#But also I fear for all of these tired out employees

[orca-in-disguise]

Aw man I think something bad might happen to them

[jarofstyles]

Strawberry Sunrise

Helloooo. Welcome to part one of a short series I’m doing. I’ve been dying to do a sporty/ personal trainer sort of thing so I’ve picked this back up after abandoning it for a bit! Please leave feedback if this is something you’d like to see more of on here!

Check out our Patreon for early access to parts 2-3 and 180+ exclusive writings

Warnings- mention of stalking, consent, gym culture, men being creeps, smitten H, anxiety

WC- 3.8k

Harry had always enjoyed the gym.

The burn in his muscles was his release of choice, choosing to express his innermost emotions with working up a sweat as he ran miles on the treadmill, muscles straining as he lifted and knuckles sore as he worked the bag. He’d spend hours working out purely for enjoyment and release in his time off, not only for the burn but from the community surrounding it. That being said, it made a lot of sense that when he got tired early on in the corporate world, he decided to become a personal trainer. A really successful one at that- thankfully, considering his father had been very skeptical at the profession change.

Working at a higher end gym, the facilities always remained spotless. There was a sauna and steam room, an in-ground heated pool and jacuzzi room, lush locker rooms with wooden locker cubbies and provided locks and fluffy white towels, and even held a boxing ring on the bottom floor which he loved to spar in in his free time. It was in a refashioned warehouse, lux looking in a rustic way.

He built his career and clientele over the span of a few years and had gotten into the groove of it fairly quickly. Working with positive reinforcement and meditative breathing before and after each session, people found his presence calming and many trusted him to help get them to their potential- which he proudly did. His routine varied but it always ended the day with a smoothie from the smoothie bar run inside the lobby. Choco PB, Mango Delight, or a Strawberry Sunrise with extra protein were his go tos.

One of his new favorite parts about his job, though, was the new receptionist at the front desk. Y/N.

A complete and utter sweetheart who, for a lack of better words, was a breath of fresh air in the usually gruff, testosterone filled setting. He loved watching her chat, even more watching her politely reject the many customers who tried to get her number. She didn’t seem to have a clue just how alluring she was. Her beaming smile and saccharine little giggle that made his toes curl, he was crushing on her big time. If he wasn’t afraid to risk her feeling comfortable at the work environment by potentially rejecting him, he’d have asked her out already but it was only 4 months in and she was a hit with everyone. He didn’t want to be the reason she left. Most of the other trainers were in relationships or married so she had been safe and had a good relationship with them all as colleagues, though Harry liked to flirt with her lightheartedly. He could tell she got her a little flustered and the arrogant son of a bit in him fucking loved it.

But what he didn’t love, though, was when she hesitantly found him with teary eyes after locking the front door with shaky hands as closing time finished and it was just employees of the gym. Her face was pale, spooked and Harry was not a fan of. Fear didn’t suit her.

“Harry?” Her shaky voice whispered. “I don’t mean to bother you at all, but if- could you wait for me before you leave? There’s… there’s that one guy, one of Liam’s clients? He kept asking me out and he got mad that I really said no and he’s been waiting outside at closing time and I’m just-‘I’m scared and….”’a quiver of her lip made his chest ache while also burning in rage.

Something he hated more than anything was someone who couldn’t take no for an answer, more specifically men who couldn’t let their bruised ego be healed in private, lick their wounds and accept that they’d not gotten what they wanted. Instead they harassed the other person as if the fucking answer would change. But to do it to Y/N? He felt enraged.

“He did what?” His mouth parted in surprise, brows pulling together as his shoulders squared up. Sure enough he could see a car parked right outside the door with the lights off, but someone visibly inside. Y/N parked close to the building and he must have known that. “Fuck, Sweets. M’sorry.” He groaned. “Absolutely not acceptable. M’gonna make sure Liam knows and that he’s dropped as a member here but of course I’ll walk you out. Are you almost done?” His hand reached for her shoulder to give an appreciative squeeze, bare skin meeting his palm. She wore a tank top with the gym’s logo and yoga pants, her name tag taken off already.

“Yeah- I just have to shut down the computers and sweep the front. Is that okay?” Her teeth chewed nervously on her bottom lip. “I’m so sorry to keep you. I know you’ve had a long day and you have one tomorrow too, I just, I have a bad feeling and I’m scared. I wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t give me the creeps even before.”

Harry was vaguely familiar with the dude, mostly because he had snickered at Y/N’s polite attempt to tell him no to a date previously- but now, that wasn’t so funny. “Hey.” His thumb brushed over her skin. “Don’t apologize. I won’t hear it. Of course I’d do this for you, I care. I’d never let anyone be in danger, least of all you. You’re the best receptionist we’ve ever had and I’d be crushed if something happened to you. Everyone would.” Mostly him, though. His crush was real. However now wasn’t the time to deal with that.

“Thank you so much.” She sighed in relief, reaching up to squeeze his wrist. “I’ll only be a minute, okay? Just stand right there.”

And he did. He watched as she shut down the computers and grabbed the little broom to sweep up the little bits around the front desk, thanking Harry when he brought the trash can out from the front desk for her to pour the dust pan into. Her thanks was gracious, grabbing her keys and nervously following behind him as he made his way out first.

It seemed that the man hadn’t expected Harry to still be there, as he had parked further back in the lot. The look of surprise made Harry irritated as he directly went to the car, knocking on the window. The man hesitantly rolled it down a little bit, Harry’s arm braced on the hood as he leaned down to speak to him.

“Absolutely unacceptable.” He said straight. “She said no. Dunno what or how that translates to ‘wait for her after work to crowd and stalk her like a creep’, but let me spell it out for you.” His voice dropped lower. “You’re going to stay away from her. She isn’t available, not for you. You’re going to listen when women tell you no, and leave it fucking be. Know she’s a pretty thing but that doesn’t give you the right to follow her around.”

“What are you? Her boyfriend?” The man sneered, making Harry’s jaw clench. Was he dense? Truly?

“S’not your business who I am to her. All you need to know is that she isn’t on the market, stalking is unattractive and if you don’t leave her the fuck alone, I swear to you that there will be consequences. I’d suggest finding another gym, mate.” He patted the top of his car before pulling back, finding Y/N standing by the glass doors, wringing her hands. The look of relief on her face as Harry approached and the guy’s car peeled out of the lot made his anger worth every bit.

“Told ‘em off.” Adjusting the bag on his shoulder, he walked with her to her car and made sure she got her bag in. “Hey- let me follow you home, yeah? I’ll give you my number and you can text me if he bugs you again but I’d feel better knowing you got in safe and he isn’t out there waiting for you somewhere else.” He wouldn’t put it past an idiot like that.

“Normally I’d try to tell you no, but I can’t tell you how much that would mean to me.” Her body sagged in relief as she took him by surprise, taking him in for a hug. “Thank you so much. I was so scared he’d try to take me or something, I watch too much Criminal Minds or something but.” She shrugged, pulling back far too soon. It had taken him by surprise and he hadn’t had nearly enough time to appreciate her sweet smelling, warm body against his own.

“Anytime, Y/N. Seriously. Your safety is important to me.” More than she’s known. “Let’s get going, yeah? Know you had an emotional day.”

—-

Harry had driven her home, smiling and beeping once she had gotten inside her apartment building but waiting to drive off before he had gotten her little text of ‘ inside!!! :-)’

He spent the rest of the night trying to work away his anger, cooking a quick meal before heading off to bed. Y/N was too good for shit like that. He’d shot a text to Liam letting him know he told his client to fuck off and he’d help find another but was assured that it was a good loss anyways, which only helped ease him. The girl wouldn’t have to deal with it again.

He just hoped she would be okay.

—-

The next morning he was greeted by her smiling face, melting off the apprehension he had felt all morning. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail with two loose tendrils around her face, looking as cute as ever as she waved at him.

“Hi, Harry!” She chirped. “I’ve got a smoothie with your name on it when you’re ready for it later. Thank you again for helping me last night.” His membership card was quickly scanned and handed back. Her smile was infectious, making his own rise on the corner of his lips.

“Yeah? I’m glad to have helped. I’m here for anything y’need, Sweets.” If only she knew how far that could go for her. Maybe it was better she didn’t. He was really into her but he was hyper aware of how it could come off now, so he would proceed with caution. “I’ll hold you to the smoothie when m’on my lunch.”

For the first time in quite a while, Harry had a hard time concentrating on his sessions. Of course he poured himself into it as much as he could, but he couldn’t stop thinking about last night. How shaken up Y/N had been and how she had been so appreciative. He couldn’t help it, because he’d already had a crush on her and the fact that she trusted him enough to come to him for help made him really happy. He was also still mad that the man had crossed such big boundary and genuinely scared the hell out of probably the sweetest girl anyone’s met.

Being in his own head also explained why said girl scared the shit out of him, making him jump as he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. Jumping from the stool, he turned to a wide eyed Y/N and tore the earbuds out of his ears with a very, very embarrassing yelp. “Shit! Y/N, you scared me.”

As if it wasn’t obvious.

“I’m so sorry!” She peeped, hand over her mouth. “I said your name and I didn’t see you had in your earbuds. I’m so sorry.” Her babbling was very cute, but he didn’t want her to feel bad.

“It’s okay- just made me jump.” He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Shit, it’s my fault for sitting here with them on at work. You did nothing wrong.” His palm squeezed, making her shoulders relax just a bit. Thank god. There was no effort to remove it as he continued on, and no effort to step away from him. “Y’said something about a smoothie, yeah?”

His grin was probably a bit too big in regards to a smoothie but he hoped like hell that she would join him at the little tables they had set up. They were in the reception area, a bit public for his taste but considering what had happened last night he figured that was a better option than the break room. It was a delicate thing and he needed to go about it carefully. He really, really didn’t want to muck it up because his dick got ahead of his brain.

Although, she did look spectacular today, if he could say that.

“Yes! I was going to grab one too. What kind would you like?” One of the duties of the front desk people was to man the smoothie bar when needed. It wasn’t super demanding and the recipes were written out in a binder-

Harry would know because he’s had to do it before too- but she seemed to enjoy making them the times she’s done his. “I’m going for the Strawberry Sunrise and some energy boost.” Her hand squeezed his wrist before it was removed and she glided behind the bar, ponytail swaying as she did so.

“S’a good choice. Simple and effective.” He nodded in approval. “Think M’gonna go for… the chocolate peanut butter, if that’s alright?” His fingers drummed on the surface of the counter, slightly nervous habits showing when she was around. It was difficult to think. Even if he was this charming, charismatic, outgoing guy- he still got a bit flustered when talking to a pretty girl who was suspiciously angelic in looks and in appearance.

“Of course it’s okay.” Her laugh echoed in his ears. “I told you, it’s my way of saying thank you. Now sit and look pretty while I finish these.”

Harry was glad her back was turned because his face was most definitely flushed. Did she call him pretty? It seemed so. The man definitely didn’t go to the gym looking like a slob, but he had much better days outside of it. He liked to play around in fashion and the gym left little to experiment with unless he was okay with a sweat stain or ruining it. That’s why he wore cuter bandanas around his neck, or his stack of fabric bracelets that were meant to fall off. They were made of string and easily replaceable but they added color to his otherwise bland outfits he wore to keep from ruining his good outfits.

Apparently the last thing she had said was enough to keep him on his head until she finished, the large orange and white striped cup placed in front of him. “They’ve got to get rid of the styrofoam cups and do paper.”

Y/N sighed, looking at her own with a little frown. “I’ve suggested it but manager said we got to go through these before he’s gonna reorder. It’s only a few cents cheaper too, I was snooping on the order form.” She grumbled, making Harry smile. Y/N was known for her environmentalist tendencies and it only added to why he liked her. “Or, do like… have a bottle washing station and let us sell reusable cups with the gym logo and people can use those! Anything but these.” Leaning in closer to him, he caught her perfume as she let him in on a ‘secret’. “Plus, I fucking hate the sound of styrofoam. It makes my skin crawl. ASMR gone wrong.”

Harry swore he fell in love w little bit when she pulled back, laughing along with him as he nodded. She was fucking adorable and his hands itched to grab hold of that ponytail and keep her head still so he could kiss all over her face. Could you get cuteness aggression over another human?

“S’a great idea, actually.” He nodded, taking a sip with a hum. Y/N did the best smoothies. Shakes? He never was sure what to call them. “And you’re right. Styrofoam is awful for the environment and ears. I usually bring my water bottles every day but the amount of plastics we see here… S’a shame.”

“Exactly!” She slapped her hand on the counter. “It would only cost a little more to be more efficient. Do more water fountains so they don’t have to bring those plastic water bottles. Those are also on my hit list, when people crinkle those bottles…” her nose wrinkled in distaste, grabbing her cup and going around the counter. “Where did you want to sit, by the way?”

Harry’s heart grew three sizes, he thinks, when she was the one to initiate their time together. He’s been mulling it around in his mind, how to ask her to sit with him but apparently they were on the same page. “F’you want to sit out here we can, or we can go to the employee lounge. It’s your choice.”

“Do you mind if we go to the lounge? I had to talk to you about something, if you don’t mind.” It was then he could see her shifting nervously on her feet, cluing him in to something else. Was the guy still bothering her?

“Course we can. Lead the way.” He extended his hand, letting her lead as he tried to figure it out. Y/N was a somewhat nervous person by nature and he knew from watching her pick at her nails or bounce her leg, twirling her hair or rearranging pens often, but he didn’t like the idea of her nervous around him.

So when they sat down at one of the smaller tables in the empty lounge, he let his concerns be known. “Are you okay? You seem a little nervous.” He bumped his knee with hers, bringing the smoothie up to his mouth for a sip as he studied her face.

“Yeah! Yeah I just…” there was a pause, her nails dragging down the cup to make a pattern. “I couldn’t sleep very well last night. I felt really safe with you and I’m really grateful for your help- you’ve no idea. I was scared if end up in a ditch by the time anyone came in this morning but….��’her teeth worried her bottom lip. “I don’t want to have to rely on anyone else. You’re not always going to be here. And I know- I know the people here are very strong and bigger than me, most of them anyways- but I need a way to protect myself.” She took a big breath before the words rushed out. “Do you think you could help me with self defense? Even just a little bit, I can pay you or clean your house or something I just really….” Her frazzled expression broke his heart. “I don’t want to feel helpless again.”

He wanted to tell her that he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. That he would stay every night and walk her to his car, that he would take care of her but the truth remained that he couldn’t always guarantee that for her. Sometimes he had to leave early, sometimes he had to stay later than her and it was just not possible. What she asked was absolutely the right thing, but he hated that she felt helpless.

“Y/N.” He crooned. “Of course I will. It’s not even a question, I’d be more than willing to help you out.” She must really not know his crush on her if she couldn’t see how he was mentally tripping over himself at the idea of spending time with her. It would be a double win. She could help herself and he could spend time with her alone. “I want to say M’really fucking sorry that men are shit and that you even have to worry. If I’m here when you’re getting off of work, which I usually am, I’m more than happy to walk you to your car, but I understand.

