#there were several days where it was like NADA

[la-cocotte-de-paris]

yeah turns out there's nothing wrong w my libido bc i am horny again

[a-b-riddle]

Part 7

Can't stop thinking about how the 141 met reader

(she's a long one. not entirely happy with it either so may edit later)

No harm done yet.

You never saw Simon actually hurt anyone. Johnny and Kyle would share stories about poor recruits who fucked around and eventually found out that Simon had no issue beating them within an inch of their life.

You knew he had a reputation and, like the rest of them, had blood on his hands. But it never bothered you. Didn't make you think twice about loving him or seeing him as the protector he had always been to you. To be frank, you could never actually picture any of them being violent.

But his voice... Fuck. His voice. It fucking rattled you. You actually feared for those fucking idiots now. Sure, they deserved to have their asses kicked, but an ass-kicking was probably going to be a welcomed after thought to whatever Simon would do.

You rinsed off, not bothering to wash your hair, but needing to wash up before getting in the bed. Hoping the scalding hot water washed away the uneasiness on your skin that had began to settle into your bones.

Even feeling fresh and laying in clean sheets, you still found yourself tossing and turning wondering exactly what did Simon do?

Did he walk away? Realizing you weren't worth the trouble, did he just tell them to knock it off?

You had stupidly expected Simon to check in. To check if you made it home alright or at least to let you know he was okay. So you waited... And you waited. You had half a mind to call him yourself before remembering it wasn't your place anymore to care. You had cared enough for the five of you.

It was well past two in the morning before you finally called it a night.

The next morning, still nothing from Mr. Riley. Not a 'did you home alright?' or 'are you okay?' text. Nada. Zilch.

Whatever.

Fuck him.

You had to open up shop, but luckily your Saturday mornings were much more relaxed. The shop wouldn't be open until 10, so you had the time to sleep in and enjoy the morning.

By noon, Mere had sent you several texts reminding you that you had promised to go out. You had tried to dissuade her. The encounter with those men last night had brought back sour memories. One involving handsome men coming to your rescue when it was most certainly needed.

You had tried to bail. Giving her any excuse you could: Last night put you on edge. You no longer wanted to go out. After last weekend, you just needed some down time.

Eventually you had realized she was not taking no for an answer after she had shown up to your apartment, already ready for a night out.

"You're not wearing that, are you?" Mere asked. Mere was in her usual Saturday femme-fatal attire. The black leather pants that accentuated her curves and red corset paired well with her freshly box dyed color black hair.

She looked more like a dominatrix than someone who worked at an attorney's office. Even if both professions included bending someone over and fucking them for all their worth. You wondered who would charge more by the hour....

You had pulled out a off white lace square neck top and a pair of high waisted medium washed baggy jeans. A perfectly cute outfit for a night out. Which was your defense when she had suggested you needed to change.

Tab had arrived later than expected (something about a system being down at work), but made up for it by bringing a pre-game snack. Yes, you had officially reached the age where you no longer starved yourself hours before going out to get more drunk quicker and cheaper. No you had to eat carbs or else you wouldn't be able to leave your room the next day as you pathetically nurse a hangover.

Tab wore a denim skirt. If you could even call it that. It paired well with the white tank top that you could make out the shape of her nipple piercing.

But they looked hot. Really hot.

"This is a perfectly acceptable outfit."

"For a day at market, not for trying to get laid."

"I don't want to get laid." You said, rummaging through your closet, yet again. "Getting laid is what got me in this mess in the first place."

A little over two years ago

"Fuck him." Tabitha wrapped her arms around your shaking body as you continued to sob. "He was a prick who didn't fucking deserve you."

"He couldn't even get you to cum." Mere felt the need to remind you as if that would somehow lessen the blow of your heartbreaking into a million shards. The shrapnel feeling like it would kill you.

"I loved him," your voice is small. "I fucking loved him." You had been dating for almost three years. You had his grandmother's ring on your fucking hand for God's sake. "I'm so stupid."

"You are not stupid." Tabitha gave you a squeeze. "He was a liar and a fucking coward." Meredith rubbed her thumb on you bare leg, offering physical reassure. Letting you know even if she wasn't the hugger Tabs was, she was still here.

"You can't keep locked up in this apartment." She was unfortunately right. You had not only barricaded yourself in your apartment for two weeks, but you hadn't returned to your bedroom. The scene of the crime. "You need to get out."

"Yeah," Tabitha rubbed your arm as if trying to coax you out your metaphorical shell. "Get some fresh air. We can go grab a treat. Maybe go out for some coffee." It didn't surprise you that Tabitha was offering a treat to entice you to leaving your sanctuary.

"I was thinking going to a bar." It also didn't surprise you that Mere offered her way of coping. Getting so drunk that you forgot what you even sad about. Or going out and finding someone to fuck the sadness out of her.

"Because getting alcohol in her system in this state is just what she needs." Tabitha was the mom of the group whereas Mere was the fun drunk aunt. They balanced one another out.

"Actually," you said, giving a pathetic sniffle. "Going out would be nice." Getting away from the apartment is what you need. And going out would be the excuse you would need to get yourself all dolled up.

What you hadn't planned for was getting so pissed that you had manage to breakaway from your friends. Searching for them in teh crowd of people. Failing and when you pulled out your phone were met with a completely black screen.

Dead. Perfect.

The same moment you swore the night couldn't get any worse, it did.

He looked the same. Same as he been four months ago when he asked you to become his wife. Same as he had been two weeks ago when you had caught him fucking another girl. The girl he told you not to worry about. The girl he insisted was just one of the guys. A girl you had told him time and time again would fuck him the moment she had the chance.

It wasn't always great to be right.

When your eyes connected, your body had went into immediate flight mode. Every neuron in your body was shooting out signals of RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN. So that's exactly what you did.

You fucking bolted.

Or felt like you bolted. But you could only scurry so fast in chunky heels while simultaneously pulling down your skirt that had decided to ride up. Aching to show your ass for all of London to see.

You had made it a quarter of the way back to your apartment. Your feet aching. Toes pinched together from the strap digging into them.

"Baby, please!" You heard him before you felt his arm clamp down on your shoulder. Hard. When did his touch become something heavy? Something that practically burned you.

You turned. Eyes brimming with unshed tears as you hissed at him to leave you the fuck alone. The begging came, but you turned around. Determined to go home. He didn't deserve the chance to explain himself and he could most certainly shove his apology up his ass.

He wouldn't shut up. Insisting it was a mistake. A one time thing her fault. How she seduced him. As if he were the victim in all of this. You weren't buying it. Not for one moment. One doesn't accidentally invite some slut over and fall balls deep into her while they are in the same bed he shares with his fiancée.

It wasn't until you were in a more dimly lit area that he had gotten the nerve to grab you. His grip was firm on your arms as he held you in place. "Listen to me!" His voice was panicked.

The feeling of anger slowly began to dim as something else began to rise.

Fear.

You were afraid.

You were in a part of town not many people were out and about in at this time of night. No bystanders to really take note of the scene, or at least not any caring enough to stand by and watch; even for entertainment.

Your friends didn't know where you were at and you were tipsy. And alone.

"Cardan," you swallowed, trying to steady your voice. "Please let me go."

"Not until you talk to me," his fingers dug into you. "We can work this out, okay? It was one mistake." He tried to argue, his voice rising, soaked in desperation. "What's one mistake compared to three years?"

"Cardan," you tried to pull away, his grip only tightening. "You're hurting me." It came out as a pathetic whimper. You were so close to crying, too afraid to scream.

"Hey!" A voice barked from behind you. It caused your whole body to stiffen."Get your fucking hands off her. Someone noticed. Someone was here. Someone was here. Someone was here.

"We are having a conversation." Cardan's eyes left you, looking at whoever stood behind you.

"The lass said to leave her be." Another voice. Someone else. Two (three if you counted yourself, but in that moment you couldn't) people against one. There was no a possibility of you getting the fuck out of this situation.

Cardan stood firm. His eyes looking past you. A silent refusal to back down.

"Either you let her go," another voice. Another accent different that the first two. "Or we fucking make you."

"One against four. Odds aren't in your favor, mate." Four. Four men stood behind you. Faceless strangers there to help you.

"This doesn't concern you." Cardan bit out.

"Aye," Scottish. The second guy was definitely Scottish. "I think it does if she's tellin' ye' to piss off and yer bein' a bawbag about it."

"So what'll it be?" The third voice, deep and threatening, yet still so... calming. As if the vibrations from his deep, rich pitch washed over you.

Cardan looked back at you, his eyes not as manic. He realized he didn't have a chance. This was a fight he had to walk away from or else he wouldn't be walking away from it at all. "I'll swing by tomorrow, okay?" He asked.

You couldn't do anything, but nod. Agree that you could talk tomorrow in the safety of the sunlight. Eventually he walked across the street before fading out into the night. Blending in with the shadows.

You turned around to meet your would-be saviors.

Four men. All slightly older than you and so handsome you felt foolish for gawking at them as if this were your first time seeing a man. Hell, maybe it was. At least specimens like this. All of them tall and broad. Towering over you.

No wonder Cardan got the fuck out of there. Tabs was right. He was a coward.

"You alright?" The one who first spoke up asked. You could place his voice. Now just needed to place the other three. He had a hearty mustache and mutton chops. A look on any one else would make you immediately get the ick. But for a moment you wondered if that mustache would tickle... "Do you need us to call anyone?"

You felt your cheeks flush with heat.

"I just want to go home." You said. "Thank you for stepping in. I don't know what would have-" You stopped. Too afraid to think about the possibilities. There was a time you would never believe that Cardan had the ability to hurt you.

There was also a time you believed he would never cheat. You weren't really sure what to believe anymore. "Anyway," you continued. "Thank you again." You turned on your heel before continuing your stride.

You had only made it several feet before you were stopped again. "Which way? One of us can walk you home." You weren't entirely sure. But with a dead cellphone and a unhinged ex probably lurking in the shadows, there was little time to weigh the pros and cons before giving them a general direction of where you lived.

Which just so happened to be the direction in which two of the four lived. The Scot and one of the two who had yet to speak. The first one, who had still yet to introduce himself instructed the two of them to drop you off and let him know you had made it home alright.

You had hoped that the rest of your night would be met with silence, but the Scot couldn't seem to help himself. "I'm Johnny." He introduced. "And the spooky, silent type is Simon." He gave a playful wink. You gave him your name, not wanting to be rude.

"Not my place to ask," he began. "But what was the deal with that fucker? Ex-boyfriend?"

"Johnny." Simon's tone held warning. You appreciated the defense, but frankly didn't care. These were strangers. Who cared what they thought.

"Ex-fiancée," you clarified. "One who decided to fuck another girl in my bed. Not even our bed. My bed."

"Jesus fucking Christ," the Scot swore. "I was right. He was a fucking bawbag." For whatever reason, that made you laugh. For the first time in two weeks you fucking laughed. And it felt like you were breathing again.

Simon was quiet, not contributing to the conversation and just letting Johnny babble. Talking your ear off in a short trek as if it were an olympic sport.

You were so distracted with his voice you hadn't realized how far you had made it until the sound of your keys clattering onto your kitchen counter brought you back.

Back to a situation you didn't know how the fuck you landed in.

Two men (who you don't know) are in your apartment. Your friends don't know where you are. You are a little bit too inebriated to plan and exit strategy. Doesn't exactly help your confidence in fighting them off since they are built like fucking brick houses.

"He won't come sniffin' around here botherin' ya, will he?" Simon asks, speaking for only the second time since he had threatened Cardan. You shake your head.

"No," you said. "I have him blocked on everything. So I think when he saw me tonight it was just kind of an opportunity, I suppose?" You offer. Cardan had showed up to your place one time with a random assortment of flowers and a useless apology you had to hear through the door as you covered your mouth. Concealing your cries. Too afraid to let him know you were there.

Too afraid that some part of you would be weak enough to take him back.

"We'll leave ye' be." Johnny said, nodding his head toward the door. "But if he comes bein' a shite to ye again, you can give us a call."

"Phones dead." You explain, holding up your phone as if you needed to prove yourself. Johnny offered the brilliant, yet simple solution of giving him your number. He sent off a text, knowing it would be there when you turned back on and promising to check in later.

They both gave subtle nods of goodbye before turning away.

And just like that, they left. The door clicking softly shut behind them. You stood, frozen for several beats before walking over and locking the door.

You plugged your phone into the charging cable, waiting until it lit back to life before shooting off a text in your group chat with Tab and Mere.

Sorry I took off. Ran into Cardan and fucking made a dash for it. Sorry if I worried you. I'm at home. I'm okay. Grab lunch tomorrow and we can talk about it? My treat?

You signed off the text with a heart emoji and turned your phone on do not disturb. Too afraid of your friends going all Mama Bear on you for running away while drunk. Even if your reasons were valid.

You had texted Johnny again. Not because Cardan dared to bother you again, but to thank him. Acknowledging that not many men would have done for you what he and his friend did. Johnny assured you it wasn't anything.

Before you knew it, the two of you were hanging out with Simon always tagging along. It took you a while to realize he did actually like you, but his stoic nature was just who he was. You had met Kyle and John, both as charming and respectful as Johnny and Simon.

John had been the first two mention wanting to take you on a date. It didn't go well with the other three. They all had the same intention and a rock, paper, scissors tournament seemed to juvenile to figure out who got the privilege in courting you. Eventually, they had decided to ask you.

Putting you on the spot to answer the question that had begun to tear them apart: which one of them will it be?

Johnny made you laugh. He was the first person you thought about calling when your day was a bit grey. He saw the positive in everything and was the one who made you feel like even the bad days weren't so terrible.

Then there was Simon. The one who you felt like was your safe place in body and mind. You would babble all day talking to him, thankful when he would let you rant. Your mind was able to go on auto-pilot in terms of safety because you knew Simon would handle it. He also gave the best hugs.

John was the one who instilled the confidence in you that you needed. Your bookstore, your writing, whatever aspirations you had, no matter how wild, John would support it. Nothing was too big. After you all started dating, he was the first person you ever let read your book. He gave you praise as well as critique, pointing out multiple plot holes and helping you craft it better. And never once taking credit for it, even when it was due.

Kyle was the most thoughtful one. He was the one who knew you liked trying knew things so he made an effort to always make date nights interesting. A new restaurant, a new activity or experience. He was the biggest giver of the group.

So when they did ask you, you answered honestly.

"I can't choose." They insisted that you didn't need to spare their feelings, but you stood firm in your decision. "No. I can't choose. I'm interested in all of you." When they pressed on why the fuck you didn't say anything earlier, you told them to avoid this kind of situation. Where you had to choose. You were fine continuing on as just friends if that meant you got to keep all of them.

Mere and Tabs were great friends, but they are the ones who helped pull you out of the slump. The ones who made you feel lovable. The ones who made you feel like a woman again.

"Helloooooo." Mere's hand waved in your face while another held something she had found in your closet. "So are you going to change or not?" Your eyes darted to the skimpy glittery black dress. The same one for your first date with them. Your stomach twisted as you took the sparkly dark fabric in your hand.

You nodded as if trying to shake the memory out of your mind. "I'll change and we can go." Better just to get it over with.

The place that Mere had dragged you to was a club that played music that you would only listen to while encapsulated in the aroma of cheap liquor and sweat. Your outfit form-fitting. The material too stiff to be comfortable, but it was cute. The hem of your dress coming to rest just below your ass cheeks. Hugging your body in a way that made you feel self conscious the moment you stepped out of your building.

Mere had run into some work colleagues. Names you couldn't and wouldn't remember. There had been a high profile divorce going on. Very messy. She had been so encapsulated by the gossip that she hadn't notice you and Tabitha had slipped off toward the bar.

Tabitha insisted on shots and you needed something to get your mind off the less than exciting night. Your expectations weren't high, but fuck. You would have been much more comfortable wearing the jeans. You felt like a piece of fucking meat. It would have been so bad if someone were gonna buy you a dr-

"This seat taken?" It was a cliche introduction attached to a slightly better than average face. Decent enough where it didn't hurt to look at him, but not attractive enough to be a seat.

"By all means," you said turning back to Tabitha who looked at the guy now sitting to your left and raising her eyebrows. Fucking hell. Not her too.

"It's pretty packed tonight." He commented, attempted to make small talk. You hated small talk. At least unless it came to Johnny who would get into discussion on politics, religion and why on the side was the best way to fuck because it gave him 'a perfect view of the front and back of ye.'

"You come here often?" You asked, not wanting to be a total bitch, but having absolutely zero desire to be entertaining him.

"When I can." He said. "I prefer the Artifact a couple of blocks down. Not many people heard of it. A bit of a hole-in-the-wall place." Oh cool. A fucking hipster who liked to act superior at knowing a place that is underground. You could feel any possibility of getting your pussy wet, dry at the thought of this man actually wanting to come onto you.

Jesus, when did you become so harsh.

I blame Simon.

"Oh," you say, no longer interested in entertaining the conversation. "Sounds lovely. My friend and I just came out for a bit of girl-" you turn to look at Tabitha who had somehow miraculously disappeared in the 45 fucking seconds that your back was turned....

Little bitch.

"Bathroom, I suppose." He laughed. It was the sincerity in his voice that irked you. God, why was he pissing you off just trying to start a conversation?

"I suppose." You gave a soft smile back, turning once the bartender had come over to grab your order. Which the stranger next to you had insisted buying. Nothing quite as arousing as obligated conversation.

"There's no need for that-"

"Percival." He introduced. "But my friends call me Percy." Your immediate thought was who the fuck names there kid Percival. The second was to offer him a fake name. Real enough to be believable, but fake enough where if he tried to search you up on any social media, you could just deny having any.

"I hate to be brash," he started. Then don't. "But I can't imagine a girl like you being single."

"Not really looking for anything romantic at the moment." You say, the first time you've been truthful this entire conversation. Percival leaned in closer, before asking in a low voice that he was doubt trying to convey as sexy, "Are you sure?"

And there it was. The final ick that nailed the coffin shut.

You offered in a soft smile before swallowing hard. "Percival,"

"My friends call me-"

"I'm going to be frank." Your voice is soft, as if explaining to a small child why we don't always get the things we want. "I just got of a very long and deep and meaningful relationship and the idea of being near another man in any intimate or emotional capacity wants me to cause very serious bodily harm to said man."

His expression fell.

"I appreciate your confidence in coming over here and making small talk, but if you're wanting to fuck me or even attempt to be friends, I must inform you that is no only not in the cards, but not in your best interest." You turned, downing the rest of your cocktail.

"Time for a trip to the bathroom myself, I suppose." You stood from your seat, having to readjust your dress.. "Have a good night."

You were washing your hands when a red-faced Mere walked into the bathroom. Tabitha on her heels with a concerned expression.

"What did you do?" Mere asked.

"What are you talking about?" You asked. You had half a mind to ask them why the fuck they pulled a disappearing act after insisting you go out.

"You told Percy you would castrate him?" You looked as if you had been slapped. The pieces falling into place to reveal a totally fucked up puzzle.

"You fucking tried to set me up." You seethed, a finger pointing accusingly.

"Well, fuck, what did you expect me to do?" She asked. "You were sulking."

"Listen to me!" You cried. "I want you to listen to me. I was with them for two years. It hasn't even been two weeks and you're going behind my fucking back and trying to set me up with fucking Percival? How the fuck do you even know him? Do you even know him?" She ignored your last question. How convenient.

"I thought it would be good to get it out of your system." She tried to defend, her pissyness now matching yours. "You always do this. I was just trying to help."

"What do you mean 'I always do this'?" Your eyes turned into slits.

