#unsavory maneuverings!

[noosayog]

THE NATURE OF LONGING

fushiguro (zenin) toji x fem!reader

contents: NSFW, non-curse au, arranged marriage, both toji and reader have terrible parents, mutual pining, sexual tension, afab! reader, dry humping, grinding, fingering, nipple play, clitoral play, oral (f receiving), overstim, pet names, fluff, angst. MDNI

wc: 5.9k

part 2 | series masterlist here

The two of you settle into a semi-regular routine of watching TV together on the couch after Toji cooks dinner. Toji will tease you for your choices in shows and movies or joke about watching an R-rated movie. He learns his lesson after you fix him with a glare, simply shutting up and watching your pick. 

Tonight, a movie plays as you and Toji sit on opposite sides of the couch, each of your thighs pressed against either armrests. 

A couple minutes in, Toji notices you shivering underneath your throw blankets. He laughs quietly. 

“What?” you say defensively. “It’s cold.” 

“Are you just looking for an excuse to cuddle, princess?” 

“You wish, perv. You’re just looking for an excuse to cop a feel.” 

After the night you kissed, Toji noticed a shift in your demeanor. You still argue, but your words are delivered with less heat. It’s less venomous bite and more teasing banter. At least he’s started to interpret it that way. Whenever you entertain his teasing, he swears you feel the sexual tension too. Multiple times, he’s come close to calling you out for using snark as your foreplay. 

Alas, he restrains from being too vulgar. He hasn’t yet tamed the possibility of violence out of you yet. 

“Promise I won’t do anything unsavory,” he says, holding his arms out to you, his chest beckoning. 

You fix him with a look. 

“Nothing too unsavory,” he corrects himself. 

“As if you can help yourself,” you huff. 

He chuckles, unruffled. “C’mon, don’t be difficult about this.” 

In one motion, he pulls you to sit between his legs. The touching has become too normal. Toji secretly relishes in knowing you find some kind of comfort in his touch. Though you protest, your body language always gives you away when you sag against him. He can read you like a book. 

He takes the blanket from you and winds it, along with his biceps, around your waist, hunching over your entire frame. Toji grins as you lean into his chest. 

You pinch his arm. “Shut up.” 

He holds tighter. “Yes, ma’am.” 

As the movie plays, Toji feels your head lolling side to side in a sleepy haze, only finding slight comfort when it awkwardly finds a spot on Toji’s sternum. He maneuvers to lay down: him on his back and you splayed out on your stomach on top.

When you rouse slightly, Toji freezes. You don’t wake, however. You snuggle closer into his chest and move your legs to straddle one of his thighs. 

Smirking ever so slightly at your touch starved actions, he makes a mental note to remember to tease you for it in the morning. He shifts a bit to accomodate for your movements, hands coming up to caress your waist. 

His thumb brushes against the sliver of skin where your shirt rides up and you shiver on his chest. Your back arches instinctively to get closer to your source of warmth, only ending up with you pressing your hips into his. A pathetic mewl escapes your lips, so quiet he almost misses it. 

Toji comes to a full stop.

His hands squeeze at the fat of your hips experimentally and this time he hears it loud and clear. 

A pitiful little moan of his name. 

“Fuck,” he mutters to himself. 

Your hips start moving, as if a knee-jerk reaction to Toji’s boner beginning to press into your tummy. 

Toji calls your name. And again with more urgency, but you simply mumble his name again. 

It’s torture, waiting for you to wake but you do, slowly blinking the sleep out of your eyes and Toji can’t help but think even your eyelashes fluttering is sexy. 

“Toji? Oh!” you exclaim when you realize your positioning. You scramble to get off of Toji, but one of your knees slips off the couch, forcing you to brace your hands on the couch beneath Toji’s armpits, his hands coming up to your waist to steady you. His big hands cover almost half your torso and you’re hyper aware that his thumbs are digging into the underside of your tits. 

That’s when you notice the heat in your leggings. Your stumble caused your clothed crotch to settle on top of Toji’s thigh. The press of his thick thigh against your sensitive center makes you squeeze your legs together subconsciously, realizing too late that his thigh between your legs is the only thing that offers you some friction. 

Toji watches, completely enthralled, as your eyes widen. He can almost see the thoughts racing through your brain. And having you here, laying on top of him, so apparently mortified, makes something swell up in his chest. He crooks his knee upwards to press harder against you. 

You fall back onto his chest, whimpering a sweet moan against his ear. 

That’s all it takes for Tojji to use his grip on your waist to push you harder against his leg. He bounces his thigh lightly, nudging harder at your heated cunt. 

You wind your arms around his neck, leaning all your weight on his torso and hiding your face in his neck. Your hips are rolling against his thigh to work for your own release. Toji lets go of your hips to slide his hands into your leggings. He squeezes the globes of your ass, kneading them and spreading them rhythmically with your thrusts to grant your pussy maximum access to him. 

“Mm! Toji wait-” 

“Wait? You’re the one moving on your own, sweetheart.” 

“No, I’m not!” 

“Mhm,” he responds disbelievingly, patronizingly. “Such a good girl.” 

He feels your arms tighten around his neck. 

“You like that? You like being called a good girl?” 

“Toji, I’m gonna-”

“Gonna cum? From just a little grinding?” 

“Toji! I can’t, I can’t. It’s not enough, please-” 

Toji pushes a hand lower into your leggings to brush a finger against your slit, grazing against it. “C’mon, sweetheart, cum for me.” 

His one finger ghosting your bare pussy sends jolts up your body, hips twitching every time his finger slides ever so slightly against your lower lips. You finally come apart, spilling into your panties. You pant against Toji’s neck while he continues to kneed at your ass. 

Your shaky mouthing against his pulse point almost sends him into a frenzy, distracting himself by squeezing harder and pressing hot kisses against your temple. He breathes a laugh against the crown of your head and the condensation from his breath sends another round of shivers down your body that Toji feels with precision. 

“That was hot, princess.” 

When you finally push up to meet his eyes, he grins. Toji slips his hands out from your leggings. He brings his fingers, glistening from your essence, to his mouth, sucking them clean all while maintaining eye contact with you. 

“Toji!” you squeal, embarrassed beyond belief. He only finishes cleaning off his fingers before leaning up, intending to kiss you. 

However, you avert your face, pushing up to get up. 

“Wait, princess-”

You dart away to the safety of your room, squeaking out a sorry and slamming the door. Never mind his raging boner, he flops back onto the couch with a heavy arm thrown over his face. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, trying to figure out how he’s going to talk himself out of this one. 

-

Your presence is noticeably absent until the following evening. He cooks dinner as usual, trying not to think about you when he hears the front door open. Toji busies himself chopping the onions so as not to give away that he has been anxiously awaiting your return. When you enter the kitchen, you say nothing. You hop to sit onto the counter close enough to where he is working, hands tightly clasped together, so obviously wanting to broach the topic at hand. 

“Hey, welcome home.”

“I’m home,” you say, not meeting his gaze. 

“Dinner’s almost ready,” he says, going back to his onions. “You want any?” 

You look up, surprised. It’s a conversation the two of you have had many times: he’s offering you an out. 

“Oh, um, yeah,” you stutter. “Please,” you tack on. 

“Coming right up, sweetheart.” 

The corner of his eye picks up your shoulders sagging and your hands coming apart to rest on either side of your thighs.

“So how was your day?” you ask, relieved to not have to talk about last night after all. 

This makes Toji startle, knife hovering over the onion, eyes comically widening. “You care?” He asks incredulously. Dropping the knife, Toji saunters over to you, hips caging you in, and holds the back of his palm against your forehead. “You got a fever that burned through your brain or something?” 

You smack his hand away, “shut up! Just wanted to be civil for once, but I guess I shouldn’t have bothered-” 

His chuckle interrupts your rant. “My day was good, sweetheart. And you? You thought about how I made you cum in your pants last night?” 

“Toji!” 

His devilish grin morphs into one of amusement when your legs start to swing adorably from where they dangle off the counter. Toji allows his palms to rest on your hands on either side of your thighs, leaning forward to mouth at your collarbone. 

He expects you to smack him away, but you crane your neck to give him access. 

“Mmm, Toji,” you moan. 

He licks and kisses up to your earlobe. “You hungry?”

You hum, thoughts of dinner a million miles away. Toji revels in the effect he has on you. 

“Me too,” Toji says, abruptly pulling away. “Dinner will be ready in a minute.”

The smirk that threatens to show itself is so hard to stamp down when he sees your dazed expression, beginnings of a pout blooming on your lips at Toji’s sudden withdrawal. 

Ever the sore loser, you shake his lingering scent from your head, resisting the urge to rub your thighs together for some relief. 

“I’m gonna go shower before dinner,” you say, hopping off the counter. 

“Can I join?” 

You flash him your middle finger on your way out, smiling when you hear his belly laugh. 

After dinner, you do the dishes as Toji settles on the couch to pick something to fall asleep to. He has sports highlights on when you join him, rolling your eyes and grabbing the remote to switch it over. He just lays still, saying nothing. You pick a sitcom to put on for background noise before moving to sit on your designated side. Toji grabs your hand to stop you, eyes still on the screen. He reclines from his upright position to lay on his back, waiting for you with open arms. Without protest, you slump in a heap onto his body, giggling at the “oof” pushed from his throat. His arms come up naturally to stroke your back. 

“You got a thing for this, huh?” 

You feel the heat return to your cheeks when you remember what had happened last time the two of you were in this position. When Toji laughs, you realize you love feeling the rumbles rippling through this chest and hearing the sound so close to your ears. 

As the show plays, you shuffle around to get comfortable, surprising yourself by how unbothered you are when you start to feel his cock getting harder under you and when his hands slip down to start kneading your ass. 

The heat of his growing erection presses against your pussy, almost as if it was his warm hands cupping you down there. Imagining it makes your cunt clench. 

Toji doesn’t take it any further though, content just touching. That’s when you rest your elbows on Toji’s chest, propping your head up on your palms to look at him. 

“Toji?” you ask. 

“Hmm?” 

“What are you and your parents like?” 

He tears his eyes from the TV to glance down at you. “Why do you ask?” 

“You’ve seen me with mine. Just wanna know about you too.” 

Toji’s eyes go back to the screen as he thinks about his answer. Not because this is a sensitive topic, but only because he truly is indifferent. The years of their neglect and callousness have stripped away any remaining affection or hope he may hold for them. 

“They’re like yours. Shitty parents, just waiting to sell me off.” 

You listen empathetically. 

“But I came to terms with it a long time ago. Just like this… situation we’re in. I’ve known for a long time they’d marry me off when the time came.” 

“How can you stand it? They’re supposed to love us, aren’t they?” 

Your eyes start to water and it makes Toji’s heart ache. He gives your ass a big squeeze. “I know. And I used to feel the way you do… but I’ve just lived a bit longer than you – realized earlier there was no point in wasting time, wishing they’d come to their senses.” He sighs. “I’ve had a long time to stop wishing for a dead plant to come back to life.” 

“That’s so sad,” you sniffle. 

“Hey,” he wipes a tear away. “You’re not alone in this, okay? You got me now. I ain’t going anywhere. We’re married.” 

You stiffen just a bit at that, relaxing only when his fingers start to rub soothing circles on your cheek. “It’s not like you chose me, though. You could’ve married anyone else if mine wasn’t the first file your parents saw.” 

“True,” he agrees. “But no point in thinking about the could’ve’s, should’ve’s, would’ve’s now. And anyway, I think you’re forgetting something.”

You listen raptly. 

“Even before I knew I’d be marrying you, I always thought you were hot, especially when you’d scream at me in your cute little pajama shorts.” 

You give him a little smack. He can hear you scolding him to be serious. “Liar. You hated me,” you say. 

He tuts. “Uh uh, sweetheart. I think that was just you. I've wanted to get in your pants since day one.” 

“Really?” you rise to gaze at him with starry eyes. “You weren’t unhappy to marry me?” 

Toji swears he has hearts in his eyes when he sees how you hang onto his every word. 

“What’s with all the self-doubt tonight, princess? I know you felt how hard I got from just kissing and touching you.” 

“Toji!” you scold, embarrassed. “I’m being serious!” 

“So am I. I wouldn’t touch up on anyone just because we got hitched.” 

“So you did it because it was me?” 

“You know the answer to that. Now, any other questions?” 

You shake your head, plopping it back down to press your cheek against his pecs, listening to his heart beat. 

When you pinch the closest part of him every time his hands slow, sighing in pleasure when they resume their possessive touch on your bare skin, it’s all over for Toji. In the sweetest way possible.

-

It’s a lazy sunday afternoon for Toji when he finally emerges from his room, yawning the sleep from his eyes and scratching lazily at his stomach. He finds you sitting on the floor of the living room, back resting against the foot of the couch. Your legs are folded criss-cross, making your shorts ride up and exposing even more of your thighs. Before you notice him, he slips quietly behind you, shushing your noises of protest when he inserts himself between you and the couch. He pushes his back against the couch while spreading his legs on either side of you, hunching over to engulf you with his entire body. You sigh at his warmth, content to go back to your book. 

Toji dozes off on your shoulders for a bit, but the scent of your shampoo and strawberry body wash invades his drowsy mind. He feels his dick twitch in his sweats and surely you do as well, because you begin squirming, accidentally pushing closer to his growing hard on. 

“Toji, your-” 

“Yeah,” he hums, beginning to kiss and suck marks on your neck. You shut your eyes and enjoy the warmth his palms are spreading. 

The hands circling your waist start to explore, one coming up to tickle under your breasts and the other sliding slowly down. He lightly squeezes the flesh around your tummy, making you squirm. You still instantly, mouth opening in a circle and head lolling back onto his shoulder when his hand suddenly circles your right tit and squeezes roughly. 

“Toji-” 

“No bra? Were you waiting for me to touch you?” he murmurs, voice still scratchy from sleep. He doesn’t allow you to deny it when he roughly squeezes your tit again before shoving his hand under your shirt to touch them bare. He continues his ministrations on your breasts for a bit, purposely avoiding your nipples until you start whining. 

“This is in the way,” he says before roughly tugging your tight little tank top up to expose your tits. The other hand joins in to give the other mound of flesh a good knead as he starts to ghost a finger around your nipple. The circles he draws around your nipples get tighter and tighter until his fingers finally touch you where you want him. He gives each nipple a flick before tugging gently at them. 

“Ohhh, Toji,” you breathe. 

“Such beautiful tits.” 

After he’s had his fill of touching your boobs, his hands travel down to wear you need relief most. He toys with the hem of your booty shorts occasionally letting his fingers hook into your panties without ever fully touching. 

“Toji, ah, please…” 

“Sound so fucking sweet, begging for me.” 

Each moan that is pulled from your lips is rewarded with a brush of his fingers against your slit. 

“Fuck, baby. You are dripping. Got wet from just me touching your tits?” 

“Toji, please! Just touch me,” you beg. 

“Whatever my baby wants,” he whispers into your ear. 

One big hand cups your entire pussy, big fingers teasing up and down over your clothed cunt. 

“S’not enough. Want your fingers inside!” 

Toji almost moans. He manhandles your legs from their initial position pretzeled over each other to each leg propped over his knees. The new position forces your cunt open and the shifting of your panties over your sensitive hole tears a whimper from your throat. Shoving your drenched panties and shorts to the side, he finally gives you what you want and pushes his middle finger into your cunt. The other hand comes back up to give your hard nipples some attention. 

“This what you want, princess?” 

“Mmmm, more!” 

He adds another finger to your sopping hole, starting to pick up the pace and grind his palm into your clit with each thrust. “Such a good little slut, taking my fingers, getting so wet for me.” 

Your insides clench and Toji curses. 

“You like being called a slut? Or you like being praised?” 

Your back arches further with each thrust. “Both! I like both, Toji!” 

“Yeah?” he drawls, adding a third finger and starting to jackhammer into your cunt. 

“Ah, oh! Toji, please, don’t stop! Gonna cum, gonna cum-”

“Bet you are, can feel your little cunt clenching. C’mon then, cum all over my fingers.” 

“Oh, fuck,” you scream, creaming all over Toji’s fingers. He thrusts several more times, then removes his fingers to rub tight, frantic circles over your clit to prolong your orgasm.

“Toji! Please, stop, ‘m so sensitive. I can’t!” 

“Yeah you can, baby. Cum with your clit, I’ll make you feel so good.” 

Your hands come up to squeeze your own tits, teasing your own nipples as you chase your second high. The sight almost makes Toji bust in his pants. 

“T- Toji! I’m cumming!” 

You reach your second peak, wildly jerking your hips against Toji’s fingers and jaw going slack. 

Coming down from your high, you rest your head against Toji’s neck, letting his hand explore your body. Your pants warm his pulse point and Toji’s chest swells with pride. 

“You were such a good girl, cumming twice on my fingers. Bet you’d let me eat that sweet pussy out, huh?” 

“Mmm,” you moan, angling your face up for a kiss. Toji indulges you, pressing innocent pecks all over your face then to your lips. You whine when he keeps his lips shut, licking his scar, a habit Toji notices you’ve picked up. Toji loves the attention, prolonging the moment. He opens his lips for a second but closes them when he feels your tongue greedily pushing through. 

“Toji, please, wanna kiss you…” 

Toji groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Your submission has his cock throbbing through his sweats. He manhandles you onto the couch, lifting your body by the waist and throwing your legs over his shoulders. Your shorts hit the ground and he presses his nose against your clothed pussy, inhaling deeply. 

“You smell so fuckin good.” 

“Toji!” you cry out, pushing at his head to try to keep him away. “S’embarrassing.” 

“Nu uh, sweetheart.” He makes his displeasure for your resistance known by grabbing a fistful of your damp panties, pulling them up so that the fabric disappears into your slit, rubbing against where you need him most. 

You arch against the feeling, letting out high pitched squeals. “Ah- Oh- To-” 

Toji gives the material a few more cruel tugs before using a finger to dig it out. You let a pornographic moan fly when Toji starts lapping at your leaking cunt through the fabric. His tongue pushes in and out, not forgetting to come up to circle your hard clit. 

“Need more, Toji!” 

“Mhmm,” he hums against your pussy. “Tell me what you need, baby.” 

“Need to feel it!” 

“Hmm?” he purrs, letting the vibrations of his voice do it’s thing on you. 

“Wanna feel your tongue on my - oh!” 

Giving in, he pulls your panties down in one sweeping motion and starts fucking you with his tongue. 

“Ahhh! Toji, more! Yes, oh, right there!” 

“Ride my tongue, baby. Want to feel you cum on my tongue.” 

You obey, rolling your hips desperately against Toji’s lolled out tongue. “S’not enough! I can’t- please, please, Toji!” 

His hand comes up to start rubbing feverish circles over your clit to help you. Your back arches off the couch and your gyrating becomes erratic. With one light slap to your clit, your eyes fly open and you scream with your release. Toji continues to lap into the folds of your leaking cunt, drinking up your lewd fluids. 

“Ohh, you taste so fucking good, princess.”

“Toji, stop- please- oh my fucking, I’m gonna cum again!” 

When you try to squirm away, his arms roughly snake under your hips to push your center into his face. He’s relentless, sucking and licking you through your orgasm. Another slap to your cunt sends you into another spiraling orgasm. 

Toji’s licks become gentle, helping you through your fourth climax as one warm hand rubs tenderly at the fat of your drooling lips. 

When he finally parts with your pussy, you look down to see his mouth, cheeks, and chin glistening with your cum. He releases your ass and you sit up on your elbows to meet him for a kiss. He gives you a delicate kiss, staining your tongue with the taste of his saliva and your own release. You moan at the taste, breath stuttering when you feel his boner pressing against your sensitive lower lips. 

Your hands come down shakily to palm him through his pants. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, that feels good.” 

You rub harder, trailing your hands down the underside of his cock. Toji hisses when you brush his balls. You’re enthralled by the pleasure all over his face as you slide up and down his erection through his pants. Your fingers circle the tip playfully, pushing at where you know his opening would be leaking pre-cum. 

“Stop,” he hisses. 

You don’t listen, continuing to tease the tip, giggling as you listen to his low groans. 

“Enough,” he utters, grabbing your hands and holding them above your head. “Wanna make me feel good, sweetheart?” 

You nod, looking up at him through wet lashes. 

“Bet you do. But all you’re getting is this today.” 

Toji then presses his clothed erection against your throbbing cunt. He starts grinding his hips against yours, the outline of his cock sliding between the fat of your pussy. The remains of your previous orgasm wet his sweats in no time and the friction feel so good. 

“Bet you can come like this, huh? Don’t even need my dick inside to come? Show me then, baby. Show me how you come from just some humping.” 

He starts thrusting harder, your pussy clenching around nothing. Toji’s free hand flicks at your nipple while his lips sucks the other nub into his mouth. His tongue swirls over the hard tip as he continues to move his hips. With a bite of your nipple, you scream one last time, feeling the slick flow out of your bottom lips. You hear the low drag of his voice when he groans out, “fuuuck.” 

Toji releases your arms, allowing you to watch breathlessly as he parts from you. A string of your slick connects your cunt and Toji’s pants as he pulls away. You see the dark spot in Toji’s pants spread. 

