#Someone that close to him would put them in danger

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

CAN WE HAVE DOEY BEING A PLATONIC YANDERE TO THE PLAYER?? I WONDER HOW HE WOULD ACT GIVEN HIS CONFLICTING PERSONALITIES AND EMOTIONS DUE TO BEING MADE OUT OF THREE KIDS

Yes, you absolutely can! This ended up being way longer than I first planed and I'm actually pretty proud of it :)

Platonic yandere Doey & Reader

★ When Doey first meets the Player, he is intrigued. It's not every day you meet someone who keeps cheating the grim reaper. As Doey spends more time with the Player, he realizes that they are different than most employes. You are nice and treat him kindly.

★ His conflicting personalities create a strange mix of curiosity and adoration inside of him. Especially after you stay to help the Safe Haven instead of working with Poppy. Plus, the Player has been through so much already. They really should really take a break.

★ He goes above and beyond to make them feel comfortable and secure in their new home. He introduces them to the other toys, making sure they feel included and part of their little community. Tries to help them relax after what they have been through, also.

★Doey becomes emotionally dependent on the Player, deriving a sense of purpose and stability from their presence. The thought of losing the Player or not being able to protect them fills him with fear and anxiety, fueling his yandere tendencies.

★ All three parts of him agree on one thing, protect the Player at all costs. That means not letting them leave the Safe Haven. At least not without him. It comes from a place of genuine care, having concern for the Player's well-being.

★ He prioritizes their needs, ensuring the Player feels safe and loved. If the player were to reciprocate his care by doing things to make him feel valued, it would mean the world to him. If it's not too much, could he pretty please hold your hand? (please say yes)

★ The player's consistent care builds trust between them. That trust is very important. Never break it or you might regret it. Doey is still unstable at times, and he could still lash out at you if the wrong button is pushed.

★ Yandere Doey is very possessive, he is aware of this and tries his best not to be. He really wants to give the Player the freedom they deserve but at the same time he fears losing you to others and may become anxious if you spend too much time with another toy.

★ Those thoughts are silly, he knows it, you would never abandon him for a new friend. However, that nagging voice in his head tells him differently. It may end up with him subtly manipulating the Player. It was for friendship though so it's okay!

★ He might use guilt or even fear to keep the Player close, making them feel responsible for his emotional well-being. The thought of the Player getting hurt when he's gone fills him with all sorts of bad feelings. Ones he doesn't even want to think about.

★ By this time it's too late to go back. He is too afraid of being abandoned, if you suggest going off to finish what you started and killing the prototype he would have a panic attack.

★ His conflicting personalities are unified in their fear of the Player facing danger and he becomes visibly distressed. It's too dangerous! If you leave and never come back, what will he do? Doey may even go as far as physically putting himself between the Player and the exit if it comes down to it.

[sylus-doll]

Synopsis: Sylus has always lived a lonely life, unfamiliar with pleasant company. Being with you again is something he must get used to. He's learning how to, and so are you.

Warnings: Lowkey doesn't make sense because the author is exhausted but wanted to churn something out for you guys. Also mentions of blood. Might be a little angsty.

Author's note: I've gotten busy recently, so I won't be able to write as often. Sorry! I come bearing lowkey dependant Sylus. Comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

Throughout his life, Sylus has spent all his time alone. No one would count enemies as company, even if they do trail him and keep an eye on his every move. They were the ones who wanted to see him fall off his throne; cause and spectate his suffering. A walking target. Sure, he had Mephisto and the twins he took under his wing... But could a mechanical bird count as a friend? Or a pair of twins who work directly under him, following his commands? No, that is obedience.

Sylus did not have anyone to call his own. No one to trade secrets with or share his warmth. And in turn it has made him cold, self-reliant, for he cannot trust in another person. He had never learned how. But he takes comfort in the teachings he does know— the ones of his only love. Melodies dance in the air, a comforting tune. He attempts to hum along, taking pride in the fact that he is able to unlike the past. A respite he is allowed to have in this harsh world.

When the both of you are reunited— albeit, unknowingly on your part— Sylus is at a loss. He had thought that you, too, would remember the past just as he did. Yet you stare into his eyes with the guarded malice of a stranger. It is a gaze he should be used to by now. And he is... Just not from you. Where has his beloved's familiar softness gone? Only your fierce claws and teeth remain. Sylus does not know how to fix this. He was never taught to build relationships or tenderly lower defenses with the patience of a saint.

Your relationship is rocky at first; like oil and water. Both of your lives are completely different from the other. With the Hunter Association actively hunting down Sylus, whatever you have with him is illegal. Forbidden. Although... Surely they would not mind if you stuck around? Gathering intel for them could be useful in the future. This is fine, you are simply using him, you are not delusional. Humans have always desired for what they cannot have.

“You're sticking around for intel on Onychinus? Well then, be my guest. Don't be shy when using me.” Sylus's sardonic smile is etched into your mind.

He tells no one that being of use to you is the only way he knows how to keep you close to him.

Be disgusted, you will yourself. Be repulsed, resent him for all he has done and will do. You will only come to regret being so entangled with his life. This is insane and you are supposed to be a good, law-abiding citizen of Linkon. A hunter. Yet you cannot help feeling like prey— engulfed by a predator who kills and comes back to you with blood soaked hands. Most times, even his own. How will you ever learn to hate someone who learned to be vulnerable with you?

Over time, you start to notice that Sylus is quite... lonely. You are the only one who checks up on him, through text or call. The only one who visits, who teases and jokes, who surprises. You, you, you. Comfortable and happy with someone so dangerous. So of course he eventually craves your presence in your absence. Sylus will make up whatever excuse, put himself in any situation, just to be able to spend some time with you. When it ends, he is distraught.

“You're abandoning me when I'm no longer useful to you? Your skill in being heartless is assuring.” His tone is teasing, as always. But his eyes hold a far-off melancholy.

It feels as though your heart has been punctured with shattered pieces of a fragile thing.

“Abandon? You're sorely mistaken. Useful or not, you're stuck with me, you have no other choice.” You reach out, grabbing his hand.

Something new for Sylus to learn; that you will not throw him away when he does not serve any purpose to you. You are his companion— his beloved who cares for and loves him. Not because you owe him or as an obligation. Simply because you do. And you are both still learning. It will be okay. Having each other means neither of you will ever have to face the cruelties of this world alone.

[loneworldgazer]

"his mutt."

pairing: Harley Sawyer X toy!reader

cont: You, his assistant gave up your parts oh so willingly to him. Why are you surprised that you've been turned into a toy, did you think you were special?

a/n: this was crazy, I'll dissappear again for a year trust!!! Seriously tho, writing is fun but my lifestyle is so busy now brahhhh. Edit: closing my eyes as I post this cause I'm not sure if I went on a tangent writing all of this or it's actually good AHHHHH

tags: reader IS AN ADULT, nsfw, groping, degradation, sadism, delusion, fingering, no sex (unfortunately), no specific gentilia mentioned guys, first time writing slight smut??? Idk man Harley is not a good man obviiii, I also want to make it clear that THIS IS NOT BEASTILITY

๑ ~⁠♪

"L/N, would you give yourself up in the name of science?"

That snapped you out your daze from the whirring of the water faucet sanitizing the bloody scalpels. The blood turn to clouds and made your eye twitch back to Harley who had his hand on a VHS tape ready to record another log. That prompted you to reply quickly.

You straightened up, wanting to give a lengthy answer that would somehow impress the Doctor or at best, make him bat an eyelash at you. Experimenting was the reason why you decided to be a scientist, Playtime Co. was where it was home for a job like yours. Going into the unknown required some unethicality and pushing past morals, too much of it is too far that you don't even notice. In the long run, you had smeared blood that wasn't yours all over yourself without realising. Research was the hook, the line were your meticulous gloved hands on a body and the sinker was the Doctor acknowledging the labour that you do.

This place was a house that echoes off with tormented residents and you're simply one of the owners that bang at the walls so they can keep quiet, the smudged handprints had been painted over with a new coat. In this place where you sit at your appointed seat in the family couch, your eyes look around for him.

Would it be plain dreadful to admit that the praise one man could give had you licking and cleaning up the dirt of his sins until he told you it was enough? It was not said but his precense was a mantra that you obedientally chant.

He was a needy man, quite funny to describe someone assertive as him but he depended on you. Or should you be careful with a mind as dangerous as his; an intelligence that leaves you choked up for air. It's bad to dream that he treats you differently but his eyes would linger more on you before he tells you to pass the data.

The voices of everybody you talked to had been a blurry memory ever since you were holed up in this cold, pristine hell of machines and sanitizers. The exhaustion of pushing out the next new toy was the thrill you enjoyed from work, pain and anguish from failure that was simply a query to overtake. It was exhilaration to you. But that wasn't it either.

In conclusion, you had no answer. You couldn't outwit a man who shifted the system of a factory that was close to beggary not because this joyous, welcoming environment of a toy company kept people away but because of the risks that he so challenged. This sole place was pitiful, money was a topic that never left anybody's tongue; the people were reflected like the experiments, scurrying around like rats before the only light that reaches them is the glow of a scalpel.

Perking up, you blinked back the sleep that threatened to overcome you; fingers automatically popping open a bottle of melatonin.

"Yes, Dr. Sawyer. I'd do it in a heartbeat if you were to ask of me."

You didn't notice such a desperate, deprived answer came out of you before the pill dropped from your fingers. The clatter made you drop your head sharply at the ground before shakily putting down the bottle. You swallowed the bile in your throat, wanting to correct yourself, extinguish a bit of that idiocy that you just spouted but what comes next make you gingerly look at him.

It was a short chuckle at your statement, he never did turn his head while talking to you. It was unclear if it was a humourless chuckle or he found you amusing or slow-witted. From many words you could've picked out, why did it have to be those words? Your heart rate starts picking up that you gripped your chest. Maybe, there was an implication to what was uttered, a deeper meaning on how you truly felt for the Doctor.

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

Harley Sawyer removed his gloves before he inspected what he had worked on alone. No scientist remained in the room with him, only you. He takes out a tape before he sits down next to the motionless experiment. He starts, his fingers tapping against the table.

"Experiment 1352, Pet Archetype. Responds to sound and light at best. Standard for experiments who are freshly experimented on"

He continues, his eyes flicking at the experiment.

"This experiment will be different, the style choice separate from actual toys in production. This one, will have a humanoid body. Though, it is far different from Miss Delight."

His fingers brush against the experiment's arm. He articulates his next words slowly.

"The idea is nothing short of obscene, a human with dog features. One that will sweep up this company's mess as it intends to do, it's a form of hybrid."

He nearly loses himself, this company was a pain in the ass; his humourless laugh turning almost insane. He could order the scared scientists under him to bow wow for him with a flick of his wrist since he had the ability to but he holds back, remembering what he planned to say. The bark of laughter he let out made the toy squirm, squirming to breathe, to move or even live. Its chest heaves so heavily and Harley stares down at it.

This log was becoming more and more unprofessional, it tickles him. This is why science was more suited for him since creative thinking led him to dig deep into his desires instead.

"It'll be a part of security alongside the other toys. If other results please me then I may move 1352 up a rank."

He writes on the report, his hand writing faster than the pen as this adrenaline he had in him, it was anticipation for this experiment to succeed. You haven't uttered a word ever since the start of the experiment but it was quite alright, he'll wait. Oh, he will definitely wait.

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

He heard the certain germ quietly pattering to and fro in this sanctuary he deems his, his vessels moving in place for the finale.

Guess Yarnaby couldn't keep them away for that long, it was quite predictable. He must've met his end already, considering the fact that this employee was anything but normal. He almost run out of toys to set upon the intruder, letting his vessel rest beside the machinery where his brain was.

But there was one, one he kept away from the company for so long, clenched hands to let this keepsake stay hidden.

This toy, the one kneeling on the ground where wires were sprawled all over the floor. It kept their head down resting against the knee of his vessel. Their fluffy tail thumping against the ground, still with energy even if there wasn't much meat to chew on anymore. His eye creased in satisfaction at how this one was still alive only because they were under his rule.

His call on making a hybrid sated his hunger but only by the tip of the iceberg. They were hopelessly mopey at times, it was delightfully pathetic. He traced the tape, the final log he managed to do before he was made into this lamentable piece of metal and sparks. He puts it into a nearby television, watching the pup's ear perk up to his voice and crawl towards the table.

"Experiment 1352, Pet Archetype. In relation, this one's cognitive function had worked terrifically but it can't speak. It's quite ironic, seeing that it reflects the person whom I experimented on."

The clinking of the surgical instruments could be heard with the scribbling of paper. He rasps on lightly, he should call this mutt by a name; a special one. One he never said before followed by a dark chuckle.

"Isn't that right, Y/N? Best get farmiliar with that name, I've made an effort to remember your name and it'd be a shame if you forgot."