I hate that you feel helpless. You’re a lot stronger than y’give yourself credit for.” His hand reached for the one laying on the table top, holding it a lot more confidently than he felt. She squeezed it back, though, so a win was a win! “We’ll have t’do it after hours, though, if that’s alright? Just stay a bit longer after work. My days are really full right now and I know you’re working most days here so it’ll have to be a weird schedule but you don’t need to pay me a cent. Let me do this for you for my own peace of mind, yeah?” His eyes searched her face, like he was trying to find an answer for a question he didn’t know. “Was worried out of my head last night about you.”’

Y/N seemed to visibly relax, a smile growing on her soft little lips and her entire energy moving to a warmer one. What he didn’t expect, though, was for her to throw herself into his lap for a big hug. Y/N had always been touchy, but he never thought he’d end up with a lap full of the prettiest girl he’d ever seen whispering her thanks as her face tucked into his neck.

God, he hoped he smelled decent.

His arm wrapped around her as he clumsily put his drink down in surprise, stroking her back as she squeezed him tight- and it was like a dream. Soft body against his own and engulfed in her scent? He was happy if she never moved from here. Unfortunately she did, peeling herself up and her beaming smile making him melt. “Thank you, thank you so fucking much. You can have anything you want in return. You don’t have to think of it kow but… I trust you the most here.” She admitted, clamoring back into her seat. “You’re the coolest, H. Thank you again. When can we start?”

Harry knew he was in trouble when he wanted to cancel the rest of his day and offer it to her. She’d sent him through a wind tunnel of wild thoughts and his body was still reeling from having her so close, but he had to try and hold it together.

“Why don’t we start tomorrow?” He offered. “But be prepared to work up a sweat.”

[intoxicated-chan]

ROUGH MIGUEL PHARA PLEASEEEEEEE ILL DO ANYTHING I’LL GIVE YOU MY KIDNEYS

I Want You to Destroy Me so I’ll Feel Better

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x GN!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Miguel doesn’t get carried away, but he does like to let loose from time-to-time, leaving you limping and bruised… Not like you’re complaining.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “In My Mouth” by Black Dresses. You can keep your kidneys! Thank you for the request, Anon!

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 575

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Gender neutral reader, established relationship, reader and Miguel are married, dub-con? bruises, hickies, biting, office sex, fangs, blood, penetration…

Want more Miguel content? Check out my MASTERLIST!

Miguel wasn’t a big fan letting loose. His biggest fear was doing something that he’d regret, and leave a permanent scar on your body.

But he wasn’t going to lie and say that his employees did frustrate him. There were many times where they were lazy and decided to leave the important numbers or graphs to the unpaid interns, knowing the consequences of leaving an intern to do the work.

Which was the cause of his endless nights in his office, and many meetings of him explaining why leaving interns to do most of the work would land his company in hot water. Luckily, it hasn’t happened but there was always that ONE employee who doesn’t listen.

He was angry, frustrated, hungry, and tired. That’s when his lovely spouse comes in, with a hot meal and dressed in something provocative. He has the perfect stress relief right in front of him.

Miguel had you turned over on his desk, you felt his chest press against your stomach, and his hands kept a firm grip on your wrists, keeping them pinned to the desk. With each thrust, you’re pushed into the desk.

Your eyes are rolled back and you let out airy moans, you don’t know how long Miguel has had you kept in this position. Your body was sweaty, covered in hand marks or hickies, maybe a bite or two.

Miguel pulls out and thrusts back in, he hits all the right spots. You feel ecstasy run throughout your body, setting all kinds of jolts. As he goes harder, if that’s possible, he releases one of your wrists and he grabs your hips, feeling his claws dig into your skin.

The pleasure is making you drool all over his desk, “Miguel!” You gasp and moan his name, you feel him go even deeper, making you moan even louder. Now, you are certain his employees can hear you.

You weren’t even sure if Miguel had locked his door, which means any one of them could walk in.

Miguel spits out many curses in his language, his grip on your hip gets tighter which means he’s also getting close. He leans down and bites your shoulder, you could feel his fangs penetrate. You could feel him drool, his breathing gets heavy.

He pushes you over the edge as you feel yourself cum, the jolt of pleasure flows throughout your body as you let out a final moan. Miguel doesn’t pull out, he slams inside one last time, releasing his cum inside your hole.

You hear him growl and pull from your shoulder, he pants heavily as he doesn’t move. He doesn’t pull out.

You try to lift yourself up but Miguel slams you back down at the desk, “And where do you think you’re going?” He smirks, you could see your blood from the corners of his mouth, his tongue comes out and swipes at the blood, going back into his mouth.

“M-Miguel… You have that meeting-”

“Those idiots can wait, I need you right now. I need you to make me feel better.” Miguel leans down to your ear, “Can you do that for me?” He whispers in your ear.

You nod your head.

“Say it.”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Miguel doesn’t waste time and continues his hard and fast past.

You know when you leave his office, you’re going to be stared at. You know you’re going to be limping out of his office… Not like you’re complaining.

© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Sibling Cat Hybrids: Patricia and Pepper

Deciding to take on hybrids was something you were hesitant to do 

Besides being morally controversial for you, it was a huge hit to your spending money

But you got tired of the faux pride you got donating to hybrid-care facilities 

So instead you decide to walk into a shelter (one with good practices)

And you tell them upfront that you’re willing to open your home and heart to the ones who need you most

Crippled, rejected for looks, attitude problems

The helper lights up and then deflates before asking some leading questions

“Do you like cats?”

And that is how you are given Patricia and Pepper

This sister and brother duo are two sides of the same kind

Patricia has a luxuriously long tail and grooming routine that matches

“Are you illiterate? The signed packet told you I needed to be groomed, shampooed, and conditioned regularly.”

“Well yeah, that’s why I left everything in the bathroom.”

“Hold on! You think I’m doing this myself?! Nuh-Uh, You have so much to learn! Grab the brush and pull up a stool, now!”

Demanding as she is gorgeous Patricia is a cat girl with expensive tastes

Until that day she’ll likely swipe your credit card to buy the incredibly overpriced brand-powered shampoo 

And just curl her lip at you when you confront her

“Don’t cry, if you keep working hard I’m sure you’ll pay it off.”

For as unhelpful and arrogant as she is, her brother is an extreme opposite

“I know you showed us to those extra rooms just for us but i-if you don’t mind my stench I think I can serve you better in your room!”

“What?!”

“I’ll be happy to sleep on the floor! I promise I’ll be useful!”

Pepper’s always so eager to help and talk himself down

You’ll literally have to fight him to make sure he’s sleeping and taking care of himself instead of the home

“P–please I’ll probably eat once I finish cleaning this one last thing.”

“Probably?! No, you look like you’ve lost too much weight!”

“Nooo please!”

This dynamic will be going on for a long while 

You going to work and returning home to find either Pepper in danger needlessly risking his life 

Or Patricia throwing out all of your childhood memorabilia because she felt it was tacky

Maybe for once you shed a tear

Or you yell

Or you just completely shut down from any conversation 

In the end, you leave 

For a long time

Longer than you’d go to the store or even work

You’re just gone

“Pat I think you did it again. You scared them off!”

“I scared them off? Please I know very few people who’d be happy coming home to a corpse.”

“At least I was trying to be useful!”

“I took care of the grooming they didn’t do, that’s plenty generous.”

“Thanks to you, they’re sending us away! I really liked this one!”

“Don’t blame me, you cur! They’re leaving because you appall them!”

They argue for hours

Because they are siblings

And it helps with filling the sound of you going through your nightly routine

By the end of it, both of their hair are sticking out 

they’re pacing while nervously staring at the door

So many thoughts in their head 

The embarrassment of being sent back

The disappointment and scorn from the employees when they return

The pain they felt when you reacted the way you did

The suffocating fear of you leaving them forever

They’ve had absent owners…but they were always that way

You were there even if you sighed and scolded them, you were still there

You might’ve kept to yourself but you didn’t ignore them

At the end of the day, they still ate together with you

… They really didn’t like this

When the lock on the door clicks and the light clicking of a turn begins 

They’re leaping for the door

Capturing you in a hug you can’t escape from

“We missed you! I-I’m very sorry! I fished out and cleaned everything! Please forgive me! And please don’t just send me away! Oh and my brother too.”

“PLEASEDON’TSENDUSAWAYPLEASEDON’TPLEASEPLEASEIMIGHTBEPUSHEDTOSTRAPABOMBTOMYSELFANDBLOWINGUP—”

“Whoa whoa, I’m not sending you guys away. Also, Pepper what was that you were going to say?”

“WAAAAHHHH tHANK THAank YOu! WAHHH” 

After Pepper can breathe, you don’t mind sitting down with them to finally speak

“I’m glad you’re not sending us away. I was certain you found us annoying enough to.”

“Oh no I do find you two annoying.”

“What?! wwwwWAAHHHH!”

“But I’m not going to send you away because of that. Also, I think it’s pretty crummy that I can even do that after all the paperwork I signed.”

“WAHH! I’M ANNOYING!?”

“Yes, Pepper now shush. That’s very mature of you I also appreciate your honesty.”

 Ultimately they relax when it comes to being sent away

But they’re worried that you barely address your annoyance 

“Even my friends annoy me. It’s not that bad.”

“But it is. I–we pushed you so far…we’d like not to do this again.”

“I-I think…Pat and I just want to please you…maybe more than just what your morals allow.”

Thus a new routine has begun

One that won’t have you leaving for hours on end

“Good Evening dirt on my heels, who’s going to give me a gift big enough to buy that Prada collar I’ve been eying?”

Now Patricia streams finding a small group of people willing to fund her interests allowing her to contribute to the home 

Pepper continues to clean up the house but with new parameters

“Here (Y/n)! I took pictures of me eating all my meals today! See? Now can I get head pats?”

This works allowing them not to get on your nerves while you navigate life with your two hybrids

If they have any say in it that’ll be all you’ll be aware of

On the other side, Patricia and Pepper are taking their independence very seriously

“Pepper, did you finish your dossier on the coworker who called yesterday?”

“I did, here’s the file. I’ve already gone to the trouble of mapping out their routine; highlighting the best times depending on the method we use.”

“Good work. Now next report?”

“Yes! I found this while cuddling (Y/n) last night~ They got all giggly when I touched a specific spot with my tail.”

“...Last night where was I?”

“Dealing with the neighbor’s loud little pest.”

“Right…For equal treatment, I’ll be initiating our cuddle session tonight.’

“Hahaha…nice imagination Patty but that’s my job.”

Somehow fighting between the siblings still persist but you’d take that over the stalemate you two had before

[deliciousangelfestival]

Underworld Insomnia || 1 - B.Barnes

Character : Bucky × Psychiatrist Female!Reader

Summary: As a ruthless contract killer, Bucky is feared in the underworld of criminals. His opponents freeze when they see him, as he is feared among them. However, they don't know that he could be warm to only one person: his pshychiatrist. The only person who could make him fall asleep.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 ,-

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Please let me know what your thoughts are. I'd love to hear your feedback. Thank you once again.

In the world of secret societies for underground criminals, there's a secret place for criminals to stay, a shop for criminals to buy their weapons, basically, criminals live like normal people but they can only go to places that are built for criminals.

That's the rule.

There's also a particular psychiatrist for criminals only. Since many of the criminals have demons in their minds.

For this job, Dr. Ben is the only person the criminals could go to and ask for advice and medicine so they could go to sleep. Most of them can sleep.

But the only person who has trouble is Bucky Barnes.

His name is enough to make everyone in the underworld shiver. His eyes are enough to make his opponents freeze.

Bucky is their answer if anyone wants a job done without any mistakes.

With the money from the job he finished, he could have a comfortable life for generations. But he doesn't need it because all he wants right now is to sleep.

"I tried what you told me. Work out until I'm tired, learn something new, clean all my weapons, upgrade my car, renovate my house with bulletproofing, sex," Bucky said while he lay on the couch, looking at the ceiling.

Dr. Ben kept writing while listening to his patient.

"I even went to pottery class, baking class, painting class, and sex," Bucky counted on his fingers.

"Still. Nothing works. I still can't sleep. It's been 7 years," Bucky said.

Dr. Ben, who kept writing, replied, "Yeah, you have mentioned sex multiple times."

"White noise, pink noise. In the end, I smashed the Bluetooth speaker. None of your methods work," Bucky said as he sat up and glared at Dr. Ben.

Dr. Ben adjusted his reading glasses. He remained calm, probably one of the few people not afraid even though Bucky was angry.

He clicked his pen and put the report on the table.

"Do you want to try reading fairy tale books?" Dr. Ben asked.

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. "Are you joking with me?"

Dr. Ben replied, "Most of you people have a shitty childhood. Have shitty parents. Perhaps deep down, your kind wants something related to fulfilling your inner child."

Bucky exclaimed, "Woah, doctor, calm down. You're brutally honest here." He sighed, because he knew this method will failed like the rest. "Fine. I'll try." Then he lay back on the couch and closed his eyes.

Dr. Ben picked a children's book and started to read, he flipped through the pages, and began to read aloud, "Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there lived a brave little mouse named Timothy."

"Timothy was no ordinary mouse," Dr. Ben continued, "for he possessed a heart as courageous as a lion and a determination that could move mountains."

"Stop. Stop. It's so weird listening to you. Get someone else," Bucky interrupted, feeling uncomfortable.

Dr. Ben closed the book. "I'll get my apprentice."

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "You've got a new one?" He knew that none of Dr. Ben's employees stayed that long, given the fear of criminals who kept coming for therapy.

Dr. Ben adjusted his glasses. "She could tame Bruce Banner; I think she could do the same to you."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Fine."

Dr. Ben got up from his seat and opened his office door. "Y/N, help me for a bit," he called out.

Bucky heard a melodious voice respond, "Yes?"

The door swung open, revealing a woman with a confident stride and a calm demeanor. She had striking eyes that seemed to hold a depth of understanding, framed by a cascade of dark hair that fell gracefully around her shoulders.

Her posture exuded poise and assurance, hinting at a quiet strength within. She carried herself in professional attire with an air of authority, yet there was warmth in her expression as she met Bucky's gaze.

As you approach your boss, he suddenly puts a children's book in your hand.

You look at him, puzzled. "Huh?"

Dr. Ben pointed at Bucky and explained, "This person can't sleep for years. So I want to see if reading a children's story could make him fall asleep."

Bucky huffs in frustration. As a top assassin in the underworld, it's humiliating if he can only fall asleep with a children's book. "Just do it."

You flinch, knowing the man in front of you is dangerous.

Dr. Ben pats your shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry, he's just cranky. I'll be here too. I need to see if it's working or not."

"Okay," you respond, then sit in the chair near Bucky's couch.

Before opening the book, you can't help but notice the tattoos on his neck and hands.

"Are you done staring?" Bucky asks, irritation evident in his voice.

"Oh, right, I'm sorry," you apologize quickly. "I'll start reading. Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there lived a brave little mouse named Timothy. Timothy was no ordinary mouse, for he possessed a heart as courageous as a lion and a determination that could move mountains."

As you continue reading, Bucky listens intently, his eyes focused on the ceiling as he tries to relax.

"Despite his small size," you continue, "Timothy dreamed of embarking on great adventures and proving himself to be the bravest mouse in all the land."

Bucky's tense expression begins to soften slightly as he listens to the soothing cadence of your voice.

"One day," you narrate, "a fierce dragon threatened the kingdom, causing panic among the inhabitants. But Timothy, undeterred by the danger, volunteered to confront the dragon and save his home."

Bucky's breathing starts to slow down as he gets engrossed in the tale, his earlier restlessness fading away.