"Why don't we just calm down and-" Tabitha tried to stop the escalation. Mere, very obviously, ignored that cue.

"You get so hung up on a guy, or in this case guys, it takes you fucking weeks to recover." You stare at her. Unsure if she was really comprehending the bullshit that had come out of her mouth.

"I'm certain you aren't trying to make me feel bad for grieving a relationship that I was in for over three years to a man I was engaged to. To find him fucking in my apartment, in my bed the same week I was going to get my wedding dress."

"It's not just Cardan," she went on. "Issac in our second year of school?" You gave a humorless chuckle.

"Oh yes," you said condescendingly, "the boy I had dated from 14-years old- until I was 19. The boy I gave my virginity two months before he told me he was not only not interested in me, but women in general." As if that somehow lessened the blow. "Absolutely shouldn't have bothered me a bit."

"You only went out for classes and food for two months!" She said as if you had hit a pedestrian with your car. As if you were a fool for being so distracted by a breakup you couldn't be bothered to carry on with life as normal.

"I'm sorry that I actually take the time to grieve my relationships." You said. "I forgot that it may be hard for either of you to comprehend what a relationship is like considering the only relationship either of you have is with your work or with each of us."

"Hey!" Tabitha said. "I understand your pissed, but there isn't need to attack us like this."

"Attack you?" You asked. "Attack you? This isn't me attacking you. This is me responding to an uncomfortable situation that you put me in. I told you I didn't want to even think about me. I didn't want to fuck someone else and you go and do this?"

"He seems like a decent guy." You roll your eyes.

"Probably why he's not your type, right?" Mere crossed her arms over chest. Eyebrow arched as if she were hoping the words enticed you to realize that you had a history of going after the wrong guys.

Unfortunately, it did not.

You sucked on your teeth, carefully choosing your words before World War III broke out in a nearly vacant bathroom in South London. You took a deep breath. Calming yourself as best as you could.

Before saying fuck it and letting it loose.

"Just because your idea of coping is getting drunk and fucking someone you plan on never speaking to again, quite literally discarding them like trash, doesn't mean the rest of us cope the same way." You hoped it hurt. You hope it stung the same way she had tried to sting you.

You had hoped that your word would be the final blow before both sides called a treaty.

"You mean like they did you?"

And just like that, you heart stuttered. A rapid dum dum dum in your chest as it had been tripped up by her words. The truth in them heavy. The shift in the air was almost immediate;.

"Sweetheart-" Tabitha had tried to reach out before you jerked away.

"Enjoy your night." You said, grabbing your purse where you had left it by the sink. "I'm going to go home and wallow in my self pity." You exited the bathroom, hearing your named called again before shifting it into gear and getting the fuck out of there.

Weaving through the sea of bodies like water flowing around rocks.

Who the fuck cares if you want to cry? To grieve? To be angry? To get closure? To move on? Who cares if you don't want to be the girl who gets her heart shattered and not fuck somone else? Who wants to feel the comfort of a familiar body, a touch that feels safe one last time before you go back into a world where you will only be touched by a stranger?

It didn't matter that you were the one to breakup with them, even if the relationship was broken. It's foundation cracked.

What did matter is that the people who should have supported you and in the way you were dealing with your loss in your own way, didn't. And that's the part that they seem to forget. It is a loss. It's mourning someone who hasn't died. Someone who is still living, yet still no longer there.

"Off already?" Percy cut in the way, blocking your escape. You weren't in the mood.

"Listen-" you started before he cut you off.

"Not anything romantic, I know," he raised his hands as if in defense, "but maybe like another drink or a dance?"

You closed your eyes, wanting to hold off starting a scene and tearing him a new asshole. "Like I said, not. interested." How much clearer could you spell it out?

"Come on." He said, his hand coming to rest on your hip. The grip on it weak. You were by no means the type of woman that could take on a man like the ones you still held in a chamber of your heart. But you could most certainly handle your own against Percival. "I'm asking for a dance. After what Meredith told me, I figured you'd be down for at a little more than that."

"I don't follow." Your blood ran cold. Your heart praying that any assumptions that were running through your mind were wrong, they were wrong.

"She mentioned you having a group of like guys you fucked, but stopped fucking." He shrugged, offering a coy smile that you ached to wipe off with the back of your hand. "I don't judge. It's kind of hot honest. Did they run train or-" You felt it then. His hand had traveled from your hip to the curve of your ass.

And you froze. You froze like a coward. Too afraid to speak or scream. Too ashamed to push him away, cause a scene.

But you didn't need to do any of that.

In an instant, Percy's hand was off of you. It took you a moment to realize that a figure dressed in black stood beside you. Your own personal grim reaper.

"Put him go!" You pleaded, breaking out of your trance. You took hold of his arm putting all of your body weight on his arm, trying to break his hold. He didn't falter.

You could handle you own against Percy.

But Simon could fucking kill him without breaking a sweat.

You looked at Simon's face. His eyes were darkened. The soft brown you had once loved staring into were now almost black. You could even make out the dark circles, even in the unsettling flickering of strobe lights in the club.

"You touch her again and I'll slit your fucking throat. Understood?" Pure venom fell from Simon's lips, but you knew he wasn't lying. Simon was the type of man who didn't say something he didn't mean.

You knew that all too well.

Percy choked out an ineligible, gurgled response as Simon's hand held firm on his throat. "He understands, goddammit, no let him down!" You ordered hitting at him as if it would stop him. "Simon, please!"

It was only when you said his name, did Simon loosen his grip. Letting Percy drop to a heap on the floor before he started a having a coughing fit, trying to suck in as much air as he could.

Simon looked down at you and the exit before scooping you up and hauling you over his shoulder like a sack of flower.

You wanted to die. You wanted to crawl in a hole and die and never show your face again.

"Get in the car." He at least had the decency to open the door for you. Simon wasn't a flashy man, by any means, but he was still a man. A men did love their cars.

He stood, waiting for you but you didn't move. You glared up at him. He had carried you out of there in the most humiliating way possible. You had to fight against the hemline of your dress or else everyone would have gotten an eyeful.

Hand still on the door, he leaned down, getting closer and closer to your height. "You get your ass in this car right now," his breath warm against your ear. "Or I'll have you over my fuckin' knee." His tone was sharp. It wasn't seduction in form of a threat. It wasn't even a threat.

It was a promise.

"We're over." You reminded.

"Do you think that'll fuckin' stop me from spankin' some sense into your bratty ass?"

"It doesn't give you the right to fucking do that to people, Simon!" You huffed. "You could have killed in."

"Could have," he agreed. "But didn't. You're welcome." he nodded toward the car. "Now, in you go or I'll do it here. You already know I don't mind an audience."

The heated seats were a bit to warm for your liking against your bare ass. The tension in the air was uncomfortable. Your hands ached to touch the radio. Anything to stop the silence between the two of you.

"I got home fine the other night by the way." You said, looking out the window, hoping to make him feel like shit for not checking in like he should have.

"I know you did."

"What do you mean you know I did?" You asked, turning to look at him. He shrugged as if it wasn't anything out of the ordinary, not stopping.

"Just did." Was his only answer.

"Are you fucking stalking me, Riley?" That made him laugh. You would have felt better if there was at least a sense of humor in it, but, instead, only disbelief.

"Oh, Riley now, is it?" He asked.

"You're not my body guard, Simon." You snapped.

"Not trying to be," he said. "I was never trying to be." You caught it. A very small slip, but it was something... something you couldn't place.

"Then why?" You ask, your tone softening. "For someone who makes it very apparent to be done with me, you sure do show up at convenient times. Hard not to think your keeping tabs on me."

He didn't say anything. No explanation or excuse. Not evena smart ass comeback or remark.

His hands reached forward and turned on the radio, turning the volume just loud enough that if you were to try and continue the conversation, your words would be drowned out.

He pulled up in front of your building, yet you made no move to get out. You turned off the radio, soaking in the silence once more. You wanted to know why? Why was he appearing out of nowhere like a fucking ghost? Why was he helping you?

He sighed before putting the car in park and stepping out. Coming around to your side he opened the door. "Get inside. Go to bed." There he was again. Fucking bossing you around as if he still had a say.

You wanted to cuss him out. To spew hateful words just as he did you.

But you didn't.

You were tired.

So fucking tired. And the idea of going to bed did sound pretty good in that moment. You made it to the door of your building before he spoke again. "And if you need to out at this time at night call a goddamn cab."

"Why?" You asked, turning around. "Getting tired of having to follow me around on foot, Si?"

There was a pregnant pause. Neither of you speaking. His body shifted forward, as if contemplating getting closer to you. As if the pull you once had was still there.

With his eyes trained on you, you felt a chill run down your spine. Twice you had seen that look on Simon's face before. The look that he had given the figures concealed in the shadows last night. The same look he had given Percy.

Only this time, it was directed at you.

One that personified the saying, 'if looks could kill.'

"Because," he growled out, "the next time I find someone else touching you that way, I'll fucking kill them."

[lifeasaya]

🚨 Vetted Fundraiser 🚨

My name is Aya Maher, a 24-year-old Palestinian from Gaza. I want to share the heartbreaking story of my family 💔.

My mother, Ashwaq is 43 years old, my brother Hamza is 22 years old, my brother Bader is 16, my little sister Nada is 12, and myself. We've endured 376 days of continuous bombardment during this devastating war. Since its onset, we've faced a relentless cascade of losses. Our lives have been emptied, and the dreams we once pursued now seem like unattainable fantasies.

We were displaced from our home, and tragically, we lost our new home as well—a place we had worked tirelessly to create, hoping it would become a sanctuary where we could build beautiful memories.

My professional life has been utterly decimated. For three years, I thrived as a user interface designer on freelance platforms.

However, since the onset of this war, my ability to work has been obliterated. The occupation's relentless bombing campaigns have ravaged internet infrastructure, rendering it barely functional. Now, even basic online tasks are nearly impossible. Consequently, I'm left without any financial means to sustain myself.

We were displaced from our home due to occupation forces and found refuge with relatives. Our lives were repeatedly threatened by bombings, escaping death twice during tank attacks and enduring a four-day siege under intense bombardment.

Despite immense hardships, my family and I stayed in Gaza, facing constant bombings and severe shortages. After five months of siege, we're on the brink of famine, lacking basic necessities. We've decided to leave for safety, but high coordination costs are a barrier.

🚨 Vetted Fundraiser 🚨

Our previous account was trusted and verified by many people 90-ghost, palestinecharitycommissionsassoc , nabulsi , el shab - hussain.

Also we are on the list with el-shab hussain, number (216) here is the link.

I'm reaching out for your help to achieve our goal swiftly, driven by the fear of losing a family member.

We sincerely hope you can empathize with our situation and amplify our message to make a difference.

Your contribution could save a family and bring hope in these difficult times. Thank you for your kindness and support 🙏💜

[iznsfw]

You are now obliged to write an Eunbi smut

Waterbombed

IZ*ONE's Kwon Eunbi x Male Reader Smut

5,835 words

Categories | daddy kink, anal, jealousy, squirting, breast worship, fingering, titfucking, spanking, slight exhibitionism

Sorry not sorry for the Eunbi spam—I promise I'll write the other members and other idols after this. Waterbomb Festival Eunbi is just too hot.

Enjoy.

Tokki 🐰: oppaaaaaaaaa

This can't be good. Eunbi's bombing your phone again with ridiculous messages designed to attract your attention. It won't work today, though. You've got a lot to do, and besides that, she's equally busy. She's out there performing in some festival Woollim booked, and it's safe to say that it should have brought about only peace in your office cubicle. No videos, no flirty texts, no nada—that's how it should have been.

But one thing you've learned when dating Kwon Eunbi is to expect the unexpected. Too bad you didn't keep that in mind when you finally gave in and picked up your phone. Work can wait for a few minutes, right?

You: What is it ?

Tokki 🐰: have you seen my performance yet :]

You don't think so. The day's been too packed to make space for a quick watch.

You: Not yet love im busy

Tokki 🐰: you should oppa

becauseeeee

i really enjoyed performing at the waterbomb festival!!!!!

Waterbomb Festival?

Isn't that—

It slowly hits you, as if the information were a hesitant slap on the shoulder. Thoughts come blending into each other in your head and forming a quaky conclusion. Could it be…?

Open another tab on your work desktop. You quickly flock to YouTube. Never mind if your boss sees the history through the internet router. You have to know if your suspicions are true. 

Your experienced fingers spell out a search query into the curved search bar. In flash-paced impulse, you type out: "권은비 워터밤."

Then there it is: several fan-recorded videos of your girlfriend, your ever-so-precious and playful Eunbi, dressed in nothing but a flimsy bikini top and a see-through cardigan. Her hair is soaked from the sprays and shots of water coming at her, but she's smiling—she looks like she's having the time of her life.

The played previews of the videos are endless loops of her chest rippling and bouncing with her wide movements, even cutting to a clip where she's running her hands up her exposed body, grinding her hips down as if you were there on the stage with her, invisible yet still present. 

No wonder she didn't want you to attend. You insisted, but she asked that you did what you had to do. 

You're a good man. At least, you try to be. Eunbi's her own person and you're completely fine with whatever she does, even suggesting the kinds of tattoos she could pick out when she went to get some. They're what gave you the inked places to kiss her.

But she knows what she was doing with this. It's impossible not to discern that.

Look around before closing the tab with shivering breaths, then pick up your phone.

You: ????? 

You told me it was a festival

Not the WATERBOMB festival

Tokki 🐰: oh come on whats the difference 

and you don't own me >:(

i can do whatever i want

:PPPPP

She's got a point, but her intent with this is so obvious, with the lewd expressions she fires the audience and all, that—

You: Oh

So that's how it's going to be, huh.

It's maddening how your picture of her jumping around giggling as she types another message to you is probably accurate. 

Tokki 🐰: yes :3

can you come pick me up?? 

The audacity of this girl sometimes.

But forget it; as any good boyfriend would, you're picking her up. You'll do more than pick her up. 

-

Getting there in the guise of her manager isn't easy. You've had to negotiate with him, explaining that you'll pick her up on your own and save him the trouble. I'm a friend of hers, you said. I just want to congratulate her performance, you added. He gave you suspicious looks, but once he saw her name in your contacts, he ultimately agreed.

Driving through the crowd isn't easy either, but you manage to do it. You have your emotions to thank for that. Lust and jealousy, as you've learned, are like demons—they possess you, control you to the point that they invade other aspects of your life. Asmodeus sure likes tinkering with you, and you're just sitting there in the driver's seat letting him? If that's the case, you'd have to attend the Waterbomb Festival itself to wash yourself of hell's flame.

Heat begins to fill the room when you see her though. You'd adlib a pun into the script here, say a joke about how it's only hot because Eunbi is. But you're too turned on by the sight of her tits on display, poorly contained by the thin bikini and held together by one single button of the transparent cardigan.

Her smile pushes you on. She knows what you're here for, but she loves playing dumb as much as she loves provoking you. It's all going according to her plan.

Every bit of her insane curves sway in an aesthetic, almost rehearsed way at you as she approaches. Her hair is still wet, and maybe there's another thing wet, too; her thighs squirm together too much to be merely out of the soaked sprays aimed at her at the festival.

Eunbi's eyes sparkle. Makeup can't fabricate that glimmer.

"Daddy," she says, with conviction. With meaning. 

The hair on the back of your nape rises.

Eunbi's pushing you to the empty seat in the room, soon filling your lap with her soft presence. "You really came? I thought you were mad at Eunbi."

There she is again with the third-person thing. The daddy thing, too. She knows it's your weakness, hearing a pretty girl like her who pretends not to know of her effect on people get on her knees and call you what she shouldn't. You won't lie; it's insanely hot, but when she's grinding her round ass down on your growing bulge with that tiny bite of her lower lip, you, as usual, aren't passive. You aren't moved by her coaxing. You refuse to be. 

"Watch it," you warn anyway, a hand on one of her womanly hips. You massage it, a cautionary message written in your movements. Now you brush a thumb over her midriff and draw small gasps out of her.

"I'm n-not doing anything." 

Innocent as her voice is, her outfit isn't—the patterned bikini top barely holds on to her plentiful breasts, and the cardigan is useless anyway with how clear its seams are. 

"Daddy," Eunbi says again, the pout on her lipsticked mouth growing, "don't tease."

"I'm not doing anything," you say, happy to use her line against her. 

You love and live to see the weak expressions on her face when you trail your hands gently to the scope of her tits. If they barely fit the bikini, what more in your hands? They're too soft in your fingers as you gingerly toy with them. Her nipples poke the fabric of the top and brush your palms.

Eunbi's gasps frequent. "Please."

"What is this, baby?" you ask. "You go to a festival made for perverts and you make a scene anyway. And now you want me to take this off—"

Unbutton the single thing holding the cardigan together, slipping it off her shoulders. The bare, revealed body in front of you is something the Waterbomb Festival goers were able to see first—just under the gauze of the poor outerwear. It triggers an unhinged emotion in you, something that goes like: mine mine mine.

"—call you a good girl—"

Eunbi's lips are pursed as you touch her everywhere. She's completely soaked after her viral feat at the festival, but there's another thing down below that's wetter. Showing herself off to everybody, men and women alike, has her wet to the core. 

Your touch teases yet lingers, stays yet strays. She grinds down on your lap needily. 

"—and expect me to fuck you? Really?"

Eunbi's truly all bark but no bite. Her feistiness through texts doesn't translate in real life, wherein she completely melts when you just let your fingertips glide along her waiting skin. Just look at her heaving bosom, her large eyes—she's passiveness itself.

"But you, you liked seeing me up there, daddy," she stammers. Eunbi swallows the moment your hand rests on her cheek. "H-hah, you liked watching me."

She cries out too loud for subtleness at the sudden spank thrown at her tits. 

"Is this what you wanted those men at the festival to do to you?" Slap her bouncing tits again, squeezing before throwing another blow. "Slap your big fucking tits, dick you down right there on the stage for everyone to see?"

"Mmm, ah, you ask too many questions, daddy. Oh– oh my god—"

"If you want to be such a bad girl," you say, a harsh squeeze from your right hand on her boob, "you'll get fucked like one."

Pull down the narrow cup of the bikini to suck on her nipples. Replace the redness on the flesh from your slaps to redness from your mouth. You've placed your hand on skirted ass to keep her on your lap, because she's not going anywhere—she'll stay here, here where you can teach her a lesson. 

You dare to bite just a little. Beneath your palm, Eunbi's form curves and she screams.

"D-daddy!" 

"Sensitive, aren't we?" you ask with a smirk. Your tongue flattens as it licks greedily at her nipples, then retreating to her collarbone and neck. Still, her bountiful breasts are your main focus. 

"Please fuck me. I need it, I can't—"

"Take the skirt off. Bend over." 

Eunbi whines, but you fire her with a look of warning. Hence, she slips out of the white jean skirt. She doesn't even wear safety shorts underneath. Instead, it's a single thong that matches the plaid pattern of the top. She might as well be at a beach with how little clothing there is on her curvaceous body.

Your blood boils, but it settles when she does bend over obediently on your lap, and you enjoy the sight of her breasts dangling before settling on the soft plush sofa. 

"Someone might see, daddy," she protests, though she's already folded in half on the furniture. "The others, they're gonna look."

"You had no problem with that earlier," you say. Circle your palm over the exposed fat cheeks and clench your hand around one, just like you did with her tits. "I should fuck you at the door, make everyone see the sexy little thing they saw at the festival is mine."

"Noooo, please, daddy! The company'll be mad and my fans…oh, my fans—"

"Quiet, baby girl. Let me use you."