You yipped, scratching against the table with your ears flattened against your head as he scoffs. You were moved to Playcare like he intended to. He only thought of moving you to work alongside before he got turned into organs, it was a terrible fate considering he was close to the fun part.

He wasn't surprised when you survived the Hour of Joy, you were supposed to. Being his assistant and working aside such dilligence steered you to the right path, that big brain of yours still working in this different body. Even if you looked human, the plastic on your limbs didn't make you struggle; you scoped out this graveyard like a trained dog. It was surely a struggle to make you a human who just had dog features or one who had actual hind legs because either way,

You just look much better kneeling before him.

The other scientists would always be talking behind his back or give him weary looks to what he wanted next, not that he cared much. It was an observation that became a repetitive cycle that it bored him more than experiments that turn out to be failures but you, you stoked a dangerous flame of interest in his soul.

You come close, passing notes and scalpels and touching skin to skin. It was delectable having an assistant that was so predictable and an oddball that only stuck close to him like a pet.

When Yarnaby had found you, hiding up high in the vents; you accidentally peeked out at the wrong time. This mass of yarn was dragging you by the nape kicking and screaming. The lion growls, knowing it shouldn't harm you but your kicks were deathly. He throws you down infront of the Doctor's feet and you growled, ears flattened from aggression.

He kneels, extending a hand and your demeanour changes so quickly.

"Here, pup. Remember me? I'm sure you'd recognise me even if it's just my voice?"

You struggled up to your knees, your chest heaves like crazy to the realisation then bowed completely on the ground.

Incredible, such quick response like you've realised who you were supposed to worship. He stepped close before he pulls you up by the hair and you whined so prettily.

"You do remember what to do, respect me and I'll reward you. Isn't that exciting?"

Utterly demeaning were the words spoken to this pup who stared up at him like he hung the stars, it was like there was only one thing on its mind. That word, reward. Harley never gave away any strong praise or anything, it could be anything and you were bursting at the seams. It was like you never changed.

The vessel's head snapped at the television as the tape ends and the dog bow wowed for more. He was aware that his form now was nothing compared to when he was a human. He thought of something that made him come close to you. Did you ever fantasies about him?

He hardly thinks about these type of things but everything that comes to unnervingly stroke at somebody's weak spots were accounted for and he was quite intrigued at the thought that you were a little perv if you ever were.

Those quick glances, soft sighs to continue focusing on the projects and the furrow at your brows when you think about how you've started at him so much were all noticed by him. Do they go more than that? He didn't go beyond experiments so he doesn't know if somebody like you were to imagine him in such a scandalous manners.

He touches your thigh, rubbing it and you nearly short circuited. He ran his hand up and down teasingly, nearing your private regions that you flinch away from.

"Come now, mutt. Don't you want to feel me?"

He does it again but now holding you close to him. Metal was what you felt but that heartbeat of yours was audible against him. Harley didn't know that you were disappointed. You wanted to feel the real deal, the intimacy you both would have if you two were still... Human.

His hot breath would be aimed down your neck while his warm hands would make you grip the bedsheets, the eye contact with this man would leave you breathless. But you weren't opposed to the pleasure because he was still him, the Doctor you'll follow till the end of the road; till the ends of hell.

He rubs his palm down your chest then his thumbs press against your stomach down to your hips. You salivated, it was detestable and flattering. These desire of yours should've been a reward from the very start but he only thought to commend your actions, wrapping your head around his words. Nevertheless, this was rewarding for him anyways since this was a discovery he will enjoy from his sweet assistant that was so on edge.

His cold steel hands was felt, proding at the inner most deeper parts of you. His hands go even lower which makes you slightly jump but he tutted, smacking at your thigh though he wasn't completely turnt off by it. He let your sensations go haywire as his hand rubbed between your legs, cupping your nether regions and making you yip pathetically.

Harley held you in his lap, holding both your thighs apart while he stroked at his creation. Those late nights which he remembered where he drawn out the details of your genitals, envisioning how it look when he creates every bit of your new form. Those pencil strokes of pure perversion lingers in him when you drip on his hands, it was wonderful of how he planned out everything even the synthetic juices you'll spurt when you feel ecstacy.

He wished he could taste it, his vessel tapping at the glass where his mouth would be; it would fill him with such bliss to lick it all up. Just seeing you tremble from his fingers make him feel powerful, you were just so easy. He had you from the start.

He touched the juices, slipping it in your hole and feeling you react to his fingers and clench tightly. He tried fixing your vocal cords when your body was still in testing. Moments where he dared to cut open your throat and inspect again and again but to no avail. He marvels at the thought of you actually speaking in this form, pleading and calling out his name but he settled with putting his hand around your neck and feeding off the vibrations your throat does.

He hits deep, his fingers thrusting against your inner walls that he watched in awe and how you squirted all over his fingers, he chuckled and turned his head before you clumsily get it all over his TV face. He didn't stop there, caressing the tip of your senses and making you scuffle your feet at the floor like you're asking him to stop.

Overstimulation was a part of every experiment to push past boundaries, it was his way of knowing whether the experiment was made for pain and ready to handle forces against it and you did so well not to fall apart.

"Doctor!"

He nearly falls onto you in exhilaration, your voice so garbled and loud with pleasure and pumped deep into your G-spot. That's it, come again for him and he'll feel something else other than joy. All you needed was a push before these expectations of his were met. He felt you grab at his robe, clenching it in your hand. You swore you saw stars other than the headiness of the Doctor being so intimate with you, this body of yours might shatter at the all consuming ache if being bent to his will.

"Come for me once again, mutt."

A scream ripped apart from you that you do what he says, exhaling every bit of your desperation before falling faint. Limp body lay against his lap, head lolling out for air and consciousness as he steadies you and moved you to the floor. Your fluffy tail thumped tirelessly against the ground. With an inhale, the Nightmare Critters pop up to his whistle and they moved you to a more comfortable position and he moves for the final showdown.

He can't help but scoff, even if it came out empty. There was a dark smirk on his face and he smoothed down his robes, he mayhaps pushed your reward for too long.

He walks away from you and didn't look back, now he continues his long term mission. He'll be expecting bigger things from you now, much more.

[myerssimp21]

Iceberg's Jewel pt. 1

This is just another idea rattling around in my head! While this is still yandere Batfam, the premise is slightly different—here, they haven’t quite met you yet. The focus starts with Oswald Cobblepot and the Iceberg Lounge, but trust me, the Batfamily won’t be far behind. Timeline-wise, this would technically come first, even though in my other yandere Batfam fics, Tim and Jason have already had their moments with you. So yes, there will be a plot hole later where they’ve somehow already hooked up with you—just roll with it. Consider it canon-ish, but mostly just me playing around with ideas. tl;dr: This is a prequel of sorts to my other yandere Batfam fics, but I’m mostly here to have fun with the concept. Hope you enjoy! 💙 word count: 3201

Oswald Cobblepot prided himself on running a tight ship. The Iceberg Lounge was a beacon of opulence in Gotham, catering to a clientele that wanted their danger with a side of champagne. When he put out that little “Help Wanted” sign as a joke—an amusing way to signal to the people he was looking for that he was ready to onboard—he hadn’t expected someone like you to waltz in.

You were nervous but bright-eyed, clutching a copy of your résumé (how quaint) in one hand, wearing a Gotham University sweater that screamed student loans and part-time hustle. The smile you gave him when he walked into the lounge floor was disarming—too genuine for this city. You asked to speak to someone about the janitorial position, and Os had to bite back a laugh.

“A janitor? Here? Sweetheart, you might be too good for this place,” he muttered under his breath, too quietly for you to hear, before waving a hand dismissively at one of his goons. “Send her to my office.”

His office wasn’t where interviews were usually held—far too personal, far too… revealing. But for some reason, he wanted to gauge you himself. Maybe it was your naivete; maybe it was the way your gaze lingered on the crystal chandeliers and plush carpets like you’d never seen luxury this close before. You were looking at him as a normal boss, not a criminal mastermind, and he realized he might like that.

By the time you’d been seated in the chair across from his polished mahogany desk for only 15 minutes, he was already hooked. He asked simple questions at first—your availability, your experience—but quickly veered into territory that let him know more about you. Your classes at Gotham U were interesting, but you worked too much to fully appreciate them. You loved your psychology major but struggled with scheduling, hoping that the pay here was more than the measly pay you scrounged from your other two jobs. He listened with great interest as you spoke of your genuine excitement to be working in a "classy place like this."

He didn’t have the heart to tell you this place wasn’t really classy—just good at pretending.

Cobblepot tilted his head, the curiosity in his expression sharpening as he tapped a finger against the arm of his chair. “You’re not from here, are you?” he asked, a sly grin forming. “So, what do you think of our little city?”

“Oh, uh…” You laughed nervously, shifting in your seat. “It’s… something, that’s for sure. Gotham’s kinda like… I don’t know, a scrappy mutt? It bites, like, a lot, but you can’t help but wanna pet it anyway. It’s scrappy and loveable.”

Oswald chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “Lovable?” he repeated, shaking his head. “You’re a strange one. Most people run for the hills when it comes to Gotham.”

“Yeah, well…” You shrugged, the faintest smile tugging at your lips. “I’m already here, so I might as well figure it out, y’know? Plus, it’s not all bad. I mean, the people are tough, and the city’s got… personality. A weird, messed-up personality, but still.”

He found himself appreciating your honesty. It was a rare thing in his world—people who weren’t either trying to butter him up or wring him dry. And that smile… Hm. Something about it didn’t belong here.

Then, the door to his office slammed open. A goon stumbled in without so much as a knock, huffing like a dog chasing its own tail as he fumbled a thick stack of papers in his hands.

Oswald snapped to attention so fast it was animalistic. One second, he was relaxed, bemused by you—the next, his face contorted with fury, his lips curling back in a snarl that made the dim office feel suddenly suffocating.

“What?” Cobblepot snarled, his tone cutting like ice. The very air in the room seemed to turn electric, humming with the promise of violence.

The goon froze mid-step, eyes darting between you and his boss. He looked like he’d just walked into an execution chamber by mistake.

Oswald’s teeth clenched so tight a vein throbbed visibly in his temple. “You knock before coming into my office,” he seethed, voice dropping to something far more dangerous than the initial explosion. Cold. Calculating. A blade slipping between ribs. “You wait. You don’t—”

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw you.

Frozen.

Wide-eyed.

And just like that, the change was immediate.

His snarl vanished. The storm passed in an instant, like flicking off a switch. The barely-contained rabid rage that had been twisting his face smoothed into something almost… embarrassed. Guiltily casual.

Cobblepot glanced back at you, then at the goon, then back at you. For a brief, telling second, he looked—not regretful, but calculating. Then he sighed through his nose, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off an unpleasant thought.

"Handle it later," he ordered, voice abruptly warm. Silk-soft. As if he hadn’t just been inches from taking a man’s head off. His hand flicked lazily toward the door, a dismissive gesture. “Can’t you see I’m with someone?”

The goon scuttled out of the room like a kicked dog, the papers in his hands rustling violently as he clutched them to his chest.

The moment the door shut, Oswald let out a measured breath, as if centering himself. Then, in a whiplash-inducing shift, he turned back to you with an awkward, almost sheepish smile.

"Sorry about that,” he said, voice dripping with artificial sweetness, as if his outburst had never happened. He waved a hand, dismissing it entirely, his gaze keenly watching your expression for any lasting tension. “Some of my employees just don’t have any manners.”

You offered a polite, thin smile, still shaken, but brushed it off with a shrug. You had already figured this place wasn’t exactly warm and welcoming, but the speed at which his fury had vanished was... unsettling.

Oswald noticed.

He noticed everything.

And for the first time in a long, long while… he wasn’t sure if he liked the way your smile still had a hint of nerves clinging to it.

The Batcave was unusually quiet, save for the faint tapping of Tim’s keyboard and the low hum of the monitors. Bruce sat at the console, watching the live feed from Oswald Cobblepot’s office. You were seated across from the Penguin, a mixture of nerves and polite excitement etched on your face. The Iceberg Lounge’s chandelier lights reflected in your wide eyes as you gestured animatedly, your Gotham University sweater and résumé betraying your earnestness in a city that thrived on deception.

“Can’t decide if she’s brave or just clueless,” Tim remarked, leaning back slightly as he toggled between camera feeds. “She walked into Cobblepot’s lair with a résumé. A résumé, Bruce.”

“She’s a student trying to make ends meet. That’s not bravery—it’s necessity.”

Damian’s voice crackled through the comms. “She really responded to a ‘help wanted’ ad? Tt. Typical. Of course that bloated bird would choose a naive one. She’ll probably end up scrubbing vomit out of his VIP lounge carpets.”

Tim tutted thoughtfully at Damian’s comment. “I mean…..he’s probably aiming higher than janitorial work for her. Did you hear the way he sweetened his voice?”

Damian scoffed but didn't reply. 

A new voice broke in over the comms—Dick, speaking from his position on patrol. “You think she knows what she’s getting into? Working there isn’t exactly safe.”