"With unwavering courage," you go on, "Timothy faced the dragon, armed only with his wits and determination. And through his bravery and quick thinking, he managed to outsmart the fearsome beast and bring peace back to the kingdom."

As you reach the end of the story, Bucky's eyes grow heavy, and he finally begins to drift off to sleep, a sense of calm settling over him.

Dr. Ben watches silently, nodding in approval as he sees the story's effect on Bucky. It seems that, perhaps, there is power in the simplest of tales to soothe even the most troubled minds.

Bucky's eyes felt heavy. The childish story and your calm voice made him feel relaxed. Your voice seemed more effective than white noise in soothing his troubled mind. As he listened, the tension in his muscles gradually melted away, replaced by a sense of peace and tranquility.

Then Bucky opened his eyes, only to realize he wasn't in the same place in Dr. Ben's office anymore. He found himself on a bed inside an unknown room. Panic surged through him.

Had he been kidnapped?

It would bring shame to his name as the feared killer if true.

As he processed his surroundings, Bucky's hand instinctively went for his knife, ready to defend himself. But soon, he recognized the familiar surroundings of Dr. Ben's building. Relief washed over him, though he remained on edge.

A door creaked open, causing Bucky to tense, his grip tightening on the knife. But to his surprise, it was just Dr. Ben.

"Did you have a good sleep?" Dr. Ben asked calmly.

Bucky clicked his tongue in annoyance and massaged his shoulder. "No. Your methods didn't work. I'm still tired."

"Well, that's natural since you've been asleep for three days," Dr. Ben replied matter-of-factly.

Three days?!

He can't believe it, since he has only been able to sleep for one hour each night for the past seven years. Bucky's eyes widened in disbelief as he checked his phone, seeing the date and numerous missed calls and unread messages.

"It worked?" he muttered, incredulous. He had been able to sleep and hadn't even realized it.

Bucky's amazement lingered as he realized that he had slept for three whole days without even being aware of it. It was a stark contrast to the years of insomnia he had endured, struggling to find even a moment of rest.

The tension that had plagued his body for so long began to ebb away, replaced by a newfound sense of calmness and clarity. He couldn't deny the relief that washed over him, knowing that perhaps, just perhaps, there was hope for him yet.

Then, there was a knock on the door. It was you.

"How is he, doctor? Is he still asleep?" you asked, but you gasped when Bucky's intense gaze met yours.

Was he angry? Did he blame you for making him sleep for three days?

"Y/N, is it?" Bucky inquired.

You responded groggily, "Yes?"

Bucky got on his knees, his right hand resting on his left chest and his left hand reaching for you. He looked at you earnestly and asked, "Will you work for me?"

You were taken aback, as was Dr. Ben. Bucky's unexpected gesture felt like it could lead to a significant misunderstanding, resembling a proposal rather than a job offer.

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Author Note:

Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account. Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating. Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

[circeyoru]

Love love love unwanted soul soo much. I really wonder, does the rest of the residents NEVER ask anything about reader and alastor's relationship?? Like even if they're scared of him and that he always insisted that they just have a normal boss-employee relationship, they're way too close. Mostly because reader has passed all of Al's personal space.

I think Husk would be the most suspicious about it, since he is one of the souls Al owns. And the way reader casually orders and asks Al to do lots of things. But Vaggie would be braver to confront Alastor. Maybe Charlie would probably also ask more, because she wants reader to participate more and Al to not give them too much work load even though they don't look tired at all. And more suspicion would arise because how does reader have connection to Lucifer as well??

Thank you for your love!!

Haha~ Curious about others' reaction huh? They asked. But I only did minor parts about their involvement because the focus was on the Reader/you and Alastor.

An ask similar to this one has been answered, but this is them knowing your relationship.

Everyone notice you being extremely close to Alastor, even when it's strictly labelled as boss and worker. They know it's not normal because you were too chill with Alastor and Alastor was too lenient to you as well.

They questioned and got suspicious of your sudden appearance. Even more when you had a connection with Lucifer. The King of Hell's former informant is working for Alastor? What's going on???

The only one to see you before your introduction was Husk. He saw you in the room Alastor claimed as extra, that room was already decorated like you lived there for a while. It was way too cozy. He is also the only one to see you directly ordering (asking) Alastor to do something and he went as told. He would have labeled you to be the one holding Alastor's leash, but you said Alastor was the one to bring you here. (technically it's not a lie) Then there was your weak aura and power levels. No way someone like you can bring down Alastor. When you had a former business relationship with Lucifer, he was pointing you to be the owner of Alastor's soul, even when it was unlikely.

Husk can read people like an open book, right? He can do the same to you and he knew you were a wild card, perhaps another worse case like Niffty's. But, he doesn't question it. Because if you were to feel threatened by Husk, Alastor would do something to him. It wasn't worth it.

Niffty doesn't question it at all. More demons in the hotel! That's it. A friend of Alastor's a friend of hers.

Angel also doesn't question it. Though he does mimick what you do to get Alastor to react the same. When it's different, he whines about it and makes a scene. Only for Alastor to say you have more leniency because you were his employee and he had his duty as employer to keep. That mostly shuts Angel up.

Vaggie is the one to voice out her concerns for your lack of presence to Alastor without fear. Demanding that you work out in the open and not behind closed doors. Mostly, you weren't there to hear this and heard it from Alastor. On the rare moments that you were, you'd say it's up to Alastor to assign you where you work and not her or Charlie. Alastor handles from there on out. He puts the employer and employee card on the table and always got Vaggie to back down. She can't do much when you didn't object to Alastor's words and nodded along. When Vaggie questions what Alastor does, you step in to tell Vaggie it wasn't her business, as long as it wasn't to harm or threaten the hotel and Charlie's dream. Last resort, Alastor (through your approval) threatens to leave the project and bringing along Husk and Niffty too.

Charlie is another one that's questioning too much. You were the newest member but you were barely around. Even though Alastor doesn't join and he's under no obligation to. You can join. I mean, Husk and Niffty joins too. One loophole though, you weren't like those two, you were to work under Alastor as his assistant of sorts. You weren't under Charlie's command. So she had no power over where you were stationed. You and Alastor used this little detail to your advantage. Charlie always bring up new ideas and excuses to get you to join them, but you were rare present and Alastor was a wall she can't overcome. Too perfect for the two of you.

The fact that you were that close with Alastor raises a lot of questions, and Alastor doing things for you? Even more questions and suspicion as well. But Alastor is capable of protecting you from prying eyes and nosy demons like this group. You staying in the hotel wasn't a must, but an interest. Anymore annoyance and you'll be gone. So will Alastor.

[novasolstarr]

NOVAAA DROP YOU'RE PRESSURE OCS!! AND MY LIFE.... IS YOURS!!!

A little tip for the way you draw Sebastian

(I deeply apologize if I've sent an ask already.. I have the memory of Dory so I can't remember if I even sent one or not.)

FINALLY GOT THEM ALL DRAWN AND SKETCHED UP

OC LORE UP AHEAD

Content warnings before you continue! The upcoming information may contain topics that are sensitive to users, including;

Medical mentions

Vague Child death

It is now 23:00 and I’m so tired and have school and blegh. So enjoy this silly little jabbering of OC lore and my apologies for the typos that are bound to be incoming

ALSO Feel free to ask any questions about these characters, I’m more than happy to answer them :3

The Nurse, Z-156

Also known previously as Andrew Laticdinae

Andrew before being subjected to the procedures from Urbanshade at the Hadal Blacksite was a nurse at the [REDACTED] hospital located within [REDACTED] [REDACTED]. During his round about runs a patient under his care, an elderly individual, known as [REDACTED], had passed after receiving a lethal dose of heart medication which sent the elder into cardiac arrest. The nurse responsible for the death was quick to pin the blame onto Andrew, and in his confusion, poor wording, and inability to afford a good lawyer, Andrew was charged with murder and sent to the [REDACTED] Prison.

It was here that he was eventually picked up by Urbanshade along with a select few other individuals.

Andrew during this time was put into a project which revolves around making agile, quick, deadly, and effective agents. He was one of the latest of these procedures, having been subjected to the mix of Nurse Shark and Sea Krait. The Sea Krait DNA provided Andrew with a scuted underbelly, a vicious venom [complemented with fangs], and a large paddle like tail that allowed him to comfortably, quickly and effectively navigate through the waters, able to Bob and weave between narrow spaces. The Nurse Shark mix also provided him with a primarily cartilage skeleton and a bite that’s near impossible to pry off due to the suction like bite. Should an individual be able to pull Z-156 off, if the venom doesn’t make quick work of them the large chunk of flesh that is pulled off along with Z-156 will certainly leave them in a world of hurt.

Andrew ended up as one of the more successful tests, however the animalistic appearance side effect was unwanted and needed to be worked out. After further study Andrew had been dropped, leaving him to ponder what his fate may become. In a desperate moment, Andrew pleaded to Urbanshade Personnel to allow him to opportunity to work as an on-sight-in-water medic, noting he had exponential experience before ended up in his current position.

It took days of back and forth [with help from his Docile nature] to finally get the Personnel to agree, granting him very very limited freedoms compared to the average experiment.

Though he was far from treated like an employee. Whenever he was to be out on his job, he was fitted with a muzzle to prevent any potential envenomation of divers, he could only eat within his room, was monitored around any medications and was heavily restricted on what he had access to as to prevent any potential attacks.

Despite it, Andrew preferred this over being cooped up in a room to rot or potentially worse, almost overworking himself some days out of fear. Even now a passing Expendable may find this friendly face sitting within the Blacksite, ready to offer up his services in exchange for Data. [This Data is given to Sebastian]

Mechanic Info

For 90 pieces of Data players can have their health restored from anywhere between 20-50 health. Do note though that this comes with a 25% risk of failure, in which the player will have 10%-20% of their health removed [this will not exceed 10 health however].

Players can also flash The Nurse a limitless amount of times on their first time meeting him, however continuing to do so with each meeting will result in him becoming short with the player. By the 7th - 8th meeting and flashing him twice, he will lash out and bite the player dealing a base of 10 damage. Though this in itself is fine, players will then receive 2 tickets of damage for up to 30 seconds. Players that were at 100 health will be knocked down to 30. This can be stopped with a medkit though or eating wall dweller flesh.

Nova Starr, Expendable

Just a self insert for me and Non-canon to my universe :3

False Alarm, Z-326

Also know previously as Nouvel Nebula

Nouvel lived a relatively bland life before Urbanshade, married to their husband Clayton Nebula [OC Owned by @cyanide-cafe], and working various odd jobs they could find. They were relatively lax and had little concern, so when they ended up thrown in prison alongside their husband after suspected of being an acquaintance in his murders and defiling via cannibalism, they were thrown for a heavy loop.

Even during these harder times the two were inseparable and this became further apparent once picked up by Urbanshade and delivered to the Hadal Blacksite.

Here, the two were put under similar genetic splicing with small differences in DNA for the purpose of testing fertility between spliced genetics. Despite the difference in spliced DNA, Urbanshade was capable of producing 3 living offspring using their gametes in a controlled environment via test tubes, only one of which however was able to escape their termination date and still roams the facility unbeknownst to their supposed parents.

It wasn’t until their time in the Blacksite that Nouvel learned of the crimes that landed their husband here and, subsequently, themself, being absolutely horrified by the revelation and distancing themselves as much as they feesibly could from him during this period. The relationship became stiff and strained in this time, made further worse with the eventual separation of the two for their experimenting. Despite their disdain towards him at the time, he was the only comfort they had in this hellscape, falling deep into a mental spiral which further fueled their eventual sporadic behavior.

The extreme mental strain in this time from the constant experimentation, manhandling from personnel, separation and even occasional threats should they continue to lash out and attack, left them flitty about their behaviors towards Expendables. They seem to show more submissive behaviors when groups of 3 or more are around, being passive unless provoked, but the will quickly become incredibly hostile with groups of 2 or fewer.

Mechanic Info

False alarm is a small and agile monster, preferring to hide within dark rooms whilst waiting on unsuspecting Expendables to pass by. Though they are passive if groups exceed more than 2 players, flashing them will result in a hasty hit and run, where they damage the aggressor for 15 damage and then run off to a separate room.

If there are 3 or more in a party there’s a rare chance that False Alarm will even provide a small bit of information about item whereabouts for Expendables lingering in a room too long. This could be vague hints about flashlights, medkits, high priced data, or otherwise.

If there are 2 or fewer Expendables around, False Alarm becomes hyper aggressive, doing multiple hit and runs for 5 damage per hit, targeting the player with the least amount of health. Flashing them successfully 3 times will get them to back off entirely, ending the encounter for the rest of the run.

Be wary when False Alarm is around, for their companion Real Alarm is not far behind..

Theo Nebula, 326-327-5

Theo Nebula is the last of 5 offspring that had come as a result of the project behind Z-326 and Z-327. Theo ended up the most human and most viable of the 5, with the first 2 offspring having never successfully survived after being removed from incubation and the more recent 2 having been long terminated before Theo, as they had no use and were more hassle than they were worth, being far more monsterous in appearance than Theo. Despite being the most human, they still showed several physical changes and even risked a shorter life span due to their rapid growth [Looking almost 13 or so despite being 4 at most]. The project itself at least proved it was possible for mutations that had occurred on individuals could be passed down, and with more proper tweaking may even be able to be further selective about what can and can’t be passed down.

After Theo had been researched to their fullest extent and there wasn’t much use for them anymore, they were set to be terminated just as their previous two siblings. Luckily for young Theo, a familiar face sent the Blacksite into mayhem after releasing the monsters, allowing Theo to escape their fate of being terminated.

From time to time they can be spotted rummaging around rooms or heard crawling in the vents in their search for food and fueling their curiosity of the Blacksite. They’re cautiously curious yet incredibly skittish and will quickly run off whenever approached by expendables. It’s recommended to search where they were last rummaging through as this may provide Expendables with extra data or information

[crossovermadness06]

Imagine you work for the Justice League, but not as a hero, as their "Servant".

♡ ○ ♡ ○ ♡ ○ ♡ ○ ♡

Gn!Reader. Pretty much the whole Justice Leauge x Y/N but 99% of it is platonic.

I could write a thing tho, where Y/N pretty much has their own harem but with time.

Also, completely SFW, I know the title sounds suggestive lmao.

♡ ○ ♡ ○ ♡ ○ ♡ ○ ♡

☆ Servant is such a harsh way of calling your position, but you'd prefer it over "Maid" or "Jaintor" any day.

☆ How'd you be hired? You'd probably get the opportunity from a friend of yours, who you know is a hero.

☆ For pure simplicity, let's say you know Clark is the S-Man. He notices you're looking for a job outside of the daily planet, and confidentiality, the Leauge is looking to hire some clean-up crew.

☆ You get the job pretty much instantly. You had no family, few friends, so the qualifications for the job were simple. To keep you protected, you'd have to live within any place the JL works at, minus the Hall of Justice. Way too public.

☆ You'd essentially go missing for days on end, and no one would notice. Those days would be used cleaning, organizing top to bottom. This was a lot of work, especially for places like the Watchtower, Titans Tower, basically all the "Towers".

☆ You'd also be made to fetch coffee, donuts, or, maybe, print out documents if needed. Sometimes, you'd get "special missions," like hiding a flashdrive at under your pillow until the Leauge needs it back.