Eunbi nods, albeit her shadowed eyes are closed. She whimpers through pursed lips as the first spank capsizes. Her ass moves beautifully, as if it were a dancer just like her. It's hypnotizing, and for that you hit her more. 

"Oh, oh yes, daddy, oh my god," she cries out, her voice thin. "I love it when you spank me. M-makes me want to cum all over you."

"Not a chance after the shit you pulled out there."

Her thong is sticky with her juices. Feel it with your middle finger briefly. Dare to slip through the side to touch her waiting pussy. Eunbi sobs a little, reversing her ass into you, but is met with a spank instead. She winces.

Eunbi's ass is, to be brief, amazing. But even with that you'll go on to say how much you love the supple flesh bouncing in front of you, becoming red from the assault of your hand, clenching to bear the teasing. It's already a surprise that you haven't fucked her senseless already when she's lying stomach first on your lap in a tiny two-piece set, but you love to keep her on edge hankering for you to use her. 

"So you won't let me cum?" asks Eunbi, as if she were really disappointed that she'd be denied something she doesn't deserve. "That's not fair."

"Do you think it's fair to me?" 

"Oh, oh, daddy—" Her legs quake once your fingers nevertheless stuff her hole, and start moving at a pace too early to be set and too much to handle.

Your digits push past her slick walls and fill her over and over. "Presenting what's mine for everyone to see, Kwon Eunbi. And I thought you were a good girl."

"Ohhh, but I am!" Eunbi protests, on the verge of pleasure-induced tears. 

You just know where to touch her, where to fuck her pretty cunt at to reduce her to cum and tears. Nothing's a better combination. Stuff a third finger, and Eunbi gets too tight that you can barely fit. You have to spread your fingers a little to make space, yet she still squeezes down.

Through her struggles and cries she doesn't fail to move her crotch into your fingers. It's like she's in a battle of choices: to have you stop or have you go on forever. 

"I just wanted to have fun, daddy! I wanted you to punish me, to fuck me—"

"Well, you got what you wanted then, little brat. Cum for me. Cum for daddy."

Her screams fire off into the atmosphere like warnings. They have every right to send cautionary messages; Eunbi's a force to be reckoned with when she cums. At times, she'd yell and sob without shame as she came around your cock, tear the sheets with how hard she grasps at their fabric. But now, at a public waiting room backstage at the festival, she's got nowhere and no one to help her bear her orgasm.

So, while you violently fuck her hole with Eunbi-stained digits, her moans start off as what they were, evolving into louder and louder forms, until she's cumming, cumming all over your fingers as if her pussy were one of the water guns itself. Her squirt doesn't miss her thong, but it also doesn't leave your lap empty in its wake.

Oh, and she's screaming. She's crying out your name in pitched tones, carving your thrusts into stronger forces. "Shit, daddy, please!" Eunbi cries, struggling in your lap and squeezing down hard. "Please, daddy, I don't want to ruin your clothes!"

That's sweet of her, but frankly: "I don't care. Cum all over them. Just keep on squirting for me, baby. That's it."

Pull out to rub at her core, forcing more of her girl cum to eject into the air. Eunbi's legs flail and weaken. Her hips gyrate into your finger and flinch after you start spanking her impossibly wet cunt.

"Thank you, daddy," she says between gaspy gibberish and whimpers. She can barely see anything but stars. "My daddy, thank you, daddy, keep spanking my little pussy like that, mmm, I love you, daddy."

Alternate between spanking and rubbing so that the sofa is absolutely stained with her, so that anyone who comes in the room after the session will know that the Kwon Eunbi was railed here. So they know that they can gawk at her amazing body all they want, but she's yours. Yours, and no one else's. 

Eunbi bears it for a few seconds, hips lifting and descending. But it soon becomes too much to bear, for she implores, in a tired voice, "Daddy… stop. Too much."

No problem at all. Stop, like she asked. You never take things too far unless she wants you to, even when she's been bad, which reminds you: "But you're still a bad girl. You need to make it up to daddy."

"I know what to do!" she says, in a sudden cheerful voice she uses when she does her radio gigs. "I can make daddy feel better with this!"

Her legs are still weak, but she gets off your lap with the help of her own eagerness. Eunbi's always so ready to make you feel good.

She kneels, tugging your belt and pants off. Her animated expression at the sight of your cock is adorable, and as you ruffle her hair, you realize you just have to tell her:

"You're so fucking pretty, Eunbi."

Eunbi beams. Her cheeks flush. "Thank you, daddy."

"I bet you'll look even prettier fucking your huge tits on my cock."

"You don't have to tell me what to do," giggles Eunbi. "I'm a big girl."

She completely tears off the bikini top. Her wondrous boobs free themselves from the fabric, baring their flesh to you. It's an attempt to make you drool at the mouth and go bogey-eyed, and you can't say that it isn't successful. 

She squeezes her assets and plays with her nipples. Her fingertips brush and circle over the pink patch of skin as she moans seductively. The knot in your stomach tightens.

"Eunbi," you reprimand her. 

"What?" she says, eyes full of faux innocence. "I was so horny after you fingered me, daddy. You're just so hot when you're mad."

"I'll be madder if you don't let me fuck you."

She laughs. "Don't worry, daddy. Just sit there and relax for me, okay?" Eunbi raises a thumb questioningly.

Lower lip pinned under her teeth, she guides her large breasts to your cock. It takes no effort at all for her to slip your cock between. It's not unexpected either that the big soft skin imprisoning you feels amazing. With their size and impossibly smooth texture, you've no other choice but to moan loudly.

The backside of your length enjoys the space between her tits, while the rounded sides revel in their booby trap. Not a pun, you swear, especially not when your girlfriend's titfucking you, but there's no coherent thought when she's doing it. When she's smiling naughtily. When she's compressing her tits around your length like it's determined to keep you there forever. When—

"You're doing so fucking good, baby."

"Of course," she says happily. "Daddy made me cum even though I was a bad girl, so I'll always be good for him."

"Consider this your punishment, then."

"How is it a punishment if I love it?" 

"Don't start."

Another warning she doesn't heed. "I already have."

Her chest heaves and rests while being instructed by her hands. Eunbi lets a run of spit stream down her cleavage and on your cock as lubricant. Wipe the drool from her chin and offer it to her mouth. Her eyes sparkle with delicateness as she sucks on your thumb. The soft lips wrapping around your finger causes you to wonder what they'd feel like around your girth.

(Next time.)

"Gently," you have to remind her. The constriction of her bust around your cock is a little too much. So is her eager looks. "There's no rush here."

"But I want you to cum," Eunbi says. "I want you to cum all over my big tits you love so much. You love me, don't you? Then cum for me, daddy, show me you love your little baby girl, please?"

Fuck, it's tempting. You'd love to pepper her beautiful face and bust with your cum. She'd look so pretty in it while still keeping the look of pureness in her irises. But you have to hold out. 

She toys with your cock, slapping it against her boob then running its tip on her nipple. Your heart skips a beat, and she smirks. Seems like you're not doing a good job of keeping your daddy persona, but she's good enough to continue rubbing your firm veins on her skin. 

Eunbi's chest is a real-life fleshlight. Soon, your hips start to move of their own accord, and you're meeting her thrusts now, only with a little more force. There's the friction to chase after, too, and you're right at its heel. You're winning the race, already; you can almost taste it—

"Ohhh, daddy!" she says delightfully. Your cum rains on her chest and neck like a storm. The thunder can be your groans that instead of fearing, she relishes. 

"F-fuck," you say. "Fucking brat, take it all—"

Eunbi listens this time. She removes her bosom from enveloping your cock and attaches her mouth to it instead. You've trained her well; she shoves her face all the way down your length, effectively taking it all in her tight throat. Her neck flexes and relaxes. It stimulates you and has your legs bouncing.

Her eyes remain sealed onto you. The brightness in them that they hold so often tells you more than words could: she loves being your good girl as much as she loves being a brat. She loves riling you up but also loves being good and letting you have your way with her. It's what Eunbi keeps living for, and some may say it's an addiction, but if it is, she'd never want to recover. Not if it means having your warm cum down her throat and your hand tangled in her hair.

You call her a good girl more times than you can count. Ruffle her hair all the while and wipe the tears forming in her eyes when she whimpers. It takes a while getting her to get all of your cum—her throat extracts more from you, and it ends up with her gagging just a little. Finally, she makes the move to breathe.

Pants ride her shoulders, but Eunbi smiles. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" she says. "Let's go home now—"

"Oh, no, Eunbi, we're not done."

"H-huh?"

You pull her up and into your lap, her butt parked only a little away from your cock. Eunbi wears a shocked look on her face, and it only adds up to the hotness of her wearing nothing but a Burberry thong while on your thighs.

"I still have to teach you a lesson," you tell her between firm squeezes on her butt. "You think I forgot?"

"Why?" she whines. Her hands fidget with your shirt. "I've been a good girl, haven't I? You got to cum!"

"And I'm not stopping." Guide her hips to dance along the head of your length. Brush against her engorged clit. Tease her slit. "Fucking ride my dick."

You push her down. Eunbi cries out, her nerves still on a high after her previous orgasm. To be fair, you're a little sensitive, too, but you look forward anyway to cumming in her tight little pussy. It could happen any time when she's just so fuckable, her busty self bouncing and squirming on your girth, and her face never failing to not hide the pleasure she's going through. You can feel her twitch and spasm, but of course, you keep slamming her down on your lap like she's a little rag doll.

"Daddy!" she screams. "Please, oh fuck, you're so big!"

She's a little greedy herself. If you wanted to fuck her till she came and begged you to stop, she wanted it more. She's wild and unhinged as she rides you, impaling herself with your rod though you cumming in her would do more bad than good, but when it pokes every good spot and stretches her tiny cunt better than any toy or a couple of fingers, she might as well do it with no regrets.

Kiss her collarbone and keep a hand on her ass to guide her. Squeeze; her moans break. Then Eunbi's looking at you with crazed eyes, deluded and dizzy with pleasure, as you slap her fat ass and let her wet core press its walls around your penis like a trap. This whole thing's a trap if you really looked at it, from the appearance at the Waterbomb Festival to the outfit she's wearing, but if that were so, you'd want no parole. If being jailed in her hole means getting this delicious tightness and hearing her whiny loud moans every second, you'd appeal for a life sentence.

She might as well be liquid—the roll of her hips is too fluid to be that of a human. But you've seen her fancams from the festival and guess that it was a manifestation, a prophecy for this to happen. Your cock can't be anything other than solid, however. Eunbi's too sexy a girl for your erection to be nonexistent.

"That's it, Eunbi." Lean back a little into the wet sofa to let her do her thing. "Ride that fucking cock. Fill that tight pussy."

"I will, daddy," she responds, nodding as if in a spell-cast trance. Maybe it's true; the heat brewing in the small of her stomach is too good to be true. "Yes, please, I love your big cock, it feels so good inside me."

You don't even have to guide her anymore. She's fully fucking herself on you, her stamina never failing her. Her full thighs strain and her pussy clenches down with a slippery yet firm grip. Groan, then slap her ass. She hums happily. Your relentless upward thrusts and slaps just burn her lust into a complete fire. 

It's a surprise your legs don't collapse on the way to carrying her and fucking her against the wall. It gives you more opportunity to stuff her with you harder. Eunbi's legs spread more, her breathing ragged, and you're kissing her again. You press your lips on hers, then on her neck for which she closes her eyes appreciatively, then her collarbone. There isn't one part of her you don't love. You'd paint her with your cum three times a day like a daily meal if you could.

For now, you binge on lust with her. You eat more of her than you should. But who's making the rules? Whoever they are, let it be known you're breaking them—skin slapping against skin grows louder, almost syncing with Eunbi's repeated moans and your pumps. Her hips and yours create a rhythm together to make it work, to make your cock fit inside her, but she ends up weak and tired anyway.

"Please, daddy. S-suck my tits. I need your mouth on me so bad. Can you give your baby girl what she wants, daddy?" Her pout prods you on. "You can, right?"

"Of course." 

Latch your mouth on one of the bouncing circles of flesh. Nibble, suck, spit, suckle—that's your beginning loop of actions for her. But it becomes frenzied after a while because of how good her folds swallow you, how soft her breasts are. Even as your actions become less and less sequenced, she moans. You never want to hear anything else.

"Yes, yes, yes. Thank you. I, I'm gonna cum soon. Keep fucking me like that and I promise, I promise I'll squirt around your s-stupidly big cock. I will, I will, just fuck me, oh my god. Oh, daddy!"

Eunbi stays true to her word, especially with your thumb toying her clit. She lets out another rush of cum on your crotch. It's wet, it's plenty, it's oh-so-hot when she's screaming helplessly like that, struggling to keep up with your speed. 

Pull out so more of her can spray all over you. If people don't hear your little session in this waiting room, they'll see evidence of it—it ends up on the floor, the sofa, the wall, and your soaked clothes on the ground. Maybe Eunbi's back could have imprinted a mark on the wall too after how hard you fucked her. It's too easy for adoring fans and nonchalant staff alike to find out what happened to their beloved Kwon Eunbi after the festival, and you have a feeling that it's part of what makes Eunbi squirt so much now.

Go south. Keep your fingers on her hips to help her stand. Then, flick your tongue on her clit to help her go through the long stretch of her orgasm.

"Ahh, fuck!" 

Her core tightens again. Her hips flinch and recoil, but you keep firing your sharp little licks long after her climax subsides. 

"Oh, daddy," Eunbi sighs, dizzy, "that felt so good."

"Can you go for more?" 

You're met with a curious look. It's as if she's wondering herself: could she?

"I want to fuck your ass, too, Eunbi." Squeeze her cheek, and her other cheek turns red. "Won't you let daddy fuck this perfect little thing?"

Eunbi shivers. She walks over to the windowsill, steps shaky, and places her hands on it. Then, she looks back at you, coaxing you on. And you have to admit that it's quite the sight, because there she is, in only skimpy underwear and her breasts bare of any covering. 

It's the fact that she's so willing to go and expose herself through the uncurtained window and show everyone who gets to fuck her that makes you approach her. 

"Naughty girl."

Eunbi nods. What's there to deny? Her eyes shut after you spank her.

"If I get to fuck your ass every time you go to Waterbomb," you say, trailing her wetness to her asshole as lubricant and lathering it with her arousal, "I'd let you go here daily."

Eunbi giggles. "So you're not mad anymore, daddy?" she asks hopefully.

Your cock rubs her hole. It teases her, keeps her on the tips of her toes. "Maybe."

Push, just a little. Already she's clenching down unintentionally. Eunbi hisses and shuts her eyes.

"Ffffuck, hnn." Her hands drum a tortured song on the windowsill while her voice strains a melody of darling cries and whines. "Haaah, daddy, you're so big. I don't think I can take it."

"Of course you can," you say, choosing to be gentle this time, "'cause you're my good girl, right?"

"Y-yes. I'll take it for you, daddy—I can do it."

"That's my Eunbi."

Kiss her neck and slowly plunge more inches in her. She keeps letting out soft cries. Her face, showcasing her eyes shut tightly and mouth slightly hung open, reflects into the window. You wonder which group's performing now, and if the audience is too enamored by their song to see the previous sex doll that is Eunbi being fucked at the window. That somehow encourages you alongside her soft moans of pleasure. 

It's Eunbi's first time with anal, and she never imagined she'd experience it here, at a place where anybody can see her pleasure and struggle. She clamps a palm on her mouth.

"Daddy… ahhh, it's so big, daddy!" she cries softly.

"I know. Just spread that tight ass for me, will you? So you can take daddy better?" Smile when she follows your orders. "Thank you, baby. You ready?"

"Mmm." Eunbi hums hesitantly. "Yes."

She said she was, so there's no hesitance on your end in relentlessly fucking her asshole. It gapes a little with the help of her fingers, but Eunbi still wails. Stroke after stroke of your length fills her up and she isn't sure how to deal with the pleasure and pain it brings about. 

Her textured, pink walls might be a close competitor in terms of tightness with her pussy. With how closed its walls are, it nearly refuses to take you in. Try rubbing at her clit. As a result, it clenches around you tighter. Eunbi sobs and huffs as she tries with every inch of her spent body to take you in. 

"Nnnn, daddy! S-so big, so good, it's so good!"

Open her up. Spread the tight cheeks by spanking them. The backside before you grinds and gyrates in response. There's more wetness now on Eunbi's legs, trickling down her skin. Maybe it's sweat? Squirt? Cum? No time to think about it when you're focused on how damn tight she is.

Somehow, your pats and rubs on her core make her tighter. She's restricting you fully, forcing you to draw your hips all the way back to slam inside her. With each, she gasps, as if surprised, and begs again. Begs for more, although her ass is too tight to take more than a few pleasured inches in. Begs you to use her, spank her, which you do although you don't really understand the rest of her sentences. It's all garbled and messy, just like your swift thrusts.

"Pound me, fuck me! Fuck me for everyone to see, daddy, make me cum!"

Now that part's clear as day. You love Eunbi too much to not do what she says.

A few seconds in she relaxes a little. Hence, the rest of your dick goes inside her. You let out a soft groan at how good it feels: finally filling her to the hilt. You kiss her sweaty back, rub her clit, tell her how much of a good girl she is. It takes effect; she grows tighter and more relaxed at the same time. How it's possible, you've no idea, for you live in the present wherein you're fucking Kwon Eunbi's tight ass to no end.

Rub her little midriff. "You want me to fill this pretty stomach with my load, baby? You want me to cream your ass?" 

"Yes, daddy!" 

Now, trail your finger down to her clit where you rub furiously. "Want me to make you squirt again?" 

"Fuck! Daddy!" Eunbi's legs twitch and she throws her head back. "Yes, yes, make me cum, make me cum!"

That you do. Keep the tempo of your thrusts and rubs unsynced so as to let her experience the pleasure from both ends. Let your other hand squeeze and pinch her nipples, and let the fact that only you get to toy with them, not the audience. Not one single man out there gets to fuck her like this, even in his dreams. 

You smile for a bit until you blow your load inside her tight hole. Eunbi's feet finally lose balance and she falls back into you. Continue to thrust in her to ease your climax while she rains her squirt all over the pane and wall. Let a few fingers inside her pussy, too, and the silver rain grows stronger. Plentier. Better.

"So fffucking big, thank you, daddy," she mumbles coherently enough. She kisses your jaw tiredly. "Feels so good in my ass, thank you, I love you, thank you… the best…"

Her repeated whispers are adorable. You wince as you pull out. You're fully and completely drained, and you don't have to guess to know that she is, too.

"Calm down now."

"Okay, I will…" 

"I love you, too, by the way." Your lips meet hers. She kisses back happily.  "Don't forget that."

"Won't… forget…" Eunbi nods. Her heart pounds as fast as yours. "We'll go home now? For real this time?"

"For real this time," you chuckle. Stroke her hair. 

You let her robe fall around her spent body and drive her home. The janitors have a tough time cleaning up the room, luckily only assuming someone spilled water. The scent of sex still hangs around, though.

She's your passenger princess on the way home, but the next three times she'll attend the Waterbomb Festival, she's your toy. You're flying with her to Japan to fuck her anytime, just as a firm reminder that as much as she's loved to show off in the events, you love fucking her more.

[gabessquishytum]

While I love Dream with past shitty partners before he meets Hob having his his mind blown after he finally experiences what a good partner actually is' how about...