“You.. came?” you ask dumbly. 

Toji’s grin is feral as he watches you stare at the receding tent in his pants. He flips you over so you’re resting your entire weight on him, tired pussy resting perfectly over the wet spot. “Fuck yeah baby, that was so hot. Could cum listening to you moan all day.” 

You collapse onto his chest, giving it a weak smack. “Perv.” 

He presses a light kiss on the crown of your head. “You love it.” 

-

Toji isn’t surprised when his phone rings with the Zenin on the other side of the line. In fact, he’s been thinking it was way past time for them to check in, make sure he’s doing his part in keeping the union between the families strong. 

He almost smirks as he picks up the phone, smugly thinking of how he had you boneless on the couch only earlier that afternoon. Imagine his surprise when the Zenin address him with a sense of urgency, notifying him of rumors of your family’s recent talks to unite with the Gojos. To his knowledge, you were an only child and he certainly hasn’t heard of any close cousins in your clan. He asks for clarity, not letting his panic take over, but they have no further information: only that they have heard talk of your family meeting secretly with the elders of the Gojo family. Toji hangs up with unease.

His suspicions are confirmed when your parents drop by without warning the following day. You’re out, which he relays to them, but they stay in the doorway. 

“We’re here to speak with you.”

Toji lets them in, making them tea as a dutiful son-in-law would. Your mother accepts the tea, but immediately places it on the table without taking a sip. Your father forgoes formalities altogether.

“Let us be honest, Zenin,” your father starts. “We have been offered an engagement with the son of the Gojo family.” 

“Well,” your mother says pleasantly. “The Gojo family is a very prestigious family. It would be silly of us to pass up on the offer.” Her head tilts ever so slightly, flashing a small smile. “You understand, don’t you?” 

Toji’s head swims. “And the union with the Zenin house…” 

Your mother places one manicured hand on his knee. “I’m sure you can find someone much more suitable for you than our daughter.” 

“Our clan has a distant cousin, close to our daughter in age, you can marry. We will discuss this with the Zenin to ensure no lost love between our two families,” you father finishes. 

“And you may not know this but…” your mother continues. “...our daughter used to be entangled with the Gojo son, but the engagement fell through when they parted. This is the perfect opportunity for the two to reunite their flame. It would be a shame to keep young ones in love apart, especially for reasons so grotesque as family ties, wouldn’t you agree?” 

“... your daughter and Gojo Satoru have history?” Toji asks dumbly.

“Why, yes!” your mother exclaims. “They were the most picturesque couple. Their parting was such a shame, but it simply must be destiny offering them another chance,” she rambles. 

“Enough,” your father cuts in. He places a stack of papers on the table, motioning for Toji to look. Divorce papers. 

“This is all we wanted to discuss today. Please consider the offer and we will be back another day to collect.” Your father says. “We truly do see this as a most favorable option for all parties.” He speaks as if it’s a done deal, as final as it had been the day the two of you signed the marriage forms in the first place. 

There’s nothing Toji can say back as they leave him with pleased, closed-lipped smiles and assurances of a strong bond between the two families going forward. Having said all they need to say, your parents depart, leaving Toji with the blank divorce form. 

The hours tick by as he sits on the couch, staring blankly at the two untouched cups of tea that have long gone cold. Of all the information he received, he’s not sure where to start processing – your history with Gojo, that you’ve been secretly meeting with him, if you’ve known about your parents’ schemes, the divorce. 

The thoughts continue to plague him that night, ringing loudly in his head. Amplified with the silence in the house and the absence of your presence. 

He awakens the next morning to the incessant ringing of his phone. His groggy voice answers the call – from his parents – and is greeted with a hysterical tirade from his mother. She screams something of the pride of the Zenin family, how dare they so blatantly show their preference for the Gojos, Toji zones out the rest. His ears perk up when they start talking about you. 

“... happening today!”

“What,” Toji sits up. “Today? The divorce forms haven’t even been signed yet.” He rushes out to scan the house for any signs of you; he would rather hear the answer from you than his rotten family. 

“Today!” his mother shouts over the line. 

You are still nowhere to be found and dread creeps into his stomach at the idea that you had spent the night out. Where? This was supposed to be your home. 

He hastily gets the location of your omiai with Gojo Satoru, his mother leaving him with a warning that he better fix this. 

Upon his arrival at the restaurant, he storms through the private rooms, leaving no screendoor unturned. They all yield empty tables and groups he does not recognize, to his relief. At the last door, he takes a deep breath before sliding the screendoor open, praying that he won’t find you behind the door. 

His stomach drops when the last door reveals you sitting across from the white-haired man he recognizes as Gojo Satoru. 

Their eyes turn to you, yours widening in shock. 

“Toji-” 

Unwelcome betrayal floods his heart as he steels his expression into one of an ice cold glacier. 

“I’m no relationship expert,” Toji cuts with venom. “But even I know it’s bad taste to be meeting with an ex behind your husband’s back, don’tcha think, sweetheart?” 

“Toji, it’s not what you think-” 

“Then you wanna explain what the fuck is going on here?” 

“Well, I think it’s pretty self explanatory, no, Zenin?” Gojo drawls, lips curling into a smirk. 

Tojis eyes narrow. If looks could kill. 

“You,” he points to you. “Come with me.” 

“Toji, I can’t…” 

He’s incredulous. “Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?” 

“I was under the impression that her parents explained everything pretty clearly yesterday,” Gojo shrugs. 

“Satoru, please,” you say to him. 

“‘Satoru’?” 

You look at him with wide eyes. It’s incriminating. 

“So it’s true then. You knew everything?” Toji asks, but it comes out like a statement. “Come. here.” he grits out to you. It’s the last chance he would give you. 

You don’t take it, only looking down. In a small voice, you mutter, “I can’t. Our parents will be back any second.” 

“Oh for fucks sake, forget about your parents for one fucking minute will you?” 

“I… I can’t, Toji. Maybe you’re used to doing that with your family, but I can’t disobey mine like that.” 

So you’re choosing them over me? He wants to demand of you. But his pride stops him. He won’t beg. He certainly won’t be doing that in front of Gojo Satoru. He takes a few steps back, as if physically putting some distance between you would make this better. 

That’s when he steps back into someone – your parents, along with the Gojo elders.

“Zenin Toji,” the Gojo head bellows. “What do you think you are doing here?” 

He recovers quickly, lips curling into a smile that looks more like he’s baring his teeth. “Nothing much,” he feigns nonchalance. “Just thought I’d stop by to see what kinda schemes your snakey family has been up to. Never thought I’d see adultery added to that list though.” 

“Toji-san-” 

“Don’t worry, though. I’ll make this real easy for all of you.” He turns to you, addressing you in a cold tone he has never used on you before. “The papers will be waiting for you at home, my half signed. It’s not in my nature to stand in between two lovers, so I wish you all the best,” he spits the word lovers, before turning on his heel. 

He forces himself to keep his strides even, even as he hears you shout his name. 

The walk home does not cool his head. Inside the house, though it was only for a short while, he is reminded of you everywhere. 

His expectations for his family had died years ago; there was no hope for that. From then on, he had trained himself to exercise the same doubt on all his relationships. Surely, if his own birth parents could not come to love him, there is no guarantee anyone else could. 

With you, Toji had let his expectations of you, of your relationship, go unchecked. He had been tricked. You had always acted more of the victim in this, ever the sad, pitiful one. You had played the role so well that Toji was the one who felt guilty. And you took that weakness of his, placed your hands into the cracks to force open a chasm. 

This entire time, Toji had thought you a pitiful, neglected daughter, desperate for love, forced into an unwanted marriage with someone you hated. It seems that in reality, the only crime inflicted upon you, was not being married, but rather being married to the wrong person. 

He can only laugh at himself in scorn. He could remember giving you a lecture on the couch about how to give up on false hope and expectations for people who were bound to betray you – the irony of the situation. It seems he had been the one to harbor false hope this entire time. And like a fool, he had allowed his growing affection for you blind him, deluding himself into thinking you hold feelings for him too. 

Toji signs the forms and leaves them in plain sight on the tea table. 

Unable to stand another second in the space haunted with your touch, he flees, intending to keep away until every trace of you is gone. 

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Heavyweight: Chaggie

Buckle up, Buttercups! This is a bit long. Google translate will be your friend.

Charlie: (exiting her office after a 72 hour video meeting and bee-lining towards the bar) UggGHhghhhHHh!!!! I need a DRINK!!!

Alastor: (whirling in out of nowhere) I wouldn't go in there if I were you.

Charlie: (jumps) Holy Shit!!! Fuck! Alastor, can you not do that, please? You nearly gave me a heart attack.

Alastor: So sorry, dear. I'm just warning you before you go anywhere that the bar is in quite the unsavory state right now.

Charlie: What do you mean? Did Cherri invite her biker friends again?

Alastor: Oh, heavens, no! That little manager of yours would never allow that to happen again.

Charlie: Alastor, we've talked about this. Her name is Vaggie. But why is the bar in an unsavory state?

Alastor: (grins wider) Oh, I suppose you'll just have to see it to believe it, I'm afraid. (opens the door to the bar and latin music blares through the hotel)

Charlie: Alastor, I really don't have the mental fortitude to deal with your bipolar-

-Record Screech-

Charlie: -WHY IS VAGGIE BENCHING THE POOL TABLE IN NOTHING BUT A BRA AND HER SKIRT?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

Hazbins: GO!!! GO!!! GO!!! GO!!! GO!!!

Husker: (counting off Vaggie's reps) Forty-eight! Forty-nine! FIFTY!!!! That's it! Vaggie wins!!!

Vaggie: HA!!! (flips the pool table off to the side and stands up victoriously while speaking Spanish) ¡Toda la razón! ¡Paga, Ángel!

Hazbins: (half cheering and half groaning as money exchanges hands and a few lift Vaggie up like a champion)

Angel: (drunkenly slurring in Italian)

Charlie: And WHY are they speaking like that?!

Alastor: (cleaning his monocle) Ms. Vagatha found out that Angel took a video of your drunken stupor last week and demanded he give all copies to her. He said he would only do it if she out drank him.

Charlie: Again. Not her name. And WHAT?!?!?!?!

Alastor: Needless to say, that woman would do anything for you, so they went shot for shot on something called "tequila". Quite the show, if I say so myself. Angel ended up vomiting in the trash can. They've been arguing in Spanish and Italian ever since. It's almost friendly at this point.

Charlie: BUT WHY IS VAGGIE HALF NAKED?!?!?!?!?!

Alastor: (obviously disgusted by the display but keeping his smile) She didn't want to rip her uniform.

Vaggie: (spots Charlie from her elevated position)

¡Charlie, mi amor!

Charlie: (arrow to the heart as she watches Vaggie hop down and strut over to her, eyes zeroed in on the sway of her girlfriend's hips) Oh, fuck..... I'm in trouble....

Vaggie: (hugs Charlie tight before taking her hand and kissing it) ¿Cómo estuvo tu reunión?

Charlie: (gets goosebumps and blushes) UuuUuUhhhHHHhhh.... V-Vaggie, babe, y-you know I'm not good with my Spanish yet.

Vaggie: Lo sé. (chuckles deeply and looks at Charlie through her long lashes as she snakes her arm around Charlie's waist while the other hand strokes her thumb over Charlie's pulse on her wrist) También sé que te gusta cuando te hablo así en español.

Charlie: (blushing deeper as she wiggles out of her suit jacket and wraps it around Vaggie's shoulders) L-Let's get you covered up.

Vaggie: (smirking as she traces her fingers around the waistband of Charlie's trousers and gently untucks her shirt so she can drag her fingers across the pale skin underneath) Eres tan dulce… y tan sexy cuando te sonrojas.

Charlie: (feels her tail and horns spring up as Vaggie's nails drag across the skin of her hip and tries to corral Vaggie towards the door) OH-KAY!!! L-Let's get you upstairs to bed!

Vaggie: (maneuvers herself so she's escorting Charlie up the stairs leading to their room and uses her wings so that she can hover right next to Charlie's ear from behind) Only if you join me~

Charlie: (thighs pinch together as a spark of electricity jolts through her body and whines) ...oh fuck....

Vaggie: Now, you're catching on~

[thesassypadawan]

Deep Forest (Jacob x FemHalfDemonReader)

Summary: You’d overheard in your travels of a strong creature…a hulking being that wanders the forest trails at twilight, seeking out easy marks.  Begged and paid handsomely by the local villagers to exterminate this demon, you set the perfect trap…offering yourself as bait.  However you’re taken by surprise when your prey turns out to a very handsome human man…one that awakens a side of you that had long been buried.  (Story and reader are somewhat inspired by one of my favorite animes, InuYasha)

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there’s sooo much of the smut.  Riding (giddy up), somewhat public smex, marking, fight for power/power imbalance, and… Jacob’s long, fat dick.

- Shrugging, slipping out of your black bodysuit.  You let it fall silently to the forest floor, landing amongst your discarded armor and pack.  Rustle  Stretching lazily, inhaling the crisp mountain air.  You discreetly take in your surroundings.  Crackle   Faint breeze coming from the east, causing the spring’s surface to ripple.  Bringing the tangy scent of fruit mixed with sweet flowers.  Hints of musk, fresh sweat.  Crunch

- A twig snaps somewhere behind, ringing throughout the clearing.  You don’t react initially, opting instead to let your prey think it still has the upper hand.  To allow it to draw closer, just enough so you’re able to…

- Leaves shift.  The chitter of birdsong falls quiet, but only for a brief moment as…

- Fingers automatically thread themselves into your weapon’s leather binding.  Swinging it with trained ease, bringing it around to bear the weight…block what you sense would be a blow to your right shoulder.  However the attacker maneuvers to the left at the last moment; kicking out, sweeping your legs from underneath you.

- The two of tumble across the cold, hard ground.  Thin blade slashes, misses your now dirt and mud-covered flesh by mere inches.  Evading and rolling, you protect yourself to the best of your ability.  Even landing a few well-placed hits with the blunt, curved edge of your boomerang.  As you easily disarm one another, grappling for dominance in a passionate dance.  One that will only end in one of two ways…life or death. 

- Or…perhaps…maybe…

- Straddling your attacker’s hips, you stare down at the naked man beneath you.  Your shallow pants melding along with his; forming an almost soothing, erotic melody.  Rising and drifting towards the purple, orange skies.  “Who are you?”

- Although your question was more of a demand; it was still simple, straight to the point.  Yet he only stares up at you silently.  Blue eyes glazed over, something wild flickering deep within them.

- In retrospect, you probably shouldn’t have won this fight.  The man clearly stood a good head taller than you.  Most likely outweighing you as well by a considerable amount.  His body toned, heavily corded with powerful muscles.  That flex, contort beneath you.  Testing your balance, your grip around his thick neck.  While radiating a warmth that leeches into your thighs, causes…

- Stomach clenches, hips cant unconsciously.  “What, too embarrassed to say?  Upset that you were bested by a woman?”  Sharpened nails scratch at, sink slightly into the vulnerable curve of his throat.  “Thought I would be an easy mark…roll onto my back, part my legs for you like some spineless bitch?”

- A curious shudder vibrates through his form, sneer curling at the corners of his mouth.   “Mmmh, I was hoping so…”  Considerable length, twitching and swelling.  Hardening, pressing more firmly against your groin.  “It’s been a long time since I’ve had something pretty like you…”

- Breath catches, the coil inside your core tightens.  You should be repulsed, put off  by his unsavory choice of words and actions.  But there’s something about it; coupled with having such a strong, large being pinned down…helpless, under your control.  That was oddly arousing, that awoke a side of yourself which…

- Head tilts to the side; a predatory, feral smile spreads across your face.  “Is that so?”  Impulsively you start to rock; rubbing yourself teasingly, slowly.  The friction delicious, tantalizing.  “Maybe we can come to an agreement then…?”

- “Jacob,” he hisses through his teeth.  Cock jerking and twitching.  Smacking your stomach gently, smearing his pearly essence where your eager and fertile womb lay hidden.  “What might you have in mind…?”

- Picking up your pace, grinding against him harder.  “I go by many names.  Beast.  Abomination.  Half-breed.  Demon.”  Fighting your baser instincts to not whine, beg him to take you right then.  Fill you with…  “As for my real one though…I’ll only grace you with it if you get the job done.”

- His eyebrows rose slightly, adam’s apple bobbed between your spread fingers.  “A job, eh?”  The smell of his excitement, the opium running through his veins making your nostrils flare…mouth water.  “Care to elaborate more?”

- Lifting your hips, leaning forward.  You line up your aching, soaked core with his bulbous, dripping tip.  “It’s simple really.  You give me a litter; a substantial, strong one…”  All the while keeping your gleaming eyes trained on him…hand still fast in place around his neck.  “I’ll give you an experience that you’ve never encountered before.  Not even in your wildest fantasies…”

- “Ah, but what if I refuse?”  He grunts, fingertips digging furrows in the wet soil beneath him…thighs trembling with anticipation under you.  “Or what if I present to you a counter offer instead?”

- Nudging, allowing his head to slip past your tight rim.  “Then it better be a good one.”  Needy, desperate mewl falling from your lips.  “Less you want me to leave your body here for the other predators to feast upon…”  Quickly transforms into a soft growl of warning.  “…to rot here for eternity, in the deep forest.”

- Boldly, he grabs your sides.  Squeezes, kneads the supple flesh.  “Make me your mate…  I’ll be sure to have your belly swell every cycle with a brood of big pups…”  Pulls you roughly, impales you on himself.  Growling in his own gravelly, husky voice as you clench and flutter.  From the burning, almost inhuman stretch.  “For as long as you want…”

- Slick trickles down his shaft; dampens his tuft of wiry, blond curls.  “Then we have ourselves a deal, Jacob…”  Shallow gasps escape you, washes over the crook of his neck.  Tongue laps and licks at what you deem the perfect spot.  “Mate…”  And you sink your canines in.  Marking him, making him irreversibly yours for the rest of his life.

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @laylaplease, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen, @jediavengers, @anisangeldust, @fredswrite, @xhunnybeeex, @theladykassia, @thesmexymenace,@these-travels, @beresfordsgirl, @megathatharrypotterfan, @tygresha

[shadowmaat]

Fox's Wonderful Day (redux)

Corrie Week, Day 7: Free Space Fox Day

I'm going to be incredibly self-indulgent by reviving and expanding a cracky thing I wrote a few years ago.

-

It was Race Night in the lower levels, and Fox had deployed extra teams to keep watch in hopes of finally catching a break.

He hated Race Nights. Or, more specifically, he hated that the illegal podracing circuit seemed to have no regard for the safety of those around them.

It was one thing to put your own life in danger with stupid stunts and souped-up racers, but to put ordinary citizens at risk with dangerous speeds, illegal maneuvers, and no regard for public or personal property. Race Nights always saw an increase in injury reports and property damage. And, of course, there were all the connections between the racing circuit and some of the most unsavory criminal organizations on Coruscant. Fox was sick of it.

They were rarely able to net any leads, but this time, somehow, they caught a big one.

Nika Skye was one of the kings of the raceway. And one of the most dangerously reckless ones. Fox had a list of all the crimes that could be laid at Skye's feet. Even if he was never caught, even if none of the charges stuck, Fox still wanted that proof.

"Fox! Sir! I got 'im!"

Hound's voice crackled over the comm, followed by a vid clip of Skye arm-in-arm with a beautifully-dressed woman. Far too beautiful to be safe in that neighborhood.

Skye turned his head to smile at his girlfriend just as the lights of a passing speeder framed them.

Fox stared. He played back the clip. He played it again. He paused it just as the light fully revealed Skye's face. He grinned.

"Stay on them, Hound," he ordered. "Do NOT lose them! I'm on my way to you right now!"

He was already running out the door. Guardsmen flattened themselves against the wall as he passed, and he knew they'd be worried to see their Commander running, but explanations could wait. This was too big, too important for decorum.

Hound kept him updated as be broke a few speed rules of his own in order to catch up.

"Uh... sir?"

Dread curled in Fox's stomach at the Trooper's sudden reluctant tone.

"You didn't lose them, did you?"

"Oh, no sir," Hound reassured him. "It's just, uh... they've gone into the Nookie Nook."

Fox's grin grew even wider as he swung around a final turn, using signals and staying aware of everything and everyone around him.

The "Nookie Nook" was the unofficial name for one of the small, public gardens that were scattered through this sector of Coruscant. It was in slightly better shape than most and provided a little shelter for those seeking to get high... or those seeking a different kind of thrill.

The most important part of it was that it was a public garden. Coruscant had laws against public indecency. Very minor ones, for the most part, and as long as everything was consensual, the Guard was willing to turn a blind eye to a little bit of public sex, but not this time.

There was nowhere to park, of course, so Fox simply found an out-of-the-way spot, parked, and put his Guard placard in the window.

Hound was standing with his back to the entrance of the Nook, fidgeting. Grizzer sat beside him, but stood to wag her tail as Fox approached.

"They still in there?"

Grunts and moans answered him before Hound could.

"...Yessir."

"Don't worry, Hound, I've got this."

The tiniest of giggles escaped him. Hound froze.

"Uh? Are you- I mean, yessir!"

