#he has a whole thing later and I didn't realize how close it was to a Macaque speech until I. Until I looked at said speech

[thenightshiftstuff]

Help how did Kody become Macaque-coded this was not the intention I promise

[hellsquills]

Do you think Ford knew how old he was when he came back? Because I don't think so.

He's been all around the multiverse, in places that definitely didn't follow the laws of physics of his home dimension. Time works differently depending on the place he lands on, and he never gets used to any of them because he knows he'll have to leave sooner or later.

So time passes. He can feel himself age, of course, but he doesn't know how long it's been since he fell through the portal. When he looks at himself in the mirror, he can see wrinkles paired with new scars, and his hair is getting grayer, but that could simply be a sign of stress. And sure, his body hurts when he wakes up, but he's constantly on the move and sleeping anywhere he can, obviously he's not going to be in the best shape! All things considered, he's a pretty fit man for any age, and whatever years he's been alive for is not his priority right now.

When he comes back home, after his first encounter with Stan, he finally gets a moment to think about his new and old family. His brother looks older, obviously, and certainly different from what he imagined (not that he thought about him often, of course not). His hair is whiter than his own, and he has even more wrinkles than him! Just how badly was he taking care of himself in the... how many years... wait, did he say 30?!

I don't think Ford was necessarily thinking of a higher or lower number. I don't think he expected anything more or less: the way he sees it, it could've been anywhere from 10 to 1000 years. Time was meaningless between dimensions. I think that the sole reminder that time still passed was what got to him.

That shock came full force after Weirdmageddon, when he realized that Stan was his same age, despite the differences in their physiques. It was the fact that they were both around 60 years old, and they had been apart for 40 years. Two whole thirds of their lives. They were supposed to grow old together, maybe not in the same house (or boat), but close to each other. That, paired with how old and worn down Stan looks, Ford can't help but feel like he's now years younger than him, and he hates thinking about it because with the way Stan had been living for the last 40 years, just how much longer- no, stop, don't think about it.

Ford's paranoia turns into hypochondria, but towards his brother. This translates as Ford desperately trying to cut Stan's bad habits (such as alcohol and smoking), making sure he eats well (Ford can't cook for shit) and semi-forcing him to do some exercise. Stan is not on board with these measures, and he lets his brother know just that because he's being bossy and annoying and he would like to enjoy his amnesia in peace please. Ford is as stubborn as a mule, but eventually he gives up and just begs Stan to please consider some of his suggestions because he wants him to be better. Stan still refuses, but every once in a while Ford catches him doing some exercise by himself or ordering a non alcoholic drink, and it makes him happy.

When they return to Gravity Falls, the twins look the most identical they've looked since they were like 10: Stan's eyes have a shine that Soos had never seen before, and his new and improved posture makes him look taller, like the weight of the world had been lifted off of him. Ford, on the other hand, has a fuller face and body, his expression is now softer and somewhat kinder, and he walks much more carelessly, like he's strolling instead of marching.

Ford doesn't care how old he is anymore, because now he's growing old next to his brother.

[oikasugayama]

YOU CATCH HIM M@STURBAT!NG

NSFW, for adults ONLY, MDNI or I'll block you. No idea how many parts this will be. Let me know which BSD men you want to see ;)

pt. 1 Fyodor, Poe, Chuuya | pt. 2 Fukuzawa, Kunikida, Dazai | pt. 3 Ranpo, Akutagawa, Ango | pt. 4 Sigma, Mori, Tetcho | pt. 5 (finale) Atsushi, Nikolai

Fyodor

Walking in on him touching himself is REALLY surprising because he doesn't seem the type to masturbate, in your mind. You straight up couldn't imagine him touching himself until the very second you walked into his office and saw his bottoms around his ankles, his top hiked up around his chest, and his hand furiously pumping over his pale dick.

His head is thrown back, eyes closed, mouth lazily hanging open. You've never seen so much skin on him before. He's PALE pale which makes the brightness of his mouth and tongue and the tip of his cock seem so much brighter.

"oh love, yes, yesss" he moans, and your whole body flushes red with embarrassment and arousal at the same time. You shouldn't be seeing this but you're having a hell of a time turning away from him. You need to leave the room. You need to go. You need to turn around.

"y/n," he purrs, tilting his head and opening his eyes half-way, looking so fucked out and erotic. "do you like what you see?"

You can't formulate an answer, you're standing in the doorway short circuiting, trying to make words but only noises come out

"since you're standing there I thought you might be interested," he says as slow and calm as ever. Even jerking himself off his voice doesn't hitch or raise or speed up and it's honestly really hot right now. "Care to join me?"

"i-i, um... I'm really s-sorry, f...fyodor."

He moans softly biting his lip while still staring straight at you.

"say it again," he purrs. "say my name."

"fyodor..."

"again," he moans, hand working faster.

"Fyodor."

you walk in and close the door behind you.

Poe

You two scheduled a hang-out at his place but despite how many times you knocked on the door, he wouldn't answer...so you try the doorknob, and hey, it's unlocked! You've been to his place many times, you don't mind letting yourself in and don't suspect he'll mind either.

After you put your stuff down and take off your shoes, you register a quiet noise coming from a different room. you sneak closer and realize two things: it's crying, and it's coming from poe's bedroom

you open the door and rush in without thinking. "poe! what's wrong, why are you-- OH FUCK"

you rushed right into him kneeling at the edge of his bed, bouncing on a dildo and not crying, whimpering, moaning.

he calls your name and you can't tell if he meant to moan it but he absolutely moans it and he sounds like a wreck and he looks pathetic and fucked out, and you feel it when he says your name.

"I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have been this, I'm gonna go home--" you say, turning and rushing out of his room. he calls your name after you, multiple times, moaning and moaning and moaning--

you sink down against his front door, still slightly able to hear the sounds of him moaning and whining from his room. you're so horny now, absolutely drenched through your panties/rock hard in your pants. You know you should leave, you know you shouldn't still be here, but he never told you to go, he just kept saying your name...

a few minutes later, after the noises have subsided and the apartment has gotten deadly quiet, his bedroom door creaks open and he slowly peeks his head out. he must be crawling still because he's near the floor.

"[y/n]," he sighs, "I didn't want you to find out like this."

it takes you a second to collect yourself, but you manage to ask "find what out?"

"that i... i think about you... a lot..."

Chuuya

you're on a PM mission with chuuya and several other PM members. you've got to share a room with chuuya, but at least you have separate beds. it's fine. it's whatever. until.

until you wake up one morning--the clock on the bedside table saying it's only 6:23 a.m.--to the sound of a rhythmic slapping, some occasional huffs, a-- a moan?

you sit upright in bed quickly, your head turning toward chuuya's bed.

"are you fucking serious?"

"what" he huffs, and through the tiny bit of daylight creeping through the curtains you can see movement beneath his sheets.

"are you jerking off right now? dude we're sharing a fucking room."

"you were asleep," he says defensively. "not like you noticed yesterday."

"dude!!!"

"get over it, it's fuckin' natural," he says and his voice is getting tight and higher almost like he's biting back a moan or getting close to cumming.

"it's disrespectful when you have someone in the same room, chuuya," you say softer, subconsciously still trying to hear the sounds he's making. you're embarrassed at how intrigued you are

"i'm not stopping you," he says. "you can jerk it too for all i care."

"to what... to you jerking it?"

you can almost hear the smirk in his voice when he says "I never said anything about that, so you thought that up all on your own. is that what you're into, pet?"

[iinthehexcore]

little mouse

Silco saved you in the bar a while ago. It was only fitting that you returned that favor.

content: SLIGHTLY suggestive toward the end, talk of weapons, sequel to 'the last drop', tagging a few of the people who asked for a p2, 1825 words

an: happy christmas to all who celebrate! hope you guys like this, enjoy!

⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

"Hey, Mouse."

You stood up from your crouching position, placing a glass on the bar top. Sevika came in, a lit cigarette on the corner of her mouth as she let out a sigh, plopping down on one of the seats. Over the months, the two of you had became some sort of friends. Now, Sevika was a closed off person to begin with, not trusting you even one bit, but after seeing you work and defend your people, she warmed up to you. Ever since that one moment where you sneaked behind a man to steal back the bottle of booze that he had taken from the bar, she called you Mouse. Silent, but gets the job done.

"Rough day?"

The woman in front of you hummed, inhaling the smoke before turning her head, blowing it back out. Her favorite liquor was already set in a place where it was easy for you to grab. You dropped an ice cube into the glass, filling it up before pushing it her way. She thanked you, downing the entire thing as she groaned.

"Finn wants to meet with Silco today."

You raised an eyebrow, topping up her glass again before screwing the cap back on, placing it on the shelf right beside you. Some of the droplets that had spilled got neatly wiped up with your rag as you tossed it on the counter.

"What does Finn want with him?"

Sevika knew you didn't like the man either. It was something you bonded over. His exaggerated confidence annoyed the both of you, together with his lame attempts on trying to get Sevika on his side, and trying to get you in his bed. You knew not to fully piss the man off though. At least, not without Silco knowing first.

"Can trust you, can't I, Mouse?"

"Sevika," you sigh, "I quite literally cleaned blood off of the tables just so Silco wouldn't know that you beat that drunk guy up. Yes, you can."

She raised an eyebrow, the slightest smirk on her face as she sipped from her cup.

"Heard something about him wanting to overthrow Silco. Wants to be the most powerful Chembaron in Zaun."

It made you roll your eyes.

"He always bites off more than he can chew. He came to you?"

She hummed and nodded, swirling the ice cube in the glass. It made you chuckle as you glanced at the door, seeing the rest of the pub still empty.

"So he is still stupid enough to think you will betray Silco," you sighed, "Finn needs to learn to keep his mouth shut. Not only better for us, but also better for him."

"I just hope he stays away from here. I can't be here tonight - Silco has me out on a job."

You grimaced, squinting your eyes before pouring yourself a glass of water. Silco had told you that you could drink as long as you knew how to handle yourself, but you felt much more confident in being completely sober. You never knew what could happen, not in the Zaun now.

A week ago, Silco gifted you something. He said that it was because you were so good at your job, but little did you know the real reason. The man, though not doubting your skills or confidence, was… scared. With nothing but some glass bottles and a tea towel to defend yourself, he knew you needed something. Thieram had a gun, Sevika had her whole arm, so, for you, he found another weapon. A knife, small and thin, hidden away on your belt. You wouldn't even need to kill someone, no. That was not what he wanted. It simply gave him some peace of mind to know that if something were to happen, you would have something to defend yourself with.

"Thieram and I can keep an eye out," you winked, sipping your water, "Highly doubt you will miss anything."

The small clock next to you made you realize it was already later than you thought. Normally, Silco would have been downstairs right now, sipping a drink before the crowd would get big before disappearing into his office.

"Well, I will see you later, then. Time for Silco's drink."

"Hmm," Sevika threw her head back, gulping down the rest of her drink before wiping her mouth, "See you later, Mouse."

With a glass in one hand and the bottle in the other, you walked up the stairs, knocking on the door before you heard a 'come in'. Behind the door sat Silco, annoyed look on his face. On his desk laid a map and a lit cigar rested on the dish that Jinx had painted for him.

"Care for a drink?"

"Gladly," he groaned.

You quietly closed the door behind you, placing the gold-rimmed glass on his desk. Neither of you exchanged words, but it didn't feel necessary. The liquor splattered against the glass as you filled it up, closing the bottle again and stepping back.

"Expecting any guests?"

"Thankfully not."

"Well… If you need another drink, let me know."

He hummed in return, raising the glass to his lips as you left again. It seemed that in the few minutes that you were gone, the bar had filled up, and Thieram had arrived. He was busy making drinks as you greeted him with a smile, placing Silco's bottle back before pouring glasses.

Half an hour. That was how long you were able to just simply do your job. An odd character here and there trying to flirt with you before drunkenly walking off, drinks spilled, Thieram having to scold some idiots. You smiled at the woman in front of you as you handed her the drink, your gaze falling to the door behind her that opened and closed. In walked Finn, his golden jaw shimmering in the dim light. It made you raise an eyebrow - Silco wasn't expecting anyone today.

Instinctively, you looked to the booth to your left before remembering that Sevika wasn't here for the evening. But, what in the hell was Finn doing here? On his own, too. The man was nothing without at least one person by his side. You wiped the counter, your eyes following the figure as Finn walked up the stairs, disappearing from your sight.

"Thieram, I will be right back."

Your hand reached for Silco's bottle, the other one patting your hip to make sure that you had the knife with you. Maybe Finn was just there being harmless, but when has he not tried to pull some tricks? Worst case you have to pour both of them a drink. And so, after pushing yourself through the crowd, you sneaked up the stairs. No trace of Finn.