“She doesn’t,” Bruce answered simply, “But that doesn’t make her unique. Plenty of people stumble into Gotham’s underworld without realizing it. We can’t save everyone.”

Tim muttered, “Still doesn’t mean we should ignore it. If Penguin’s targeting her for something, we’ll want to know why.”

Damian chimed in again, his tone slightly mocking. “We already know why, Drake. He likes his toys naïve, optimistic, and disposable. She won’t last a week before she gets a reality check—or worse.”

Bruce’s eyes flicked toward the feed as Cobblepot stood, offering you a hand and gesturing toward the door. “They’re moving,” Bruce said. “Tim, keep the office feed rolling, and find another camera angle.” 

“We won’t have audio and depending on where he’s taking her, I’m not sure we’ll have visuals either.”

There was a moment of silence, the kind that spoke volumes in the Batcave.

Dick broke it. “She’s smart enough to know what Cobblepot is, right? I mean, who walks into the Iceberg Lounge thinking it’s just a nightclub?”

“People who don’t know Gotham,” Tim replied, scrolling through files, soaking in what he can on you. “..She’s a psych major at Gotham U, full-time. She’s been juggling two jobs already, so she’s probably just desperate for the paycheck.”

Damian’s tone turned sharper. “Desperation or not, she’s still a fool. You don’t wear a sweater with your university’s name on it when you waltz into the lion’s den.”

Tim smirked. “Guess she didn’t take Gotham’s prerequisite: Street Smarts 101.”

The screen now displayed the empty office, Cobblepot’s desk abandoned. You were out of their sight, and for the moment, out of their reach. But the Batfamily wasn’t about to let you disappear into the darkness of Gotham without a trace. Tim was scrambling to find a feed that would give them info as to where Cobblepot’s taking you, but at the very least, they have relevant info on you.

Dick’s voice again. “Did you hear her in that interview? ‘Lovable but scrappy.’” He smiled faintly at the words. “She actually likes Gotham. We should keep it that way.”

Tim again, confirming some details. “Transferred to Gotham U from out of state. No criminal record, no red flags.”

Damian’s voice cut in, sharp and dry. “Other than walking into the Iceberg Lounge with a résumé. That’s a red flag for stupidity.”

Dick countered, his tone softer now. “She doesn’t know any better. Give her a break.”

Jason laughed, his voice snarky over the comms line from his own patrol. “Oh, sure, Grayson. Let’s all gather around and shield her from the big bad city. What’s next, care packages?”

Dick sighed audibly, “Don’t you have a crime boss to scare right now?”

Jason chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Already done. You should’ve seen the look on his face. Priceless.” Another faint noise came through, likely the reloading of a gun.

Bruce’s voice cut through before Dick could respond. “Enough. Focus, Jason.”

“Whatever you say, B,” Jason replied breezily, though the teasing lilt was still in his voice. “I’ll keep an eye out, too, just in case our scrappy little friend stirs up any trouble at the Iceberg.”

Damian snorted. “I’ll enjoy seeing Cobblepot’s face when she quits.”

Bruce didn’t respond right away. His eyes lingered on your face, captured mid-smile on the monitor. Quietly, he murmured, “She’ll need another job. A safe one. I’m sure Wayne Enterprises will have something available for her.”

“Keep me updated,” Batman ordered as he stood, his cape swishing as he headed toward the Batmobile. “If she gets in over her head, we’re pulling her out. No debates.”

Damian’s voice came back, quieter this time, reluctant. “She’s already in over her head.”

Little did they know, Oswald Cobblepot’s schemes for you were the furthest thing from exploitative labor. In his mind, the idea of you actually toiling away with a mop and bucket was quickly becoming unthinkable—borderline offensive, even.

The moment he saw the way your eyes sparkled with hope and determination, and saw the way you'd listed your good grades on your resume in a hopeful attempt at impressing him and proving your aptitudes, he’d decided he’d let you sleep on the job if you wanted to. Hell, he’d set up a whole suite in the back of the Lounge if it kept you close and content. You could waste time dusting the empty liquor shelves or filing nonexistent paperwork all day if it made you feel productive. What mattered to him wasn’t what you did—it was that you were here, where he could keep an eye on you.

But of course, Cobblepot wouldn't admit that to himself. Not yet, at least. No, this was just “good business,” he rationalized. You were a valuable asset—your charm and friendliness were enough to lighten up even the Iceberg’s darkest corners. You had a way of making the whole place feel... welcoming and warm, like you were untouched by Gotham’s grime and crime. Plus you wanted to be productive. He scoffed under his breath, amused. Of course one of the first fresh faces ready to work at the Lounge was also someone who he didn’t dream of involving in his actual operations. Just his luck.

So, if you decided you needed an afternoon nap in the dusty janitorial closet? He’d send a goon to bring you a pillow. If you scoured the cleaning supply catalog for hours without actually ordering anything? He’d find it endearing. As long as you were happy and oblivious to the underworld swirling just beneath the Lounge’s polished surface, you could do whatever you wanted.

Unbeknownst to them all, while they debated your safety, Oswald was sitting back in his office, already plotting ways to make your life easier. Sure, he’d keep up the charade of being your boss for now—keep you busy with harmless tasks so you didn’t get suspicious. But he wasn’t about to let you work too hard. Not his sweet, naive new hire.

You didn’t belong in Gotham’s shadows. And as far as Oswald Cobblepot was concerned, he’d make sure you never had to find out just how dark they could get. Or at least, he’d try. 

By the time Oswald walked you to the janitorial closet—a tiny, forgotten room in the back of the lounge—he was already plotting how to keep you close. The closet was practically empty, a detail that normally wouldn’t bother him, but the way your face fell at the sight made him want to slap whoever was supposed to manage the damn place.

"Um… is this where I’m supposed to… work?" you asked softly, your voice unsure as you peeked into the empty closet. Your eyes darted around, taking in the barren shelves and dusty floor, as though you’d missed some hidden stash of supplies. "It just… doesn’t look ready yet?"

"Ah… this won’t do," he said quickly, covering his irritation with a smooth smile. "Looks like someone’s dropped the ball here. Don’t you worry about this, darlin’. I’ll get one of my guys on it—someone reliable. You’ll have everything you need to get started." 

His tone was honeyed, and though he aimed for casual reassurance, his sharp eyes flickered to the shelves like he wanted to set the whole closet ablaze for offending you. For fuck’s sake.

“No, no, this won’t do at all,” Oswald said again, shaking his head and clucking his tongue like he was personally offended by the state of the janitorial closet. “You deserve better than this mess, darlin’. I’ll have it sorted by tomorrow, you have my word.”

You blinked at him, “If you want me on the job today, I can make something work,” you offered tentatively, gesturing toward the dusty shelves. “I’ve been in worse spots before.” You gave him a sheepish smile, trying to seem accommodating.

Cobblepot scoffed softly, waving a dismissive hand. “No, no, absolutely not. I won’t have my new employee starting off in such... subpar conditions. It’s a poor reflection on me, and I can’t have that, now can I?” He straightened his tie with an air of exaggerated importance before leaning on his cane. “Here’s what we’ll do instead. You take the night to get familiar with the Lounge—on the house, of course. Have some drinks, relax, mingle a bit. Consider it my way of welcoming you to the team.”

You blinked again, even more confused. “Oh, um, that’s really generous, but shouldn’t I, like… fill out some paperwork first? Or sign something?”

Oswald chuckled, a warm, low sound that almost made you feel silly for asking. “Paperwork? We’ll handle all that boring nonsense tomorrow. No need to rush into the dull parts of the job, eh?” He gestured toward the door, ushering you back into the main lounge. “For tonight, enjoy yourself. Swing by the bar, meet some of the staff, maybe say hello to the security team. It’s important to me that you feel comfortable at the Iceberg.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if this was some sort of test, but his expression was disarmingly sincere. “Well… if you’re sure…”

“Positive,” he interrupted, clapping a hand on your shoulder with surprising gentleness. “Now, off you go. The night’s young, and the Lounge is at your disposal.”

As you stepped out of the closet and back into the opulent main floor, you glanced over your shoulder to see him watching you with a smile that seemed too genuine for someone of his reputation. You didn’t know him, but you’d heard some things. 

Unbeknownst to you, Cobblepot wasn’t just offering you free alcohol or a night to relax—he was staking his claim. He wanted you to feel at home, to see the Lounge as a safe haven, a place you’d always want to return to. Sure, there’d be paperwork eventually, but for now, the only thing that mattered was keeping you here, comfortable and unaware of the darker dealings hidden beneath the glamour.

Tim leaned back in his chair, toggling between the camera feeds inside the Iceberg Lounge. He was alone in the Batcave now, the others out on patrol in the city. “Well, there she is,” he muttered, zeroing in on his view of you at the bar. You were perched on a sleek barstool, your Gotham University sweater a stark contrast to the high-end fashion of the Lounge’s usual clientele. “She’s… drinking. A lot.”

Jason, freshly back from patrol—or what little of it he actually bothered to finish—sauntered into the Batcave, pulling off his helmet and setting it down with a thud. “That’s her?” he asked, nodding toward the screen.

“Yeah,” Tim replied without looking away. “You decided to show up?” His eyes flickered to the time down at the bottom of his monitor. "Thirty minutes early? B's not gonna be thrilled."

Jason ignored the jab, stepping closer to get a better look. “Huh,” he muttered, crossing his arms as his sharp eyes drank you in. You were laughing at something the bartender said, your cheeks flushed. You gestured animatedly with your glass while saying something they couldn't hear. “She doesn’t look like much.”

Tim raised an eyebrow, glancing up at Jason. “That’s what you cut patrol short for? To see her in person?”

Jason shrugged, his gaze fixed on you. “I was curious. Heard you and Damian going back and forth about her. Figured I’d check it out for myself.” His lips quirked into a faint smirk. “Didn’t expect her to be… this.”

Tim tilted his head. “This what?”

Jason gestured vaguely at the screen. “This… normal. Sweater, messy hair, drinking like she’s celebrating her midterms being over. Doesn’t scream ‘Iceberg Lounge material,’ y’know?”

Tim chuckled, toggling to another camera feed for a better angle. “That’s kind of the point. She thought she was interviewing for a janitorial position, Jason. Janitorial.”

Jason blinked, then snorted. “You’re kidding.”

“Wish I was,” Tim said, leaning back in his chair. “She walked in there with a résumé—an actual paper résumé—and asked about cleaning floors or whatever. Cobblepot probably laughed his ass off before offering her a drink.”

“He’s footing the bill by the way,” Tim added, toggling to a feed that showed the Penguin subtly watching you from across the room as he conversed with some guests. “She hasn’t reached for her wallet once. He’s just… letting her.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed as he studied the Penguin’s expression. There was no malice there yet, no obvious scheme in motion. Instead, Cobblepot looked almost… satisfied, like he was pleased with what he was seeing. “The hell’s his angle?” Jason muttered, his top lip curling in disgust at the possibilities.

“No idea,” Tim replied. “But if I had to guess? He’s trying to butter her up. Make her think the Lounge is a safe place, keep her happy and oblivious while he decides what to do with her.”

Jason scoffed, leaning back against the console.”She won’t last a week.”

Tim smirked. “You’re awfully invested for someone who just met her. Maybe you should prep a care package.”

“I didn’t meet her,” Jason shot back, though his eyes flicked back to the screen almost involuntarily. “I’m just saying, someone needs to give her a reality check before she gets eaten alive.”

“Maybe,” Tim said, watching as you swayed slightly to the music, chatting with another patron who’d joined you at the bar. “But she doesn’t look like she’s in danger. Yet.”

Jason grunted, pushing off the console and grabbing his helmet. “Yeah, well, I’m keeping an eye on this one. If Penguin tries anything, I’m ending it.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so now you’re helping? Didn’t you just skip the last half of your patrol?”

Jason smirked as he turned toward the exit. “Hey, monitoring Gotham’s underworld is part of the job, isn’t it? I’m just doing my part.”

Tim shook his head with a laugh as Jason disappeared up the stairs. “Sure you are.”

Back on the screen, you were oblivious to the scrutiny, to the way the curiosities of Gotham's vigilantes were beginning to blossom into something more.

[remina-mina]

First years and how they ended up at Ramshackle (Pomefiore)

Epel

"It's not like you to zone out in potions class." "... Vil just has been working me to bone recently, don't worry" "I wasn't worried but.. a good sleep schedule is important to maintain a good performance in classes"

If someone asked Epel when he started sleeping over at Ramshackle he'd tell'em to mind their business. But if he was feeling generous he'd lie and tell them it started during the VDC but even he knows thats not quite the whole truth.

The pristine walls of Pomefiore are beautiful, undeniably so, nevertheless after his adventure to STYX and Yuu and Grim's return to Ramshackle he can't help the sickness in his stomach as he wanders the halls.