Hob was Dreams first love, and with that his first everything, They did the whole romance cliché of childhood friends to a serious relationship (complete with years of pinning) on the very edge of marriage with a white picket fence and kids Dream and Hob have the worse fight ever seen by either of their families, in the end Dream storms out into the rain and Hob is left yelling at him from the doorway (1889 anyone?).

Within a week Dream has moved away to pursue his dream as a artist and writer and Hob is on a plane to start backpacking around the world. The break up is swift and painful,

Eventually Dream starts dating again, but he quickly realizes that he keeps attracting the wrong sort of people; Killala started chatting up some guy obsessed with stars the second she thought his back was turned. Alianora had only dated him because Desire dared her too, Nada has tried to use him to further her families business and Titania had already been fucking married! The less said about Cori the better.

In a different world perhaps Dream would have clung on, would have delt with it and accepted what he could get. Just believed it was all he was worthy of but the thing is Dream has already experienced what it was like to have a partner who sees you as an equal. Who loves you is faithful to you and who cares about your opinion. Dream knows what he is worth and it was so much more than what any of those peoples were going to give him.

Over a decade and a half later and Dream returns to his hometown for the first time with his little Orpheus on his hip. The boys mother Calliope was a fellow lover of the arts and a famous singer. Their combined passion had lead to several award winning pieces and the creation of their beloved son but three months into a relationship had proven they were just not compatible for anything long term but Dream is forever thankful for her steady friendship.

With Calliope away on tour and no deadlines for him to complete Dream takes his son to the local park where the boy becomes fast friends with another little boy named Robin Gadling the only son of recently widowed Robert (Hob) Gadling.

It seems the Hob with his wonderfully soft dad-bod and slightly greying temple can still ignite the same burning desire within Dream as he did when Dream was a young bright-eyed twenty year-old.

This is so glorious, can you imagine their eyes meeting across the park, past the swing sets and slides and toddlers tugging on their hands!!! Dream is sure he must be, well, dreaming. He's thought of Hob often in the past few weeks that he's been back around town, occasionally fantasising about what he might look like now. He just wasn't expecting to see his former lover and have the word "daddy" immediately pop into his head.

And it seems that Hob is, literally, a daddy. He kneels to speak to Robin, who is gesturing wildly towards Orpheus, and Dream can't even move because seeing Hob being attentive to his son is just. So beautiful. But of course Orpheus drags him over to Robin and Hob gets to his feet and he's somehow even more glorious. Dream didn't think it was possible but he immediately falls right back in love with a man he hasn't seen for over 15 years.

Hob is shy and a little withdrawn, seeming like he doesn't want to offend Dream or freak him out by being too friendly. Truthfully Hob doesn't want his heart broken again. And maybe he'd be better at resisting temptation, but Robin wants more time with Orpheus and Hob can never resist his son's puppy eyes. So he finds himself sitting beside Dream on a bench, just like how they used to feed the birds together in the old days. Their thighs brush together and Hob feels like they were never even apart. He could just hold Dream’s hand right now and they could go back to how it used to be. He hopes that Dream feels it too. That he won't be disappointed that Hob is tired, and grieving, and not in the shape he used to be.

Maybe Dream will work up the courage to tell him that his weariness and the fact that he's a little frayed around the edges make him all the more perfect. Because they match each other, perfectly.

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 100)

The sound of light snoring filled a 16 year old boys bedroom in the wee hours of the dusk, the wall adorned with guitars on racks and band posters displaying men with long hair.

His blankets were a charcoal black, his sheets a dark grey. On his desk lie a machine glowing with RGB, and whirring softly, and his seating options consisted of haphazardly arranged bean bags.

“Nico! ¡Levántate! ¡tienes tu turno en la puerta del búnker hoy!” Came harshly from the living room, and a drone with a mop of black hair grumbled, emerging from his nest of blankets like a member of the undead.

His purple eyeslights flickered on just to display his groggniess- another night of fitful sleep.

“Comin abuela!” He calls out in return, throwing the blankets off him and stumbling into the bathroom where he brushed his shoulder length hair and cleaned his teeth.

The only thing he was wearing was a pair of long black shorts, his hair was a mess, and when he looked at himself in the mirror he looked like a disheveled shelter dog.

“Ugh. Fuck me…”

He sighed as he gathered up clothes to wear for his shift guarding the front door, with everything going on, older students had the choice to volunteer to help with different projects instead.

And he'd take security work over a stuffy classroom any day.

He slid on a grey shirt and green cargo pants before fumbling around in his room to find his brown aviator jacket and matching goggles, then dug in his nightstand to find his service weapon- a 9mm pistol that would do nothing against a threat that wasn't a normal drone.

He strapped it to his hip and opened the the door to the living room where his grandmother was watching some kind of reality TV show, her legs covered in a knitted blanket.

“Morning.” He gave a half grin to her slightly yellowed frame, she smiled back, faded blue eyelights blinking at him.

“Buenos días mijo. Casi pensé que no te levantarías” She hummed, gently taking his hand as she couldn't quite see him even in his close proximity.

“Nada…No me iría de casa indefenso.” He replied before sighing. “Por favor, usa tus gafas abuela…”

She shook her head. “Ah, no. Not like it will help anyway.” She switched to english, probably not even realizing she'd switched at all. “You be safe mijo! Don't be a idiota!”

He chuckled softly. “Done enough of being stupid… no worries. See you when I get back.”

He shut the door behind him, stopping to stand just in front of his door to watch several people walk by- a deadpan expression seeping onto his face.

“Let's get this over with…”

He traipsed down the hall towards the bunker doors. Getting shoulder checked and ignored all the way through; he was decently tall for a worker drone but that didn't stop people from not caring enough to get out of his way.

It was kind of his luck. Hell, his whole families luck it seemed. He should've been named Murphy, because every single bad thing that could happen; did.

His father was murdered outside the bunker before he was even born, and his mother only took care of him for the first four years of his life before dumping him on her mother and bailing. He couldn't parse her out from the crowd even if she was still around.

So it was just him and his dear Abuela, and it had been for most of his life, which he was fine with, she was a lovely woman and had raised him well. Though recently her opticals had begun to fail…

Just another thing added to the list of mundane and shitty aspects of his life.

Why couldn't his problems be more fantastical? At least then he could be miserable and interesting instead of miserable and bored to fucking death.

He reached the front of the bunker on complete autopilot, settling into his post next to the open door, snow blistering around him while he leaned against the frozen concrete.

Despite how lonely it often got, he did find himself enjoying his time out here, one earbud in his audials while he watched the ship that would take them all away from here be built.

He'd actually begun as a welder, and was pretty good at it too- the only problem being that he was too impatient for it, he would get into a flow and then burn his hands because he wasn't paying attention… so now he was put on simple security.

“Hey Nico. Just get here?” His watch partner and now, one of his close friends patting his shoulder as she walked by with a piping hot cup of gasoline for the both of them.

“Hey Nellie. Yeah. Kinda slept in…” He replied, looking into the girls green eyelights and near silvery hair that hung down to the small of her back.

“Boss should be back from the expedition today with the ‘cords. All that's left after that is preparing that monstrosity to go.” She pointed to the ship, now being coated in heat shielding for its cone and underbelly.

“You think it'll actually work? Some of that shits starting to get in our pipes now… it's gonna get impossible to clean out soon.”

She shrugged. “If it don't, I say let's have one last hurrah until we all munched, if the planets gonna take everything; let's not let it take our joy too…”

“And if it does?”

She laughed. “Then I'll kiss you. How about that?”

He blushed at that, looking away sheepishly. “I think I'd take you up on that.”

The air cracked with supersonic pressure, alerting both drones to a yellow blur quickly decending, preparing to land just in front of them and they both braced themselves, snow getting flung everywhere as something big and mechanical landed with a loud thud.

After everything settled, what remined standing before them was tall, formidable, and had a long tail with a stinger. A Murder Drone…

Carrying a small, feisty, visibly pregnant little worker, and both were smiling like idiots.

“You said slow.”

“That was slow!”

“You broke the sound barrier!”

Nico felt his features soften. Good, they were both back in one piece, and it seems to have went well If their playful bickering was anything to go by.

…

There was one more reason he really enjoyed being out here, instead of in there.

“Mama! Papa!” Little Tera was calling from the arms of a drone with blonde hair and white eyelights, reaching out for her parents as N nearly ran to take her out of the workers arms.

“Oh hello my baby bat! Papi missed you yes he did!” He spun her, making a cascade of happy giggles escape her mouth.

Nico smiled at the sight, feeling his heart swell before a pang of deep regret hit him like a truck.

It wasn't supposed to be this way…

That night with Chloe was supposed to be fun, no consequence. She'd told him she was sixteen too, acted like she'd never done anything before right up until she absolutely blew his mind- but he'd chalked it up to it being his first time.

Then; nothing. Radio silence, he didn't see her in his classes, didn't see her in the halls or any other party he'd went to, like she'd been a ghost.

Until she called him five months later to meet her at the nursery.

He thought the meeting place was odd, but at the time didn't seem to care, he was just excited to see her again, being unable to wipe the night from his memory- he'd wanted something more substantial ever since then…

What he arrived to, was her holding a pillbaby put with one hand- which she dropped unceremoniously into his arms before just walking away without explaining a damn thing.

He didn't need one though. He knew the moment the babies eyes opened and he was staring into his own eyelights, when her mouth opened to let out a coo and she weakly rolled into into him.

He held her close, alone aside from Mrs.Rayn in the nursery, having to sit down because his legs threatened to give out underneath him.

At first… he just admired her, she was mostly inert now having been just transferred and having no life experience other then him in that moment. But she was perfect in every way.

Then he… thought about how he'd have to adjust, he'd have to drop out of school, move out- but… he couldn't move out, abuela couldn't see very well and without him she could hurt herself…

Okay… so he couldn't move out, that's fine. So it was drop out, keep taking care of his grandmother and the new addition, and get a job so he could make sure she'd have toys and extra bottles and all the oil she needed.

But… taking care of the both of them would be a full time job- he couldn't be out all day and expect his grandmother to help raise yet another baby.

He started to tremble when he made that revelation. How absolutely upset his grandmother was going to be at him, how utterly impossible it would be to try and juggle everything this little baby would need at the age of 16.

And he started to cry uncontrollably, hugging her tightly as his heart unraveled out onto the floor. Ugly sobs wracking through his body as he went through the last… and most viable option. To leave her here.

Yet he still stayed for another hour, basking in his daughter's presence, memorizing it to the best of his ability.

He'd given her a name- even knowing it would never be used.

Mariposa, his little butterfly.

And then, he went to the front desk, legs feeling like lead and with shaky breaths, and handed her to Mrs. Rayn.

She didn't even have time to ask a question before he was gone, not being able to bear being there a second longer without breaking down into more tears.

When he got back to his room, he collapsed in a heap of despair. Sitting on the edge of his bed just staring into space, the weight of what he'd done threatening to crush him.

After an hour of that. He called Chloe, she didn't pick up but he didn't exactly need her to. He just needed to fucking scream.

So he did.

He left a thirty minute long expletive filled rant as a message before throwing his phone in fit of absolute rage and then collapsing as tears ran down the inside of his visor again.

He had a daughter, a pillbaby with his code and the circumstances of her birth and his life had made it impossible for him to be there for her in the way he wanted to be.

He knew, realistically, this was the best choice for both of them, he wouldn't have to uproot everything and she would have a much higher quality of life, she'd have two parents who'd love her instead of just him, a 16 year old boy who barely knew how to take care of himself.

The next morning, and the day after that, and the day after that he went to visit her secretly, giving her tickles or admiring her before he went to school. His heart hurting knowing that there was going to be a day soon where she'd be gone.

And then the day came.

And she was gone.

He was brought back to the moment by a happy laugh, Tera pulling her mother's beanie off as she climbed her head, looking overjoyed to be with her parents.

She was so happy now, so energetic, so wild and carefree, he felt cemented in his choice, that it was the right one. But sometimes he was simply just jealous of her new parents; despite the fact they seemed wonderful.

They got to experience her first words, first steps, spoil her rotten. All the things he wanted to do, to be the dad he never got to have.

“Papi! Happy! Mama!” She yelped out a short string of words, beaming happily as the family went inside. Resting on her mother's shoulder- they made eye contact.

She recognized him, not as her dad but… as someone she knew. Her mouth tilted upwards and she gave him a happy wave, kicking her feet.

He gave a small, bittersweet wave in return.

Next ->

[wisteriasonthemoon]

Do coincidences strike twice?

oh yeah, my replay. I got distracted. I was in chapter 1, at the very first free-time event

this is a great place to start blogging about it again, because there's a question that has been bugging me that Kokichi's event provides great context for. I would like to call upon fandom collective memory for a potential answer

in his FTE #1, Kokichi claims that he and Kaede have met before, but she's forgotten about him. after Kaede questions him, Kokichi goes into a very short story about how they supposedly met. he then rescinds his claim

Kokichi: Hmmm, let's see. We met... Kokichi: ...under hostile circumstances similar to this. Kaede: Huh? Kokichi: You sheltered me while I was on the run from my enemies. With your piano skills, you managed to raise enough money to fund my escape... Kokichi: But then I betrayed you! I sold you out to my enemies and you were swiftly killed! Kaede, thinking: Th-there is no freaking way any of that is true... Kaede: That was all a lie! Kokichi: Yup, it sure was! We met each other here! I can't believe you fell for that, Kaede. You're such a sucker. Kaede: Geez... Kaede, thinking: Yeah... This is the sort of prank a kid who wants attention would pull.

because of the fantastical and vague nature of the story, Kaede dismisses him without much consideration and some agitation, yada yada, Kaede leaves annoyed

okay, context established. smash cut. tumblr town time now

so, there's this DRV3 theory post from 2021 by tumblr user fit-artichoke8738 that I really enjoy. well, I say theory post, but it doesn't attempt to conclude anything about the game or its' mysteries. it's more of a musing connection between two background details: the DICE logo and Kaede's research lab door

for those of you who didn't click the link, basically, Kaede's research lab door resembles the right half of the DICE logo. or, to put it another way, the right half of the DICE logo resembles piano keys. like this

that's it, that's the whole post. fit-artichoke8738 doesn't further speculate. which is all well and good, because although nobody points it out in the notes, the right half of the DICE logo is ... the "C" and "E" in DICE ...

... probably??? right???

which means this could easily be explained as an artistic coincidence. both are black and white, composed of common shapes, and the devs might have not been thinking about the similarities given all the time and work that goes into creating a game like DRV3

I have an addition though. is this *also* an artistic coincidence

IS IT?

did the devs consciously choose to write Kokichi doing a "you were my ally once! psych!" rug pull on Kaede in his first free-time event with her and then they just. spilled paint and accidentally made this design on her shirt

a design, btw, that I am aware is officially listed in the DRV3 in-game gallery as her former high school emblem. it also names the school as "Shining Star International High School". it's a reference to Seisa International, a real conglomerate of International schools in Japan, or so claims the danganronpa.fandom wiki

the only post I can find of similar speculation is from 2020 on VK, a Russian social media, where someone else pulls "LIE" out of the same emblem, just without utilizing the whole thing

and jokes aside, I can guess why this isn't talked about much. this is a background detail, the framework that most people (seem to) view the truth of DRV3 is through Tsumugi's game-show explanation, and there are several ways to dismiss the "DICE" reading, including but not limited to the fact that Kaede has a very inconsistently rendered emblem between her cut-scenes and sprites

but I expected to be able to *find* that dismissal. like "oh. that's weird. ANYWAY." kind of posts. nada. am I missing them??? where are they??? I'd love to understand where the logic for current DRV3 interpretations comes from. the lack of theory discussion these days makes that difficult for me. might as well start with what happened with this idea, since I'm interested in it

if anybody knows, that would be cool. and with that out of my system. I'll resume replay next weekend. maaaaaybe tomorrow

[queenendless]

🚚Moving Day (Adult!SatoSugu x Fem!Reader)🚚

A/N: Also from my Curses Love book on Wattpad.

This AU has them both as teachers at Tokyo JJ High, you can see curses, you're in a poly relationship with them. IMPLIED MATURE THEMES INSIDE!

For those that have been reading and liking these shorts, thank you. S2 is back and of course I'm a wreck. Also want a Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna x Reader gang bang ... idk how I'll write one cause drawing in general is hard for me now.

Credit for the characters/series goes to Gege sensei. I own nada but this show and these two own my soul!😫😭🤧

* Please DON'T plagarize, translate, repost my FANFIC content. Reblog, like, and follow instead.

I hope you enjoy.

"Uh, Y/n-chan, you're certain you can carry all that by yourself?"

"My stuff. My concern." You struggled speaking as your form struggled carrying those big boxes of yours in your arms; breathing deeply through your nostrils to keep your focus despite your knees quivering. '"I - I'm fine!"

Suguru sighed before snapping his fingers. Several of his curses floated amok and carried the boxes right out of your arms in time before you plopped forward from the imbalance, only to be pulled back flushing your back against Geto's front.

"Honey, it's alright. Satoru and I can handle the rest of your things. You shouldn't be pushing yourself too hard on your first day here."

"I'm sorry. I'm just ... nervous. This is all new to me ... but I still want to help at least."

Geto hummed, nodding in understanding, before kissing you tenderly on the forehead, smiling calmly. "Well thank you love. Having you living with us now is worth all the effort."

"In that case," You grabbed your duffle bag of stuff with ease, smiling, "I'll handle this."

The giddy stride of the oldest of you three popped up in the living room archway, swaying his smart phone about. "Suguru~! I was thinking we get sushi to celebrate Y/n-chan living with us now~! Sushi Go is my top choice, of course! Ginza, here we come – !"

"Satoru. Unpacking first. Eat later. Remember?" Suguru groaned.

"Eh?! Who paid to have all Y/n-chan's stuff packed and moved here in the first place? At least my family's fortune has some good use in this case." Gojo wearily spoke when his family gets brought up. "Anyhow ..."

Gojo swept Geto in one arm and you in the other with such ease, cheeriness immediately taking over. "House tour time~!!!"

Geto's exasperated smile and your giggling self at Gojo's boundless energy gave him that extra burst in his step while giving you the tour of every place in your shared private home nestled in suburbia. "Living room for binge time and cuddles, kitchen where Suguru will stuff our faces with such goodness, pool for soaking antics, hot tub for burning passion –!"

"We get the picture, Satoru." Geto's flushed, smug grinning face at the commentary had Gojo snickering, nodding his head in your direction.

"I don't know~ Looks to me our darling Y/n-chan is tongue tied right now~" Gojo chuckled lightly as you couldn't look at either of them at the moment.

"Not because of you, for sure." Geto snorted.

"Eh?" Gojo's smug ass bubble popped, following Geto's finger pointing at what enraptured you.

Setting you down gently, letting you slip away from his grasp, both men watched with affectionate smiles as you slid the glass doors aside to step out onto the back patio to see up close.

Your eyes sparkled in childlike wonder at seeing how expansive the back yards were. Lots of stone pathways, different oriented trees planted all over, rolling hills teeming with so many blooming flowers, and a view of the mountains in the distance. "Wow," You breathed out in mesmerized wonderment.

Feeling an arm drape around you, you were pulled flush against Geto's side. "This is yours, love."

"That's right. It's all ours." You both yelped as you were both now carried easily under Gojo's arms; wrapped around your waists and hanging like luggage. "And finally, last but far from least~!"

"Satoru, we can walk just fine, you know." Geto sighed, a bit peeved but mostly willing to let his lover's antics continue.

"The best room of them all!" Him kicking down the door helped enunciate the importance of this room; startling you and furthering Geto's bewildered amusement, "Our love making suite~!"