He stepped out of the way. Fox gave him a reassuring pat and moved in. He made sure his helmet was recording- for evidence- and then hit the lights on his helmet.

"Coruscant Guard! Come out with your hands up!"

Screaming. Swearing. The desperate rustle of clothing and displaced foliage.

"Go away!" an all-too-familiar voice snarled. "This is none of your business!"

"Public indecency is very much my business, sir." Fox struggled to keep his tone calm and bored. "Now, step out and prepare to be arrested!"

There was more arguing, of course, but eventually the couple stepped into full, inescapable view.

Anakin Skywalker looked furious and ready to strangle him. His girlfriend, Senator Amidala, at least had the decency to look mortified, trying to shield her face with one hand while the other kept her dress held in place.

"You can't do this to us!" Skywalker growled. "Do you know who I am?"

"Nika Skye," Fox answered. "Street racer responsible for multiple accidents, injuries, and property damage."

Nika Skye. Of all the stupid, ham-fisted aliases he could have picked... but then Fox hadn't really thought about it himself until he got a good look at him. The promo images and candids always showed him in his racing helmet. Ha. Apparently even an idiot could learn a thing or two from his betters. Wait til Rex found out.

Skywalker blinked, appearing caught off guard.

"Well, yeah! That!" he said. "Except I never hurt anyone! I'm just an ordinary citizen, enjoying a night out with my wife."

"We're so sorry for the trouble, Commander," Amidala said, voice dripping professional sincerity. "It won't happen again, I promise. If you'll just let us go-"

"I'm afraid I can't do that, ma'am," Fox said. He hoped the Jedi couldn't sense his glee. "Public indecency is a crime on Coruscant. And there's also the matter of Mr. Skye's multiple traffic violations, involvement in an illegal racing ring with ties to the Black Sun Syndicate-"

Amidala gasped. Skywalker just looked annoyed.

"-as well as damaged property, speeders, and personal injuries related to those traffic violations. Once we're back at the station, you'll be allowed to call an attorney."

"You won't take us in."

There was a pressure to Skywalker's words, an urge to obey, but Fox ignored it.

"We can also provide an attorney for you, if you don't have one of your own," he concluded. He was willing to bet that Amidala, at least, had a whole fleet of lawyers at her beck and call, and he knew the Jedi had some of their own as well.

"Did you hear me?" Skywalker's glare intensified. "I said you won't-"

"Come with us, sir. Quietly," Fox told him. "Resisting arrest will only make things worse." He reached for the binders on his belt.

"Ani." Amidala placed a hand on her boyfriend's arm, but he shook it off, still glaring.

"You'll regret this, Commander," he said. "I'll have your job for this."

Fox rolled his eyes. "Good luck with that, sir. I've been trying to get out of it since the war started."

He did, in fact, get to put binders on Skywalker, citing him as a flight risk. It was one of the greatest moments of his life.

Hound and Grizzer provided backup as they made their way back to the speeder.

"Are you sure about this, Fox?" Hound asked, as they headed back to headquarters. He'd twigged to Skye's true identity as well. "We could get in a lot of trouble for this."

"The Jedi aren't above the law," Fox told him. "And that goes double for Skywalker. Arrogant little shit has been a vibroblade in my side for too long. Flaunting the laws. Acting like he's better than us. Taking advantage of his 'friendship' with the Chancellor to make everything better for himself with no regard for anyone else-"

"Yeah, okay, I know," Hound interrupted. He shifted on the passenger seat, Grizzer in his lap. "But this is gonna bring in the Jedi-"

"I'm counting on that."

"And probably the Chancellor. Like you said, they're friends."

Fox paused. That was a big concern, and the only dark spot in this otherwise wonderful day.

"I'll handle it," he said. He was not giving up this chance for a little payback.

-

Skywalker's story changed as soon as they were in the Processing Room.

"Look, Commander, you really don't want to do this," he said. "I know the Guard doesn't see a lot of action here on Coruscant-"

The thunderous whoosh of indrawn breaths from the listening Guards drowned out his next words.

"...Anakin Skywalker."

Fox refused to rise to the insult Skywalker had carelessly flung at the Guard. Chances were he actually believed what he said.

"And yet your ID says you're Nika Skye."

That earned him another scowl. "Are we really going to play this game, Fox? I know you can't be that stupid."

Fox muted the general chatter feed. Guard opinion of Skywalker was mixed, but mostly positive bordering on indifferent. That was being revised downward fast.

"Lieutenant Rattle, add possession of false ID and lying to an officer of the law to the list of charges," Fox said.

"Mmm," Rattle murmured. Her hands shook more than usual as she added the charges.

"I OUTRANK YOU!" Skywalker roared, making everyone flinch.

Amidala, who'd been on a comm call, turned to look at him.

"It's okay, Ani, I'm handling it," she said.

"You may outrank me, General, but you don't outrank the law." Fox had taken an involuntary half-step back at Skywalker's outburst.

Skywalker closed his eyes and took a deep breath in an apparent effort to calm himself. When he looked at Fox again, his eyes were still bright with rage, but a smile was plastered across his face.

"At least let Pad- Senator Amidala go," he said. "She's an innocent in all of this."

Fox arched a brow, not that Skywalker could see it. Amidala was many things, but innocent wasn't one of them. She was in deep with Skywalker and his schemes, and was probably one of the reasons they hadn't caught him until now.

Still. She was a Senator, and that would be a whole political mess of its own. He tilted his helmet.

"She'll stay here until her security team arrives and then reassess," he said.

Skywalker huffed, rolling his eyes. "Finally! Some sense! I guess I'm so used to Rex-"

"Who's your emergency contact?" Fox interrupted.

"My what?" Skywalker's frown seemed more confused than angry this time.

"Who should we call at the Temple to alert them to your circumstances?"

It was like flipping a switch. Gone was Skywalker's arrogance and bluster. It was replaced with fear and anxiety.

"Oh, uh, that- that won't be necessary, right?"

He was looking anywhere but at Fox. Interesting.

"It's- it's High General Kenobi, sir," Rattle supplied.

Skywalker flinched. "Here?! He can't be! He's supposed to be in a meeting with the High Council!"

Fox's grin returned.

"Thanks, Rattle. I'll be sure to give him a call and let him know his former Padawan is safe."

And wouldn't that be a fun call. In a meeting with the other High Generals? And Fox could interrupt? The day kept getting better and better.

"Wait! No!"

"Burke, Boot, please escort General Skywalker to holding," he said. "We wouldn't want anything to happen to him before General Kenobi gets here."

"Sir!" They said in tandem, moving to herd the suddenly worried Skywalker to the cells.

"Commander Fox," Amidala said, holding the comm to her chest as she spoke. "I know we've caused unbearable upset for you and your Guard, but-"

"Senator Amidala, ma'am," he said. "You're free to leave once your security detail arrives. What you do to help your 'husband' after that is your business."

The already pale Amidala went chalk-white at his words. About the security detail? Or- shit. He'd thought Skywalker was bluffing about the wife thing. The Storms had truly blessed him on this day.

"Please," Amidala whispered, her eyes wide. "You can't tell-"

"If you'll excuse me, ma'am, I have a lot of work to do. Have a good night."

He dipped his head in acknowledgement and headed back to his office. There was so much to do and all of it was good. If there was a slight skip in his step as he walked, well, no one would believe it.

[thedemonofcat]

Modern AU:

Currently, Geralt of Rivia is in a tight spot; after a recent run-in, he finds himself in serious debt to some unsavory characters. Left with no other way out, Geralt hatches a daring plan: he’ll steal from the treasure vaults of the powerful Pankratz family. All that remains is to assemble the right crew.

Yennefer of Vengerberg (Code Name: The Witch) - The Hacker

Yennefer is charismatic, commanding, and a top-tier hacker with sharp instincts. Her expertise in bypassing security, manipulating surveillance, and disabling electronic locks makes her essential to the plan. She’s also Geralt’s ex, which complicates things more than a little.

Ciri Riannon (Code Name: Zireael) - The Infiltrator

The youngest in the crew, Ciri is agile, focused, and resourceful. Her training in parkour, stealth, and infiltration makes her adept at slipping into even the most fortified areas. She’s quick on her feet and can adapt to any situation, giving her the edge in tight spots.

Vesemir Morhen (Code Name: The Last Master) - The Veteran Planner

The wise and seasoned veteran, Vesemir is the crew’s strategist. With years of experience under his belt, he’s the one who lays out every detail of the heist and ensures each team member knows their role. He taught Geralt everything he knows and is the backbone of the operation.

Triss Merigold (Code Name: The Fourteenth) - The Face

Charming and empathetic, Triss is the team’s social engineer. Her ability to sweet-talk, earn trust, and defuse tense situations is second to none. She can get access to high-security areas and smoothly cover any mishaps with her skill at reading people and exploiting their weaknesses.

Lambert Bullion (Code Name: The Prick) - The Getaway Driver

Aggressive, quick, and fearless, Lambert is the team’s driver. His mastery of high-speed maneuvers, tactical driving, and quick decision-making make him invaluable, especially when things go south. He’s rough around the edges but perfect for getting the crew out fast.

Eskel Hill (Code Name: Brown Wolf) - The Safecracker

Calm, focused, and precise, Eskel is the heist’s Safecracker. His engineering skills and patience make him the go-to for quietly dismantling security barriers, cracking safes, and navigating complex lock mechanisms without raising any alarms.

Jaskier (Real Name Unknown) - The Con Man

The mystery of the crew, Jaskier has no known history but a talent for deception. He’s a master of disguise, a natural performer, and a smooth-talking con artist. His role? Cause a diversion, draw all eyes, and keep the authorities busy with elaborate acts while the team slips by undetected.

With each member playing their part, Geralt’s plan might just have a chance.

[marreddream]

Housamo Fic - Two Dog Warriors Walk Into A Cafe

Ding-a ling~

Shinya Tennoji is picking up empty cups and plates from the tables when he sees a small pink and a large brown Therian enter his cafe. Hazelnut strawberry and matcha dark chocolate. They make a rather charming pair, he thinks.

“Oh my, Tanetomo and Yasuyori! It’s so nice to see the two of you again!”

Yasuyori beams. Tanetomo scoffs. 

“We’re just here to use the coupons you gave us. We happened to be close by, so we figured we’d scope your place out.” 

Shinya’s glad to see them, and glad they hadn’t shown up until a good amount of time after the Valentine’s Snowball Fight Shinya had met the two at had passed. Days after an absence of his at the cafe were always busier than normal, to speak nothing of a missed Valentine’s Day shift. 

“Aw, I’m happy to hear that! Yes, see what on the menu you’d like, and order at the front when you’re ready.”

“Shinya Tennoji. I hope for your sake that what you just said was a simple case of you automatically rattling off whatever generic customer greeting phrases first popped into your brain when you saw us, and not you assuming me to be so moronic I never learned how to order from a cafe.”

“Ahaha, it was most definitely a case of the former, Tanetomo.”

“Well, perhaps Yasuyori might have needed the assistance, so good on you for being such a diligent and attentive employee.”

“Counselor! You have seen me function perfectly well at the plenty of other establishments we have been to together before!”

There are some minimally subdued rumblings from the regulars about the fresh faces who have entered the cafe. 

“At least...not fawning…Shinya, but…” “Treat… more respect…holes…” “...think they’re …type?” “… are pretty cute…”

Tanetomo’s ears twitch at the last comment. He does a hair flip and a whimsical 360 degree twirl for the crowd as naturally as he draws breath, which is to say: effortlessly yet with intention, before returning to scanning the menu. 

Taromaiti is at the cash register. She observes this action without judgment or reaction. Hermes isn’t here today, but it’s what you could call a slow day, so Shinya doesn’t particularly mind. Kalki is busy preparing food and cleaning dishes in the back, so he does not get to witness this 10s-across-the-board maneuver.

Cafe Asterism’s patrons tend to get upset when Shinya isn’t the server or cashier, but he wishes he could be on cooking duty during cafe hours more often sometimes. Oh well. He wishes for a lot of things that can’t come true. He returns to what he was doing before hand, and Tanetomo and Yasuyori make their order.

“Iced coffee. Grande. And a bread pudding.”

“Could I have… a venti sized matcha frappuccino? Five Monte Cristos, and two shortbreads, please.”

Yasuyori pays for them both, and they take a seat. 

“Oh, 1 hour seating?” “Well, we won’t be staying long. Anybody who could find something in here even remotely interesting enough to justify spending over an hour in this place (aside from the presence of yours truly, of course) would have to be quite the simple minded kook.”

It’s a subtle dig at Shinya, and the corners of his lips curl up a little. But, for somebody whose goal was to win over Shinya’s “adoring throng of fans to show them who was truly worthy of their love”, as Tanetomo had put it, Shinya wasn’t quite sure if…ah, what was it called? If, “negging”, was the right direction to take.

The people seated nearby Tanetomo and Yasuyori smile upside down. There are definitely some unsavory feelings to be felt in the air, but romantic rival nor direct threat to Shinya’s life/ego (it’s the same thing to them really) Tanetomo does not yet appear to be, so they keep to themselves.

Shinya drops off crockery in the sink, and Kalki has already completed the preceding order for Shinya to serve. Kalki’s insane multi-tasking skills are one thing, but that combined with his four, rugged, heat-resistant arms puts him on a whole nother level when it comes to cafe work. Shinya could sing his praises about Kalki all day long, but not out loud. Kalki would explode the world from embarrassment before any of Shinya’s fans could do it for him in a fit of an envious rage. So Shinya settles for a simple ‘thank you Kalki’ and serves Moe-chan her order, who smiles and says thanks.

When Tanetomo and Yasuyori’s orders are completed, Shinya brings their food over.

“Wow! It looks so good! Thank you, Tenn-”

“Taste test for poison.” Tanetomo spoons a scoop of pudding into Yasuyori’s mouth, and then a strawful of iced coffee. 

“Gulp. Delicious! No poisons identified, Counselor.” 

Shinya wonders if this is Tanetomo’s roundabout way of sharing his food with Yasuyori, some sort of twisted display of dominance, or if poisoning attempts really are frequent enough to be something they actually needed to watch out for. Regardless, it’s a somewhat endearing scene, in a darkly comedic sort of way. 

They are in dangerous territory too after all, Shinya acknowledges. He smiles at the two and leaves them to go attend to the other customers.

Yasuyori takes a small sip of his frappe before setting it down on a coaster. The drink is now already half empty. 

“Give me some of your drink.”

Tanetomo has already snatched it before his sentence is even finished and tries some. He drinks a quarter of it, and Yasuyori nibbles on one of his cookies before giving it to Tanetomo.

The two of them efficiently dine and chat. As Tanetomo consumes the bread pudding and his drink at a surprisingly fast yet visually refined pace, Yasuyori piles three Monte Cristos on top of one another to impressively bite down on all at once, and then hands the remaining two to Tanetomo who proceeds to do the same.  

Wow. Shinya can already feel his jaw locking from just looking at them, but it also kind of makes him want to try it out as well.

Yasuyori finishes his sandwiches and cookie first, and then stares at the one he had given to Tanetomo. Tanetomo purses his lips and tells him to go buy some more for the both of them to-go. Yasuyori complies.

To Shinya’s surprise, Tanetomo calls out to him.

“Don’t think I haven't been seeing you side-eye us the entire time, Shinya Tennoji.” 

Oopsies. Looks like Shinya Tennoji got caught. He wasn’t bombastically ‘side-eyeing’, as Tanetomo had verbally interpreted it as, but he really thought he was doing good about not being that obvious observing them. He hopes the other customers haven’t been as perceptive and paranoid today as Tanetomo is in general, but he’s been pretty good about personably interacting with everybody so he thinks it’ll be okay. 

“So was the entertainment of our dining in your establishment to your satisfaction?”

“Aha, sorry, sorry. It’s not like I wasn’t looking, but the two of you seemed like you were having a lot of fun. I always want to see my customers having a good time at Cafe Asterism.”

“Hmph. Is that so.”

Well, yes. That is so, Shinya thinks. He most certainly does not like to see people having a bad time at Cafe Asterism, when the reasoning for most everybody gathering here tending to be because of him.

“Ahhh… could it be that... that wasn’t the case for you two today?” 

His hands come up to his chin. It’s an endearing pose that he finds tends to quell agitated customers, but it only serves to scrunch up Tanetomo’s expression even more. Shinya holds back a smile.

“The atmosphere here is not to my standards. The interior design doesn’t help either.” 

Shinya’s proud of his quaint little cafe, but he knows it’s just that. A quaint little cafe. That also attracted a lot of… rather strong-willed habitué . So he can acquiesce to that opinion. And besides, Tanetomo was not saying Shinya’s decorating was making the atmosphere worse! He can take that part as a compliment.

Anyways, the only opinion on his cafe that truly mattered was Retail Food Health and Safety Code’s opinion, and Cafe Asterism was up to snuff.

“Aww…. Tanetomo, I’m so sorry to hear that. I’d love for you and Yasuyori to come again sometime… but if you’ve lost all interest in returning to Cafe Asterism, then I completely understand.”

He doesn’t want them to never return again. But it’s not a bad thing to let people run while they still can either.

“I’d be significantly more incentivized to return if I had some more coupons to use at a next visit. The food is up to par, I can at least say.”

“Hehee. At least that can be arranged.” He pulls some from out of his apron pocket. “Here you go, Tanetomo.” 

He smoothly plucks them from Shinya’s fingers and looks them over. 

“You just give these out to whoever asks?” “When I feel like…I have extra, I guess.”

Shinya feels a presence behind him and turns around. Oh, it’s Moko.

“Sh…Shinya… sorry, cuz’ I overheard…but could…. I have a coupon, too…?” 

Moko gets the words out just audibly enough for only Shinya to hear, but Shinya knows it’s only a matter of time before people will begin to gather round, and Tanetomo seems to sense this looming phenomenon as well.

“My, one’s heart can't help but be tugged at by such pitiful displays of desperation…”

Yasuyori returns with a paper bag of confections in hand, and Tanetomo gets up to leave.

“I’m off.” He spins, his hair elegantly following in a curve, and heads to the exit.

“Farewell Shinya!” Yasuyori gives a friendly wave goodbye, and Shinya turns around to reciprocate.  

When he turns back to respond to Moko, and Sumael, Amon, and Rue who have also begun to crowd around Shinya, he hears the bell of the exit door ring as it is opened and Tanetomo calls out from behind.

“Customer service wasn’t bad either. Give my regards to Miss Taromaiti and the chefs.”

The door closes shut. 

“I was still right here to give regards to, you know,” Taromaiti remarks amusedly from the front register. 

Shinya proceeds in the distribution of coupons to his patrons who have circled around him.

[firapolemos05]

No devil hides beneath my bed

Part 1, Part 2

AO3 CW: nsfw (minors dni), whumper pov, past noncon, promise of future noncon, pet whump, captivity, dehumanization, sexual slavery, put on display, intimate whumper, creepy whumper, multiple whumpers, cages, restraints, ring gag, forced arousal, object insertion, overstimulation, auction, noncon touching

Tonight Scarlet hosts the Lanista Society for a special dinner event. The Champion is the coveted prize, and Ivan is honored to have been the cause of it.

Champion taglist: @emmettnet , @ostensiblyfunctional

Ivan is left marveling once again at his superior's immaculate taste.

High Martinet Matar sure knew how to throw a party.

Her guests had been greeted with the finest. A banquet of gourmet Crescentine dishes and exotic delicacies. Fresh fruits and cheeses, tender meats and fish, spiced breads and decadent sweets, aged wines from the mountain vineyards. The finest money and magic could offer.

Their venue is just as grand, perhaps more so due to its creativity. A conjured demiplane Scarlet produced specially for this affair. Ivan finds it rather ingenious.

The woman was no stranger to hosting guests at her manor; he himself had been there only last week. But she limits those meetings to no more than a few people at a time. Fewer bodies are easier to keep track of. With large parties like this, comes the ever present risk of unsavory infiltrators. The Lanista Society held members with many enemies. The uninvited in disguise or potential rivals waiting for the right moment to snoop around. Larger groups made it inconvenient to keep tabs on everyone.

The demiplane removed that risk.

No need to worry about the unwanted loose in your home if you're not bringing them to your home to begin with.

And as a bonus, the spell's design was limited only by the imagination. And a wizard of Scarlet's caliber knew fine decor.

All which was fully on display for tonight's event. It was a special occasion after all.

On one end of the chamber, seated on a raised platform, was an ornate bronze cage. Round and domed at the top like one of those old-fashioned bird cages that didn't allow room for the bird to spread its wings. However this cage was far larger, for its occupant was no bird.

Scarlet found the perfect display for the Society's beloved Champion. An advantageous maneuver given he was the subject of business this evening. If Ivan had thought he looked enticing their first meeting a week ago, Scarlet had expertly ensured that the people present now would be incapable of keeping their eyes off him.

In fact, there was already a crowd forming around the cage.

Knees spread and wrists secured above him, the Champion was giving everyone a show with his trembling body. Years of fighting had toned his muscles, and the shimmering red velvet bands only accentuated them. Scarlet must have gotten the outfit custom tailored, for it turned the tiefling's form into a canvas painted with red. Velvet strips hugging his thighs and shoulders. Flowers of beaded lace climbing from hip to collar to the small of his back. Dangling garnets mimicked the appearance of dripping blood.