This sickness is different from the resigned annoyance he'd felt at the start of the year. Different from loneliness that would grasp onto his bones and twist itself until he found himself awake the next morning. No, this was more dangerous and thorny than that.

His feet carry him to the Pomefiore gardens where he'd spent the past couple nights reciting his unique magic and practicing until dawn. He needs to be ready for whatever may come. He needs to be stronger or else...

If he practices just a couple more times then surely, surely, the mangled unnatural limbs of phantoms will leave his nightmares, the sound of screams will leave him. If he tires himself out then his nights will no longer be sleepless. Just one more time-

"Epel... You are aware that curfew was 4 hours ago" A stern voice cuts through the garden. "Vil-san... I.. woke up to get water" Epel mumbles. He can't even bring himself to look Vil in the eye. Epel doesn't even know what he's saying. Does he even care anymore? "Water from the garden hose?" He doesn't even need to look at Vil to imagine the way his brows furrow just enough to convey his disappointment while avoiding wrinkles. "Follow me." Vil doesn't give Epel the chance to respond before dragging him along the path out of Pomefiore. Soon they are standing in front of the gate to Ramshackle. "Why did'ja bring me here?" Epel turns to Vil and looks at him for the first time that night. He realizes that he let his accent slip and braces himself for the lecture, but no lecture comes. "I am simply fulfilling a request."

Before he can question him, Yuu steps out from Ramshackle and calls out to him. When he turns to say goodnight to Vil, he finds him already walking back to the dorm and takes that as a sign to head into Ramshackle.

To his shock he finds Ace, Deuce, and Jack already inside, sitting on makeshift beds on the lounge floor. There was already a bed set up for him too.

He half-expects them to force him to answer questions, like why was he awake but no questions come. When he finally gets a good look at everyone he sees a burning, they all want to be stronger, they all want to conquer the fears that grapple them.

Deuce hands him a fresh cup of tea and in the warmth, he finds himself tearing up. If anyone notices the stray tears that fall, they don't comment.

Even though the lounge silent, there is so much said, and in those unspoken words he finds a temporary medicine to the sickness that'd grappled him for weeks. And his sleep is dreamless.

honestly I see Epel as someone whose very stubborn and can get very tunnel visioned just like Deuce and end up beating themself up with their impatience and put themselves in a spiral. that's partially why I decided to have Deuce be the one to give him tea, it's almost like a silent message of we can work to be stronger together just like we promised on the beach. I had a feeling Yuu would notice that Epel hasn't been sleeping while they were staying at Pomefiore, especially since they'd gotten so close through the STYX incident. Maybe as one last thank you to Vil for letting them stay they tip him off about Epel's night practices. Epel craves strength but not as a tool to dominate but rather as a way to protect other people. of course because he is an NRC student is a side of him where he finds his place in the world and orients his relation with those around him based on strength but I feel we see a bit of this fall away as he experiences more deadly situations. anyway I can ramble for hours about Epel.

Ace / Deuce / Jack / Epel

[everdeensworld]

VDay prompts: 9&10, hotch x fem!reader (could be gen neutral, bau!reader too!) Aaron saying the dialogue

prompts: #9 “just keep your eyes closed.” “you’re not leading me to my death are you?” #10 “i hate valentine’s day, it’s pointless.” “i’m going to change your mind, go out with me.”

authors note: haha! don’t worry about it, thank you for the request!

prompt list

“i hate valentine’s day, its pointless.” being a hopeless romantic, hearing aaron say that in such confidence had urged you to change his mind.

he and been a pessimist as long as you knew him, but you knew he enjoyed holidays like christmas and halloween, the bau had always made them into a big deal, and he did have a young son, so you knew those days were very magical for kids, for his son, so therefore they were magical to him too.

but hating valentine’s day! you just could not allow it, and this was the perfect opportunity you couldn’t pass up, having feelings for your boss was taboo, but after gaining a friendship with him, it felt a little less taboo.

“i’m going to change your mind, go out with me.” you said to him in full confidence, which had caught his usually stoic self off guard, he lets out a little laugh, assuming you were just kidding.

“i’m not joking, go out with me.” you say, then clearing your throat. “if you want to that is.”

he stared down at your face trying to decipher wether or not you were really being serious, slowly his face softened. “okay, alright then, i will go out with you, you better dazzle me, i do hate valentine’s day after all.”

you smile, gleefully. “of-course, nothing less for you.”

that’s how you got to where you are now, his eyes covered with a blindfold, and you were covering that with your hand, for good measure, leading him to where you’d be having your date.

after he had agreed you had spend most your free time planning for it, you’d been hopelessly in love with aaron since you’d met him, and taking him out on valentines day could be the chance to finally have him love you back.

“do i have to have this blindfold on?” he asked with a grumble, almost stumbling over a tree stump, trying to reach up to take it off but you swat his hand away.

“just keep your eyes closed!” you tell him, in a firm voice, eliciting a soft chuckle from him.

“you’re not leading me to my death are you?” he asked, feeling you lead him down a path that was pretty narrow, he hears you let out a soft huff.

“don’t you have any faith in me aaron, you’re too— work mode.”

before he could make a witty response back, you let go of his hand and swivel around to him, “okay, we’re here, you can take off your blindfold now!”

he’s quick to take it off, deep down he knows he’d been looking forward to this, even if he claimed he hated valentine’s day, he couldn’t, not when you loved it.

his eyes searched the area, it was a little patch of grass, a few candles and a picnic blanket decked out with treats, snacks and meal foods, his eyes widened.

maybe it was high-school of him to feel like he had butterflies, it had been a while since he’d experienced anything remotely romantic.

ever since he’d lost his ex-wife, he steered clear of love, it scared him, he didn’t think that he deserved it, and he didn’t think anyone would want a man with all his baggage, not only that he had a young son.

he didn’t want to put anyone in danger, and he didn’t want to put you in danger.

the role-reversal was quite a strange feeling on his part, he’d never had someone lead him to a picnic with, blindfold on, or ask him to be their valentine so sweetly, but it was quite freeing, it made him feel liked, worthy.

not that he didn’t mind being the one to make romantic gestures, in fact, if you hadn’t been the one to ask him out, he had shamefully, got a corny valenties card with a bee on it that said ‘bee my valentine.’

after all, before you had boldly asked him out on a date, he pretended he didn’t care for valentine’s day.

he was glad he didn’t have that to show, seeing the effort you had put in for him, he would’ve looked like the world greatest asshole. “this is… wonderful.” he smiled.

“is it?” you look up at him. “i know it’s a bit.. uh, girly, i hope you don’t mind, i just thought that even men deserve to be doted on every once in a while.”

the hesitant look on your face made his heart swell, “it’s perfect, i think valentine’s day is creeping up on me..” he smirked, making you grin with excitement.

“well! now we’ve got to make you love it, i’ve got champagne, and all your favourite foods.” you say, leading him to the picnic blanket, he followed willingly.

what you didn’t know was, you’d already had him hooked on valentine’s day, he loved it, though watching you try and convince him a little bit longer wouldnt hurt.

[dollyhao]

lawyer!abby x client!reader (married to man but dude is barely mentioned, promise. fingering, tension, im not good at these lol, also don’t even know if this is good or not :/, let me know)

can you guys believe i couldn't find any buff women in suits...? maybe i wasn't looking hard enough...

when abby decided she wanted to be a lawyer, she thought she was gonna be some bad ass attorney that puts all the bad guys away. what she never expected was that she would end up dealing with messy divorces. but no complaining on her part; the pay is good and the mess is entertaining.

But when a woman with the bright smile on her face walks into her office she's intrigued, no one walks in here so happy. she stands up from behind her desk to shake your hand, "Good Afternoon, I'm Abby Anderson. It's nice to meet you."

your still smiling at her and you grab her hand, "It's nice to meet you; seems like your gonna be my saving grace." abby laughs and gestures for you to sit. "Would you like to start by telling me your situation?"

you hum and your smile slips a little, "ive been married for the last 7 years and i just wasn't happy anymore." you shrug a little. abby waits for you to continue but you don't so she hums. she can't help when her eyes trace over your features, you don't look like someone who was married for 7 years, you look so youthful and beautiful.

"no details?" abby gives you a teasing smirk as she looks at you. you giggle a little, "hmm, my ex-husband is a rich man who thought i was gonna cry and beg him to stay after i found out he cheated. but i didn't and asked for a divorce." abby hums writing some details down, "so what are you looking to get out of this?" abby puts her pen down, watching the way your lips lift into a smirk. "i want to take him for all he has."

abby smiles back at you standing and coming to stand in front of you, "i can see a blossoming relationship coming from this case," abby holds her hand out again to shake your hand. you smile and bite your lip before taking her hand and shaking it.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

you and abby spend a good amount of time together settling things for a divorce settlement. you both have gotten so close, an unspoken connection has been building between the two of you; like abby's hand on the small of your back, coffee 'meetings' where you guys don't talk about the case at all, standing a little too close to each other and more unnecessary touches.

it all reached a boiling point when you and abby were sitting in her office after hours when abby pulls out some wine and glasses she keeps behind her desk, you should've left an hour ago but you and abby weren't ready to leave each other.

your sipping from you glass while you listen to abby talk about her college days. you kick your shoes off stretching your legs in-between you and abby on the couch you were lounging on. abby had her blazer off, shirt unbuttoned dangerously low and and sleeves rolled up to her elbows. she looked so good sitting there with her legs spread and her hair falling over her shoulders.

your thoughts are getting hazy when abby stops talking, since you haven't responded to anything she's said in the last 5 minutes. she looks over at you and bites her bottom lip gently. seeing the way the moon shines through her window and lights up your face, she wants you closer.

"are you alright?" she whispers scooting closer to you, picking up your legs and placing them in her lap. "mhmm," your eyes fix on the way abby's lip is still in between her teeth. "i could sit and listen to you all day," you match her tone, scooting closer to play with the ends of her hair.

"i could watch you all day." she mumbles putting her hand on the back of your neck leaning closer to you, bumping your noses together. you close the gap between the two of you, kissing her lips with all the tension that's been building for the last couple months. abby reciprocates with just as much passion; hand in your hair the other on your waist trying to get you closer. you push at her shoulders even though your lips chase hers.

you know you shouldn't do this, not now atleast. you pull away from her watching her as you catch your breath, her lips pink and swollen looking like they're ready to get back on you. "i should go..." you whisper.

abby looks into your eyes, "if that's what you want," you nod and pull your legs off her lap. she nods, "let me take you home." you nod again watching her grab her coat and keys. you stand and do the same walking out the building and to abby's car.

when she pulls in front of your house, she looks over at you waiting for you. you turn towards her, leaning over the console to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth then directly on her lips. "thank you." you tell her before getting out and walking to your front door.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

on the day your divorce was finalized and you successfully milked you husband dry of his money, you and abby were pure smiles and grins as you rode back to her office. abby said she wants to take you out to dinner tonight to celebrate and you agree, but all you can think about is thanking her for all she has done in so many different ways.

this woman who has been nothing but gentle and attentive to you since she's met you, has melted your heart in a way no one ever has. you want her in a way you never have your husband or anyone else. but you might be thinking too much into this; this might be nothing but two people who worked close together who are obviously attracted to one another.

when you entered her office, you walk over to her desk and lean against it. “i can’t believe you did it,” you say for the second time since you left your ex and his lawyer. abby comes to stand in front of you smiling, "i didn't do much, your husband and his idiot lawyer made it too easy." you stare into her eyes before your eyes flick down to her lips. "i want to thank you."

“you don’t need to do that.” she licks her lip, caging you in as she puts her hands on her desk. her breath fans over your face as you have to restrain yourself from leaning forward and kissing her.

abby turns you around pressing you against her desk, "you've been an angel throughout all this," she whispers in your ears, "i wanna thank you," she kisses the back of your neck. she pushes you down across her desk, untucking your blouse from your skirt and pushing it up to expose your bare back. you shiver at her cold hands as they run across your skin and jump when you feel her lips press a kiss to the base of your spine.

"abby, touch me please." you turn your head to look at her, unzipping your skirt and letting it fall to the ground. "what's the rush? i thought you were supposed to be thanking me," her eyes are locked on your lacy pink panties as her big hands grip your ass. "i-i am. i just want-" you whine and jump when her hand collides with your ass. "then be patient."

you nod as abby's thumb runs up and down the wet fabric covering your dripping cunt. you whine pushing back against her, she moves your panties to the side and slips two fingers into your tight walls, feeling you tighten immediately.

you moan, jaw slack, her name caught in your throat as she fucks you on her fingers. "now what do you say?" she reaches her hand to grab your hair in her grip pulling your body against hers. you brace your hands on her desk as you fuck yourself against her fingers.

"thank you! t-thank you," a long drawn out moan falls from your lips as she uses her fingers to scissor your pussy open. abby's breathing is getting heavy as she falls more and more into the intoxicating moment; the look on your face, the feeling of you wrapped around her, the sounds your making as your orgasm builds.