You squealed as he threw you to the bed, springing up at the bouncy, comfy master bed that was quite big for you three. Geto was thrown in after you on one side before Gojo belly flopped to the other, entrapping you in a cocoon of their arms, their enriching laughter mingling with their beautifully smiling faces turned you on hard.

The burning realization had you hiding your flustered self against the sheets.

"See~?! Now that's hot and bothered if I ever saw it~!" Gojo swooned, turning to his side as he one armed you from behind. "Makes me wanna kiss you so bad~" He heatedly breathed in your ear, cheekily grinning at your soft pleased mewl.

Geto smirked knowingly, laying on his side with his cheek resting in the palm of his propped-up arm, singing, "Toru~ About that lesson plan for the first years you said you'd draft up by today?"

"Ehhh~? Hands on practice will do just fine, Sugu~ Kinda like what we'll all be doing later tonight ... or right now~ Whaddaya say, sweetie~?" Gojo hummed as he gently grabbed your shoulder and flipped you to lay on your back.

"Can I at least unpack my duffle bag first?" You had to ask, hugging said bag to your chest. Geto's snorting face and Gojo's jaw slacked expression made you feel so dumbfounded as you tried sitting up while unzipping your bag. "And what about sushi~?" You whined, pouting.

Geto chuckled lightly, kissing you to cheer you up, winking at you both. "Unpack, eat, then smash. Kay, Toru~?"

Gojo dramatically sighed, collapsing in mock defeat. "Fine~! You're lucky I love you both." His own pout was wiped away instantly as you leaned down to peck his lips, too quick and short to his liking, as he sat up and watched you putting away the rest of your things around the room with Geto cuddling up beside him as he watched right along.

They wouldn't admit it out loud but they were both feeling grateful to share their personal private lives not just with each other, but also with you; their third partner.

A regular turned recent curse seer that just happened to work as a Window at Jujutsu Tech; their turf, only to bump into them both in passing ... the rest is history.

Seeing you finally put your bag away in your shared giant closet had them both glomp you from behind, smirking widely as they both had their own cheek to chew on and smooch to their liking and your giggling self.

Yep, living with the strongest sorcerer pair will be quite the treat.

[matan4il]

Update post:

Yesterday, there were no less than two terrorist attacks against Israeli civilians, one in the morning, and one in the evening.

The first one happened in Beersheba, where the terrorist stabbed and injured two people before being neutralized. The terrorist was an Israeli Bedouin, who had been convicted of drug-related criminal charges. The prosecution asked for his arrest, but the court decided to be lenient, to aid in his rehabilitation, and instead only sentenced him to community service. He was due to start in two weeks, but instead he chose yesterday to attack innocent civilians.

The second terrorist attack took place in Gan Yavne. A Palestinian man, who used to have a work permit in Israel, but lost it and remained here illegally, carried out the attack. The Palestinian terrorist started stabbing people at a gym and then at a nearby cafe, wounding 3 people, all of them originally determined to be in serious condition, one is a teenager, the other two are reported to have life threatening head injuries. The terrorist was 19 years old, and he was neutralized at the scene. In investigating how he managed to stay inside Israel illegally after his work permit had expired, the police has arrested two people so far.

Israel has wrapped up its second operation at the Shifa hospital in Gaza City, with another soldier pronounced dead (20 years old Nada Cohen), bringing the IDF fatalities in the Gaza ground operation so far to 256, and the total number of killed Israeli soldiers in this war, including during the Hamas massacre (reminder that some of those soldiers were girls serving in non-combative posts, without combat training or even a weapon, and were slain while still in their pajamas) to 600.

The end of one operation in a Gaza hospital doesn't mean that's the end of Hamas abusing medical and humanitarian facilities, so there are and will be more such operations. That's why I'm also sharing this reminder that nothing is sacred or even just... off limits to Hamas, who moved kidnapped civilians in ambulances, as one of the released hostages testified.

I mentioned in a post expressing my frustration over foreigners' ignorance over the conflict, which doesn't stop them from acting like they know better than the people actually living it, the Hamas-Fatah "civil war," which erupted in 2007, when Hamas killed Fatah members in Gaza and took over the place. The two Palestinian factions have tried reconciliation several times over the years, but it never lasted long. Israel's war in Gaza against Hamas and its fellow terrorists organizations is not over yet, but already there's signs of that tension. This def bodes well for Palestinians if Hamas survives this war.

A city council meeting in California, which dealt with Holocaust remembrance, ended up being the scene of some despicable displays of antisemitism in its anti-Zionist form. IDK what was most distressing to hear about, the way they screamed "Lies! Lies!"' at a Holocaust survivor, or that they took and threw to the ground the phone of a Jewish man who came to speak about his grandma who had survived the Holocaust, or that they mocked a mother speaking of her child being harassed at school to the point he doesn't wanna be a Jew, because he doesn't want to be hated... Maybe that they made my friend, who attended the meeting, cry on what was supposed to be a very special day. I saw coverage on Israeli TV of the city council, which both told me how bad it was, if of all things, that's what they're talking about, and at the same time, it was nothing like hearing about it from her. So I'm glad that she shared some of her own impressions about this ugly demonstration of hatred (I'm also scheduling her post for a reblog). I just hope Jews all over the world know that we here in Israel care about you, we love you, we are standing by your side, and we wish we could do more for you. <3

Speaking of antisemitism, and an inability to recognize it as such, to call it out and condemn it, here's some recent examples from around the world. In Spain, the locals went out for an Easter drink, a tradition called, "to kill the Jews," but insisted it's not racist. Attacking and even killing Jews actually was customary in Europe on Christian holidays such as Christmas and Easter. In fact, this specific nickname is derived from those old attacks.

In London, a policeman insisted that swastikas being displayed at an anti-Israel protest were not antisemitic, and should be taken "in context," despite admitting that a symbol that's abusive or would cause public distress would fall under his jurisdiction to act against.

In the Netherlands, a single mom of a Jewish girl was attacked for the daughter's choices (she decided to move to Israel and has served in the Israeli army) both at home and at her workplace, a hospital. The mother was so rattled after the attack at her home, that she wouldn't stay there. A Jewish hotel owner offered her a free stay at his hotel. In an interview with an Israeli reporter, the mom said she's considering moving to Israel, too (source in Hebrew).

This is 32 years old Celine ben David Nagar.

She worked as an office manager at a law firm, was married to Iddo, and they had a 6 months old baby together. On Oct 7, Celine was on her way with a friend to the Nova music festival, but they never made it there. The Hamas rocket attack started first. For 10 days, she was considered missing, and it took a while, but eventually they found her body. While her fate was still unknown, two days after the massacre, Iddo went on TV and talked about the fact that Celine was still breastfeeding. Following the interview, hundreds of Israel women volunteered to donate their mother's milk to the little baby girl. At Celine's funeral, Iddo asked said goodbye to his wife, and asked hr to watch over him and little Eli from above.

May her memory be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[pagesfromthevoid]

Your Kiss, My Cheek | d.d.

Din Djarin x princess!reader, Grogu x princess!reader (familial)

A Cowboy Like Me drabble

In which Grogu reflects on life with his princess and his dad

Word Count: ~770

Warnings: Nada

Author’s Note: You guys have one (1) more drabble after this before I drop part 13 and it’s glory. Enjoy the little semblance of information that you need for context

Series Masterlist | Talk to Me!

On Sorgan, Grogu sat with Wynta and the other children while listening to Omera tell a story. He wasn’t sure how much longer his father would be gone, or where his princess was. Grogu knew she was taken by someone, and he understood that his dad needed to save her. Grogu missed her; dad was fantastic –caring, protective –and he loved him. But she was soft, and understanding. She let him explore and read to him. She held him when he was scared, kissed his cheeks and promised to keep him safe. Grogu liked his princess almost as much as he liked his dad. 

But his princess was gone, and so was his dad. 

He just didn’t know where they went. But he knew that his dad wouldn’t leave him alone unless there was no choice.

His dad was good like that. 

While Wynta whispered something to him –something about his princess and how she caught a frog the other day – Grogu was thinking about what was going to happen to her and his dad. He had left in such a hurry, and it had been nearly a week since his dad had left. Grogu wondered what was happening. 

“Mando’s back!”

Omera looked up from the children, then to Grogu. He had turned to the voice of one of the cart drivers, who was running into the camp. Omera stood and scooped him up, and Grogu felt relief as he saw their ship break through the trees. It was a fast rescue mission, then. Dad and his princess would be home and while the three of them would have to leave again most likely, he was fine with that –because at least they were together. 

Several of the villagers, along with him and Omera, hurried through the forest to greet him. But when they arrived, and the hatch to the ship lowered, only his dad came into view. Grogu wondered if she was just in the bunk, resting or recovering, but when his dad took him from Omera’s arms –Grogu knew there was something wrong.

“Where is she, Mando?” Omera asked, looking up at him with a deep frown. 

“She’s safe,” he confirmed, looking down at Grogu now. He knew when his dad was upset, or angry. Could feel it, even when he couldn’t see his face. “I have to take the child back with me.”

Grogu looked up at his dad now, blinking up at him in confusion.

“Is that safe?”

“There’s no other choice,” his dad countered, looking back at Omera now. “Calisto intends to use her to bring Grogu to Gideon. I can’t let that happen.” Grogu reached up to touch his dad’s chest plate, trying to get his attention. But he just shook his head. “It’s going to be fine, kid. Don’t worry. We’ll keep you safe and get her back.”

Grogu tilted his head to the side, frowning some as his dad loaded him up onto the ship.

Within the hour, the two were trekking back through space, off to save their princess. His dad had been quiet the entire time and Grogu tried to get his attention, using the Force to pull his toy from the shifter. But his father snatched it back, looking down at him and shaking his head. Grogu grumbled in response, trying again.

“Kid,” dad said, turning to face him. “I need you to stop. I need you to just…just please stop.”

Grogu stared at his dad, eyes wide with surprise. He had heard his dad sound so many ways; feel so many things. Angry, terrifying, defeated, vengeful. But this…this was new. This was fear. And he had never heard his father sound so scared before.

Whoever had his princess was scaring him. And Grogu didn’t like that.

After a moment of staring at each other, his dad pulled him into his lap and sighed. Grogu looked up at him, then back out the window.

“I’m going to marry her when we save her,” his dad explained, leaning back in his seat. Grogu hummed, tilting his head once more. “I asked her to. We’re gonna be a clan of three soon.”

Grogu had interacted with lots of people that his father cared about. Peli and her droids that ran around and let him chase them. Cara and Karga, both who made sure that dad was taking care of him whenever they visited. Of course, there was Omera and her people who Grogu loved. But his dad didn’t love any of them like he loved his princess.

Their princess.

His mom.

———

Taglist (CLOSED): @r4iner @sgt-morgan @mingeniee @darling1darling @teriolan-blog @venusfalling @double—take @sunshine96 @demisexuallover @mxtokko @ellesvoid @waddafaknik @c-ms1ut @kokoirne @sl-ut @munsons-queen @intense-sneezing @geekrenaissance @dancealongthelightofday @tizylish @ruleroftides @aheadfullofsteverogers

[i4gonzalez]

Can u do a pedri angst where him and reader finally make it official after months of him chasing after her but the next day the paparazzi find him getting cozy with a girl qnd its all over the media and she feels embarrassed but he doesnt think its a big deal so they get into a fight but make up in the end

RUMORS: pedri gonzalez x fem!reader.

summary: after making his relationship with pedri public, several rumors about him and another girl begin to emerge.

notes: is a difficult plot, but I did my best to develop it well. I SWEAR THIS WILL HAVE A HAPPY ENDING.

english isn’t my native language, so i used translator for it.

pedri had been chasing you for months, hoping to win your heart. he made every effort, from small gestures to great demonstrations of affection, to show you how much he cared. you were delighted with your persistence, and you got closer with each passing day.

finally, pedri had the courage to ask you to make your relationship official and you accepted the request. so, you kissed and promised that nothing would ruin your relationship.

[★]

the next day, while you were enjoying lunch at your favorite restaurant, a notification arrives on your phone.

the notification in question was from her best friend, who shared a photo taken by a paparazzi of pedri laughing with another girl.

the image spread like a fire on social networks and the media. you sank into embarrassment. you felt betrayed and humiliated, wondering if the months that pedri spent trying to conquer you had no meaning at all.

furious, you called pedri ready to confront him. and when he finally got home, you couldn’t hold back some tears.

— what was that?! how could you do this to me? with us?! — more tears flowed and his voice suddenly starts to shaky.

— why are you so nervous? — he says, a little indifferent — she’s just a childhood friend who returned to spain!

— you could have warned me! and you two seemed very close to each other! you’re a liar, pedri!

— y/n, i swear it was no big deal! — now, pedri didn’t seem indifferent, he seemed nervous — it was an innocent conversation!

the discussion increased, with you unable to get rid of your feelings of embarrassment and pedri struggling to understand why she was so upset. the air was filled with tension as they exchanged heated words, each feeling misunderstood and hurt.

eventually, after a long time arguing, you found yourself sitting on a park bench that was in front of your house. both quiet trying to ignore each other’s presence and focused on their own feelings.

pedri was the first to realize how upset you were and how your actions accidentally hurt you.

— i’m sorry, y/n. i didn’t realize how much it upset you. i’m so sorry about that now! i swear nothing much happened.

you, in turn, recognized that you had underestimated the bond that the two of you had built and how much pedri cared.

so, with watery eyes, you hugged each other, without saying anything until you became calmer.

— te quiero más que a nada, cariño - pedri says, breaking the silence. (i love you more than anything, honey).

— yo también te quiero más que a nada, mi amor - you answer, kissing your boyfriend. (i also love you more than anything, love).

in the end, you and pedri were sure that your love was stronger than any rumor or fight. you loved each other and that was enough to put up with all this.

━━━ ━━━ ━━━ ━━━ ━━━ ━━━ ━━━

★ the requests are open! you can also send requests to social media fics.

[rookfeatherrambles]

I guess this is what I do now. Another fic snippet upon you (Jonelias this time)

It's called The Red string of fate (can go fuck itself)

Tldr: this is a fic where an organization and an algorithm basically determines who you are partnered to based on genetics and traits. Jon is ace and identifies as a man, and has been fighting the system, requesting an exception to the pairing program, though it's the law for every afab person to have at least one child, he wants zero. Zip. Nada. And on the day he goes in for the 5th time to ask for an exception, he learns he's been matched and is no longer eligible. His new 'destiny' is someone named Elias Bouchard. (Elias isn't evil and this isn't an abusive dynamic in this fic, pointing that out in advance) ANYWAY HAVE JON AND HIS FRIENDS COMMISERATING WITH HIM OVER COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF ALCOHOL.

"This is such bullshit!" Melanie King slammed her hand down onto the bar table suddenly, and Jon jumped. She immediately pulled it back. "I'm sorry, Jon, but it is!"

"I agree with Mel," Jon's other friend, Tim Stoker said severely. He swirled his drink in his glass before frowning and looking at Jon. "You've been in there four times already, and it's only now they've decided to pair you off? Something's fishy." Beside him, a pretty woman with a mess of curly dark hair was staring intently at her phone. After a moment, she huffed.

"I can't find anything on 'Elias Bouchard' on Yowler or Unlinked. The man is a ghost."

Sasha James, Jon's third friend and partner of Tim's, sighed and set her phone down on the table before picking up her glass. "That's not a good sign."

Jon groaned.

Tim tapped at his glass thoughtfully. "Maybe he's just not big on social media?"

Jon groaned louder, dropping his head into his arms. "Or he's a serial killer." Melanie offered, unhelpfully.

"Or that," Tim conceded. "You okay, Jon? You're melting off the table."

Jon lifted his head a little, eyes dull. "It doesn't matter what he's like," he said hopelessly. "I don't want this. I never have."

Melanie’s expression softened, and she reached over and patted Jon's back. "We know, man. We know. We're here for you."

Sasha slid over an unopened bottle of stout. "Here. Or you can get something stronger, it's on me and Tim."

Melanie sat up, picked up her drink and cocked her head. "I never got how you two just happened to match together. Tim, you're gorgeous but you’re a different, opposing alignment then Sasha. How’d this happen? Spill.”

Sasha and Tim exchanged mischievous looks. “We rigged the system,” Tim said abruptly.

“You what? How?” Melanie leaned forwards, eyeing the pair of them with disbelief and incredulity. “There’s no way. Tell me everything.”

Sasha grinned widely. “Well, me and Tim were friends for ages… and we decided a long time ago that we didn’t want to be split up if the system matched us to other partners. So…” She paused for dramatic effect. “I hacked the system!”

Tim devolved into snorting laughter, but Melanie swore. “Get the fuck out. There’s no way! It's not possible.”

“Yeah,” Tim said eventually, coming up from his giggles. “We paid someone on the inside to fudge the paperwork. God, Mel, you’re hilarious. Never change.”

Despite Jon’s atrocious start to the day, his evening was relatively pleasant, spent around friends who cared for him and wanted to see him happy.

“They’re going to send me the whole package,” he moaned, after his n’th drink. “It's going to have his photo, and all of his information. Do they realize how incredibly unnatural this all is? My apparent life partner, matched to me by an algorithm?”

“And genetics,” Tim added, swirling the beer in his glass. “Don’t forget that the whole reason for it all is to produce healthy offspring. In an age of birth decline,” He changed his voice, mimicking one of the LION’s top representatives. Everyone at the table had seen the video and the air was filled with groans, but Tim kept going. “We must all do our part to ensure our unique traits survive the test of time. That’s why -”

“Don’t say it,” Jon moaned, head thunking down on the table. He was well and truly inebriated, but it wasn’t enough. “Don’t even say it.” He pushed his half full beer away from him, no longer interested in it.

“It is fucked up,” Melanie agree, helping herself to Jon’s abandoned drink. “If you think about it, really think about it, this is a dystopia. Like, seriously. We’re living in a society.”

Sasha made a face, then leaned her head over onto Tim’s shoulder. “Mel, I love you, but I’m way too drunk to talk politics right now.”

The rest of the evening was a smeary, drunken blur for Jon. He woke up the next day in his bed with a terrible hangover and a feeling of dread settled deep in his gut.

[devastator1775]

Anne's Journey: Two eternal Souls And The Lost Daughter - Chapter 3: The truth behind the veil of deception

Summary: Anne finds out some truths hidden behind her origin and some new things about herself

Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Anne groaned in frustration, letting herself sink into her chair, raising her head to the ceiling as she buried it in her hands. For the better part of an hour, she had being going through the documents she had collected through the smallest detail. She had read, re-read and re-re-read everything several times and it all came the same conclusion: there was nothing more in there that her parents hadn’t already told her. The police report – although an edited version for public availability – was quite clear on the situation.

A couple of days after Hazel and Naomi had found Anne, a couple of Drones – one male, one female - had lost their lives in a car accident. Their bodies were wrecked beyond recognition in the crash, their ID chips fried and the data in their cores was 98% corrupted due to excessive , with only the Origin Signatures that were connected to her Parental Source Coding being readable. Which was all they needed at the time to confirm their parenthood to the foundling Drone several Districts away.

With no way to verify identities nor anyone reporting Missing Persons in the days that followed, they were declared as John and Jane Doe and their remains properly processed, in Drone tradition. Their Cores were extracted from their bodies, molten down together into an urn and enshrined in the local columbarium. The bodies themselves were brought to a Recycle Centre, where the remains would be scrapped and used to make new parts for Drones. Circle of Drone Life.

