#they would do anything for each other no hesitation

[bloggerspam]

And here it is, the epilogue! We skip back a little bit in this one, for some yummy deleted scenes. Thank you @phantomfen and @haleswallows for your lovely support, this couldn't have happened without ya'll! And thank you @ashrayus for the art that inspired it all. I hope I did you proud!

===

Cass observes BruceBatdad from her vantage point two rooftops away.

She hears StephSpoiler join her soon after, TimRobin following just seconds later.

BruceBatdad is not alone.

A woman and a boy stand before him, and Cass would be a fool to not remember that face, to not know who they are.

Even from so far away, it is hard to forget the woman who gave her candy once, all those years ago.

It is hard to forget her words then too.

I have a son, Talia Al-Ghul had said then, but I'm afraid he does not like sweets, will you throw them away for me?

Cass hears TimRobin and StephSpoiler bicker quietly behind her, lets BabsOracle's soothing voice demanding explanations wash over her in harmony.

JayHood's low timbre joins the cacophony, DickieWing's excited chatter echoing in the comms as he makes his way over. It is Sunday, that Sunday, brunch Sunday, so he is in Gotham tonight.

Bludhaven must be lonely.

She squints. BabsOracle starts to hiss, TimRobin and StephSpoiler tumbling over each other now.

DamianBabyBrother stands at attention, but his gaze is on them.

She waves. He does not wave back. That is okay.

DickieWing cartwheels onto their roof, gives Cass a pat on the head before wrangling the other two.

Cass observes their new baby brother, but does not get much. He is well trained. It does not matter, there will be time to learn.

"Show of hands," BabsOracle's voice is strict, commanding. They all freeze, trained in a better way, "New family member."

Immediately, all hands go up. TimRobin hesitates. It is okay. There will be time.

Cass smiles, watches DickieWing whoop, leading the race back to the Cave.

Cass waves again, but knows not to wait this time, twirling her way through her siblings.

She intends to win the race back home.

===

Alfred contemplates his newest ward as he wipes his hands.

The little one wants to know if there are any tasks assigned to him, which is new and refreshing.

This is, of course, sarcasm.

Master Jason refused to accept food without some kind of chore to exchange.

Miss Cass still shadows him occasionally, on alert for anything Alfred should need.

Even Master Duke is in the habit of asking Alfred if he can help anywhere.

Alfred had indulged them, of course, once in a while. Help them feel at ease.

The problem now is that Master Damian is not actually asking for tasks.

He is asking for information.

That is what intrigues him.

Master Damian stands quietly at attention, patiently, as Alfred considers the best way to navigate this.

"Well," Alfred lifts an eyebrow, "It isn't entirely necessary, Master Damian."

"I must earn my keep," the young master insists, "Blood son or not, I do not plan to waste away here."

Alfred hums. "Then I suppose it would depend on where your skills lie, Master Damian."

"I was trained in survival," Master Damian replies with nary a pause, "I can cook, and do basic cleaning." He tilts his head, reminding Alfred of a Young Master Bruce. "Admittedly, I am unsure of my skill level with no-one to compare to, as it was not necessary to my training."

Alfred lets that ruminate. He could have the young master help with dishes first, chat as he cooks for the family. It would be nice to have someone in residence to help with cooking again. Master Jason still avoids the Manor quiet often, after all.

"It is at least edible," Master Damian must mistake his silence as refusal, "And I learn quick."

"Yes," Alfred reassures the boy, "I am aware. Let's have you start with dishes, shall we?"

Master Damian's lip quirks to the side, small and so very familiar, and rolls up his sleeves.

Yes, this will do. Alfred smiles back, turning around to work on tonight's dinner.

Now, how much to reveal?

===

Steph watches the newest baby Wayne scrutinize Dick's somersault with the kind of concentration of a life and death threat.

It's impressive and at once entirely so sad that Damian executes a perfect somersault two tries later.

Once to get the feel. Twice to adjust.

Genius? Or training?

Steph doesn't really want to know.

It's the 16th item on the list that Damian has excelled at within the first five tries. Steph wants so badly for this little baby to let loose. He's been here for a couple months and he still thinks his stay is temporary.

As if Bruce would let his babiest bat go back to that asshole Ra's.

Talia might be cool, Steph doesn't know. Damian sure loves her, just from the scant sentences he's said about her. But sometimes love just…isn't enough.

Damian does a perfect one handed handstand, twirling around just like Dick did and stepping delicate down, and eyeing the tightrope Duke and Steph had set up for him to try. There's a unicycle somewhere in the gym, they just have to find it.

"Does this spark joy?" Damian tilts his head, from where he's perfectly balanced on the stupid unicycle and looking way too smug about it.

"It does not." He finally answers, dismounting with boring aplomb.

The next hobby is skateboarding—Tim shows Damian how to do an ollie, once the kid has the hang of standing on the board.

It is a special kind of delight to watch a trained-from-basically-birth assassin eat shit on a skateboard.

A pencil is tossed unerringly at her forehead whilst she loses breath laughing, and you know what?

It's totally worth it, especially when it devolves quickly into an office supply version of a food fight between the five of them.

They try new hobbies, and each time, Steph asks "Does it spark joy?"

And each time Damian considers, before he answers very seriously, "It does not."

Steph's gotta admit, the sincerity is what does it for her.

By the end of it, Steph loses the bet, but it doesnt matter.

Babybat'll fit in fine.

===

Duke comes down to breakfast and immediately realizes something is wrong.

Damian has been in the Manor for a while now, and it's been routine for Duke to see him making breakfast with Alfred every Tuesday and Wednesday.

Today is Friday, and Damian is at the stove, alone.

"Hey, little dude." Duke cautiously greets, "Where's Alfie?"

"Pennyworth went to fetch more eggs." Damian doesn't turn around, but he answers, and that's all Duke can really ask for. "Someone had used it up last night, without permission."

Duke whistles. "Enough of them to warrant an emergency shopping trip?" Alfie usually keeps a burden's amount of eggs in the fridge always stocked up.

"Brown and Grayson," Damian carefully says, smirking over his shoulder and obviously trying not to laugh, "decided they wanted pancakes."

"Oh my god." Duke laughs, already seeing disaster and trying to keep it all in to ask his question, "What—what did they do?"

"Apparently," Damian drags out, "They thought that eggs and flour was enough to make the batter."

Damian comes to the table, placing a perfect plate of sunny side up eggs, bacon, and hash in front of Duke.

"Needless to say, they made almost two kilos of pasta instead." He places the second plate at the head of the table. "They tried to fry some of it anyway, and ruined two pans before they realized that perhaps, maybe, pancake batter should look a little more…liquid."

By the time Damian has his own plate sitting across from Duke, he can't breathe from how hard he's laughing.

Bruce walks in, and they no doubt paint a peculiar picture: Damian, smirking and daintily eating his eggs. And Duke, curled over the table and trying to recover and succeeding at a snail's pace.

"Good morning Father." Damian primly greets.

"Good morning, sweetheart." Bruce's voice is confused, but amiable. He carefully picks his way to his spot and compliments Damian on breakfast, who nods in satisfaction.

"Duke, are you alright son?" Bruce asks, when Duke can finally straighten up take one deep breath.

"He'll be fine, Father." Damian waves his fork, "On an unrelated note, would you perhaps be opposed to pasta for lunch?"

Duke fucking loses it.

===

"Well?" Damian sits himself down delicately, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, expectantly.

They're down in the Cave, sitting across from each other at the round table in the main area, side by side.

Tim rolls his eyes, fine. No pleasantries then. "Are you considering joining the family business?"

Damian tilts his head, puppy-like, not that he'll ever say that to his face. "Which one?"

And that's a fair point. "Either. Any."

Damian purses his lips, in the same exact way Bruce does, thinking. "I am undecided. Why?"

"I was thinking that it was time for me to start making moves to…" Tim wants to be delicate here, considering the history Damian has, "…well, move on."

"Be more clear, Drake." And wow, the way Damian furrows his brow in annoyance is identical to Jason, "Use your words."

Tim huffs. "Robin, Demon Brat." Tim enunciates his words, trying not to smile at the way Damian perks up. "I want to retire."

Damian eyes him mistrustfully, darting from Tim's coffee cup, to his tablet, even to the BatComputer where Tim has a DNA sample running. "…I highly doubt that."

"UGH," Tim groans, "I want to rebrand, so I'm giving you the Robin domino or whatever."

"The Robin mantle must be earned," Damian puffs up like an irate Pomeranian, making Tim laugh for more reasons than one.

"I already retired once." Tim informs him, "Steph was Robin for a hot minute, making her own suit from a Halloween costume."

"She what." Damian's voice is dangerous, but Tim flaps a hand. He can blow steam as much as he wants, he's the baby of the family and despite it all Tim's 87% sure Damian wouldn't hurt a fly.

…Maybe a solid 66%. He'll have to run the numbers.

"She gave it up to be Spoiler real quick," Tim continues, "And then some shit happened, and though he wasn't officially a Robin, Duke was part of the We Are Robin movement."

Damian fumes in silence, which shouldn't be funny, but is.

"In other words, Demon Brat," Tim smirks, "Lots of people have been Robin. And if you don't take it now, well…who's to say someone else won't just…make their own costume?"

Tim waits out Damian's breathing exercises, patient and frankly, uncaring. He fiddles on his tablet, sips at his coffee, considers new vigilante names. With Dick now acting as Nightwing, the transition to Young Justice won't be as confusing even if he did join up as Robin, but Tim would rather not.

Just thinking about the mistaken identity issues with Dick's romantic history is already giving him nightmares. Slim as the chances are, with their builds being so different, but Tim just doesn't want to take that chance.

"Fine." Damian finally says, "I concede. When will training start?"

Tim scoffs. "You're League trained, so you'll just be shadowing for protocol. There's a manual somewhere that Bruce made, but we mostly treat it as a guideline. The Batkids have their own that they update, and you already have access to that on your tablet." Tim gives him a look. "Tell me you need access."

Damian wisely stays silent. Tim remembers that the League isn't really attuned to the intricacies of hacking and coding, but Damian has had no trouble snooping through the system from what Tim has seen. He wonders if the League just got upgraded since Cass got trained, or if Damian is self taught. It doesn't matter.

"Right. Well, Dick said he'll take you on a mission whenever your schedule is open, and you can shadow me on my current patrol, move around. You won't be able to patrol on your own for a while but—"

"What will be your new name?" Damian interrupts, eyebrow raised. Curious.

"Oh—uh. I haven't thought about it." Tim stutters. He didn't expect Damian to ask—

"Liar." Damian accuses, squinting at him.

Tim sighs. "I dunno, Red Robin?"

"That's a terrible name." Damian's nose scrunches. "A stupid name, even."

"Wha—it is not!" Tim slams his tablet down. Damian's eyes suddenly go wide, horror dripping through his tone.

"Drake—tell me you did not simply combine Red Hood and Robin."

Tim stays absolutely fucking silent, grabbing his coffee to keep his mouth occupied.

"Drake, I implore you to be better than this." Damian slaps a hand over his face, which is rude.

"Hey! That is—that is just uncalled for—" Tim pulls his cup down, almost spilling it. He swears, but Damian pays no heed to him.

"I knew you were a fan of Todd's Robin, but this cannot go on. Did you expect me to graduate and become Green Robin?"

"No! That's stupid, there's not such thing as a green robin—"

"There's no such thing as a red robin either! Unless you wish to be named after a subpar restaurant." Damian throws his hands up.

"You've never even been to a Red Robin!" Tim sputters, and tries to get a handle on the situation.

He fails.

"You have at least sixteen unique aliases with full on back stories that you successfully keep track of and disguise yourself into, and you cannot do any better than Red Robin?" Damian says, loudly, over his protests and effectively silencing him,

Tim opens his mouth, closes it. Shuts his eyes. Grumbles. "Well I'd like to see you come up with a better name…"

"Cardinal." Damian gets up, stalking towards the secret entrance, clearly done with this conversation. "I cannot fathom how little sense you have. Ridiculous."

And well. Tim hates to say it, but Cardinal is much better than Red Robin.

Gods damn it.

===

"I will name her Batcow." Dick refuses to coo. Damian is covered in blood and wielding a sword, this is not cute behavior!

How did this happen? This was their first mission. It was supposed to be easy. Tomorrow, Tim was going to take him out on patrols. The weekend after that, Jaybird was going to take him paintballing. Steph and Duke were going to teach him how to prank people harmlessly. This was supposed to be nice, easy Robin bonding!

"That's nice, baby bird." Dick tries to placate, "We can shuffle her with the other cows to their new home—"

"Nightwing," Damian's voice brokers no argument, "I have claimed her."

Dick has to wonder if he was as much of a menace when he was this age. He wasn't, surely. Sure, he got Ace in an unconventional way, but Ace was practically made for hero-ing.

Not to mention Ace was a dog.

"It's great that you want a pet," Dick tries again, "But how about we start with a dog first? Maybe a cat?"

Damian thinks on that a bit, before nodding. Dick sighs a great sigh of relief.

"I would like one of each." Wait. What? No. Nononono—

Cackling echoes in the comms, the hysterics of Steph and Jaybird loud and guffawing in his ear.

"Stop laughing and help me." Dick hisses into the comms as Damian starts flicks the blood of his sword.

"I used to put him in, in air jail." Jaybird says through gulps of air, "Y'know, pick him up wh-hen he was acting n-naughty."

"That isn't exactly applicable here, Hood!" Dick grits through his teeth, causing Steph to shriek in high pitched laughter.

"We will have to take the jet," Damian interrupts, "Batcow will not fit on our motorcycles."

"No, Robin—we, uhm. We don't have room for a cow at home—" Dick wants to tear his hair out. He's too young for this, surely.

Heedless of his words, Damian starts to gently lead the cow towards him, raising a single eyebrow.

"Okay, well. We do have room, but that doesn't mean—"

"Nightwing. Robin." Dick has never been more glad to hear Bruce's voice, "Leave the cow with the proper authorities and report back to the Cave."

"Father," Damian's voice suddenly changes, "I would like to take Batcow home."

"…Robin," Bruce starts, but is summarily interrupted.

"Father, you have missed twelve of my birthdays." Damian's voice goes wobbly, despite Dick physically seeing that his face is stone cold, "And I have not once received a gift."

There's a long silence, and Dick slumps. What the fuck do you even say to that?

"…The jet will pick you up in 3 minutes."

"And the dog and cat?" Damian's voice is smug.

Dick sighs. "I'll take you to the shelter tomorrow."

The comms peak, from the sheer volume of Jay and Steph's mocking laughter.

===

Bruce enters his study with a tablet in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other. 

It's been a long day.

He’s tired, preoccupied with thoughts of Damian starting school soon. The rest of his children seem to be causing some kind of trouble trying to celebrate it in their own way, and it's giving Bruce a minor headache about it.

Talia's continuous demands of pictures and actual reports is both heartwarming and excessive, but Bruce can hardly blame her.

His eyes should be scanning through the documents that Lucius sent over this morning and is still awaiting approval for. 

What his eyes catch on instead is a new addition to his Gray Ghost shelf. 

It’s an action figure of the eponymous hero, one in almost pristine condition. A first edition. 

Inside the cloche with the Gray Ghost gun is a miniature version resting just beside it. The RC car also has a miniature version perched next to its front wheel. Between the trilby and the goggles lay two hands and a miniature case of the first DVD release.

He tilts his head, feeling his eyebrow raise and a smile crawl up as he picks up the action figure to inspect it. It looks old, but clean. Not quite used, but not sitting on a shelf either—there’s little knicks here or there. Perhaps found in a garage sale somewhere? It’s not even his birthday—still, the gift warms his heart as anything involving his children does.

Now, which one of his kids did this, he wonders?

No matter, he’ll find out soon enough. His children are terrible at keeping secrets, and he isn't Batman for nothing.

He places the figure gently back down in its place, and settles in for the long haul.

===

Talia sits, straight backed with her legs crossed in a highly uncomfortable chair.