"i want you. i-i want to have you all to myself." abby whispers against your sweaty neck. you clench hard around abby as you moan out, "ah, yesss! yes please." you reach your hand to hold the arm thats hitting just the right spot, overstimulating you. your orgasm subsides and you lay back on her desk. "you good beautiful?" abby picks up your skirt, pulling you up and zipping your skirt back up then tucking your stained panties into her pocket. abby moves the hair out your face with a smile and you nod.

that ended up not being the last time you've fucked abby in her office, she's up and moved you in her house where she fucks you in the shower in the morning then makes breakfast for you after. and divorcing your husband continues to be the best decision you've made.

[freakbabyy]

soft universe - Eris Vanserra x Princess!Reader Chapter Two

< chapter one | chapter two | chapter three >

2.561k words

warnings: mentions of neglect, smitten!eris

second chapter!!!! ty for reading, for the loves and reblogs and comments!!! I LOVE COMMENTS!!!

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Story preview: Y/N Erling - youngest descendent to the King of Vallahan, not special, youngest of seven girls and four boys, and certainly not next in line to the throne. A kind soul, free-natured, always does what's asked. Content with spending the rest of her fae life taking care of her nieces and nephews while her elder siblings dealt with court dealings. That was until they drew up an agreement - her hand in exchange for their agreement to the treaty with Prythian. Enter Eris Vanserra - new high lord who did not want a wife, nor a mate. Can they work it out together - under pressure from a blood rite, a language barrier, a culture barrier, and Eris' unfortunate attempts at flirting.

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chapter two - runaway 

Eris’ POV 

I wouldn’t say I was dreading meeting Y/N Erling; but I wouldn’t say I was ecstatic. I didn’t know anything about her, I didn’t want to be married this fast, and I surely didn’t want to do a blood ritual and potentially put myself in danger - or my future heirs. But here I was, standing outside of Rhysand’s townhouse picking my cuticles – a nervous tick I’ve had since a child. What if she was insufferable? What if she was annoying, or would try and overthrow me to get Vallahan more land? Kill the remaining allies I have, which were few and far between before I married someone from Vallahan. 

“What’re we looking at?” I jumped, not realizing that the Illyrian brute had snuck up on me. 

“Nothing.” I snapped back, motioning for him to go first as I followed, we were most likely going to the same place. Rhysand’s office. “Haven’t you heard its rude to sneak up on people?” 

“I didn’t exactly sneak up; I’m surprised you didn’t hear me land right beside you.” Cassian took a stop in the kitchen, “I’ll catch up with you in Rhy’s office, I need some food first – Az kicked my ass in training.” 

I didn’t reply, simply walking down the decorated hall before ascending the stairs. I knew where I was going, often meeting Rhy’s for our own meetings here when needed. Though, a lot less lately since Beron was dealt with. Following the hand painted portraits on the walls, I stopped when I heard a sound out of place. 

It was almost too quiet to hear, but the cracked door let the sound out – a humming. I felt compelled to stop, to listen. I doubted it was Morrigan, she was too loud to be this quiet, the soft tone of the hums clearly establishing it was a female. Amren didn’t sing, and if she did it would be a battle hymn. It wasn’t Feyre – she was with Nesta and Elain; I passed them as I entered. That didn’t leave anyone other than Y/N, unless it was one of the shadow wraiths.  

“And I was running far away, would I run off the world some day? Nobody knows, nobody knows.” A female stood in the middle of the room with hair that looked as soft as a feather. She was facing away from the door, her body seemingly relaxed and holding something close. “And I was dancing in the rain, I felt alive, and I can’t complain, oh,” 

She swayed back and forth, getting into the song it seemed. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her form to take in the rest of the room, but when she turned and was staring down at what she was holding I knew. She was singing a lullaby to the small bundle that was Prince Nyx, cuddling him to her chest singing as if it was her favorite thing in the world to rock him to sleep. Her eyes, which were sparkling like gemstones were no longer staring at the sleeping prince, but now at the window.  She continued to sing her haunting melody, and I continued to listen.  

“Take me home, take me home where I belong,” Her stare was longing almost, and her voice was hauntingly beautiful, falling from her plush lips with ease as she didn’t even appear out of breath; like it was second nature. “I got no other place to go, take me home, take me home where I belong; I can’t take it anymore.” 

The more the song went on, the more I couldn’t bring myself to look away and the more it took for me to remember to breathe. Her song continued, as she slowly lowered the prince into his wooden crib, kissing her fingertips before lightly brushing them against the small amount of black hair atop his head. He fussed, but only for a moment before she started to sing more – even more angelic as she began to dance.  

Her movements were slow, as if she were performing for the prince instead of lulling him to sleep. She twirled in a circle slowly, her eyes closed, as she tilted her head to the ceiling – twirling so much grace it had to of been second nature. My head tilted as well, watching her mesmerized. I was unsure why it was pulling me in, why she was pulling me in – until it happened.  

“And I kept running, for a soft place to fall-” She continued, and I was sure the young prince was asleep by now although she kept singing. When she stopped in her tracks and stared outside the window once more and a dreamy smile graced her lips, as it snapped. 

I physically had to clench my teeth to stop myself from making a sound, holding onto my tunic as emotions flooded my entire being – warmth being the most prominent one. Her singing faded into the background; my eyes blurred as I tried to focus on a single thing to no avail. I held the doorframe, turning and sliding down the wall beside the door landing on my knees as I had realized what just happened.  

“Incredible, huh?” A voice startled me out of my stupor, as I stood quickly to brush my trousers off. 

“What?” I shook my head, staring up at the Illyrian brute eating half a sandwich still. 

“Her ability to get Nyx down so fast, it takes anyone else like an hour to get him to stop fussing enough to give in to sleep.” The long-haired male patted my shoulder before I followed him into Rhy’s office, still feeling my heart beating in my ears. “Nervous for the meeting, bud?” 

“No.” I cleared my throat, straightening my hands to stop them from fidgeting and betraying me in my lie. “And I’m not your bud, Cassian.” 

He shrugged as he shouldered the door to Rhysand’s office open, inside was Morrigan, Azriel, Rhysand, Feyre and Nesta. When had those two snuck pasts me to go into the office? Rhysand pointed to one of the open chairs, where someone wasn’t sitting. I chose the one in the corner as usual. 

“Good morning, Eris. How’s high lord life treating you?” Rhysand started conversation as usual, too. 

“Oh, just a blast, like unicorns prancing through meadows.” I drawled, voice dripping with sarcasm before rolling my eyes and speaking once more. “It’s rough right now, I just had to gather a completely new advisory council after one member was trying to bribe guards to not tell me his crimes Beron had hidden.” 

“What were the crimes?” The shadowsinger questioned, curiosity getting the better of him. 

“Four counts of arson, three counts of treason, and eleven counts of illegal prostitution.” Cassian choked on his sandwich, to which Nesta took the rest of and gave him a look before finishing it. 

“Well, isn’t that lovely of him, I do wonder if those were recent or not – from my memory Beron’s advisors are- were all dirt old.” Rhysand shuttered as Feyre spoke. 

“Very recent, and they were.” A few others shuttered at the thoughts, as I cleared my throat. “Anyway, I do believe we should get this over with. I have many meetings later on in the afternoon to deal with that.” 

“Ah, of course; though there are some things first we should talk about before we introduce you to Y/N.” He motioned to his cousin, as Morrigan took over. 

“First things first, she’s a lot younger than we anticipated.”  

“You’re not making me a baby snatcher, are you? Because if that’s the case-” 

“She’s of age! She’s 23. She’s mature for her age, too – I've known her for a couple years and I swore she was at least 100.” Morrigan reassured me, if only a little. “More importantly, she isn’t fluent in Prythian common tongue. She doesn’t know basic mathematics, and she doesn’t know much about geography.” 

“What does she know? I thought she was royalty? Aren’t the royalty overseas generally very well educated?” Rhysand spoke next, an almost solemn look on his face. 

“They are. They just didn’t educate her. She’s the eleventh child – and mostly forgotten about by her parents. Her siblings were much older than her and had other obligations to attend to. In short – she was practically neglected.” He took a breath, “She was basically the live-in nanny. She took care of her sibling's children and gave up her career and future for that – just because they asked.” 

“Why would she do that?”  

“She didn’t have a choice. Either that or become forgotten again. I know you heard her on your way up, yes?” Feyre questioned, a sparkle in her eye. I nodded. “She was going to be a theatre performer. She did orchestra and loved plays. Her dancing rivals Nesta’s. Nyx enjoys her voice, and she enjoys taking care of him.” 

That explains the dancing and singing in the nursery, her expertise in dancing and singing were definitely not unnoticed.

“She was forced to take care of children, and now you have her taking care of yours?” 

“She volunteered. Practically jumping up and down when she asked to hold him.” Rhysand smiled, a knock resounding from the door, bouncing around the room. 

“Ah it is me!” The thick broken accent spoke from the other side, slightly muffled from the thick wood of the door. 

“Yes, come in.” Rhysand responded, as Cassian leaned towards me, 

“Don’t panic if she falls to the floor. She does that sometimes,” He smiled before slapping my shoulder again, and I was even more confused. Giving me advice? Is he trying to be my wingman? 

“Wait, what?” I questioned, his sentence sinking in. If she collapses? I stood abruptly as the door swung open slowly, 

“Sorry. This is heavy.” She said, pushing the door shut after entering.  She walked towards where the empty seat was, holding her hands clasped together behind her, holding a small soft smile and bowed her head to everyone. “Elain told me to visit, I here.” 

Rhysand smiled, Morrigan giving a thumbs up in encouragement – as I turned to look at her fully, she adorned a simple gown with an apron, it had slight stains on it – accompanied by a small shovel in her pocket. She gardened? Her feet were in simple flats, and her hair was in a comfortable hairstyle.  

“Y/N, this is Eris Vanserra, Eris, this is Y/N Erling.” Immediately she straightened up. 

Her hands letting go of each other and rejoining in front of her, wringing together. Her brows shot up, furrowing, as she glanced to Feyre. She looked from Feyre to my feet. Then back to Feyre. Feyre smiled a bit but then nodded while stifling an amused look. Before I could even stick my hand out for a greeting, she was on the floor. I heard the audible ‘thunk’ as either her head, or body hit the floor. I was thinking the lather as everyone else made a face. 

“I told you,” Cassian whispered loudly behind me, and I was unsure what to do. 

“You can get up, Y/N.” Nesta spoke, as she clambered up. Nesta drawled on as if this was her hundredth time saying it. “It’s how her custom shows respect. Lower the more respect.” 

“Oh,” Her bowing her head to everyone made sense now, I bowed my head as well, glancing up to make sure it was okay, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N.” 

“You, too.” She stuck her hand out, “I do your custom now.” 

“Ah,” I agreed, unsure what else to do, and went to shake her own hand. She looked baffled after, “Did I do something wrong...?” 

“You shake wrong.” 

“I- what?” I could hear muffled laughter followed by a slap behind me,  

“Here, I teach. Hand.” I complied, sticking my hand out, as she grasped my top two fingers before bringing my hand up and down. “See?” 

I was confused but nodded anyway. Where did she learn that? It must be another Vallahan custom perhaps. 

“That’s how she shook Cassian’s hand, and no one had the heart to correct her.”  A voice spoke inside my head, and I gave Rhysand a curious look.  

“Well now that that’s over with, why don’t we talk about when you two would meet next, and where. Did you want to stay here, or?” Rhysand questioned, looking back and forth between us, as I went to agree she spoke up. 

“Can we meet there?”  

“Where?” Morrigan questioned, speaking in Vallahan. 

“Autumn?” Y/N responded also in her native tongue, turning to me and looking me in the eye, “I am sorry, I do not know the word.” 

“No need to apologize, it’s alright. We can help you learn now.” I did my best reassuring smile, which was probably more of a smirk, and turned to Morrigan. “What did she say?” 

“She... actually asked to go to Autumn.” I was shocked. Surely, she wanted to stay somewhere she was comfortable already, since she was just pulled from her home? “Is Autumn stable enough to visit for an hour or two?” 

“It is in some places. I can take her on a nature walk? Do you enjoy the woods?” I directed the question to Y/N, and she looked a bit puzzled. 

“He wants to know if you want to see Autumn’s nature? I’m sure you can find some flowers native to Autumn there.” Feyre translated, and she seemed to perk up. 

“Oh! I like flowers. Yes.” She said the answer to me, and at her excited face – her wide eyes and even wider smile I felt my heart do a couple flips. 

“Great. Then it’s settled. Autumn, should we say two days from now? Noon-ish?” Feyre confirmed, glancing more at me for the time. 

“I can do one o’clock. I have an early meeting that may run late to noon.” 

“Wonderful. See you then.” Rhysand nodded once in confirmation, as I stood to leave, and bid farewell before making my way to the door. 