Stopping in front of the door, you paused. It was hard to hear if anything was being said as the crowd was rather loud, but you could hear the low humming of Silco's voice. Then, a louder voice, one dripping in forced confidence. You slowly opened the door, bottle held in your hands as if a weapon, before peeking in. There, Finn with a blade in his hand, standing right in front of Silco. Your boss must have been sitting down as you only saw his legs peek out from under the desk, but with Finn puffing his chest, it was hard to see anything.

Softly, you closed the door behind again, sneaking closer and closer.

"Today is the day you die, Silco."

You peeked past Finn's legs, seeing Silco sigh before putting his hand on his head. It seemed like neither men had noticed you. Finn tightened the grip on the blade, a sly smirk on his face.

"That's a risk I've known all my life."

With that, you jumped up, raising the bottle high above your head before smashing it down on Finn's cheek. He let out a surprised gasp as he stumbled to the floor, blood trickling down his eye as you slipped your knife out of the holster, holding it against Finn's neck.

"Day you die, Finn?"

Silco, who already had his hand on the holster of his pistol, looked at you confused, though he knew now was not the time. He cocked it, aiming it at Finn. The loud thuds and breaking glass seemed to catch quite some attention as Sevika burst in, metal arm nearly breaking off the door. She had just finished her job, wanting to let Silco know it was all done, stains still on her metal arm.

There, you on top of Finn with a knife to his throat, Silco with a gun aimed at the very same man, and a blade laying too far away for Finn to reach.

"Sevika, perfect moment," Silco pushed back his hair, his shoulders dropping before pointing to the man on the floor, "Surely you can take care of him?"

It seemed like all her dreams came true as she grinned. Oh, she can. She grabbed him by the neck as you stepped off of him, huffing as Sevika dragged him away. To where? You had no idea, but you did not doubt Sevika's skills.

"Well, well, well, little Mouse."

You averted your gaze back to Silco who only looked at you with what seemed to be an amused grin. He placed his gun back on his desk, one hand on his hip before gesturing.

"Quite a spectacle there. Care to explain?"

He moved one of the chairs back for you before sinking down on his own, taking a hit of his cigar. You sat on the chair in front of him, placing the blade right next to his pistol.

"I wasn't going to kill him. Don't think I could, no matter how annoying he is," you sighed, "I just… You said that there were no meetings today, and Finn showing up when Sevika wasn't supposed to be here seemed like much more than a mere coincidence. I didn't mean to come in without knocking, Silco."

"No," he tutted, "No apologies. I believe in loyalty more than a closed door, Mouse."

He swirled the ice around in his cup, looking at the broken glass and spilled liquor on the wooden floor.

"Such a shame we wasted this on an... idiot like Finn."

You snorted, shaking your head.

"Sorry. If it turned out he was here to make peace, then at least I could have poured you both a drink."

"You know, Mouse," Silco hummed, his fingers tracing the rim of the glass, "I never understood why you were called that. Mouse."

He placed emphasis on your nickname, glancing up at you.

"Sevika called you Mouse, and so did I. Surely there had to have been a reason for it. But now, I have seen it first hand," he nodded, "Didn't even see you sneak in. Finn surely didn't expect it."

You looked up at him, tilting your head.

"I can be quiet if I wish to."

"A handy skill indeed," hummed Silco, placing his glass on his desk, "Care to see how quiet we can be, little Mouse?"

⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

tags: @nottherealamber @sevikashimmerstrap

[obsessiveloveistheonlylove]

Yandere bruce wayne with neglected!daughter reader

Seen a bunch of neglected reader fics recently but I haven't seen one of a Reader who slowly starts to take advantage of the situation and uses batfam for their money and connections so here's this! This only focuses on Bruce for now but if anyone is interested I'd be willing to do some for the other batfam members + hcs for when/if they snap and kidnap the reader. 

Was suppoused to headcanons but ended up more as long rambles than anything lol mainly set up for later posts detailing the situation

Pt1 it got too long, word count ; 2461

Unedited

___

Bruce is absolutely the most susceptible to this behavior, he feels the most guilt about the situation (as he should for being a neglectful father) and he is not going to lie to himself to try and save face and make himself feel better and if he does it's only for a short while before reality slaps him in the face and he has to see the truth. The truth is that there is no one to blame but himself.

When he first noticed your disappearance it had happened slowly… entirely too slow when he really took the time to think about it. You had been gone for a full year and he hadn't even noticed? Were you even old enough to be on your own like that? Something he felt ashamed that he even had to ask. When Alfred informs him that you're nineteen just this month he's shocked not only that you're an adult and that he didn't even realize your birthday had passed but that he couldn't even remember your face. He searches his memories for your Visage but all that he can recall is murky; he can't even remember the correct shade of your eyes or your hair and it startles him how long has it been since he took the time to properly look at you? 

It takes some time but eventually he remembers your face with sudden clarity, he hadn't seen it in a while and the only image he could conjure up was when he first saw you, a small helpless looking child left on his doorstep by commissioner Gordon.  your eyes held the same dull glassy look that his did the night his parents died, you had lost your mom in a similar vein he felt he could relate to at the time. he remembered seeing you and feeling sad for you but not in the way a father does for his child the way he felt was the same way he felt as Batman seeing victims in Gotham streets you didn't deserve this life but you weren't anyone close to him. 

His chest aches and he remembers the way you'd clung to him your first week in the manor and then the way you wilted when he shut that down, it wasn't like he was trying to hurt you but he couldn't have you following him around everywhere especially not when gothams crime was getting out of hand even with the other members picking up his slack. So he reprimanded you, way too harshly now that he looks back on it he knows he only meant to keep you from discovering his secret but he could have worded it better instead he made it sound like you were a burden. Maybe you were to him at the time he thinks and is disgusted with himself for even letting the thought cross his head. 

He reads your diary page after page until he reads through the whole thing. The first few pages are hopeful but solemn detailing how much you missed your mother but you're glad that you have a whole new family and you hope that they will like you, it's heartbreaking to read that kind of childish hope turn into sadness and then hate. You detailed how no one would make time for you that you'd tried everything to get their attention but you'd get blown off by each one it turns into rants about you asking what was wrong with you and why no one ever spent any time with you the writing was scribbled on so he knows you did it in a hurry just to vent out your frustration. The part that hurt most were the pages about him, you had nothing good to say about him in fact in one of the pages you had written that you didn't have much to say about him at all that you hardly knew him and barely saw him once a month and couldn't even call him your father. 

Surely that couldn't be true right? He's not the best father figure by far but he always tried to make time for dick, Tim, Jason, Steph, Damian and Cass ... .surely he did for you. 

He tries to find memories of him being a good father or at least trying to be any kind of father figure to you at all but he can't he can only see the times he rejected your pleas to spend time with you for things he deemed more important than you he sees it clearly each time he rejected you how you got sadder and sadder how you seemed to wilt at each and every rejection until you stopped asking. 

he tries to tell himself that he did it for your protection that he just didn't want to get you involved in the crime fighting scene and since gothams streets were never without crime he spent an exorbitant amount of his time as Batman down in the batcave or out fighting crime with his other children and that's why he couldn't spend time with you. And that's why he seemingly had so many memories with them in the recent years; hell even in the recent weeks he has more memories with dick and the others than he ever had made with you. he tries to use it as an excuse to mask the truth; that you didn't matter in the grand scheme of his life, at least not then but he's going to do everything to make this right.

You'll be surprised to suddenly get a ton of texts from an unknown number even more so when you find out it's from bruce. Suddenly he's asking you how you've been, how was the move, are you in college right now, what major did you take? Obviously you're taken aback when the man who acted like you didn't exist suddenly wants to know everything about you. You would think he'd needed something but you know better than that what could he possibly need with you now? You don't have any money and he wouldn't need that anyways. Maybe he's dying and needs a kidney or something…whatever you don't care that man can rot. 

You leave his messages on read of course, because you don't owe him a response and well maybe to be a bit petty and give him a taste of his own medicine. You don't know how bitter the taste is in Bruce's mouth, he knows you've seen them so why won't you respond? Bruce usually isn't a multi texter but he'll send more and more trying to get any kind of response out of you, he's constantly checking his phone hoping to see three little dots appear and he's noticeably slightly more angsty when out patrolling with the others. 

The texts were annoying but you could mute his notifications and after the first few weeks you basically forgot about the texts going about your normal life until he started calling. It seemed like he was always calling Day in day out, you blocked his number because of how annoying it was but he always just gets a new one leaving the same text “ hey your name its dad” and then the calling would resume. 

One day you pick up and Bruce sounds so relieved when he says your name into the receiver you figure he might really need that kidney if he sounds this excited to see you.

When you answer back he knows you aren't excited in fact you sound completely disinterested in him which takes him by surprise, isn't this what you wanted? What you cried for in your diary begging God that your father would notice you. You're older now so maybe you just aren't looking for that kind of attention anymore, the thought haunts him the idea that he could never truly make it up to you still he pushes through his voice sounding nervous as he starts to tentatively ask about your day. You cut him off with a scoff after some terse conversation telling him to just get to the point already and stop wasting your time. 

The silence is deafening and you almost hang up before he croaks out a response “sorry name, I just wanted to know what you were up to I know we uh.. haven't talked in awhile I just wanted to hear from you and know that everything was alright”  could this really be your father? He sounds so pathetic to you at that very moment, nothing like the confident man you saw on television often nor the man you saw taking care of everyone but you. 

And no nothing was alright you were working a job you hated in some shitty little apartment in Gotham that you had to fear if it would get broken into or not because the damn landlord wouldn't change the faulty locks a rage takes you and you just let it all fall out cursing him for your shitty life and the shitty apartment and for being a shitty father letting all that rage out until you're left heaving.  its silent after your outburst you think he might have hung up but after a moment he offers to pay for a new place and offers to pay your current rent until you can break the lease and that he will take care of you and not to worry about anything financial telling you to quit your job and to send him your bank so he can get things sorted out.  

At first you wanted to vehemently deny this, wanting to prove to yourself that you didn't need him or his help but something In the back of your head tells you to accept it, that if he expects anything back for it then that's his fault for assuming. So you tell him and soon there's a large sum of money in your account more than you have ever had in there. For once you can actually afford to treat yourself instead of eating shitty microwaved ramen, and so you dine out in a nice reasonably expensive restaurant with your friends and you enjoy yourself. 

A week passes in silence and then he's sending you pictures of luxury apartments telling you to pick out any one you want and that he'll get everything settled and you almost can't believe this. Would he actually pay for something so outrageously expensive? You almost doubt it but once your lease is up Bruce is at your door helping you move out any furniture you wanted to keep which was almost nothing seeing as everything was already worn out anyways. 

You didn't say much to him and he seemed to realize you were in no talking mood so he allowed you to be quiet and told you about himself instead talking about the boys and what he'd been working on recently, it feels like what he should've been for you years ago an interaction you'd have killed for when you were fourteen and it just pisses you off so you turn on the radio instead to drown out his words. You don't care how he's doing, you don't want to hear about dick or damian, you're only accepting his help because you're tired of living in that shitty apartment. The ride is otherwise silent except for the annoyingly upbeat pop music which would probably make Damian or Jason have an aneurysm if they had to listen to it. 

The goodbye is  awkward. You can tell Bruce wants to come inside and talk more but you thank him for helping you move in the furniture and shut the door. 

He buys you new furniture without you asking and sends it in by the second week you're in the apartment. You don't realize that he stalks your posts and that he saw one of you complaining about the lack of good furniture.

Life has never been better for you, you live in luxury and can go on shopping sprees literally whenever you want and Bruce sends you a random stream of cash whenever you start to get low and you're definitely not going to look a gift horse in the mouth not when you enjoy every luxury you are afforded. 

Life is good until a certain black haired prick starts inserting himself into your life and this time it isn't bruce, nope it just had to be your annoyingly bubbly, touchy, and all too friendly ‘stepbrother’ dick grayson.

___

So yeah all in all Bruce has the capability to recognize your strained relationship is all his fault and that he never should have ignored you and how selfish he was to put his duties as Batman above his duties as a father to you. He realized he didn't even try to balance the two. 

And Despite himself he ended up hurting you and neglecting you so he feels he owes it to you to make things right even if 'making things right' entails him buying you a luxury apartment or purchasing the latest phone or new car. The best part is that Bruce will not demand time from you (yet) because of his guilt.  He simply suggests that maybe you should come out with him saying that he planned a whole day for the two of you but the ball is in your court since whether or not you ever accept his invites he will continue to be your cash cow to absolve himself of his guilt. 

It's fun because now you get to watch him wilt everytime you reject his attempts at reconnecting, you get to have your petty revenge watching as a part of him dies inside each and every time you ignore the conversations he tries to start when pulling money out of the bank,  you get to watch how he seems to lose all of his luster when you leave once the cash is in your hands without so much as a thanks. Bruce isn't stupid he knows this dynamic is unhealthy and recognizes it for what it is but this is the only way he can get you to talk to him or to even look in his direction. He has his limits though eventually you will talk to him whether you want to or not 

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

Putting my two cents even tho I got less money then that 🤭🤭🤭

Reader wearing batfamily merchandise like randomly one day reader comes out of their cave wearing a shirt with the family symbol on it and reader is just like "oh yea"

Pookie thank you for your time 🤭🤭🤭🤭!!!!