Next to her, her Beloved looks lovely in his turtle neck and slacks, comfy, even.

She looks around the room, noting the whiteboard and assortment of small desks behind them,

There are motivation posters, and informational ones with equations listed upon them.

Talia refrains from scoffing, but really, what is the point of putting the answer up on the wall? How will they learn if they have such a crutch?

"Now," The portly man sitting across from them behind a large desk coughs to clear their throat, "Damian has shown high intelligence, his grades are top of the class and he has shown such high promise that the other teachers and I have discussed whether or not it would be beneficial for him to move up grades."

"I believe the principal and I already had this conversation, Mr. Porter." Bruce smiles, but it isn't the nice one, "Dami has always been a smart boy, but he was home-schooled, and we were more concerned about his socialization."

"Ah, yes. Well. The girls in the class seem to find him charming, albeit stoic. He is gentlemanly for his age, and doesn't really participate in…" Mr. Porter coughs once more.

Talia rolls her eyes. "In idle immaturity?"

"Well, yes. It's just—well," Mr. Porter tugs at his collar, "It's just boys being boys really."

"Has he made any friends? Of either gender?" Bruce asks, giving Talia a warning look. She shrugs, putting on her best innocent smile.

"Oh! Yes, one boy, Colin Wikes." Mr. Porter takes out a handkerchief to wipe his brow, "They seem to get along, in their own quiet way."

"That's lovely!" Talia's voice goes high, fake. Bruce winces, but she ignores him, "So his grades are up, he's made a friend, and overall he's popular with the ladies!"

"W-well, yes, but the other boys—"

"Now, now. Bruce is a lady-killer himself, and he managed to figure out male friendships eventually!" Talia simpers,"He had such a close friendship with Harvey Dent after all, before that whole...fiasco."

Bruce sighs, but again, Talia ignores him. "Now, I hear that my son has a talent in art? I see that none of them are hung up—"

This is very important business after all.

No-one can stop her from achieving her mission.

===

Jason opens his door carefully, quietly.

His traps have been disabled and reset, and Jason can only think of two people who would do that.

Both of them came from the League, and both of them don't take kindly to being startled.

He drops his work bag, the one for his mechanic's job, down in the entrance way. He takes of his heavy boots and treads silently through the apartment to find out which sibling came to visit.

He's greeted by Damian, asleep on his couch with an open and currently in danger of falling copy of Pride and Prejudice.

Jason quickly tiptoes over, grabs the book before it can fall to the ground, grabbing the kid's bookmark—a pressed flower that Cass made for him—and placing it to the side.

The fact that the kid hasn't woken up is testament to their time in the League.

Jason's been getting bits and pieces back, ever since he got shot and saw double vision of Damian and a younger version of the kid administering first aid to him.

Talk about shock therapy.

It's not all that pleasant, the memories.

He remembers the grueling training, the pain and anguish and fear of not remembering. Not knowing who he was, knowing Robin was important, not knowing what to do.

But not all of them are bad.

He remembers forcing Damian to brush his teeth for longer than 2 minutes, remembers tucking the tyke in with the bear, even the figure.

He remembers various missions, where he would pick up Damian and carry him to the nearest food stand to make him try an assortment of street foods with a series of flailing movements. Remembers the feeling of accomplishment and pride whenever the little guy would express it was adequate, because that was as good as a 5 star rating.

He remembers carrying him, hastily packed duffle bag and all, and thinking Gotham, Gotham is the safest place to be but not knowing why.

Mostly he remembers watching Damian sleep, peacefully, like he is now.

Because it's novel, then and now, how Damian trusts him enough to do it.

He sits himself down for a moment, always a little woozy when memories come surfacing up, breathing deep and leaning back. It's getting easier to remember, and Leslie had said it would stop eventually, so he weathers it out.

A second later, something warm thumps into his lap.

Damian has his head there, hands fisted like kitten's paws, curling up like a little ball.

Jason sees double, triple, memories and memories of watching this boy sleep and feeling honored and responsible and attached to him.

Brothers in arms, Talia had said, back when he wasn't quite himself, but wasn't Damian's Robin anymore either. You have a brother—

Jason had cut her off then, yelling that no replacement could ever be his brother.

He had eaten his words then, and he's eating them now too.

He lays a hand on Damian's back, rubs up and down his tiny shoulder blades, the way Bruce did when he was first adopted.

Brothers indeed.

He shuts his eyes, just for a moment, to breathe in the peace.

He falls asleep like that, dreaming of teddy bears and robins, and deadly, deadly assassins.

some jasons and damians thats been piling up :]

(and tim and alfred the cat)

[oldsoul007]

kiss me

nicholas chavez x reader

summary: is it a coincidence that nicholas and y/n keep running into each other during the busiest time of the year

a/n: I know it’s unrealistic, just let me live

Nicholas and I’s first encounter in New York during Christmas was anything but a meet-cute.

The city was buzzing with festive energy, lights twinkling everywhere, and crowds bustling about. I was juggling a bunch of shopping bags and a hot chocolate, trying to navigate through the sea of people at Rockefeller Center. Suddenly, I collided with a guy carrying a huge Christmas tree.

My hot chocolate went flying, splashing all over his coat, and my bags scattered across the pavement. His tree toppled over, almost hitting a group of carolers. We both stood there, stunned and embarrassed. I quickly started picking up my bags, apologizing profusely. "I'm so sorry!" I said, glancing at the mess and his stained coat.

He bent down to help, saying, "No, it's my fault. I wasn't looking where I was going." Our hands brushed as we reached for the same bag, and we both laughed awkwardly. Despite the chaos, there was this brief, inexplicable connection. We exchanged a few more apologies and a sheepish smile before parting ways, thinking it was just a random, albeit memorable, mishap in the vast city.

Little did I know, this was just the beginning of a series of serendipitous encounters that would bring us together again and again.

The very next day, I found themselves wandering through a bustling holiday market in New York City. The air was crisp, filled with the scent of roasted chestnuts and hot cocoa. The market was alive with twinkling lights and the sounds of cheerful chatter.

As I browsed a booth filled with handmade ornaments, I felt a familiar presence beside me. Taking a double look. Turning, I was surprised to see Nicholas standing there, examining a snow globe.

"Hey, fancy seeing you here," I said joking with a smile, her breath visible in the cold air.

Nicholas looked up, equally surprised. "Y/n! What are the odds? It's funny, considering how big New York is."

We both laughed, the coincidence of bumping into each other two days in a row in such a big city not lost on us. "I guess fate has a funny way of bringing people together," I joked, my eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Yeah, or maybe New York isn't as big as we think," Nicholas replied, giving me a playful nudge. We continued to explore the market together, the unexpected encounter adding a touch of magic to our day.

The rink was a magical scene, twinkling with fairy lights and filled with couples gliding gracefully on the ice. Nicholas, who was still a bit clumsy on skates, stumbled right into y/n, who was gracefully skating by. They both tumbled onto the ice in a heap of giggles and apologies.

As we sat on the cold ice, catching our breath and trying to regain our composure, Nicholas joked, "Okay, this is getting ridiculous. Maybe the universe is trying to tell us something." My cheeks flushed from the cold and laughter, I replied, "You know, you might be right. How many times can you run into the same person in New York during Christmas? Well I might think you’re stalking me!”

We decided to take a break from skating and warm up with a cup of hot cocoa from a nearby vendor. Sitting at a small table, surrounded by the festive ambiance of the rink, we started talking and found ourselves lost in conversation. We shared stories of their holiday plans, our favorite Christmas traditions, and laughed over the series of mishaps that had brought us together.

By the end of the night, Nicholas looked at me and said with a smile, "So, what do you say we stop leaving it to chance and actually plan to meet up?" I grinned back, "i don’t know…."

Despite the festive lights and cheerful atmosphere, y/ seemed hesitant whenever Nicholas brought up the idea of spending more time together.

"We've bumped into each other so many times lately. It's like the universe is trying to tell us something."

I smiled but remained cautious. "I don't know, Nicholas. It's just... things are really busy right now."

Nicholas nodded, understanding my reluctance. "I get it. But how about this? Let's make a deal. I'll take you to the best hidden spots in New York, places only locals know about, and in return, you give me one evening to show you the magic of Christmas in the city."

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued but still unsure. "And what if I don't have a good time?"

Nicholas grinned, confident but kind. "I appreciate the bluntness, but then I'll owe you a favor of your choice. No strings attached. But I promise you, you won't regret it."

After a moment of contemplation, my curiosity got the better of her. "Alright, Nicholas. You've got yourself a deal."

Nicholas's face lit up with excitement. "Great! I can't wait to show you a side of New York you've never seen before."

We exchanged numbers, feeling a warm sense of excitement and curiosity about what the future might hold.

Nicholas couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to do something special to show y/n how much he cared. So, one night, he picked up his phone and called her at 1am.

"Y/n, it's Nicholas. I know it's late, but I have a surprise for you. Can you meet me at Grand Central Station at 2am?"

Me, still groggy from sleep, hesitated for a moment but then agreed, my curiosity piqued. “Promise to not murder me though.”

When I arrived at the station, it was eerily quiet and completely empty. Nicholas was waiting for ‘e with a warm smile. "I wanted to show you something magical," he said, leading me inside.

We walked through the grand hall, and I looked up to see the constellations painted on the ceiling, glowing softly in the dim light. The vast space, usually bustling with people, was serene and peaceful.

"This is incredible, Nicholas," I whispered, taking in the beauty of the moment.

Nicholas nodded, his eyes twinkling. "I thought you might like it. Sometimes, the best moments happen when you least expect them."

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me. "Thank you for this. It's perfect."

We stood there together, under the stars, savoring the quiet magic of the night.

After our magical experience at Grand Central Station, Nicholas wasn't ready for the night to end. He turned to me with a mischievous grin. "How about we go somewhere else? I have another place in mind."

My curiosity was piqued. "Alright, lead the way."

I nodded eagerly, my curiosity piqued once again. We hopped into a cab, and Nicholas directed the driver to the American Museum of Natural History. Arriving at the museum, Nicholas led me to a side entrance where a friend of his worked as a night guard. With a wink and a nod, we were let inside.

The museum was eerily quiet and dimly lit, with the exhibits casting long shadows across the floor. Nicholas guided me through the halls, showing me the massive dinosaur skeletons and the serene dioramas of wildlife.

"This place is incredible at night," I whispered, my voice echoing softly.

We wandered through the exhibits, eventually finding ourselves in the planetarium. Nicholas led me to the center, where we lay down on the floor, looking up at the simulated night sky. The stars and planets above us created a mesmerizing view.

As we lay there, the peacefulness of the museum and the beauty of the stars above began to lull them into a state of relaxation. Nicholas turned to me and smiled. "I'm glad we came here."

I smiled back, feeling a deep sense of contentment. "Me too."

Slowly, we both drifted off to sleep, surrounded by the wonders of the museum and the tranquility of the night. It was a perfect end to our spontaneous adventure.

A few hours later, we were gently woken up by the night guard. "Hey, you two. It's almost morning. You should probably head out before the day staff arrives," he said with a chuckle.

I stretched and looked at Nicholas with a sleepy smile. "That was amazing. It felt like a first date, but even better."

Nicholas grinned. "Yeah, it was pretty incredible. But this wasn't our first date. How about I pick you up at 7 tonight, and we have an official one?"

My eyes lit up. "I'd love that."

We thanked the guard and made our way out of the museum, both excited for what the day would bring.

Nicholas picked me up at seven sharp, ready for our official date. We started with a cozy dinner at a charming little bistro, where we shared stories and laughed over delicious food. The chemistry between us was undeniable, and the evening flowed effortlessly.

After dinner, we wandered through the city, stopping by a street fair where we played games and won silly prizes for each other. The night was filled with fun and laughter, and as we walked hand in hand, it felt like we were the only two people in the world.

As we strolled through the park, the Christmas lights twinkled like stars, creating a cozy and magical atmosphere. Nicholas looked at me, his heart full. "These lights are amazing. They remind me of how magical the holiday season can be."

I smiled warmly. "Yeah, there's something special about this time of year. It makes everything feel a bit more magical."

Nicholas chuckled. "It's funny how we didn't know each other before, but it feels like we've known each other forever. I'm really glad we met."

I nodded, my eyes reflecting the lights. "Me too. Sometimes the best connections happen unexpectedly."

Nicholas gently squeezed my hand. "Absolutely. Tonight has been incredible, and I can't wait to see where this goes."

We continued our walk, sharing stories and dreams, feeling a deeper connection with each step. The night was filled with warmth, laughter, and the promise of new beginnings.

Finally, we found a quiet spot in a nearby park, where the city lights twinkled around us. Nicholas turned to me, his eyes full of warmth. "I had an amazing time tonight."

I smiled, feeling a flutter in my heart. "Me too. It was perfect."

Nicholas leaned in slowly, and our lips met in a gentle, lingering kiss. It was the perfect end to a magical night, leaving us both looking wanting more.

[letsquestjess]

The Bad Batch and Crushes (TBB x GN!Reader)

Summary: The Batch have a crush on you, and want to tell you how they feel.

Warnings: None.

-- -- -- -- --

Hunter

Hunter gets fussy when he develops a crush, even more so than when he is around his siblings. Throughout the day, he will check up on you, asking if you need anything, if you slept well, and find any excuse to be in your presence. You often chuckle at his worrying of you, and you assure him you’re fine, but the one time you gently lay your hand on his arm while reassuring him, his heart skips a beat and he freezes. You’re a little too busy to notice, but Hunter is having a profound moment of realisation. He has a crush on you and there is nothing he can do to change it. 

The situation had come to a point where he wished to get everything out in the open, but he wasn’t sure. You were fleeing the Empire, and it wasn’t exactly the most opportune moment for any kind of romantic involvement. However, the more he considered the circumstances, the more he understood there may never be a perfect moment. He resolved to tell you when you were next alone. It took several weeks before the opportunity arose, when the team made repairs outside the ship and the two of you were tasked with monitoring the cockpit readings and ensuring that none of the levels ventured into dangerous territory. Despite his doubts and nervousness urging him to reconsider, he overcame them and began the conversation as smoothly as he could. As he relaxed, talk flowed, and he shared some amusing remarks he knew would make you smile. When he confessed his crush, he anxiously observed your reaction, hoping you wouldn’t pull away or reject him. Much to his relief and surprise, you confessed you felt the same way and had secretly wondered how long it would take for him to realise your affection for him. 

Echo

Echo has had crushes on others in the past, particularly during his early days as an ARC trooper, but what he feels for you is more than just a crush. He always manages to bring a smile to your face and ensures you have a drink and regular meals. He takes to sharing things with you he knows will make you happy, such as books, holo-movies, and artwork that reminds him of you. 

While you were assisting him with the dishes after dinner one evening, he inquired if you had eaten enough and offered to make you a dessert if you wanted some. He rambled a little, asking if you’d had enough to drink and if there was something specific that you might like. Jokingly, you remarked that with how attentive he was, anybody would think he had a crush on you. He posed the question of how you would respond if he told you he did, speaking hypothetically, of course, but his serious tone suggested this was anything but speculative. You were caught off guard because you’ve been interested in Echo for quite some time. Assuming your silence meant rejection, he kindly reassured you that there was no pressure to respond. He couldn’t understand why he said what he did... and then you confessed your feelings for him as well. He made an attempt at three different sentences, each one faltering as his mind caught up with what you had said. When it finally sank in, he made sure you were certain. Without a single second of hesitation, you gave him a bashful nod and the two of you spent the rest of the evening discussing your feelings and making the decision to embark on a relationship.

Wrecker

Wrecker does not do subtlety. He tries, but it’s just not in his nature. He enjoys being near you and despite the teasing from his brothers, he will happily take any chance to assist you, all while making you laugh until your sides hurt. His only desire is to see you smile. He is interested in a relationship with you, and has often wondered what it would be like, but he is unsure about your wishes in that area and is afraid of making you uncomfortable.