☆ The job was tiring and endless work. But for the paycheck Batman gave you weekly? You were surprised they weren't making you do triple the amount of work.

☆ The hardest part was keeping your composure at the start of the job.

☆ Before your life was filled with coffee stains and printed reports. But now you were seeing world-famous heros on the daily, visiting places never before seen, hell you went to space!

☆ Now you realize though.

☆ It's still a life of coffee stains and printed reports.

☆ Only now, the coffee is for any overworked Bat, and the reports are full of people the FBI is too scared to add on their wanted list.

☆ You're so used to the heroes around you, you've started treating them like any other co-worker you did back at the DP.

☆ They enjoyed the change, though. They seem to prefer it over your fan-behavior your first weeks there.

☆ The highlights of your work week mostly consist of cleaning over at the Watch Tower, walking any pets some Superheros may have, helping younger heros with their homework, and getting your two hour long break.

☆ You've also gotten close with the Superheros around you. Clark was always a friend of yours, but you also seem to get along well with the Flash, who asks you to just call him Barry.

☆ You also got along extremely well with Wonder Woman and Aquaman, expressing great intrests in their origin and cultures. Hawkgirl added herself to the conversation most of the time, which you never did mind.

☆ This isn't even beginning to mention how much sidekicks and younger League members absolutely enjoy your presence. Who knew Batman and Supeman had young sons? And who knew they would've liked you so much? You're like, their favorite person now!

☆ At first, you thought that despite all the friendships, you were still just an employee, replaceable and exchangeable.

☆ Sometimes you'd get their orders wrong. Sometimes you'd accidentally print too many copies, or forget to clean a spot, or fold a certain way, or wash with a specific detergent.

☆ Each time you messed up, you knew it was only a matter of time before they fired you. Replaced you.

☆ But one day, when you were taken by Scarecrow by pure coincidence while you were walking through Gotham, they soothed your fears.

☆ Scarecrow had no idea who you were and placed you in a cage with other victims. He had some evil plan that you were honestly too horrified to even listen to, but you were positive it had to do with some fear-inducing chemicals. It always is.

☆ He never got the chance to, though. As it only took mere minutes for the Bat to barge in with an unnecessary amount of backup.

☆ The way Black Canary instantly was checking each part of your body for injuries had you feeling special. And the way other heroes crowded around you, each offering something to you.

☆ Wonder Woman had a blanket for you. The lanterns gave you water, and snacks. Both Kid and Regular Flash offered up heating pads and their super speed for some sort of massage.

☆ The way none of the other victims in the room got spoiled like this made you flustered. They all had their own places to protect. Why all cometo Gotham for you?

☆ They all like you way more than they'll ever let on. You're family now. You're a part of their schedules, a part they can't afford to change. Not now. Not ever.

[lixenn]

OCtober 2024 day 1: fav OC

To no ones surprise my favourite is my main guy Daniele Costa aka Chief because let's be real here I can talk about him for ages. I love Dave to bits but Chief was my first proper OC for a fanfic and I'm most familiar with him. He accompanied me through tough times (aka thesis hell) and through him I was able to meet you guys! And I love you all to bits! So Chief is my dude! My tired bean that is in desperate need of a vacation and a nap (I think he might also be my fav because I relate to him so much lmao).

I made the drawing but I've also written a snippet where I used @zoroara's OCtober prompt day 1: foamy as a writing prompt (just so people are aware: I'm sticking to the #bweirdoctober prompts for this year but I had this snippet pre-written for ages and I don't wanna just let it let it rot in my documents. So I hope it's alright that I add this here 👉👈)

@myrmyrtheorca have Sam :)

The washroom looked like a bomb exploded in it. Foam everywhere, floor just one big puddle of water, one wall absolutely riddled with suspicious cracks and the washing machine was smoking like chimney in a frosty winter. At this point Dan feared stepping into the room just in case the ceiling would fall on his head.

He pinched his nose, once again regretting well … every single choice that brought him to this moment.

“Why?”

His question resembled more of a plea for divine intervention than an actual inquiry.

Why indeed.

Why is he awake at - he checked his watch - way-too-fucking-early o’clock? Why is he dealing with this? Why did he ever decide to work for the Varia? Once again, why is he awake right now?

“Ummm…”

He turned to his subordinates who had grouped themselves together in a trembling pile, which probably functioned as some form of moral support.

Dan narrowed his eyes at the pile not bothering to find out who actually spoke up.

“Well,” he said, tapping his foot. “Why am I here?”

A panicked and telepathic exchange of looks followed to determine which poor schmuck would need to answer his question. In the end Sam - four months, cleaning crew, allergic against bees - was shoved to the front like a sacrificial lamb. She was certainly shaking like one.

Honestly, it’s not like he will eat them. Unlike Vlasta he had standards for what entered his mouth.

Dan raised his eyebrow at the woman who clearly wished for the ground to swallow her whole.

“I am waiting.”

Her eyes skittered around the room steadily avoiding his gaze until they eventually focus on the broken washing machine. Resigned, she slumped into herself.

“The washing machine blew up.”

“Clearly,” Dan said, his tone the only dry thing in the entire room. “This doesn’t answer my question.” He stepped closer to his subordinate, placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face until she was caught directly in his piercing stare.

“Tell me, Sam, why has Varia’s Chief of Staff been dragged out of bed to deal with one. Singular. Destroyed. Room?”

To her credit Sam did neither break eye contact nor did she start crying. However, her skin took a rather ashen parlour and if she bit her lip any harder there would be blood dropping down her chin.

“I- we- ummm…” she stuttered, trying to come up with some excuse that would save this situation.

Dan simply waited. And waited. And waited some more. In the end the silence dragged on for too long and Sam looked one second away from a panic attack, so he came to the conclusion that his last lecture of being kept in the loop had backfired on him. Apparently, his employees took the subject matter so much to heart and are now running to him in a panic for the most trivial of matters.

Time to correct that misconception.

He let go of Sam and addressed the hoard in its entirety.

“I was told it was emergency. Do you know what I qualify as an emergency?” He didn’t give them an opportunity to answer and started counting off incidents on his fingers. “Any of the assassin's going on a rampage. The castle actively burning down. PoisonChem messing with the water supply again. Or God forbid, my coffee supply mysteriously vanishing. You know what isn’t included on that list? Property destruction so minor it doesn't even make a dent into our repair budget.”

He crossed his arms, his whole being screaming displeasure and disappointed in all of their decision making skills. “Now, you are going to clean up this mess.” One of the newbies in the hoard furrowed his eyebrows, rebellion clear on his face.

Well, we can’t have that.

Dan clicked his tongue. “I will hear no argument. Apparently you weren’t able to deal with this yourself, since you deemed my presence a necessity. Well, here I am, giving you the orders you needed. Sort this out, get the Reps for the wall and ask Logistics if they have a spare washing machine on hand.” His words were met with frozen bodies and blank stares. “Did I fucking stutter? Move it!”

What followed could only be described as productive chaos which was an accurate summary of day to day happenings of Varia Housekeeping. It involved a lot of swearing, whacking people with brooms and the occasional breakdown about the horror of the week. How any cleaning gets done in this process was a mystery to Dan, but he will not argue with the results (unless the results are sloppy in which case he will make arrangements).

He turned to leave, fully intending to crawl under his blanket again. But before fully exiting the room, he looked back once more.

“And Sam?”

“Y-yes?”

“I want a full report on the culprits of this mess. Have it on my desk on Tuesday.”

“Tuesday!” she squeaked. “But Chief, it’s Monday!”

His smile was neither kind nor particularly nice. “Better hurry then.”

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Kim Dokja headcanons with fem!reader who is a writer

These headcanons are dedicated to my friend @d10nsaint who recommended me this webtoon series to me when I had nothing else to read lol. Enjoy! :)

Prior to the apocalypse, Kim Dokja was neither a social butterfly nor a likable person on Minosoft’s Q and A team. Most people avoided him, and he liked to keep a low profile so he could read his webnovels in peace. 

It was a perfect, quiet routine for a contract worker like himself  until the arrival of a new junior shattered it all. [First Name] [Last Name], recently transferred from the company’s [Country] branch to HQ. And she was assigned to work under him. 

Not only was the junior a quick learner, but she was also very good-looking. Kim Dokja might be a reader at heart, he wasn’t a blind fool to not notice her. She was definitely on her way to becoming the next Yoo Sangah in the company: charming, kind, and willingly to stay late to help the team finish up any assignments for the next meeting. 

He definitely did not have a chance with someone like them. At least that was what he had thought until he looked over in her cubicle to go over some paperwork when he saw the artwork of a web novel on her computer but she wasn't there. 

SOMEONE ELSE BESIDES HIM READ WEBNOVELS?! The man was stunned to say the least. However, right now he could not afford to look like a weirdo with the CEO making random rounds to each department today. So, like the gentleman he is, he placed the documents on your desk and went right back to work. 

But he kept an eye on her…in a non-creepy way of course! It was just….hard  for him to make conversation with someone. It definitely took Kim Dokja a few times to ask [First Name] if they would be interested in going to get a bite to eat on the way home from a particularly tiring day in the office. 

To his surprise and delight, she accepted. It was nothing fancy, just a food stall. When he saw that her phone screen was opened up to the newest chapter of Three Ways of Survival he couldn’t help but blurt out that it was a mind-blowing twist to the story. 

[First Name]'s reaction to his words was stunned silence, followed by them asking him that he’s read the novel too with a starry look in her eyes. 

After that, Kim Dokja and [First Name] exchanged numbers. While at Minosoft,  the two of them worked together and remained professional. If one or the other were invited to drinks, they’d follow them. Nothing too odd to raise any alarms, just casual banter that even made a few of the other employees raise her eyebrows.

It was a whole different story when they were off the clock though. 

The two of them either went out somewhere, or just spent a good chunk of the evening texting each other web novel recommendations or their thoughts on the latest chapter of TWSA.

Kim Dokja thought he knew everything about his growing crush on [First Name] until she shyly dropped another startling revelation on him just a year after discovering that they loved reading as much as he did: [First Name] [Last Name] was a web novel writer.

Not only that, but her work was something he’d recently started to read when tls123 went on a brief hiatus due to health issues. 

Seriously, how could someone be so perfect in his eyes?!

Naturally, he read [First Name]’s work and gave her honest feedback on the plot’s progression, the characters, any and everything that would make her grin from ear to ear or hum in contemplation about where she could improve. 

He has the honor of reading her rough drafts before she published it online. Not going to lie, some of his ideas came from his favorite web novel. But [First Name] deeply appreciated his help and often thanked him for his support, especially when she was hit with writer’s block.

It took Kim Dokja another six months before he worked up the courage to ask [First Name] out on a date. He was terrified, fearing that he might lose his only friend…but seeing the bright red hue on  [First Name]’s face and hearing her stutter that she would be delighted to go out with him as more than a co-worker and a friend made his heart skip a beat.

She….she really…liked him too, huh? That’s…great. No, it was more than great. This is probably one of the happiest memories he still kept close to his heart: knowing that he loved someone, and she loved him back.

And now, no matter what happened in these scenarios, he would protect and provide for [First Name]. She was precious to him, and she gladly reciprocated that same devotion and love with no strings attached or scheming. 

It still warmed his heart to see her cuddle with Gil-Yeong and Shin Yu-Seong late at night or work with the rest of his party to ensure that everyone was prepared for what lay ahead next. 

He also took secret, sadistic delight in seeing his significant other win arguments against Han Sooyoung, especially about stories or writing. 

No matter what she said, a plagiarist is still a plagiarist even if people said that SSSSSS-Grade Infinite Regressor is superior to Three Ways of Survival in every way.

.

[slushiepizza]

I Love You, Just Like This

Guy/Honey (Redacted Audio)

Loving has never come easy for Honey. Physical affection nor words of affirmation has never been their forte, yet they desperately wanted Guy to know that they love him more than they could express.

Tags : Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Honey works at Vesta and Kayla is Honey's Coworker, Struggles with Affection/PDA, Swearing

also on ao3

notes : SDHBSHDB this is my first fanfic ever;; and I don't really know what I'm doing

Sheets of torrential rain poured down on Dahlia. Honey looked down upon their now-ruined shoes as puddles started to form under the side of the office building that they’d taken refuge in. They shifted from one foot to the other. It’d been a long, tiring day of work and they’d do anything to crawl under the covers and sleep, yet the late-August weather didn’t seem to be on their side. Sighing, they pulled their work blazer against their cold, miserable body. 

A voice came from beside them. “Damn, it still hasn’t stopped raining?” 

“Yeah. Been thirty minutes and no signs of slowing.” 

Kayla, fellow Vesta Distribution Co. employee, started typing on her phone, the light of the monitor glowed against her face. “Are you also taking an Uber, or-? We could share the ride if we happen to live in the same direction.” 

“Uh, no. Thanks for the offer, though. My boyfriend is coming. Although there’s no telling when he’ll be here. Traffic and all.” 

“Huh,” Their co-worker looked up from their phone. “Is he also from work, or?” 

Honey gave a dry laugh. “No, but, you’ve met him, remember. It’s Guy, my plus one at your engagement party?” 

“...Right. I don’t know, I just assumed that you were friends or something. No offense, but the two of you seemed distant, is all. And I never really pegged you to be the type for relationships.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I’m not sure, it’s your whole…vibe. I guess. You can come across as intimidating. Like, those new-hires you trained? Completely terrified of you. It’s like they’re trying not to shit their pants every time you give them feedback. Same thing with your boyfriend. It’s like you’re tense. You guys didn’t even hold each other’s hand or anything. That’s why I assumed you’re just friends. ” 

Honey tightened their grip on their work bag. “Really,” they said in disbelief, trying to not sound hurt.  “I don’t do it on purpose. And my criticisms were all constructive.” 

They ignored the second comment.

“I know,” Kayla reached out and patted them on the shoulder. “I mean, for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re all that…imposing. Much. Anyway, my ride’s here. See you on Monday.” She took out an umbrella and walked away to the awaiting car. 

Honey was alone again, and it gave them all the time in the work to mull over their co-worker’s words. The bright, fluorescent lights of the skyscrapers of Dahlia’s Business District  made Honey feel small. As cars zoomed past, Kayla’s words echoed in their head. 

I just assumed that you were friends or something. The two of you seemed distant. 

It hit them like a pile of bricks. A dull, painful feeling wormed its way in their chest. The sound of rain against the pavement rang in their ears. 

“Honey!” 

They turned around to see him, and oh, how they ached. Guy fixed them with a toothy smile, and looked at them with more love than they deserved as he held the umbrella over their head. He giggled, “Aw, is my honey-baby cold? Tired, perhaps? Never fear, as your noble cavalier is here to rescue you.“ 

“Hey.” In the quiet of their car, his voice quieted to a whisper. “Long day at work?” 

“Yeah, it’s been a shitty day. I’m ready to pass out.” They cleared their throat  and mumbled. “Thanks, by the way. For picking me up.” 

“Of course. I’d never leave my amazing, beautiful, partner stuck in the rain. Alone, in the cold, craving the warm embrace of their sexy and handsome boyfriend.” 

“You shouldn’t have to. It’s late, and I know the shift at Max’s tired you out already.” 