“Ah, wait!” I turned, stopping myself from winnowing by the Sidra. It was Y/N, a bit out of breath from running down the stairs. 

“Yes, princess?”  

“Here, my custom.” She had me hold my hand open before she dropped something into it, closing my fingers around it with her tiny hands – and I had hoped mine hadn’t started sweating with nerves. “We give handmade stone to other.” 

“Handmade stone?” I opened my fingers to look at a bright orange crystal, it was shaped as a tiny animal. Upon further inspection, it was a tiny fox. “What is it?” 

“Sunstone,” She moved my hand, so it glistened in the sun, becoming even brighter. “It brings good luck and energy. For you.” 

I was touched. She hadn’t even met me yet, and she already made me something handmade. She took her hand back, and picked up a rock from the sidra, it was already fox shaped – probably chiseled already and cooling off in the river, she cupped her hands around it before squeezing. When she let go, it was another orange fox, but smaller. She placed it also in my hand, smiling again. 

“Now he has friend.” I took her hand in mine, clasping the foxes in the other, and bend my head to lay a kiss on the back of her hand, lingering. She turned the color of Morrigan’s shirt today, a deep crimson,  

“Thank you.” I let go, and before disappearing, I turned once more. “See you in two days.” 

“Ah, goodbye. Two days.” 

-----

eek! im so excited to write more of this series and im so glad you guys like it too!

taglist: @bxm-2121 @itsxchar6 @iambored24601 @sparksandstarss @an-introverted-nishinoyasimp

[michaelwheelerdefiodental]

Jocks dynamics on Season 5 and comparing them to Henry Bowers gang from IT (and others iconic 80s villains):

This boy below with a blue shirt is the only one that didn't wear their jersey in season 4. I believe he wasn't part of the team at all in Season 4. My theory is that just like Lucas, he is just a black boy trying to fit in; he even did some research and helped them with Eddie's case, just like Lucas. He helped them find the house of that drug dealer named Rick. But he was never seen with them while they were going on a "mission", he just gave them tips and hanged out with them during parties, he doesn't appear in the basketball game, playing or even in the bench, if i remember correctly. His shirt is similar to Lucas blue shirt in episode 2 too, i think they were purposefully making parallels with these two.

We can see Andy and Chance on this paparazzi pic, and supposedly the same guy from season 4, but now he is wearing the jersey below his jacket (we can see the collar from the jersey they use, and some green color too).

Now we have a new jock, a blonde one, that not only resembles Jason (of course), but young Johnny Lawrence from Karate Kid too. This means he will be a big problem, the Duffer Brothers wouldn't cast someone similar to Johnny, a 80s iconic bully, to just make him a random weakling bully (the actor name is Deric Replogle).

He is following Dustin on the school grounds, so he is taking the lead against the actual symbol of the Hellfire Club. Meanwhile, Andy, Chase, and the new teammate are following Mike. When Dustin is at the cemetery, he is the one person more close to him; i think he will do the most damage to Dustin. Chance is there with him, the actor is shaking hands with one of the Duffers. There's no sign of Andy, maybe the actor is behind the camera, or he didn't participate in this scene.

Now i'll explain what i think their conflict will be. Andy is probably the leader now that Jason is dead, and we know he is way more crazy than him; Jason had a twisted idea of justice, but Andy seems to like to inflict pain on others. He made jokes about Chrissy being the one that was murdered, smiled while talking about hunting Eddie, and tackled Erica, a 11-year-old, while threatening to break her arm. Now this new blonde jock could be another violent and sadistic asshole, he looks like Johnny Lawrence, who is someone very dangerous to mess with, and he is the one most close to Dustin after they beat him; this can make both Andy and the blonde to try take the leadership for themselves. The blonde resembles Jason, and this would make Andy feel like an underdog again. I think he actually cared about Jason in some twisted way, but now that he is in a leader role, he won't let anyone take this from him.

We can compare this group with the four core. Andy would be Dustin, the blonde guy would be Mike; both Mike and Dustin are the ones to take the lead a lot of times, and some people tend to discuss who is the real leader of the four core, but they wouldn't care about it. On the other hand, Andy would definitely care about somebody taking him off his leader role, and this blonde jock can be the one. Chance would be Will; both are quieter guys, but Will actually has his own opinion about things and isn't always hiding them; Chance just followed Jason and Andy like a stray dog. The blue shirt guy would be Lucas, as i said. He just wants to find a way to fit in (there's a post here on Tumblr comparing the four core with the original jocks from season 4, but i couldn't find it, if you have it, send it to me so i can put the link right here).

After being challenged by the blonde too many times, Andy would end up killing him, and right after this, he would decide to kill the whole main characters gang for good, after the whole town turned into absolute chaos. He can be influenced by Vecna to do all of this, just like Henry Bowers from IT book and movies. And we know Stranger Things is heavily influenced by IT; Vecna is literally a mix of Pennywise and Freddy Krueger. Pennywise influenced Henry to kill his father, then he made the whole city of Derry be engulfed by a storm. Soon after this, he made Henry and his friends, Victor and Belch, go after the Losers Club. On IT, Henry's main target was Mike, a black kid, and it isn't a reach to say that Lucas, a black teenager, will be Andy's main target too, as he will probably think Lucas killed Jason.

After seeing all this crazy shit happening, the new boy (the one with the blue shirt on season 4, in case you have forgotten, lol) would be scared, as he didn't really want all this to happen, he just wanted to fit in, just like Lucas. Now there are two options that the writers can take, 1: he decides to get the hell of this group just like Lucas on Season 4; 2: he can continue in this hellhole and die with Chance, just like Victor and Belch from IT, to show that not everybody is like Lucas, some people will decide to continue in a bad environment just to fit in; Andy would die later on after having an encounter with the main group, just like Henry Bowers.

Or: Andy could end up being someone like Patrick Hockstetter, a sadistic maniac that ends up having a premature death, then the blonde takes the role of Henry Bowers for himself. But i think the other way is more coherent; Andy is already established as a character (and there's always the chance of this blonde guy being just a random that don't even has lines, but i hope not don't think so, lol).

I think this would be a good way to implement some horror with human villains in the series. If you're going to make a high school bully a villain, make him terrifying, just like Henry Bowers. There's the military like Sullivan and Linda Hamilton character, but i ain't really scared of them; i just know they have resources like guns; they aren't scary at all for me.

I came up with this idea after seeing @will80sbyers posts about these paparazzi pics, thank you!

[corishadowfang]

            One of the Foretellers had come for Mary’s daughter, today.

            It wasn’t often that they did; most children were sent off to Daybreak Town on the promise of sending money back to their family, or of getting a better future, or because the village had no magic users to protect them and they needed someone.  There were no big ceremonies or flashy goodbyes; there were small farewell parties, sometimes, or tiny little familial blessings, asking that Light may guide them safely and Darkness hide them from all that would do harm.  But a Foreteller had come, for Elaine, for Mary’s little girl, and the town had scrambled to put something together.

            It was—an honor, really.  Mary knew this.  It was why she’d set the table with the finest dinnerware they owned—an old set, heirlooms, from a time when there had been less strife—and asked her mother to help her prepare a large dinner, and had wrung her hands as she’d tried to stay polite and proud and keep her wringing hands underneath the table.

            Master Ava had been a polite and accommodating guest.  Mary had thought, at first, that she’d seemed almost awkward at the attention—but that seemed an absurd thought, when Master Ava was a Foreteller.  Everyone had heard the stories—of the heroes who had risen from a town on the edge of daybreak, wielding weapons borne of themselves and slaying the monsters that had so long seemed impossible to defeat.  She was more than human; how could Mary expect her to feel something so normal as uncertainty?             (She’s young, some part of her whispered—some part of her that could not quite stay quiet—and she did her best to hush the thought.  It was dangerous; she could not afford to think it.)

            “I’ve heard that you’re interested in magic,” Master Ava said, turning her focus mostly to Elaine.

            Mary’s skin prickled, and across the table, her mother shifted, like she wished to interject but thought better of it.

            Elaine either didn’t notice or didn’t care; she beamed, eyes brightening as she said, “Yeah!  I’ve been studying.  Mister Gavin says he thinks I might replace him one day.”

            Mary squeezed her eyes shut.  They are not taking our only mage, she thought, and it was close enough to the truth that she didn’t have to think about the consequences.  Gavin was old, but alive; they would not be left defenseless if Elaine became a wielder.  If anything, this was a better opportunity for her; she would go and train with some of the best mages in the world, and then she could bring back her knowledge here, to fend against the shades that encroached on their borders.

            (Elaine was still losing her baby teeth; Mary could hear the lisp.  She tried not to think about that, too.)

            “That’s good; I’m glad to hear it.”

            “Keyblade wielders are good at magic, right?”

            Mary could not see Master Ava’s face, and it chafed.  “Some of us are.”

            That was a lie; all of them were, compared to the average person.  Most mages trained for years, and even then, they might only be average at best; a newly-fledged wielder could use magic on par with the best almost instantly.  ‘Some’ was only relevant in comparison to other wielders.

            “So if I go with you, I could get better?”

            “Yes.  Good enough to keep your whole village safe.”

            (“You heard about Marty’s kid, didn’t you?”

            Mary hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but she’d stalled, hesitating just out of sight as she’d come to collect Elaine from Gavin’s shop.

            Gavin’s expression had hardened, and he hadn’t said anything.

            “Went off to Daybreak Town—that’s what he said.  Got letters for a while, and then things slowly just…stopped.  They haven’t heard from him since.”

            “I think,” Gavin had said, glancing back toward the shop—toward Elaine, who was still studying inside, “that you’d best stop spreading rumors.  All you’re going to do is scare people.”)

            It was a given, that Elaine would go; Mary couldn’t reasonably deny a Foreteller (even if Elaine was a child, even if they needed as many mages as they could get, even if things were dangerous), and Elaine was too excited to even consider turning down the invitation.  But still, a pit opened in Mary’s stomach as she knelt in front of her daughter, tangling a stained glass pendant around her neck.  It was one they’d made together, and Mary was only willing to part with it because she hoped it would grant her daughter some sort of protection.  “May Light’s blessings fall on you,” she said, because if she said anything less formal, she might sweep her daughter back into her room and refuse to let her go—even at the demands of a Foreteller.  “May Darkness guard you from the eyes of all who would seek to do you harm.”

            And may the Great Heart welcome you, should you find yourself in need of rest.

            She couldn’t bring herself to say the last part.

            Elaine’s nose scrunched, like she thought it was funny that her mother was saying such things, but Master Ava’s hand landed on Elaine’s shoulder and tightened, and Mary, strangely, got the impression that she understood.  “I’ll take care of her,” she promised.

            Mary didn’t know if it was true.  She didn’t think it mattered.  In the end, she still had to watch her daughter walk down the road, bouncing excitedly as she chattered to a stranger in elaborate robes.

            “It’ll be alright,” her own mother said, even if she didn’t entirely sound like she believed it.  “The Foretellers are blessed; they’ll protect them.”

            (They did not hear from Elaine again.)

[dyns33]

Anything goes

I started another Cooper Howard's story and I'll be honest, it's hard for me to complete it, but I'll do my best !

Y/N had become little Janey Howard's babysitter several months after her parents' divorce.

Before that, her father and mother always found time to take care of her when the other was working, or they would entrust her to their governess.

This was no longer possible for Mr. Howard, who had to pay alimony to his ex-wife, while having a lot of trouble getting new roles because of the rumors surrounding him.

It was said that he was close to the Reds, that he was a traitor, even though he was a war hero, and the face of Vault Tech. He would have used this position and his wife's to obtain information and sell it to the Chinese.

Nothing had been proven, but it could explain the breakup, as well as the time it took to find a good babysitter. Many women were afraid to ring Mr. Howard's doorbell, not wanting their reputation to be tarnished, or wondering if the man had other dark secrets that could put them in danger.

There were also those who wanted to get closer to him to get information that they could sell to journalists, or have their names in celebrity magazines.

Y/N didn't care about all that. She needed a second job to pay her rent, she liked children, was discreet, and hadn't really heard about all these stories before Mr. Howard brought them up during their interviews.

Seeing that she didn't understand at all what he was referring to and that she was a trustworthy person, he was ready to give her the job. But first, Janey also had to validate her.

It was love at first sight with this child. Y/N had already babysat, and she had never met a little girl as cute, as lively and as endearing. She only had to say hello and give her her name for Janey to give her the most beautiful smile in the world, asking if she wanted to play with her and her dog, Roosevelt.

"I would need you on Wednesday afternoons, weekends and sometimes for several days but I will let you know in advance. Does that suit you ?"

"Perfect, Mr. Howard."

"Cooper, please. My father was Mr. Howard. Unless it makes you uncomfortable, I would understand. And if someone bothers you… Tell me."

At first, Y/N thought he was talking about his fans, his detractors, the paparazzi. Indeed, there were quickly new rumors, claiming that they were having an affair. Maybe even before the divorce, when they didn't even know each other at the time.