There came a time when you began to notice what was going on. You suspected Wrecker’s crush on you, Crosshair and Hunter had both confirmed as much, but you wanted to hear it from the man himself. In truth, you also liked him, and you couldn’t keep evading the subject. You made sure that you were both alone before you asked him if he might have a crush on you. Despite feeling sheepish, he was completely honest and admitted that he did. Before you could respond, he hurriedly reassured you it was all right if you didn’t feel the same way and that he valued your friendship above any romantic feelings he might have. Seeing the sweet relief on his face upon learning that you felt the same way about him, you couldn’t help but pull him into a tight embrace. A true romantic at heart, Wrecker instantly squeezed you back and nuzzled against your hair. Get ready for the most enchanting relationship you’ve ever experienced, because all he wants to do now is fill every single one of your days with love.

Crosshair

This man despises having a crush. It’s not just about the uncertainty of the other person reciprocating his feelings, but also about his own internal struggle. He convinces himself that you will never feel the same, that he is not suitable for you, that you deserve someone better, and he starts to spiral. 

It was definitely a surprise when he suddenly revealed his feelings. Following an extended period on the ship, you both decided to take a walk, wandering in complete silence. He was often quiet, but not to this extent. You checked he was okay, and the words poured out of him with no restraint. Before allowing any more negative thoughts to persuade him he had no chance with you, he had to remove them from his mind and get a clear answer. Despite being taken aback by the confession, you reassured him you shared the same feelings, but hesitated to say anything before because you were unsure about his feelings. The slight chuckle he gave you was raspy and low, but it was so wonderfully him you couldn’t help but smile. After spending the evening by a crystal-clear river, the two of you decided to take your budding relationship one step at a time and venture into that unknown together.

Tech

Tech doesn’t really notice his feelings for you until one specific moment, when you are assisting him with a project and make him laugh with a clever comment. It’s like a light switch goes on in his head and every thought is occupied by you. He attempts to focus on the amusing tale you’re sharing, but he finds himself captivated by the way your lips move and the subtle gestures you make while speaking, and he desperately needs to hold you. Damn, he wants this feeling forever. 

He kept it locked away for a long while. It was not practical and could jeopardise your safety. He was a fugitive clone evading the Empire, his situation couldn’t have been more dangerous. However, he had a genuine affection for you. You provided him with a sense of security, and he felt desired and cherished, all those extraordinary things those cheesy holo-novels spoke of. One night, while engrossed in his latest project, he confessed everything, using his tinkering as a distraction to prevent himself from retracting the words he wanted to express. After he finished speaking, a quietness descended upon both of you, and he questioned aloud whether pursuing a relationship would truly be the wisest choice given your circumstances, even if you felt the same way. As you moved closer, asking him what he would say if you said yes, he caved. He wanted to be with you, and he was unwilling to deny you both a chance at happiness for the sake of practicality. 

[lieslab]

Paris twilight

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin X fem reader

Summary: A joint Versace event leads to a memorable night in Paris.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2.2K

A/N: This was a request from like over a month ago, so here it finally is. I made this super fluffy and kinda sicky sweet compare to what I usually write, so I hope you enjoy it!!

_ _ _

“Look over here! Over here!”

“And this way!” 

“Give us big smiles!” 

You’d never get used to it, at least, you didn’t think you would. Your head swiveled back and forth and the smile you wore grew brighter. Cameras flashed like stars and no matter how much you tried to ignore it, you couldn’t. 

The bright lights made it hard to see, but you had a job to do. Instead of sulking or complaining, your head remained upright. Your spine straightened and you waved out at the paparazzi lining the carpet. 

Further down the way, Hyunjin was doing his own thing in the custom outfit that Donatella made for him. It was a never-before seen thing, one that his company hesitated to agree to, but Hyunjin assured them that he was comfortable with it. 

The sheer golden shirt left nothing to the imagination and it glittered in the camera light. Tucked smoothly into black pants with a matching fierce eyeliner, it was unlike anything he ever did before. His siren eyes scanned the cameras and he shifted and posed again. 

You were in an outfit that you weren’t sure you liked at first. The black dress hung down to your mid-thighs. It was tight against your form and golden chains were used as straps. They hung loose off the sides of your shoulders and strung up along the front of your chest. They shrouded you in glistening gold to make you sparkle like a star. 

You were in gold highlighter and a matching eyeliner. Just as Hyunjin’s pants matched your dress, your makeup, jewelry, and dress straps and harness complimented his look. Donatella had purposefully coordinated the outfits to go together and the media was going to eat it up. 

You could already imagine the buzz of rumors from Dispatch. You and Hyunjin had already been questioned about your relationship before, but you always played it off as business. 

A photo of you together was taken at a cafe three months ago. You were laughing at something Hyunjin said and you were entirely unaware of the sasaeng that watched the two of you go into the building together. 

Another photo was leaked to the media only a few weeks later. Hyunjin and you were talking while consuming sushi. In the photo, he was bent over the table on his elbows. His chopsticks were posed to take a piece of sushi off your plate. 

It was somewhat true. You two had indeed been going to places because you were discussing work. You had your own thing and Hyunjin had his music. That first photo of the two of you taken together changed your life entirely. 

When Hyunjin was questioned by Donatella herself on your identity, he tried to play it off. Just work buddies. Just good friends. However, the further she pressed, the weaker he grew. How could he lie to Donatella? She gave him so much, so he caved. 

After a few meetings and measurement intakes, you were set to be Hyunjin’s plus one at her latest event. Donatella was thrilled the moment she laid her eyes on you. She had dreams of turning you into a Versace star. Whatever Donatella wanted, Donatella got it one way or another. 

You and Hyunjin tried to keep your romantic relationship hidden, but the moment that Dontella shared a back scene photo of the two of you smiling at each other and captioned it ‘Versace royalty,’ you were both screwed.

The secret was unraveling, fans were speculating, more outrageous rumors were brewing, so this was the night you were both set to come clean. Your heart had been beating a hundred miles a minute since you stepped out of the car. Hyunjin walked ahead and you followed after him, hoping the layer of makeup hid your blush. 

After bypassing security, you hit the carpet. The stars couldn’t get into the event without clearing the carpet first. Other guests could easily avoid it, but not you two. Donatella had made it very clear that she wanted you two to show off your outfits. Her team put in so much time and she didn’t want it to go to waste. 

“Are you ready?” Hyunjin mumbled as he stepped closer to you. His body was still as warm as you remembered. So many cameras and yet he was acting like this was no big deal. 

All you could do was nod. Your eyes found the ground and you blinked a few times. There were so many cameras and your vision was starting to flicker. A headache was threatening to break at any moment. You’d hate to sit through the event feeling miserable. 

He reached out and gently grabbed your chin. His dark eyes meant yours and for a brief moment, the cameras stopped. The two of you had traveled here to Paris together. From the plane, to the hotel, to car rides, you had never been alone in this adventure. Hyunjin had been right beside you and reassured you the entire time. 

Paris was the city of love. This morning, the two of you walked a few blocks to a less busy cafe. You pointed out the architecture and awed over it. Brightly colored flowers spilled over some areas. Bakeries smelled like yeast, sugar, and freshly baked bread. 

The more you walked around the city, the more you fell in love with it all. You were probably knocked as tourists by the locals, but you didn’t care. Hyunjin and you walked side-by-side and pulled bread from a still warm baguette. 

You sipped lattes and talked about dreams. Hyunjin fell for Paris almost as much as he fell in love with you. A barat sat on his head and at one point, he wrapped his arms around yours. His warm breath recited some cheesy line from a romantic poem and caused your cheeks to warm. 

He laughed at your blush as he pulled away. “Look at you, you’re just so cute!” He gently nudged your cheek with the baguette and while you complained, that teasing grin never left his face. 

That was then and this was now. The two of you didn’t kiss on the city streets. There were too many people and you were already risking your relationship with being so handsy, but it didn’t really matter because it was going to be hard launched tonight. You dreaded this moment then, but as his soft lips met yours, your heart melted. 

He was as sweet as the french pastry you had for dessert after your lunch. Your lips moved against him and the crowd gasped all at once. In the distance, someone shrieked and the camera shutters flickered faster. 

Hyunjin pulled away with a half-smirk. Beneath the lights, your pupils were dazed and your lips had slightly parted. He was away, but you still craved him desperately. You wanted more and as much as you would have loved to grab his face and kiss him again, you had a professional obligation to uphold. 

Hyunjin’s hand grabbed yours and with his other, he waved to the crowd. Your flushed cheeks stayed put as your hand gripped his tighter. All you could do was smile as he tugged you towards the event. 

You were breathless, joyous, and most importantly, you were in love. It striked your heart like a roaring match. It echoed in your ears with the pulsing of your blood. Butterflies brushed against your stomach and beneath the dwindling sunlight, it felt just how love should. 

_ _ _ 

You couldn’t remember much of the event a few hours later. Your mind was too busy focusing on Hyunjin. From the way he looked beneath the sheer top to the lights illuminating the happiness in his eyes. You wanted to photograph this photo and keep it safe forever. 

Donatella’s very own prince and princess, her Versace royalty. Hyunjin mentioned that she had more plans involving the two of you, but you didn’t mind. As long as you were with Hyunjin and he was okay with it, you were prepared for whatever she wanted from the two of you. It’s not often that someone with so much influence and inspiration catches not just one, but two muses. 

Out against an iron balcony, you sipped your glass of champagne alone. Hyunjin slipped off to go talk to a few people and he offered to bring you along, but you wanted a moment to take a breather. 

The bathrooms were full of dazzling women. They complimented your dress and the way your hair hung. They applauded your golden gloss eyelids and the way you carried yourself with such confidence. Everyone wanted to be as radiant and put together as the Versace Princess herself. 

“Would you look at that? It seems the princess ran away from her prince.” Footsteps approached you from behind. An arm wrapped around your bare shoulders. “Looks like we’re going to have to fix that,” Hyunjin teased. 

“You left me first.” 

“I offered you a chance to come along.” 

“I know, but I wanted to catch a break. Besides, can you blame me? Look at this view.” Your arm gestured out into the dead of night. 

Inside, the afterparty was full of dancing bodies. The alcohol poured and loosened everyone up. Models and celebrities were sneaking bits of conversation while circling the snack table. Donatella was making her rounds and thanking people for showing up and helping her team. 

Multi-colored lights flickered and the music turned up. A dance floor was pushed off to the side. Hired staff served beverages and even more staff kept the snack bar flowing steadily. 

On the outside, it was just the two of you alone. Across the darkness, the Eiffel Tower stood covered in golden lights. It seemed so small from where you were, so it was hard to believe it was actually pretty large up close. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Hyunjin’s arms wrapped around your torso. His chin found a perch against the crook of your neck. “The Eiffel Tower is stunning at night, but it’s not as dazzling as you.” 

“Could you get any cheesier?” You playfully swatted his arm. “You’ve got to be kidding. That thing is amazing and it puts me to shame. Look at all the glittering lights. They look a lot like stars.” 

“It doesn’t make up even a fourth of your beauty and I can prove it.” 

“Hyunjin, I-” You yelped. He pushed you back and an arm moved to support you from behind. One of your heels raised in the air as he bent you down in a dip. His lips pressed against yours and he held you against his body. 

Your fingers curled weakly against your wine glass. You struggled to keep it upright as you kissed him back. Beneath the blanketing darkness of Paris, you had never felt so alive. Every nerve inside your body vibrated with glee. 

You smiled into the kiss and no matter how hard you tried to stop, you simply couldn’t. The muscles of your face had a mind of their own. You were being dipped down by the love of your life and then- 

Click! 

Hyunjin’s face pulled away from yours instantly. He glanced over his shoulder to find Donatella standing in the doorway of the balcony. He quickly pulled you upright onto your feet and tried to stutter out an explanation, but she held up a hand to stop him. 

Her cell phone sat in her other hand and a smile spread across her face. “I came to say thank you for being my prince and princess, but I wasn’t aware that you were preoccupied with romantic affairs.” 

Your brain was screaming at you. How could you be so stupid? She knew you were together, but this was an afterparty for such a grand event. The two of you weren’t supposed to be snogging on the balcony. 

“I’m sorry, I-” 

“Don’t apologize, look at this!” She turned her phone to show you the photo she took of you kissing. The flash illuminated your bodies pressed against each other. It captured everything from your smile against Hyunjin’s lips to the way the Eiffel Tower posed perfectly in the background. 

“Can I post this on my Instagram?” Her eyes darted back and forth between the two of you. Her lips pressed together and she lightly bounced with excitement. 

Hyunjin glanced at you and you nodded. The two of you finally agreed and she squealed. Before you knew it, she rushed forward. Floral perfume embraced the two of you as she threw her arms over your bodies. 

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! My Versace Prince and Princess!” She squealed and pulled away. “Ugh, I love it so much! I’ve gotta go show this to my team. I can’t wait to work with this!” 

There wasn’t time to say anything as she rushed back into the afterparty. You and Hyunjin shared a glance and he shrugged. “So before that happened, I think we were in the middle of something.” 

“I believe we were.” 

He pulled the wine glass from your hand and placed it on a small nearby table. “So if you’ll just put that there, I think we can continue.” You hummed in agreement and wrapped your arms around his. 

In your head, Paris was now cemented in stone; it’d always be the city of love. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lina-linny @straykidsstanforeverandever @seungnishi @stellasays45

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

[atangledfate]

The general nodded his head to the Princess playing the diplomat seemed to suit him. He was absolutely emotionless the entire time even when threatened as subtle or not so subtle by the princess his features barely changed. He seemed to agree to her terms, it was a small victory but perhaps what they needed to keep this conflict from spiraling out of hand.

" Agreeable terms, and i trust your people won't do anything foolish in return... i want to resolve this peacefully as well princess. We both have orders and people to answer to. Let's try to keep a level head despite the tensions. "

He said in a calmer tone as his eyes turned as if someone was speaking to him off screen.

" If you'll excuse me i have to attend to other matters. But i'll keep this line open, for further communications. Don't hesitate to call should you require it... "

The screen blipped and went dark, though the line was open the communication went dark for now. Seemed the Princess was up against quite a skilled soldier, if only in his ability to keep his intentions hidden.

============================================

Lanolin knew it was a risk to involve the giant Wisp, but right now she was looking for advantages. The wisps had been there stalwart allies for awhile now. Her hope was that having such a powerful ally would force GUN to back off or think twice about any sort of hostility. Despite her anger at the situation and GUN as a whole. She didn't want this to blow up into a real fight.

" I know Belle... involving the Wisp has it's risks but we need a solid advantage. Right now if GUN decided to be hostile we'd get over run in seconds... even if sonic and Surge was here... they'd have to focus on the air ships. We need a solid deterrent she's our best shot..."

Though the burst of air nearly toppled her Lanolin was a big girl, and she managed to keep her feet on the ground. She reached down to help Belle back up only to have to jump back to avoid getting run over by surge! She reached out to Belle and pulled her back to her feet. Her eyes locked on the direction the two ran.

" I hope that's not a fight between those two, that's the last thing we need right now... and--- no i think she was chasing Sonic. Best case they are rushing to help someone... worst case they are in middle of a high speed battle against each other. Wish we had..."

She stopped as Miles came over the intercom talking to Sonic? She was confused more then ever. Was there first thoughts utterly backwards? Was Surge trying to Stop Sonic? Then it hit her like a ton of bricks! the reality of the situation turned dark real fast--- Sonic was the one about to attack GUN! because of what happened to Amy!

" He found out about Amy... this is bad, if Sonic starts a War between both sides it could spiral out of hand fast..."

By Sol, this Lupus was truly a tough one to read. Clearly reputation wasn't much of a concern either so there wasn't an ego to stroke. Perhaps if Blaze knew more about him she could be much more aggressive with negations or more cunning, though she didn't while she was sure he had a fair amount of information on her. There wasn't much she could do to even the playing field at this moment, though there was one thing she could do.