Guy did look exhausted. Honey was well aware of how packed his schedule was, with the pitch meeting that ran all morning and his sixteen-hour shift at the pizza place. There were bags under his eyes, yet when he wasn’t looking at the road, his eyes still gazed at them so warmly. 

“You know that it’s nothing. You underestimate me, Honey! I’m very familiar with being tired, just like how you tired me out last night, eh-” 

“Guy!” They said, exasperated, yet a laugh escaped their lips. “You’re so stupid.” 

“Oh, you love me for it,” he sang as his right hand rested against Honey’s thigh, searching for theirs. Guy’s hand was warm as his fingers interlocked with theirs and gave a reassuring squeeze. 

Silence soon fell over the two of them like a blanket, and all Honey could think was the way the light from passing cars outside the window illuminated Guy’s soft features. His brows furrowed in concentration, yet his eyes were unbearably kind. His mouth curved into a relaxed smile like this was easy. Like loving them was second nature.

It was always like this, with Guy. They knew that he’d do anything for them, things beyond being stuck in bad-weather and traffic when he could’ve been resting after working all day. 

A heavy feeling washed over them. Did Guy know that they’d do anything for him, too? 

Honey loved Guy. More than anything. Yet this much love for someone was uncharted territory for them,  the vulnerable feeling wormed under their skin uncomfortably. A familiar line of thought came, one that they have visited and revisited multiple times whenever they thought about their boyfriend. 

Guy deserved someone who could love him properly. 

They knew this about Guy: when he loved someone, he’d love them with his whole being. It’s the boundless, unrestrained sort of love, with nothing held back. Everyone in his life would attest to that, even if they did so with an eyeroll and sigh. 

A memory came to mind. Back in college, when they weren’t dating yet, Honey had a horrible fever. It’d been their second night at Dahlia, and they were stuck in bed. Guy, the college-assigned roommate they barely knew at the time, stayed by their side with a bowl of chicken noodle soup when all of his friends were out on freshman-year parties. 

Caring for someone never came naturally for Honey. They were used to being there for themselves, and they just drifted. They came and went from people’s lives without saying a word, only making their presence known when necessary. 

It finally dawned on them; they should try harder, for Guy’s sake.

 Acting so indifferent towards him to the point that their coworker never knew that they were in a relationship with him was a clear sign that they haven’t been putting enough effort to love him. The pangs of guilt clawed at their insides, and they desperately wished that they didn’t have so many hard edges. 

“We’re hooome. Now it’s time for a shower and later we can be snug as a bug in a rug-,” Guy turned to look at them and paused. 

“...Honey? Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” 

They swallowed the lump in their throat. They felt so useless, here they were, being a burden to him again. Guy looked at them with a concerned expression.

”We don’t have to talk about it right now, if you don’t want to. It’s just that- There’s something’s on your mind, isn’t there?

Honey averted their gaze. Please don’t look at me like that. 

“Guy,” they started, trying to force the words out of their mouth.“Do you want me to…do more PDA?” 

Honey was horrified. It definitely was not how they wanted to sound. It’s embarrassing, almost juvenile. 

Guy didn’t laugh. His thumb ran soothing circles in the back of their palm. 

“Honey, no.” he frowned. “Where’d that come from?” 

“Well, a coworker said that she assumed that we were friends. Presumably because we seemed… distant. And she’s right, you know, it is a little weird that we don’t really do that when other people’s around. All because I’m afraid of people staring and I just- can't.” Honey felt warm tears started rolling down their face. 

“And fuck, Guy,” Honey choked back a sob. “I want people to know that I love you. I want you to know that I love you so damn much.” 

“Honey,” his voice sounded hurt. “Can I hold you?” 

As they nodded, he reached for them over the centre console and wrapped his arms around them. 

“I know, Honey. I know. You love me in ways that I can’t even describe. And you don’t have to do anything you feel uncomfortable with to prove that to others. ” 

His honey buried their face in his chest, staining his shirt, yet he paid little mind. “You gave me more love than I deserve. I know you love me because you stayed with me when I struggled to finish my manuscripts. Because you told me to rest when I was sick and refused to stay still.” 

“You were such a little shit back then,” they sniffed. 

“I know!” he laughed.” And you laid down with me until I fell asleep, even when you had a lot of work to do.” 

“I have no doubt that you love me, Honey,” Guy tightened his hold on them. “And I love you, just like this. Just as you are.” 

The rain outside the car slowed into a light drizzle, and in the stillness of the night, there were no witnesses to how Honey cupped the side of Guy’s face and kissed him. 

[mangoisms]

circle k (back to you)

summary: in which you're just the graveyard shift employee at circle k bombarded by vigilantes.

━ chapter three: this doesn’t feel right | read chapter two

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 6.6k

━ warnings: robbery, gun gets pulled but nothing happens, brief mention of blood, basically canon-typical violence

━ masterlist

━ a/n: decided to include the last minute scene i wrote between tim and steph, specifically the one at the very end. fair warning, we shift to steph’s pov! also my first time writing for a canon chatacter so be gentle <3

“How’ve things been?”

“Like you don’t know.”

Red Robin, you think, sure has the gall to look as smug as he does right now.

After all, it’s not as if he had a point to prove to you. You very specifically told him he didn’t and that you didn’t care what he did regardless of whether he took your advice or not. 

Despite the look on his face, he manages to say, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” you say, a little bit more accusingly than you mean to, following him as he ventures to the candy aisle. 

“Alright,” he concedes, not looking at you as he bends forward to peer at the display of gummy candy. “But just so you know, it ended up taking a life of its own. You’ve made a solid impression so far.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Not at all. The list of places we can visit like this without having the cops called or worse is very short.”

“But that perception works.”

“Well, sometimes it’s less about fear and more about plain disapproval. Which also does its own job but… tiring, sometimes.”

That… makes sense. The Flash can walk down the street in Keystone and Central without anyone getting all up in arms about it. These guys can’t. 

“But it’s necessary, no?” Just curiosity. Not agreeing, exactly. 

Red Robin takes two packs of sour gummy worms and straightens, turning away from you to head to the refrigerators at the back. “Doesn’t change the fact that we can find it a little bit tiring. Makes you wonder if you can strike a balance, but in the end, it’s nothing more than an ideal. Fear rules best.”

“I’m sure.”

“Civilian, remember?”

“Yeah, well, this civilian gets to pass judgment since I’m a citizen of this city just like you guys are.” 

Seems like they forget that sometimes. Or Batman does. You’ve heard whispers of metas who found out they had powers and attempted to use them for good. Only to be sharply turned away by Batman. 

There is something to be said about ensuring not just anybody goes out and does what they do, lest they get themselves and others killed, but the impression you’ve gotten is that he doesn’t allow metas in the city. No matter their experience or skill level. The only exception to the rule, so far, is Signal. 

You don’t know. When you were younger, they seemed cool. As you got older, that changed. How could you trust them? How could anyone know if they were trying to do good or if they were just enacting their own convoluted brand of justice? Red Hood’s existence several years ago proved that to you and all the others. 

Even if he was trying to set himself apart from Batman or whatever, the fact remains that everyone in East End, in Park Row, in the Narrows, in the Bowery, feared that they might be next. Didn’t matter if you were innocent or not because one’s definition of innocent differed sharply from his—from theirs. And when you were desperate like most people there were, that changed everything, too. 

Sure, the GCPD is corrupt and so is the justice system and the government and practically every institution in this city, in this country, but… you just don’t know. 

So, maybe he does have a point to prove to you.

Maybe they all do. 

“Well, look,” he starts, surprising you as he turns with two bottles of Zesti in hand. “If you want us to stop coming around, we will. No harm done.”

Fine.

Fine.

Maybe you’ll regret the decision but… it does make them all the more tangible to you. 

“It’s fine. Keep coming around. Might discourage anyone from trying their luck and it keeps my shifts interesting.”

“And it’s all about you, is it?”

“If not, find another Circle K to haunt.”

He laughs. The sound is familiar but nice, in a way. Comforting almost. It’s then you shake your head and turn away sharply, trying to push the feeling away.

There’s that, too. Maybe if you can keep Red Robin coming around long enough, you’ll figure out what exactly it is about him that bothers you, that niggles at you.

It should help take your mind off things. Like your growing concern about Tim’s lack of contact with you. You and Steph have hung out twice since she came back and both times he said he was busy. It shouldn’t be something that bothers you, but the fact that your attempt a few days ago to hang out with him alone for ice cream was also shot down with that same excuse. And of course, his sparse replies to your texts.

But he did reply eventually. Just some agreement about what you said about Signal. Didn’t exactly carry the conversation much further but at least he replied, right? Same goes for the shared group chat between you, him, and Steph.

You haven’t spoken to her about it, either, but you don’t want to.

It’s—complicated.

That’s just what your life feels like these days.

Complicated.

Red Robin keeps coming around.

The others come around, too. You don’t see much of Signal working the night shift but you do see Black Bat again. Even Spoiler, though she keeps her distance for a reason you can’t understand. Not to say she is mean or anything. She just waves at you but she never says much else. You’ll hear her and Black Bat talking quietly, though the words themselves are lost on you no matter how hard you strain your ears.

You keep worrying about Tim, of course, and hanging out with Steph, who squeezes in time to see you in between her internship with social services. 

For a while, things are calm. The vigilantes who pop up grow increasingly familiar and any wariness evaporates. 

Then you get a new face.

The guy walking around the store in the oversized grey hoodie is doing a bad job at robbing you, you think.

Well, he hasn’t actually robbed you. But his hand stays in the pocket of his hoodie, clearly grasping something as he makes a couple circuits around the store. Either scoping it out to see if there is anyone else to worry about or trying to work himself up to it. You think it’s the latter, with how nervous and sweaty he looks. 

Mostly, it’s for your own nerves to think that. 

It’s been a hot minute since the store was robbed and you were held at gunpoint (or knifepoint). You aren’t explicitly allowed to trigger the silent alarm until either of those things make an appearance, so even with the bad feeling in your gut, you can’t yet do anything. 

You are close, though. So very close. 

But you don’t have to wait any longer as he rounds the corner and pulls out the gun. 

Oh, great.

Before he can say anything, before you can say or do something, the door swings open.

When you both look, there is nothing there.

You wince at the rush of hot smelly air from the outside.

“Who—who’s there?!” he yells, then swings the gun back to you. “What did you do?!”

“I didn’t do anything—”

The arrow comes out of nowhere. 

One blink and it’s embedded in his hand, the same hand holding—previously holding—the gun. You flinch as the weapon clatters sharply to the ground, your stomach churning at the sight of the arrow embedded in his hand, blood dripping; he yells in pain, dropping to his knees. 

Then comes the owner of the arrow.

Dressed in black and dark shades of purple, the Huntress is a sight to behold. Her boots are soundless on the tiles. She looks��� bored as she talks to someone. Some kind of comm, you guess. 

“Yeah, I know, I’m on my way back, I’m picking up coffee. From the—yeah. So he’s gotten to you, too? Figures. What’s the sound—? Oh, just some idiot trying to rob the store. Yeah, go ahead and call the cops.”

You stare, heart beating so quickly you feel a little dizzy, as she knocks the guy out, leaving him to slump on the ground. She kicks the gun further away from him for good measure.

Finally, she looks at you. 

The Huntress, a figure you’ve only seen in the newspaper or articles online, mostly grainy pictures, is very pretty up close. Shoulder-length dark hair, olive skin, lips painted a deep, pretty shade of purple, and sharp blue eyes, easily revealed through her mask. 

“Are you okay?” she asks, watching you carefully.

“Y-Yeah,” you stammer. “Thank you.”

A slight shrug. “All in a day’s work. Coffee?”

“Um. Over there.”

“Thanks.” 

You watch, befuddled, as the Huntress steps over the body of the now-unconscious robber and strides to the coffee machine, entirely unbothered as she grabs three cups. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know how you take your coffee, O. Give me some credit. Is Cat coming by? No? Alright, just you and BC, then.” 

As the machine sputters out coffee, she comes back over to you. “Do you have any drink carriers?”

“Yeah, they’re over there.”

You point them out, on the other side of the Slurpee machine, and she nods her thanks, grabbing one. 

She returns to the counter a couple minutes later. 

“So, um,” you start, clearing your throat. “Is there anything in particular I should say to the police about this?”

She tilts her head, confused for a moment, before realizing what you mean.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. You can say it was me. They’ll want to see the footage, too. Let them.” She pauses, giving you an appraising look. “Is there anyone you would like me to call?”

“Call?” you ask, confused as you ring up the coffees.

She fiddles with a pouch in her utility belt without taking her eyes off you, pulling out a ten dollar bill.

“Red Robin?”

“Red—no. No, I don’t think… I’m fine, I mean.” 

Huntress nods and lets it go, accepting her change. 

“The cops’ll be here in a few,” she says. “I’ll be around until then, so don’t worry.”

 “Thank you, again.”

She gives you the smallest of smiles. “Like I said. All in a day’s—night’s—work.”

You watch her go, one part of you not wanting her to leave, but the other assuaged by her promise to hang around and make sure nothing and nobody bothers you again.

The police arrive a little while after that. By the arrow in the man’s hand, they already know who saved you, but they still demand to see the footage.

“So, it was the Huntress?”

“Yes.”

“Has she ever come by?” 

“No.”

“Have you ever interacted with her anywhere else?”

You pause, barely stopping yourself from narrowing your eyes, because you do not like the accusatory tone this cop is giving you. What did he say his name was? Bullock or something. 

You send a silent apology to Sandra Bullock for having to share her last name with this idiot.

“Well?” he asks, burning cigarette hanging from his lips, arms crossed. The smell of tobacco is nauseating this close. What’s worse is you’re outside while the other guys handle things inside. Even at one in the morning, the heat edges on unbearable and the humidity is even worse, making your skin tacky with it. 

“No,” you say, a tiny bit exasperated. “I have never interacted with her before this. Why would I want to?”

“You were talking to her.”

“She was talking to me. Asked me if I was okay.” 

Unlike any of these assholes who blew in here, sirens wailing, and made you put your hands up as they came in, guns brandished, even though the guy was obviously down for the count. Honestly, they scare you more than the shooter. At least in that moment. These guys can be real trigger-happy.

Now, they’re just a pain in your ass.

You need a Slurpee, you think. No, deserve one. For your troubles.

“It’s cut-and-dry, Harv,” the other detective, Montoya, puts in, having stepped away. She sends you a sympathetic look that just annoys you even more. “Got some calls from a few other convenience stores for suspicious activity. They saw this guy, too, but he always left before doing anything. Guess he finally worked up the nerve to do it here but it didn’t work out well in his favor.”

Bullock grunts. “You run her ID?”

Oh, for the love of—

“She’s clear. We’re good.”

Behind you, two EMTs haul the still-unconscious robber out and into the ambulance, which promptly leaves; a cop with gloves on steps out, the gun in a baggie. 

Montoya asks you a few more questions, obviously trying to make up for Bullock’s brusque manner of speaking, but it’s a futile effort. You still cooperate, however, as politely as you can with the annoyance still burning inside you and this damnable heat. 

Eventually, they leave, called away to some other incident, cars peeling away from the curb, blue-and-red lights flashing, sirens wailing. 

You watch them go, allowing your scowl to come out full-force, your arms crossed tightly over your chest.

“Bullock’s always like that. It’s not personal.”