Absolutely exquisite.

Scarlet had elected to keep his lower region covered, draping that same black cloth around his waist that he'd worn last time. Ivan could see the sense; what was already being shown was enough of a free sample.

The guests were permitted to touch, at least to the extent they were allowed without having to pay. And the Champion’s body was a buffet getting more attention than the actual food. Fingers traced the soft velvet, then slipped in between to caress exposed skin.

“He has the best reactions if you stroke his tail,” Ivan had informed them, and they were quick to take advantage.

The touches worked well to elicit forced pleasure, though perhaps not as much as some other things.

Scarlet couldn't allow her pet to spend the whole party glaring or growling at guests, so Ivan suggested a means to keep him occupied. Just a couple simple toys, one placed inside him and the other encircling the base of his tail where he was most sensitive. Both hidden from the guests eyes with a specially crafted belt that doubled to prevent the tiefling from making a mess of himself.

From how much he was trembling, struggling to close his legs, face flushed as he moaned around the ring gag strapped around his head, the toys were doing their job. And the guests were very much appreciating the sight. Ivan could see a number of people with their hands under their pants.

He couldn't blame them. They stood before a desperate succubus, beckoning them all with pleading huffs of breath and squirming hips. Ivan himself was imagining how pretty that face would look around his cock.

He would have to wait his turn.

Ting! Ting! Ting!

The rhythmic taps of a wine glass drew the attention of the masses to the head of the table where Scarlet stood.

“Now now, everyone. I know my pet has been an exciting treat for you all, but I do hope you help yourselves to the dessert table.”

There were more than a few bouts of embarrassed laughter. Ivan included, as he too nearly forgot to go fill up his dish.

“I'm pleased to see he has garnered such interest,” she continued. “Just a quick reminder that the bidding period ends in thirty minutes. The current highest offer stands at 2,500 platinum.”

Well, not too bad a price tag for the Champion’s first official patron (Ivan's previous night with him didn't count). And if this went to a formal auction at the end of the party, if there was still an active bidding war, that amount would likely grow.

But already, he'd be returning home tomorrow with a decent payment. In a deal that spoke wonders of her generosity, Scarlet had agreed to save a percentage of the funds for him. None of this would've happened had he not raised the suggestion to her.

Lucrative business indeed. Ivan could recognize many big names at this party. Politicians, industry tycoons, nobility, all those with plentiful riches and power. He wondered if he could convince some of them to assist him in forming a similar operation in Mężnydzik. Or perhaps a connected branch.

Those were thoughts for the future. Right now, he was enjoying the view.

The first moment the cage was clear of onlookers, Ivan walked over and reached through the bronze bars to lift up the Champion’s head to face him. With how long he'd had his mouth held open, his chin was streaked with drool, but thankfully Ivan had the foresight to wear gloves.

“Just like I said, little devil,” he purred, gazing into eyes that struggle to focus through the mind clouding sensations. The tiefling whined in protest as Ivan let his other hand trail up his thigh. “I knew you'd be quite popular.”

There's a moment of clarity to the Champion’s stare. A moment he's able to fight through the tears and the unwanted stimulation and-

Oh. Well isn't that a nasty look.

Reference for the outfit here.

[linkspooky]

You've written about Overhaul in the past. Any tips on writing him accurately?

Overhaul's actually one of the most complex villains in the story that's not a part of the league of villains, however since he's pretty unlikable and has mostly negative and unsavory character traits he's not discussed as often. However when it comes to writing him, there's a lot of rich material to mine here.

So my starting point whenever trying to write a character and make them as in-character as possible, is to figure out what the author intended for them in story. What role are they supposed to play? What function do they serve? In my opinion, Chisaki was an attempt by Horikoshi to twist a lot of traditional "good guy" traits into a villainous character that the audience would despise.

One of my biggest ways of doing this is to compare them to other characters, especially haracters who aren't given as much screentime because there are lots of cogs in a story and often the purpose of one character is to highlight a personality trait in another character because they share it.

Now I'm going to explain Chisaki's characterization by comparing them to another character, but here's the curveball here: I'm not going to use Shigaraki. Because I can explain it real quick with Shigaraki, the purpose of Chisaki is to show how Shigaraki's leadership differs from Chisaki because Shigaraki sees his allies as more than just pawns to be utilized. However, to come to understand why Chisaki wholeheartedly believes that everyone exists to be used thoroughly to further his own ends, we're going to look at a different character.

Hawks and Chisaki are both bird-themed. They are both orphans who were taken in by an organization at a young age, Chisaki by the Yakuza and Hawks by the hero commission. They are both also extremely fanatically loyal to that organization and do everything possible to ensure that organizations survival, in part because they feel they have to repay being taken in.

They are both characters who were introduced to the league of villains, trusted by Twice, only to turn around and kill a member of the league. For Hawks it was literally Twice himself he killed. They were also initially presented as cooperating with the league, but when they reveal their true colors it shows how they view people in stark contrast to how the league views and treats it's own members. Which like, Hawks does not come out looking pretty in the comparison.

Hawks doesn't actively abuse children so he has that over overhaul, but he does drag them onto battlefields that are basically an active warzone where the villains are fighting to kill. Which means that much like Overhaul, he tends to treat children the way he was treated: Ie, weaponizing them.

If you are familiar with Hawks mindset, "I am a pawn, so therefore everyone else is a pawn that I can maneuver around to obtain my objective" then it's easy to extrapolate the same onto Chisaki. Hawks talks about dirtying his hands, Chisaki is literally a germaphobe who has panic attacks if he gets blood on his hands (I'm exaggerating only slightly).

Chisaki is introduced with a deep psychological need to stay clean and avoid everything he considers filth, dirty, or diseased a rampant paranoia of his which spreads to his hatred of quirks. We never get the reason why Chisaki hates quirks, besides the fact that the advent of heroes threatened his home in the Yakuza, but if we're going to extrapolate here it's probably due to the grotesque nature of his own quirk. He literally targets Eri because their quirks are similiar and he finds hers to be incredibly disgusting, and justifies his abuse of her with that logic.

My pet theory is that he was either abandoned by his parents because of hsi quirk, or that he was taken in by AFO at some point and deliberately targeted by his quirk like Toya was (people have pointed out that the wallpaper here and the children playing int he background resemble the house that Toya was taken to).

So, what we get here is Chisaki hates quirks, and he likely hates his own quirk possibly because of how he was treated in childhood because of it. He was definitely exploited by the same man who took him in due to that quirk, considering the fact he's a yakuza enforcer and has probably been committing violent crime since childhood. Once again, a Hawks trait, to be born with a prodigious quirk and yet find that quirk incredibly filthy.

Hawks and Chisaki are a study in how characters can be painted to have "good guy" and "bad guy" traits, when really they're only being painted that way because of circumstances or surroudnings. Hawks in a lot of ways acts the same as Chisaki, he just happens to be manipulating people for the heroes, not to restore the Yakuza. Chisaki values no one, everyone including his childhood friend, the people he takes in off the streets, are pawns to be utilized by the best of their aiblity. He even tries to teach Shigaraki to play Shogi (Shigaraki not knowing how to play probably signifying how much he views people differently).

So, Chisaki's willing to utilize everyone around him in service of a goal, the worth they have is to how he can use them to benefit his larger goal in mind and he's got no qualms about it.

Villainous trait, villainous trait, you say but Hawks does the same thing basically maneuvering everyone on the battlefield in the first and second wars the way Chisaki does, he just does it for an entirely different goal. He's even willing to personally betray and mutilate someone who trusted him in order to achieve that goal. Chisaki's point of no return is him completely massacring Nemoto in order to fuse with him when the tables started to turn against him in his fight against the hero. Hawks stabs Twice in the back in order to prevent him from using his quirk to stop the raid. In both cases it's a personal betrayal of someone who was good to them and trusted them.

You could say Hawks did it for the greater good, but for CHisaki who only knows his Yakzua way of life he's doing it for the survival of the only life he knows. Which is why I say they're so similiar, Hawks isn't really protecting innocent people, he's protecting his role in the hero commission. He takes what he was raised to do to the extreme.

Which is another central character trait they share, Chisaki's biggest defect is that he never, ever gives up on anything ever. A traditionally heroic trait especially in the shonen manga where the character never gives up ever, but his determination is twisted into something hideous because he has no qualms about making sacrifices to get what he wants.

Since childhood Chisaki has done absolutely everything to protect the family's dignity, to the point where it was disturbing. He never changes his mind, never backs down, even when the man he's trying to repay goes against him, but it comes from the same source as Hawks.

He believes he owes the person who took him in, and does everything he does in service of that debt.

So the last part is Chisaki's germophobia himself. Now Chisaki is a man completely divorced from his own sense of guilt who doesn't really hesitate before making heinous actions, but I wouldn't say he feels nothing,the man's clearly not mentally well. If anything I'd say his own germophobia is a metaphor for the guilt and self-loathing he feels and chooses to ignore.

He usually has breakdowns shortly after using his quirk as well. He'll absolutely brutalize people and then have a breakdown about the blood that they've gotten on him. Which suggests he you know, probably does not enjoy bloodshed in any real way. You could even compare it to Shigaraki's statement that he always feels like there's a constant sickness no matter what he destroys, which is likely his repressed guilt that AFO played off as some kind of urge to destroy, or the way Shigarki carries his hands of his family on him so he'll never forget his own self-disgust at murdering them.

Chisaki is living completely divorced from his own sense of guilt, until he's not. Once you remove him from his position of power, when he's away from the mission and forced to sit in his prison cell in tartarus he's reduced to a shambling mess that just constantly apologizes over and over to his boss and begs for the chance to see him again.

Which means that Chisaki represses all of his emotions to perform a task, and when he si not performing a task or functioning in a role he falls to pieces, because he doesn't have any sort of life except for serving in the yakuza. He's even referred to as a "gangster without a heart" because he literally has nothing else and no identity.

Chisaki's gotta be a gangster and he'll even throw a coup and put his boss in a coma for fear of losing that place in the world, because what else is there for him?

He even hates being called by his real name, much like Hawks, so his central issue is really a lack of identity because he was raised in a fishbowl with no other place to belong in the real world. Except we saw Chisaki when he was taken out of his fishbowl, and all he did was flop around like a magikarp.

As for general guidelines on his voice:

The germaphobia is a constant thing with him. Don't put your shoes in my table. Don't breathe in my direction. Hey stop bleeding on me your blood is filthy.

He talks down to people in general. He's extremely condescending with Shigaraki right off the bat, and states to his face that the only worth that Shigaraki and the League will ever have is pawns to be used as a part of his plan.

He flips between being detached, and extreme anger. Basically he's able to act cold and detached when things are going his way, and when people resist his plans or manipulations he then switches to browbeating, bullying or just otherwise lashing out in anger. If the square peg won't fit in the round hole, then just hit it harder until it does. He's cold and calculating until his calculations fail then he just brute forces it.

He's generally pretty good at negging people, he's got Eri convinced that her quirk is disgusting and she's the source of the misfortune around her. He's also got a bunch of street rats incredibly loyal to him by convincing them they can literally do no better in life than being used as a part of his plan.

He also has a softer and more polite side that only comes out in front of the boss. This is his childish side too. When he's fighting Deku and has basically lost, he flashes back to his boss patting him on the head and thanking him for protecting the family's honor. He literally just craves validation from the closest thing he has to a father figure. He'll go to any lengths to get it.

In general Chisaki should be disturbingly inhuman too, not just in his actions, but in his rationale and how far he can go and how little he considers other people in the equation. Even his own childhood friend and fellow yakuza finds him to be offputting. His boss asks him point blank, "What are humans to you?"

Basically, he's creepy, weird, anti-social, uses everyone around him, and is also completely divorced from his own feelings and sense of guilt which lets him run roughshod over other people's feelings.

So, y'know. Hawks.

Except Hawks puts on a charming and likable personality, whereas Chisaki's personality is having no personality.

[drunkewok]

Tiger Inside Chapter Five

Stray Kids Mafia (Ongoing)

Masterlist

Likes, reblogs and feedback always greatly appreciated

WC: 3.6k

Pairing: Lee Know x reader

Genre: Series, Enemies to lovers, non-idol AU, Mafia AU

Synopsis: After years spent away from the family, two strangers start frequenting your place of work, only to bring daunting news. Flung back into the world of the mafia, you try to adapt to your new normal and work alongside a team of eight skilled members to uncover a mystery and take down an unknown enemy.

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, drinking, swearing, violence, weapons

Disclaimer: Any portrayal of Stray Kids or any other idols in this story is purely fiction and do not at all reflect their own personalities or how I view them as a person, it is purely for the sake of the story.

Please do not copy or repost my work

Mafia.

An organized body of criminals, known for having a complex and ruthless behavioral code.

The way of life was nothing new to me. I was raised by the code, living under my Father’s strict rule. Although raised among criminals, my childhood was far from unsavory. Father was a caring member towards his own family, but bent on ensuring all members were well versed in the art of self defense. Should the need ever arise, I shall not be caught with the inability to fight, gun in hand by the age 14.

By the age of 16, things started to look bleak, a looming threat hanging over the heads of the Choi family inching closer with each passing day. Jiho at age 22 was kept under strict eyes, spending more time away from home with Father on family business, close under his wing.

The distance from home proved difficult in terms of defense. By age 17, I stood by my Mother as we watched our home engulfed in flames. Father and Jiho returned by the next day, the four of us finding safety within my Grandfather’s home.

The attack on my Mother came next. Jiho had stayed home, Mother and Father leaving this time for negotiations. A long night followed with no word from the two of them before the sound of the front door finally opening with Father’s arrival.

Mother never returned.

He never told us what happened that day, taking a vow of silence on the matter. With that target my fate was sealed. I was sent away to Gangnam, taking on the identity of Siu and making a new life for myself. I spent the first years in solitude, too scared to leave the comfort of my own home. By age 21 my journeys out of the apartment were more often, before I found myself in a beaten down alley staring down a ‘HELP WANTED’ sign posted outside of an unassuming door. Upon entering I was greeted by a barkeep only a few years older than myself. Through a toothy smile he introduced himself as Seongho, a gentleman who quickly became my closet confidant. A peer in which I was desperately in need of. We found comfort within each other, both just trying to maneuver the drag of day to day life together.

Now I find myself sat in front of 7 men, the bitter truth of my past finally creeping up behind me and embracing me with an icy grip. Years spent learning to conform to the norms up in flames. Years spent running in the shadows all for naught. I crossed my legs as I sat firm, holding myself strong in front of those before me. I studied the four new faces with a flat stare, waiting for one of them to finally speak.

“You all don’t need to look like deer in headlights.” The group shuffled in their seats, clearly unsettled by my presence. “Care to introduce yourselves so I know who I’m now sharing a home with?” I watched as each began to introduce themselves in turns.

Seo Changbin was the first to speak up. Age 26 and hair similar to Minho’s chestnut. His brawny frame was emphasized by a white button up with sleeves rolled to three quarters, the buttons of which seemed like they were holding on for dear life. Specializations in combat being no surprise with his figure, in charge of anything relating to weaponry.

The next in line was smaller in frame than his former, but still hid strength in the arms. His hair was a deep black, and although shorter, styled similarly to that of Hyunjin’s with a crisp slick back with enough gel to hold an elephant down. He said his name was Han Jisung, a year younger than Changbin, with expertise landing him as a sniper with a deadly aim.

Kim Seungmin. Initially I was struggling to read him, a slight smirk adorning his face that seemed he was trying very little to hide. Sitting at the same age of Jisung at 25, he handled all things chemistry. Focus centered to that of poisons, and tending to the medical needs of the team. A field I’d be first to admit that I didn’t have a strong set of skills in, I’d have to take some lessons from him later on that.

A chipper one was next, his smile stretching cheek to cheek once reaching his turn, clearly now less tense as the introductions made their way down the line. Yang Jeongin fell in line with the previous two with his dark hair, each contrasting the painful bleaching the other’s must have endured. His initial unassuming presence and being the youngest making him the dark horse of the team, working alongside Changbin with specialties in close combat and all things espionage and infiltration.

My gaze fell upon the three I already had the pleasure of meeting under unfortunate circumstances. All silent through the current interactions.

“Now you three, I know your names, but what is there to expect from you?” Felix’s usual smile stretched across his face before speaking up.

Age 25 landed him in the youngest of the group as well, his skills within computer technology led him to handle anything technical. Any hacking needed by the group was tended to by Felix, skills commonly used in pairing with Jeongin when in need of infiltration.

“Oh speaking of which” Felix dug into the pocket of his pants, retrieving my phone from the depths and handing it over to me. “Was meaning to return this to you, just had to take some security precautions.” I turned the phone over in my hand, observing it. My confusion evident on my face on how he even came into possession of it in the first place. “Sorry, had to do some pickpocketing as I led you to bed last night, can’t say it was very difficult with you essentially already being asleep the moment you stepped foot within the door ” I let out a huff as I laid the phone in my lap, leaning forward with arms crossed over my knee as my gaze fell on Hyunjin.

Hyunjin sat back with arms crossed. Although his initial demeanor seemed similar to our previous night, his voice held a bit more comfort, closer to that of our days spent conversing at Blossom. Aged 26, his hand was best behind that of a sniper rifle. A keen eye for distance and grace with a finger on the trigger.

All that was left was that of the mighty, silent Minho. My chin sat in the hold of my fingers, staring him down with brows raised, a look daring of go on, impress me. He stared back with tongue in cheek and lips pursed before speaking. With a deep breath his eyes turned to his fingers, gently tapping on the armrest of his chair as he spoke. Sharing an age with me, he found himself by Chan’s side, being the main line of communications and negotiations. I could quickly tell why I was paired with him, his specialties being that with most categories in the group. He was a key player in the team, with the flexibility to fall in line with whatever assistance was needed.

I nodded my head with a soft hum, piecing together the team that was now presented before me. As expected, their skills were well balanced, supporting each other's needs and creating a cohesive flow within the group. I was curious where I would end up landing within them, and if I would find any of my own hidden expertise beyond the broad training I received when I was younger.

I had the pleasure of getting to know them all a little better that night. They were a lively bunch, energies definitely feeding off of each other with every joke and bout of laughter. If you had found the group in the corner of a bar one night, you would have never predicted them to be the Mafia, simply friendly and welcoming. I also got to experience Hyunjin and Felix in their full glory as well, finally seeing the two of them relax within the comfort of their own home and not tense under the tight suits and imaginary masks they had to adorn during their time at Blossom. Besides the uptight Minho, I could possibly see myself enjoying my time here with these boys. My own worries temporarily fading away for a couple hours before we all decided to try and get some rest.

I was tossing and turning all night with the inability to sleep. Exhaustion was not playing in my favor like the previous night, unfamiliar surroundings making any chance I had of relaxing nonexistent, the noise of the clock on my bedside table creating an agitating sound within the darkness with every tick.

My mind couldn’t stop from racing, the conversation with Jiho constantly replaying through my mind. Not only had I been pulled back into this world, but I was now being asked to delve face first into leading it by his side. Unlike Jiho, I had not had the ability to learn beside our Father, I didn’t possess the same knowledge he had the chance to learn by experience. In what way would I be able to catch up to his level? Was it even possible?

In frustration I threw the blankets off of me and hung my feet over the side of the bed, rubbing my face in my hands trying to settle my thoughts. I needed to go get water, something, anything that could just give me the opportunity to calm myself.

I crept through the dark halls, trying to find my way downstairs to the kitchen. The house had an eerie stillness to it in the night, each step on the stairs causing a deafening creak breaking through the silence.

Finally locating the archway to the kitchen, I slid my hand across the wall in search of the light switch, squinting in adjustment once the light finally hit my eyes. I was only reminded of my unfamiliarity with the home when I realized I had no idea what cabinet the cups occupied.

“Didn’t take you long to start rifling through the house I see.” I jumped at Minho's voice, turning to see him leaning against the archway with arms crossed.

“Oh please.” With a glare I turned back to my mission of locating my water vessel. “I just need a damn cup.” I grumbled in frustration before finally opening the last cabinet, an array of glasses for options. Grabbing one, I crossed to the sink and began to fill it. “Is it really such a crime to feel dehydrated?” I leaned against the counter behind me, staring Minho down as I took a sip. “What are you doing awake anyways?” His eyes followed the glass as I set it down next to me.

“I’m a light sleeper, and was curious who was fumbling their way through the house at such an hour.” He made his way to the island, pulling out a stool and sitting down.

“Fumbling?” I scoffed as I crossed my arms. “I was hardly fumbling. Plus, I wouldn’t have had such a hard time if the interior of this house wasn’t so dark.” My eyebrows raised as I stared at him with humor, feeling like my unfamiliarity paired with the dark aesthetic of the home created a proper reasoning for my inability to move through the halls smoothly.

“Well you’re going to have to get better at moving in the dark if you’re going to work with us.” His sharp stare felt like it was piercing through me, his tone flat with little emotion poking through.