"Very well, though I expect your soldiers to act accordingly. If they attempt to become hostile or worse I expect you to reprimand them accordingly. I will be keep a VERY close eye on them as well as my allies." Blaze wasn't going to make threats of attacking, though she wasn't going to let GUN push anyone around on her watch. If they step out of line she expected the commander to reprimand them accordingly. "Another matter, if you see a chopper leaving then it isn't ours. There was an assailant who attempted to attack Commander Rose, a failed attempt." A lie, though best not reveal Amy was out of commission right now.

===========================================================

"I know, though she already seems annoyed. I'm just worried GUN might do something to make her mad." Belle could only guess the giant Wisp was reasonable, though it didn't seem int he best mood, though who would be after having an airship shooting at them. "Perhaps asking them just to keep watch is our best start." This way they can watch what's going on, though not be at risk of some stupid GUN soldier suddenly attacking and making them angry. "I'm just taking a guess as I know Wisps are peaceful by nature."

Belle didn't have the reflex's Lanolin did as the gust made her land right on her rear. The tinkerer getting up rather quickly. "Well, he didn't even stop to talk to you or me which isn't normal." The puppet was then knocked on her rear again as Surge pasted by leaving a faint trail of blue lightning before it faded. "Okay, there might be something to be worried about." She was worried about her starting a fight with GUN.

[lau219]

How would the boys react to reader sexting then during work?

Boys : Cillian, Modern Tommy, Emmett, Robert, and Jonathan

So, I went into way more detail with this than you were likely expecting, @an-eclectic-of-mass-destruction , so the answers are below the cut. 🤪💗😁

Cillian: If it’s the first time you’ve ever sexted him, he’d initially be pretty surprised, as he didn’t expect you to be so bold and forthcoming as to sext him. He’s very aroused and intrigued to see how far you’ll take it, and he encourages you with words of praise and sexy responses of his own as the two of you go back and forth, working each other up. When he eventually gets home, Cillian abandons anything else as he comes up behind you, pinning you against the counter as he presses his bulge into your ass as he speaks lowly in your ear.

“So, about those messages from earlier…I think we need to finish what you started, don’t you?”

Then, two words: wall sex

Modern Tommy: Absolutely loves it and immediately responds. He wastes no time on subtle innuendo, instead immediately going into graphic detail of exactly what he’s going to do to you and what he expects you to do to him. He delivers the dom talk and sexy threats throughout your entire exchange and warns you what you’re getting yourself into as you keep messaging. When he finally gets home, you know he’s arrived from hearing the slam of the door, and Tommy quickly discards his coat and picks you up, throwing you over his shoulder without a word and carrying you to the bedroom to act out every single text, and he’s not stopping until he has you screaming his name loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

Emmett: 110% into it and immediately replies with dirty messages of his own. Countless naughty images run through his head as you two go back and forth. Emmett loves to tease you, and he alternates between telling you how he’s going to make you melt and threatening not to give you what you want. You do the same back to him, switching between telling him just how naughty you’ll be for him and pretending to lose interest by acting nonchalant. You get each other heavily worked up to the point that he leaves work with a raging hard on and comes home to drag you upstairs and then proceeds to give you each what you need, but not without teasing you more first and keeping you just on the edge until you’re begging him to let you finish.

Robert: Initially, he’s shocked, incredibly turned on but also extremely flustered. Truthfully, he’s had numerous fantasies about the two of you introducing dirty talk, but he’s always been hesitant to broach the subject, feeling self-conscious and also not knowing how you’d react. When you send him a message telling him how badly you want him and that you’re touching yourself to thoughts of him, he doesn’t know how to respond at first, but eventually, he gets the nerve. He tells you he wants details, wanting you to elaborate on exactly what you’re doing to yourself and what you’re thinking about. Soon, his reserve is gone as you two keep exchanging dirty thought after dirty thought, and tells you he wants you ready for him when he gets home. When he arrives, he finds you waiting on the bed for him in the skimpiest lingerie he’s ever seen you in, and he immediately climbs over you on the bed, the two of you proceeding to have the hottest sex you’ve had yet.

Jonathan: While admittedly aroused by your messages, Jonathan doesn’t give you much back, as he doesn’t really see the point if the two of you can’t immediately act on it. When it comes to sex, he’s much more keen on actually delivering on the act rather than talk about it when you’re apart. He’d prefer to wait until you’re together again to get each other worked up. But once he’s home and he has you how he wants you, that’s when the words start flowing, as he describes every single thing about you that he finds beautiful and exactly how he wants to take you. For you, it’s almost too much when you’re face to face as he talks in that smooth, collected tone and keeps his eyes focused only on you. He gently torments you as he sees you’re much less bold now that you’re together, and he smiles to himself as he calmly removes your clothes.

“Suddenly at a loss for words now, are you?” he says as he has you on your back and slowly slips inside you. “Well, let’s see if you’re at least still capable of moaning.”

[iwasntstable]

𝗡.𝗦. | 𝗡𝗢𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝗧𝗢 𝗚𝗢 | 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗪𝗢 (ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ)

🗀 C:/PROJECTS/MYWORK/SERIES/NOWHERETOGO [projects] ﹂ [my-work] | in-progress | favourites 　﹂ all | [series] | one-shot | blurb | head-cannons 　　﹂ [nowhere-to-go]

Series Summary: You knew the decision to follow your father into the so-called 'most dangerous Ward' was a dangerous one, but you had to do anything and everything possible to keep him alive. He's the only family you have left. Growing evermore reckless after the death of your mother and blinded by his lust for retribution, this decision is one that will alter the course of your life forever. And the life of a half-ghoul half-human who never thought he'd find himself entangled with the daughter of a former CCG Investigator.

NOWHERE TO GO is a multi-chapter story set in the Tokyo Ghoul universe, centring around Half-Ghoul!Noah and Human!Reader.

Chapter Content Tags: Graphic depictions of gore including: treatment of wounds, administration of stitches, blood, mentions of bruising, mentions of an attack. Depictions of anxiety.

Word Count: 6k.

Note: please be aware this story is set in the universe of Tokyo Ghoul, before the events of the manga and anime. it will, however, contain references to content found in the source material. specific content warnings will always be applied at the beginning of each chapter.

✶ [join the NOWHERE TO GO taglist.] ⓘ [GLOSSARY]

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CREDIT › image — 'Tokyo Ghoul:re - Chapter 54' - 石田 スイ (Sui Ishida). › number divider — @saradika-graphics. › image edit — @iwasntstable (me). › star divider — @saradika-graphics. › short grey divider — @saradika-graphics. › Tokyo Ghoul — created by 石田 スイ (Sui Ishida).

“We just keep running into each other,” he smiles that same smile that made your heart skip a beat in the café, but instead of giving you butterflies, this time it fills you with dread.

You say nothing, words failing you entirely. All you can do is stare. His wide brown eyes inspect you back just as closely. How could it be him? The kind man from the bookstore café that encouraged you and asked your name—the same man who was now stained with blood and tried to kill your father twice. Noah.

His eyes flit to your arm, then back to your face. “You’re injured,” he states calmly. The reminder of the wound causing it to sting and throb under your clothes. You press your hand to it defensively, a weak spot you wanted to defend. “Let me help?” He offers, hands raised with palms facing you.

“Why would you do that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Once again, you’re lost for words. The answer to that question was so glaringly obvious, you almost couldn’t believe he asked it. “Look, I’ll call a friend here who’s better at stitching wounds than I am, and then you can leave. But in exchange, I’d like you to answer some of my questions.”

“Leave? You’re not… keeping me here?”

Confusion crosses his features. “What? No. I’m not kidnapping you or anything. You can leave whenever you want,” his expression softens. “You’re injured. I wasn’t just going to leave you bleeding in the street. I want to help, and I want to talk.” 

You mull over your options in your mind. There’s no way you could run, not with your current injuries, and fighting your way out without a weapon is out of the question too. He said you could leave, but you’re not sure if you believe that. What could a ghoul possibly stand to gain from letting a human live?

Noah notices your hesitation, opens the front door, and steps aside. “Go. This isn’t a trick. I’m not going to chase you down. I only want to help and ask you my questions. I’m sure you must have questions for me too.”

He was right. A million questions raced in your mind—so many you didn’t even know which to prioritise. And you didn’t know how much longer you could stay on your feet before your legs buckled again. “Okay,” you concede.

Noah nods, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’m going to text my friend, okay? He’ll be able to take a look at your arm. His name is Nick.” He pulls his phone from his pocket, no idea how it survived the skirmish in the alley. You eye it cautiously, that uneasy feeling in your bruised stomach telling you this was still some kind of trap. “Just one person,” Noah reassures. “Nobody else.”

You nod, though you have no way of knowing you could trust him, and he types out a message, slipping his phone away again once he’d hit send. He closes the front door again, leaving it unlocked, then crosses the room towards the couch with wide strides, pulling the plastic sheet from the furniture and screwing it into a ball to toss it into the corner. “Sit, if you’d like.”

You didn’t trust him, but you had to take your weight off your feet. You allow yourself to hold onto the back of the couch for support as you move around the couch, lowering yourself carefully, every fibre of your body protesting every miniscule movement. With the strain finally off your body, you feel immediate relief, but though you were sitting, your breath still felt laboured. Fatigue moved in like a dense fog.

“There’s no food here, but can I get you some water?” Noah asks, standing several paces away from you. You nod, too tired to speak and knowing refusing his offer would only serve to worsen your condition.

He moves to the kitchen, shedding his jacket and draping it over the back of a chair, those tattooed arms you’d noticed in the café on full display in his t-shirt. He opens a couple of cupboards before finally finding one with a glass inside. The kitchen was just as empty as the front room, a basic wooden table with two chairs, and a couple of appliances on the counters. He rinses the glass in the sink, then brings it full of water over to you, handing it over carefully. You try to stifle the tremor in your hand when you reach out to take it.

“Do you mind if I sit too?” He asked as you took a large mouthful.

His politeness confused you. Why was a creature so violent and dangerous being so courteous and respectful? You didn’t understand his motivations; what could he possibly stand to gain? Despite your doubts, you nod again, gesturing to the space beside you.

He takes the spot next to you, angled to face you. “Can I see your arm?” He asks.

With nothing to lose—except probably your life—you take another sip of the water, place the glass on the ground, and pop the buttons of your jacket with your good hand, shrugging the garment off and cautiously pulling it down your injured arm. As the fabric descends, it reveals your entire arm is stained red with blood right down to your fingertips. You’d assumed that was from the wounds on your hands.

The cut itself was long; you couldn’t see exactly how long from the angle, but it appeared to be around four inches in length, starting towards the front of your bicep and twisting downwards around the side towards your elbow. The deepest part was definitely at the centre of the wound; your arm did nothing to block the path of the ukaku ghouls’s shards as it sliced right through you like a hot knife to butter.

“It’s quite deep,” Noah said as he peered closer without touching. “I’d say I’m surprised you’re not more injured, but I’ve seen you fight,” he said, looking up, and his eyes met yours, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” You ask, dumbfounded. 

“Something like that,” he chuckled to himself, lowering his head. When he looks back up, his gaze lingers on your neck. “I’m sorry I let that guy grab you. I didn’t think he had anything left in him. That was my mistake.” He reaches out like he’s going to brush your hair away from your shoulder and get a closer look, but hesitates before he can touch you, pulling his hand back to his lap.

He seemed almost shy. A far cry from the monster that tore a man’s throat out with his teeth right in front of your eyes. You couldn’t deny the urge to trust him was growing. His tousled brown hair and respectful demeanour brought you right back to when you served him in the café, his soft laugh when you thanked him for ordering an easy coffee—the kind of person you’d be happy spending time with, someone you wanted to get to know better. But that image in your mind was swiftly replaced by the figure from your nightmare. His silhouette looming over you before he chooses whether you live or die. Despite his mask, he was still covered in blood.

A rapid knock on the door breaks your train of thought. Turning to look over your shoulder, a man with long, wavy, dark hair carrying a duffle bag steps into the apartment. Noah stands, approaching the man and patting him on the shoulder in a half embrace. “This is Nick. You have both met before,” Noah introduces his friend, stepping behind him to close the door.

“I don’t think I could forget,” he laughed. “You really carved me up on the bridge. I was limping all the way back.” The bikaku ghoul. 

You followed him with your eyes as he walked further into the room, rounding the couch to sit next to you in the place Noah was, resting the bag between his feet. “That looks nasty... Ukaku, yeah?” he remarks as he gets a look at the laceration. You nod while he inspects the area. “Deep too. Any other injuries?” He asks as he leans down to unzip the bag.

“No,” you say quietly as he rummages, pulling out a pristine white case and several packages of gauze pads, resting them on his knees.

“I can stitch this for you. Luckily, it’s a clean cut. It should heal well if you look after it,” he says, meeting your intense gaze with softness, offering a smile. You couldn’t understand how this was the same man that struck you in the middle and sent you skidding across the bridge.

“Why would you help me?” you ask, unable to contain the disbelief.

“Because you need it. Or, can you stitch this yourself?” He smirks with a joking tone. You laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Two ghouls that want to help you and not kill you. With a shake of your head, you hold your arm out for Nick to work on. “Okay,” he pats the objects on his lap. “I’ll wash my hands, sterilise the area, then get started. I have some pain relief medication that might make it easier.” You shake your head ‘no’, still not trusting the pair and definitely not trusting any medication they claim would help.

“Consider it,” Noah says from the kitchen, where he was crouched down rummaging through the cupboards. “You did get pretty beat up last night too.”

“Sorry about that, by the way,” Nick says, pushing his hair out of his face as he stands and heads for the sink. “What are you looking for?” He asks Noah, scraping his hair all the way back and securing it into a bun.

“I swear we had coffee in this place. Did Folio take it again?”

“It’s right there by the microwave,” Nick nods in the direction from the sink, and Noah takes the tin, grasping it firmly in hand with a wide smile on his face. 

“What would I do without you?” He claps Nick on the shoulder as he passes him in the small space to retrieve a saucepan, filling it with water after Nick steps away from the sink to come back to you. Through the tear in the bottom of Noah’s shirt made by his kagune, you notice a hint of ink on his lower back too.

“That packet there, can you tear it open?” he asks, nodding again towards his bag, hands dripping water on his knees. The package was a sterile towel. You rip the plastic, careful not to touch the cloth with your bloodied and dirtied hands, and hold it out for Nick to take and dry his hands with. Once dry, he reaches into the bag and pulls out a pair of blue latex gloves, snapping them on securely. “Alright, I’ll clean the area a little first. It’s gonna sting,” he warns, the conversation ringing eerily similar to the one you had with your father when he crashed in through the front door two nights ago. He unscrews the cap on the bottle and soaks a gauze pad with the brown liquid. “Let us know if you change your mind about the meds,” he says before dabbing the pad lightly onto the wound. 

He was right; the sting was bad. Gritting your teeth against the burn, you try not to move or flinch away from the pain. As a welcome distraction, the warm aroma of coffee fills the air. You look over to Noah in the kitchen, pouring the water boiled from the stove into three mugs. He brings them over carefully and sets them down on the empty floor, sitting cross-legged opposite the couch.

“So, what are your questions?” You ask him, anxious to get this over with.

His eyes move from where Nick is working on your wound to your face. He takes one of the mugs, leaning forward to place it by Nick’s feet, then takes the third and holds it out, the handle facing you. You hesitate for a moment, but decide against your better judgement. The fatigue was worsening, and you needed to try to stay as alert as possible.

“Why is the CCG moving in on this area?” He asks when he settles back down, taking his own cup and resting it in his lap.

You blink rapidly in confusion, “I didn’t know they were.”

“You’ve been assigned to this area, though?”

“No,” you clarify. “I don’t work for the CCG, and neither does my dad. Not anymore at least.” You take a sip of the black coffee, relishing in the way the liquid warms your aching insides. The flavourful bitterness is a welcome taste on your tongue.

“How do you have quinque weapons if you’re not Investigators?” A crease was prominent in his brow.

“My dad stole them. One is his, the other was my mother’s.”