“I guess …there really is nothing else.” Anne sighed dejectedly, letting her hands fall to her side and stared up at the ceiling. She didn’t know how to feel about all this. She was sure she would find something, even now. There was this …feeling that she just couldn’t shake away. There were too many coincidences, too many conveniences, it all just seemed too easy. But …maybe it was just that. Coincidences, plain and simple. No greater scheme, no grand reveal, no signs of it being anything else than it seemed to be. Nothing to answer her questions.

“Maybe it’s for the best.” She told herself, the words itself stinging as she spoke them aloud. “I should just stop. It’s not like I’m making any sort of progress, if there even was any to have. I’m only making myself crazy with this and it’s no fair to my moms.”

She let out a heavy sigh. Yeah, she should just drop it. Shelf it. Put it away and never think about it again. Yeah, yeah, that’s what she was going to do. What was she even thinking, trying to pursue this? What good was it to her? What would knowing the details surrounding her birth parents possibly change in her life? Nothing! And why should something change? She had a great life, the best life. She had loving parents, who were absolutely the greatest people in the world, considering they took in a foundling as their own. She had a best friend with whom she would hang out constantly, getting into trouble, having all sorts of fun. She was great at school, top of her class and she knew what she’d want to do after high school. She was happy, healthy and had a bright future to look forward to.

The only thing missing was a girlfriend, but hey, can’t have everything all the time, right? Some thing need a bit of time and work.

Anne smiled at herself, feeling somewhat better after this soul-searching conclusion. She sat up and looked at her computer screen where the file was still displayed. She had no need for it anymore. She grabbed her mouse and was about to make the command to delete the file …when she noticed something. Something strange was going on with the document.

“What the …?”

Anne leaned in close to the screen, so close that her visor was practically touching it. After a few seconds, she saw it. It was like …that the document flickered. So fast that it almost didn’t register. She had been so focused while reading that she hadn’t noticed it. And now that she was so close, she noticed something else. It was almost like some of the words on the file were …out of place? Like they had a slightly different font than the rest of the document. Similar enough that no-one would notice, unless you were practically crawling into your computer screen.

Anne leaned back in her chair, puzzled about this. The computers used in the City Municipal Centre were much older than her laptop and they used different software for their file readers. Older Software that wouldn’t pick up on discrepancies in data files, but her own laptop was released less than a year ago and used brand new software – which was known to mess with older coding formats. Like how it was now messing with the file displayed on her screen.

Something dawned on Anne: what if her answers weren’t on the document, but hidden in the coding that made up the file? It was a long shot, but …there was no harm in trying. Obviously, she couldn’t just, poof, read the codes. You needed special equipment for that.

Luckily, she had special equipment for that.

Anne jumped off her chair and ran to her closet. A couple of years ago, she and her parents watched a movie that involved a hacker breaking into the mainframe of an evil corporation, initially to steal from them but it ended up saving the world. The movie had made such a big impression on Anne that it awakened an interest in computer systems, coding and hacking, and ended up learning up about it. Turned out, she had a real knack for it, almost like it had been something that was always inside her. She taught herself coding, both how to make and break them, and constructed her own splicing kits. In a span of a few months, she made a small name for herself in the hacker community as Wh1teW3nd1g0 – which is, like, the coolest hacker name one could think off.

And while her parents knew she was into coding and had a perchance for tinkering, they never did find out about her abilities as a hacker. They’d surely forbid her from ever doing it again. But Anne never really had any intentions to do something bad with it, besides some minor mischief – or that one time she edited the school lunch menu. This would probably the first time she’d use it to do something that could actually be considered …less than legal. She had no idea if what she was doing was going to bite her in the rear plates, but her curiosity was too great.

She grabbed a stepping stool on her way to her closet, and stood on it the reach the top shelf. With a bit of effort she managed to grab a box that was stashed away under some old clothes.

“Hey, buddy, you still in here?” Anne asked softly as she opened the lid. The box contained various USB drives, a few physical hacking tools, decoders and other stuff, but right now, she was looking for – ah, there he was. She smiled as she saw two antennas sticking out and soon, a little robotic insect skittered out the box and onto her hand. “There you are, Critter.” She greeted, as she gently tapped the top of the cyber-critter’s head.

There were two types of species of Periplaneta Roboticana, more commonly known as a Robo-Roach– on Copper-9, both of them developed and engineered by the Creators in the distant past. You had the more common robo-roach, who were scavengers – and actual pests – who would break apart metal components and use it to create nests and offspring. Those really liked to chew on electrical wiring and cause all sorts of mayhem. It was believed that the Creators had made them to dispose of obsolete machinery, but their tendency to reproduce (the roaches, not the Creators) had brought a boom to the insect population. They were everywhere.

But then, you had these guys. A more sophisticated – almost evolved – version of the robo-roach, created as a mobile keycard of some sorts. This variant had the ability to connect to hardware to access computer systems, connect remotely to devices and even communicate. They could be trained, even be kept as pets, since they didn’t feel the need to – literally - bite the hand that fed them. They charged themselves on common electrical power, like how a Drone could charge itself. They’d sneak into the electrical grid of houses and just feed small amounts. But they were so rare, and usually very skittish, so they weren’t a common sight.

It was pure coincidence that Anne had discovered the keybug – affectionally called by the totally unique name of  Mr. Critter, often abbreviated to Crit – some months ago, while she was doing some casual coding in her spare time. The thing had crawled inside through her window and just …walked up to her desk to make itself comfortable. The critter seemed …oddly interested in her, watching her while she worked, but Anne’s feelings weren’t exactly mutual at first. She had first tried to squash the bug, but when it connected with her computer to ask to spare its life, she got intrigued.

It was then that she remembered an article she had read on one of the hacker forums she sometimes visited. Hackers would use these critters as a mobile connection device, to gain entry to places where they couldn’t reach, or even act like an amplifier. Anne figured it couldn’t hurt to try and train it, so she decided to give it a shot. Turns out that the keybug was quite the natural as well. It responded very well to her instructions, so Anne decided to keep it - him.

Since her parents did allow Anne to have pets, she had to hide him  away while she wasn’t using him for hacking. He had made his little home in the box that contained all of Anne’s hacker tools.

“I need you for something, bud.” Anne whispered as she walked back to her desk. The little critter seemed to cock its head, almost if asking ‘for what?’. She sat down and turned Crit to the screen. “I need to hack this file and I need your help to sort through the data, okay. Can you scan for abnormalities?”

Crit jumped of her hand and skittered over to the laptop’s side panels, checking which data port he was going to use. When he found one he liked, he spun around while a little connector extended out the back. He plugged himself in and retracted his legs into himself, making him look like an ordinary – albeit funny shaped – USB.

A series of messages appeared on screen.

[CONNECTION ESTABLISHED]

[AWAITING INPUT]

“Okay, this shouldn’t take long …” Anne muttered to herself, as she plugged in another data stick that had the program she had made for hacking. It was a simple one. She would use this to download movies, so getting into data file wouldn’t be a problem. Once she had made her connection, she got to work. Hacking into a file like this would be a piece of-

[ERROR! NOT AUTHORIZED!]

Anne blinked in surprise. This was …unexpected. Normally, she would have extracted the relevant codes by now. She tried another command.

[ERROR. NOT AUTHORIZED]

“What in the name of the Creators is …” Anne mumbled to herself. This thing was effectively working against her. She needed to work another approach. She grabbed her box with nifty tools and ruffled around until she found the data drive she needed. This one was a bit stronger, but it was the reason her old laptop had, uh …semi-exploded, so she wasn’t really keen on using it. Right now, she figured it was worth the risk. She switched this with the other and tried again.

She grinned when a new window with codes appeared. “Okay, progress despite some bumps in the road.” She announced, typing in the necessary commands needed. It didn’t take long for Anne to get inside the file and access the log.

“Crit, can you scan for …anything?” She asked the keybug.

[COMMAND AKWNOWLEDGED]

[COMMECING SCAN]

[SCANNING 2%]

[SCANNING 8%]

Anne leaned back, figuring that she let Crit do his work. Scanning the entire document could take a wh-

[SCANNING 100%]

[COMPILING RESULTS]

[ALLERT: SEVERAL DISCREPANCIES DISCOVERED]

A results windows appeared on the screen. Anne bolted upright and started to read them. This whole thing was getting weirder and weirder with every second. If she had to believe these results, it seemed like the document had been tampered with, which could explain the words that used a different font. Somone had made a lot edits to this document, it seems.

A new window popped on her screen.

[QUERY: REVERT TO ORIGINAL VERSION? Y/N?]

“Original version? You can do that?” Anne asked aloud.

[AFFIRMATIVE]

“Wait, hang on …lemme thing.” Anne buried her face in her hands, doubt creeping inside her. She suddenly had a sense of foreboding. This was getting too weird. What was she getting into? Was it really worth it?

'Her name is Anne. Please love her like we would have loved her.'

The memory of the note popped up in her mind. She had been so curious about the truth. She had gone through all this to find something, and now …was she really about to back out when she was moments away from finding some answers?

…

No. No, she couldn’t stop now. Whatever it was on here, she needed to see it. At the very least, she could have closure.

“Yes. Do it.” Anne instructed, her voice barely audible.

[EXECUTING]

When Anne read the revised report, it nearly made her visor pop out her head. The entire report was different. While it was still about two Drones that had perished in a car accident, but …the dates were completely different. According to this, this incident happened two decades before she was even born. Not only that, the signatures that were found in the victims’ cores didn’t match up with the ones that made up her Parental Source Code. Whoever these two were, it was impossible that they were her birth parents. Somone had edited an old report and made it so that it would be one that would have been connected to her case.

Anne slunk back into her chair, her head spinning by this revelation. The report was fake, so that meant …she didn’t even know what it could mean. Did her birth parents fake their death? Did someone else do that? Why go through all this trouble so no-one could find out who the parents of a foundling are? On to do this, and not have it found out by the authorities? This was starting to sound like the plot of a spy movie, or something.

And what would her next move be? She couldn’t request a new scan of her core, that would probably only lead to the same results. She couldn’t reveal that the report was fake, because she would be get in trouble for hacking official documents – publicly available or not.

She had to figure out a way to follow up on this, to get more answers to this mystery. But what? She sighed and turned to her laptop, where everything still was displayed. She figured that she had gotten everything she could out of this. She needed a new angle to work on, but she had no idea what.

“Well, this won’t give me any more answers.” Anne muttered as she closed down her programs and the document, and disconnected all her drives from the laptop. She smiled as she held out her hand and let Crit, who had disconnected himself as well, jump on. “Thank you for your help, Crit.”

The little bug made a chirping sound and nuzzled its tiny head against her thumb, making Anne giggle.

“Okay, back in your box. You deserve a nice nap.” She said as she let the keybug crawl back into her stash, with the rest of her tools. She walked back to her closet, stood on the step stool and placed the box back on the top shelf, standing on her tiptoes to make sure it was way in the back. Ugh, she really needed to make a hiding place under her bed one of these days. Something classic, like with fake floorboards.

As she pulled back her arms, something caught on her sleeve and got pulled along. Before Anne realized, something heavy fell of the shelf – boom, crack – right on her visor.

“Ouch, sonova…” Anne groaned as she stumbled of the stepping stool, her hands pressed against her right eye. What the heck hit her? Was that Grandpa Mike’s lucky wrench? How did it end up in her closet? Wait, priorities! She ran up her mirror and …yup, there it was. A cracked visor, for real this time. “Ugh, not again …my moms are going to – agh!”

She winced when she suddenly felt her visor heat up. She pressed her hand against her eye and yelped in surprise when she felt something burn her hand. And then …it stopped, as suddenly as it started. Even the pain was gone.

Very much confused, Anne turned back to the mirror. As she caught her reflection in …her core almost stopped. The crack in her visor …was gone. Completely. Like it was never there.

“Okay …this time I know there was something.” Anne muttered to herself. She leaned in close, trying to see something weird, but …nothing. A completely undamaged visor. Nothing that showed that something had happened. This was …new. Drones just didn’t heal like that. Not without medical nano-paste and even then it would take much, much longer than just a few seconds.

Anne knew she wasn’t going crazy. There had been a wound. And now, that wound had been healed.. She remembered the last time when she thought that she had injured herself. She had felt that same burning sensation too. She must have really cracked her visor then, but it had healed …on its own.

She needed to be certain.

Only one way to know for certain.

She needed to test this.

Anne opened her lowest drawer and started to rummage through it. Eventually, in the back of the drawer – hidden beneath an adult graphic novel that Ash had gifted her a while ago – was another present that the redheaded Drone had given her a while ago: a switchblade. Her parents would freak if they knew she had this, so it was stashed away in her ‘secret shame drawer’.

She rolled up her sleeves and opened up the blade. Anne licked her lips nervously. Was she really going to do this? What if it wouldn’t happen again? But she couldn’t just walk up to her parents and claim she thinks she has ‘magic healing powers’ now, either.

“Okay, Anne Elliot Brinkman, you can do this.” She told herself, steeling herself for what she was going to do. Just …one little cut, to prove your theory. Nothing too big. Just enough to see the results. “Ooh boy …okay. One …two …two-and-half …THREE!”

There was the sound of metal piercing metal and Anne let out a surprised squeak. She held up her hand and gasped. She had been so nervous that she had put a bit too much force in her swing. Instead of making a cut …the blade was embedded into her hand, with the tip of the blade sticking out her back of her hand.

Anne inhaled deeply and held her breath, keeping herself from screaming. She quickly pulled out the blade, whimpering as she did it. She threw the blade aside and held her injured hand. There was a neat little hole, right in the middle of it. It was then that she realized …what a stupid idea this actually had been.

“What’s your glitch, Anne!?” She asked herself, feeling incredibly dumb for this dangerous action. “Of course, you don’t have magic healing powers. No, right now, there’s a hole in your hand and you’re going to have to explain to your parents why-“

A burning sensation started to build up in her hand, halting her self-deprecating reprimand. She gasped when she saw the edges of the wound …light up. Glowing red, like they were burning hot. Scratch that, exactly like it was burning hot. She could feel the heat rising up from it. The wound started to close up, slowly but surely. It was like someone was playing a video in reverse. A few moments later, the burning faded away and her hand cooled down.

Anne held out her hand in front of her, a dumbfounded expression on her face. The entire hand was completely healed. No sign that she had been wounded. Even the oil from the wound had evaporated. She turned her hand to the other side and even there, it was healed.

Anne stumbled backwards, her head even more spinning. Her knees his the edge of her bed, making her fall backwards. As she laid down, staring at the ceiling, she tried to make sense of everything. It was all …so much: the fake report with the possibilities surrounding her parents and now, this healing ability? What else was going to happen? Was she going to sprout wing or something weird like that? Was it connected to her birth parents? Had it something to do with why they had left her?

Once again, Anne was left with more questions than the answers she’d gotten. But even with all the weirdness, she knew deep inside her core that she was getting close.

…

Wait …her core?

Anne bolted upright. She had an idea. There was something that she could do that would yield more answers. It was going to be risky, but …she couldn’t walk away from this. She had to look up a few things first to make sure, but …yeah, this could work.

“I’m going to need an accomplice, though.” Anne said to herself with a grin.

She suddenly heard her mother call her from downstairs. “Anne, can you come down for dinner, sweetheart?”

“Coming, momma!” Anne answered, walking out her room. She never noticed the notification on her laptop.

[ERROR! CALLBACK PING FAILED!]

[kaaragen]

By the Scenic Route

(A short(ish) fic inspired by this conversation with @stellanslashgeode)

Ahsoka glared at her datapad as if narrowing her eyes further would force the information to align in a way she liked. Sat in the Noti pod that was now her base of operations, the data was refusing to comply. However she spun it, twisted it, rearranged it, pleaded with it, argued, and threatened to throw it against the wall, the datapad was resolute.

No purgil migrations would be happening for another two years. Minimum.

Which meant her chances of escaping Peridia were zilch. Nada. Nought.

She sighed and leaned back against the cold metal of the wall, stretching her legs out across her cot, long lekku draping down toward her waist. Months they’d been out here, with no sign of a way out. She’d briefly scouted the space around the planet with Huyang, scoping with the sensors as far as possible, but wherever Peridia was it was the ass-end of it. Nothing was out there for light years.

And while she was stuck here, Thrawn was back home. Doing who knew what. Yes, sure, she trusted Ezra, trusted Hera and Luke and everyone, but still.

The sound of running feet scuffing through dust twitched her montrals and the sigh was leaving her lips before Sabine even skidded to the open hatch.

“Master!” Sabine shouted, doing nothing for Ahoska’s headache. “The bandits are attacking!”

Ahsoka feathered fingers to her temple. “Sabine, for the love of the Force, can you and Shin find other ways of hanging out...”

Sabine looked affronted, even as her cheeks reddened. “Hang out--what do--they’re murderous, rampaging bandits!”

Ahsoka crossed her arms sourly. “Really? And when was the last time they murdered something more valuable than flowers?”

“I--”

“Never mind!” Ahsoka threw up her hands and stood, storming past Sabine and into the cold light of the village. The Noti looked spectacularly unbothered for people apparently about to be raided, going about their daily tasks of mending the curving, snail-like pods, caring for the children and organising the supplies. A couple poked their eyestalks toward Ahsoka and Sabine but most paid them no mind as Ahsoka strode for her howler, Yoti, snoozing at the edge of the village circle. She gestured and Yoti responded to her presence, yawning and stretching.

“I’m going out,” Ahsoka said, gathering up her saddle and reins and putting them on Yoti, “I place you in full charge of the defence of the village.”

Sabine put her hands on her hips, frowning. “Well, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“You’re welcome Padawan. Enjoy the lightsabre duel. Make sure the plant pots stay safe.” She cracked the reigns and Yoti shot off, bounding across the mottled earth.

“Sheesh...go have a wank or something, don’t take your frustration out on me...” she heard Sabine mutter.

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

Ahsoka wasn’t aware of how long she rode, or even where. The light didn’t change much at the best of times, and much of the planet had a drab, hewn grey. But she could pick out some markers to lead her back to the Noti. For everything else, she had the Force.

She breathed deeply. Casting her eyes up into the cloudless day, the pale blue of the sky revealed nothing, save for the purple line cutting across the heavens like a lightsabre blade. Huyang had determined that that phenomenon, whatever it was, was several million lightyears away but was unable to determine what it was. Focusing on it and questing through the Force in the past had brought Ahsoka nothing but a deep, sickly feeling so she’d ignored it since.

What was she going to do? Everything inside her was screaming at her with visions of destruction, death, returning to the galaxy to fine the Empire renewed and everyone she knew gone. Again.

Sometimes she could shut it out. Sometimes she could keep it quiet. But there were nightmares. And during the day, they would intrude into her consciousness, jabbing like needles into her skin.

It was happening again.

She breathed. She let the rhythmic thump of her mount’s stride reverberate. She reached through the echoing pulse of her feet striking the ground. Followed the ripple of its waves into the grass. Followed the pollen leaking from the grass up and up into the air. Followed them as they dappled down, landing across furrowed ground and then some tools and then the sides of a hut and up and up and landing on...

Something...familiar?

She opened her eyes, confused. Ahsoka cast her gaze to the East and directed Yoti to follow a path she hadn’t traversed before. The path led her toward a mountain, where tumbled statues fell across the ground, large stone hands that had once been upraised in triumph now beseeching to anyone passing by. She ignored them, focusing on the horizon getting closer and closer, crossing a small stream.

The curve of the planet unrolled and she came across a small hut with a flat roof, sat at the end of a ploughed field. Several crops poked from the furrows of the ground, some hanging fruits as well as rooted vegetables. Ahsoka swung off the howler, and walked across the field, her eyes never leaving the figure sitting in a cross-legged meditation pose on the hut’s roof.