“Jesus,” you hiss, heart pounding as you whirl around; it takes a moment for your eyes to pick out Red Robin leaned against the brick apartment building next to the store, his figure mostly cloaked in shadows.

He steps into the light. Despite the nonchalant tone of his previous words, he looks, dare you say, worried.

“Just coming around?”

“No. I heard what happened. Wanted to come and see how you were.”

“Annoyed. And hot. And tired. Come on, let’s go inside. The AC isn’t that great but it’s better than this.”

Red Robin follows you in. You click your tongue upon finding the blood from the guy’s hand still on the tile. So, now you have to clean that, too, on top of the paperwork you have to fill out for the incident. Great.

You jump at the nudge of a knuckle between your shoulder blades. “What—”

“I can clean it up.”

“No, that’s—”

“Let me do it. I have more experience cleaning blood than you.”

“Charming,” you mutter. “But alright, fine. Thanks.”

“Cleaning supplies?”

“First aisle.”

A nod and he turns, cape fluttering behind him.

You rub your forehead, feeling a headache start to form, and continue for the Slurpee machine at the other end of the store. 

A few minutes later, Red Robin joins you, wiping his gloved hands with what looks and smells to be antiseptic pads. 

“Good as new,” he tells you, reaching for a Slurpee cup, too, as you sip at yours. “Like nothing ever happened.”

You sigh. “Thanks. Appreciate it.”

“So,” he starts, holding the cup beneath the tube for… the Zesti Cola flavor? What a complete weirdo. 

“Are you—” he stops when he looks at you. “You’re judging me.”

“Who comes in to get a Cola-flavored Slurpee? That’s weird. You might as well just get a bottle of it.”

“Woah. It’s so not the same thing. If there was a drink form of, what do you get? Blue raspberry? Yeah. If there was a drink form of that, would you do that instead? A Slurpee is about the consistency. The slushy factor.”

Okay, that’s fair, but something about everything he just said makes you laugh. Hard.

Maybe the heat is getting to you. Maybe it’s the hysteria setting in. Maybe it’s Red Robin passionately defending his choice in Slurpee flavor and saying shit like ‘The slushy factor’ with a straight face. You don’t know. 

“You’re finally losing it, aren’t you?” Despite his words, Red Robin looks almost relieved. He really was worried, you surmise, which is a… touching thought.

You quell your giggles, shaking your head; though the laughter was nice, your head is really pounding now.

“Here,” he says, digging through a pouch at his utility belt, pulling out a mini packet of… huh. Tylenol.

“Tampered?” you ask, taking it from him, anyway.

“If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it already.”

“Again. Charming.” But it still doesn’t change the thoughtfulness of the action; he doesn’t have to. If anything, this stuff is probably best kept for him. Though with their proclivity for putting their lives in danger, you don’t imagine Tylenol would be particularly helpful against gunshot wounds, but still…

“Thanks,” you say, a little quieter now, more meaning in your voice as you tear it open and shake out two pills.

Red Robin shakes his head. “It’s the least I can do.”

You can tell he means it. Which is, again, both touching and maybe a little bit confusing, too.

But trying to decipher why he does what he does is a futile effort.

This is, after all, the same guy who dresses up and goes out fighting the worst of the worst night after night.

Best not to look too closely. Who knows what you might find.

Despite your best efforts, Steph finds out about what happened. Something about the newspaper, which is odd, because you don’t recall seeing the news there—honestly, much more crazy shit happens overnight in Gotham. Robberies are old news.

But either way, you can’t complain too much because you are appreciative of her coddling the next day, which includes, but is not limited to, ordering takeout, burrowing on your crappy couch together, and watching old 2000s movies.

The only thing missing is—

“He said he was busy but he sent me the money for takeout. To make up for it.”

You purse your lips but don’t say anything. That you don’t want his money. You just want—

Nothing.

“We don’t need him,” Steph says determinedly in the next second. Which is a departure from what she usually says—that you’ll see Tim eventually, that his work at WE will let up. You don’t have the energy to ponder why.

You sigh, sinking further into the couch. Steph is warm next to you. You can smell her shampoo. Jasmine.

“I guess not,” you concede in a mumble.

You can’t do anything but concede. After all, it’s your initial avoidance of him at the start of June that caused this, right? And he keeps dodging your calls, your requests to hang out—points in which you might’ve been able to clear the air, apologize for it, but… no.

It’s not like you could track him down. You know the apartments he lives in—down in Old Gotham, in a much more expensive building than your shitty one here in Coventry. But sometimes he spends time at the manor, too, up in Bristol and you can’t ambush him there. You couldn’t. That would be too much. Right?

Trying to find him at WE is a lost cause, too. Not just because they have three given locations throughout the city but because you wouldn’t know if he was in or not.

Or maybe you’re just looking for the easy way out.

Complicated.

Why does it have to be so complicated?

“You look tired.”

“Thank you, Red, because that’s what every girl loves to hear.”

“Just a simple observation,” he responds, leaning against the counter, eating a kolach. Your Slurpee cups sweat in the mid-June heat, creating rings of condensation on the scuffed and scratched counter. You watch a droplet slowly roll down, joining the ring of water.

Your eyelids are heavy, dragging with each blink. A dull headache reminds you of your restless sleep and you’re sure the bags under your eyes tell it to the world, too. To Red Robin, specifically.

He finishes his kolach, crumpling the wrapper in one hand, looking steadily at you all the while.

“What?”

“Is it because of what happened last week?” he asks and his voice is frightfully gentle in a way you are not emotionally prepared to deal with.

“No,” you say quickly. “It’s not that.”

The occasional nightmare bothers you but that’s normal. You can deal with that.

“Then?”

You shake your head. God, you are exhausted. You fold your arms on the counter and bury your face there.

It’s quiet for a minute.

The refrigerators hum at the back. The AC makes an odd clanging noise before it turns on. Somewhere outside, a dog barks.

“I’m a good listener,” Red hedges after a minute. “Or so I’ve been told.”

“It’s stupid,” you say, voice muffled.

“Why?”

“Because it’s, like, stupid twenty-year-old drama and not, I dunno, the latest rumors on drug trades.”

Red laughs. It’s a pleasant sound that makes something inside you unwind.

“You should be relieved to hear I am up to date on the latest rumors on drug trades. And also, believe it or not, I do like to talk about things other than crime.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

A soft chuckle. It sounds almost affectionate.

“Come on. Whatever it is, it’s making you lose sleep. That’s not good.”

“Losing some sleep isn’t the end of the world.”

“I don’t know. Feels like it might be for you.”

You grunt, an old memory from Keystone niggling at you. You set it aside for the moment.

“It’s nothing,” you say eventually. “It’s just—nothing.”

“I don’t think it’s nothing,” he remarks. “But if you don’t want to talk about it now, that’s cool, too. If you ever do—”

“Dr. Red, to the rescue.”

He laughs. “Well, I’m not a licensed therapist and I can’t promise my advice is sound, either, so…”

“Don’t sue you?”

“Like you even could. But still, I’m here.”

You want to ask why but that might be too much for you right now.

You let yourself settle with some generic explanation, that he is obligated to ask that as a vigilante, as someone who is generally supposed to be concerned with the wellbeing of the citizens of this city. And also he is trying to prove some kind of point, so this is part of that. 

“So,” you quickly say to change the topic. “What are the latest rumors on the drug trade?”

He laughs. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“You look tired.”

“Thank you, Flash, that’s exactly what I’d like to hear.”

 “Just a simple observation,” he says, holding up his hands in a placating gesture.

“Well, rest assured, I have Tim and Steph on my case about it. They’ve both demanded a video call with me tomorrow despite me telling them I am alive and well. Apparently, just saying I’m alive isn’t reassuring. Can’t imagine why. That’s more than enough in Gotham…”

Mother hens, the both of them.

And Flash, too, apparently, though he does a better job of covering it up.

Off near the coffee machine, a melodic hum of Dancing in the Dark, the song currently playing lowly overhead, reaches you. You tune into it, the sound lulling you, both because it’s pleasant and because the song makes you think of Tim and his love for Bruce Springsteen (largely in honor of his late father, Jack Drake). Because of that, you totally miss Flash’s next words.

“—here? Oh, Jesus, Piper! Stop humming. You’re distracting her.”

“Oh, sorry!” comes the apologetic and still melodic voice of the Pied Piper. More normal now, though, letting you shake your head and focus again. Piper comes around the aisle, a big cup of coffee in hand; he gives you a handsome and apologetic smile that you wave off.

“It’s fine—what were you saying, Flash?”

He wiggles his fingers at you. “I’m just curious about those two, that’s all, since they seem very worried about you, oh, practically all the time. Not that it’s unwarranted, of course.”

“I’m fine, Flash.”

He gives you a look. “I don’t believe that but seems like they got it covered so, I’ll let it go. I’m still curious about them, though. What are we talking here? Boyfriend? Girlfriend? Both boyfriend and girlfriend? That’s cool, I don’t judge.”

“Are you—what? In regards to who?”

“You, obviously.”

You shake your head quickly. “No. No, absolutely not. Tim and Steph dated when they were teens, they’re exes. That’s weird.”

A bit of an uncomfortable discussion, too, if only because you are… too aware of your own attraction to Tim. A different kind of attraction. One that has you constantly admiring him. Or had you, back when you were in Gotham. With Steph, you know she is stupidly pretty but it doesn’t fluster you.

It's… nothing.

(It has to be nothing.)

“Feelings are a natural part of life, kiddo! Nothing weird about it. Have they been weird about it?”

“We’ve never even discussed the remote possibility of me dating either of them—because that would never happen in a million years.”

“Well, if they’re friends, then it shouldn’t be a problem. You don’t get many exes who can stay friends after a breakup. Right, Pipes?”

“It’s true,” he says easily, and, hold on a fucking minute, is… is the Flash implying that he and Piper dated?

“Yes, we did,” Flash answers and oh, you said that out loud, and this is… a bit of Flash lore that you aren’t sure you ever needed to know.

But still. He continues, shooting a grin at Piper. “And we’re still great friends! Me, him, and my wife!”

“Wife?” you choke out.

Great. More lore.

Piper rolls his eyes. “Flash.”

“Okay, I didn’t mean to give that away but it’s fine, we can trust her. She’s a friend.”

The words would be sweet if you still weren’t compartmentalizing the fact that he is actually married and… apparently dated the Pied Piper at one point. The Pied Piper who used to be part of the Flash’s rogue gallery, then reformed. Huh.

“You—” you point at him for good measure “—have a wife? Someone actually married you?”

Piper bursts out laughing. It’s a pleasant sound you could get lost in… No! Focus.

Flash looks affronted. “I’ll have you know I am excellent husband material!”

Piper, still chuckling, looks at you and gives a small shrug. “It is true. The superhero community isn’t very ripe with it, for reasons I’m sure you can figure out, so, Flash is a bit of a standout in that area.”

“Because the bar is low.”

“Not true,” Flash interjects. “Superman is married. You know how hard it is to compete with Superman? It’s hard. But I manage it. We’re nearly neck-and-neck in terms of husband material, I’d say.”

He ignores Piper’s snort of laughter and leans in conspiratorially. “But you know who isn’t married? Batman. He’s not husband material. He’s not even boyfriend material.”

You look at Piper, who shrugs. “Never met the guy, thankfully, but from what I’ve heard from Flash, I have to agree. The tall, dark, and broody thing can be attractive but—”

“He’s just a sourpuss,” Flash finishes. “No sense of whimsy whatsoever.”

“Oh, and you have that?”

Piper laughs as Flash sputters. “I can have fun! Why do you think I hang around you?”

You laugh. “That’s… Alright. Fine.”

Flash cocks his head suddenly, no doubt listening to the police frequency he tunes into. Piper fishes out a twenty for everything and tells you to keep the change. In the next moment, the both of them are gone, leaving you with a sharp gust of wind and arcing blue lightning that makes your skin break out in goosebumps.

Okay, then.

Your video call is the next day—Saturday—and it goes as well as you think it will.

“You look like shit.”

Steph is more blunt about it, but the sight of Tim’s grimacing face on your laptop screen shows he very much agrees.

“Thank you, my dear friends, it is lovely to see you, too, yes, I’m doing quite well, thank you. And you?”

“Okay, fair,” Tim says, holding up a hand, “but don’t lie and saying you’re doing ‘quite well.’ Someone doing ‘quite well’ doesn’t look as exhausted as you look.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “And you wonder why you don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Or boyfriend,” Steph tacks on immediately, not one to miss an opportunity to tag him. 

He rolls his eyes. You shuffle around, freshly showered, looking around for your lotion, then remember it’s in the bathroom.

“Give me a sec,” you say to them, heading over to it.

The audio of the video call feeds out from the speakers of your laptop, so you can easily hear their next conversation.

“It’s so hard, isn’t it?” Steph asks

“What is?” comes Tim’s confused question.

“The urge to resist wiring her money. It’s written all over your face, duckie.”

“Like you don’t want to, either,” he shoots back.

A pause.

“Maybe we can—"

“I can hear you!” you call as you go back to your desk, bottle of lotion in hand. They look a tad sheepish as you settle in your chair. “And look, fine, I won’t say to a couple bucks—"

“Define a couple bucks,” Tim says.

“Max twenty—for dinner—” as soon as you say that, they’re both scrambling for their phones. You grimace. “Guys, come on, it’s not that bad.”

Tim gives you a concerned look. “Even your bags have bags.”

You blink. “Did you just… quote Spongebob?”

Steph grins in the other frame. “He’s finally cultured.”

Then they both return their focus to their phones.

A second later, yours chimes with notifications from Cashapp, twenty dollars from each of them.

“Guys… everything is fine.”

“No, it’s not,” Steph says stubbornly. “But that’s fine. You know you can rely on us, right? We’re friends. That’s what friends do. I know Timothy over here doesn’t always set the greatest examples for it—”

“Thanks, Steph.”

“You’re welcome,” she replies without missing a beat. “Anyway, let us help.”

“You’re already helping,” you soothe. “So, it’s okay. This semester is going to be tough but it’ll be worth it. And after this, it’ll be easier, okay? You guys are here now—”

“Not in a way that really matters,” Tim mutters.

“Which is not an invitation to come over here,” you warn—him, mostly. Steph would go along with it but he’d be the instigator.

They both pout.

You smile. Sometimes, it’s hard to handle the fact that you have friends like this. Friends who care so deeply, who love you so much, it feels hard to breathe. Because you know you love them just as much.

“I love you guys,” you say next, because you have to say it, they have to know; it’s hard for you, sometimes, just because it scares you, but after everything, you know how important it is for the people you love to know you love them.

They soften, echoing the words, and that’s enough for you.

Of course it is.

You don’t have much. No parents, no other family.

But you have them.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

A slow blink. “Updating Redbird’s security protocols?”

The garage of Tim’s townhouse smells sharply of oil and rubber. But he isn’t elbow-deep in the engine today, just seated off to the side, laptop perched on his lap and hooked up to its system. ‘Updating’ it. God knows why. The Redbird’s security protocols are just as stringent as the Batmobile’s.

Jason once regaled them with his plan, way back when, to blow it up. Bruce included. And how he went about it.

“It’s got safeguards like crazy, right? Even when it’s idle or shut down. Come up to it, fire a gun, launch a missile—doesn’t matter. Not gonna touch it before the security protocols kick in. It can sense you on thermal, air currents, video recognition, all of it.”