The sting intensified in your arm as Nick cleaned the deepest part of the wound. You shifted uncomfortably in an attempt to distract yourself.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Almost done with this part.”

“What was the medication you had?” You ask as you scrunch your face up in pain. Maybe it would be a good idea to accept pain relief. Maybe it would work to soothe the rest of your body too.

“It’s just standard over-the-counter stuff from the pharmacy, right?” Noah asks Nick, kneeling forward to rummage through the bag.

“Yeah. Front pocket,” he replies without looking up.

Fishing through the material, Noah retrieves a familiar branded package of painkillers. He holds it up and nods towards you, asking silently if you wanted to take it. You nod and place the mug of coffee momentarily between your knees as Noah pulls a blister strip from the box. He pops two from the packaging and hands them over into your open palm.

“Your hands got fucked up too,” he mentions while you throw the pills into your mouth. Chasing them down with a sip of coffee.

“That happened yesterday,” you say, holding out your palm in front of you to inspect the damage. The reopened small abrasions were visible under a layer of dirt and blood.

“I can clean those up for you too after this,” Nick says, putting a gauze pad aside to click open the white case. He takes out a sterile needle from its packaging and threads it with the suture wire with ease. Nothing like your shaky hands. “Okay. Ready?” He asks. You nod, taking another mouthful of coffee, really wishing it were laced with a shot of something stronger.

The pull of the needle through your skin wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be. A slight scratchy-burning sensation as he weaved the needle in and out of your flesh, looping the thread around itself and pulling firmly to secure the two sides of the wound closed.

“How did your dad steal three quinques from the CCG?” Noah continued his line of questioning. You had to be honest; it was a welcome distraction. Even if the subject matter wasn’t exactly pleasant.

“He worked there for a decade. When my mother died and they forced him into retirement, he took a bunch of files along with the quinques. I think everyone respected him too much to argue with a grieving man.”

Noah nodded, deep in thought. He sipped his coffee before continuing. “Why are you here?”

“My father is looking for someone,” you bite the inside of your cheek.

“Who?”

“A ghoul.”

“Who?” Noah persists. You sigh, closing your eyes. How much information was too much information? “Look, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. We, my friends and I, keep track of all the ghouls in the 13th Ward and all the Doves. "When two doves move in, we want to know why, for the safety of everyone here.”

“Why?” Was your turn to ask. Was this guy some kind of mafia boss? You don’t miss the glance Nick takes from your arm towards Noah.

He takes another sip of coffee. “Innocents get hurt when the wrong people, or the wrong ghouls, are in charge.”

“And you’re the right people? Or, the right ghouls?” You question.

“I’d like to think we are.”

You nod thoughtfully, bringing your mug to your lips.

“Answer me this, at least,” he poses, “are we the ghouls your father is after?”

You shake your head; that face reappears in your mind. “No.”

The room falls silent, a surprisingly comfortable silence as Nick works diligently at your wound. He was almost halfway done now.

“So, what is this place anyway?” You ask, looking around the almost empty room.

“One of our safehouses. We have a lot spread out over the Ward,” Noah clarifies simply.

“One of? How many do you have?” Maybe this guy was a mafia boss after all...

He chuckles under his breath and fiddles with the mug in his hands. “A few. We let ghouls that have nowhere else to go live in them mostly. Or use them ourselves.”

“So, you’re housing the homeless when you’re not ripping people’s throats out with your teeth?” You question sarcastically.

“Did you really do that, dude?” Nick’s hands pause, and he looks up at Noah, amused disgust on his face.

“What was I supposed to do?” He gestures with one hand, eyebrows raised in defence, “just let that ghoul eat you? He wasn’t even supposed to be in this area, anyway.”

Nick shakes his head, a small piece of hair falling free from his bun by the side of his head, and continues stitching your arm. “Who was it?”

“The guy we caught like, four months ago, I think. Shame he didn’t take us up on our offer,” he sighs, sipping his coffee again.

“What offer?” You look between the two.

“We explained we’d be more than happy to get him the food he needs to survive, but in exchange, he couldn’t hunt around here anymore. He wasn’t a fan,” Noah explains.

“Yeah, flipped our table and smashed a window on the way out. Fuck that guy.”

“So housing and feeding the homeless, you’re real philanthropists,” you laugh, sipping from your mug. Until the realisation hits you exactly what kind of food these guys were talking about. This wasn’t a group of good samaritans cooking extra meals in their kitchens to hand out on the streets to those in need. They were feeding ghouls. They were ghouls. You had to remember where you were; remember not to get lulled into a false sense of security, no matter how easy and casual the conversation may be.

“So,” Noah breaks your train of thought, “if you don’t mind me asking, if it’s your father that’s looking for a ghoul here, why did you come too?”

You lower your eyes to your lap and pick at the rim of the ceramic mug. That’s a question you've been asking yourself a lot these past few days. “He’s my dad,” you say quietly with a shrug, regretting it when the cut in your arm stings. “I can’t just leave him alone. He’s all I have.”

Noah nods. “I understand that.”

“Last three, then this is done.” You look down at your arm, and in place of the gaping wound was a neat line of stitches, way neater than anything you’d ever done on your father and definitely neater than what you could’ve done on yourself.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “I really appreciate this.”

“You’re welcome,” Nick smiles up at you as he ties off the final stitch. “Noah, can you get out some more gauze pads so I can fix her hands?"

He wordlessly places his mug down and kneels in front of the bag, rummaging through to find what Nick needs. “These ones?” He asks, holding up some packages.

“Yeah, and can you get- Can I see your hands for a sec?” He asks as he takes a pair of scissors from the white case and snips the suture. You turn your hands over and get a good look at the state of your palms. Nick takes them gently and angles them this way and that. "Yeah, it’s just scrapes, not too bad. We can just clean and bandage them. Can you get the roll of white gauze, the bigger brown roll, and the tape? Oh, and a large plaster.”

Noah rummages for the items, tearing open the packages and setting them in the white case within arms reach for Nick. "Thanks, dude,” he says, reaching down for his mug of coffee that must be lukewarm by now. Regardless, he takes three big gulps, then sets it back on the floor. First, he applies the plaster over the freshly stitched wound, then he rips open a gauze pad, soaks it with antiseptic, and meets your eyes. “Ready?”

“Go for it,” you reply. He’ll probably do a better job cleaning the scrapes than you did in the shower earlier. The sting of the antiseptic makes your eyes water, but you grit your teeth and bear it.

Noah hadn’t moved from where he shuffled closer. Watching attentively as the dirt and blood are cleaned away. You can’t help but look at his tattoos now that he was so close. A red and black, Japanese traditional-style sleeve on one arm, waves and something that appeared to be a fish, and black and grey work on the other. From this angle, you could see a bird with arrows through it and leaves, all part of another larger sleeve that you couldn’t see because of his shirt. Then there were the ones you saw when you first met him—the intricate patterns on his hands and the snake on his neck. You realise the piece on his throat is a scene from Genesis. A hand reaching for the apple with the serpent coiled around. They were all beautiful, you thought, and they suited him well.

“How many of you are there?” You ask almost absentmindedly.

His eyes locked onto yours for a moment, his gaze making your heart race, and you desperately wished it would stop. He was a ghoul; he could probably hear it. “Four of us, mainly. There are others, but most of the work is us four.”

You nod at his answer—the four of them on the bridge. It made sense. You wondered if the others were just as friendly as these two. Or, if this was all still an act.

“You were limping before. Is your leg injured?” Noah asked, something that appeared to be genuine concern etched onto his features.

“Oh,” you say, looking down at the hip in question. “That happened last night too. It’s just bruised. It’s fine.” His concern was almost endearing, despite his group being responsible for the injuries. “Wait,” you frown, looking up at him. “When did you see me limping?”

“Followed you,” he says plainly, throwing back the last of his coffee. You stare at him with wide eyes, Nick continuing to clean up your hands. Apparently you’re the only one in the room that finds being followed weird. “What?” He says, equally shocked. “I thought you were a CCG Investigator on a mission to kill us all! Can you blame me?”

You shake your head in disbelief. You can’t blame him, really. If your dad could get out of bed, he’d probably be following some random ghouls around the Ward right now.

Nick tossed the gauze pad off to the side and wiped off his hands on the towel, then took a fresh pad and pressed it against your palm, tore off pieces of tape, and pressed them on securely to hold it tight to the wounded area. He takes the roll of white gauze and wraps it securely around the gauze pad, up your wrist and down towards your fingers, then does the same with the thicker brown dressing, wrapping it tight to protect the whole thing from the outside and keep it sterile. You flex your fingers when he’s done, finding your range of movement fine.

“Ready for the next one?” He asks. You simply nod and twist towards him in your seat to hold your other palm out.

“How is your father? If you don’t mind me asking,” Noah says softly.

“He’s alive,” you study his face, and he seems to genuinely care. “He’s pretty beat up, but I think he’ll be fine. If he gives himself time to heal, which I’m not sure he will.”

“He’s a hell of a fighter,” Nick comments.

“He’s retired. He should be on a beach somewhere drinking too much liquor.”

Noah chuckles under his breath and collects his cup, then looks at yours. “Do you want another?”

“No, I’m good, thank you,” you hold out the mug for him to take. He stands from the floor with ease and heads off into the kitchen to rinse them out in the sink. You can’t stop staring. A ghoul doing the washing up.

“We really are just trying to protect what we have here, you know,” Nick says as he wraps your hand. “We don’t usually go around picking fights.”

You turn your face to look at him. A ghoul tending to the wounds of a human. “Unlike my father,” you sigh. A moment of silence fills the room, filled only by the sound of running water and the occasional clinking of ceramic. “I’m sorry that he’s causing so much trouble. I keep trying to tell him, but he doesn’t listen. It’s like I can’t get through to him.”

“He’ll listen,” Nick reassures, taping down the last of the bandage. “You’re his daughter.”

You pull your hand back to your lap when he’s finished as he snaps off the latex gloves, flexing both hands and finding they immediately feel better.

Noah comes back into the front room, wiping his hands on his legs to dry them. “Are you sure you don’t have any other injuries? Anything else we can do to help?”

“No. No, I'm sure. I need to go back anyway. Check on my dad.”

“Of course. I’ll walk you there,” Noah says.

You stand on still shaky legs from the couch. “No, you don’t need to do that-”

“It’s late,” he interjects. “I know you might not believe it, but there are worse things out there than us.”

“Don’t forget this,” Nick says, standing to cross the room, opening the door, and picking up a plastic bag from the other side.

“Is that- my groceries?” You ask. Nick just smiles and hands the bag to Noah, who holds it out to you with an outstretched arm. Your hand twitches by your sides, but the movement hesitates; ever present in the back of your mind is the true nature of these men.

"Look, I know I look scary, but I wouldn't hurt a fly. You don't have to worry," Noah reassures.

Nick leans over with a whisper, "you literally killed a man like, an hour ago."

"I didn't say anything about hurting men. I said I wouldn't hurt a fly... That much is true."

“You almost killed me on the bridge,” you counter.

“But I didn’t,” he says with a cheeky smile. You couldn’t wrap your head around how this casual conversation was happening right now.

Nick looks between you and Noah and claps his hands. “Well, I’m gonna go! It was nice meeting you properly. You know, not trying to kill each other.” He collects the trash in a plastic bag, ties it off, and throws it into the duffle, along with the white case full of first aid supplies. Slinging it over his shoulder, he pats Noah on the shoulder and says, “See you later, dude.”

“Yeah, see you.”

“Thank you again,” you say quickly. “And it was nice to properly meet you too.”

He smiles, and with a wave, he was gone through the front door. Noah was right; it wasn’t a trap. They really did want to help. You take your jacket from the couch and cautiously slip it on, careful not to twist your arm in a way that would pull the fresh stitches.

“I’ll carry this for you,” Noah says, holding up the bag. “So you don’t mess up your hands.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say, trying to hide the heat you could feel creeping up on your cheeks.

The air was significantly colder when you stepped outside. Wrapping your arms tight around you, you couldn’t help but glance around at your surroundings. The streets were just as empty as earlier, and you could feel the anxiety creeping up on you again at the idea of being completely alone with a ghoul.

“You ready?” Noah asks, standing a couple of paces ahead of you. You nod silently and catch up to him. You fall into step beside him as you walk; the only sound was the wind whistling through the streets and the grocery bag rustling by Noah’s side.

Your mind wouldn’t stop racing; one question that you didn’t ask him was bouncing around in your brain until you just had to speak. “You let us live. On the bridge.”

“I did.”

“Why?” You ask.

“We don’t kill innocent people.”

“But you kill humans.”

“Out of necessity. And only people that deserve it. There’s no shortage of bad types here.”

“Who are you to decide that?” Your words echo those of the ghoul’s from earlier in the night.

“So the man who was following you home with a knife in his pocket should’ve lived?”

“The- What?”

Noah stops in his tracks and takes a deep breath. “I recognised you at the bookstore cafe. I saw you move in and recognised your father’s scent on you from when he trespassed into our territory. So, I waited for you to leave after your shift. I intended on following you home that night to gather information on your father,” he speaks clearly and plainly. “Like I said before, I keep track of all the Doves in the Ward, and I wanted to know his intentions. Turns out someone else had the same idea. You didn’t even see him behind you, but he pulled a knife out of his pocket and picked up his pace when you reached the outskirts of town. And I stopped him.”

The crash down the alley. You thought it was cats. “You killed him.”

“I did.”

“You saved me.”

“I did.”

“Why would you save me?” The wind whipped around you both, causing you to shiver and wrap your arms around yourself tighter. You realised that Noah never put his own coat back on but showed no signs of being bothered by the cold. “If you recognised me then, you knew I had connections to a CCG Investigator, why would you save me?”

He’s quiet for a moment, deep in thought, before answering, “I don’t know,” then continuing to walk.

You’re both quiet for a while. The silence is comfortable despite the heavy subject matter. “Thank you,” you say quietly. He looks down at you expectantly. “Thank you for saving me. And thank you for letting us live on the bridge.”

Noah nods in understanding.

He’s helped you so far, hasn’t judged you or belittled you. Maybe you really could trust him. “My father, he’s… tracking the ghoul that killed my mother. He thinks he’s here, in the 13th.” You’re silent for a moment as you continue to walk. “I don’t know if he’s right.” You run a hand over your face. “I don’t know if it even matters to him. He’s hellbent on killing every ghoul he can get his weapon on.”

“What do you want?” Noah asks.

“I want my dad back,” you sigh.

You continue to walk. Passing quickly by the alleyway that you almost died in mere hours ago, the only evidence of the fight was the pool of blood left in the street and the mangled dumpster in the mouth of the alley.

“What does he have so far? On the ghoul that killed your mother,” Noah breaks the silence.

“A physical description. He was there, he watched it happen. He has sketches all over his fucking wall,” you spit with a bitter laugh.

“Can you get one for me?” He asks. You cock your head to the side, wondering why he would want an image of the ghoul your father was tracking. “I keep track of every ghoul in the Ward, remember? If he’s local, I’ll know him.”

“What, do you- do you want to help?”

“Maybe if we can find the right guy, let your father get his revenge, he’ll come to his senses again?”

“I don’t know,” you say with a weary sigh. “I don’t know if it’ll be enough for him.” The apartment building was in view, and from the street, you could see no lights were on on your floor. “I’ll get you a sketch. Wait here,” you say as you approach the front door.

Noah nods, hands over the plastic grocery bag, and waits several paces away from the front door. 

When you shove the door open and get inside, the first thing you see in the darkness were the covers you’d given your father from your bed to keep him warm enough in the night, left in a heap on the end of the couch. Immediately you’re irritated. He couldn’t even put them back in your room, the room next door to his.

You squeeze past the couch, leave the groceries on the couch, and crack open his bedroom door, finding him, still breathing, asleep on his side with his back to the door. An empty tin of soup sat on his bedside table. Most likely eaten unheated and straight out of the tin. You close your eyes and sigh deeply, shaking your head and closing the door on the way out.