Ahsoka halted a meter away and stared. “Barriss?”

Barriss Offee, for it was she, cracked open an eye and turned her head slightly. She wore a plain, loose black tunic, a shawl wrapped over her hair, the black freckles of her diamond tattoos across her nose and cheeks standing out from the yellow skin. A few lines streaked her face, but still recognisably her.

“Ah, hello Ahsoka,” she said, closing her eyes again. “My apologies, I’m in the middle of completing an exercise. Would you mind waiting?”

Ahsoka raised a bewildered brow.

Barriss’ eyes flew open and her mouth twisted into a rictus. She toppled off the side of her hut as if she’d had a heart attack.

Thud!

“...Owww...”

Ahsoka looked down at Barriss, rather inelegantly sprawled upside down with her ankles in the region of her ears, wincing at what was an almighty whack to the head when she fell.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Ahsoka asked, more in shock than anything else.

“I live here!” Barriss replied. She scooted herself around to a seated position, rubbing the back of her head. She cast a vicious glare at Ahoska, as if she’d missed a ‘private property - keep out!’ sign. “What are you doing here?”

“I...” Ahsoka started and then trailed off. She’d been asking herself that same question, repeatedly. “I...live here too...I guess.”

“You guess? Are you not aware?” Barriss scoffed, getting to her feet. She froze slightly and cast a worried eye at her. “You’re not...you’re not here for...?”

“You? No. Until this moment I had no idea you were here.” Ahsoka frowned. “What are you doing here?”

A dry, mirthless chuckle escaped Barriss’ throat. “What do you think? Hiding. Trying to find some semblance of life away from it all. I had to run to entirely different galaxy to escape my demons.” She paused, her expression falling into a pit. “Seems they found me anyway.”

Ahsoka swallowed. “I’m...Barriss I’m not looking to...” She shook her head. “How did you find your way here?”

“The fairy tales. I always like them. I read up on purgil migration patterns and thought I’d take the chance. Anything was better than...than where I was.” She cleared her throat. “The Inquisitorious...it was...”

“I know,” Ahsoka interrupted. “We found the list.”

She’d spent days staring at it, when she’d seen Barriss’ name among the reports, declared dead some two years after the rise of the Empire. There had been a part of her that had ached. Ached for the loss of closure. For the missed opportunity to talk. But she’d put it away and had largely not thought about Barriss for nearly thirty years.

Now she was suddenly, quietly, back in her life.

She almost couldn’t process it. There was the face she remembered from her youth. Older now, but still her. The person she’d almost died with, multiple times. The person she’d gone through a war with. The person she’d grown up with.

The person she’d felt...

Who had betrayed...

Barriss’ eyes flicked to her, and their gazes hooked into each other for a long moment.

Barriss’ lip trembled. “I...I wouldn’t presume to hope that you’d know...but I want to say that I’m so sorry for--”

“Barriss, stop.”

Just like that, she couldn’t take it anymore. She collapsed into a squat, energy draining out of her. Her arms hung limp over her knees and Barriss said nothing, just watched her.

“I’m...I’m so tired.” Admitting it felt strange, but it came with a pulse of truth. She took a deep breath and ploughed through. “I get it. I don’t agree with what you did, but I understand it. I’ve been fighting, constantly, since I was fourteen years old. The Empire has been gone for twelve years and I’m still fighting. Even now, stuck here, all of my thoughts are about trying to get back, trying to keep fighting, and what will happen if I don’t.

“I was angry with you. I’m not going to lie, I spent a lot of hours imagining confronting you in the aftermath of...of it...”

“Did any of them take place in a galaxy far, far away?” Barriss asked weakly.

Ahsoka cracked a smile. “No, but a spectacular number ended with you getting punched.”

Barriss’ face twitched. “Can’t say I wouldn’t have deserved it.”

“But seeing you, now, just makes me think...that I’m too exhausted for this anymore. I’m too exhausted to stay angry. Or anything.”

A long silence stretched between them.

Barriss cleared her throat. “I don’t...I don’t want to give advice but...if you really can’t get back, then perhaps take that as a sign?”

Ahsoka squinted up at her.

“The Force and I...we don’t have the best relationship. I’m trying to find my way back to it, to let it back into my life. But it’s been good out here. It gave me time to think. To decompress. To...” She waggled her hands. “To rest. Maybe you’re getting a signal that you should do the same?”

Ahsoka swallowed. There as a part of her that rebelled at that idea. That couldn’t stand the idea that she should just leave things be. That wanted to rage against the infinite box she was placed in. But...but what good would it do to even return to the galaxy if she was this tired?

Her confrontation with Anakin had told her something; that death wasn’t the right path. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t have some rest. That she couldn’t take a break. That she couldn’t let herself truly breathe...

She chuckled softly and stood. Maybe the Force had led her with its pollen path?

“Thanks, Barriss. I think I needed to hear that.”

Barriss smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You’re welcome, Ahsoka. May the Force be with you.”

Ahsoka nodded and turned to go to Yoti. She reached halfway across the field, before pausing and then swinging back. Barriss stared at her, rooted to the spot, eyes wide and a trembling across her face.

Ahsoka swallowed and opened her mouth--

“Do you want to see my village?”

Barriss blinked. “What?”

Ahsoka squeezed her eyes shut. All the vaunted maturity she’d thought she’d gained over the years fled out of her system and suddenly she was a teenager again, desperate to say something but not knowing how to or even what the something was beyond a vague feeling. But this time the feeling was clear: she wanted her friend back.

She opened her eyes, and there was Barriss and for the first time she saw all the fear that had coagulated in her being. “Do you...do you think we could just pretend that we talked it all out a long time ago? That we moved past it?”

Barriss held still a moment, then she crumpled back against her hut. Her breath came thick and short, and she squeezed her eyes closed. For a moment, Ahsoka thought she was going to vomit, but she seemed to get herself under control.

“I would like that,” she gasped. “I would like that very much.”

A wave of relief, carrying with it a long-buried feeling, settling over her like an old cloak. Not exactly comfy, perhaps, and maybe not fitting right anymore. But comfortable, with the familiar scent providing warmth. She walked to Barriss and lightly put her hand on her shoulder. Barriss looked up at her wide-eyed, hopeful and scared.

“Then let’s do that.” Ahsoka smiled.

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

The ride back was comfortable, the two catching up on the way. Barriss didn’t have much to tell, apart from her “less-than-daring escape” as she put it, and Ahsoka chided her to come up with something more entertaining to tell later. From Ahsoka’s side there was so much.

“So they built two superweapons?” Barriss queried, riding behind Ahsoka on the mount, her hands resting on Ahsoka’s thighs in a light way that suggested she was afraid of touching something scalding.

“Yeah. I think there must have been an underspend in the budget somewhere.”

“And they called this planet killing weapon the Death Star?”

“They sure did.”

“What have they called the solar system destroying weapon? The Sun Crusher? The Starkiller?”

Ahsoka laughed. They crested a rise and came onto view the village, the pods all miraculously undestroyed and unraided.

“Here we are,” Ahsoka said. “It’s not much, but it’s a base.”

“It looks lovely. I’ve traded with the Noti before. Very friendly people. You’ve done well.” Barriss squinted past Ahsoka’s arm. “Are those Scar-Waste Bandits?”

“Yes.” Ahsoka frowned. Alright, this was unusual. Usually the bandits scuttled off after a bit of ritual bellowing and a lightsabre fight between Sabine and Shin, that usually ended with Shin fleeing and threatening vile retribution like some HoloNet serial villain. But this time, they were hanging about. Drinking tea with the Noti, spinning some of the kids in their disc-shaped hats, and generally being pleasant people. Their helmets were off, pale blue skin with green eyes peering out. “This isn’t normal.”

“From my experience, they’re not ones to trade or be pleasant, even when it would be more advantageous to them. But they leave you alone if you give them a sufficiently thorough kicking.”

Ahsoka raised a brow at Barriss, and her cheeks darkened. “They caught me on a bad day and took a potato crop that had just ripened. I’m not perfect!”

Ahsoka slid off Yoti and Barriss followed her through the village. She reached out, trying to locate Sabine and twigged her presence as coming from their pod.

With...someone else...

Ahsoka halted outside of the pod, the hatch door shut. “Sabine?” she called.

Someone swore. There was a fumbling, stumbling noise, two people in a hushed argument. Sounds of items being thrown and clinking against the walls and floor. An isolated curse. And then the hatch popped open and Sabine popped out, flushed and panicked and wearing a light grey tunic that was familiar and also not Sabine’s.

“Oh! Hey, Master, I thought you would be longer--that is, it’s good to see you back!”

“Master?” Barriss queried with a twitch of her lips.

Ahsoka flapped her hand. “What are you doing?” she asked Sabine.

“Uh...well, actually, I’m in the process of negotiating a peace treaty with the bandits.”

“Really?” Ahsoka’s voice dripped with so much sarcasm it nearly pooled at her feet.

“Pretty intense negotiations actually.” Sabine toed her boot into the ground, the ankle and leg above its hem bare.

Ahsoka closed her eyes and let out a suffering sigh. She turned to Barriss. “I don’t suppose I could stay at your place?”

For what might have been the first time in her life, Ahsoka saw a genuine smile cross Barriss’ face. She slid her hand into Ahsoka’s and gently squeezed.

“Come on, I’ll take you home by the scenic route.”

Home. She liked the sound of that word and the implications it held.

Ahsoka squeezed the hand back. “That sounds like just what I need.”

[hannahhook7744]

Where Are You Now? (Cause I'm Thinking Of You);

Cover:

Summary: The family wakes up thirteen years after Bruno returned to the family to find him gone yet again. They naturally freak out. Trigger Warnings: disappearances, premature labor, near death experiences, mention of homelessness, overworking of a pregnant woman, minor violence, guilt, fear for a loved one, etc. Encantober 2024: Return. Co-written with @igetthedisneybox .

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

Bruno was gone—gone without a note. 

Again.

“Oje. Has anybody seen Bruno?” Alma asked a small handful of the family. The others were out in town, but according to Dolores, she hadn’t heard him out there either.

Everyone present either shook their heads, or couldn’t hear her over the chattering of the family. Casita was getting awfully crowded these days.

Squeak. 

Alma looked to her left and saw one of Dolores’ four-year-old twins, Elmira, standing there, looking wide-eyed. She definitely took after her mother.

Her and her twin’s skin was lighter than their mother's, but darker than their grandmother's and just a shade darker than their father’s. But where Princesa had teal eyes and blonde hair, Elmira had her mother’s dark brown eyes and curly light brown hair. 

“Chiquita,” Alma called. “Do you know where Tío Abuelo Bruno is?”

She looked down at her feet guiltily, before quietly answering—always the more mindful twin when it came to her mother’s hearing—“No.”

Alma saddled over to the four year old. Her bones creaked with each step, and she muttered curses under her breath, glad that Elmira didn’t have any superhearing like Dolores. 

“Elli, If you know something about Tío Abuelo Bruno, can you tell me please?” She looked at her great-granddaughter kindly.

“He saids he'd be back.”

“Did he say where he was going?” Panic spiked in Alma’s heart. She couldn’t lose her Brunito again.

Elmira shook her head. “He saws somethin’ bad.”

Alma felt her hands begin to shake, but she clenched them into fists. Elmira didn’t need to see her panic like this. “Thank you for telling me, Elmira.”

“De nada, abuela.” Elmira fidgeted with her skirt, looking over at her mother. “Mamá, I'm hungry.” 

Dolores had heard her from the other side of the room, of course, and came over to pick her daughter up. “I think Tío will be fine, Abuela.” She whispered to her.

“I hope you're right, Nieta.” Alma sighed. 

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

Word got around the Encanto fast that the Madrigal’s beloved seer was once again missing and, before an hour was even up, the entire family was back at the Casita.

Panicking. 

The exact opposite of what Alma wanted. 

“My padres, Félix’s Papá, and the Guzmáns are keeping an eye out for him as we speak.” Agustín said, trying to soothe a crying Julieta. 

“Mi vida, your hermanito will be fine, I promise.” Félix claimed, circling around a pacing Pepa who was murmuring ‘clear skies’ for the first time in eleven years. 

Luisa was also having a hard time staying calm, gently cradling one of her own twins—Emilia and Tito—while her husband, Ryder, held the other and tried to comfort her. 

“You don’t th-think he left the Encanto for good, do you?” She asked, addressing the elephant in the room; the question no one wanted to ask.

“What? No, of course not. Tío Bruno wouldn't do that—he loves the family.” Mirabel protested immediately. “Elmira said he saw something right?” 

“He also saw something when he left the first time.” Camilo mentioned. His own wife, Yanamaria, was standing several feet away from him, sipping on a drink. Camilo had adopted her twin daughters, Amelia and Sofia, after marrying her three months ago when the pair were only two months old. 

Alma wasn't sure she liked the young lady. But maybe her judgment was being clouded by his past two lackluster relationships and the fact that she privately thought Camilo’s best friend, Mina, would be a much better (and kinder) wife  for him.  Not that she would ever voice these thoughts to him. She had learned her lesson after Agustín, thank you very much. 

Dolores elbowed Camilo, hissing. “Camilo.”

“What? I can't tell the truth? He did!”

“What I'm saying is that he probably just ran off to prevent whatever he saw from happening and once he does that, he'll be back. Because he knows he can trust us now.” Mirabel continued looking very confidently, wrangling her hands together, acting as if she hadn't heard her 'mellizo’. 

Isabela nodded along. “Mira’s right. We need to trust Tío Bruno. It’s the least we can do.”

“And besides, Señor Bruno promised Elmira he'd walk her to her door. He wouldn't break his promise.” Bubo chimed in from the doorway, startling everyone because he and Miguel had left with Antonio to watch the rest of the children before the conversation had started. 

Julieta sniffed and whipped at her eyes. “Dios mío, look at me. Sitting here crying like a bebé. You all are right.”

“That’s the spirit, Mi esposa.” Agustín hummed, resting a hand on her shoulder; Alma couldn’t help but be surprised by how much calmer he was being than the rest of them. That wasn't to say that he didn't care, however, because she could still see the nervousness in his eyes—unlike with Yanamaria, who seemed like she couldn't care less. At least Raimi and Rosa were acting serious, for once.

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

“Mamá!” Arlo whined, immediately reaching out to her the moment Isabela stepped into the room. 

Zoey was snoring in the crib next to him and Miguel Jr—who they'd named after Mirabel’s husband, Miguel Rivera, after he'd delivered them when he and Isabela had gotten lost in a storm while out in the forest—was laughing at something. 

Isabela hadn't been thrilled to have triplets at first. Far from it in fact, but the older they got the more the florist grew to love them. Arlo especially.

“Hey, nene. Mamá’s here.” She scooped her baby into her arms, gently brushing his black hair from his forehead. He had his father's nose but everyone could already tell that he was going to grow up to be a mama’s boy. 

“Missed you.” Arlo declared, resting his tiny head on her shoulder. His tiny fist clenched tightly around the flower plushie Mirabel had made for Zoey. Somehow, the bear plushie Mirabel had made for him and the one she'd made for Zoey kept getting mixed up—no matter how many times they'd switched them back. 

If she didn't know better, Isabela would almost say that they were doing it on purpose. The fact that Migeul Jr’s wolf plushie never got mixed up with them only made her more sure of her suspicions. But it wasn't as if she could get confirmation from her children—they didn't even speak in full coherent sentences yet. 

“I missed you too, mi flor. And your hermanos, obviously.”

Zoey snored louder. Chubby hands squeezing the colorful bear plushie that she was chewing on. 

And Miguel Jr laughed innocently once again, clapping. Completely oblivious to the mild panic his tías, primos, and padres were feeling over his favorite great uncle’s second disappearance. 

Isabela could only hope that Mirabel's suspicions over why it had happened were correct. She didn't know if she could handle losing her uncle for another decade.

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

Mariano was not fond of discourse.

But when one joins a familia like the Madrigals, bad things happen sometimes.

As of now, Mariano could only hold his wife and children close, and hope that everything would turn out okay.

Oscar seemed to be able to tell that something was going on and was crying quietly—which had been very concerning in the first couple of months after he was born a year ago before it had been confirmed that he was for sure healthy. 

Princesa was oblivious and looking at herself in her madre’s favorite golden hand held mirror that Mariano had gifted Dolores on their first date. Striking a pose she had seen her favorite character on the strange box that Auradon called a television do numerous times. 

Elmira, on the other hand, was sitting quietly in his arms. Looking thoughtful.

Dolores had dozed off at some point. 

“Oscar, are you alright?” Mariano asked his son softly.

The bebé shook his head, causing his brown curls to fall into his eyes. Causing him to frown as he clung to his madre (who thankfully had her earplugs in). “Mamá sad.” 

Oscar had definitely inherited Mariano’s big heart. “I know, mijo. But she will get better, I promise.”

In truth, Mariano had no idea if Bruno would come back.

He was the head of a small ensemble of men and women who’d decided to watch over the town’s entrance, and make sure that there were no civil disputes between its citizens. Handling the few crimes that came up every now and then in whatever capacity he could. He probably should have noticed Bruno leaving, but he’d been trying to settle an argument turned physical between Abraham Cerebro de Burro and his very own brother-in-law, Ryder Nattura, over the donkey farmer’s new fence and lock. Or lack therefore of. 

Which had been very hard to handle considering that an hour into the argument, Mariano had been about ready to throttle the man himself. Señora Alma had demanded a hundred times that he replace the damn lock on his estúpido fence but the cheap bastardo still refused to replace it—even when his own children pleaded with him to do it. 

Mariano had lost count of just how many times Luisa had had to chase after the man’s donkeys because of the farmer’s stinginess. 

The man was lucky that Luisa was even still willing to help him chase after the donkeys after the stress he had caused her during her pregnancy. Luisa and Ryder’s twins weren't even supposed to be born yet but had been anyway the last time the donkeys had got out a month ago. After which the farmer had promised he'd really replace the lock that was older than Mariano was for real this time. 

Or maybe the fool was just lucky because of how apologetic his children were whenever Luisa had to fix his mess. 

He was starting to get angry again just remembering the encounters, but Elmira snuggled against him, which jerked him back to the present.

“Papá?” 

He pulled his full attention to his daughter. “Si, mi corazón?”

“Lo lamento...” She bit her lip, eyes welling up. 

“What? Elli, you have nothing to be sorry for!” Mariano pulled her even closer, gently running his hands through her curls.

“But I saws Tío Bruno go.” The brunette sniffled. “Ands Abuela Pepa cryin’.” 

“That wasn’t your fault.” He stated firmly, well aware of the fact that it was something his younger Prima-en-ley had needed to hear twenty three years ago but never had: the last time señor Bruno had left. 

“¿Promesa?” Her big brown eyes met his own as she stuck her thumb in her mouth. A nervous habit they hadn't gotten her to shake yet. 

“Promesa.” Mariano kissed her on the forehead.

“I'm tired.” She yawned quietly, resting her head on his chest. 

“Then why don’t we all go and take a siesta? Maybe Tío will be back when we wake up.” He got up from his chair, still holding Elmira. 

Princesa didn't pay either of them any mind. 

“Okay papa.”

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

“Any word on Bruno?” Ryder asked his cuñado, worrying his lip as he replaced the ice pack he'd been holding to his black eye. 

His suegra had offered to cook him something to heal up his injuries that morning when she saw him (after she had found out where and why he'd gotten them) but the reindeer herder had refused. If she healed his minor injuries, then the donkey farmer would find out and demand she heal his minor injuries which could very well spiral into the town once again taking advantage of Julieta's kindness. Something Ryder refused to allow to happen.