(Gotta blow the cob webs of this one) LOVE THE IDEA POOKIE!!!

The reader used to get Batfam merchandise because before the whole neglect thing, the reader was a huge fan of the Batfam. They thought the family was so cool, awesome, and fun that they just couldn't help but buy merch related to them. When your dad takes you to Wayne Manor and you accidentally end up in the Batcave, you start jumping up and down with happiness and excitement. YOUR DAD IS BATMAN, THE BATMAN, AND YOUR SIBLINGS ARE NIGHTWING, RED HOOD, RED ROBIN, SPOILER, BATGIRL, ORACLE, AND ROBIN! This feels like God coming down and saying, "Hey kid, out of the billions of people, you're my favorite!" You start to have fantasies of becoming a Robin, only for Damian to shut you down, calling you weak and a liability on the field, while Tim tells you Damian is right and how you have no experience. Jason tells you that you don't have the soul to be Robin, which quickly shuts your dreams down. And don't even think about being Batgirl—Babs tells you you're not ready and suggests you stay a civilian where you can be safe. Later on, you hear how you just can't do things like Cass can or how you don't have the spirit Steph has. Your sister Steph breaks you even more, yelling at you when you bring up the idea of being Robin or Batgirl, calling you naive and thinking that everything is a game, which isn't true. She just won't admit she was just as naive at one point. When you come to Bruce about it, he shuts you down even more, telling you that you're not like the others and that you should give up the silly dream. You're this close to packing your things and going back home, but then again, Mama didn't raise no quitter, so you try your very best, even making your own Robin suit, only to have it ripped right in front of you by Damian, who yells that you're a disgrace to the Wayne name. When you talk to Bruce about it, he goes on about how Damian has been through so much, and you can't hold a grudge. Well, you do after that day. You destroy all your Batfamily merchandise, leaving the manor with a big bag full of stuff. You tell Alfred to drive to some alleyway, where you dump all your things. Alfred pours gasoline into the trash can, and you take a lighter out of your pocket, setting the merch ablaze, watching the fire burn as the old butler holds you and tries to comfort you, telling you that the family doesn't mean what they say. A few weeks pass, and barely anyone notices that your favorite Nightwing hoodie is gone or that you don't have your Batman keychain on your house keys anymore. When Tim goes into your room asking to borrow your charger, he sees that your walls, which used to be filled with posters of the Batfam, are stripped bare. The shelf that had figures of them is gone, and the plushies of them have disappeared. "What happened to them?" he asks, and all you say is, "Oh, I just grew up." Grew up? Grew up? Tim knew that wasn't true! I mean, you watch Bluey for Christ's sake. You didn't grow up. He wonders where it all went until Alfred says you burned them all. He runs to the others with this information, and they don't believe it until they go to that very same alleyway, where they see all the burnt merchandise and the Robin costume you made that Damian destroyed. They realize they need to apologize fast.

[theteablogger]

You may have already noted this, but Andy's claims on twitter about being able to understand what his sparrow is saying (and thus sparrow language in general) seem to be ramping up in unbelievability- apparently yesterday the bird was able to communicate that it didn't want its conversation with other sparrows recorded and shared. Andy makes mention of several of his followers who have apparently been having FaceTime calls with the bird. There's at least 5-6 of Andy's followers who consistently comment on the bird updates and show no credulity, expressing how much they want to be able to communicate with the bird like Andy does. It's probably not the biggest deal, but the whole thing has just been giving me an odd vibe. Feels like Andy once again making friends/followers by demonstrating abilities and knowledge no one else has.

Yes, his allegedly deep connection with sparrows has been getting weird for quite a while. He says he can understand some of their language, enough to relay things that the flock outside his house is talking about and things that Nuggie communicates to him. On top of that, Andy has written about things like Nuggie watching movies and musicals and following every emotional beat, to the point of showing the characters his malformed feet to offer encouragement when they're lacking confidence. Andy is anthropomorphizing the hell out of that little bird. Meanwhile, his followers praise him for knowing sparrows better than ornithologists do.

I've lived with a parrot before, for many years, and I bonded very closely with him. I agree that birds are much smarter and more emotionally complex than most people realize. But they're not humans. Their thoughts and feelings are not exactly like ours and we have no way to know exactly what's going on in their heads. Projecting onto them can lead to misunderstandings of their behavior and needs. Andy seems to be taking good care of Nuggie, from what I can tell--bearing in mind that we only have his word for it--but that doesn't mean he's right about everything.

Here's the thread you mentioned:

Here's Andy in November, writing about Nuggie's "phone flock":

Here's a thread from October, featuring Andy's musings on sparrow language. Friendly reminder that he is neither an ornithologist nor a linguist.

Note that at the end, he specifies that he's not Dr. Doolittle and doesn't speak or 100% understand sparrows' language...but he's still claiming a level of understanding that no one else has.

And here's Andy in August, wishing that he could communicate effectively with Nuggie and then having an actual conversation with him:

Those are some awfully complex ideas for a member of a non-human species to understand and respond to appropriately.

I'm not trying to suggest that Andy is forming another cult based around his bird, but like you said, Anon, it's notable that he is once again positioning himself as someone who has a special ability that no one else has. He's also repeating an old pattern in making himself the sole conduit to communicate with someone who holds a great deal of emotional significance for people. Back in the day, it was any of 160+ "others", and later, the DAYDverse/Harry Potter characters; now, it's a rescued sparrow with a disability, whom a lot of people apparently find inspiring.

[existence-is-a-pain87]

A quick drabble as I try to escape the Writers Block I was trapped in:

They Hear You

Yandere!Self-Aware!Dandy's World x Reader

Warnings: Obsession and other general yandere behaviors, swearing

--☆☆☆☆☆--

They weren't entire sure when the first heard you. Nor were they sure why you were the first one they heard.

At that point, they had all long since become used to 'Players' in the 'game'. Using their bodies and facing against twisteds. Some people played many runs a day. Others used their bodies for 'roleplays'.

They were painfully familiar with all the copies of them that existed. Them being made to say things as their God created more. Tweaked things about them.

They always knew they were never real. But when they heard you?

They felt real.

Oh, so real.

You spoke. Often blabbling to yourself, unaware they could hear.

Even if they didn't remember the day they first heard you, they remember exactly what you said.

"Dang it, everyone's gone... I'm so fucked..."

And all of them heard. Even if many were not on the floor, they all heard.

And then you left. Shortly after dying. But before that,

You kept talking.

Babbling to yourself, asking Finn to leave you alone so you could complete that last machine, and giving up when a blackout occurred.

And when you rejoined the game later?

They heard you again.

--☆☆☆--

Everyone's reactions were different.

Some, like Boxten, were initially skeptical of you. Others, like Rodger, were curious. And even more, like Goob, were excited.

Shrimpo was angry.

How are they able to hear someone now? How dare it be you! HE HATES YOU!! HE HATES THAT HE LOVES HEARING YOU SPEAK, TOO!!

Shelly wondered if you liked her.

But none are as interested in you as Dandy is.

Oh! How she hoped you liked dinosaurs! What's this? You're wearing a dinosaur hoodie for good luck? Wow! You do love dinosaurs! You two would be great friends!

Glisten was surprised when he learnt how much you liked him.

He's your favorite? Well, why wouldn't he be! And look at you constantly trying to stay around his Twisted self. How sweet of you! Don't go leaving him now, though...

What's this about a 'Dandy Run'? Are you trying to ignore him?

He hates it when you don't buy from the shop.

So his stock is bad? He'll improve it! Huh- stop calling him 'Baldicus Baldifer' already!

He's the first Toon that falls in love with you.

The others are quick to follow.

--☆☆☆--

Soon things about your game start to change.

First they're weird, but small. Almost unnoticeable.

Like Twisteds being significantly less aggressive. Targetting anyone else you're playing with, seeming to do anything to avoid damaging whoever you're playing as. And if you do aggro them, they seem to lose aggro almost instantly.

But they do stay close. And never aggro on you when chasing the others.

Once you played Brightney and tried to get the Twisteds to aggro on you instead of anyone else.

It didn't work.

Then the changes get more noticeable.

You mention wanting research for a toon? Suddenly, their Twisted is on the next floor! And the one after that! And they're on there until you're satisfied!

They just want you to be happy.

Do you need a heal? Well, Dandy's shop is now selling both band-aids and medkits! And the next floor has a whole bunch littered about!

They don't want you to go. Go on, speak some more. They love hearing you talk.

You soon started to notice these changes. Often voicing your confusion. Especially when you started to get tons more ichor and research than ever.

Then the incident occured...

--☆☆☆--

It was a day not too different from any other.

But you were complaining about how every attempt at a Dandy Run failed, how you were just desperate to encounter him to complete the unlock requirement for Astro.

And Dandy heard these complaints. And he was annoyed.

Do you hate him? Were you trying to ignore him?

Then he realized it was just your silly little completionist brain.

My, aren't you just a silly thing, dewdrop! Had him worrying there, hehe.

So he decided to solve this little problem for you.

It didn't take long for the entire team you were with to be wiped out on the earlier levels, much to your disappointment. This wasn't even a Dandy Run, just your average Main Hunt.

Just ignore how the Twisteds were all rarer and weirdly aggressive...

And when you remarked about how you were going to die soon, it took everything in Dandy for him not to just jump out and tell you to wait a moment for his surprise.

Then, the elevator opened up to the next floor. And Dandy nearly grinned when the Toon you were playing ceased to move.

The floor was littered in research. Clearly over 100 capsules at least. And roaming past? A Twisted Dandy.

Immediately, he heard you start panicking. Wondering how he spawned despite the fact you were consistently buying things from him.

So you quickly just started collecting research, barely noticing how Twisted Dandy didn't aggro on you. Just roamed nearby. Always staying close.

Then you got confused how this floor had well over 100 capsules of Dandy research. It took one floor for you to have enough research for his trinket.

But this incident weirded you out. You were concerned your game was hacked. You didn't want to get banned.

So you stopped playing.

And they were NOT happy.

Thankfully, they figured out how to reach out to you in other Roblox games.

And Roblox just so happened to have your phone number for voice chat...

--☆☆☆--

The texts seemed to never end.

Questions of why you left. Begging you to return. Offering you anything you want to come back.

You kept blocking the unknown numbers. It didn't stop the texts.

You thought you were hacked.

And you soon decided to reply to one of these texts once to beg them to leave you alone.

Didn't you like my surprise?

You questioned what the surprise was.

Well, you wanted to encounter my Twisted form, yes?

This isn't Dandy.

Who else would he be other than Dandicus Dancifer himself?

You told them to leave you alone.

Come back to the game first and the texts will stop, dewdrop.

Why should you trust him?

Why shouldn't you?

--☆☆☆--

You returned to the game.

You don't know why. You're desperate and rather not change your phone number or Roblox account.

Even though you probably should've just deleted Roblox.

Oh well, you could just do it after this, couldn't you?

You think they'd let you go that easily?

Upon loading up, you spawned in one of the elevators on a private server you never bought.

They love you.

You had your classic Roblox avatar.

They're not losing you.

You began asking questions, demanding answers from the game.

They love you they love you they love you.

You didn't get a response.

Love love love love love love love love love love love.

They were all in awe.

Because, finally, after so long...

They could see you.

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

BUT, I LOVE IVY.

( 𝖲𝖯𝖮𝖨𝖫𝖤𝖱𝖲 ) !?

pairings ⸺Poison Ivy x Batsis! Fem! Reader

(Slight) Yandere! Batfamily x Anti-hero! Fem! Reader

This is a Headcanon!

sinopsis ⸺ When you left home, your whole life began to take on color. It wasn't an immediate change, more like those afternoons when the sun sets slowly, painting the walls with a golden light. You didn’t have a great job, you were barely getting by with what you earned, and the apartment you found had more cracks than solid walls. But somehow, none of that seemed to matter.

What filled you was freedom, that new feeling of not owing anyone an explanation. And then, there was her. Pamela, with her easy laughter and restless gaze that always seemed to be searching for something, found you. You didn’t know when it happened, but suddenly, she became the center of your small universe.

You didn’t need anything else. Her gestures filled the voids, her presence taught you to enjoy the silences. She wasn’t perfect, nor did she pretend to be. And maybe that’s what captivated you, that sincerity she had when she let her words fall, without disguising them. Life wasn’t easy, but with Pamela, the complications seemed less important, as if the chaos in which you lived became a soft melody, one you only understood when she was near.

After all, you were free, and you had her. And that, you thought, was enough.

warnings ⸺ Fluff, Girls Kissing, Dark Themes, Dead,Religion, murdering, Disturbing Content, Discrimination, Street Fights, Suicide, Violence, Blood, LGBT Content, NSFW, Sexual Content, Smut, Addiction, Trauma, Phobias.