“You act like I have no idea what I’m doing.” Once again, my irritation found itself cozy at home within my veins. The audacity he had to act like I was some helpless child needing my hand held, like I was some frail girl who was flung into this without a single thought in my head. My hand gripped my other arm, finding grasp on the sleeve of my sweatshirt as my jaw tensed.

“Have you stopped to think maybe you don’t?” Minho’s abrupt change in demeanor put an unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach, the first true emotions he’s shown to me since my arrival being that of resentment as his voice raised.

“What is your problem with me? It’s like you decided your distaste for me before I even walked in the door.” My tone quickly matched his own, paying no mind to the raise in volume between the both of us. If this was the game he wanted to play with me, I had no worries in meeting him on a level playing field.

“Maybe I just don’t like the idea of letting someone in that has a giant target on their back. You���re putting all of us at risk by being here!” He leaned against the back of the stool, face painted with anger and putting a hostile feeling to the air.

“You act like I wanted to come here! Like it was my life’s greatest pleasure to uproot everything I’ve built for myself to come here, I would have much rather stayed on my own!” My hands settled forward on the island counter, head tilted in annoyance as I could feel my heart rate starting to spike and my body temperature rise.

“Then leave!” He rose from his seat, leaning his own hands on the counter, leaving the two of us face to face as he spit his words. “No one is holding a gun to your head, you’re not a prisoner here. Figure this shit out on your own instead of putting us in danger!”

“What the fuck are you two down here yelling about at one in the morning!?” Chan’s groggy and irritated eyes stared down the two of us from the entryway. “Whatever this is can wait until the morning, both of you shut up and go back to bed.” My eyes scanned over Minho’s expression one last time as my tongue ran across the inside of my cheek.

“It’s fine. We were finished here anyway.” I pushed past Chan into the hall and made my way toward the front door, needing to put as much distance between this house and myself as possible.

“What has gotten into you? You seem to forget that she may be new, but she’s still a Choi. Her word is above us Minho.” Chan’s blunt voice carried from the kitchen as I slid my shoes on and grabbed my jacket, storming out into the cold night and slamming the door behind me, cutting off the rest of their conversation from my ears.

I didn’t know where to go, or even know where I was, I just knew that I needed to be as far from that house as possible. It felt like every emotion was hitting me collectively at once, the anger, irritation and offense all boiling through my blood in deep contrast with the pain and hurt that I had been trying so hard to ignore tearing apart my chest. Everything I knew had been swept out from under me in an instant, any sense of normalcy pried from my fingers, and this is what I had to adapt to as my new normal? I just started running, my feet taking me wherever they deemed necessary.

The road was shrouded in complete darkness, the trees shielding out any possibility of the moonlight seeping through. My ears were ringing, cheeks stinging from the cold air hitting the tears that I was unaware were now streaming down my face. There was no way I’d be able to train alongside Minho, not when just my presence sent him into a tizzy, any time I open my mouth causing an issue.

My fists clenched as I ran, trying to diffuse my anger with any source of self relief. My endurance wasn’t as strong as it once was as I could feel the sprinting finally catching up with me and my legs beginning to feel weak. Unaware of how long I had actually been running for, I began to let up on my pace. My winded breathing began to take over as I slowed to a stop and rested my hands forward on my knees, catching my breath. This was all too much at once, I couldn’t even stop to process a single bit of information that was being hurled at me before a new problem came up. I never got a moment for recovery, how could I possibly handle any of this when my entire life just imploded before my eyes.

My gasps for air turned to sobs as my tears hit the concrete below me, my arms and legs uncontrollably shaking. It was all too much. So many layers that were crumbling on top of each other, I had watched as each bit piled up on top of each other, the weight becoming too heavy for support as it all came tumbling down in a single moment. The argument being the straw that finally broke the metaphorical back of a camel that was once standing as strong as a mountain.

I pushed myself to the edge of the road, leaning my back against a tree as I struggled to get my breathing settled, my brain now sitting in a post panicked haze. My head eased back and fell against the bark, a shaky deep breath following. A quiet hum in the distance brought my head up in the direction that I had traveled from, headlights appearing in the distance. I pulled my hood over my head in an attempt to keep my face shielded from the bright light cutting through the darkness. The vehicle slowed as it came closer before coming to a halt in front of me, the tinted window rolling down to reveal Chan in the driver’s seat. We sat in silence for a moment, not a word exchanged as he reached across the passenger side and opened the door.

“Just get in please, it’s too late for you to be out here alone.” I closed my eyes with a sigh and slid into the passenger seat, resting my head back against the seat with heavy eyes. Chan turned the car around, making its way back to the house in painful silence. The ride was brief, my feet only taking me so far in a short period of time. As the car came to a halt, Chan sighed as he switched off the ignition and turned to me, pausing to choose his words before speaking.

“This is unlike him.” I raised my head slightly, barely catching eye contact with him before he continued. “I think the stress of this all is just getting to him, but that doesn’t justify him taking it out on you.” Chan scratched the back of his neck, head hanging low. “You’ve got the most on your plate out of all of us, and I understand that, but we all just need to at least attempt to make the most of this situation to at least make it all bearable.” I opened my mouth to protest, yet words failed to make it past my lips. “I’m not here to be a mediator between the two of you, but I had a talk with him and told him he needs to stand back and let you decompress from everything before you two destroy each other." His hand rested on my shoulder, both of our tired eyes meeting. “Just get some rest, we can work all of this out when we aren’t all deprived of sleep. I’ll have Felix give you a proper tour of the house in the morning, and I’m gonna keep you and Minho apart until you both cool down.”

“I can play nice Chan, it’s him you need to get a rein on.” I scoffed as I opened the door and made my way up the steps to the house, the familiar dark looming exterior making me feel small. I hung up my jacket and glanced forward to see the light still on in the kitchen at a distance, Minho’s figure still seated at the island, staring down at his crossed hands on the counter in front of him. I let out a huff and made my way up the stairs to my bedroom, closing the door behind me and dropping myself onto the bed in the darkness.

I reached up, pulling my phone off the nightstand to check the time. Multiple texts and missed calls from Seongho littered my screen. I swiped to unlock it, eyes adjusting to the bright light in front of me and attempting to view the string of messages left.

6:20PM: Hey Siu, your shift started 20 minutes ago, where you at?

7:00PM: Siu? You good?

7:42PM: Seriously, you’re starting to worry me, just say something at least, this isn’t like you.

9:00PM: If you don’t respond by the time my shift is over, I’m showing up at your place.

11:00PM: I’m dead serious, you better say something.

It was very quickly nearing 2AM, so I knew his shift would be over shortly, and the last thing I needed was for him to show up to my empty apartment already panicked. I quickly typed out a response to him in a fog, telling him I was alright, but needed to explain everything to him later. Shutting the screen off, I buried my face into my pillow and shut my eyes, trying to force myself to finally fall into a slumber.

Next Chapter

[vacancy-virtues]

#2- "Nothing But Static"

It was just supposed to be another surveillance mission on Villain. Heros one goal was to search their newest hiding spot and Intel gave Hero a detailed schedule of their routine. Hero finally located precisely where in the expansive apartment building Villain resided so while Villain was out on their usual Thursday grocery run, Hero was tasked to search the apartment for their next plans of mass destruction.

Clothes stuck to the skin from how humid it was, making it useless in trying to stay dry with the opposing misty downpour. The setting sun against the smog-filled clouds gave the city a warm yet dingy orange hue as the light began to fade. The rain was as steady as the traffic below the high-rise Hero was climbing the stairs to, where the people look like ants scuttling about in the rain by the time they reach the sixteenth floor.

After taking a moment to catch their breath, they eventually found themselves at their nemesis' door. They looked around, ensuring no one would bear witness to the unsavory act of them breaking into the apartment before promptly doing so with ease.

The apartment was a pristine mess. While the contemporary flair of the furniture complimented the architecture of the apartment, papers remained scattered about the couch and boxes were piled high near the bar in the kitchen. It didn't even look like the kitchen was used often compared to the rest of the apartment. Hero gave a small huff as they looked around, unsure of where to start.

In the corner, by the large bay window beside the TV, was a small electric piano. It had struck the Hero as odd, because when did Villain ever play an instrument? It seemed impractical to them, but many of Villains actions Hero viewed as impractical. They maneuvered carefully around the mess, mindful not to crinkle a single paper, before seating themselves on the bench of the piano. It was the only clear spot to sit in, as the chairs were also occupied with various blueprints and schematics.

"Alright, now what are you up to..." Hero murmured, before carefully searching through a box.

To Heros surprise, the blueprints were from older missions they'd worked on in the past. As they sifted, it was only revealing mechanics of software Intel knew inside and out. Hero shuffled about to another box, and it was filled of past addresses they already met Villain at. Box upon box, nothing was proven to be useful. Hero was just about to get up, until they noticed a notepad atop of the keyboard. On the paper was a half-finished composition, which admittedly, Hero didn't know how to understand.

Hero eyed the boxes in the kitchen. Various labels like "bedroom" and "pantry" marked the boxes. The items Hero could see seemed to correspond, but it didn't make any sense. It had taken some time to find Villain this time around, which allowed plenty of time to craft something only their sickly brilliant mind could comprise. Hero reached for their mic, yet after a moment with no response, they called again.

Nothing but static.

They looked around at the apartment. Perhaps Villain bugged it, and was interfering with their reception? It had to be it. Before the panic could set in, there was the sound of metallic clicking coming from the front door. Hero didn't recall being there for long and it seemed too soon for Villain to return. Carefully, they maneuvered through the papers and into the linen closet near the hallway. The light barely missed the wood slats of the door, leaving the space dark. The door opened, and an irritated huff escaped Villain as they locked up behind them.

"Closed the day before the holiday and the day of? Now it's just excessive at this point..." They sighed and tossed their bag down.

Hero watched through the slats of the closet door as they moved about their apartment. They seemed to be in no hurry to get to any planning. They stripped their coat off and onto the couch before they took a seat at their keyboard by the window. It was a mere recon mission, and with no way to alert the team on how the mission was going, Hero would be on their own.

Their racing mind began to still once a smooth set of notes rung through the air, and pulled Hero from their thoughts entirely. The rhythm felt cool compared to the summer monsoons here. The notes paused a moment, before dipping into lower and higher ranges of experimental notes. While Hero never had the eye for music, they did have an ear for it.

'No, the last bit you had before worked.. go back to it,' they thought.

Almost as if Villain were in their head, they opted for an earlier set of notes before continuing on the song. The sheer coincidence of it made Heros heart race, and they worried Villain knew they were there. The way they played felt as if it were truly an extension of themself, an authentic side Hero hadn't the opportunity to know. To see their hands dance upon the keys pulled Hero like a magnet. Yet, they kept steady their breath, and listened with eager ears the song Villain was weaving together with their beautiful hands. Another pause, and instead of the familiar scratching of the pencil, there came a sigh from Villain.

"What do you think of it so far, Hero?" They asked, their tone even and collected. "I know you're here. The bench was warm when I sat on it and I didn't play before I left."

Hero looked to the door with wide eyes, yet said nothing. This was a bluff. All they had to do was lay low and the suspicion would die down. There was a beat of silence within the apartment. Only the hum of the steady rain outside offered any cushion to the quiet. The bench creaked, and before Hero knew it, the door to the closet opened. They looked at them with an amused, yet tired expression.

"The closet has never been your style before, why now?" They mused as they stepped aside.

Hero looked them up and down with suspicion, yet quickly realized the Villain they battled only a few months ago was not as spry as they once were. Their hair was grown out and dyed (which admittedly to Hero, looked very flattering), their sharper fashion sense was swapped for casual apparel, the sheer fire which burned behind their eyes was dulled. In all their years together, Hero never seen Villain this low. Hero moved out of the closet and backed up from them, careful of the boxes.

"What are you.." Hero stopped, and their brows furrowed once the concern broke through. "What happened to you?"

Villain shrugged and moved passed by Hero. They began to move some of the papers off the couch and into boxes. Villains expression was unreadable as they moved aside the plans they put together to bring Heros demise, only to be evenly matched in the end. It was always how it went. Always something to bring them back together, but never fully together. In all their years, so many altercations ended with someone on the end of the blade or barrel, but so many more coincidences prevented everything from ever truly ending.

"Am I a waste of time to you, Hero?"

"I... what?"

"You can be honest," Villain said while boxing up papers. "I'll still keep fucking you regardless. It's never been a problem for me in the past."

Heros face heated up as they observed the casualness of Villains quips. There was bubbling anger and confusion at the assumption of what they had going on. Where was Villain planning on taking all of this?

"Where is this all coming from, Villain?" They questioned carefully.

Villain smiled and shook their head before sitting on the couch, patting the spot beside them. "You didn't answer my question."

"I'd much rather like context for what I'm answering first, if you don't mind." Hero retorted, yet compromised by sitting on the couch. "Besides, you didn't answer mine..."

"Your question, Hero?" They asked pointedly, before taking a deep breath to rub their face in fatigued irritation. "I got tired, that is what happened. Tired of these excuses of plans which get us into whatever loft I happen to be renting at the time. I don't have another plan for you to take back. I get you're hot shot at the agency, and you have a sort of 'reputation' to uphold, but it's been years. Aren't you bored?"

This was no rouse Villain was trying to pull. Hero didn't consider how repetitive their routine had been. They would meet, one would compromise plans for the other, and would only barely 'get away' according to Intel. Once the mics were off, what they did remained between them and the walls of the many bedrooms they found themselves in.

"I didn't know you played piano," Hero softly said, glancing at the piano then to Villain. "I find all the years more... worth it, because after everything, I'm still learning about you."

It clearly hadn't been the answer Villain was expecting because their head turned to fully meet Heros, and they looked at them with a look of near disbelief and skepticism. Their hands found their way into one another, fitting together as if made to be two parts of one whole.

"But why does it always have to be through a mission?"

They sucked in their breath, their hand gripping Villains hand tighter. The hesitance was enough to tell them all they needed to know. They both wanted more than moments together, however, it seemed only one was ready to make the sacrifice to make it happen. Villain sighed and used the grip they shared to pull Hero into their arms, their eyes choosing to fixate on the rain outside the window.

"I thought you didn't like the city?"

"I don't- it's too noisy, polluted, and not enough trees," they huffed with a sigh, a leisurely hand rubbing circles on Heros back. "I don't mind the rain though."

"It made it harder to find you..." Hero mumbled, their head resting on Villains shoulder. "You're always doing something I don't quite expect."

Villain chuckled, and before they could think themselves out of it, they leaned down to capture Heros lips against theirs in the familiar pressed passion they were accustomed to. The couch was small, but accommodated the closeness of their sweating bodies, and the rhythmic pace Villain set for the evening. What they had wasn't enough for Villain, but what they had was better than not having it at all. They got their answer from Hero, one way or another, and even if they didn't like it, they understood what needed to happen for them to maintain what they had.

By the time Hero awoke, more tired and sore than when they initially fell asleep, they saw the apartment was completely empty, save for the furniture and basic decor items. The piles of boxes were nowhere to be seen and the piano was gone. There was not a trace of Villain, save for torn out piece of paper on the coffee table.

Autumn in Washington Square

A smile curled on their lips as they looked at the completed sheet music in their hands, but it soon faded and their hand fell to their lap. They got dressed after noticing their clothes neatly folded on the end of the couch. Hero pocketed the note, and left the apartment complex. The rain had let up by the morning. A voice finally came through on the mic as Hero walked down the street to their car.

"Hero! Thank god, you're okay! What happened?"

"The apartment was already empty by the time I got in there, and Villain never returned from their trip. When I left, my earpiece fell in a puddle and I had to dry it in rice overnight," They said casually, and their frustration helped in convincing intel. "The only thing they left behind was a note about Washington Square."

"The park in New York? Where do you want our people to start looking first, Hero?"

'I don't like cities'

'Too much noise and pollution'

'Not enough trees'

'I don't mind the rain'

"Start looking for Villain in the dense metropolitan areas. Near the power plants or chemical labs. There will be a dense population so it's best to take your time." They assured, before clicking off their mic.

Once in their car, sheltered from the rain, Hero pressed their forehead against the steering wheel. At least this would bide some time, like always. Hero was tired of this too, though they did not voice it immediately to Villain. With the eyes of the agency looking to the East, Hero sped towards the West. Their mind wracked at how they were going to make it up to them, for having thought they were a waste of time, but Hero had plenty of time during the quiet car ride to think about it.

[clever-fox-studios]

Chapter 7

The breadth of knowledge that Sun found himself lacking was far more vast and profound than he ever imagined. In merely a shake of the day–-or roughly 100 minutes to anyone not on Adir Standard Time–-he’d been introduced to no less than twenty different variations of wild grass, four edible roots, and six ‘trust me, don’t touch it’ varieties of leaf and flower that he’d never heard of, let alone seen before. Jenn was more than willing to explain each of them with enough prodding, he found, though he felt just a bit guilty about regularly pinging Moon with a distance reading to enable his brother’s paranoid snooping. Despite this, he found himself to be enjoying the outing.

It was fun !

Just as well, it was a chance to try and understand the odd human just a bit more without Moon breathing down his neck with words of caution. I love you dearly, my brother, but there are days, he thought to himself with a touch of shame for being harsh, even if it was just to himself. Though I’m not helping I suppose…

Sun sighed.

“You alright?” Jenn lifted her head from the shrub she was picking through, wiping her brow with the back of the glove on her organic arm.

He hadn’t realized he’d made a sound. “Oh! Yes!” Quickly, he picked his way over the tangle of roots and dirt, amused at how it felt like steps to a bizarre dance at times with how he had to maneuver to avoid stepping on something unsavory.

“Not bored?”

“Never!” Crouching, gangly legs splayed to avoid hitting anything, he peered at the mass of puffy leaves she tended to while doing a binocular comparison–-one eye was focused on the shape and color of the vegetation, the other analyzing his store of information for direct comparison until it found a match. Often this was a feature used for color-correcting or aligning cut patterns of paper and fabric but it worked fantastically for identifying plants and berries–-delightful! This one didn’t have a match yet; he smiled. “What’s this one?”

Carefully, Jenn pulled a tangle of leaves from the bush, the ‘branch’ unfurling into a long vine-like wisp heavy with fat, round leaves that had a grayish tint on them. She coiled the base of the vine around her mechanical fingers and ran it through her hand, the bulbs popping free without a hint of resistance to fall into the basket beneath her. The air smelled of clean linen and spring water suddenly. “Soap leaves,” she answered once the harvest was stashed, a woven mat placed over the top of them within the basket to keep them separate from other collectibles. “They’re super convenient and grow just about everywhere; when they're ready to use, they get that silvery color on their skin. You can peel them, juice ‘em, crush them in your hand–-they lather up with water and make you smell super clean. Great natural deodorant.”

“Deodorant?”

She had a wry grin on her ace. “You might not sweat or smell but we humans tend to have funny odors after a long day of work.”

“Oh? I’ve never noticed.” Most of high society did their best to be presentable at all times, though he vaguely wondered if too much perfume counted as body odor. Nevermind the fact he could simply disengage one of his senses whenever it became overwhelming.

“Lucky.” Standing up, Jenn gathered the materials she’d removed from the basket and gently placed them back inside: woven mats that acted as separators, a small kit of pruning tools, a smaller pack of ointment and bandages, plus a handful of other random things had been stored inside the large carrying basket until needed. Whenever Jenn wanted to harvest something, she set the basket down, pulled the tools out, took a bit of what she needed, then put the tools back, always careful to not throw or drop anything. Sometimes, Sun thought, he would hear her humming but never loud enough for him to point it out.

Rising gracefully, Sun placed his hands under the basket as she lifted it up, reflexively trying to assist though she didn’t need it. After four attempts where he couldn’t stop himself, she’d given up trying to correct him and simply allowed it, the basket creaking under its growing weight as she used her head and neck to support it through the underbrush. It seemed dangerous to do too often, but the gold robot wasn’t nearly brave enough to tell her that for fear of running out her patience with him. How she hadn’t yet was a gift he wasn’t intending to look in the mouth. “So, um…” Jenn turned her head slightly to indicate she heard him, her step never breaking as they rounded a stand of trees. “All of this… foraging? Do you do this every day?”

She rose up a few inches while stepping onto a particularly large root, then dropped back down; Sun was able to stride over it fairly easily with his long legs, clearing it like a balance beam. “Well, sort of. Harvesting every day is bad for the plants, but I don’t clear them off when I need them cuz that’s wasteful. I just keep track of what I need and know where to find it and collect only that much. This area is consistently temperate so the plants stay in bloom year-round as long as the aurora cooperates.”

“That must be extremely convenient!”

“It is.” The trees ended abruptly, breaking onto a stretch of sand and grass along a small lake. Sun stopped, awestruck at the vision of the aurora reflecting in the water, barely realizing Jenn was still walking until she started talking again. “It’s why I stayed here to build my base.”

Blinking hard to snap out of his gawking, Sun trotted up to shrink the distance between them. “You–-you built this place? Alone?”

She shrugged, gazing at the water for a moment in thought. “Salvaged, if you want to get technical. It was gutted and falling apart when I found it but the basic house structure was already there. I patched it up in my spare time, moved in and stayed put.”

“That’s… incredible!”