And no, it wasn't just because he wanted the donkey farmer to suffer for as long as possible for harassing his wife into doing the very job that could have cost them their children. 

….

Okay maybe part of his reasoning did have to do with that. But given the situation Ryder thought he was allowed to be petty.

“Socorro thought she saw him…but it turned out to be a homeless guy.” Miguel Sr sighed as he plucked on the strings of his guitar.

“Honeymaren hasn't seen anything either but Kristoff said that if Bruno isn't back soon, he'd be willing to ask Grand Pabbie for help.” Ryder offered, uncharacteristically frustrated.

He hated seeing his wife cry—she’d been stressed enough with the early arrival of the twins and the more…stubborn and selfish… townspeople (the number of which had thankfully dwindled over the years) who still asked her for help with every little thing. She hadn't needed this. 

Miguel rolled his eyes. “You mean the pile of rocks?”

“The trolls, yes.” Ryder didn't blame Miguel for his reaction—he didn't trust Kristoff's family very much either. 

Miguel wasn’t in the mood to poke Ryder further, so he let the subject of the ‘trolls’ drop. “Anyway, how far do you think Bruno could have gotten? He’s what, pushing sixty?”

“He’s closer to pushing seventy.” Ryder snorted. “And I honestly don't have a clue. I don't think he's ever left the Encanto alone before—and well, the Madrigal family genes are crazy. I mean his bisabuela is still alive.” 

Despite falling off a cliff on her wedding day, getting near drowned by an octopus, being bitten by a venomous snake, getting electrocuted after sticking a fork in the socket, and having her parachute fail after going skydiving. 

Pedro and Benito's mother sure was something.

“True.” Miguel huffed and placed his guitar away, unable to focus. He was worried about the familia, especially his Mirabel. She claimed she was fine, but he could see right through her.

“All we can hope is that he'll return safely and that our in-laws don't kill him when he does.” Ryder couldn't help but smile at the thought, though he knew it wasn't exactly an appropriate thought to have at the moment.

It was true though, Bruno would be lucky if he made it past Pepa and Isabela alive.

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

“Clear skies, clear skies, clear skies.” Antonio muttered to himself as he anxiously paced, two nervous habits he'd picked up from his mother and was trying to shake. 

It wasn't often the wild child got stressed out enough to use the mantra or pace but considering the situation, the eighteen year old wasn't sure anyone would be able to blame him for it. Tío Bruno was missing again and no one knew where he'd gone. 

He wasn't in the walls. 

Antonio had checked six times and Casita said he wasn't. 

No one in the Encanto other than his little violín had seen him go. 

“Clear skies, clear skies, clear sk—”

“You okay, Tonito?” Camilo had been walking by, when Casita had gotten his attention, and showed him Antonio, about to have a panic attack.

Antonio nearly leapt across the room, not having heard his brother approaching. Which, at any other time, might have been amusing. But given the situation, it was only all the more worrying. “‘Milo, ay dios mío, don't scare me like that!” 

“You better watch your mouth, or Mamá’s gonna zap you.” The barest hint of a smile crossed Camilo’s face.

The animal whisperer rolled his eyes, waving him off—heart still racing. “Don't be a Soplón.”

“I won’t…for a price.” His eyes glinted with familiar mischief.

“Oye! Blackmail? After all I've done for you? I should let Parce eat you.” He wouldn't. He knew it and Camilo knew that it was an empty threat, but it was still a fun one to use. 

Camilo snorted. “I’d love to see Parce try.” His smile vanished. “But seriously, hermanito. Are you okay?”

Antonio thought about it for a moment. Thought about whether or not the little thing he had noticed was enough to worry his brother about. Then, he remembered what Mirabel had always told him ‘If it's big enough to worry or upset you, then say something.’ He bit his lip to give him courage and looked around before biting the bullet and answering. “I can't find Tío Bruno's rats.”

Camilo raised an eyebrow. “Did Parce finally eat them?”

“No, I asked around. Nobody is fessing up and I haven't seen them since he left.” He wrangled his hands, trying to reduce some of his panic. 

“So, you think Tío brought them with him?”

“Sí.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But I don't understand why he'd take them if his leaving is temporary.”

At Camilo's silence, Antonio’s nerves only grew. “I know, I know. It's a pequeño thing but it's just—it’s big enough for me to worry about whether Mirabel is right or not.”

“She’s right. When has Miraboo ever been wrong?” Camilo placed a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder. “And look, whatever reason Tío had to bring the rats, I’m sure it’s a good one. Está bien?”

“Está bien.” Antonio let out a shaky breath. “Gracias, hermano.”

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

Mirabel had said what she’d said. And she believed it.

Sort of.

She could lie to her family, but she couldn’t lie to herself. She was worried about Tío Bruno. Very afraid, in fact.

There was a tug on her skirt. 

She looked down, and saw Dolores’ oldest, Princesa. “Hey, ‘Cesa. What’s up?”

“No sad.” The little blonde glared, clutching something behind her back. Something that looked very familiar.

“I’m not sad.” Mirabel immediately deflected. Then she remembered she was talking to a four year old. “Whatcha got there?”

“¡Mentir!” The four year old wasn't fooled and was not amused as she held out one of Bruno's vision tablets. Just where had she gotten that?

She grabs the vision from Princesa. “Wha–where did you find this?!”

“Da Wall. Tío Parce showed me.”

“You went into the walls without adult supervision? Miércoles, Dolores is gonna kill me!”

Princesa shook her head, stubbornly. “No, Tío Parce is a adult. And he went in da wall.”

“Parce is a jaguar!” Mirabel stopped herself before she could argue semantics with a toddler. “Nevermind.” 

She looked at the vision tablet, and immediately blanched at the sight: there was a little girl, around Princesa and Elmira’s age, cowering in a closet filled with crosses on one side in one part of the vision.

On another, there was a little boy standing in front of a younger girl and a baby as a giant of a man towered over them. 

In a third, there was a boy covering his eyes and  screaming as an older boy tried to calm him. 

And in the last part of the vision, there was a boy bruised and bloody holding a rosary. 

So, in short, it was a horrifying vision that a four year old should not have been able to get her hands on. 

“Mierda.” She whispered. “Princesa, go find your Mamí. I need to talk to your Bisabuela right now.” Tucking the vision tablet under her arm, Mirabel tapped her foot on the tile floor. Casita responded, and moved her downstairs to Abuela Alma, who was with Julieta, Pepa, and their husbands.

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

“Abuela!” 

Alma looked up from where she was comforting Julieta, and saw Mirabel speeding towards them with the help of Casita. “Mirabel, what–”

“Princesa found the vision that caused Bruno to leave.” Mirabel held the vision in question close to her chest with one arm, clutching her skirt in the other—it didn't look much different from the one she made shortly before Bruno came back. It was a similar teal color with the family’s different symbols on it, but symbols representing the new spouses and children had been added as well. 

There was a reindeer to represent Luisa’s husband, Ryder Nattura, and a skeletal guitar to represent Mirabel’s own husband, Miguel Rivera. There was a bear costume to represent Isabela’s husband, Bubo. There was a mamabear with a baby bear to represent Camilo's wife and a quill to represent Dolores’ husband, Mariano. There was a violin to represent Elmira and A mirror to represent Princesa, and she had the names of all the ones who were too little to show any clear personality traits sewn into the skirt too. 

Just another not so little detail that showed just how much Mirabel loved their family. 

“What?” Alma stood up. “Let me see.”

“Clear skies clear skies clear skies CLEAR SKIES!”

Thunder rumbled.

Mirabel handed the glass tablet over. 

“Dios mio…” Was all Alma could say when she saw the vision.

“Who are those poor ninos?” Julieta had her hand held over her mouth as she took in the grisly sight.

Augustín pointed. “They’re wherever Bruno is now, I’m sure of it.”

“You think he went to find them?” Félix was clutching Pepa, who was starting to hyperventilate.

Alma let out a shaky sigh. “Knowing my Brunito…most likely.”

“Tío Bruno will likely return when he gets them somewhere safe.” Mirabel would have smiled or sighed in relief at the not quite confirmation that she was right about Bruno not being gone permanently if the vision wasn't so horrifying.

“You think he’ll run into trouble?!” Pepa squeaked. “That man in the vision…Brunito can’t fight! He is too skinny!”

“I don't know.” The seamstress could only hope that her Tío wouldn't do anything too risky….but, seeing how often everyone compared the two of them, she knew that that hope was a fruitless effort. 

Que Dios tenga misericordia de él.

Félix tried to calm Pepa down again. “Bruno is smarter than he seems, eh? He’ll stay out of trouble, especially when there’s children involved.”

Pepa kept taking deep breaths, as Julieta chimed in. “Félix is right. Bruno…he wouldn’t risk the children.”

“What do we tell the others?”

Alma cleared her throat. “We tell them that Bruno is off doing a heroic act. That he is saving children. But, ah—let’s not mention the state of the children.”

“That's probably for the best.”

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

“Tío Bruno’s back!” Antonio whooped as ran back into the Casita, a couple of his animals on his shoulders. 

“What?” Everyone in the sitting room leapt to their feet.

“Cecila said she saw him enter not that long ago! She says he got’s a few people with him.”

Alma and her daughters looked at each other. More people?

“Anyone my son brings into the Encanto is most welcome.” Alma said, albeit hesitantly.

“But what do these people have to do with the children?” Mariano asked, tilting his head. Oscar, in his lap, mimicked him.

“Children?” Antonio looked at his cousins, their partners, his Padres, his tíos, and just basically everyone older than him in confusion before something clicked. “Wait is this about that vision Bruno had that you all refused to show me?”

“Sí.” Alma nodded. “And we did not show you because its contents were much too disturbing for a young man like yourself.”

Antonio did not pout. He did not. But he did shoot Mirabel a betrayal look because honestly, he would have thought his favorite prima would know better than to still treat him as a bebé by now—before Pace tugged on his pants’ leg. Trying to drag him outside, to remind him why he came rushing back to Casita in the first place. 

“Is he close, Tonito?” Camilo asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He’ll admit, he missed his Tío and his telanovas.

Antonio looked at Parce questioningly, getting a growl in return. “Si. He's outside.”

Alma rushed the door. She needed to see her son.

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

Alma stared. 

And stared.

And stared.

And the rest of the family stared with her. None of them quite sure whether or not what they were seeing was real. 

"A little help would be nice." Bruno chuckled awkwardly, a blonde haired toddler in one arm and an even blonder baby in the other. A little red toddler covered in rats clinging to one of his legs anxiously and a grumpy boy with black hair who couldn’t be any older than four or five on the other. 

A teenager and two boys not much younger behind him—arms full of pugs and bags and one boy—one with horrible burns around his milky white, pupiless eyes—even had a frog in his pocket. 

It was quite the sight. 

And that wasn't even covering the fact that the baby was wearing a bag as a diaper and the littlest of the children burlap sacks (or a box, in the boy's case), as clothing. 

“...Bruno Pedro Madrigal Botero where THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?! ” Was the first thing out of Alma’s mouth.

“...Uh, well, you see—remember that place the Auradon folk tried to send me before you set ‘em straight?” Bruno smiled nervously, well aware of the fact all of the kids were cowering behind him. 

“Si?” She shifted nervously, as she continued to take in the state of the children.

“Imayormaynothavebeenthere.”

“YOU WHAT?!”

[aplaceinthedark]

chapter four: FORGET my NAME

Summary: Down in the Shenandoah Valley, there lay a court consisting of the Grim, the Drowned, the Witch and the Watcher.

CW: mentions of religious sacrifice, supernatural themes

Every chapter will have a different cw section. This is Bad Omens rpf, so obviously, I don't know all the little nuances of the members or their family members.

A/N: Some things are color-coded. If any of you are colorblind lemme know. 

If no one was going to tell me what the hell was wrong with the people here and their fascination with some ghost story, I was going to find out myself.

Frustratingly, the camera was a flop. I had tested it out first with Nick, who had been cheeky and flipped it off when he triggered the censor. But my apples vanished at some point in the night without triggering the camera. After a few nights of that, I set it to record regardless of motion. My result was the camera glitching at 3 in the morning, and not coming back online until half an hour later.

If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was like they knew the camera was there.

By wednesday, I was almost fed up with the whole thing. When Nick and I texted, I vented my frustrations, but there wasn't a lot he could do since he was in Richmond. After his ominous message in his driveway, he wouldn't talk about the subject; stating it was because of Granny and the possibility of her overhearing. Then he would distract me by almost quite literally dangling a cat in front of me.

Honestly, I think Jerry had more to say than the whole town combined.

Thursday, I was practically bouncing off the walls with how bored I was. I wanted to work on the house, but Nick wanted to help this weekend. I told myself I wanted to wait because then he would be over more, and… I wanted to hang out with him.

I hadn't realized how lonely I was until I came out here. Most of my so-called friends had really been Mike's, and once he was… gone, they vanished. I hadn't had my own friend in several years, and now that I had one, I almost wanted to cling onto him. Like he would vanish if I let him go.

But because he wasn't there, I decided that it was time to find some answers. And if no one would answer my questions, maybe some books could.

And I was gonna start with this Watcher creature.

The library…I don't know if it was because I had grown up in a city where there were several libraries, but my first thought was that it was the smallest library I'd ever seen. It didn't even take up a whole block, and it was only one story. I almost didn't go in because there was no way anything could be in here.

But I forced myself to go in. There were only two people behind the front desk - probably the only people who worked here - and a few people in what looked like a computer room. I slipped off to the left towards all the books before anyone would notice me. I found a corner where I could work uninhibited.

Unsurprisingly, it only took half an hour to find all I could about the subject of the local legends. It wasn't a whole lot, but more than I thought I would find. I found a few books - if you could call them that - several news articles, and a copy of some cartographer's journal.

Reading through everything, I soon realized why no one would tell me anything: it was because there was nothing to tell. It wasn't because they were scared to say its name; it was because there was nothing on the subject. Nada. Zip. No concrete evidence.

Sure, there were stories. Tales of odd noises heard or glances of something in the corners of their eyes. But it was just that: bare minimum evidence that was blown widely out of proportion. Mostly, it was tales of white dogs or the sound of a string instrument from deep in the woods.

And the Watcher…

It was all over the place. One tale said that the Watcher of the Woods existed as long as the mountains were mountains:

In the days before men, wild animals roamed unchecked across the land. They were as spirits and had all the power of spirits and were wise and could speak. Among them, the Watcher of the Woods was the wisest, for he alone could attain the valley of the deepest green and seek wisdom from the oaken groves.

"In the early stages of the world, the earth was still learning its shape. The shell of the earth cracked, and the land heaved, and the oceans churned. Great mountains were born at the seams of the earth, and great valleys appeared where the land split.

In ages past, all things living commanded infinite power. Some creatures sought to keep their strength secret and refused to share their gifts. Thus, darkness sought to make all creatures equal and share their power equally amongst all things.

Instead, the craven amongst them concealed their Divinity, and left the world death-like and dull. Their True Names were lost, and no more were they as spirits. O ly the Watcher remembered how the world had been, and only the Watcher could guide the others toward the darkest grove to uncover the wisdom of old."

“After a time, the deer heard the response to its plea. “I can do what you ask,” the ancient tree said, “though there will be a cost.”

There were also a lot of animal tales, and I was surprised to see Granny's name in one of them as an intro. I guess there weren't a whole lot of people to talk to in this town. There was "Journey to the Oaken Grove" about how a little rabbit journeyed to the Watcher to seek out answers. There was "The Fox's Shadow" about how a fox left his family and didn't come back right. There was also a tale called "Lost in the Labyrinth" where a deer begged the Watcher to take away its suffering.

“I will pay it,” said the deer, “whatever it may be, if it means I may be free of fear.”

“You must give your heart to me,” said the tree. “To be truly free, you must relinquish your greatest strength, and only then will you find relief.”

“Is it wrong of me to do so?” the deer asked, worrying that it was its fear alone that drove it to ask this of the tree.

So the deer whispered its true name to the great tree, who accepted it tenderly and wove a spell to set the weary deer free.”

“Not at all, dear one,” the tree replied. “You are very brave to make such a sacrifice.”

But the most shocking thing I found? A ten-year-old news article abbut these cultists, and weirdly, a photo of Nick and Noah was in it.

None of this, however, held a candle to the witness accounts of people who lived near the forest. Tales of half-men cultists from the underworld, and on the summer solstice, they would appear to make a sacrifice to the horned king of hell.

Nick's words from this past weekend came back to me. "People here like to think they care about you... they end up leaving you to the lions." Was this what he meant?

Nick 😺🍌: Noah wants to know if it’s okay if he can come over.

Despite what little I found, I still copied down what I could, until my hand cramped and my spare change for the copier was spent. I was close to leaving, having everything packed up and ready to go, when I got a text from Nick. I felt my heart leap, but when I saw the subject matter, I groaned in frustration.

Well at least he’s asking this time.

A part of me wanted to text back “No, absolutely not,” but instead I hesitated. If Nick was certain that Noah’s and my first meeting was a fluke, then maybe I should give him another chance.

Nick 😺🍌: come on, give him another chance.

Nick 😺🍌: are you busy?

No, but I’m not home right now. I’m leaving the library right now.

Nick 😺🍌: Can I ask you for a favor then?

I’m not stealing any babies for you.

Nick 😺🍌: LOL NO can you drop off a book at Granny’s? She’s feeling under the weather and I don’t want her getting any sicker.

Anything for Granny.

Nick 😺🍌: Ty! I’m almost done with my break, but just text me when you’re done and I’ll let you know about Noah when we’re closing up shop here.

Defeated, I picked up the book for Granny and left the library. With all my papers and books, I couldn't help but think of my old college days. Gauging the time, I decided that the trip to the Heritage Center would have to wait until tomorrow.

Granny was delighted to see me. She fussed over me leaving, preventing me from simply dropping off the book and leaving, so I had to stay for a bit. Which was fine, since that meant seeing Jerry and Lydia. I tried to skirt around her questions about me and Nick. He had been right about the rumors, in a way, and judging by how she was talking, Granny wasn't helping.

"I'm just so glad Nicholas is seeing someone," she said as I tried to pick up Jerry. "He's never been quite the same since Noah disappeared."

I froze, letting Jerry make a bid for freedom. "N-Noah?" I asked. "Aren't they friends?"

"Oh, they were. Noah was always staying over, so much that he had his own plate at the table," she said. I wasn't able to school my confused expression quick enough before she looked over at me. "Oh, he probably hadn't told you about him yet. He doesn't like to talk about the subject much."

My unease was growing by the second. "What do you mean he... disappeared?"

Granny got up, motioning for me to follow. I went with her to what looked like a spare bedroom, or a storage room for a bunch of crochet projects. But my eyes fell onto a framed picture on a table as Granny dug through a dresser. It was of Nick, though he had short hair and small spacers in his earlobes. He was kneeling and gripping the hand of a much younger Noah, who also had short hair.

Granny pulled out a manilla folder, drawing my attention away from the picture. "Nicholas was once obsessed with trying to find Noah, but then a year had passed, and he stopped. He threw this away, but I kept it in case he would regret the decision." She then pulled out what looked like an old newspaper clipping.

And above it, in big bold letters..

I didn't want to look, but I knew I was going to have to. The first thing my eyes were drawn to was the picture: a young man, obviously older than the previous picture, but with long dark hair and big dark eyes, smirking at the camera. An exact mirror of the man who had shown up on my property a week ago,

MISSING RESIDENT PRESUMED DEAD