A/N ── Here’s a headcanon of Ivy x S/O because I saw that you liked it, and since things are going to take a darker turn in the next part of Silly Little Bat, there won’t be time for romance and all that, just pure angst. This is a little gift for all your support, and thank you for encouraging me. Marceline loves you ♡

Two hearts on the floor.

One Mine,

Both Yours ♡

When you and Pamela met, you had just left the nest and were trying to become independent with trembling hands but a heart full of enthusiasm. You had landed a job at a nightclub, Super Babes, where the owner, after examining you closely, insisted that you looked like Batgirl. Without asking many questions, you found yourself wrapped in a cape and tight mask. "It's the uniform," he told you with a smile that tried to be convincing. "You'll get used to it."

What you didn't get used to were the long nights, the incredibly uncomfortable heels, and the salary that barely covered rent. No matter how kind your coworkers were and how punctual the boss was with paychecks, the math didn’t lie: sooner or later, you were going to fall behind on rent. The landlord, a man with a furtive gaze and hands always too busy on his belt, only heightened the feeling of suffocation.

The solution came with the idea of finding a roommate. After a couple of failed encounters with people who smelled like trouble or, at best, minor inconveniences, Pamela appeared.

The door opened, and she stepped in with the same calm one has when entering a private garden. She was somewhere between twenty and thirty, although, according to her, "she had just recently been reborn." When she said that, you took it as a metaphor. Later, you would realize that with Pamela, it was almost never about metaphors.

"I like the place" she said, surveying the tiny living room with a smile that seemed charmingly sincere to you.

"It has a view of the... street" you replied, trying to compensate for the lack of natural light with your enthusiasm.

She laughed, and you noticed she had an easy laugh, the kind that makes you feel comfortable instantly. Pamela wasn’t the first to respond to the ad, but she was the first decent person. And also the first to make you feel those butterflies you thought were reserved for novels.

Days passed, and gradually, what began as a quiet coexistence transformed into something more. The work nights became less burdensome when you knew that returning home would mean finding Pamela there, with a cup of hot tea in hand and some ironic observation about life. Her voice, her gestures, began to blend into your routine, and the space between you filled with something neither dared to name.

You discovered several things about her, but never in the order you would have expected. It was like finding a novel written on scattered papers, without a clear beginning and too many endings. You learned about her deaths, yes, those that left her with invisible but deep scars, caused by the betrayal of those she once called companions and, more cruelly, by human hands, those fragile hands that paradoxically carried infinite violence. She confessed to you that this life, the one she shared with you, would be her last. There would be no more resurrections, no more spectacular rebirths under fiery skies or endless vines. This life, she said, she wanted simple, almost vulgar: to be an average citizen, nothing more, nothing less.

And then it was her turn. She also learned things about you. Not everything, of course, but enough to look beyond your sporadic smiles. She knew, for example, that you had been abandoned by your adoptive family, left adrift in a house too big for your small hands. She knew about your degrees, yes, those that hung on the walls like empty trophies. She knew about your skills, those that alternated between the delicate and the violent: the dexterity of your hands, the music that flowed from your fingers, and the echo of combat that marked your skin like a second score. She also knew about your unusual desire: you wanted a bat as a pet, something as solitary as you, something that didn’t need the sun to live. And above all, she knew you didn’t want children, never, because your childhood had been too long a scar, one you didn’t wish to replicate in another life.

You both shared secrets like one drops breadcrumbs in the forest, knowing that in the end, neither would seek the way back.

Summer arrived, bringing with it a warmth on Gotham’s nights that didn’t seem to belong. As if the city, always shrouded in shadows, allowed for a moment the air to be filled with laughter and light-hearted jokes. You went for walks in the park, trying to match your pace to hers while the world continued its course around you, oblivious to the little bubble that seemed to envelop you when you were with Pamela.

But the spell broke, as it often did, abruptly. Two boys crossing the opposite path looked at you with that disdain that can only be understood from ignorance. “Look, more generic lesbians” one said, not bothering to lower his voice. "Damn, the other one looks like her sugar baby." Your heart sank with a dull thud, an echo of old fears that you could never quite bury.

Pamela noticed instantly, her attention as subtle and sharp as leaves in the wind. Without saying anything, she took your hand with a firmness that held you, not just physically, but emotionally. Her smile appeared, scornful, a gesture stronger than any word. She knew, she had always known, that you weren’t quite used to dating girls, much less with boys looking on from their comfortable blindness. She understood that every stranger's glance was for you an ajar door to the past, to that corner where doubts flourished like weeds.

But for Pamela, weeds were just another form of life. And with a gentle flick of her fingers, vines surged from the ground like green serpents, wrapping around the boys' feet and dragging them away without fuss, as if the very earth were reclaiming them.

"Wow" she said with a barely perceptible smile as she guided you toward a nearby ice cream cart.

She bought you an ice cream, one of those ridiculously themed ones, a "bat-cream" that seemed a gentle mockery of the bat that hovered over your life. And as you licked it distractedly, you felt the pressure in your chest slowly fade, swept away by the sweet taste and the comforting sensation of her hand still intertwined with yours.

Christmas was a revelation. Not because it was a holiday in itself— you had always been indifferent to those blinking lights and persistent carols— but because it was the first time you truly felt that love was not merely a concept written in books or whispered in songs, but something you could touch, almost feel, in every little gesture of Pamela, or rather, Pam, or Ivy, as she insisted you call her. And you, with that mix of disbelief and happiness that overwhelmed you, discovered in her something you struggled to find anywhere else in the world: refuge.

That Christmas also came with a kind of unexpected family. Harleen, who had recently left behind the clown prince of crime, appeared one afternoon like a whirlwind of laughter and jokes, treating you like a little sister from the very first moment. "You know, I had a hyena, did I tell you? I named it Bruce. After the hot playboy in the magazines. Is he your dad? You have to introduce me!" she said amidst laughter, and the remark drew a chuckle from you. There was something ironic and sweet about the most chaotic woman in Gotham making those kinds of absurd connections.

Selina was different. Her arrival was stealthy, like the shadow cast by a feline before it strikes, but there was no attack. On the contrary, from the moment she crossed the threshold, she looked at you with an almost maternal softness. "I met your mother," she said at some point during the night while cradling a glass of wine, and you could barely process those words. You didn’t ask more; it wasn’t necessary. In that gaze, you knew everything. Selina adopted you without saying it, with that blend of authority and tenderness that only she could conjure.

And then there was Pamela. Your Pam. Your Ivy. She was the center around which everything revolved. In those cold, bright days, everything in her presence felt perfect, a secret choreography only you could understand. She would kiss you before you left for work, always soft but with the promise of something more, something waiting for your return. And when you came back, there she was, dinner ready, always with a sermon on the wonders of protein and how vicious herbivores were. "They're worse than carnivores" she insisted with a smirk. "Grass-eaters are no better than hunters. Just trust me."

She stayed with you through every emotional crisis without fuss, without grand dramatic gestures; she simply was, and her presence made the shadows dissipate, as if her mere existence in your life was enough to bring order to your internal chaos. And she, for her part, found you fascinating. She adored you, in a way that was almost reverential, as if you were that little Bat she never thought she would love. She called you that, "my Bat," with a mix of tenderness and mischief. She knew you were small, tiny, fragile in appearance, but beneath that shy surface, she found something that intrigued her, a strength that made you unique in her eyes.

"I love you" she told you one night as she watched you from across the room, a barely formed smile on her lips. "You're so shy... but there's something in you that could change the world if you set your mind to it." And it wasn’t an empty declaration. She, more than anyone, could see what others didn’t.

Pamela didn’t just adore your shyness. She adored you, in all your forms, in your doubts, in your small acts of bravery, in every instance you faced the world and returned to her, seeking refuge.

Despite the happiness, Gotham was not always a kind place. During an outing to a music festival, the two of you became the subject of uncomfortable stares and whispers behind your backs.

However, those moments of mockery were followed by nights of hugs and laughter on the sofa, where you both sat together watching movies while you tried to find comfort in the stories of heroines who saved the world.

Life went on, and although there were moments of joy, there was something in the air that was changing. When you turned 19, you began to feel restless. One night, you went out to work, as always, with your heart full of love for Pamela and the promise of a future together. But that night, everything changed. The city was dark, and the fog seemed to have a life of its own, wrapping around you in its icy embrace.

Days and weeks passed. Pamela tried to contact you, but there were no signs of you. Desperate, she began searching for you all over Gotham, consulting her friends, Harleen and Selina. However, each attempt to find you turned into frustration and anger.

When things grew darker, Pamela became hysterical. The idea of losing you consumed her mind. But her methods were aggressive, and every lead she followed turned into a dead end.

One night, in her frenzy, Pamela confronted Batgirl, better known to you as Cassandra Cain, trying to get answers. But her erratic behavior led Batgirl to take drastic measures, and without knowing that Pamela was only searching for her sister, she put her in Arkham. The doors closed behind her, and as she fought against anxiety, the question kept echoing in her mind: where were you?

Fate had played a cruel card. While Pamela faced her own prison, you remained lost somewhere in Gotham, the echo of her name resonating in your mind like a siren's song you could not answer.

On Monday night, there was something different, a pause in the routine that allowed you to breathe more slowly. You had finished early, which was almost a luxury in Gotham. Sitting on the couch, with a forgotten tea on the table and a movie that Harleen had recommended—a romantic comedy directed by Jamie Babbit—you let yourself get carried away by the light dialogue, although you remembered the name of the director more than the plot itself. The dark green nightgown you had found at the bottom of the drawer seemed like the perfect choice for that night of respite, an old lace that had survived the test of time, as if its wear carried with it a hint of nostalgia.

"You dressed to tease me" Pamela had once said, half-laughing and half-serious, when she saw you in that garment that, in her eyes, had a spell to it. The truth was that you hadn’t planned it; that night you just wanted to be comfortable, to sink into the softness of the couch and the lethargy of the movie, but Ivy's words always lingered in the air, as if she knew something that you barely sensed.

You were halfway through the movie when you heard the familiar sound of the door opening. Ivy walked in, and the weariness on her shoulders was visible from the threshold. She moved with that natural elegance she had, but there was something heavier in her stride. Then you saw it, the bruise that hinted at her cheek, diffuse, like a shadow that had misplaced itself. You knew what it meant: another day in Gotham, another confrontation, another battle against something or someone. And yet, she said nothing, as if the pain were part of the atmosphere, something mundane that didn’t deserve to be named.

"Tough day?" you asked, your voice breaking the silence she had brought with her. Pamela didn’t respond immediately. She let herself fall beside you on the couch, her warmth enveloping you instantly. Her eyes, always green and alive, roamed you from head to toe, a spark ignited at the corner of her lips.

"Not more than usual," she finally murmured, with that mixture of weariness and desire you recognized so well. "But you... you make everything feel better." Her fingers brushed the edge of your nightgown, just a gesture, but enough to change the tone of everything in the room.

The bruise on her cheek did not diminish her strength in the slightest. On the contrary, there was something in that small imperfection that made her seem even closer, more tangible, as if for a moment, the green goddess she was had allowed herself to be human too. Her fingers slid down your arm, soft, but with the firmness you always knew would come, like vines seeking to wrap around every corner. The air grew dense, and the movie became a distant murmur, lost among the shadows of the room.

"Do you know you drive me crazy with that nightgown?" she said, leaning toward you, her voice low and husky, as if dragging behind it the echo of a desire she had been holding back all day.

"Like this?" you replied, trying to sound innocent, though the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you. Her hands were already on your waist, drawing slow circles, and the skin under the lace seemed to awaken at the touch, as if that caress were an order your body could not refuse.

Pamela smiled at you, that smile she reserved only for moments like this, intimate, private, where the masks fell away and what remained was just the shared desire. She leaned you toward her, and her warm breath mingled with yours, a barely perceptible space between both bodies.

The bruise on her cheek, the battles of the day, all of that faded when her lips touched yours, soft but urgent, as if in that kiss she wanted to reclaim lost time, the hours when she hadn’t had you close. Her hands moved with an almost mathematical precision, knowing exactly where to touch, where to press, how to make every inch of your skin respond to her will.

"You don’t know how much I needed this" she whispered against your mouth, her voice laden with a vulnerability she didn’t often show. And you, tangled in her warmth, in the weight of her body against yours, knew there was no place in the world you would rather be.

The green nightgown had fallen into oblivion, like words fall away when what matters is the language of bodies, that secret language that is spoken without being said. The whole world reduced to the space you shared, to the softness of her fingers gliding with deliberate slowness, as if each touch were a note lingering in the air. The movie, the hours passed, the murmur of Gotham outside, all dissolved into the present, into the synchronized breathing you shared, into the soft moan escaping your lips when her hands found you.