Stopping off in his office, you stare at his investigation board. Articles and scrawled notes connected with red string pulled straight from the mind of a madman. You find a sketch of that face tacked off to the side and hope he won’t notice its absence. Squeezing past the couch on the way out and pulling the door closed again on its wonky hinges.

Noah is exactly where you left him, though he was standing with his back to the apartment entrance, looking out into the dimly lit empty streets.

“You’ve had dealings with him before, I think. I read a news report on my dad’s desk. Something about him trespassing into your area,” you take one last look at the grotesque face before handing the sketch over to Noah. “This is what he looks like.”

His brown eyes scan the paper before speaking, his tone laced with disdain. “Yeah. We know this guy.”

“Is he here then?”

“Yeah,” Noah nods. “We’ve had some leads on where he’s operating out of. We were going there tomorrow actually, to scope the place out,” he scans the page one more time before looking back at you. “Come with us.”

“Wait, You- Why would you want me there?”

“If you see him for yourself, you’ll know we aren’t lying,” he says sincerely. You hesitate, mulling over the idea of spending more time with this man- this ghoul. “We’ll just be watching from a distance. Besides, the sooner we track him down and deal with him, the sooner you can take your dad back home, right?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” you concede.

“You don’t have to come, but think about it. I’ll come by tomorrow around 10pm, and we can talk more then.”

“Okay,” you nod. Maybe you could get these ghouls to kill Malice; maybe then your father would decide to go back to the 2nd Ward.

Noah nods and turns, hands in his pockets, calling, “See you tomorrow,” over his shoulder.

“Noah!” You call after him as he walks away. “Do you really think you can kill this guy?”

“It doesn’t matter if your father kills him or I do. The ghoul that killed your mother is going to die.”

PREV　/　NEXT [coming soon..]

Ending Notes: I realised my taglist link was wrong so you might wanna check you've liked the correct post (linked at the top) if you want to be updated! 🖤 A glossary has also been added explaining terms if you need it!

➤ 𝗣𝗢𝗣𝗨𝗟𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 (34) :

⌞1𝗌𝗍 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖣 - 𝖢𝖧𝖨𝖸𝖮𝖣𝖠⌝ ‣ @somebodyels3 ‣ @fadingangelwisp ‣ @english-fucker ‣ @missduffsblog ‣ @amelia-acero

⌞2𝗇𝖽 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖣 - 𝖢𝖧𝖴𝖮⌝ ‣ @fadingintothegrey ‣ @babygirlchuuya ‣ @bluebird19 ‣ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ‣ @lil-garbitch

⌞3𝗋𝖽 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖣 - 𝖬𝖨𝖭𝖠𝖳𝖮⌝ ‣ @thisbicc ‣ @clingylittlebun-blog ‣ @queen-foraday ‣ @astridwesson ‣ @dethroneackerman

⌞4𝗍𝗁 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖣 - 𝖲𝖧𝖨𝖭𝖩𝖴𝖪𝖴⌝ ‣ @blairboo ‣ @themorticians-world ‣ @comforting-madness ‣ @savaneafricaine ‣ @tosoundlessdarkistare

⌞5𝗍𝗁 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖣 - 𝖡𝖴𝖭𝖪𝖸𝖮⌝ ‣ @aubrey-melinoe ‣ @badomensls ‣ @theaudraeymarie ‣ @psychomaniacmind ‣ @stardust-and-starlight

⌞6𝗍𝗁 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖣 - 𝖳𝖠𝖨𝖳𝖮⌝ ‣ @looney-goose ‣ @sadbitchenergy ‣ @friedchildblaze ‣ @touyas-princess ‣ @strltsaiuki

⌞7𝗍𝗁 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖣 - 𝖲𝖴𝖬𝖨𝖣𝖠⌝ ‣ @lovesick-evangelist ‣ @sanekiii ‣ @dravenskye ‣ @minah2020 ‣ @rumoured-whispers

⌞7𝗍𝗁 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖣 - 𝖪𝖮𝖳𝖮⌝ ‣ @1crushed1 ‣ @thewrstinme ‣ @theskyislonely

[mullermilkshake]

Satoru gets back late

MINORS DNI - Tags: Yakuza AU, Fluff

Satoru huffed the long day away.

The traffic away from Ryomen headquarters was stifling, a sea of red car lights in tandem with each other as though the world just knew that Satoru was trying to come to see you.

He trudged out of the elevator and made his way down the hall to your front door. It wasn't unusual for Satoru to let himself in seeming as he had his own key.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Doll," he opened the door looking down at his feet just as low as he felt. "I got called into an emergency meeting that I couldn’t get out of. My boss is an asshole.”

You said nothing, he noticed you standing right there in the hallway by the living area with a look on your face.

“What?”

A raised brow should have told Satoru everything he needed to know, but he was an idiot right now.

"What's wrong?"

Taking three steps towards him, your eyes darted around at his neck. “Have you been fighting again?”

“Huh?" holy shit how did you find that out with one glance? "No… No course not, baby.”

The glare you gave him was one that screamed 'don't take me for an idiot, Satoru Gojo.'

“There’s blood on your collar.”

Shit.

"Uh..." quick fucking think of something.

The thing was, you knew Satoru's position in the Yakuza, you just didn't approve of it. And yes, you got into a committed relationship with him knowing this, but that didn't stop you from voicing your concerns every now and then.

"Be honest with me, Satoru. How did that blood get there, because I know it wasn't a cut from shaving."

"Shit. I can't lie to you," Satoru slumped and leant against the closed front door, the guilt of even trying to hide anything sank like concrete.

"I can't stop you from doing what you're doing, but I care about your well-being. This fighting isn't healthy. What if-" you stopped yourself and bite down on your lower lip.

"I'm not gonna get injured if that's what you're thinkin' about, Doll."

"You don't know that. You just don't," shaking your head solidified that fact.

Satoru didn't know, however he adopted the whole live fast die young gig long before he ever met you, way before he even joined the Yakuza. It was just how Satoru operated.

Still, your large welling eyes stopped Satoru right where he was. "I'm sorry."

What else could he say right now that wasn't going to make you cry further? Nothing really, so he came over and pulled you close to him.

Maybe he could tone it down a bit, try this stupid method Sukuna suggested at the meeting and gather intel before smashing skulls. It just wasn't as fun though, was it?

However Captain Yaga would be back soon and then Satoru really would have to behave.

"How can I make it up to you?"

Looking up at him, he could see how red your eyes actually were. "It's not about making up, Satoru. It's promising to take care of yourself."

He nodded without hesitation. "Alright, I promise."

In honesty, you were the perfect person to balance out his pointed edges. And despite how far he wanted to go with people sometimes, most of the time it was only really you he wanted to impress and keep happy.

Everyone else could suck it.

[kimmie2me]

# 03. Unexpected Partners

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✰⋆⁺⋆˙⠀⠀⠀⠀taglist ... chapters ... masterlist

.....

If you’d had a time machine, you wouldn’t use it for anything noble or selfless—no epic rescue of historical figures, no preventing major disasters. Nope. You’d drag yourself back a month just to shake your wide-eyed, naïve self by the shoulders and scream, "Don’t do it. Find another department. Any other department. Join traffic control. Herd cats. Just don’t end up here."

Because here was Bakugou personal circle of hell. The past few weeks felt like a marathon in which you’d been tripped at the starting line, dragged halfway, and then left to sprint uphill. In the rain. With weighted vests. There was no mercy in Bakugou’s world, only adrenaline and barked orders that carried enough force to knock the confidence right out of your chest.

You learned, fast and furiously, that he wasn’t just tough. He was ruthless, exacting, and demanded perfection with all the warmth of a drill sergeant who hadn’t had coffee. And coffee—you’d learned the hard way—was something that could make or break a morning. There was The Incident when you dared bring him a cup with too much sugar, only to receive a sharp glare and a grumbled, “What, you think I’m ten?” The next thirty minutes were dedicated to sprint drills so intense your calves whimpered for days. All you wanted to do is figure out what the hell his favorite coffee is! Yes, you're still trying..

And yes, you're still failing.

Bakugou’s teaching methods were a combination of trial by fire and sheer terror. He wasn’t interested in your excuses or half-assed answers. If you messed up, you’d know—usually by the clipped way he’d shout, “Run it again,” or the eye twitch that signaled he was two seconds from ripping the folder out of your hands and doing it himself.

It wasn’t just the shouting, though that was certainly a staple. It was the moments he’d watch you with that hawk-eyed stare, arms crossed and expression set like granite. There were no second chances when Bakugou was breathing down your neck; you either got it right or got ready to count pavement cracks while doing your punishment laps. You hadn’t done so many wall sits since training, thighs quivering like jelly by the time he allowed you to stand.

And it wasn’t just you. Anyone who dared step into his path found themselves swept up in the tornado of his expectations. It made surviving the day feel like a badge of honor, if surviving meant stumbling into your apartment with barely enough strength to fling your shoes off.

One time, you’d accidentally jumbled up a lead in a report, swapping suspect descriptions that Bakugou caught in record time. He’d smacked the paper onto your desk with an incredulous look. “D’you even read this before handin’ it in?” And just like that, your next hour was filled with circuits and resistance bands that made your arms feel like spaghetti. “C’mon, rookie, or should I start callin’ you noodle arms?” The jab stuck, and you groaned whenever he brought it up.

Bakugou’s wrath was tempered only by moments of begrudging silence, the rare instances where you met his eyes and thought you saw a flicker of something softer, only to blink and find it gone. Those moments would have been comforting if they weren’t fleeting, crushed by his next tirade over a misplaced document or a missed clue.

But just as you’d started thinking maybe you’d bitten off more than you could chew, a case dropped that pulled everyone into high gear: a string of burglaries, each more calculated than the last. No dumb luck, no rookie mistakes would fly with this one. Bakugou’s tension was palpable, a crackle in the air whenever he entered the room. He’d pace with his hands shoved into his pockets, muttering curses and theories under his breath like the case had insulted him personally.

Your nerves spiked with each passing day. Bakugou was more relentless than ever, orders flung out faster than you could grab your notebook. And if you so much as hesitated? He’d turn, eyes gleaming like a predator scenting blood. “Keep up, or get out.”

By the time you wrapped up that week’s legwork, you weren’t sure whether to feel accomplished or absolutely wrecked. Bakugou had pushed every ounce of strength and patience from your body, leaving you hollowed out and aching. Yet, for some reason you’d yet to understand, you kept coming back, stepping into the precinct with a quiet determination that only grew as his glare followed you like a challenge.

Time machine, you reminded yourself, scribbling down notes that were half-legible from your shaking hand. You’d go back, find yourself, and whisper conspiratorially, Choose desk duty. It’ll save your soul.

But you didn’t have a time machine. You had Bakugou. And you were starting to suspect he might just make a detective out of you, whether you survived him or not.

.....

The burglaries had started small—a string of break-ins that barely made the back page of the city’s morning paper. But each successive hit grew bolder, more precise, like the thief was taunting the force. By the time it hit their radar, Chief Yagi’s usually calm expression had hardened to steel, and even the more seasoned detectives were exchanging wary glances.

For you, it meant one thing: Bakugou was operating at maximum intensity, his usual scowl deepened to something almost carved from stone. It was an energy you could feel in the air, like the static before a lightning strike. And with that, the pace of your life turned from grueling to almost impossible. Long days blurred into longer nights, the fluorescent lights above burning into your skull as you combed through reports with squinting eyes and a splitting headache. The precinct buzzed with anticipation and tension, everyone bracing for the storm.

You sat at your desk, meticulously cross-referencing suspect details when Bakugou stormed in, clipboard in one hand and the other pressed into his hip like it was the only thing keeping him from losing it entirely. He glanced around the room, eyes sharp as the edge of a blade, before they settled on you. The air shifted.

“Rookie,” he barked, and you jumped, nearly dropping your pen. He didn’t wait for you to recover before launching into his rapid-fire speech. “Listen up, ‘cause I’m only sayin’ this once. The pattern’s changed. Our thief’s not just hittin’ high-value targets anymore—they’re goin’ after places with tech infrastructure. Means they’re not just lookin’ for loot—they’re diggin’ for data, and if we don’t get ahead, we’re gonna be two steps behind with our heads up our—”

He paused, jaw tightening like he was biting back an insult, and then leaned down, bringing himself to eye level. His eyes were an inferno, daring you to miss a word. “You listening?”

You nodded so fast it was a wonder your neck didn’t cramp, scribbling down notes as if your life depended on it. Maybe it did—at least, your peace of mind surely did. Bakugou’s tone wasn’t just demanding; it was drilled into your skull, searing in its urgency.

“Good. Now, look—”

“Oh! Hey, Kacchan!!”

The voice sliced through the room like a record scratch, shattering Bakugou’s hyper-focused tension into a thousand jagged pieces. He physically recoiled, straightening up so fast you’d think he’d been stung. Your pen stilled mid-word, eyes flicking between him and the newcomer with an internal "?!?!?!?!" blaring in neon letters.

Kacchan?

There, standing at the threshold of the precinct like he’d wandered in by accident, was Detective Midoriya Izuku, all soft smiles and bright green eyes. He gave a little wave as if Bakugou wasn’t seconds away from launching into orbit.

“Kacchan, hi! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Midoriya’s tone was impossibly cheerful, and the nickname fell from his lips like it was a greeting between best friends. But from the way Bakugou’s hands twitched, it may as well have been a bomb dropped into a room full of dynamite.

Bakugou’s response was instantaneous, voice sharp enough to cut glass. “What the hell’re you doin’ here, Deku?”

The silence that followed was suffocating, punctuated only by the distant hum of computers and a detective a few desks over clearing their throat awkwardly. Your heart thumped in your chest as if it was trying to escape the awkwardness, and you glanced at Midoriya, expecting him to shrink back. But he didn’t—his smile wavered, sure, but he held his ground, eyes earnest.

“I’m here to help with the case,” Midoriya explained, and it took everything in you not to whip your head around. Help? With your case?

Bakugou’s reaction was as explosive as you expected. “Help? You—”

But before he could finish, a voice cut through the tension like a blade. “Enough, boys.” Chief Yagi’s voice was firm as he walked in, flanked by another man who exuded calm authority—the infamous Chief Aizawa Shouta. His tired eyes swept over the room, taking in the scene with a raised brow.

“Chief Aizawa and his team are joining us for this operation. And that includes Detective Midoriya.” Chief Yagi’s tone left no room for argument.

Bakugou’s jaw set so tight you could hear the grind of teeth. And in that moment, you knew that whatever the past few weeks had been like? They were about to get a whole lot more complicated.

…

You barely had time to absorb Midoriya’s, let alone Cheif Aizawa's, sudden appearance before Chief Yagi called everyone into the briefing room. This would’ve been a regular meeting for the higher-ups—the kind you’d usually only hear about when Bakugou came out, slamming the door behind him, face redder than the emergency exit signs. But today, for reasons you couldn’t fathom, you were summoned along. Because apparently, if Bakugou was involved, you were involved.

The briefing room was already filling up, the thick scent of coffee and paper lingering in the air as officers shuffled in, muttering greetings and speculations under their breath. Chief Yagi took his place at the head of the room, looking as solid and unyielding as ever, while Chief Aizawa leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, observing the room with the detached but alert gaze of a cat watching a busy street. Midoriya slid into a chair near the front, shooting you a small, encouraging smile. Bakugou, in contrast, looked like he’d swallowed a wasp.

Then, in strode Officer Ashido Mina, bright as a firecracker, with Officer Sero Hanta close behind her, both exuding a casual confidence that somehow didn’t feel out of place even in a room of high-stakes professionals. Mina shot a finger-gun wave at the room, winking in your direction before taking a seat across from Midoriya. Sero plopped down beside her, his grin almost lazy but eyes sharp, taking in everything at once.

Chief Yagi’s voice brought the room to order. “Alright, everyone, this joint task force is in place because the burglaries have escalated. We’re dealing with a team of thieves targeting secure information in addition to high-value assets. The leads point to a complex operation, and that’s where our collaboration comes in.”