It took several months for Cooper to admit to her that he was mainly talking about the Vault Tech employees. He had signed a confidentiality agreement, in order to have the right to continue seeing his daughter and so he couldn't say anything concrete, but he knew things. They weren't nice.

"They might contact you." he told her while pouring himself a drink, after going to see the little girl who was sleeping peacefully. "To offer you money to find secrets or to ask you to leave. Being able to take care of Janey is another condition, and they are good at scaring away the babysitters."

"I'm sorry, Cooper. Don't worry, I'm staying. You'd be lost without me, and I love Janey."

"She loves you too." he smiled, looking at her with sparkling eyes, placing his hand on hers.

Since the divorce, he saw few people apart from his daughter, Y/N and people linked to the small jobs he managed to find, minor roles or entertainment at birthday parties.

There were still a few more or less loyal friends. One of them was Sebastian Leslie. Of course, he was also afraid of reprisals, but he had already sold his voice for the dubbing of all the Mr. Handys, ensuring him a pretty fortune.

His visits were rare, but he came with gifts for the prettiest girl in the world, and flowers for the most patient person ever.

"Miss Y/N, of course, who deserves all our respect for being in your presence so often and not having lost her mind yet."

"As always, you are hilarious."

"I've heard things, but now that I see you, wonderful Y/N, I know it's impossible. You can do much better."

"Thanks, Seb." Cooper sighed, patting Y/N on the shoulder in apology for the nonsense.

She didn't mind people thinking they were together. First, because people were stupid. And most of all, because she wouldn't have minded if it were true. She liked Cooper.

Sure, he was a little older than her, but he was charming. Funny, smart, kind. When they were all together with Janey, they sometimes did activities that made them seem like a family.

But she wasn't family. His marriage had had a difficult end, he had trouble paying her some months, and if he wasn't completely depressed yet, it was because he didn't want to lose his daughter.

It was a surprise when Mr. Leslie came knocking on her door, urgently asking her to follow him, without really giving an explanation. Sweating, worried, he mumbled incoherent things, when he wasn't yelling at his driver to go faster.

Still unclear, he took her arm to put a pitboy on her. Y/N had already seen them on television, or worn by well-dressed, very important, rich people.

"If you're asked, my dear, you are my adorable niece, my only heiress, with whom I insist on living the renovation of the world."

"… What ?"

"I know you're not an actress, but I hope that hanging out with the best of us has helped you a bit in this area. You'll have to be convincing, even if I'll be talking most of the time."

"Mr. Leslie…"

"Uncle Seb. Or Bastien."

"I don't understand anything at all, you don't…"

"Listen to me." he said very seriously, squeezing her wrist. "We don't have much time. They're going to blow everything up. I know Barb is going to take measures for her daughter, I know it. I can't do anything for Cooper, but he loves you very much, so this, I can do for him. At least the little girl will have someone sane to take care of her afterwards."

"What the hell are you talking about ?! Where are Cooper and Janey ?!"

All his attempts to calm her down seemed in vain, Sebastien ended up giving her a sedative, with the help of his driver. No doubt she was transported to the shelter while she was sleeping, put in a hibernation box next to her "uncle".

A very nice robot sounding like him was the first thing she saw when she woke up.

He cheerfully announced to her that she had been sleeping for over 200 years, that her uncle had unfortunately passed away, having woken up long before her, but having left a message for her.

"My dear niece, thank you for your patience and your trust. We always hear funny and stupid things these days, like the fact that I can no longer offer you flowers. But they are growing outside, I hear. And a little girl is waiting somewhere. There are fewer eyes when it's dark."

The message wasn't hard to decode. An apology, first, but mostly the assertion that it was possible to get out of the shelter without too much danger, if she waited for the right moment. Apparently, Janey Howard hadn't been placed in Vault 93.

Getting out wasn't that complicated. In fact, Y/N didn't even have to play the secret agent, she asked Mr. Handy, who passed her request to the overseer, who accepted it without resistance. She was able to take food, clothes and a weapon, before leaving, receiving encouragement from everyone, even if they didn't see who she was at all.

In any case, she was one less mouth to feed.

The real problem was surviving outside, and finding Janey. Y/N was not a fighter. She understood that there had been nuclear explosions, that the world was destroyed, now populated by dangerous creatures and unbalanced survivors.

But there were still good people. A woman showed her the way to Los Angeles, or what was left of it. A man advised her to avoid the North, explaining to her what the Raiders and the Deathclaws were.

And a strange couple offered to accompany them, to prevent her from being killed in her sleep or because of the mines.

Well, the young woman offered, smiling and polite, dressed like the inhabitants of the shelter and wearing a pitboy. She seemed genuinely delighted to meet someone like her, murmuring that it would be a change from her grumpy friend.

The said companion clearly did not come from a shelter. The radiation had dug into his skin. Y/N had heard of them, these ghouls. This one wasn't very talkative, his face half hidden by a cowboy hat, staring at her with a strange, almost shocked look.

"Don't pay attention to him, he's not good with people." said the girl whose name was Lucy. "I don't even know his name. We had a rough start, but he's calm now. We're a team !"

"Oh. Okay. Nice to meet you."

Lucy shook her hand. The Ghoul continued to look at her without saying anything, before continuing on his way. For the girl, it was a good sign, he hadn't ordered her to leave or caught her with his lasso.

Since things had changed, Y/N accepted that this could indeed be good news, but she followed them mostly because she didn't really have a choice.

[toriafiction]

Fae Bound

Jason doesn't know who he inherited his traces of magic from, and he doesn't care. Though weak, it's helpful and has kept him out of some pretty bad situations. It isn’t anything fantastic. He just kind of senses the basic intentions of those immediately around him. Like if someone is dangerous or untrustworthy. It’s nothing specific, but it has saved him a lot of hurt living in the Alley.

If he ever meets whoever he inherited it from, he won't thank them. You never thank a fae, that is admitting that they have done something for you and puts you in their debt.

One night, Jason has a chance meeting with Robin when he is still just a young child, and he knows that he and Dick are meant for each other. It could be fate, destiny, or maybe they’re soulmates. All of that could mean the exact same thing. Jason doesn’t know, and as he gets older, he decides that he doesn’t really care.

Because he knows that he has fallen hard for Dick Grayson.

Too bad Dick doesn’t feel the same.

After the Joker is done with Jason and leaves him to die, Jason is capable of getting out of the warehouse. He even drags his piece-of-shit mother along with him because he is a hero, dammit, and he won’t just leave her to die even if she deserves it.

Just as Jason makes it to the door, it’s like he’s struck by lightning, he knows that somewhere out there in the universe, Dick is also hurt, but unlike Jason, he is quickly dying.

He could survive, but it will be in a universe without Dick, and that isn’t a place Jason wants to be in.

It’s his mother who offers him a solution. She’s dying, and as a last token of apology, she offers him a trade. Jason can stay and die in the warehouse with her, and Dick will live all the years that Jason should have had.

There isn’t a choice to be made.

Jason curls around the woman whom he hates for betraying him and loves for helping him save the one person he loves more than his own life or anything in all the infinite universes. He holds her close in a tight hug and waits to die.

~ ◆ ~ ◇ ~ ◆ ~◇~◆ ~ ◇ ~ ◆ ~◇~◆ ~ ◇ ~ ◆ ~◇~

Elsewhere in the universe, Dick makes an impossible recovery and knows.

He knows that when he makes it home, his Little Wing won’t be there.

It hurts.

It hurts more than he ever believed it could. It’s like somebody shoved their hands into his chest and tore all his insides out and took his soul along with it.

He's cold and hollow, and he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to live like this. Why would anyone make him live like this?!

Dick isn’t even aware that he’s thrashing and screaming while being pinned to the ground by his friends and teammates. He screams and cries so violently he rips his vocal cords, leaving his throat raw and bloody.

Even after he finally goes still and quiet, he cries and cries like he isn’t ever going to stop. Like he is going to shed enough tears for the whole damned universe.

How could Jason leave him like this?

They were supposed to have more time.

They were supposed to have a future together. They just needed a little more time…

[dissociation-station123]

Chapter Seven - Perfect Distraction

Sylus X Reader

Warning - Mention of emotional trauma due to past relationship

“You need more sleep.” Sylus chastises you, both of you sitting at the bar on a Thursday evening. He cups your cheek studying the dark circles under your eyes. You quickly shake away from his grasp, a pout on your face.

“I sleep!” You counter poorly and he rolls his eyes. You huff and take a sip of your drink, sighing contently from the burn as it travels down your throat. Soothing the stress away in an instance.

Sylus clicks his teeth at you in defiance. “You take far too many late night trips to that convenience store. That’s very dangerous.” He continues like a disappointed parent. It is now your turn to roll your eyes.

You go to take another drink and freeze. You begin to process his words, your eyes widen in shock. Sylus has been able to predict your every move and even more so now that you have become close friends.

You begin to search your clothes frantically. “What are you doing?” Sylus asks in confusion, eyebrows raised. He is not comprehending your sudden erratic movements.

“Did you put a tracker on me or something?!” You glare in his direction as you feel the seams of your shirt. Sylus burst into a chuckle at your paranoia. He grabs onto your shoulders to stop you from removing your clothes in the middle of the establishment.

“That is ridiculous. You sound insane.I just know your habits now.” He says so coyly that you get an urge to pinch him. You give him a side eye as you take a drink which only makes his grin wider.

“You guys are so adorable.” The bartender walks over with a bright demeanor and you sneer in her direction. This emboldens him further, scooting his chair closer leaving no space to breath. Wrapping his stupidly muscular arm around your shoulder.

“My kitten is the cutest.” He purrs directly in your ear and your mouth opens in disbelief. You slowly pan your face to glance up at him, “She looks so charming when she scowls at me like this.” The audacity he has when he bops your nose is unfathomable.

“I will torture you slowly. The bliss I will feel when you cry out in agony will be my lullaby.” You grit your teeth yet you knew it would not faze him.

“Yes sweetie, I love when you talk dirty.” He bites his lower lip condescendingly, it’s so damn attractive. You facepalm to avoid staring. Sylus sees this and assumes your defeat he pulls away with an obnoxious laugh.

“Maybe our friendship was a mistake.” You mutter into your hand. Sylus was perceptive and heard every word.

“It's too late now. I gave you a chance to run.” He Grabs your glass and finishes your whiskey with a twinkle in his eyes. “Not my fault you're a fool who fell for my charms.”

You ask the bartender for another and she gladly complies, amused by you both. “It was not your fake facade Sylus. Once I got to see underneath I knew you needed someone. The more we hung out I realized I needed this too.”

Sylus is not expecting a genuine response. He was waiting for a dig or teasing comment in return. His cocky expression dissipates within seconds, he gives you a nod in understanding.

Before he could speak, the bell above the door of the bar chimes, a large group of people walk in. “Looks like a busy night. Want to go for a ride?” He asks and you agree without a second thought.

Since the first ride together this has been somewhat of a routine for when the bar became a bit too crowded. Sylus always recognizes your discomfort and whisks you away on his bike. The ride itself has become less nerve wracking and you have begun to enjoy them.

You both escape the bar, it’s become a habit for him to take your arm and guide you through the chaos and boisterous chatting. You take a relieved breath when you make it over to his motorcycle.

You wait for him to hand you the helmet and place it on yourself, now a bit of an expert. He gets on and you follow, holding onto his waist, gently compared to the death grip you had from the first few times. The tension of the original experience caused by fear has now dissipated.

Sylus leans back into you and turns his head, “Where to?” He asks softly and you honestly don’t care as long as you get to hang out with him for a bit longer.

You lift the visor, “Doesn’t matter to me. Let’s just ride around for a bit.” He studies your face and smiles then shuts your visor.

There was no longer the gnawing tension of riding on what you originally deemed a death machine, but a new form emerged that you are now struggling to push down. Your stomach flips pleasantly when he pats your thighs to signal he is pulling off. You lean into him and your heart races at the heat radiating amongst you.

You remind yourself he is just a flirtatious being, it holds no value. A man like this is not meant for you romantically, someone who struggles with the concept. He deserves a whirlwind of love you're not capable of providing. A kind that is suffocating that drives the couple to the brink of destruction together. A story book of passion.

You are jolted out of your thoughts when he takes hold of your hand and squeezes tightly. A signal you both developed to pull each other from your thoughts, you squeeze back to reassure him your ok, feel his thumb caress your hand in acknowledgement. A friendly gesture of understanding, you repeat it a few times internally to remind yourself.

Your thoughts relax when he pulls onto the highway ramp, and the wind begins to swirl around you as he picks up speed. Your hold loosens even more as you hum at the adrenaline now coursing through your body. You glance up at the night sky, through the smog and bright city lights it’s hard to see stars. You can’t help but to think it’s still a beautiful sight as the scenery flashes by.