Pamela knew how to move in your body like someone walking in a garden that belongs to her; every touch was a root seeking fertile ground, every kiss, the rain awakening the dormant within you. Her lips found yours at the same rhythm as her fingers, now beyond any fabric, exploring that intimate space only she knew, that only she was allowed to discover. There was no hurry in her movements, because time, in those moments, always played in favor. Each caress, each calculated pressure, was as if she were tracing an invisible map over your skin, and you, lost and found in her hands, could only respond with the silent surrender of one who neither knows nor wants to resist.

Your legs, slightly apart, invited her to continue, to mark her territory in every corner of your body. The soft brush of her fingers on your swollen lips felt like a promise, a promise you knew she would keep, and your hands, now on her neck, tangled in her red hair, were a call to the depths, to that place where words could not follow. And when her lips parted from yours, just for a second, to gaze at you with that mix of desire and devotion, you knew that in that look was everything you needed to understand.

"Doctor Isley..." you whispered, and in the echo of that name, in the way you pronounced it, there was a surrender she recognized immediately. The smile that appeared on her lips was almost feline, satisfied, as if with that title you gave her something more than your body; you gave her the power to be whoever she wanted to be for you.

"Oh~ I like that," she replied, her voice husky, laden with desire, as her fingers, skillful and sure, began to move with exquisite precision over your core. Each touch, a small fire, each pressure, a promise fulfilled.

The air around you grew denser, as if the heat between you could ignite the room. Your breaths, ragged, mingled with whispers you no longer recognized as yours. You were an extension of her, and she of you, two bodies that recognized each other, that knew exactly how to find each other, how to lose themselves in one another without fear.

Pamela, with her lips tracing your neck, with her warm breath sending shivers down your skin, disarmed you with the ease of someone who has learned to read your silences, to understand your needs before you even did. And you, in that surrender, in that slow but inevitable dance, felt safe.

Her lips, soft as the murmur of leaves in the wind, ventured across your skin, tracing a secret map where each kiss was a promise being fulfilled, slowly, without haste. Each caress, each brush, was a silent pact between two souls that had found each other amid the vast loneliness of Gotham. And you, surrendered, were no more than a whisper in her hands, a murmur that was born and died between her fingers, between her lips.

Pamela descended slowly, with a devotion that made you tremble, her lips drawing invisible paths, leaving a trail of warmth and anticipation that coursed through you entirely. There was no urgency in her movements, only a deep love manifesting in every kiss, in every contact that seemed to say: here I am, and here I will stay. Her tongue, like an echo of her soul, found your core, that hidden place you barely knew yourself, and caressed it with the precision of one who knows every secret of your body.

The first touch was soft, almost reverent, like someone caressing a flower that has just opened to the sun. Your legs opened in an invitation that needed no words, and Pamela, with the tenderness she always had, let her mouth delve into you, exploring with infinite patience. Her tongue, which seemed to paint entire landscapes on your skin, touched you where you needed it most, with that mix of desire and tenderness only she could offer.

Every movement was a symphony, a perfect note resonating in every fiber of your being. Your body, still inexperienced in that type of pleasure, responded with little spasms, as if you were learning to feel for the first time. And amid that joy, amid the sighs and tremors, there was something deeper, something beyond desire: a fondness that enveloped everything, a certainty that in those moments you were hers, and she, without saying it, also belonged to you.

Pamela was not rushing; she knew true pleasure was not just about the body but the soul connecting in those moments of deep connection. Each time her tongue sank into you, each time her lips brushed your skin, you felt something beyond physical pleasure: you felt the love of a woman who knew you, who cared for you, and who, in that moment, loved you in a way you had never experienced before.

Your hands, trembling, clutched at her hair, as if seeking to anchor yourself to reality amid that sea of sensations. And as the rhythm of her caresses increased, as the pleasure grew within you, you knew that in that instant there was nothing else in the world. Just you, just her, and the love unfolding in whispers and soft moans.

It wasn’t just her tongue making you tremble; it wasn’t just the pleasure coursing through you in increasingly intense waves. It was the way she looked at you between each kiss, as if you were the only thing that truly mattered.

Your body shook, and the world faded away in a silent explosion, a cascade of sensations enveloping you completely. There were no words, just the echo of your ragged breathing and the warmth of her mouth still on you, claiming every part of that climax that overflowed you. Pamela, attentive, savored your ecstasy with the same devotion that had brought you there, collecting every little tremor, every sigh that escaped your lips.

Her eyes looked at you with a mix of satisfaction and tenderness, and you, with your heart still racing, knew that this was the closest thing to a confession of love you could have in that moment. Pamela loved you in that shared silence, in the brush of her skin against yours, in the way her tongue had traced a path to the deepest part of you.

But you couldn’t let the moment end just in your satisfaction. With a slow, almost feline movement, you slid between her arms and gently pushed her onto the couch, your hands already seeking the curve of her waist, the firmness of her hips. Pam looked at you with that gaze of hers, always so confident, but in her green eyes, there was a spark of expectation. She knew what was coming and accepted it with the same tranquility with which nature receives the rain.

Without saying a word, your lips found hers in a deep kiss, filled with that mix of gratitude and desire that now consumed you. Your hands roamed her body, learning her contours, every nook, every curve she allowed you to discover. You moved slowly, following the trail her lips had left on you before, but this time it was your turn to make her tremble, to return everything she had given you.

Your fingers glided over her soft skin, slowly stripping her of any barrier that remained between you. And when your lips reached her core, you paused for a moment, just to look at her, to see how her eyes closed with anticipation, how her lips parted in a sigh you already knew. Nothing more was needed than that gesture. You knew, in that instant, that she too surrendered to you, that she too was giving you something deeper than her body.

You began with a softness you knew she would appreciate. Your lips and your tongue traced slow paths, circles that became more and more precise, as you listened to her little moans, feeling how her body relaxed under your caresses. There was no hurry. The only thing that mattered was that moment, the space between you filled with whispers and shared breaths.

Pamela arched her back, her fingers tangled in your hair, and in that gesture, in the tension of her body, you knew you were bringing her closer to her own limit. And though there were no words, though the silence was only broken by her sighs, love was there, in every touch, in every slow movement of your tongue that made her tremble more and more.

"Y/n..." her voice was barely a whisper, as if saying your name were the only thing she could do at that moment. You needed nothing more. It was the signal you had been waiting for, the last vestige of control she was handing over to you, trusting, surrendering.

You continued, deeper, slower, taking her to that place where words no longer made sense, until finally, with a tremor that coursed through her entire body, Pamela let herself go. Her breathing became erratic, her back arched one last time, and then, amid that silent explosion they shared, you knew that she too had arrived.

When you finally pulled away, you slowly moved up, leaving kisses on her still warm skin, until you reached her face. She looked at you with that tenderness she always had, and without needing to say it, she made you understand that in that instant, in that space of love and pleasure, it was just you and her.

Just you and her in the world.

A/N ─── Bro, it’s super long, don’t mess with me 😭. It’s my first sapphic smut, have some patience! Honestly, I could have made it longer, but I was in panic mode like “Is this too much already?” and I freaked out, haha. This is my little gift for those who ship Poison Ivy x Reader (Silly Little Bat) because, spoiler alert, something not-so-nice is coming soon 👀💔. So enjoy while you can, because things are about to get intense... you better thank me! 😅

Don’t forget, if you want to request something, the shop is open!

Take a bath!

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 44

(Grim is considered to officially be the Human's child and is granted the same protections by the various countries as the Human would be. As he is a Hellcat, he has a special place in the hearts of the Shrouds who all adore the kit and feel at peace when spending time with him. Hellcats typically grow up with the Shinigami that takes them in and they form lifelong bonds with those Shinigami. They believe- due to how young Grim is- that he is imprinted on the Human as his parent, but could still bond with a Shinigami. Idia desperately wants to be that Shinigami.)