“So, how’d you get past it?”

“SEAL-grade wetsuit. Invisible to thermal with reflection fibers that play hell with video. But the biggest thing? Going slow. And I mean slow. Like five seconds per inch slow.”

The insane attention to detail and paranoia runs in the family, obviously.

Tim had sat in for that. Stephanie remembers the look on his face. Begrudging respect, combined with a familiar twitchiness that told her he was absolutely dying to run out and start updating his stuff.

Question everything. That’s what Bruce says.

Tim tries to separate himself from it. He really does. It gets tiring, exhausting, to live like that. But old habits die hard and his big brain precedes him sometimes. Wondering at the possibilities, at the million-in-one scenarios.

Ordinarily, Stephanie has more sympathy for him. Really. But right now, after your phone call about his little visit to Circle K…

She’s pissed.

“Don’t play dumb,” she says, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

“What is it that I’m playing dumb about?” he asks, averting his attention back to his laptop, keys clacking quickly, pausing momentarily as he takes a swig of Red Bull.

She tells him.

At the sound of your name, he stops.

But now that she’s started, she can’t stop. “Visiting her? As Red Robin? What are you thinking, Tim?”

The clack of keys resumes. The set of his gaze on the laptop screen is very intentional now. Avoiding her.

“It’s nothing, Steph,” he says and she almost believes it. But she knows him, so she doesn’t. “It’s harmless.”

“So, why won’t you hang out with us? Her? Because I assume you’re also avoiding her individually.”

A little sigh. Impatient. “I’m not avoiding her. I really was busy. Have been busy. You know how the heat messes with the city.”

It’s the excuse that bothers Stephanie.

Tim is making some kind of choice here. Choosing to favor Red Robin over himself, over Tim Drake, and it makes no sense. Red Robin isn’t your best friend. He isn’t even your favorite vigilante. (Black Canary is. She agrees, though it would be nice for Spoiler to get some spotlight but that is neither here nor there.)

You know who is your best friend? (One of them, anyway.)

Tim freakin’ Drake.

Stephanie knows why he’s avoiding you all of a sudden. The connection will be too easy to make. It’s why she—as Spoiler—keeps her distance. Tucks away her hair, hides her face even more, when she and Cass visit Circle K.

Even though! They had talked about telling you. Stephanie wanted to tell you so badly. You know who her father is. Was. You know how her mom used to be like. You know everything and you never once judged. You were, to be sure, a bit wary of them—the vigilantes—but most were. You wouldn’t turn them away if you knew.

If there is anything Stephanie knows, it is that.

But then she went away to Metropolis for a week and a half and suddenly, he’s visiting you as Red Robin. And he’s not trying to ease you into it, not trying to help you latch onto some clues, to make it easier—because they’d discussed that, too!—he’s doing it because… Well, she doesn’t really know. But there is a reason. She knows that much. A big reason.

It makes no sense to her, considering his feelings. Complicates things unnecessarily. Especially with how he’s avoiding you because of it, because he apparently got cold feet on telling you the truth.

And it’s the excuse… it’s the excuse that pisses her off.

Their relationship, back when they were kids, had some questionable origins. It did. Stephanie did things she wasn’t proud of. He did things he wasn’t proud of. It was messy. She tries not to kick herself about it—about being a silly girl in love, awed at the attention of a boy like Robin, knowing he was dating a girl (Ariana Dzerchenko, her name was, she would later find) and making moves on him despite that, moves that he always, always went along with. Like two magnets that couldn’t help but fall together.

Don’t get her wrong! The blame is not solely on her. It’s on him, too. She shouldn’t have pushed. He shouldn’t have went along with it, knowing he had a girlfriend, too. He shouldn’t have held his knowledge of her identity over her head the way he did. He isn’t mean-spirited at heart but he had an advantage over her. He knew she was Stephanie Brown. She knew him only as Robin and nothing else. Not until later on that would change and that… that was another mess entirely.

But they were dumb and young. Stephanie tries not to hold it against herself. They know better now. She knows better now. Knows what she deserves.

But this feels too close to him crossing that line.

No, he has crossed that line.

Given one persona up for another.

Approaching you as Red Robin, while you know nothing of him, and doing god knows what…

Someone is going to get hurt.

Last time, it was him. The circumstances, Bruce’s unceremonious reveal of his identity to her—a mistake, an egregious overstep—it all culminated in Tim feeling betrayed. Betrayed that Bruce would reveal that to her without Tim’s say so, without even asking him if he was okay with her knowing. Betrayed that Stephanie went along with it.

This time?

Stephanie feels it in her bones.

The person who is going to get hurt is you.

You, clueless about these lives they lead, clueless as Tim monopolizes your time as Red Robin, all the while you have no idea it’s him. You, her best friend. Stephanie loves you to the end of the universe.

She doesn’t want to see you hurt.

The mere thought of it, of the potential fallout, leaves a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Steph. Steph, it’s fine.”

She blinks, coming back to herself. Tim is standing in front of her now, dark brows knitted together, blue eyes intent on her face. Concerned.

“You’re lying to her.”

“We’ve been lying to her.”

“Not like this,” she says quietly. “Not this way. You’re… This is too much, Tim. I don’t understand why you’re doing this. What happened?”

“Nothing,” he says. For what it’s worth, to anyone else, it sounds believable. But like she said. Stephanie knows him. For better or for worse.

And on that end, she also knows he is not going to budge. No matter how much Stephanie wants to drill this into him, grab him by the shoulders and make her point. Once he’s made a decision, he commits.

Or more like he’s dug himself into this grave and he doesn’t (can’t?) want to get out.

“This is a mistake,” she says. “And you know it. I just hope you actually try to fix it sooner rather than later. Because if you break her heart, I’m going to break something of yours.”

Stephanie loves Tim. He’s a great friend. They’ve had their ups and downs—even discounting their relationship—but they’re solid. They are.

But she loves you, too. So much so it sometimes feels like she’s going to burst with it. She’s never had something like that, like this, and in the end, she doesn’t want to choose, but Tim knows better. And because he knows better, you are her first priority.

Even worse, he doesn’t seem bothered by the threat. Relieved, if anything.

“I’m counting on it, Steph.”

Which is so unfair in so many ways (fix it, she wants to yell, don’t rely on me to come clean up when shit hits the fan—do it yourself!) but she’s had enough of this conversation and all the ways this can go wrong.

Maybe he will turn around. Maybe. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

But she doesn’t think so. He won’t. Not until the consequences of this, of his lies, of his excuses, come hit him in the face.

She wishes it weren’t like that—knowing what it will result in.

But some things you just can’t change.

She knows better with Tim.

She really, really does.

reblogs are appreciated!

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[days-until-burnout]

hiii sorry for bothering buttt may i request maybe scar/joel arcade au where joel wins everything for scar :333

i rlly2 like ur writings theyre all so good !!

so... FIRST OF. YOU ARE NO BOTHER. YOU DONT BOTHER ME OR ANYONE EVER. YA HEAR ME?! YOU'RE FAR FROM BOTHERING. THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST. and now, well. the original idea had more games but i got too into feelings. and... yeah. got a little angsty compared to what you asked for but that's writing for ya. hope you enjoy regardless also, thank you! i do try to write good-ish stuff despite the limited time and planning so im happy to hear you like it<3!

_____

📧 Day 22 -

Characters - Scar/Joel Words - 1,970 Time - 60 mins Content - Modern (HS/College) AU | hurt/comfort

Normally, Joel wouldn’t care about his surroundings, it was better to focus on his own thing and blend in. For as loud and imposing as he was, he rarely stuck his nose in other people’s business. But currently, the noise was getting in the way of his concentration, another missed shot. He grabbed another basketball, looked behind him to find the source of his distraction. A group of teens, all surrounding someone. He shouldn’t involve himself, way too many to handle on his own, but if he didn’t, who would stick up for whoever was at the center?

He looked around for an employee, until his attention was drawn back to the group. A panicked peace offering. Very panicked. 

“Hey, hey, hey, can’t we all get along? No need to get handsy!”

Joel frowned. The response made his skin itch. Vile words. Before he knew it, the ‘leader’ was stumbling forward, the basketball bouncing away as he approached them. Familiar faces, all of them, from the same school. His eyes flickered to the person in the center, finding Scar looking up at him with undecided fear or relief. He looked back to the ‘leader’, unamused. 

“Pick on someone your own size,” he gloated, keeping a neutral expression to their glare. He looked up when they stepped closer, anger in their eyes, a fist quick on his shirt. He glanced between his scrunched up shirt and them, giving them an out, “I dare you, tough guy.”

They glared, then shoved him back, but he planted himself firmly, barely moving. The group began to move away, going around him to not get in his way. 

He watched them all leave the arcade before turning back to Scar, who finally settled on relief. Just as Scar opened his mouth to say something, thank him probably, he walked off to find the basketball he threw, prompting walking it back to the game that had ended. With newfound peace, he threw the ball and scored though there were no points given. Scar caught up then, rolling just behind him, so he couldn’t walk away. Well, he could, but he might as well hear him out. 

“Uh– Joel, right? Thank you. You didn’t have to, I’m sorry you lost your game beca—”

“Do they pick on you?” he asked instead, not wanting to hear gratitude or apologies. After all, it wasn’t Scar’s fault, though he found it hard to let him know. 

Scar looked away then, facade breaking as he stuttered some excuses, rubbing the back of his neck and clearly lying. “I, well, no– I mean, they don’t pick on me. It’s just fun! Between friends, you know, right? Just some fun between friends, teasing and messing with each other. It’s a-okay!” Scar raised his hands and did some jazz movement, a forced smile plastered on his lips. He looked tired, which was something. Joel pinned it in the back of his mind, for later, if he still felt like dealing with all this. “And it was my fault, anyways. I wasn’t looking where I was going and I must’ve hit them with my chair accidentally. It’s all alright, trust me! I– Yeah, I can handle myself. It was all fun.”

Joel didn’t believe him. But he didn’t try to pry more either. It was whatever. 

He glanced over at another game, then back at Scar who seemed to have turmoil in his face. “You want to play?”

Scar looked up with wide eyes, almost sparkling but they quickly died, a sad smile replacing the excited o of his lips. “Oh, nonono, I couldn’t bother you with that! I was just here to watch for a bit. I have other things to do, places to be! I’m a busy person, very busy! My—”

“On a Saturday morning?”

“I, well– You never know with these things, Joel! People are busy and—”

“You owe me.”

Scar’s eyes went wide again, and Joel figured he could bully Scar into playing some games, which sounded sadistic but it was whatever. He didn’t have anywhere to be, and it was hard to ignore the guy in the wheelchair watching everyone else having fun in the arcade. His eyes flickered away as he fished out his arcade card, extending it to Scar, who looked between the piece of plastic and him. 

“Five dollars. And don’t keep me waiting.”

Hesitantly, Scar took the card and pushed himself to the counter, Joel following behind. The exchange was quick, with Scar soon turning around and extending the card. Just as he began to thank him again, Joel walked away, Scar spluttering as he followed clumsily, careful to not hit others or the machinery. Joel stopped at a water-shooting game, pointing at it as he looked at him with an expressionless face. 

“I want to play this one.”

Scar blinked seven times, opening and closing his mouth as he looked between him and the machine, timidly getting closer to tap the card on the reader. “Uh, there…”

“I wanted this one.” Joel stood on the other water-gun, and Scar reached over to tap the card. “Well, don’t waste the credit.”

“Right…” Scar placed the card on the little table, got his chair as close as he could to the seats and lifted himself on it. His hands trembled on the handles of the water-guns, staring intently at the flashing buttons in front of him before a hand reached over from his peripheral, pressing the start button. 

Joel selected the level and they began, shooting zombies in waves. It was tense, Scar constantly glancing over at Joel, who eventually caught on and stared right back, almost daring him to try again. Scar didn’t, focusing on the zombies and trying to not make a bigger fool of himself. They raked up points together, until Scar died leaving him to watch Joel’s precision aim and almost calculated movements, the quick decisions and quick thinking before dying too, which Scar noticed as Joel throwing. 

“Well… Uh, that was fun! Thank y–”

Joel got up and looked around the arcade, finding empty machines and pointing at one. “I want to play that one now.”

Joel didn’t walk away this time, and Scar wanted to give him the card, but he lifted himself back to his chair and followed over. Joel didn’t stray far. Never close enough for Scar to slip the card into the pocket of his hoodie, but still close enough that people moved out of the way. Scar felt sick, but he didn’t know if it was from the shame of Joel’s pity or… or maybe sick from happiness? If that was an option. Regardless, they arrived at another game, an aim game with clowns as their targets. 

“You… um, do you want to play together?” Scar asked, looking up at Joel who looked away from the clowns and shrugged. His heart picked up as he tapped the card on one reader, putting it down, and only exhaling when Joel stood by his side instead of going to the other machine. 

Joel showed him up at every game. And the eventual teasing began, smirks and innocent eyes. Scar found it hard to be hurt or mad or sad, found it harder and harder game after game, always aware that they spent more than the five dollars he put in. In another situation, he would’ve watched others play with a quiet jealousy, but today, he didn’t mind watching Joel killing it in games he couldn’t take part in. 

“You look good,” he blurted out randomly, mind away from how late it probably was. It was hard to tell how long they’ve spent in the arcade, much longer to tell when Joel refused to stop pointing at games and now pouting to go. 

Joel looked back over his shoulder, giving him a smirk that was more than that teasing one, not like the ones he gave him when he missed a clear shot or when he ended hundreds of points ahead, but it was a different kind of teasing. 

“On a bike, I mean. Suits you, Bad Boy and all that,” he said quickly, waving his hand about as Joel continued to drive without looking at the screen for long. It was unfair how easy Joel made all the games look, and it was even more unfair how good Joel looked while crushing said games. “You should get one.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Scar tried not to. He tried to focus on his own steering wheel with Joel beside him, he tried to not think about it on the roller coaster simulator while their shoulders pressed against each other, and he tried to not think about it as they reached the price counter. He finally stopped thinking about it when his phone rang, and he picked to hear his mom ask where he’d been without answering her for hours now. He told the truth, promised he’d be on their pick-up spot right away. 

The day was ending already? 

He didn’t want it to. 

“You want something?” Joel asked nonchalantly, prompting Scar to look up at him, staring at his profile for a moment. The lights just on the edge of his face, the rest in shadows before he turned to him, now half-half of lights and shadows. He looked at the prices, so far away and the corridor too narrow to enter. He shook his head, and Joel looked back. 

“We didn’t get enough tickets for it, anyways,” he said a chuckle, and Joel looked at him again. “And! And even if we did, five dollars don’t cover even a quarter of the tickets needed!”

“What is it?”

Scar blinked. Joel was back to earlier, all that warmth and giggles replaced with… with something. Serious? Not mean, but firm. He looked away sheepishly, “There’s that… uh, Star Wars model? But! I don’t really want it. Nope. I’d rather have a plushie or—”

“I’m getting it.”

“Wai—”

Scar didn’t chase, the path was too narrow. But he could leave. He could leave while Joel flagged an employee, he could leave while Joel made the transaction, and he could absolutely leave while Joel walked over, the model in his arm. He could. 