You never imagined yourself especially at this age on the back of a Ducati. Yet now that you are you wonder what else you could find yourself doing. The hope that diminished a long time ago makes its way slowly to the surface. You want to push it back down as well but you don’t, instead you laugh, lifting your arms recklessly. Not for too long but just enough to make you light headed at the sensation.

You feel Sylus’s body shake with laughter and you feel a bright smile on your face. He picks up speed and you find yourself giggling like a child.

Way too soon he is pulling up to your building. You slowly dismount and begrudgingly take off the helmet, passing it back to him. “I knew there was boldness hidden inside you.” He grins and you shrug, though you felt proud. “Someone who drinks as much as you do has to have a reckless soul buried.”

“I don’t drink that much.” You counter and he gives you a stern glance. “Ok I should cut back a bit. You're the one who introduced me to the fancy stuff.” You cross your arms.

“So you just do whatever I suggest?” He leans in close, his eyebrows raised, “I have quite a few more.” That seductive tone again, you push him away playfully. He is just a flirt, it’s nothing serious.

“I refuse to go skydiving!” You proclaim physically placing your foot down. He chuckles at you as he gets back on his bike to leave. He turns to observe you standing on the sidewalk.

“Let me cook for you.” He states, something that sounded so harmless. “Come over to my place.” That sounded dangerous and definitely made you give him a second look.

A few minutes pass as he waits for your reply. “F-fine!” You mutter anxiously, the idea of being in his home sounded intimate. You continue to tell yourself that he is simply being friendly. He smiles when you agree.

“I’ll text you the details. Goodnight Y/N.” He started up the bike and you were thankful for the loud roar of the engine. Worried he could hear your heart beating out of your chest, you watch him drive away.

~

Your body is buzzing with overwhelming anxiety as you knock on Sylus’s door. An unfamiliar voice is heard from the other side. “It’s her!! Can’t wait to meet her.” Their voice, playful.

The unknown person opens the door and you are greeted by two masked figures. You jump back in surprise at their outfits. It was not Halloween but their garments had you second guessing yourself.

“So sorry! We don’t mean to startle you. We have to protect our identity. Boss told us to leave before you got here but we couldn’t help ourselves. I’m Kieran!” One of the men holds out their hand, their friendly persona calming you down. You give him a handshake and smile.

“I had to see the person who got the boss to eat at a burger place. I thought he was mess’n with us. I’m Luke!” You wave and he does the same. “It’s an honour to meet the great Y/N in person. The boss is always talk’n” Before Luke could continue there was a loud commotion in the hallway.

You have never seen Sylus in a state of panic before, there is a first time for everything. The large man charges down the highway haphazardly knocking into the wall. His eyebrows drew together anxiously. “Out!!” He shouts at his coworkers.

“Sorry boss!!” The two men say in unison and rush past you with a final wave in your direction. You burst out laughing, holding your stomach unable to stop. Seeing actual terror in his eyes over something so trivial, tears formed in your eyes.

“Are you done sweetie?” His voice is flat as he towers over you in the doorway. His hand resting on the frame, his ruby eyes piercing into you like daggers, yet your giggle persisted.

“I’m— sorry…” you snort as you try to stop but at the moment it is impossible. “The intimidating — haha — Sylus — haha — wait…” You struggle to breathe but it feels good. “Sorry — I was so nervous.” You finally reign in your chaotic chuckle, that felt like a spell was placed on you. When you finally look back up he is smiling with you.

“Laughing at my expense, how cruel. I will have to punish the twins later.” He motions for you to enter and you do. You take off your shoes in the entryway, your mouth gapes from the luxurious interior of his home.

“Please don’t. I was super anxious about coming here and they were very kind.” You turned to face him once you registered his threat. “I also haven’t laughed so hard in a very long time.” You grin and he lets out an exaggerated sigh.

“I’ll let them off the hook then.” He says with faux annoyance as he guides you down the hall. Your head is on a swivel taking in the modern style. In a place like the N109 zone this was a rare sight. “Impressed?” He asks with a sly smirk.

“So much space for one person.” You scowl and he smirks at your sign of contempt. “It’s nice though.” You shrug as you both finally reach the spacious open kitchen. Designer bowls, utensils, and fresh ingredients are set out on the marble countertops.

“If you're done judging my lifestyle, would you mind cutting and dicing a couple tomatoes?” He says coyly as he moves around working to prepare the meal. Soul crushing anxiety returns immediately and with a vengeance, as you walk to the sink to wash your hands.

Familiar words echo in your mind from memories past - You are useless, can’t even boil water right - Don’t hold it like that idiot -You are lucky I put up with you because no other man would

Sylus notices your blank stare, waving a hand in front of your face, holding out a towel. “You alright?” He questions and you nod frantically as you dry your hands. You straighten up attempting to mask your expression to avoid further investigation.

“Yeah of course.” You say and push him away. He chuckles and moves to the cabinet to grab something else. You move back to the counter, look down and scold your shaky hands as you lift up the cutting knife. You take in a breath trying to combat the internal thoughts haunting and harassing you. You grab a tomato and place it on the cutting board.

You swallow heavily and are about to cut when a shadow blocks the light from behind you. “It was rude of me to put my guest to work.” Sylus whispers directly into your ear. You let out a breath you were holding as he wrapped his hand around yours. He gently guides your movements until both vegetables are perfectly sliced.

“That’s it, nice job.” His baritone voice is soothing. A smile forms on your face as you both dice up the tomatoes together. “Thank you for your help. Now…” He sets down the knife and turns you to face him.

Sylus tilts your chin up, an endearing look is hidden in his eyes. “Sit here and look pretty.” You let out a surprised yelp as he effortlessly lifts you up to sit on the counter. “Shouldn’t be too much longer.” He promises while tapping your shoulder affectionately.

You watch him attentively as he moves around the space with concentrated ease. Stirring, chopping, and mixing with keen precision. It felt like a performance. After a while he walks over to you with a spoon. “Open.” He orders and you examine the sauce, the smell is wonderful.

You do as you're told and as soon as it hits your tastebuds you groan. You give him two thumbs up and he chuckles with pride. “Sylus you are something else!” He rolls his eyes and stealthly dabs your nose with the leftovers. “Hey I was being sincere this time!!” You say through a laugh, swiping the sauce and gladly licking it from your finger.

He has you taste test a few other things and then the meal is ready. You hop from the counter enthusiastically. Helping him carry everything to the large decorative dining table. “Is this also where you hold your mob meetings?” You tease surveying how many chairs are tucked neatly into the table.

“Just ignore the bloodstains.” He quips back and you both smirk in unison. You then dig in with no hesitation. You would tell him to open a restaurant but knowing him he probably already owns one. “I love how expressive you are when you eat.”

You look up with a mouthful and go to glare but can read the sincerity on his face. He had told you he envied how easily you were able to display your emotions. A pang of sadness hits you knowing he probably has reasons why he is unable to. A naive part of you craves to see it and hoard them for yourself.

“Why did they push back the wedding? Not that I’m complaining, I was dreading it to be honest.” You ask and feel guilty when his smile fades, replaced only for a second by vulnerability then back to his stoic facade.

“The groom is a doctor and there was an emergency. So they postponed it.” He keeps his voice even as he speaks so to avoid any slip of emotion.

“I was wondering if she changed her mind or something.” You feel awful for what you said, but you craved to see a deeper part of Sylus. So you could help pick him up like he had you.

Sylus frowns, “It would not change anything even if she did.” You study him and watch as his jaw clenches. “She has decided.”

“Good for you.” You respond honestly and boldly. His pride was damaged but not broken. You look up at him and he smiles, his eyes scanning you as always. He must have determined you were being truthful because he nods.

“Thanks for coming Y/N.” He mutters and you now nod. You wanted to reach out and squeeze his hand but there was too much of a distance. You both quickly change the subject and the rest of the night seems to fly by.

In your mind as you both laugh and carry on you think:

I may not be the passionate person he deserves but at least I can distract him for a bit until that person comes a long…

[lyricalt]

promptfic: night

Another fill for fic_prompty, though it's my own request, haha.

tf2, sniper/spy, 'stay the night'

---

“Spend the night,” Sniper suggests, casual enough that it doesn’t seem overtly demanding or strange—like he could have suggested this to anyone.

Spy continues to put on his shirt without faltering. In truth, he feels a little too old and too tired for any sort of deep psychoanalysis on why his jaw tightens at the mere thought. He acknowledges the first truth to himself; he likes the idea. He likes the idea for multiple reasons.

One; he’s already here in the camper. Two; his ass is sore but he’s feeling warm and comfortable besides, and going out to walk back to base is a bigger pain at present. Three; Sniper.

Spy glances at him. Sniper looks like someone who doesn’t have any particular expectations, no hopeful expression or put-upon frown. Perhaps if Spy makes some type of rude comment then Sniper might have a say in the matter, kick him out and have the decision made for them both.

Spy pulls on the suit jacket. There’s a deep bite mark at his shoulder that throbs when he fixes the lapels and does up the buttons. His hands are warm despite the lack of gloves, the feel of someone else’s skin lingering on his palms. He finds that he doesn’t have it in him to be pointlessly mean. Or teasing. Not in the way that would get him kicked out, even as a joke. He drops his hands.

Spy has never stayed the night and, up until this point, Sniper has never asked. There’s a tried and true instinct in Spy to be wary. Sniper’s tone had been neutral, but the question itself sets an alarm bell off in his mind. It makes him imagine the sound of a gun’s safety being clicked off, or a knife being slid out from its sheath. Impending danger. Take caution.

There’s another mercenary instinct in him, more ingrained skill than anything; give an inch, and he’ll take a mile.

Let him stay the night once, and then it’ll be a bigger problem soon enough. Spy knows himself.

So, in answer, Spy simply gives Sniper an exhausted look. One that says, you should know better.

Sniper’s impassive expression frays at the edges. He knows exactly what he’s just given away and admitted to. His eyes go to the ceiling for a quick second, corners tightening, and Spy isn’t at his sharpest to catch whether or not Sniper is disappointed in himself, abashed, or simply rueful.

“Mm. Forget I said anything,” Sniper eventually says, leaning back on the counter. He takes a drag from the cigarette.

A perfect answer, in line with every boundary they’ve established. And yet Spy still can’t leave well enough alone. Give an inch, indeed.

“You’ll feel better about this in the morning,” Spy assures, voice quiet, but the moment the words leave his mouth, he realizes he has made an infringement of his own.

Sniper doesn’t look at him, something miserable in the way his mouth turns with the cigarette held so close.

“Right.”

[telepathiez]

benji remained quiet, his hands folded in his lap as he watched ethan move around the kitchen with ease. he wasn’t used to this—someone taking the time to care for him in such a simple yet intimate way. the scent of warm food filled the place, wrapping around him like something soft, something safe. his fingers twitched slightly against his thigh before he finally whispered, “thank you.” his gaze met ethan’s and for a moment, he felt vulnerable in a way he couldn’t quite point out. ethan wasn’t just feeding him. he saw him, and he wasn’t sure what to do with that. he waited until he was alone before reaching for the plate, his stomach twisting with an unfamiliar kind of warmth. he ate slowly, savoring the comfort that came with every bite, the quiet understanding behind the gesture. by the time he was done, his chest felt a little lighter, but his hands still hesitated over the notepad sitting in front of him.

he pressed his lips into a firm line, gripping the pen between his fingers as he tried to find the words. it felt shameful, putting it into writing—his needs, his wants, the things that had been neglected for so long he barely let himself acknowledge them. they always leave right after. they never stay. they never… finish what they start. and i just have to sit with it. wait for it to go away. for once, it would be nice if they weren’t selfish. he exhaled sharply, his ears burning, his chest tight with something dangerously close to humiliation. setting the pen aside, he forced himself to move, to distract himself. he picked up his empty plate and glass, taking them to the sink to give them a rinse.

Thankfully eggs were something that didn't take a while, which means Benji's comments or dimissive remarks about himself were not going to go unanswered for long. But for the moment he just focused on making those scarmbled eggs, while also getting some toast ready for Benji. Then came the choices of either juice or water, just silently getting to work before Benji would be presented with a plate of scrambled eggs and toast. His options of butter, spread as well as salt and pepper. Topped off with a choice of juice or water to drink.

But before Benji could eat, he'd gently grip his chin and guide his face to look at him. "This isn't even close to how far I plan to go and what you have to offer is being a good boy and doing what you're told right now, alright?" He muttered gently, brushing his thumb against his jawline. "Now, you're going to have your breakfast and then you're going to write down a list of things you want or need that your current job and...situation, do not give you" He instructed, nodding to the pad and pen also on the table. "You're going to be honest with both me and myself about what you write down and I'll be back in just a little bit, alright?" He murmured before giving the man a small kiss. And then he'd walk off, primarily to get changed and freshend up - he had a feeling he had quite the day on him.

[arsonisticartichokes]

Can't let the homies know I hide deep dark secrets (the head cannon that origin trio is all aroace)