He nodded to Chief Aizawa, who spoke in that low, measured tone that commanded instant respect. “We need all hands on deck. Each of you will have a role—whether it’s field, intel, or processing. Officer Uraraka will be on the evidence team, coordinating with the data we’ve collected so far.”

The mention of Uraraka’s name caught your attention, and sure enough, she was at the back, beaming when she spotted you. Her presence was a rare comfort in this sea of intense, stern faces. It had been years since you’d seen her, but it was like old times when she waved, mouthing an excited “Hey!”

“Detective Bakugou, Officer L/N, you’ll be working alongside Detective Midoriya’s team,” Chief Yagi continued, and the very air in the room seemed to vibrate as Bakugou’s scowl deepened. He was in full protest mode, shooting daggers at Midoriya, who looked back with a determined—if slightly nervous—smile.

Once the briefing concluded, Chief Yagi dismissed everyone, and the room exploded in chatter as officers filed out. You managed to navigate through the crowd until you reached Uraraka, who practically bounced on her toes, pulling you into a quick hug.

“Can you believe it? We’re working together!” she said, her voice bright with excitement. “I’ve been doing the fingerprinting, data scans—all the good stuff. Remember when I used to geek out about this stuff in school?”

“Oh, totally! You always aced those forensics projects,” you replied, grinning as the memories rushed back.

She nodded, laughing. “Exactly! And now, look at us! I get to actually do it. And you—you’re working with Bakugou Katsuki, of all people!” Her eyes widened with awe and maybe a little mischief, the kind that reminded you of her knack for getting you into trouble back in the day.

“Working is a strong word,” you muttered, glancing over at Bakugou, who was still glaring holes into Midoriya, ignoring everyone else. “Surviving might be more accurate.”

Uraraka giggled but quickly straightened when she caught Bakugou’s expression aimed squarely at her—a glare so intense that it was a wonder she didn’t spontaneously combust. She cleared her throat, gave you a small, sympathetic smile, and said, “Well, I’d better get back to it. I’ll send over the scans when they’re ready! And hey, catch up soon?”

You nodded, squeezing her hand in agreement. “Definitely. Thanks, Ochaco.”

With a final grin, Uraraka turned back to her workstation, her demeanor shifting from friendly to focused in an instant. You watched her go, feeling a brief pang of jealousy at how seamlessly she slid into her work. But that was quickly overridden by the realization that Bakugou was striding your way, arms crossed and a storm brewing in his expression.

“Done with your little reunion?” he sneered, barely waiting for you to nod. “Good. 'Cause now it’s time for you to actually do somethin’ useful, rookie.” He nodded towards the open case file in his hand. “Let’s go.”

.....

The silence between you and Bakugou was taut, strung up like an overused wire threatening to snap. He stalked ahead, practically dragging the storm cloud that was his mood behind him. You weren’t entirely sure why he’d decided that now was the time to go full boot camp on you, but here you were, heels clicking on the polished floor, trying not to look like you’d rather melt into it.

“Listen up, rookie,” Bakugou started without turning around, his voice a low rumble laced with that familiar bite. He navigated the labyrinth of hallways like a predator circling its territory. You’re gonna make yourself useful if it kills ya, got it?”

You swallowed thickly, feeling a combination of irritation and nerves twist in your chest. You’d learned over the past few weeks that Bakugou had a penchant for the extreme. Everything was all or nothing with him, whether it was paperwork, interrogations, or the way he yelled about the printer jamming (which was only your fault that one time).

“Got it,” you managed, though it came out weaker than you intended. He spared you a glance, eyes narrowing as if daring you to prove him right about all the times he’d muttered under his breath about “extras” wasting his time.

As if on cue, the door to one of the briefing rooms swung open, and Detective Kirishima stepped out, his broad grin a sharp contrast to Bakugou’s perpetual scowl. “Yo! Heard we’re working together on this one,” he said, his voice friendly and warm, instantly cutting through the tension.

Great. If there was ever a time to look capable, it was now. Not that Kirishima would ever point out your mistakes, but being around Bakugou had a way of amplifying your self-awareness until it was deafening.

“Try not to get in the way,” Bakugou snapped, jerking his thumb towards the entrance. You wondered if his eyes had always held that unrelenting glint or if he’d sharpened it specifically for you. Kirishima, bless him, only chuckled, patting you on the back as he passed by.

“Don’t mind him. He’s just on edge about the syndicate case,” Kirishima whispered, though you knew Bakugou’s sharp hearing likely picked it up. His glare confirmed it, but he didn’t say anything, turning his attention to the map on the table instead. Red pins clustered like a rash, each marking a hit by the crime syndicate that had every department in the city scrambling.

The realization hit you hard. The stakes were higher than ever, and the idea of fumbling now made your stomach churn. The last thing you needed was to mess up in front of Bakugou and Kirishima, especially when the latter’s optimism made you want to do better and the former’s disdain made you feel like you never could.

Bakugou laid out the plan, his voice cutting through the thick tension in the room. "..'nd if we’re lucky, tonight’s stakeout’ll give us what we need.” He turned to you, eyes narrowing to twin blades. “That clear, rookie?”

“Crystal,” you muttered, earning a sharp nod.

As Kirishima checked the comms equipment, you shifted on your feet, the weight of what was coming pressing against your chest like a vice. The quiet hum of urgency filled the room as you prepared for the night ahead, a stakeout that promised no sleep, a test of patience, and a confined space with Bakugou’s intensity smoldering beside you.

Yeah. You're soo fucked.

[dira333]

Oh, how do I explain...? - Aomine Daiki x Reader

best friend's brother and meet ugly - for @tsxkishimx for the Milestone Event Week 1

Your best friend picks up right away.

“Hey, what’s new with you?” You ask, hoping she won’t hear the light quiver in your voice.

“Nothing much.” She yawns. “Why are you calling, though? Did you rip your pants again and need an explanation on how to stitch them back up the fastest way?”

“No! And that happened over a year ago, why do you have to bring that up all the time?”

“Because.” You can hear the grin in her voice. “Now tell, what’s going on?”

“I might not be single anymore.”

“Shut up!” She cries out before gathering herself again. “Okay, I’m all ears. Who? When? How?”

“Well,” you cringe, glad she can’t see your face. “You know him.”

“Oh, is it Steve?”

“It’s not Steve.” From across the room, Daiki’s head shoots up. He’d been pretending not to listen in, but you can tell he’s doing anything but. 

“Steve?” He mouths in your direction and you shake your head at him. 

“Thank god,” your best friend comments with relief. “He’s kinda weird. But I know them?”

“Yeah,” you can’t help sounding a little miffed now. “There are guys who think I’m cute, you know!”

“Sure, sure. But Kuroko is taken and you think Kagami is overrated, so-”

“Why would you think-” You cut yourself off before you can say that name out loud, knowing Daiki will most likely wreak havoc at the thought of it. “I’ll tell you how we met and you’ll probably guess it from there.”

“Oh, an iconic entrance. You’re known for that.”

“Shut up!” You groan, almost more to Daiki than to her because he’s now taking a place on the Couch next to your feet, brows furrowed, still focused on the Steve topic.

You pull a threat from the inseam of your hoodie and play with it as you recollect that fated first meeting.

-

“Bathroom is down the hallway, the second door to the right.” Your friend says as she sends you your merry way.

“Okay,” you hop along, a little too energetic for this late hour but your friend has sweets at home whereas your mom is more fond of almonds and raisins for snacks.

Whistling, you open the bathroom door with flourish only to come face to face with a boy. A very much naked boy.

You squeak and he flinches back, tripping on a crumpled-up towel on the floor and falling backward.

“Close the door,” he yells at you and you do just that, though your brain’s too focused on panicking to do all the other necessary steps.

“And get out!” He groans from somewhere behind you.

“Oh, sure, yes.” You scramble for the door again, this time to step outside as well only to realize that there’s still unfinished business.

You knock softly. “I need to use the toilet though.”

“That’s the next door!” Comes his muffled reply.

-

“Well,” you clear your throat awkwardly. “We met when I accidentally walked in on him when he got out of the shower.”

Your friend laughs. “Oh my god, is that your theme now? I remember when you did that with Daiki, that was hilarious.”

“It was no fun at all,” Daiki grumbles, low enough you barely catch it but your friend has the ears of a bat, it seems.

“Who’s that?” She asks and your breath hitches in your throat.

“N-no one.”

“Oh, is your boyfriend with you? Let me say hi!”

You’re still hesitating when you see Daiki move forward as if to grab your phone so you react on instinct.

“N-no, you have to guess first.”

“Oh,” she sounds a little dejected. “How long have you been crushing on them?”

Daiki stops, a Cheshire cat grin growing on his face as you grow even more flustered.

“That’s a mean question,” you tell your friend but she doesn’t want to hear any of that.

“Nonsense. I know you better than he ever will. Tell me, how long have you been crushing on him?”

-

“Do you have a crush on anyone?” Your new best friend asks. 

Two days you know each other now and you’ve already decided that you’ll be best friends forever, no matter where life takes you. 

Thank god the teacher put you two next to each other in class.

“Yeah,” you duck your head between your shoulders. “There’s a guy in school that’s really cute.”

“Really? From our class?”

You shake your head. “No. He’s a third year. He’s going to go to Middle School next year.”

“Oh,” she sounds sympathetic and you like her even more. 

At least she understands how much it will hurt to have the only cute guy in school leave after just one year.

“Who do you like?” You ask and she opens her little notebook to show you a cut out from a magazine.

“He’s really pretty,” you tell her, admiring her choice until you find a familiar face amongst all those cutouts.

“Who’s that?” You ask, pointing at it. How does she have a picture of your crush?

“Oh? That’s my big brother Daiki. He’s so annoying.”

-

“Since Primary School?” Your best friend's voice echoes through the room. Daiki’s face changes into something you can’t really pronounce but his hand curls around your ankle like a promise, a gesture so soft it’s almost surprising.

“But the only guy you liked back then was- OH MY GOD!”

You cringe but it’s too late. 

“Am I on speaker? Please tell me I’m on speaker.”

“You’re on speaker,” Daiki adds before you can say anything.

“You’re such an ass!” She tells him. “I’ve been trying to set you guys up for years and you get together in the only week I’m not around?”

“Why do you think we managed? It was so much easier without your ugly mutt interfering.”

“You take that back-”

“Can we just be happy?” You cut in. “Please?”

“Hmph.” They both grunt in unison, too alike all of a sudden.

“You’re not mad?”

“Mad? No. I’m elated. I’m just pissed my brother didn’t let me know anything. At least you’re keeping me up to date. I want all the details when I’m back from my trip, okay?”

“Sure.”

“And Daiki, if you hurt her, I’m going to make sure Mom and Dad know!”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves her off, cutting the line at the same time. “As if I’d let that happen.”

[murmaiderii]

A BETTER WORLD CHAPTER 2: MABEL'S NONDENOMINATIONAL HOLIDAY BASH

NSFW, MDNI, also available on ao3

Dipper and Mabel's parents' names courtesy of @lomy-bloom

Ford packs the last of his shirts for his trip away. He was only planning on taking two outfits, one to sleep in and one to wear through the day. Odyssey, his girlfriend of just under a year, refused to let him wear the same unwashed outfit three days in a row. He insisted it was a more efficient use of space. She insisted that that was ridiculous. He looks at his girlfriend’s much larger suitcase on the bed and wonders how she can go through so many clothes in such a short trip.

“Honey, are you done packing?” Ford yells.

“One more thing!” She rushes into their shared bedroom and stuffs a toiletry bag in a suitcase pocket.

“I’ll pack up the car. Can you grab some snacks for us?”

“Gotcha.” Odyssey darts to the kitchen. Ford goes outside and drops their suitcases in the trunk. He waits for her in the driver’s seat. After a longer wait than he was expecting, she stumbles into the passenger seat and lets out a shuddering breath.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Ford takes her hand and rubs it with his thumb.

“Just… Jesus, I just know your family is gonna hate me,” she sighs. 

“That’s not true. Mabel and Dipper already like you,” he reassures her.

“Yeah, but they’re kids. It’s the adults I’m worried about. Everyone’s gonna accuse me of being a gold digger.”

“Let them think what they want. All that matters is what we think of each other.”

“They’re gonna call you a dirty old man, you know. People get super judgemental about age gaps.” Ford sighs.

“I admit, that has been on my mind. But we can’t hide from my family forever. Mabel would never forgive me if I missed one of her nondenominational holiday bashes.” Odyssey giggles at the name of the party. That niece of his sure has a flair for the dramatic. 

“Do we really have to stay at the house with everyone?”

“Mabel insists.”

“We won’t have any privacy. I dunno how I’m supposed to keep my hands off of you for three days,” she complains.

“We’ll just have to sneak out when we can,” Ford says with a blush.

“That’s kinda hot, actually. It’s like forbidden romance. Wanna get some practice fucking in the car before we go?” Ford chuckles.

“Odyssey, we’re already running late,” he reminds her.

“Fine, we’ll sneak out in the middle of the night. I guess let’s get this over with.” Ford gives her a kiss on the knuckles and starts the car for the seven hour drive.

“God, my ass is sore,” Odyssey complains. Ford parks on the crowded street outside of his nephew’s house. They get out of the car and unload their luggage. Despite her full bladder, Odyssey hesitates to go into the lively home. Ford puts a hand on the small of her back.

“Come on, honey. Stalling won’t make this any easier.” She groans and drops her head.

“Right, let’s rip the bandaid.” Ford slips his hand from her back to hold Odyssey’s. They approach the door. Ford squeezes Odyssey’s hand and knocks on the door. Ford and Odyssey are both relieved to be greeted by Mabel.

“Great uncle Ford!” She launches herself into Ford’s arms. He fondly laughs. “It’s been too long!”

“Good to see you again, Mabel. Now, I know you’ve been eager to meet Odyssey.” Mabel lets go of her uncle to give Odyssey a big hug.

“Heya, Mabel. Thanks for inviting me to your party,” Odyssey says. 

“Pfft, don’t mention it. I’ve been waiting my whole life to be able to invite one of Fordsy’s girlfriends.” Mabel leans into Odyssey’s ear to whisper. “There haven’t been any until now.”

“Mabel!” Ford whines.

“It’s okay, babe. She’s not telling me anything I didn’t know.”

“Wow, ‘babe.’ You guys are the cutest.” Mabel flicks her wrist and guides the couple inside. All sorts of family members whose identities Odyssey doesn’t know mingle through the house. 

“Uncle Ford, you’re finally here!” Mabel’s father, Ford’s nephew, walks through the foyer and gives his uncle a quick hug. “I see you brought your… friend.” Odyssey smiles awkwardly at her boyfriend’s nephew, who is more than a decade older than her.

“Nice to meet you…” She extends a hand for him. He curtly shakes it and proceeds to act like she isn’t there. Mabel kicks her dad in the shin.

“Dad, be nice,” she says through gritted teeth.

“I am being nice. Why don’t you take your great uncle’s friend to their room while I catch up with him.” Mabel rolls her eyes.

“His girlfriend , dad. She’s his girlfriend .” Mabel grabs Ford’s suitcase from him. “Follow me, Odyssey.” Mabel brings Odyssey to an upstairs bedroom. There are two blow up mattresses on the floor, along with an actual bed. “It’s a good thing you’re with Ford. It means you get an actual bed.”

“My boy is that much of a VIP, huh?”

“No, it’s because he’s old. All the older guests get actual beds,” she explains.

“Hah! Don’t tell him you said that. He’s already a little embarrassed to be dating someone so much younger.” Odyssey lines the suitcases up to the side of the bed. Sharing the room with several strangers is one of the top things she was dreading about this trip, but she’ll suck it up for Ford. She’s taking the side of the bed against the wall, though. “Now, onto the most pressing issue; where is the bathroom?”

“Down the hall and to the left,” Mabel instructs. “Hey, if anyone says anything all dumb and judgemental to you and my great uncle, just find me. I’ll give them a piece of my mind.”

“I’ll do that. Thanks, Mabel. You’re a real one.” Odyssey and Mabel fistbump.