A humorous laugh escaped her. “I mean, sure? I guess? Dragged thing still leaks like a–-” Jenn paused for just a moment to avoid cursing unnecessarily, aware her tag-along didn't seem to care for it. “Like an old boat when it rains but it’s home.”

Jenn slowed to a stop, gaze on the treeline ahead of them, which allowed Sun to fully catch up without having to hurry, hoping to keep the discussion going. Moon would be pleased with any information he got, surely! “How long have-–”

“Sh.”

Sun froze completely at the chaste sound, feeling a bit of panic well up inside that made his rays retract slightly. Had he upset her? Was she going to chastise him? Or worse-–?

Slowly, Jenn placed the basket down at the foot of a tree and rolled the front of her skirt up, using the back panel as a belt to tie and tuck it out of the way. With eerie silence and a half crouch, she slipped into the underbrush along the tree line, the green and brown colors of her clothes blending her into the leaves and dirt just enough to make her hard to keep track of. The panic Sun felt shifted immediately from worry for upsetting her to raw survival. Something was in the forest with them.

Was he supposed to follow? She hadn’t said-–was it a trap?? Would he be left to fend for himself??

A branch snapped somewhere.

It took everything in his system to withhold the shriek he wanted to let out, hands covering his mouth to block the sound from escaping.

~

Locked.

Moon scowled, sliding his hand up and down the door to look for any secret hinge or panel to press that would open it without the passcode. No such luck. Fingers drumming on the metal door for a moment, he huffed and rose, feeling along the seams of the frame.

Nothing.

A tip-tap got him to turn, only slightly surprised to find Rukbat staring at him curiously, wrong ear flopping at the tip as he titled his copper brown head as if to say ‘what’cha doin’?’ Putting his hand to his hips, Moon considered the fact that he could be getting spied on with the canine present, but couldn’t be mad about it. It was simply doing as it should by guarding its mistress’s secrets from nosey visitors.

“I don’t suppose you can let me in, can you?” he wondered, not expecting an answer. Why was he even talking to this thing?

Rukbat whined.

“Didn’t think so.” Backing up from the door, Moon turned on his heel and began to walk away, listening for footsteps. When none came by the time he got down to the yard, the navy snoop looked up to the part of the patio still visible from where he stood, seeing the canine’s head poking out from between the rails. After a moment, Rukbat slid back and turned, out of sight. Moving to try and see up more, Moon could just barely make out the tops of the doors the Sirius was next to, the ones he’d just come from.

One led to the kitchen, he knew that already after seeing it at breakfast, but the other one beside it was sealed tight with no other doors that he could find. Whatever it guarded was a part of the house he had yet to see, and with her warning about locked doors he had to assume it was a private area. A bedroom, or perhaps a study? Something that may have answers for him.

Rukbat’s nails tapped the patio as it wandered out of sight, then scratched on something. A rush of air–-Moon squinted, seeing the sliver of the locked door vanish for a moment. What?! Hurrying, he stomped up the steps, three at a time, sliding into the rail as he circled back to the set of doors, disbelieving.

They were shut.

With a quick check, he found it the same as a moment ago: no handle, no panel, still in need of a wireless access code. “Draggit-–” he hissed, hitting the rail with his hand. Did… I just get punked by a dog ? Drumming his fingers once more, Moon made an annoyed sound in his throat, both impressed and embarrassed.

He was not telling Sun about that.

Changing objectives to try and salvage his dignity, Moon made his way to the lounge, intending to comb through the papers and notes strewn about. She was so eager for that binder in here, maybe there’s something else? Jenn had gotten short with them after their sit-down in the grass, her eyes darting about as if looking for or avoiding something. In an unexpected burst of speed, she’d gotten ahead of them on the way inside, which prompted Moon to follow quickly to figure out what she was doing. They’d nearly collided as she ducked out of the lounge, a massive, black binder full of laminated paper breaking their contact with a whump .

That thing was dense.

She’d slid off to the side, telling them to relax without another peep on their situation, and escaped before he could stop her, locking herself in the white container–-

Moon stopped shifting through papers–-something about the practical uses of a wood fungus native to the boglands miles from here-–as he pondered over the white block of metal under the patio. The human had already brought equipment out of it once and managed to spend an entire resting time locked inside doing something or other that put her in a good mood. It couldn’t be a storage shed, could it?

Idiot.

Dropping the paper, Moon left quickly, hopping the railings with practiced grace to land as lightly as he could on the lawn. Unsurprisingly, the white block was sealed tight, just like the door, but he had time to burn. Starting at the front, Moon began to systematically search for cracks or wires across the outer wall, maybe an emergency key or passcode hint scribbled somewhere that went unnoticed. Humans often had odd habits like that so he hoped this human was just odd enough to be prone to the same silly idea.

He looked and looked–-right up until the panic set in suddenly, nearly knocking him prone with dizziness. Not his own panic however.

Sun’s.

~

Crack.

Sun took a quick step back, feeling his gears and wires screeching again-– run.

RUN!

Something creaked–-he turned to the motion above his head, hands trembling. Burning.

He could defend himself.

He could–-

In a lithe motion, Jenn swung herself from the creaking branch and landed on the balls of her feet, knees bent to disperse the impact and muffle the sound of her return. Before he could even process what was happening, Sun was silenced by her finger at her mouth, staving off his attempt to ask anything; baffled, he crept over when she waved, keeping low as she led him into the trees.

I’m dead, he frantically chanted, Moon was right, she’s crazy, I’m dead.

Her hand came out and he stilled, watching her movements with every scrap of focus he could muster beyond his confusion and panic. It was remarkable how quiet she could be when climbing, easing herself into the tree overhead, eyes on something beyond the wall of shrubbery that carpeted the forest floor. It got more bizarre when she looked down and pointed to her head, making some sort of gesture it took a moment for him to decipher.

My rays? Hide… hide my rays?

Uncertain, he shut off the process that controlled the haptic array, withdrawing the light spokes into the seam of his head. It was darker than he thought without them. He didn't like it.

Motioning again, Jenn indicated he should move to the space below the branch, just beyond the bushes. Nervously, he did so, sending one last location ping to his brother so he could have hope some part of him would be recovered. Being silent in the overgrowth was quite a task with his long frame, but Sun managed well enough not to get hushed again, crouching between the roots of the gnarled blue-wood tree Jenn was perched in. Maybe if he were quick enough he could jump-–

Finger to her lips once more, Jenn slowly pointed, splayed out on her belly across the arm of the great tree to minimize herself. Staring into her eyes for a moment and seeing no ill intent–-he hoped-–the golden bot turned his head so very carefully, bracing for something awful.

His exhaust cycle paused.

Through the leaves of the canopy, the aurora’s light took on far more colors than it usually had, all flickering as the trees shifted in unseen winds. Greens and blues and oranges taken from leaves and flowers danced through the air on the way to the ground, bugs humming curious tunes to each other that filled the forest with its own unique heartbeat. None of that mattered so much, though, compared to the massive creature standing between the trees; almost as tall at the head as he was when standing, with a furry pelt a shade of blue usually reserved for deep water, the creature grazed idly, unbothered by anything going on around it at that moment. Great, curling antlers of sapphire and diamond dust twisted over its head, catching the light from the falling leaves in such a way, Sun felt he would cry if he could. It turned slightly, chewing-–the dark eyes of the beast found him.

He froze.

The animal-–a great stag of sorts–-grunted, nose flaring. Only then did another head appear behind it, ears pivoting at the sound. Sun counted three of them as he waited to see if they would charge or flee, one without a curling crown of gems and another much smaller one, hiding between their legs. It was with awe and joy that he realized it was a family.

Suddenly, all three lifted their heads, ears rotating to one direction collectively as they stood stock still. The male grunted again, shaking his great neck; light seeped up through the curls and points of its crown, a blinding flash making Sun look away for a moment. When it cleared, the deer had fled, the trees thumping and shaking under their hooves as they disappeared into the depths of the wood. Such an interesting survival tactic!

“SUN!”

Faintly, the familiar voice of his brother caught his ear, somewhere back where he’d just come from. Getting up from his vantage point, the gangly bot moved back through the shrubbery to the lakeside, his radials fluttering to their rightful place–-not two seconds later, Moon’s footfalls thundered to him as he broke cover, bare feet sliding to a stop on the lush grass and sand. “Sun!” he repeated with some relief, his pulse points flashing and fading from his distress. Before his brother could answer, Moon had hold of his shoulders, looking him over. “Are you alright? What happened??”

Sun wobbled as he was turned by Moon’s frantic examination of his person. Catching himself before he could fall, Sun gently clasped the dark robot’s hands between his to try to assure the worrywart he was fine–-but hesitated, grin faltering slightly on his face as the desire to tell Moon what happened caught in his voice box. In a fraction of a second, Sun changed his answer. “I-I’m fine! I…”

A thump in the grass nearby revealed Jenn emerging from the forest, dusting herself off and fixing her skirt to hang like it should, a piece of underbrush being plucked off absently. The pair acknowledged her appearance with a glance, forcing Sun to interject before she said anything.

“There you are!”

Jenn looked up from her dusting, brow creased for a moment, seeing the tight expression on the golden bot and the annoyed one of the blue jerk.

Placing his hand on Moon’s shoulder, Sun went on, “I’m sorry, Moon, I got separated and lost sight of Jenn. I… didn’t mean to worry you.”

OH! Jenn realized with a start, finishing her realignment of her clothes after the tree messed them up to buy time to cover her reaction. “I didn’t think it would be so easy to lose you in the woods, bright eyes. A seven-foot-tall Sunrise with a halo on his head should be pretty easy to keep track of.”

“I’m sorry,” Sun reiterated, folding his hands together apologetically. “I got distracted and then you were gone and this forest is a lot bigger than…” Glancing to the side, Sun saw the wary glint in Moon’s yellow eyes. “Than the yard… um, there’s a… distinct lack of fences out here!” Moon sighed at his prattling.

“There’s a lack of a lot of things out here,” the human agreed, playing off the situation with the plain casualness they’d come to expect from her at this point. She hefted the basket up to its position on her head with a slight grunt.

Unwilling to expend more energy into dissecting the conversation, Moon closed his eyes for a moment and forced himself to let it go. “I think,” he started, half through his teeth, “that’s enough for today, don’t you think?”

“Oh?” Sun chirped, not wanting that to be the case.

“I mean, I’m not done yet but if you want to go back you can.” Walking past them both, Jenn idly pointed through the trees toward the house, heading to a completely different area of the forest without a glance back.

“Wait!” Sun blurted, taking a step after her before Moon grabbed hold of his wrist, forcing him to stop. Silently, the two prodded each other through their Lock, each trying to convince the other to go the way they wanted; Moon’s eyes flicked toward the house, wanting to discuss things privately, but Sun turned his cheek to indicate following Jenn, as he wanted to keep learning and familiarize himself with the land around the house. It was a stalemate between them for some seconds until Jenn coughed to get their attention.

She’d paused at the treeline and waited, as asked, but she seemed put off by their refusal to follow, her gaze dull, mouth turned in a frown. “Well?”

Taking the moment to change his grip on Sun, Moon tugged, bringing his brother back a step. “I think that’s enough excitement for right now,” he claimed firmly. “Let’s go back, Sun.”

“He’s fine,” she quipped dismissively. “It’s not like he got hurt or anything.”

“That’s not the point.” Moon took his own step toward the house, pulling Sun off balance slightly as he did so the golden robot would stumble after him. “It’s been long enough for our first day.”

“Give him some credit.” Jenn turned her body to face them fully, her stance changing subtly as she moved from one foot to the other. Moon felt his inner coils tense in anticipation, something in her movements forcing an alert in the backmost part of his mind, as if preparing for a fight. “He’s picking up on foraging incredibly fast and wants to keep going. Since he’s not hurt and his battery is full, I think he can choose to stay out if he really wants to.”

“And Sun has a bad habit of being an overachiever who doesn’t know when to quit,” Moon pressed, looking at his brother whose gaze dropped to the ground, knowing it was true. “It’s the first day,” he added, a bit gentler as he saw his brother wilt slightly. “There’ll be time to learn more later.”

As much as he wanted to fight, to speak up for himself, the weight of his lie and the worry in Moon’s voice stripped Sun of the energy to do so in moments, leaving only the ability to placate them both with an answer. “You might be right, Moon,” he agreed quietly, stepping closer to his brother of his own volition.

“Alright then.” Shrugging, Jenn turned and disappeared into the trees without further argument, leaving them to find their way to the house alone.

Sun allowed himself to be tugged back to the familiarity of the yard, unable to bring himself to even look at Moon’s back. There was a wrongness in the air between them, a wall that shouldn’t be there-–he’d put it there by lying, he felt. Lying to spare Moon’s feelings-–to stop him from having more reason to unfairly hate the human that was keeping them safe-–or perhaps lying just to make himself feel better. More capable. In fractions of a second, Sun had chosen to lie about his willingness to follow the strange human into the forest because he thought it would cause Moon more stress and provoke a fight.

How tired he was of fighting already.

Moon was already so strung out and he was being foolish, careless with his safety and choices which were making it even harder on them both. With regret, Sun recalled how easily he’d cracked under the pressure just recently and how Moon stopped everything to ensure he was alright. The fatigue that set in had been all-consuming and heavy, dragging him into sleep without even an attempt to fight it. If that had been his feelings, Sun could scarcely imagine what the stress was doing to his beloved brother under the surface, beyond where their Lock could reach. Feelings that made Moon tense and angry and mistrustful, hardly what he knew his brother to be capable of-–or had been at least.

Before, Moon was a calming presence, laid back and hard to bother with most things. Sun recalled how much he appreciated the gentle presence of Moon after an event or an ordeal, always there, never stressing the details if Sun wouldn’t share them. A snappy joke and steady hand at his back could help him relax from anything that happened within the walls of the estate, but somewhere along the way, Sun found changes. Worried looks, concerned squeezes, fewer musings in the halls where ears couldn’t hear them-–at some point, the stress had begun to eat away at Moon long before now. It was just far worse recently. More obvious.

Sun knew it was his fault.

I should be doing better, he told himself as they finally reached the grassy swath of the yard, Moon’s grip on him loosening. I will do better. Before he could slip away too far, Sun quickly stepped forward, grabbing his brother in a tight hug that caught the navy-and-night hued robot off guard. “I’m sorry,” the golden half of the pair croaked, radials fluttering. “I didn’t… mean to worry you.”

After a second, Moon melted, his anger washing away at the worry and regret in his brother’s voice. Gently, he wrapped his arms around the lanky bot and held tight, clearing his mind before he could reply. “I know you didn’t.” Pulling back, Moon held his brother’s shoulders carefully, meeting his teal irises with concern and authority. “This is not a place to play, Sun. I know you’re excited to get out and I appreciate you keeping her occupied so I can look around but you need to remember this isn’t the backyard and not a vacation. We don’t know what’s out there and I don’t want you getting overwhelmed in your excitement when I’m not there to help you.”

The reflex to argue he’d be fine came and went as Sun held it in, only nodding as Moon was right to an extent. There was so much to do and learn and see, and he’d been so understimulated for so long the chance of his system going into a critical shutdown wasn’t impossible. Just another thing Sun hadn’t considered that was worrying his brother needlessly.

Carefully, Moon pulled Sun’s head down, their foreheads touching softly as they both calmed themselves, trying to strengthen their Lock against the wear and tear of their mutual stress. Moon hoped Sun would understand that this situation needed to be taken seriously and handled with care; Sun promised to them both he would be more careful, though more to himself than Moon. If he tried hard enough, he could manage his stress and his behaviors so Moon would have one less thing to worry about. It was the least he could do, Sun felt, having already caused enough problems simply by being himself and having no self control.

“You’re alright?” Moon’s voice was quiet.

“I am,” Sun replied just as quietly. “Did… you find anything?”

Sighing, Moon pulled back and turned, seeming annoyed. “No. The door locks are wireless and I don’t know the code so I couldn’t get in anywhere.”

“Oh…” Sun rubbed his neck. “Well… there’s time, I suppose? Maybe Jenn will… maybe I can ask to go out again tomorrow?”

Moon flopped into the grass, sitting back in a way that faintly reminded Sun of the old, relaxed Moon he remembered. “Think she will?”

“Maybe?” Following suit, Sun folded his legs and dropped lightly, leaning on one arm. “It took a bit but after I asked enough questions, Jenn seemed to open up and was happy to explain. Maybe if I ask for more, she’ll go out to tell me?”

Brow raised, Moon wondered, “She didn’t get annoyed?”

Sun shrugged. “If she did, she kept it to herself. At first I thought I was just bad at asking questions–-”

“Doubtful,” Moon cut in jokingly, earning a faint smile from Sun.

“--but then it felt more like…” His hand waved a bit as he searched for the words to use. “Like she was being short on purpose. I almost gave up on it entirely until she slipped up talking about sweetleaf.”

“Isn’t that what sugar is made of?”

Nodding, Sun skimmed the file he’d made on the plant quickly. “Apparently it grows all over the place if the orbura tree is around.”

“The what?”

Reaching up, Sun began to gesture, excitement growing. “Those big blueish trees with the leaves that have fuzzy, gray undersides?” Moon nodded, knowing the ones Sun meant. They were common decorations around E’rta, visible on most corners from the windows of the estate. “So apparently that gray fuzz forms from extra sugars in the tree being stored for later use, but when the leaves fall the sugar doesn’t go anywhere. Sweetleaf grows where the sugary leaves collect to recycle the excess so it doesn’t go to waste; when they die, the tree reabsorbs the sugar from the soil and starts it over, like a recycling system.”

Moon stared, baffled. “You learned that while looking for food?”

Nodding more enthusiastically, Sun’s smile broke through genuinely. “I didn’t even know sweetleaf made sugar sweetener–-well, I did but not how or that it’s not even the thing making the sweet part itself! Jenn was collecting some and I asked what it was, and at first it was a short answer like before but after I asked how to turn it into sweetener–-oh! That container!” Pointing to the house, Moon jumped a bit as Sun grew more excited. “That’s all made by Jenn!”

“Huh,” Moon mused, resting his elbows on his knees while waiting for Sun to continue, glad the abrasive mood seemed to be passing.

“She told me how to process it in a double boiler and how it grows under the trees–-but then she kind of stopped.”

“Stopped?”

Now concerned as he recalled his day more clearly, Sun mumbled a bit. “It was like she realized she was talking too much and just... Quit. I feel like maybe she’s used to not sharing things with others.”

No surprise there. A tad bitterly, Moon huffed, rolling his eyes. Sun was still going on about something but he couldn’t help his thoughts straying to his own day and how comparatively lacking it was in results. Nevermind the fact he was still outwitted by a Sirius of all things. Pathetic, he told himself, barely noticing his brother mention something or other about the forest and the colors of the light through the trees. If he wanted to soothe his bruised ego, he’d need another chance to learn something worth sharing. For that, he’d need another chance to explore. Catching a lull in the conversation, Moon decided to interject, “If you’ve gotten this much out of just one day, then I’d say it’s worth trying again tomorrow. Or later, even.”

Sun paused, feeling a bit happy that Moon thought his info dump was worthwhile. “You think so?”

“We’ll need as much as we can get if we’re going to be on our own eventually.”

On our own.

The words were heavy and incomprehensibly sticky, attaching to everything Sun had shared thus far and managing to drag them out of the levity and excitement of learning something new down to the echoing, muted cavern of worry he’d been desperate to stay out of the entire time. There, it stayed, thick and cold. Despite knowing it somewhere deep inside, Sun couldn’t help the gear-wrenching anxiety the idea of being alone gave him, even if it was alone with Moon, which was simply normal and expected. However, no matter how used to being with Moon he was, Sun was also used to rarely being isolated indefinitely from outside contact. Hired hands were around every corner, gatherings were frequent enough to be part of the weekly schedule, visitors were few but frequent in between-–brief periods of them being alone were rare. Now, being expected to have it as the default brought dread into his system.

Likely to do with his programming which was made specifically to be around and entertain guests, encouraging him to seek human interaction as a priority, Sun pushed back on it, unwilling to sabotage himself or his brother with confusing feelings of duty and purpose that he wasn’t completely sure were his own. Fighting one’s own ingrained sense of self was horrid, itchy and wrong, full of dust almost that clouded one’s train of thought into senseless background screeching.

It didn’t matter what he thought he wanted. What they needed was to fix the mistake he made by being a coward and get as far away from that woman as possible. Maybe one day the wrongness would go away, or fade into little more than a mild grievance in the deepest corner of his mind.

Maybe one day he would know if it was his own desire to be in human company that begged him to stay in this odd house in the jungle, or if it was simply the result of programming forced onto him from before he ever came online the first time.

~

A lot of life was dark. Or it felt that way so far to the pair who stood patiently in the atrium, only their eyes alight in the dimness. ‘Keep your radials down’ the Sunrise had been told, as they would draw too much attention otherwise and ruin the surprise. The inner flurry of codes and systems inside him buzzed excitedly to finally be allowed to fulfill his purpose after the long journey from the facility; he so wanted to reach out through the dark and take hold of the other unit standing nearby, to remind himself he wasn’t alone in this chamber, but he couldn’t.

Wait, they were told.