Warnings: yandere, multiple yanderes, monster au, stressful feelings, poor health, sickness, mention of menstrual cycle, anxious yanderes being next to useless, mention of menstrual cycle, Harpies, Shinigami, yeti, Hellcat, mention of others as a whole

~~~~~~~~

Waking up slowly in a nest not made by your own hands and surrounded by beasts that craved you like a drug addict craved their next high was an increasingly familiar and disquieting feeling. Grim was a lifeline in your heart and the stress you carried for his well-being was as heavy as lead shoes. Everything felt exhausting and as if the world weighed far too heavy on your shoulders.

If anything, it felt like you were about to be sick.

Removing yourself quickly from the tangled mess that was your nestmates was not as difficult as getting past those quickly rousing nestmates to your bathroom. There wasn't even enough time to close the door before you were hunched, entire body heaving and expelling everything inside of your stomach. Unfortunately, as it had been a while since you last ate, it was mostly just stomach acid.

Your entire body ached and felt as if your skeleton were far too heavy, to the point that your muscles just couldn't attach to it properly. Even as you shook and whimpered from the rolling force in your stomach, you stayed hunched over your toilet, trying to not continue heaving and gagging. From where you crouched, you heard constant voices overlapping as a low hum seemed to fill your ears enough that you cried out in agony from all of the sounds.

Your cry was followed by a heavy and deathly silence in the room beyond. The silence was better than the cacophony of sound that had been prior, your head continuing to throb and dully ache. If there were any footsteps beyond your little bubble, you didn't hear them. Instead, you slowly rocked yourself back and forth with a soft whining sound as you tried to self soothe.

As you rocked your body slowly you realized the silence was lasting longer than it usually would. Slowly, a cold hand rest on your back. It was far larger than the hands of Lilia or Malleus, so you had to guess it was likely one of the Shinigami given how cold the figure was.

"Little One, try to breathe for me."

Papa Hades.

Of course. Only Lilia had dealt with Humans before and that was limited given their scarcity, so they called for the one who was more equipped to deal with such things. Lucky for you, the elder Shinigami was in the dorm and had been for at least a week.

Despite things calming down around you for a few days following everything that happened with Vil, you had been feeling worse and worse. Part of you understood you were unwell and physically ill, the other part of you was busy silently cursing everyone for the sheer stress you had been experiencing for more than a month at that point. In fact, the week you were going into was supposed to be the beginning of your cycle again, so you would need those reusable pads sooner rather than later.

You felt something cold touch your forehead and leaned into it, loving the icy cold touch when you felt so exhaustively warm. It was nice enough you even tried to follow the hand as its owner moved away somewhat. Seeing your instance for the cool and cold feeling, Papa Hades left his large hand across your forehead.

"May I move you to your nest, or would you like to brush your teeth first?"

"... Brush."

"Alright. Let's get you up. Steady now."

The large Shinigami moved his hands under your arms before he gently lifted you to your feet. You felt shaky, but the steady hands of the elder kept you upright as you laboriously lifted your arm to brush your teeth and remove that awful taste in your mouth.

"Come, let's get you back to resting."

"My classes..."

"You don't need classes right now. I feel you need rest. Actual rest. Not taking classes, cooking, dealing with Overblots, weapons training, and parenting. Rest. Now, may I help you back into your nest or can you walk?"

"... Help..."

"Happily."

Getting back into the nest was easy when you were cradled like a child on the broad shoulder of the elder. It was as if you weighed nothing to the ancient man that looked no older than forty, cuddled up to the chilly body of the man who actually gave a damn about how you felt. He was gentle setting you down into the bed and pulling the covers up around your shoulders, resting his hand against your forehead one more time. This time, the cold lasted and you felt the ache in your head slowly subside, numbed and cooled by the frosty touch.

"There. Now, I am going to go get you something to drink that will be gentle on your stomach. You will be resting here and I will be making sure you stay resting. Alright?"

"Not going anywhere anyway..."

This relaxed the Shinigami as he turned to the wide-eyed group of students staring at him in absolute confusion. They needed guidance, and he was going to guide them right out of the room so you could rest. It didn't take more than a look from the elder to compel the worried males all out of the room, one large hand scooping up the worried Hellcat kit as he went.

The moment the door closed, you slowly closed your eyes and let sleep overtake you.

~•§•~

The moment the door closed, the questions began in rapid fire. Six males trailing after their elder and all of them talking over one another in concern.

"Lord Hades, what's going on?"

"She's unwell. I have no doubt it is a result of stress. She has been through quite a lot in a very short amount of time. Humans may handle it better than we can, but even they have limits."

"Is she going to die?"

"I will do everything I can to prevent that."

"That wasn't a 'no'!"

"Humans can die of a lot of things. Truly, I'm astounded she hasn't fallen ill before now with all of the exposure she has had to illnesses her immune system is not resistant to. I don't think she will die from this, but if she keeps being put under such endless stress, she will break."

"How do we help her?"

The Shinigami stopped, turning around to face the group that continued to prod for information. He couldn't blame them for being stressed, he was extremely stressed by the situation but was trying not to show it. Still, that didn't mean they were helping any.

"Help her by leaving her alone for now. She needs sleep. She needs time for her immune system to work. She needs privacy. She needs fluids. Gentle company is good and the mental stimulation will help, overwhelming her while she is trying to sleep will make her health degrade faster. Let her rest for now."

The group continued to follow the Shinigami down the stairs, not unlike a group of ducklings trailing after their parent. Sitting with confused looks at the set table were the other Shinigami, the five Heartslabyul guards for the week, the Yeti Clay, and Vil's father Eric. Idia was first to notice something was wrong and he was quick to stand.

"What?"

"Illness. Fluids."

"Got it."

The awkward Shinigami may be shy and hide around others, but he was no stranger to recognizing stress in his own ancestor. They all saw that crease of worry in his brow and they all knew only the Human could cause such concern. That meant they should all be concerned.

"Is mama going to be okay?"

"She will be. We just have to make sure she rests."

"Okay... You better make my mama feel better, got it, Sad-Guy?"

The ancient man laughed, a short barking sound of a chuckle as he nodded.

"Yes, sir."

This seemed to placate the kit who smiled in return as the elder set him down on the counter top. It seemed little Grim was taking after his mother in many regards, especially in her quick readiness to fight for others. Idia was quick to get an armful of drinks and presented them to the elder to sort through and decide which would be best for the Human they all adored.

"Tell me how to help."

The Yeti stated, walking over with his arms crossed and worry in his eyes. He wasn't alone either.

In the few days Eric had been staying in the run down dorm, he had come to several conclusions. His first conclusion was that the Human Vil adored so much was a wonderful and kind-hearted creature that deserved all the kindness he could muster. From her unusual and lasting patience to her willingness to care for everyone including himself. That kind of inherent kindness and affection even among strong personalities like Vil told Eric what a genuine soul the Human truly was.

Secondly, Eric saw how desperate Vil was to be around this Human however possible. From choosing to share his resting place- something Vil had been exceedingly high maintenance about- to the gentle way he attempted to preen the soft Human. All of it showed just how deeply the beautiful actor had fallen for this widely loved Human.

Finally, that Human needed a parental figure. Many of the professors- from Clay to Divus- had shown themselves to be good guardians but none were actually like a parent figure. Eric felt he could be that figure for the soft Human if he were just given the chance to try.

Now he was ready to aid the decorated Yeti in nursing that soft Human back to health. He had done it before for Vil, he could do it again for the Human. Truthfully, he had been apprehensive of this seemingly pointless Human, but now he felt compelled to care about her and take care of her however possible.

"You both can help by making sure she drinks liquid and stays hydrated. She was quite weak and unable to move easily so I do believe that she may need help in getting around her room. For now, she is sleeping. I will work on adding sugars and other vitamins into her drinks so she does not starve while she is ill. Can I rely on the two of you to follow my example and even teach the other staff to care for her in this state? Young Crowley will need to be informed of this as well."

"Of course, Lord Hades."

Clay and Hades were both leagues above Eric in terms of magic and physical skill. Where Eric never used stunt doubles and he was a skilled actor, he was still acutely aware of the fact that the two were far more adept in almost every regard. He scarcely even believed that he would encounter the two- one a famed hunter and the other being the equivalent of a God- and be considered on the same level as them.

"Very well. I shall be relying on the both of you."

~•§•~

You woke slowly to the feeling of a cool hand upon your heated forehead. Despite how your head felt like it was swimming in a fog and like the room was spinning around you, the gentle cold was a very welcome change. Slowly leaning into the touch, you turned on your side to cuddle into the Shinigami's arm.

"Can you sit up for me, Little One?"

"... No..."

"May I help you sit up? You need to drink something. I will be working on figuring out what you have fallen ill with to synthesize something that should help your immune system fight off this illness."

"... Okay..."

The larger arm slid underneath your back, slowly and gently lifting you into a sitting position. You were vaguely able to register the appearance of Clay and Eric standing nearby as an icy cold bottle was held up to your lips. Each slow and unhurried gulp of that water was crisp and almost had you shaking from the sudden change in temperature. From your stomach, the cold seemed to spread through your body so you were not as painfully overheated while you leaned heavily into the elder.

"I'll leave the rest right here in the nest, so you can drink more when you need it. Tell me, Little One, would it be alright if Young Clay and Young Eric aided me while we care for you?"

"... Sure."

You didn't really care what you were agreeing to as you leaned back into the hold of the Shinigami, eyes sliding shut. Though your stomach continued to roll in discomfort, the gentle embrace of the elder against your back had you cuddling into him. Something about the way he always asked your permission was soothing and a true comfort to you. None of the others had bothered to ask you permission or cared much what you wanted in a situation, so the caring nature of the elder was a welcome change.

"... Papa Hades?"

"Yes, Little One?"

"... Will you stay here until I fall asleep?"

"Whatever you need, Little One."

Leaning back into the Shinigami was a peaceful and comforting feeling as you began to drift off again. The room was nice and quiet and you felt more at peace than you had in a while. It seemed the elder was correct; you did not need more stressors and anxiety, what you needed was actual rest. Time spent away from the herd of guards that constantly required you to play mediator and emotional regulator.

Luckily for you, Papa Hades was just the being to bring you that comfort and peace.

As you faded away from consciousness, the three older males felt a kind of endearment for how trusting you were towards them. Your gentle behavior was sweet and set their hearts at ease despite how the three felt stress for you.

Papa Hades felt he was to blame for your sudden illness, or at least he played a part in it. Perhaps he was too hasty to tell you of your addictive nature and by doing so he had pushed your stress to the point of illness.

Clay had been present for such a short amount of time in your life, but he had seen the way you pushed yourself to help those around you. He was aware of your addictive nature thanks to the elder Shinigami and he had been trying to remain a steady comfort in your life. Maybe he didn't intervene enough when he noticed the many young males flocking to you for attention.

Eric barely knew you, yet felt a deep sense of gratitude towards you. That first day he had practically demanded to stay in your dorm- so he could keep an eye on his beloved son- had opened his eyes to how much the others and Vil valued you. Vil had even gone into detail as to what you had done to save his boy's life and he felt that debt needed to be repaid in kind.

The three males watched as your head lulled to one side, the elder helping you settle fully into the nest and cuddle deep under the many blankets around you. Despite your unwellness, they were willing to do what it took to see you healthy again even if they fell ill as a result. Each mentally resolved to do all they could to help you regain your footing but it was going to be an exhaustive week of keeping your admirers at bay.

With care, affection, and a bit of luck, you would recover in full. That was all they could ask.

[tikitakatia]

Escape — A. Putellas x Reader

"The Taste of Champagne"

WC: 4.3k

Summary: Your wife keeps sending you pieces of the past like they’ll make the silence feel whole again. But the present has its own anchor now, even if you still don’t know what to call it.

Pt. 1 , Pt. 2 , Pt. 3

You told yourself you weren’t going to check.

That you were fine.

That people got busy, that not every night had to be a lifeline. That silence didn’t always mean abandonment.

But the silence still sat wrong.

You curled into the corner of the couch, Tofu at your side like an emotional support loaf, and opened the app anyway.

Nothing. No message.

No “you up?”

No metaphors. No poetic confessions. No “dream soft.”

Just the last thing you’d said, still waiting at the bottom of the screen for a reply.

You set your phone down. Picked it up again less than a minute later. Scrolled back through the thread like you hadn’t memorized half of it already.

The dumb jokes. The movie arguments. The softness you hadn’t let yourself feel in months. The feeling of being held without hands and being seen without effort.

You laughed once. Quietly. At a typo from three days ago. Then immediately hated yourself for it.

Because Alexia had texted too.

Ale: I dreamt about you today. You, me, and our little gremlin child. I miss you.

And you hadn’t replied.

Not because you didn’t want to.

Because you didn’t know what version of yourself to send back.

Because every word felt dishonest now.

You kept your phone in your hand. Let it warm your palm while you stare at the app icon like it might blink on its own.

You thought about texting first.

“Hey. You there?”

“I'm sorry if I was too much.”

“Or not enough.”

You typed them all. Deleted them all.

Tofu let out a groan and rolled into your thigh. He didn't care that your heart was unraveling. He was just happy to be touching you. And god, that was the thing. That soft little weight. That simple nearness. It made you realize how long it had been since anyone had made you feel like this without asking you to earn it first.

It used to be Alexia. And now it was a stranger who didn’t even show up tonight. You stared at the blank chat window like it had betrayed you. Or maybe like you’d betrayed yourself by needing it this badly.

You closed the app. Opened it again.

Still nothing.

You poured another glass of wine. Let it sit untouched.

You didn’t cry. You just… folded. Quietly. Like a house without lights. Like something was still standing, but barely.

You fell asleep with the phone still in your hand.

Screen dimmed. No messages.  No dreams.

Just you, and a dog who loved you without knowing what you’d done.

The silence stretched for most of the day.