“Here. Hold this for me. My arms are tired.” Joel held the box between them, could very easily drop it in Scar’s lap and walk away. But he didn’t, just like how Scar didn’t leave when he could. He stood, planted in place, giving Scar the chance to reject it. Scar didn’t. “So what now? Are you leaving?”

“Uh, yeah. My mom– She will pick me up soon. Do… Um, do you need a ride home?”

Joel shook his head, ran a hand through his hair as they walked out of the arcade, headed to the lift, “Getting picked up too. Just waiting for my brother to finish work.”

Scar nodded, rolling into the lift, “So…”

“Do you come often?”

“Often? No– No, no, I don—”

“I’ve seen you around often,” Joel said as he pressed the ground floor. Joel didn’t look at him, and Scar looked at the box in his lap. “You don’t usually stay that long though. What was different today? Was it them?”

“I… No… No, I just… I was on my way to the counter to get a card…”

The wait wasn’t long. The lot was bustling with people coming in and out of the mall, everyone too busy with themselves. Before the door could open, Joel dropped the card on top of the box and took a step back. 

“Well, I’ll see you at school, I guess.” Joel glanced at his phone, turning to walk back into the mall. “Oh, and I’ll see you here next Saturday too, I guess. Bye.”

The doors closed before Scar could respond. He looked forward to it though. 

_____

is scarjoel not their ship name why dont they have posts what is up with you tumblr 🧍‍♂️ slashjay. anyhow. i... i really thought theyd be more popular but i guess not. someone should change that (i say, looking in the mirror) also. i was thinking about it, and i should probably tag the fics by universe 🤔 like: hc, life, modern, fantasy etc etc. which i will do tomorrow when i get sad for not doing much to trick my brain into thinking i was productive 👌

[magnifythesun]

CCO Anthony Padilla and President Ian Hecox of Smosh

ooooooo let's goooo!

post writing notes: YAY OKAY IVE DONE IT!!! so i read this and immediately assumed you meant a business au and i for the life of me have not been able to think of what kind of business they would run in this fic SO it is "the company" and they make money and also have shareholders and they call their employees their "crew" and dont ask me any details i was unable to figure it out!! but i think this turned out pretty cute?? more angsty than i was anticipating but with comfort i promise.

also i stayed g rated since i wasn't sure what rating you were comfortable with but Company(TM) President Ian and CCO Anthony could get it on i think if anyone wants that in the future lmao, just don't expect any details on what the hell they're selling sorry lmao! also i know nothing about business

bonus points if you can spot the direct reference to the wikipedia article for the term CCO.

---

The responsibility of being in charge of the company weighed heavily on Ian. It had been at its worst when Anthony had left, the fear of driving the company into the ground, of not being a good enough leader, of failing to thrive without his right-hand man.

When Anthony had returned, it was like a breath of the freshest air. Although Ian maintained his position as President, Anthony taking the role of CCO was possibly the best business decision Ian had ever made. Anthony had always been best with the marketing and business strategy, with an eye for the best trends to get their company booming. A huge weight felt like it was moved off Ian's shoulders. He could just focus on the top-level stuff and taking care of his employees and leave the marketing, which Ian had always hated, to Anthony.

Still, this didn't mean Ian didn't get stressed anymore. Ian loved his work, but sometimes it became overwhelming, the way his mind spun around, worrying about the whether he'd assigned the right person to the right project, whether his employees were happy, and so forth. Over the course of each work week, the panic would build up inside, setting him on edge until he would lie awake at night, staring up at his bedroom ceiling as his mind flew.

Reprieve came from an unexpected corner.

There was a routine now. At the end of the work week, there was always a meeting, and he and Anthony would attend. Ian would mostly listen, too stressed and sleep-deprived to think of any meaning contribution. Plus, Anthony was better at leading the meeting anyway, as it was mostly about that week's sales. Afterward, Anthony would talk him down from all his worries, and Ian would be able to breathe until the next week began. This week was no different.

At the end of the meeting, everyone filed out, excited to book it home for the weekend, leaving Ian and Anthony alone in the big meeting room. Ian let out a sigh, his shoulders sagging, letting the last shards of his confident facade crumble and fall. Anthony glanced over at him as he shuffled his papers back into order.

"You alright?" He asked this every week.

"You know me," Ian waved a hand dismissively, "I get in my head."

"You're too hard on yourself, man," Anthony tapped the papers on the desk with finality. "Didn't you hear anything I said just now? Our sales are up, stockholders happy, and we even get to give a big bonus to the whole 'crew,' just like you always talk about doing."

Ian shook his head like he could knock the words away, standing up to face the big window that was letting in the light of the late afternoon sun.

"This year is going great, Ian! Why won't you let yourself celebrate this success that we've built?"

Anthony sounded tired. Ian couldn't blame him. They'd had this conversation every week for the last six months. However, this time, Anthony's words just couldn't shake the dread inside him.

This year, things were going great. But it wasn't that long ago when it had been the whole company on Ian's shoulders, margins in the red, the heavy weight of responsibility for all of his people's livelihoods crushing him into the ground. What's to say this year's success wouldn't be short-lived? Was there already something he wasn't seeing, some sign of trouble to come?

And what if, when things got rough... What if Anthony...

A gentle warm grip on his wrist startled him out of his thoughts. Ian turned, surprised. They'd had this conversation a million times, but Anthony always talked him out of it, sitting over at the table while Ian paced out his anxieties. He'd never come to join him by the window, and certainly had never—

Anthony tugged him slightly so that they were facing each other directly, the sunlight filtering through Anthony's hair so that the light brown highlights he'd gotten sparkled. Ian, for a blessed moment, couldn't think of anything else at all. Then, Anthony's hands took his own.

"I," Anthony started, not seeming sure of himself, "I get this feeling. Every week, I reassure you about the company. About how we're doing. About how our 'crew' seems really happy about where we're at, how we're seeing success at levels we could barely dream of back when we first started this." Anthony paused, his face filled with such genuine worry that Ian felt the hot sting of guilt roil in his stomach. "But, Ian, telling you all that doesn't seem to help you for very long."

Ian sighed, looking off to the side. "I'm sorry, I don't know-"

"I think I do," Anthony cut him off, reaching up to grab his shoulders instead. "Ian, I don't even know if I can say this in a way that will fully convince you, but I—," He pushed through with growing confidence, "I'm not leaving this company again."

How did this man always see right through him?

"I'm not leaving you again," Anthony said, quieter, and Ian couldn't stop the tears that were coming to his eyes. "Ever. Do you understand?"

Ian reached up and swiped the tears away. "Yeah," He said, shakily.

"I'm not leaving." Anthony shook him slightly, the look in his eyes so serious that it began to chip away at the pit in Ian's stomach that had sat there for years.

"Right. Yeah," Ian nodded his head.

"I'm not. We're gonna be running this thing for years," Anthony smiled, "Into the ground if necessary."

Ian laughed, "Okay, okay. I believe you." And he actually did. Another, heavier weight that he hadn't realized he was still carrying felt like it was melting away. "Alright, good."

They stood there just a little too long, Anthony's hands warm on Ian's shoulders, the sun bringing out each delicate shade of brown in Anthony's eyes. And again, for a moment, Ian couldn't think about anything else.

"Right, so." Anthony let go and walked back over to the table. Ian took in a slow, deep breath and let it out as Anthony grabbed his papers and shoved them in his briefcase. "I don't know if you even realized with your President head so far above the clouds, but we just wrapped a fiscal year!"

Ian rolled his eyes. "Of course I know that."

"Just checking!" Anthony beamed at him. "So, wanna celebrate? How about soup at your place?"

That startled a sharp laugh out of Ian. "That's the biggest celebration you can think of?"

"Look," Anthony held up a haughty finger. "As your CCO, I think making soup tonight will allow us to achieve our long-term objectives."

Ian scoffed. "Yeah, your long-term objective to have me cook you soup," Ian said dryly, grabbing his own briefcase and heading toward the door.

"No, hey, hear me out!" Anthony followed him out. "I've got a whole pitch for it and everything!"

[tanya-shiza]

Tired Gold busts (2/2) // LMK Medicinal Flower AU

Part 1: [LINK]

Yay 🎉 I was finally able to draw Wei Jian and he doesn't look ugly... It's a pity it's not full-length, but I wanted to draw something like a bust 😃☺️

About Wei Jian:

Wei Jian is an office plankton, but he is happy with it. He loves his job, despite the fact that the boss is very strict and changes workers like gloves.

Wei Jian's boss is the richest man in China. (Yes, that's Reng Zhang Ji from my Coin AU. I originally created Reng Zhang Ji for this au, but he fits better in Coin AU. In Coin AU, Reng Zhang Ji also mentions Wei Jian as the kindest person he's ever met 😉 In Coin AU, the Mystic Mayor became Shi Cheng. Shi Cheng and Wei Jian never met.)

Wei Jian was employee of the month 3 times (which is almost impossible) and accordingly his photo was hung on the wall of honor.

Wei Jian is friends with the guard at the entrance to the office building named Yu Cu. He is a bit emotionless and rather grumpy. Employees often encounter his stubbornness. However, Wei Jian has been working for quite a long time and during this time Yu Cu fell for his kindess.

Sometimes the guard even does a little help and marks Wei Jian as «here» if he is suddenly late in order to avoid him being fired for being late often. If managers find out about this, they both are fined, of course. But Yu Cu forgives Wei Jian for this.

Wei Jian is not a fan of sports, much less, beer, but Yu Cu is. Sometimes, for help with delays, the guard asks Wei Jian to go to the bar with him to watch football together. (It was in this bar that Wei Jian first noticed Shi Tiao, who had a bad habit of getting drunk after work.)

Wei Jian is earns above average, which is suprised Shi Tiao because he the one who earns more, but Wei Jian's apartment, car and clothes create the illusion that the opposite is true.

Wei Jian is a great cook and often watches cooking shows, but unlike the Demon Bull King and Pigsy, he is not a fan of Chang'e or her baking. There is a character in Nexo Knights called Gobbleton Rumble, who is a reference to a real person. Wei Jian would be a fan of him.

You might be wondering, since Wei Jian is so perfect, why doesn't he have a wife yet? He's already 36 years old! The thing is that Wei Jian is kinda cursed, but no one knows about it. Wei Jian was born under a star that destroys any chances of finding a female companion. Wei Jian tries hard, but all relationships end before they last even 2 months. His record is 3 months and 4 days.

However, the star did not say anything about male companion 😏😉 But Wei Jian never even thought that he can choose males as a partner.

Due to numerous failures in dates, Wei Jian became very worried about it. He is disappointed in himself and thinks that he is bad at relationships, although in fact it is the opposite.

Shi Tiao and Wei Jian's relationship wasn't official for a long time. They just acted like a couple, but never called each other boyfriend.

Wei Jian is very afraid that his relationship with Shi Tiao will end up like all the others. This is his deep unconscious fear, which only will be find out when Hua Kan mentions that their friendship is more like a romantic relationship.

Wei Jian was born into a "female family". That's means, he has only Grandma and Mom, who love him very much. Especially Grandma. This is important because Wei Jian didn't have a "masculine" figure, so he took his mother's lead, which led to how gentle, kind and caring he became.

Wei Jian is under intense pressure from his grandma and mother towards a wife and children. They are very concerned that their only son has achieved everything except the favor of a woman.

The numerous mentions of women make Wei Jian wary. He worries that his grandma nad mother might not accept Shi Tiao because he is a man.

⚠️Triggers will be mentioned below! Be careful!⚠️

Suicide

Premature babies

Postpartum depression / Regular depression

Wei Jian was born about 2 months earlier than he should have been. He was premature. This affected his body, of course. He was born very skinny, weak, and his eyesight was poor. He has been wearing glasses since he was a baby. None of his family wore glasses before old age.

One nice day, when nothing foreshadowed trouble Wei Jian's mother returned home and find her husband hanged himself in the living room. Such a horrific shock immediately caused labor. The mother gave birth with difficulty.

The loss of the beloved husband, who never said that anything was worring him, hit the woman hard. She fell into depression and completely forgot about her newborn son, who needed a lot of attention given his premature birth.

In order for Wei Jian's young bones to grow properly, his mother often gave him massages that doctors taught her. At such moments, she felt love and care for her son, unfortunately, this was not enough to forget about the grief.

Then the grandma took care of Wei Jian's needs. Seeing how the boy grows incredibly skinny and often undernourished due to the mother's distance, the grandma moves in to live with them in order to support both: her daughter and grandson.

Grandma didn't mean to, but she accidentally overfed her grandson, and Wei Jian was quite chubby for several years in his teen age (high school). This was especially bad because his bones weren't as strong as he'd like. After entering university and receiving a doctor's note, Wei Jian immediately set about getting himself in shape. Even to this day, Wei Jian takes care of his health. He helps Shi Tiao take care of his health and eat right. It was Wei Jian who helped Shi Tiao break his habit of drinking after a hard day at the bar.

Because the massages brought Wei Jian's mother peace and relief, she continued to do it even when it was no longer needed. One day, she even taught Wei Jian some of the techniques. Wei Jian sometimes uses them because Shi Tiao often complains of joint pain.

[chaifootsteps]

"Under a pay per second system, the more an animator produces the more money they make. It's rather elegant as it rewards more skilled animators with better compensation and motivates them to work harder thus ensuring production moves at a steady pace. A salary system doesn't have that advantage. Regardless of output, everyone would be paid relatively the same which means there's less incentive to go above and beyond and instead do the bare minimum in terms of efficiency." [emphasis mine]

it's kind of disturbing to see someone make this argument. they're essentially admitting that they think animators do not deserve equal pay or a steady salary. Instead they need the fear of God about earning a living wage being put into them so that they will crunch - or rather, 'go above and beyond', there's a classic capitalist euphemism if ever I saw one - in order to put out as much as possible. (also it ignores that not all shots are the same - more complex shots take more time, but I don't see them suggesting more complex shots should be paid more per second completed?)

Does it not occur to these types that having a steady pay rate produces less stressed workers? And less stressed workers can be relied upon to (in their words) go above and beyond anyway, maybe because people also like fulfillment in their jobs?? That there's no reason to believe they'll do 'the bare minimum' because the employment process exists for the purposes of finding animators who will put their heart into their work?

Back on the pilot someone made a whole video about how they added in a little joke about Freckle being tired after dragging the coffin, because they trusted the studio to reward them for adding a little flavor to their shot: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v5ZDGNRDZN4

Do these people making 'animators need the whip cracking and only care about money' type arguments not realize that a lot of people actually care about their work, and a job well done? And having stable pay actually helps them do more of it, not less? And there are studies showing this exact phenomena across other disciplines??

Sorry to get heated, it just baffles me seeing this kind of pro-crunch pro-capitalist nonsense being peddled. Maybe they're young, maybe they're acting in bad faith. But anyone else who sees this kind of post should know that Lackadaisy fighting to make better standards for animators in indie studios is what we should expect everywhere, including production studios who already have the budget to do better. But it's so noticeable they're trying to staple onto Lackadaisy the attitude that, according to employees, ruined the indie atmosphere at Spindle - the underlying assumption and attitude of that post is that the art and end product matter more than the people

And that needs to change

No, no apologies for getting heated, that one gave me a bumper crop of the creeps. It's the kind of thing you'd expect to hear from a 19th century coal baron, or the manager of an Amazon fulfillment warehouse.

Kudos to Lackadaisy for being the change they want to see in the world.