“You know it, dawg.” Mabel goes back downstairs to socialize while Odyssey uses the bathroom. The relief she feels in there is intense, not just because she’s needed to pee for an hour, but because this is the only room where she’s alone. She’s only met Mabel and Ford’s nephew so far, and she’s already worn out. If Mabel’s dad is a sign of things to come, she’s in for a very long vacation. At least with this many people around, no one will notice if she sneaks out to the car with her laptop a few times a day. She can lounge in the backseat and write up a short horror story about a family gathering when she needs a moment away.

When exiting the bathroom, her head kept down, she collides with another woman. “Crap! Sorry!” She apologizes. She looks up at the woman, who shares some features with Mabel, but not with Ford. “You, uh, must be Dipper and Mabel’s mom.”

“And you must be uncle Ford’s… friend…” She says with a sneer.

“His girlfriend, yeah,” she corrects. “I’m Odyssey.” She extends a hand. Mabel's mother shakes it in the same manner as her husband did. She knew the adults wouldn’t like her.

“Right, nice to meet you. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Mabel’s mother goes into the bathroom, freeing Odyssey. Now she needs to find Ford and not leave his side all night. People might at least pretend to not be disgusted by her if he’s around. 

Downstairs, she finds her boyfriend talking with his nephew and great-nephew, who is the only person she’s excited to see other than Mabel. Dipper looks at his great uncle with an adorable adoration in his eyes. From what she’s heard, Dipper has always idolized Ford. Ford has confided in her that he feels guilty for not being able to see Dipper more, having rejected several invitations to family functions, as well as limiting visitation from Dipper and Mabel. He’s a busy man, sometimes not even having time for his own girlfriend, so it’s to be expected. That doesn’t mean he can’t feel bad about it.

“Odyssey! Hey!” Dipper walks up to Odyssey and gives her the first proper handshake she’s gotten tonight.

“‘Sup, Dipper!” She gives him a friendly smack on the arm. 

“Honey, Dipper was just asking me about my recent research on banshees. Odyssey is the one that edited the article you read.” She walks over to her boyfriend and wraps an arm around his waist.

“Reading that thing nigh on gave me a heart attack. Do you know what your crazy uncle had to do to get those banshee tonsils?” Odyssey asks Dipper. Dipper grins widely.

“What did he do? Tell me!” Dipper’s father clears his throat.

“I hope this story is appropriate for kids, Uncle Ford.” Dipper frowns at his dad’s killjoy attitude.

“Come on, dad, I know that his work is a little dangerous. Let me at least hear the story since he won’t let me go on expeditions with him anyway,” Dipper rants.

“It’s for your own good, my boy. I won’t even bring Odyssey out on most research trips, and she’s a grown woman,” Ford tells Dipper. Dipper’s father scoffs.

“Is she, though?” He says under his breath.

“Dad!” Dipper chastises his father for being rude.

“You know what, babe, why don’t we go get some food?” Odyssey drags Ford to the kitchen, gripping his side. She pours glasses of wine for her and her boyfriend and guzzles it down. Ford rubs her shoulder. “Jesus fucking Christ…”

“I’m sorry, dear. I wasn’t expecting him to be that bad.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” She rubs her temples. “I just needed to get out of there before I started getting mean in front of his kid.” Ford plants a kiss on her jaw. A few other people in the kitchen gawk at them. She takes another glass of wine and pops a piece of cheese in her mouth.

“You have exceptional judgment, my dear. You would have absolutely humiliated him if you ‘got mean’ with him.” Ford chuckles in her ear.

“It would’ve been a bloodbath. Why don’t I just… stay in our room before I do something rash? I’m sure your nephew won’t be the only one who has something to say to me.”

“I don’t want to be away from you. Let’s just grab a plate of brownies and sneak off somewhere until someone notices,” He suggests. She shakes her head.

“You should be spending time with your family. Mabel wouldn’t be happy if you hid away all night.”

“She wouldn’t want you hiding away, either.”

“She’d prefer it to me giving someone a verbal beatdown in the middle of her party. Go, socialize for a change. I’ll abscond with this bottle of wine and calm myself down enough that I might be able to play it nice tomorrow.” She gives him a quick peck on the lips and makes her way through the crowd. Ford sighs as he watches his girlfriend leave him to fend for himself tonight. Now it’s his sole responsibility to defend his relationship. Odyssey is certainly right that she can’t be unleashed when she’s mad. He’s still traumatized from the time he watched her dismantle the matriarch of the Northwest family for implying Ford was a cradle robber.

No one notices Odyssey’s absence, other than Ford and Dipper. Dipper is pretty understanding of Odyssey’s need for isolation. He would much rather be playing video games in his room than be passed around from distant family member to distant family member. He wanders into her room a couple of times with some snacks and some questions about the previously discussed banshee research.

“He should’ve been bed bound for a week after that, but the maniac refused to stay put for more than three days. He would’ve been back at work the day after if I hadn’t forced him back into bed.”

“I wish he’d let me come to help. I could’ve distracted the banshee before it hit him.” Dipper puffs out his chest. 

“I’m sure you would,” Odyssey giggles. “Don’t tell your parents I told you this, alright?”

“Yeah. Sorry they’re being such dicks to you. Don’t tell them I said dicks.”

“Our little secret,” she promises.

“Dipper! Come help me with the music!” Mabel shouts from the bottom of the stairs.

“Ugh, I gotta go before I blow both of our covers.” Dipper runs off, waving to Odyssey. At least she has a couple allies here. She sits back and relaxes until people start turning in.

“Baby, remind me I hid the empty wine bottle under the bed,” Odyssey whispers to Ford as he gets into bed. “I don’t need them thinking I have a drinking problem on top of everything else.

“Of course, dear.” Ford wraps his arm around Odyssey from behind and nuzzles his head into her back. They lie awake in bed, occasionally sneaking quick kisses, both stressing about the coming days. She could get away with hiding for one night, but she’s going to be expected to participate in the daytime events. One of the men staying in the same room starts snoring violently.

“Oh my god, that’s so bad,” Odyssey quietly cringes.

“It puts mine to shame.”

“Your snoring is cute. His is ear shattering. What the hell? How do you not wake yourself up with that?”

“Do you want to… sneak out to the car for a little while?” Ford asks, tracing circles in Odyssey’s skin.

“God, yes.” They get out from under the blanket and creep through the room, down the stairs, and out the door. No one seems to wake up. Ford unlocks the car as silently as possible, and they both slip into the backseat. Odyssey rubs her man’s upper thigh. “I’ve been wanting to touch you all night.” Ford pulls Odyssey into his lap. They share passionate kisses. Odyssey grinds into Ford’s lap.

“Ohh, my love. I missed you tonight,” Ford moans into her mouth. “All I could think about was joining you in bed.” Odyssey reaches down and tugs the waistband of Ford’s pants down enough for his dick to spring out. She contorts to pull her shorts and panties off. “My Odyssey…” He rubs circles into her clit.

“Yeah, Ford… god, you’re so good, baby.” She lifts herself up to sit on his dick, bringing erotic groans out of both of them. He grips her hips roughly. “Wanna savor the moment, but… not very comfortable in here. Gotta make this quick.” She rocks on his lap. He gives her those sad little whimpers of his that she loves so much.

“Won’t be a problem,” he pants. He erratically massages her clit as she bounces on him. He buries his face in her clothed breasts. “Yes… Odyssey… my—” He lets out a loud groan. “My beautiful Odyssey.” His fingers work faster, bringing her over the edge. She buries her face in his shoulder to muffle her screams as she comes.

“Ford!” She shouts into the fabric of his shirt. The force of her walls clenching around him brings him to his own orgasm. With a heavy grunt, he finishes inside her. They relax all of their muscles and sit in each other’s arms while they come down from their highs. “Tissue, tissue…” She feels around on the ground for the packet of tissues she always leaves there specifically for moments like this. She awkwardly maneuvers off of his dick and cleans up his semen.

“God, I really needed that.” She slips her panties and shorts back on. Ford lies down, resting his head in her lap. She snakes her fingers through his hair.

“So did I. Seeing my family… it’s always stressful.” He sighs heavily into her stomach. “You’re really getting along with Dipper, aren’t you.”

“He’s a great kid. They’re both great.”

“Yeah, they are,” he says quietly. Being around them must remind him of his own twin brother. Ford never spoke much of him. All that Odyssey knows is that he exists and they’re estranged. She never pushed him to reveal more. God knows she doesn’t want to talk about her family either. 

“The rest of your family I could do without. No offense,” she says in an attempt to lighten the mood. His chuckles vibrate through her stomach.

“I mostly stay in contact with them for the kids. I don’t think I saw any of them for years before the twins were born. I’m sure you’ve noticed why.”

“Yeah, I was ready to fight within minutes of meeting them. Still better than my family, though.” They bask in the comfort of each other for a few minutes, Odyssey gently stroking his gray hair and scratching his scalp. “I guess we should go back to bed.” Ford sits up and pulls Odyssey in for a romantic kiss.

“I love you,” he whispers into her mouth.

“I love you, too.” They stumble out of the car on numb legs and try to go back through the front door without alerting anyone.

“Is everything alright?” A female voice startles them both. It’s Dipper and Mabel’s mom, dressed in a pink robe, staring the two of them down. Luckily, Odyssey can lie on her feet.

“One of our roommates was snoring like a jackhammer. We needed to get away from the noise.” It’s a half truth.

“And what were you doing out there?” She scrutinizes Odyssey and Ford with her eyes.

“We just went for a little walk, Betty. I don’t know how we’re expected to sleep in the same room as whoever that is,” Ford says.

“That’s my cousin. I’ll see about changing the sleeping arrangements for tomorrow night.” They can tell she doesn’t believe them. “Do you need anything, or will you be going back to bed?”

“Back to bed. I think I’m tired enough now to sleep through the sound. Goodnight, um, Betty.” She takes Ford’s hand and drags him back to the room. The room hasn’t quieted down at all. “Aaand he’s still going,” she sighs. They crawl back into bed for a night of awful sleep.

[bloodyinkandquill]

Folly x Reader

grapes are here!! time to munch, also new merch for something i love me and my best friend are going to get each other it as Christmas gifts! we did the same last year for something else we both love, still one of my favorite shirts i have

- How the hell you managed to bag a nine and a half foot tall primordial being is a mystery to everyone, even you in all honesty

- Folly is interesting to say the least, at first she treated you no different then anyone else but as time went on and she begun to take more of an interest in you, and finding that your kindness towards her was genuine, not any sort of trick, slowly she became less cold and malevolent towards you, eventually it got to a point where if you were having a nightmare she’d use her powers to stop it

- Eventually when you do get together, how official it was is up to debate, she still acts the same bit has a certain kindness to her voice, her insults and hate aren’t actually real, she’s just scared to truly let her guard down around anyone, no matter how much she’s beginning to trust you now, you understand and are very patient with her letting her say bad things since you know she doesn’t truly mean them

- Since she’s so large she picks you up like a plushie or teddy bear, it would be funny if you weren’t squirming as she smirked, we’ll you’re assuming she’s smirking, she doesn’t have a mouth so based on her eyes you assume if she could smirk she would be smirking

- Speaking of her lack of mouth she can’t exactly kiss you, she was very against the idea of you kissing her mask at first, it is one of the most vulnerable parts of her, eventually when she grants you permission you cover her entire mask in kisses, you don’t kiss where it broke though for both of you, she gets very flustered by it and disappears in her cloud of smoke, now though she’s more chill with it, it still does fluster his but if you ask if you can kiss her she lets you, and leans down, or stands next to something you can stand in to reach her face without her having to hunch down more then she already done normally

- On top of holding you like a stuffed animal she doesn’t really do small touches, her touches are go big or go home, holding you mostly, especially since her hands are so large small touches are harder, whenever you try and hold hands you just hold one of her fingers instead, or grab the edge of her sweater sleeve, which like her mask she was hesitant about but less so since it wasn’t broken like her mask

- If Folly can’t be around you she watches you through the aspens, it was really creepy at first since you felt like you were being watched then you realized it was her so you when alone will hug the trees as if hugging her to say thanks for watching over you, it doesn’t get less creepy watching the fake pupils on the trees move to follow you though, you will never get used to that

- Her dates aren’t conventional, they still happen but they’re not the usual dates people think of, some are close but not quite, like tending to a garden, granted it’s a forest of aspens in the dark expanse of where she comes from but it’s close enough, or a sleep over, which just means you fall asleep on her and you do something in your dream together, another is baking, that happens at your place which she doesn’t fit in that well and she can’t eat anything you bake but it’s still nice, she helps you bake and gets stuff on herself that you wipe off with a laugh

- She sometimes tells you of how her home use to look like, beautiful and comforting, it was like a dream, till it became a nightmare, you tell her that even if everything’s changed you love her no matter what she’s gone through, and no matter what she still may go through

- You occasionally visit Wallter with her, he’s the closest thing to a friend she has but she almost always sees him in his dreams, so they don’t usually see each other in person, when they do she does her usual thing of being all edgy and brooding but while discussing poetry and listening to piano music, and pretending to drink tea, she lets you actually drink it she just likes to pretend

- Her love language is closest to quality time, granted most of that time is in your dreams, but based on how often she visits them just to be close to you and spend time with you, so your best assumption is quality time

- She knows many languages, comes from being a primordial being, so if you want to speak in another language or need help learning or translating one she can assist you, her favorite language however is any of the slavic languages, which is why she has a Russian accent, so she enjoys teaching you words in Russian, Ukrainian, Polish, etc

- She makes you read her poetry, you don’t get a choice, you don’t mind but it can be inconvenient sometimes if you’re doing something and suddenly she appears telling you to read the newest poem she wrote, she’s really good at it though so it’s not too much of a bother since it’s an enjoyable read, to some degree, it’s very graphic and disturbing on occasion, or a lot of occasions

- She’s cold to the touch, after the cleaving her body no longer produces natural heat, which is a part of the reason she’s such a big cuddle bug, you’re warm and she quite literally parasites that warmth from you, she’s the kind of person to stick her cold ass hands on your exposed back when you aren’t expecting it making you shout at the sudden freezing touch

- Folly thought she’d never be happy again, she was broken, destroyed, used, abused, she never thought she’d ever feel like how she once did, which maybe she never will, but she has truly started feeling better since meeting you, maybe not truly happy but you do make her feel warm, literally and figuratively, so even if she knows she can never go back to that innocence and joy that once was her entire life she’s getting there

i love folly, not as much as mach but i still love her, and holy shit the cleaving was insane, also literally such a good depiction of a certain type of trauma, iykyk, which props to catjam, also just in general for creating folly, anyways imma probably nap, i am not immune to the afternoon naps

[kevindavidday]

i was re-re-re-reading lessons in cartography by profenity (as one does) and i was hit with such an insane affection for andreil suddenly like i was 16 reading the same two people fall for each other and thinking yeah that sure is love and almost a decade later my thoughts haven't changed at all? cause ykw that™ sure is love

[taddymason]

The song Christmas Kids by Roar reminds me of Jay and Kaida in the administration. By allowing Jay to adopt Kaida, the administration was keeping Jay from leaving. (Also I really enjoyed the new chapter of the fic. Very very good. Rest in pieces Cinder)

OMG YOU ARE SO RIGHT

IT FITS SO WELL WITH THE CONTROLLING AND MANIPULATIVE ENVIRONMENT OF THE ADMINISTRATION

how easy it was to keep these two in line, to have two elemental masters working willingly once they realized how much they cared for each other. Once they realized that Jay wanted to stay there with her, all they had to do was easily let her adopt her because they knew that meant neither he nor she was going to leave

Adding this one to the playlist rn

Also thanks you!! ^^ Writing Jay and Kaida beating up Cinder as a team wasn't in my plans for this year but it was one of my favorite moments to write and illustrate.

[sysig]

Pivotal bright spot (Patreon)

[thatgirlonstage]

Thinks about arms outstretched and has to lie facedown on the ground for nine hours again