The yellow glint in the dark was enough for now, he told himself. The other unit–-Moondrop, his Tidally Locked partner-–was there with him, just as quiet and, if his inner hum meant anything, just as eager. They were never far from each other, not in the short time they’d been active, so there was no reason to believe now was any different. It was even dark, like the first time they became aware of each other...

***

Coming online for the first time was a slow process; awareness of one’s limbs always came before any sense of space or outside assessment. File after file opened and ran in quick succession, demanding fingers and toes be moved, passive processes being read for anomalies, systems cycled through checkmark after checkmark to ensure they cooperated properly. Somewhere between this initial calibration and wanting to open his eyes, something else rippled through like an echo.

Sunrise.

That was him! A sunrise. A star.

Happiness flashed in his system at knowing himself. A tickle followed his elation, some quiet repetition of his joy that felt just a bit different. Feeling that extra nudge of emotion took his attention from his waking process for just a moment, drawing him deeper into himself. What was it? He wanted to know! Mustering the sensation as best he could, Sunrise urged his emotional code to run again; the echo answered faintly, bringing another wave of happiness that it mirrored. Each pass made Sunrise want to skip and laugh! To stay in this place with the little echo of his own happiness forever!

“Hello?”

Startled by the feeling of his own voice, Sunrise waited for the echo to respond. For a long moment, there was nothing. Fretting he’d scared it off, the robot tried to summon his joy again, to share it into the void and see if that brought an answer–-but he couldn’t. Afraid that his echo had vanished had left him empty, too much to be able to express that fleeting feeling of light and positivity.

Then it answered.

“It’s alright.”

The echo sounded nothing like him, to his surprise. While his own voice was high and light, with clear notes that felt like they could reach deep into the darkness and find the edges easily, this one was lower, soft but creaky as if someone had just woken up.

“I’m here.”

Sunrise peered around, unsure where ‘here’ was. “Where?”

“Next to you.”

There was no one, though. Pulling himself from the deep depths of himself, Sunrise reeled as his systems continued their processes around him–-breathing, cycling, flexing–-but he found what he felt he needed by clinging to his dexterity processes. Just enough to move his fingers. Turn his hand.

A cool sensation flickered through his system check, his hand coming into contact with something outside of himself that was not part of the flurry of self-diagnostics he was dealing with. The feeling grew as the thing also moved, his fingers being laced into something firm and, inexplicably, familiar.

“Is that you?” Sunrise wondered, not fully expecting an answer.

One still came though, more of an impression than true words. “Yes.”

Joy washed through him again. He wanted these checks to finish so he could wake up! “I’m Sunrise!” he cheered, squeezing the cool thing between his fingers.

The pressure matched his as his hand was squeezed back. While the feelings weren’t as intensely directed as his, Sunrise still knew this echo was as pleased as he felt. “I’m Moondrop,” they replied. “I’m your brother.”

**

Since then, they hadn’t been apart, even when the lights went off and they were told to conduct a sleep cycle. Moondrop was there, only an arm’s length away.

But this time, they’d been told not to cling to each other, to stand presentably and behave.

Sunrise trusted in the familiar, yellow eyes of his brother that he was there, within reach in the dark, and he would still be there when the light returned and they finally got to meet their mistress. Finally, they could dance. Bring her joy. Sate this nagging urge to be with a human, at their side to make their life more colorful!

He was so excited he could hardly contain himself!

~

The tension had mostly gone during their chat and Sun wasn’t going to risk it coming back due to his own misplaced feelings, so he kept it to himself, shoving it as far back as he could into his mind. The outside air was pleasant at least, a balmy temperature without a lot of humidity to seep into the joints and make them squeak. Quietly, the pair of robots sat and tried to enjoy this feeling of wavering peace they were afforded amidst the tension that stalked their every movement like a scavenger waiting for one to fall so they could be consumed. Because of this quiet, they could hear the bugs and grass hum on the wind, the birds tweet and whistle in the trees–-

“Do you hear that?” Moon asked suddenly, glancing around slowly.

“The voice? Yeah, I do,” Sun replied, equally confused.

Just above the wind, they both swore there was a trill of music. Wordless, keening and distant, but there nonetheless, slowly getting clearer as it went. Getting… closer?

Moon was up in a blink, hands balled into fists as he strained to hear which direction it was coming from-–to no avail, the forest managing to mangle the source of the sound between the trees so it was impossible to know for sure where it was coming from. Hunched against the grass, Sun struggled to make out any words within the reverberation, leaving him unsure if it was an aria or a language he couldn’t decipher clearly. Whatever it was, it was beautiful but chilling to not know who or what was making it.

Though there was one possibility.

Suddenly, the sound stopped, leaving them more baffled than when it had started. A minute passed before the bushes rustled, Jenn and her basket coming into view from the far end of the yard. Moon was on her before she’d even gotten to the stairs, eyes flashing. “Did you hear that just now?”

“Hear what?” she replied to him, a bit perturbed by his question. Her basket was distended with weight now, creaking as she put it down with a grunt; at her waist, her skirt was tied up oddly, stretched from whatever she had wrapped up in the hem. Sun found that quite clever of her, using her skirt like an extra hand to carry something; perhaps that was why she called them gathering clothes?

“You can’t tell me you didn’t hear a voice singing in the woods just now.”

Jenn’s eyes widened with concern for a moment before returning to normal. “No, I didn't, and neither did you.”

Moon glared. “Are you saying that because it was you?”

She stared back, just as hard. “I’m saying that because out in the wilds, if you think you hear something singing or talking out in the woods and you can’t immediately see who or what it is, then no you didn’t.”

“Excuse me?”

“Believe me when I say you don’t want to know.”

Well, that’s terrifying, Sun said to himself, coming up to them both before Moon could press the matter. “Do you need help?”

Gathering her laden skirt front in her arms, Jenn nodded at him, seeming to relax. “If you’re careful, you can bring the basket to the kitchen.”

“Sure!” Without hesitation, Sun stooped, grabbing the bottom and hefting–he grunted, surprised at the registered weight. Carrying this on her head can’t be good for her back! Taking a step, Sun followed politely behind Jenn, walking slowly so he wouldn’t drop or jostle the woven burden in his arms. Behind him, Moon took to the steps, keeping back so they wouldn’t collide by accident.

Thankfully he was there. Sun slightly misstepped at the edge of the next stair, his heel buckling as his balance shifted wrongly. Quickly, Moon held up his hands and pushed on Sun’s back to keep him from taking a tumble.

“Thank you!” Sun squeaked, his system surging with panic from the near fall.

“Of course,” Moon replied back distractedly. Something was off. “Are you sure you’re alright? You’re never this clumsy.”

“I just missed the stair,” Sun assured, though he also wondered briefly if there wasn’t some issue he hadn’t noticed in his balancing system. Perhaps there really was a good reason for Jenn to keep them there for a few days after all.

“Yeah, and you don’t do that.” Keeping his wits sharp, Moon watched his brother finish the climb without further incident, prepared for another catch should it be needed. “We’re not made to trip and fall.”

“I know, it’s… probably because I’m not used to the stairs here.”

“Mm-hm.” Unwilling to risk it, Moon took a deep breath and swallowed his pride, finding Jenn already in her kitchen putting away round roots from the folds of her skirt front. She turned her head to them and indicated the table for the basket, about to relay instructions for what to do with the contents when Moon cut her off, voice firmer than intended for asking a question. “Is it possible that storm could mess up a balancing system?”

“Huh?” The human stared for a moment, processing his question. Annoyed at having to repeat himself, she ended up answering before he could. “Oh, yeah, absolutely. Why?”

Moon glanced at Sun who looked at the floor.

Making a throaty sound of thought, Jenn put the last starchy tuber away, wiped her hands on her skirt and put them on her hips. “Let me guess.”

Sun groaned. “I’m sure it’s nothing, Moon!”

To his surprise, both Jenn and Moon managed to simultaneously bark, “Doubt it,” at him in the same tone before glaring at each other confusedly. Had it been anything else, Sun would find it funny, but instead it only took away his ability to get someone on his side as they seemed to agree just long enough to double down on there being a problem.

“Geo-magnetic anomalies can cause all kinds of things to happen in computer systems,” Jenn went on once she broke eye contact with Moon. “It’s why Task Managers–-you guys-–are made with magnetically inert metal parts where possible. The ones that can’t be though, usually up here-–” She pointed to her head. “--are still completely at the mercy of the aurora. Why do you think anomaly bunkers are a thing? Bots and modified humans that are sensitive to the activity need them so their systems don’t get fried.” Sun flinched a bit. “Honestly, if you didn’t have something wrong with you after your little trip through the atmosphere I’d be more surprised.”

She wouldn’t be, knowing full well if they didn’t suffer side effects beyond physical damage it was because they weren’t built like normal robots, likely reinforced against the effects of the magnetic anomaly. But there was no way she’d admit that freely right now.

“Can it be fixed?” Moon asked, trying to hide his worry after the last issue hit a dead end due to technical limitations.

“Oh, absolutely.”

The confidence of her voice caught Moon off guard, the tension leaving him faster than anticipated.

“Thankfully, I already know it’s not a hardware issue since-–” She gestured up and down at them. “Ya know. Been there, fixed that. If I had to guess, he’s just not calibrated properly anymore.”

Sun squeaked confusedly, head tilting. “Eh?”

“Being whipped around at mach-stupid with no sense of up or down tends to mess up anyone’s sense of direction. It’s likely self-corrected by now to a functional degree after walking around, but given you both have advanced gyros made for fancy dancy stuff–-” Moon scowled, “--it’s likely just out of tune. Best way to fix it is to just practice.”

“Oh!” That was a relief, Sun’s shoulders heaving with a sigh. “Not a problem then!”

Thinking for a moment, Moon inquired, “So why am I fine?”

Jenn shrugged after thinking. “Lucky I guess?”

“I’m never lucky.”

“Well, out here maybe you are. Now scoot.” Shooing at them, Jenn started to unpack her basket, sorting its contents from the top carefully to have reason to ignore further questions.

Ever the helpful one, Sun leaned over. “Can… we help?”

Pointing to the door, Jenn replied plainly, “Appreciated but maybe go work on that gyro thing if you want something to do.”

“Ah.” Perturbed by her change in mood, Sun stepped back, Moon at his side as they exited.

Under his breath, Moon hissed, “Rude,” but got shushed as they returned to the yard.

Side-eyeing them carefully, Jenn stopped her sorting once they were out of sight, just barely visible through the window as they descended the steps to the outside. That was awfully obedient of them, she pondered, rubbing her chin in thought. It might be nothing but if they’re only half awake then that’s a problem on its own. Leaning on the table, her eyes danced around the kitchen in time to her strings of thought.

Jenn knew full well why the anomaly didn’t mess with the Moondrop’s balancing system, but what got her more curious was the consistency with which he seemed to play dumb about it. It was reaching ‘beyond a shadow of a doubt’ territory that these two runaways absolutely did not know what they were, and that was deeply concerning. I tell myself not to mess around with this stuff anymore and yet there’s always something, isn’t there? she told herself bitterly. I need to get them as far away from their target area as possible before something happens. If they went rogue before their goal was achieved then there’s probably someone out there looking for them right now to finish it. If they don’t know their mission and ran off for their own reasons, as aware AI tends to do, then they also don’t know the conditions needed to fulfill their task. That’s bad. Very, very bad.

Hand over her mouth, Jenn reviewed her mental notes thoroughly, making a list of facts for herself.

One: They were not normal Task Managers. Not according to the component catalog she kept in the giant black binder in her lab.

Two: They did not know they were not normal. That for all intents and purposes, they should not exist as they do.

Three: She was not their objective. It simply didn’t make sense if she was.

And four: She couldn’t not help them. That wasn’t who she was.

If everything went well, there was a chance she could remove the problematic factors altogether and they would never know. A normal life was what they wanted, and she could give it to them. It was the right thing to do.

But they needed to trust her first.

[feraecor]

Gargoyle Squad: "That Kid"

Adularian "Moonee" Vivem is the youngest gargoyle working outside of the clan homes at 427 years old. His first name is a bit of a tongue twister so clan members took to calling him "Moonee" because he was named after moonstones.

Moonee is snarky, all too self-confident and an absolute team player when it comes to helping the clan, the squad or the organization. He's the type to take a blood vow to prove his loyalty (not that Y'qive's syndicate requires such archaic practices, legal contracts are much more binding nowadays). Given the grunt jobs, Moonee literally mopped floors and washed dishes and folded towels. Anything and everything, this kid was the jack of all trades! He wanted to prove himself. One day, a regular security maneuver went haywire and Moonee saw a rival of the group sneaking about taking surveillance pictures of their more...unsavory activities. Moonee took it upon himself to apprehend the guy and alert the squad to all the discrepancies. Working his way up allowed him to see gaps and remain unseen and underestimated.

Now, he is the stealth expert and assassin of the squad. Moonee learned much if not most of his skills required for the job from Zonas, Voth and Poli. Because of his innate talent for remaining unseen unless he wanted to be noticed, Y'qive took it upon herself to teach him spy tactics and more secure techniques in espionage. Master of disguise, close combat expert, eager to learn. Moonee's the puppy and the annoying little brother all rolled into one!

Moonee is still a bit young. When he's not under a professional glamour, his ears are usually pointed, tail and wings are often visible, with his eyes flowing iridescently. He's proud to be a gargoyle and will often correct people if they guess his species wrong. At 5'8", he's lithe and whipcord strong, a match for Zonas in size and strength. He makes up for what he doesn't have in strength with quick wit, cockiness and no small charm.

[saintedcooper]

It's Dangerous Business Walking Out Your Front Door (Francis Ch2 | Frank Castle x Reader 1940s AU)

New York, 1949. You’re a waitress trying to find your place in the world and get your footing at your new job. That is, when you’re not being very distracted by the handsome, mysterious writer who frequents the diner.

Chapter Summary: It’s your day off from the diner and you’re still trying to process what Francis said to you last night. Luckily, you’ve got your free-spirited roommate and your museum job to keep your mind busy. That is, until your night takes a turn for the worst.

Previous Chapters: 1

Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader

Content Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, attempted sexual assault, mention of an under-fed (not by choice) character

Length: 4,324 words

Author's Note: Switched up the tense for this chapter. I find it flows better and I love the idea of this being a dynamic creation experience. I'd love to hear any feedback in the notes, replies, or asks!

Heed the warnings!

It’s almost fully light out when you step onto the landing of the fourth floor apartment you rent in Hell’s Kitchen. You know that Maggie, your roommate, will still be dead to the world but you still grip your keys tight to your palm to keep from making unnecessary noise.

As the door opens and your nose fills with the warmth of the pot roast you started before leaving for work last night. God, do you love working at the diner but you hate the food. There’s just something about city food nowadays, it doesn’t stick to you like a good meal should.

You pull the keys out and quietly maneuver the door shut. As you start toward the kitchen, a young man slinks out of Maggie’s room, tiptoeing with his shoes in his hand and his hat pressed to his chest. He’s so focused on making a soundless exit that he doesn’t notice you behind him.

“Hello there.”

He freezes and spins his head around to look at you over his shoulder. He makes a shocked face so silly it’d make a Marx Brother proud. The surprise doesn’t stop him from keeping mouse-quiet as a he closes Maggie’s door all the way.

“That’s not very nice, you know, sneaking out on a girl like that. She might get the wrong impression.”

He throws on a big, sugary smile and does a mock bow.

“It’s nothing like that, ma’am,” he says with an accent so phony he’s got to be an actor like Maggie. “Maggie and I were up late rehearsing, that’s all, ma’am. I respect your daughter as a colleague, ma’am. I swear, nothing unsavory happened here.”

Your face sets into a frown, suddenly very aware of how hateable his pinched little face is.

You decide you can’t stand him and your feet hurt too much to waste more time talking to him. You spin on your heels toward the kitchen and call back to him over your shoulder.

“You know she’s not my daughter and you don’t live here. Good morning.”

Truth be told, this kitchen is your favorite place in the world. You adore the entire apartment (more so when you lived in it on your own), but the kitchen is a sanctuary. It’s open and bright with a nice big window over the sink. The trim is a pastel green and the walls are covered in a fruit themed wallpaper you hand-painted.

It’s heaven.

With a tired groan, you set your gloves and purse on the counter.

It was a long night of overthinking about what Francis said to you before he slipped out into the night.

I don’t come here for the food.

Just the thought makes you flush again but you temper it. Sure, he’s gorgeous and funny and kind but…there’s also something mysterious about him.

You never quite got the story about his wife but you know he doesn’t wear a ring. Then again, it wouldn’t be unheard of for a married man to forgo it to get what he wanted, would it?

With a shake of your head, you chastise yourself. He’s not like that, right?

You hop into the chair beside the counter and pull the top off of the slower cooker. The scene of the post roast you’ve been daydreaming about all day permeates your senses as you lean in close and take a deep, indulgent breath. Thank god Maggie’s not around to tease you about the pleased sound that comes out of your mouth as the thick cloud of steam fills up your nostrils.

“That smells delicious, ma’am.”

Your head whips around and there he is again, Maggie’s annoying blond paramour, leaning against the doorframe.

“I’m sure as an actor you’re extremely unfamiliar with the concept of rejection, but that ‘good morning’ meant ‘get lost.’”

He holds up his hands but laughs. When he speaks, his accent is less put-on.

“I understand. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry if I offended you with my assumption. And also that Maggie is a lovely girl but she’s under no illusions about our relationship.”

You shrug. “Alright, sure. Just stop calling me ma’am.”

He nods as you turn back to the cooker to make a plate. When you turn back toward the table, he’s still there, picking at the skin around his nails and shuffling about with uncertainty.

You allow yourself a moment to really take him in. He’s handsome and well-dressed, but skinny. It was easy to miss at first glance, but his skin has a surprising dullness to it and his suit doesn’t quite fit him. But the tell is the way his gaze is fixed on the slow cooker like a wolf’s eyes on a lone, fat lamb.

A true starving artist.

“What’s your name?”

“James, ma’—miss. I’m James Downing, miss.”

“Pleased to meet you, James Downing, now sit.”

He shakes his head eagerly as he all but runs to the kitchen table. “Yes, ma’am!”

You sigh and make him a plate anyway.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

You awaken hours later to the noise of the city and the smell of coffee drifting under your door. The sun bathing your room in warm light tells you it’s just after 1 o’clock in the afternoon.

You stretch out your limbs with a drawn-out grunt and bounce out of bed.

Today’s your day off from the diner but it’s the start of the week for your favorite job. A few months back when you’d been looking to make extra cash to visit your sister, a friend connected you with a job. She knew you painted and loved history and art. The job was for an assistant to the head restorer at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

The restorer is a sweet man in his sixties with a horrible comb over and case of the sweats so bad his shirts constantly appear visibly wet. He’s also unfathomably kind of sees within you what others have always overlooked.

You’ve never considered yourself much of an artist, more of a hobbyist. But that man, with all of his experience and worldliness, seeing in you something worth growing gives you just about all the confidence in the world.

You work three days a week, Thursday through Saturday, alongside him. The job was supposed to be to help with filing, organizing tools, and cleaning up when needed. But he’d been so thrilled to have a painter apply that you hardly ever did any of those things. The office has ended up looking like a disaster more often than not but neither of you care. The work is the reward.

Well, the work is certainly a reward, but the job pays well. Well enough that you don’t really need a roommate anymore. But the city seems big and lonelier lately. Besides, Maggie’s a sweet, overly friendly girl and who knows what trouble she’d get into if you kicked her out.

Speaking of Maggie, her life as an actress is…flexible. She’s sure to make coffee whenever she knows you need to be up for the museum.

When you leave your room, Maggie’s at the table reading the paper. Her eyes are glued to the paper, shifting quickly as she reads a story headlined, “Masked vigilante strikes again! Four mobsters slain.” She absentmindedly jabs a piece of toast at her face, just missing her mouth.

“Well, well, well, Margaret. Late night, you see.”

Maggie flushes and hides her face behind the paper for a moment.

She has a way of inspiring the big sister urges in you, what with her button nose and freckled face framed by a curly mess of red hair.

“Honey, I’m so embarrassed. I heard you two talking in the hall, you know. I was just too ashamed to come out.”

She looks at you over the table and you lift the coffee pot as a question. She nods her head and you pour two mugs.

“Nothing to be ashamed of. I almost socked that James of yours, though, until I realized he was just a silly little puppy.”

Maggie laughs airily. “That’s one way of putting it.”

You slide into the seat across the table from her. “It’s nothing, really. I just fed him and sent him on his way. Think nothing of it.”

Maggie nods to you and goes back to reading her paper. You look at her, uncertain for a few moments.

“I’d like to ask you a question. I asked that boy of yours, too. But you think it’s the sort of thing that requires a woman’s intuition.”

“He is decidedly not my boy,” she giggles while setting the paper down. “But yes, please, go on.”

You fidget in your seat for a moment.

“Well, you know that guy I’ve mentioned from the diner? Francis?”

Maggie grins. “I know.”

“Well, last night he was later than usual and Tom wouldn’t hold open the kitchen. So, when Francis got there, I apologized so much and he eventually told me that– Well, I think he said that maybe I’m the reason he goes to the diner away.”

Maggie coos and claps her hands, bouncing excitedly in her chair. “Ooh, yes! Yes. I never told you but I stopped by once to get a look at him, you know, after you told me. And I swear, he’s just about the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on. So, then what happened?”

“That’s just it,” you frown. “He said that and then he just left. How do I know he was serious? Maybe it was just a joke. I mean, he does jest somethings. Why else say something like that and then leave?”

“Honey,” Maggie says, leaning into me. “This is the game. Men and women have been doing this for centuries. Ever hear of cat and mouse? Well, he’s seeing if you wanna play.”

You stare blankly at her.

“What?”

“Sure,” Maggie says. “Tell me exactly what happened and don’t leave anything out.”

You take last night from the top, telling her how upset you were with your sister, how Francis had shown up in a state, and how after everything, he’s said that he doesn’t visit the dinner for the food.

Maggie bites her lip and grins. “My goodness. He’s good.”

“So, what do you do?”

Maggie tilts her head and fiddles with the ends of her hair.

“You don’t date much, huh?”

“Maybe not,” you bristle. “There was never much time for it growing up, taking care of everyone. Now it’s…difficult. People assume things and it seems like every guy I meet wants something from me.”

“Everybody wants to be wanted,” Maggie grins as her gaze softens into the distance. Her voice has that dreamy quality it sometimes takes on when you two talk love and romance.

“Sure,” you say before downing the rest of your coffee in a gulp. “But it’d be nice to be seen.”

She looks back at you and the grin gets bigger, “Francis sees you. He likes you. Maybe he just wants to know you see him, too.”

“Yeah,” you rub at a scuff on the floor with your socked toe. “Maybe. I’m going to get ready for work, okay? You wanna walk through the park with me?”

Maggie lets out a wistful sigh, her eyes soft and full of dreams again. “I’d love to. The park is so lovely this time of year.”

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

Balmy air caresses your bare skin as Maggie and you take your time walking through the park. You each have an Italian ice cup in your hands as you wander through the paths. An outsider might think you had no destination in mind.

“Have you ever been in love?” Maggie asks.

“Depends on who you ask. I say no but there was a boy back home I was supposed to be married to. Our families had it all planned out from the time we were small, but my heart wasn’t in it. Everyone kept saying we were meant to be, they’d call me by his last name. But I never felt it.”

“He like you?”

“Oh yeah,” you scoff. “A little too much if you ask me.”

Maggie nods. “He try to get fresh with you?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” you say with a shrug. “The real problem was that when I did actually meet someone, he’d scare them off. It kept on like that until I moved to the city.”

“At least you had a suitor,” Maggie says quietly. “Even if you didn’t want him, it’s more than I’ve ever had.”

“Margaret, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m completely sure that’s not true,” you laugh.

She whines your name and stomps off to dramatically drape herself across an empty bench.

“Oh, those aren’t suitors they’re boys to play with like a cat playing with the fat rat it killed. I mean I’ve never had a real prospect of love or marriage or any of it. I just fill my time with those boys because they’re everywhere.”

She tosses her empty cup toward the trash and misses. “Throw a rock and hit one, they’re nothing special.”

Maggie stands abruptly, gliding in to the center of the path. She raises her arms above her head and drawls loudly, “I want a man, not a boy. Lord, I desire a man who can sweep me off my feet, show me the world, and save me from the absolute horror of dating one more New York City boy!”

The female half of an elderly couple walking past glares daggers at Maggie. She pulls her grayed, hunchbacked husband in tighter while eyeing Maggie.

“Oh sure, honey! He’s a real catch, keep him close now!” Maggie shouts as the woman drags her husband down the path.

“Margaret!” you laugh as you run over to her. She locks her arm in mine and kisses you on the cheek.

“Yes dear?” she grins.

You two run off in the direction of the museum with your wild laughter lingering briefly in the spaces you leave behind.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

When Maggie walks you to the door, you realize you’re almost 10 minutes late. You sprint up the stairs and around back, shouting “hi there!” and “hello!” to the museum employees you see along the way.

“So sorry, Mister Cranston!” you shout as you burst through the door. You hang your purse and jacket on the door as you look around for Mister Cranston.

His desk is a mess per usual but empty. You glance around the room for his mess of white-gray hair.

You find a tuft of it moving under a table in the far corner of the room. There’s a gentle sound of shuffling papers as he slowly sifts through something.

“Mister Cranston?”

He pops a hand up over the table, “Over here, dearie!”

You walk around the table to find Mister Cranston sitting with at least a dozen piles of paper, shuffling them between piles and muttering to himself. The hand he raised to you lowers to scratch his head.

“I just don’t get it.”

“Do you need help?”

He gives you a warm, friendly smile. “No, sweetheart. I just wanted to find something so I looked for it in the papers and now I’m just amazed. You know these are the artist’s actual letters? He wrote his sister about this very work we’re restoring. He talked about everything: his technique, his motivations, the muse, his hopes for the piece, regrets about it.”

Mister Cranston sighs and lowers the piece of paper in his hand back into the pile.

“It’s a treasure trove,” he frowns. “Beautiful stuff.”

“Why is that sad, sir?”

“Because. I don’t know that I can do this one. In all of my years I’ve never come across such intricate work. To try and replicate it is…” he sighs again and slowly raises from his seated position.

He shakes his head as he walks away.

“I don’t think I have it in me, dearie.”

“Nonsense. Even if you’ve never done it, everything you’ve done ‘til now has been for this.”

He smiles sadly.

“Besides,” you grin. “You’ve got me. I’m no Rembrandt but I can imitate with the best of them.”

“That you can,” he pats you on the shoulder before making his way to his work station. “Ah, the optimism of youth.”

You scoff. “I don’t know about youth but I am optimistic.”

You pull up your stool next to his table. “So. What are we doing today?”

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

Every Thursday, Mister Cranston begins to pack up his tools at 8:15pm precisely. He relishes the extra time working alongside you when you don’t have the diner to rush off to.

When you’d been referred for the assistant role, half the appeal was that you could do what you loved into the night sometimes. Most people still hire women for day shift office work, assuming they must have children and husbands to hurry home to.

But Mister Cranston has never treated you any differently than anyone else at the museum. Well, aside from trying to set you up with his handsome son, Buck, about once a quarter. And today you were due.

“He’s a handsome devil but handy, that’s hard to come by! Attended university. And get this, he cooks! His ma wouldn’t stand for sending a boy out into the world so helpless he couldn’t cook himself a meal if need be. My mother on the other hand…” he trails off as he wipes at a bit of sweat on his receded hairline.

You nod politely, still engrossed in the painting in front of you. You’d spent ages stripping down the old, discolored painting and now was the truly fun part, getting to rebuild it back to its former glory. It almost felt like you were a real artist.

“I’ve told you before, sir, I enjoy Buck, he’s lovely,” you shrug. “But he’s looking for a wife and I’m not looking to be one.”

“Yeah, well. Can’t blame me for asking.”

He finishes cleaning the last of his tools and tosses them into the supply trunk. He grunts with the effort of closing the heavy old container before turning back to me.

“You almost ready, dear?”

“Hm?” you fight to tear your attention from the section on front of you. “Oh no, don’t worry about me, I’ll just finish this bit up and head on home.”

Mister Cranston frowns.

He says your name with a note of concern, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. I know occasionally you’ll stay behind. But the city these days,” he shakes his head woefully. “I don’t like it.”

He moves over to your station and tries to pull the brush out of your hands. “Come along now.”

You giggle and retake control of your hand on the painting, “Mister Cranston, I swear, I’ll be just fine. Hell’s Kitchen is nowhere from where, it’s just a walk through the park and right down–”

“Oh honey, no,” he waves a hand to get your attention. “Please not through the park. At least stick to the streets. Promise me.”

You smile at him, “I promise. Down 5th, across to 45th, no park.”

He sighs and nods, “You’re a strong willed one.”

“S’what mama always said.”

“Right, right,” he walks away mumbling to himself.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

You lean back in your chair with a satisfied sigh. The painting is turning out better than you expected.

You move around the space, looking at it from different angles.

“Looks damn good,” you smile to yourself.

It’s only in the lull of satisfaction that you realize how much quieter it is. You check your watch, 11:09pm.

“Oh god, Mister C. would kill me!”

You make quick work of your cleanup and put things in their proper place before grabbing your coat and running out the door.

The night security guards know you by now and probably haven’t thought anything as they made their rounds.

Your footsteps echo throughout the silent space.

“Night, Gordon!” you yell out as you hurry for the employee exit.

In the distance, you hear Gordon yelling a good night to you.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

The city is never silent but it’s quieter as you rush down the streets. Your strides are long and quick as you make your way home. You take 5th and avoid the park as promised, already feeling guilty enough about lying to Mister Cranston about how late you’d stay.

His worry lives through you as you move, unbothered, through the streets of the city.

You finally relax a bit when you make it to 45th.

A block away from the apartment, you come across a construction site. The ground is dug up and water seems to flow freely down the street. Near the mess is a short man sitting in front of a “No Entry” sign and reading a book under the light of his hand lantern. He looks up as you approach.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

“Sorry, detour,” he points at the sign, then at the street that leads away from your apartment.

He goes back to his book.

It’s no big deal, having to go around the back and come in through the alley. You did it plenty that month when money was tight and you were avoiding your landlord like the plague. It’s a well-used shortcut during the day.

But as you stand at the mouth of the alleyway, it’s eerie and deserted. It feels different at night.

You stand there staring into a dark space only partially illuminated by two dim torch lamps over the service entry of a store.

You hesitate and start to turn back but there’s no other way in without going a block and a half around. After the trek home, you don’t think your feet could stand it.

With a deep breath, you enter the alleyway moving at breakneck pace.

The sound of your rapid footsteps echoing in the space is a little unsettling but it’s fine. You keep your eyes focused on the light at the end, rapidly expanding in your vision.

You’ve just passed the dumpster less than halfway through the alley when you hear a loud thud against the metal. With a start, you turn around to find a man in dark clothes slinking out of the shadows.

He smiles and a gold tooth catches a faint gleam of light from the lamp. The knife in his hand, shines, too.

“You don’t want any trouble,” he says, stalking toward you. “Just be a good girl and toss me that bag of yours.”

Your brain screams at you to just do what he says but you’re frozen in place, shaking too hard to think or comply with his request. When you open your mouth, a wordless stutter comes out.

As you struggle to form your words or move, another man steps out from the darkness. He’s further back and you can’t make out his form, but the sound of his gun cocking is unmistakable.

“Unless you ain’t got no money,” the second man says, slinking closer gold tooth. “Then…well, what if she ain’t got no money, mack?”

Gold tooth’s smile gets wider. “I don’t know, mack. S’pose we could compromise, bet she’s got something else worth our while.”

His words jolt you, sinking in quickly. You take off toward the end of the alley, screaming your head off.

“Help!” you shout into the quiet night over and over again.

The laughter of the men chasing you echoes through the alley.

You’re almost to the end of the alley when you hear and feel the warm air of a bullet narrowly missing you.

The shock of it seizes your body, you trip and fall across the threshold of the alley, your ribs and chin smashing into the damp concrete.

“Ah,” you groan. You wipe a hand across your chin. When you flip it over, it’s streaked with thin lines of blood. As you stare at your streaked palm, your vision blurs and the lines double.

You’ve almost forgotten where you are when a hand wraps around one of your ankles and yanks you backward into the alley. His other hand starts to pull at your tights. Remembering your surroundings, you scream so hard you can feel a twinge of blood gurgling with the spit in your throat.

Behind you, you hear one of the men shout. As the hand on your leg disappears, a gunshot is fired. You the man who’d grabbed you stand up and then the sound of blows landing. There’s the sharp sound of a blade hitting the ground and the meaty sound of fist pummeling face.

The man collapses back, falling partially on your body with a deflated grunt.

You let out a whimpering cry of pain as you begin to weep. The sobs rack your body as you become aware of the breeze hitting where your tights were slightly ripped. Your arms and face burn where they were scrapped across the ground.

You hear a gruff grunt above you as the man’s weight shifts off of you.

A gentle hand rests on your back. You squeeze your eyes closed and the cries come harder as you weakly kick your legs and hands back.

“Sweetheart, sweetheart, s’alright,” a soft voice calls out as you continue kicking and hitting the man behind you.

Then man lies down on his stomach and gets his face to your eye level. He gently holds your arms in place and calls your name.

“S’alright. You’re safe.”

As the crying subsides, you recognize the voice. You open your eyes to see Francis. He looks worried as he scans over your injuries. You look him over, too. His knuckles are red. He's as scraped up as when you saw him at the diner but he’s otherwise intact.

“You're safe sweetheart.”

You believe him and it makes you cry harder.

He rests a hand on your cheek.

“S’alright now, I promise.”

He cradles your head to his chest.

—–

Oof, I know, poor thing went through it. Thank goodness Francis was there...but why was Francis there 🤔

Let me know how you feel about this chapter in the replies! Reblogs + asks welcome, too. 

If you’re experienced as a beta or editor, feel free to drop me an ask if you’d be interested in helping me edit future chapters.

[black-quadrant]

Happy Holidays @nugatories !!

I hope you enjoy my humble offering of joshneku fighting and flirting for @twewysecretsanta

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43818006

It didn’t occur to Neku back then that Joshua’s maneuvers could be anything but attempts to get under his skin. His incessant teasing, needling, and undermining meant to rile him up. Why? Because he could? Because he’s a prick? Neku didn’t question it; arguably he had bigger things to worry about than why his partner was such a sadist.

Neku made no attempt to downplay the fact he’s not a fan of Joshua’s, but Joshua gave him no reason to be from literally Day One.

But more than all of his little ploys to goad him, what really rubbed Neku the wrong way from the start was how Joshua was always watching him. It felt like, even with his eyes closed, he still saw Joshua.

None of it made sense until Joshua dropped the bomb and revealed the purpose behind the Game – Neku’s purpose.

Neku spent a long time replaying his experience, pouring over three weeks of footage, like he’s rewatching a series with the new perspective of knowing how it ends.

Yes, he concluded, Joshua was flexing his advantage to try to color Neku’s vision of the world, to further isolate him from it and thus push his own agenda, anticipating that Neku would make the same moves as him.

It’s clear then and now that Joshua was also poking and prodding at him for kicks. He mulled over the many different come-ons he batted away as just another way of toying with him. But was there some truth to it? Has Joshua been… flirting with him?

That whole time?

If he weren’t now so close to Joshua three years later, the realization would have infuriated him.

Joshua still teases him, albeit without the flexing. His comments are subtle and could easily be dismissed as playful banter, but there’s an extra layer of physical element that blurs the line between platonic and flirtation. Playground antics Neku had dismissed as simply Joshua – bold, presumptuous, overweening, all qualities any normal being should be ashamed of, but Joshua wore these unsavory traits like he wore Dragon Couture. Flawlessly.

Everything’s starting to add up at an alarming rate. Most important of the revelations is the discovery that Neku’s not all that unattracted to Joshua.

Well, if Joshua wanted to engage in playground antics, Neku would give him playground antics.

And maybe Joshua’s never had a taste of his own medicine. Only way one to test this theory.

The first experiment is a small one. Joshua’s texted a request to meet him at the fabled Phone Booth of Love, and he’s got the perfect opportunity to sneak up on Joshua while his back’s turned. He may be omniscient (so he says), but Neku’s learned that Joshua’s awareness of his surroundings lapses when he’s immersed in his phone. That makes it easy for him to sidle up and blow a puff of air in his ear. Joshua immediately whirls around with an affronted gasp to meet Neku’s twinkling gaze. Finally, a chance to turn the tables -- for him to be smug.

“You’re rusty, Composer.”

“And you’re close enough to steal my breath away.”

Neku figured he’d have some snarky retort, but this one works in his favor. He plants a hand against the glass and leans in, just a little bit but it’s closer than he’s known to get to Joshua’s personal space. To anyone but Neku, Joshua looked unfazed, but that single blink betrays a hint of surprise.

“Do you actually need to breathe?”

Joshua’s eyes sharpen, and his head slowly tilts, sizing him up.

“You know I’m not just going to tell you, but I can show you… if you come closer…”

And just when it looks like Neku’s about to oblige Joshua’s coquettish invitation, he thrusts out a hand to assault Joshua’s flanks, and the other hand braced on the booth springs into action to join in, ruthlessly tickling Joshua’s sides. And Joshua, so thoroughly caught off-guard by the outlandish move, squeals and squirms, trying in vain to push Neku away. His former proxy’s got some hidden strength, however, which he’s using to pin the Composer between his body and the booth. It’s not long until Joshua’s laughter devolves into choking and wheezing, and only then does Neku let up and push back.

“I’d say that’s a resounding yes.”

He’s living for how flustered Joshua looks, all disheveled and pink in the cheeks.

“What?” Feigned innocence. “Was that not what you were suggesting?”

Before Joshua could respond any which way, Neku’s backed up out of his reach, and although Joshua did not retaliate, his set jaw and level stare told Neku, without words: challenge accepted.

From then on, the boundaries between fighting and flirting begin to blur. It’s all-out war. Joshua’s doubled down on his vamping, with his bedroom eyes (which almost cave Neku, to be fair), open buttons and lingering touches. But it’s Neku who’s teasing him, letting their mutual attraction bring them within inches of kissing before playfully bullying him, sometimes literally wrestling him into submission. Tension’s been a natural part of their dynamic, but now it’s straining from something much different. The unrelenting physical contact is no help whatsoever, even though they’re both thoroughly reveling in it. Somewhere along the way Neku’s experiment’s morphed into a game; it’s now a battle of wills.

The holiday season rolled in, and inevitably they find themselves together at a homey Christmas party among their friends. Alcohol’s pouring, but Neku’s abstaining. He needs to be alert in case his favorite rival decides to pull a fast one on him. If he’s honest with himself, he hopes he will.

Joshua lies in wait until everyone’s split off, as tends to be the natural progression of soirees. Joshua suspected Neku would remain solo, and just his luck, once groups begin to form, their eyes lock across the room. He takes a few steps back to stand just shy of being completely obscured by the tree, and crooks a finger in beckoning. Neku meanders over, glancing about to make sure no one’s paying attention, before circling around the tree.

Neku can’t help but take a moment to appreciate how the multicolored lighting brings glitter to Joshua’s eyes, and tints his skin with a warm glow. But it’s that brief moment of weakness that leaves him open to attack.

“What’s up, Josh–”

He never finishes the question, for he’s been interrupted by a mistletoe to the face and his mouth claimed by Joshua’s. A rush of endorphins storms his brain, and just like that, his defenses collapse. But if he’s to lose, he’ll go down fighting; unsurprisingly, their kiss is as violently passionate as the buildup. Neku, wresting the upper hand, slams him against the nearest wall (like he wanted to that day at the booth), which just so happens to be within close proximity of the tree. Joshua’s flailing sends it toppling over magnificently, to the tune of uproarious applause and whoops and hollers of finally.

"I echo their sentiments," Joshua all but purrs. "What took you so long?" And Neku contends with his sass by putting him in a very festive kimura submission hold and nibbles Joshua's arm while he screeches hilariously.

[kariachi]

Quick ficlet, just some on Kevin and the galactic roadtrip.

~~

There’s a stark difference between Kevin on Earth and Kevin out in the greater galaxy. The team don’t really notice until their trip around the galaxy is well under way. Their prior trips off of Earth have been relatively quick, or all business, and so getting to see him in the role of galactic traveler has never really been an option before. Somehow they hadn’t expected it, despite knowing of the years he spent hopping from planet to planet, station to station, with Argit before their return to Earth.

There’s something, softer about him as they travel. Like he’s left some of his sharp edges behind on Earth. He still looks over his shoulder, ever wary of the risk his powers will attract unsavory attention yet again, but not so badly as it was back home. As if he’d come down from a mountain peak and found more oxygen in the air. It strikes Gwendolyn, after several days of noticing and not understanding, that growing up with all that he was taboo or hated or both, living there still, had probably left more of a mark than previously assumed.

He weaves through crowds rather than plowing his own path. Takes front in speaking to the people they come across rather than letting the Tennysons take charge. They begin to see more easily how he and Argit got on so long, the intimidating and powerful brawler slipping aside in favor of the rogueish and personable con. He wears his skirts in public with as much ease as he wears his pants back home. He breathes easy, maneuvers socially and physically like he was born doing it, smiles more.

Gods above does he smile more, and wider.

It’s almost enough to make a group not want to go home again.

[maykrisms]

”You like fighting, do you not?”

The inherent homoeroticism of fighting is appealing. Two bodies pressed together, wrestling for dominance, and neither wanting to yield. The adrenaline rush that comes from a successful maneuver - equally balanced out with a healthy dosage of fear for what happens when you lose.

It's intense - it makes him feel truly alive. He could be profusely bleeding, or leaking coolant and Argent, but the overwhelming urge to win overpowers his sensibilities.

The fact that it could go either way is enticing. That he could be overpowered and forced into an unsavory position. But in turn, he could do the same. He lives for the moments where he stands over the other in assured victory, knowing they can't do a thing about it.

He lives for it.

❮ ...You could say that, yes. ❯