You didn’t check the app first thing this time. You made yourself wait. Poured coffee. Fed Tofu. Stared at the fridge like it might open a portal out of your body.

The couch felt colder without a new message waiting. You didn’t say that out loud. You answered Alexia’s latest text about Tofu’s vet appointment. One word. Then muted the thread.

By 4PM, you were fully spiraling again. Quietly. Calmly. With the intensity of someone trying very hard to not care.

And then..

Buzz.

[go4goald2]: I AM SO SORRY. I didn´t mean to disappear. Work exploded, I didn't even breathe properly for like 36 hours.

You didn’t realize you’d exhaled until you saw the message and your body unclenched.

[go4goald2]: I missed you. Stupidly. Even though it’s just a screen. Is that pathetic?

You smiled.

[lostinthecrowd]: Only if I'm pathetic too.

Pause. Then:

[go4goald2]: Deal! We’ll be pathetic together.

The laugh that slipped out felt like relief. Like letting yourself come up for air after holding it too long.

[lostinthecrowd]: I know it’s dumb but… I was worried. I thought maybe I pushed too far.

[go4goald2]: NO. Not at all. Ugh, never. I wanted to be here. I just couldn’t be.

There was something about that phrasing, “wanted to be”, that sat warm and bittersweet in your chest.

You typed:

[lostinthecrowd]: I’m glad you’re back.

[go4goald2]: Me too.

And just like that, the air in the apartment shifted. Tofu hopped up beside you and flopped onto his back like the drama queen he was, one paw flung dramatically over his chest. You scratched his belly absently, phone still warm in your hand.

You weren’t stupid. You knew this was complicated.

But right now? It was simple.

They were back. And you weren’t alone.

It was late morning, Tofu chewing the corner of a throw pillow when your phone buzzed.

[go4goald2]: Quick: Favorite smell in the world. Go.

You grinned.

[lostinthecrowd]: Clean laundry. Toasted bread. Alexia’s shampoo

You froze. Backspaced.

[lostinthecrowd]: Uh laundry. Bread. Books. Not necessarily in that order.

[go4goald2]: Weak answer, mine’s rain hitting hot pavement. Also, movie theater popcorn. Cleaning products too.

[lostinthecrowd]: You’re such a freak. I respect it.

[go4goald2]: Thank you. Your turn. Favorite feeling?

You thought for a second.

[lostinthecrowd]: When someone reaches for me first.

You didn’t expect to send that. It just came out.

The reply took longer this time.

[go4goald2]: That’s a good one. That’s a really, really good one.

You looked down at Tofu, who had abandoned his pillow and was now curled against your shin. You reached down and scratched behind his ears.

Your phone buzzed again, but this time, not Chattr.

Alexia.

You almost ignored it. Almost.

But the preview caught your eye.

Ale: Check the front door.

You frowned, got up and opened it.

And there it was.

A small box, neatly wrapped in butcher paper. No card. Just your name scrawled on the top in handwriting you knew by muscle memory. You went back to the couch and opened it.

Inside?

An old photo.

The two of you at the beach years ago, sunburned and beaming, your face scrunched mid-laugh, her hand on your back, sunglasses crooked on her nose. One of your favorites. One you thought was lost.

And behind it, folded carefully was a note.

I know I can’t undo the space between us. But I remember this day like it just happened. And I still want to be the person who made you smile like that.

– A.

You stared at it for a long time.

Then your chest cracked open.

You didn’t know what came over you. Maybe it was the photo. Maybe the memory. Maybe the way her handwriting still looked like a promise you weren’t sure you could believe.

Whatever it was, when you started crying, you couldn’t stop. Couldn’t even breathe properly. The kind of crying that feels ancient. Like grief that finally got tired of being patient. Tofu lay down beside you, warm and solid, his chin on your knee like he knew there was nothing to fix, just something to witness.

At some point, the tears stopped. Or maybe you just ran out of them. You must’ve fallen asleep, curled on the couch, the photo still in your lap, the blanket wrapped too tightly around your shoulders.

When you woke, the light had shifted and your phone screen was glowing softly beside you.

Chattr.

Three unread messages.

[go4goald2]: Hey.

[go4goald2]: Everything okay?

[go4goald2]: Kinda worried, you disappeared.

You started typing quickly.

[lostinthecrowd]: Sorry I was gone. Got distracted by a very needy puppy.

[lostinthecrowd]: Also, someone reminded me of a version of myself I forgot. It kinda hurts.

[go4goald2]: Maybe that means it still matters.

You didn’t answer because for the first time in a long time, you weren’t sure who you were supposed to open your heart to.

Later that evening, after the sun dipped low and the apartment turned lavender and quiet, you sent a text to Alexia. Just one.

“Thanks for the photo. I didn’t know you still had it.”

You expected a delay. A simple “you’re welcome” or a heart emoji. 

Instead:

Ale: I almost deleted it once. Felt too far away from who we are now. But I couldn’t. I think I always hoped it would still mean something to you.

You didn’t know how to respond to that. Not really. So instead, you opened the fridge, fed the dog, and sat on the kitchen floor like it was the only place that didn’t feel too full of ghosts.

Later, when your fingers weren’t shaking quite so much, you sent another.

“It does. I don’t know what to do with that. But it does.”

Alexia didn’t reply right away. But she didn’t ghost either. She sent a picture of her hotel dinner tray: dry chicken, too much parsley.

Ale: Can I still be someone who knows how you like your food?

It was the softest thing she’d said in weeks. Maybe months.

You let your forehead rest against the cabinet door behind you, Tofu already half-asleep against your thigh.

And then, because you were already mid-collapse, you opened Chattr.

The screen lit up like it had missed you.

[go4goald2]: How’s your night?

You hesitated. For the first time in a while, you hesitated.

But then:

[lostinthecrowd]: Complicated. But less lonely than it used to be.

You didn't mention Alexia. You didn’t have to.

The guilt was already pulling at your ribcage like an anchor.

But god, it felt easy with them. Still.

[go4goald2]: Tofu still chewing everything you love?

[lostinthecrowd]: Yes, including my will to live.

[go4goald2]: What an icon.

You smiled. You couldn't help it.

Then, half on a whim, half because your chest felt too full:

[lostinthecrowd]: Do you like piña coladas?

A beat.

[go4goald2]: …Getting caught in the rain?

You snorted.

[lostinthecrowd]: God, those two idiots could’ve just talked to each other instead of writing anonymous ads in the newspaper.

[go4goald2]: Maybe it’s easier to be honest when no one’s looking at you.

That one stung a little more than it should have.

But you didn’t say that. You just typed:

[lostinthecrowd]: Yeah. Maybe that’s the point of strangers. You get to tell the truth without the weight of history.

There was a pause. Then:

[go4goald2]: But what happens when the stranger starts to feel like the only place that feels like home?

You stared at the screen. You didn’t answer right away.

Not because you didn’t know what to say.

But because you felt it hit bone.

What happens when the stranger starts to feel like home?

You locked your phone. Set it face down on the couch. And suddenly, it was too quiet.

You got up. Washed a cup that didn’t need washing. Fed Tofu again even though his bowl was still half full. You moved like someone trying not to be found guilty of something that hadn’t quite happened yet.

And then, because your heart was beating too loud and your head was full of words that didn’t feel like yours, you opened the other thread.

Alexia’s.

There was a message waiting. Not a follow-up, not a guilt trip. Just a photo. She was crouched on the curb outside a café, still in her training kit, flushed and tired, her hair half-pulled back and falling out at the sides. She held a coffee in one hand, giving the camera a crooked, almost shy grin. Not the kind she gave to the press. Just the one you remembered. The text below reads “I found the only place here that serves oat milk and didn’t judge me for asking for extra cinnamon. Thought you’d be proud.”

You stared at it longer than you meant to. That version of her, the soft one, the real one, was hard to look at. Because that was the one you’d loved before everything got hard.

Somewhere down the hall, Tofu barked. One sharp, accusatory yelp. You went to check, and there he was on the bed, standing on your pillow like it was a podium, chewing on the strap of your favorite canvas tote bag with the determination of someone proving a point. You sighed and snapped a photo before pulling the bag out of his mouth. Then, without thinking too hard, you sent it to Alexia with the caption: “He’s got your energy, swear to god.”

Her response came almost instantly. 

Ale: So you’re saying he’s our tiny, unhinged child? Because I accept that.

And you laughed. Out loud. Small and surprised.

“He’s feral,” you wrote back. 

“Completely untrainable. He bites my slippers and stares me down like he’s the main character.”

Ale: So me? 

She said, just two words, soft and certain.

You paused. Then typed: Basically.

Tofu returned to the couch like a conquering hero and flopped into your lap, warm and heavy and unbothered. You rested your hand lightly on his back. He sighed like he owned the apartment.

Another ping.

Ale: I don’t want to push you..

Ale: I just miss laughing with you. Like this. Like… us.

You didn’t reply right away. But you didn’t leave either. You sat there with your hand on the back of the stupid, soft dog she gave you, and let yourself imagine what it might feel like to try again.

Not all at once. Not completely.

Just… maybe.

The next morning, the apartment was still. Not quite like emptiness, just calm. Like the kind of silence that comes after the crying is done and the air is finally still enough to breathe.

You didn’t open Chattr right away.

It wasn’t on purpose.

You just… didn’t.

Instead, you made coffee. Not in a rush, not distracted. Real coffee. You even took the time to add a little sprinkle of cinnamon. You pretended like you weren’t sure why.

Tofu padded across the tile, sleepy and dragging his favorite destroyed sock behind him like a war trophy. You let him curl up at your feet while you answered a few emails. Sent a few messages, one of them to Alexia.

She’d texted something small. A picture of a storefront, hand-painted signs and soft yellow curtains in the window. 

Ale: Saw this and thought of you. You used to say you wanted a bookshop with plants in the windows and a dog under the desk.

You didn’t overthink it. Just typed: 

“Still do.”

Her reply came back fast. 

Ale: Maybe one day. I’ll be the one getting distracted and forgetting to charge the register.

You smiled gently, and let the moment stretch. It wasn’t intense. It wasn’t a grand gesture. But it felt… safe. Familiar. Like brushing fingers across something that used to be yours.

Around late morning, your phone buzzed again. Another message from her.

Ale: Please witness this.

Attached was a photo of a small white dog in a violently pink sweater. Hooded and with pom-poms dangling from the ends and a sparkly “PRINCESS” across the back in rhinestones. The dog looked vaguely furious. Possibly plotting something.

You choked on your coffee.

“Tofu’s cousin from the wrong side of the tracks.”

Ale: Tofu’s cousin from the drama school.

“That dog has a diary and writes about the betrayal.”

Ale: They have a publicist and a spray tan appointment.

The laugh that came out of you was too loud and sudden. Tofu startled and made an offended noise, then immediately climbed into your lap like how dare you forget I’m the star here. You scratched his head without thinking and smiled into your mug.

It was easy, that exchange. Stupid and good. And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like you were holding your breath talking to her.

It wasn’t until almost noon that you finally checked Chattr.

The message had come in last night. A quiet ping, nothing dramatic.

[go4goald2]: Sleep well?

You stared at it for a few seconds too long. Then typed:

[lostinthecrowd]: Eventually.

There was no follow-up right away. You didn’t mind.

Later, when Tofu knocked over your water bottle trying to dive headfirst into your laundry basket, you laughed. Not as hard as yesterday. But still.

You picked up your phone without thinking and opened the last thread, not Chattr.

“He’s trying to sleep in the dryer now. This is your fault.”

Ale: He takes after his mother.

You didn’t know which one of you she meant. You didn’t ask.

The day passed gently. Not in a blur, just soft. Tofu snored on your lap during a bad movie. And somewhere in your other inbox, the typing bubble came and went.

You didn’t check it until much later. And when you did, your chest tugged. Not a lot. Just enough to remind you it still mattered. That it still made you feel something.

But today, you weren’t looking for complicated.

Because for the first time in a awhile, Alexia wasn’t making things worse.

It was only hours later that you opened Chattr again.

No wine. No candles. No desperate breath held in your throat. Just Tofu snoring on your feet and the last half of a very mediocre rom-com on TV.

Still, the message was already waiting.

[go4goald2]: What’s your take on fruit in salad. Violently opposed or live laugh love?

You smiled. Automatically.

[lostinthecrowd]: Depends on the fruit. Mango is elite. Strawberries are okay. Grapes are war crimes.

[go4goald2]: I feel like that last one came from personal trauma. Did someone hurt you with a grape once?

[lostinthecrowd]: Maybe someone I loved trusted a raisin salad once and now I have trust issues.

There was a pause. Not long. Just enough to feel like breathing space.

[go4goald2]: I like it when you joke. makes me feel like you’re here with me.

Your fingers hovered over the keys. Usually, you'd have said something dumb in return. Or maybe something soft.

But tonight, your chest stayed quiet.

[lostinthecrowd]: Long day. Sorry if I’m quiet.

[go4goald2]: Don’t apologize. I just miss you a little, that’s all.

You stared at that one.

Because you knew what it meant.

Not big love, not declarations. Just… absence. Noticing.

[lostinthecrowd]: I'm still here.

You meant it. Even if it didn’t feel as loud as before.

Tofu shuffled in his sleep. You looked down at him: messy, needy, entirely your responsibility now, and thought, briefly, about how you´re starting to let Alexia back in.

Not fully.

Not all the way.

But enough that you noticed the difference when it came time to talk to someone else.

The next message blinked through.

[go4goald2]: Tell me something good about today, even if it’s small.

You hesitated. Then typed:

[lostinthecrowd]: A dog in a sweater made me laugh.

You didn’t mention it came from your wife. You didn’t have a reason to.

[go4goald2]: That’s good. I hope it was a ridiculous sweater.

[lostinthecrowd]: It was, had pompoms.

You let the conversation fade after that because something in your chest felt tangled. And you weren’t ready to unravel it yet.

The next day started with a video. A short one, blurry and too zoomed-in, but unmistakably Alexia’s voice narrating the sky. “You always said this was the best part of the day,” she said quietly. “I never used to get it. But I do now.” You watched it twice. Then three times. Her voice was still low and sleepy in the background, not performing, not polished. Just real, it even cracked a little when she said your name.

Then came the photo of the market: a fruit stand draped in fabric, oranges piled high, a dog curled under a chair in the sun. “You’d love it here,” she wrote. “They sell those weird dried apricots you always made me carry in my bag.” You smiled at your phone and hated yourself for it.

Tofu barked at the wall like he’d seen a ghost and then flopped over like he’d solved the mystery of grief. You rubbed the spot between his ears and stared at the screen. Didn’t reply. Not yet.

Alexia followed up an hour later. A selfie. Hair tied back, sunglasses on her head, a little smudge of something across her cheek like she hadn’t noticed it yet. The caption read: Bought a keychain with Tofu’s face on it. I’m either losing it or trying really hard to make up for being the worst. Probably both.

You laughed, quiet and unexpected.

Your thumb hovered. Then tapped out:

“Let me see the keychain.”

She sent it immediately. Tofu’s dumb little gremlin face stretched across a tiny acrylic oval. His eyes looked wild. His ears crooked.

Ale: He looks like he’s about to ask for financial compensation.

You grinned. You actually grinned.

And then immediately felt sick about it.

Because it felt good. Because she felt familiar.

Because it was easy again.

And that terrified you.

You responded slower this time:

“He’s a menace. I caught him dragging a towel into the shower today. He stared me down the entire time.”

Ale: Ha, asserting his dominance. I support it.

You didn’t answer. Not because you didn’t want to. God, you did. But because suddenly, your phone felt heavy. Like two versions of yourself were fighting for the same spot inside your chest.

You opened Chattr.

The last unread message sat there waiting.

[go4goald2]: You good today? Haven’t heard from you.

The timestamp was hours ago.

You locked your phone and set it on the coffee table. Then turned your attention to Tofu, who was currently attempting to scale the couch arm like a mountain goat. You reached out and caught him mid-fall. He blinked up at you like you were the center of the universe.

You wished the decision was that simple.

The message came mid-morning. You weren’t expecting it, not because she didn’t text anymore, she's gotten a little bit better at it, but because this one was different. Thoughtful. Preemptive. The kind of message Alexia would’ve sent years ago, before the silences, before the one-word replies.

Ale: Things are about to get a little busy over here cariño, travel, press, media stuff. I might go quiet for a few days. Didn’t want you to think I was ignoring you.

You sat with it. The softness. The effort.

Then another message blinked through.

Ale: There’s a package on the way. Nothing huge. Just… some things I thought might make your week easier.

You blinked. Stared. Didn’t respond right away. Then:

“You didn’t have to do that.”

Her reply came fast.

Ale: I know. That’s kind of the point.

Later that afternoon, the package arrived. Small and neatly packed.

Inside: A blanket she knew you always stole from her side of the bed that smelled like her. A bag of your favorite snacks, the obscure brand that’s only sold in like, two stores. A new chew toy for Tofu shaped like a dinosaur. A handwritten note.

Just in case the couch gets lonely. And so Tofu stops trying to eat your socks. I love you.

— A. 

Your throat went tight.

You didn’t text her right away. Couldn’t.

Not because it wasn’t kind. But because it was.

Tofu immediately attacked the toy as you sat on the edge of the couch, blanket over your lap, pretending you weren’t unraveling.

You didn’t mean to open Chattr. You really didn’t.

The apartment was quiet again and Alexia’s absence had left behind that weird echo of effort. Her blanket still folded neatly on the couch after you spent hours cuddled in it, the new toy Tofu had already half-destroyed. The note from the package had been tucked away in a drawer like a secret you weren’t ready to let go of, but also couldn’t look at too long.

You told yourself you were just going to scroll. Just going to peek.

But the message was already waiting.

[go4goald2]: Okay, critical question. If you could only keep one: garlic bread or fresh-out-the-dryer hoodies?

You smiled before you even realized it. Your fingers moved without thinking.

[lostinthecrowd]: Wow, cruel and unusual punishment.

[go4goald2]: I never said this game was fair. Pick one, coward.

[lostinthecrowd]: Hoodies, because I can survive emotional starvation but not physical cold.

[go4goald2]: Okay poet, calm down.

You laughed. Quiet and genuine.

Tofu yawned loudly, then climbed into your lap like he belonged there. You reached for your wine and settled in, heart beating a little softer than it had all day.

[go4goald2]: What’s something that always makes you feel better during your tough days?

You thought about it. Then typed:

[lostinthecrowd]: Dumb sitcom bloopers. You?

[go4goald2]: Videos of raccoons stealing food and running away like they know they’ve committed a crime.

That made you snort into your glass.

There was a pause after that. A few minutes where neither of you said anything. Then you typed, slower now.

[lostinthecrowd]: My wife’s trying. Like… actually trying. And I don’t know what to do with that.

Silence.

You wished you hadn’t sent it. You wished you could take it back.

Then the typing bubble appeared.

[go4goald2]: That’s a lot. Do you want to talk about it?

You hesitated.

Then:

[lostinthecrowd]: She sent me a blanket. Some snacks. A toy for the dog. Told me she’d be busy, but didn’t want me to feel alone. And it’s like… All the things I used to need from her. And now they’re here. and I'm just…

You stopped typing. Started again.

[lostinthecrowd]: I'm scared to trust it. I want to. I just don’t know if it’s real this time. And if it is, I don't know what that says about me because maybe I've changed too much to go back.

The response didn’t come right away.

When it did, it was simple.

[go4goald2]: You don’t have to go back. Maybe the person you are now deserves something forward.

You froze.

Because god. That felt like the truth.

[go4goald2]: And whatever happens, the version of you right now? She’s enough. Even if you’re scared. Even if you’re unsure. You’re still someone worth showing up for.

Your eyes burned before you could stop them. You didn’t even know what you were crying for. The effort? The loss? The fact that it felt so good to be seen, and so awful not to know where you belonged anymore?

Tofu snuffled in his sleep beside you. You wiped your cheek and typed:

[lostinthecrowd]: Thanks. I think I needed to hear that.

[go4goald2]: Then I’m glad I said it. I mean it.

You stared at the screen long after the message stopped glowing.

You didn’t know who this person was.

But they made you feel like maybe you weren’t breaking everything by trying to hold both things at once.

Pt. 5

[gazstations]

Trying my hand at little scenarios involving hybrid/shifter!141. I tried to think of different creatures than I've seen for some of the boys, but some were too perfect to pass up. This is probably lame, but here you go...

TW: Quick mentions of breeding/pregnancy, obsessive behavior.

You're a thief that takes more and more risks every time. A sleazy man in a tavern gives you a contract to steal something worthwhile from the supposed dragon hybrid that lives in the mountains. You agree, maybe half a pint too deep.

You journey out into the woods later that week and find a looming cave. It's easy to enter. If you weren't blinded by your determination, you'd realize how suspicious that was.

The place is warm and full of gold, as expected. There are some other random treasures as well. You had never seen a dragon hoard before. It baffles you where someone even finds all of this stuff.

As you're elbow deep in one section of golden items, you hear a low timbre behind you. You happened to visit Dragon!Price right in the middle of his most intense rut.

And being in a rut means he obsessively hoards.

You don't mind if he adds you to the collection, do you? Maybe he'll pin you amongst his trophies and stuff you full of his clutch. He's been alone for a long time.

Safe to say, the news of your "death" spreads through the town when you fail to return from your excursion.

♡◇♡

You're the princess/prince of a struggling kingdom. The king and queen got dragged into a war they could not handle in order to keep their alliance with another neighboring kingdom going.

After the castle suffers from an invasion, your parents plead for the gods to send you protection. You are their only child and heir to the throne, they cannot lose you. They will hold off on making any marriage alliances in exchange for peace as long as they can.

Gaz appears on the steps of the castle one day. He exudes a regal energy and seems to know everything about you instantly as his heartfelt eyes analyze you closely. He's a cross between a lion and eagle, and his wings alone are majestic.

Your parents are overjoyed. The gods must have sympathized with them to send a Griffin hybrid. They take it as good fortune.

They don't seem to mind as Gaz slowly imprints on you. Giving you soft, newly preened feathers. Tucking you under his wings whenever you're exploring. Marking you with his scent in every way.

Griffins are known to protect treasure. And even once the war is over, Gaz knows he's not letting you go.

♡◇♡

Every time someone has died in your village, you see a large black wolf right before. The thing is emaciated, though doesn't seem deterred in the slightest. He's lithe and quick regardless. The village has taken to calling him Ghost.

You often find him prowling the graveyard whenever you go to visit a family member who has died. The pup watches from a distance, and when you end up crying, the canine howls for you. You swear his eyes glow orange in the gloom of the graveyard. For a feral animal, it sure is interesting.

You always try to find his den. It must be somewhere in the premises of the graveyard if he's always there. Your bleeding heart tells you to help the poor stray.

One time, you manage to catch the bastard and he whines the whole way. He nips at the heavy leash you've subdued him with. You manhandle the beast into your little cottage and drag him to the bathroom.

Your bathroom didn't survive the wolf's stubborness.

He reluctantly jumps up onto the bed with you that night, and when you scratch behind his ear he lets out a bitter chuff as he leans into it and wags his tail.

Just don't scream too loud when you wake up to a grown man wrapped around you. He smells oddly like death.

♡◇♡

There's a seal that won't leave you alone. It chuffs and flops on the floorboards of your simple fishing boat, making it rock slightly as you stare the creature down. You're unsure of whether or not to play submissive or be intimidating.

The seal stares at you with big eyes, nostrils flaring as it analyzes you. It doesn't seem threatened, scared, or really anything. It's just one very big seal that lumbers around.

He dives back into the water after a little bit, and you sigh in relief.

But he shows up every time you're out. Blubbered form hitting the deck and glistening under the sun. You grow wary less and less as the visits continue. You even offer him some fish from the collection you already caught.

You, admittedly, become attached to the creature. Not many people can say they befriended a seal.

And the oddly docile animal takes your affection and runs with it.

One day, you wander down to your docked boat in the cove and find a man lounging against the edge. He fiddles with some ocean worn charm as he hums to himself.

The man beams when he spots you. You don't notice the pelt he leaves on the floor as he walks your way.

You arrived in Johnny's life just in time for mating season. At this point, he doesn't care if you take his pelt. He will purposefully "lose" it and have it magically appear somewhere in your belongings.

[you-little-arsonist]

ok so if anyone wants them, here are some buddie fics that have mutual masturbation and/or phone sex in them (don't look at me), idk these are probably pretty well known but i'm still making my way through all of them. they are all complete and they're all rated E because well. also CHECK THE TAGS because i didn't write them all out here!

Your place is where I'd rather be instead by mickeysmyheart/ @mickeysmyheart (3.5k)

The next thing Eddie does, short circuits Buck's brain. Eddie takes his shirt by the bottom and pulls it up and over his head, keeping it bunched up and putting it to the side on the counter. Eddie is now shirtless. He’s shirtless in his kitchen. Oh. OR Buck teaches Eddie how to make lasagna over FaceTime when Eddie gets his shirt dirty and has to take it off and it alters Buck's brain chemistry.

Last night, you called on accident by mickeysmyheart/ @mickeysmyheart (8.3k)

Buck goes back to his bag and pulls out Eddie’s black tank top. He brings it up to his nose and inhales— he can tell himself it means nothing later. He moans on his exhale. Holy fuck. OR The one where Buck finds one of Eddie's tank tops in their locker and takes it home & in El Paso, Eddie brought one of Buck's LAFD shirts with him. You know the GIF.

Kiss me through the phone by mickeysmyheart/ @mickeysmyheart (2.6k)

Buck finds himself sitting up in bed— his back against his pillows— phone close to his ear. His heart is beating like crazy— both of theirs are. “That something you want, Eddie?” Buck says in a low, deep voice. “Want me to tell you how often I’ve thought about getting down on my knees for you?” Eddie’s breath hitches. That’s all it took for Eddie’s dick to get hard as fuck— twitching with the need to be touched. “Jesus, Buck,” Eddie moans out as he reaches his free hand into his briefs, touching himself. OR Buck is bored and Eddie can't sleep so the two end up having phone/video sex

to have and to hold (platonically and heterosexually) by teenytinytomlinson/ @littlefreakbuckley (21.2k)

So in the middle of Eddie’s dining room, with his brain to mouth filter non-existent (as per usual), Buck blurts out, “Marry me.” Eddie sits straight up, looking at him with eyes wide as saucers. “Excuse me?” “W-well, just think about it. If we get married I can add you and Chris to my insurance policy and that solves your problem.” Eddie’s mouth forms a perfect little ‘o’. Buck waits patiently for the floor to open up and swallow him whole. When the ground doesn’t do as he’d hoped he realizes he has to say something else. “Obviously, w-we don’t have to,” he’s quick to assure. “But if we did it would be platonic, of course, because you’re straight and–” he pauses, praying for another rogue stroke of lightning. Anything to put him out of his misery right now. “-and like I know that I’m bi now, but this wouldn’t be like that y’know? It would just be two friends helping each other out.” He’s rambling, the words won’t stop tumbling out. “Like a friends with benefits type situation! E-except you know not those kinds of benefits! Like actual benefits! Health and dental.” or, Eddie is moving to Texas, losing his insurance, and marrying Buck all very heterosexually and platonically.

A Phone Call Away by Ironkissedfanfics/ @ironkissedmage (5.7k)

Buck had his apartment to himself for the first time in months, so of course he had to take advantage of such a lovely opportunity to get off without fear of anyone hearing him. It's just his luck that he butt dials someone while he's fingers deep in himself. And he's just not sure if it's a blessing or a curse that it's Eddie he called.

while i think of you by markofalover/ @markofalover (4.2k)

Just Buck speaking, apparently, is enough to get him hard. His brain starts hurting. Like he’s guzzled down a Big Gulp sized Icee in the summertime. …or, Eddie slowly loses his mind and has phone sex about it.

anyway those are some of the best ones, please tag me if you guys know of more like this! and thank you to all these authors, you are truly doing the lord's work

[technovillain]

the fact that we never have any real conflict inside milla's brain was always weird to me, and that the only trouble you find is not only easy to miss but hard to locate at all.... this prototype with promo images showing party members getting snatched up by the nightmares is really interesting to me...

i was never really a fan of the nightmares' appearance in the milkman conspiracy. that level already has enough going on and the nightmares' presence is completely unintroduced and poorly explained. i'm thinking about how cool it could be if milla's brain had an actual lesson for the kids beyond levitation about the most important thing she learned from the psychonauts, how to focus your mind and maintain a safe mental space via distancing yourself and controlling recurrences of trauma within the brain space...

the same way that sasha's brain is ultimately just a test for razputin, so is milla's. in my first playthroughs of the game i thought that maybe raz had really messed up sasha's brain a little bit, but then i realized overtime that the whole thing is a totally controlled environment. sure sasha is a closed off person, and very straight-laced, but i don't believe that his brain is constantly *that* empty all the time. he gives razputin direct instruction to shut off all the censor valves, which is the thing that causes the problem. it was all a training thing for raz to learn about control, there's even a hidden game line from sasha about the whole thing being a test. i just think that sasha is a poor communicator. his failure to express afterwards that the whole thing was a test was what failed razputin when he meddled in the mind of hollis forsythe, and why sasha's disappointment in him afterwards feels a little strange (like "you let me mess things up in YOUR head and it was okay, how was i to know?")

can you imagine a version of milla's dance party where the party is bumpin and all the campers are having a good time, but the other guests keep slowly disappearing, getting snatched up by the nightmares?? eventually, the other campers disappear too. later on, the room with the "milla's children" vault is presented to you more in the likes of oleander's side room with the little red curtain, where you are obviously supposed to see it, but *not supposed to see it*, and milla still encourages you not to go in there. when you get to the platform with milla at the end, everyone else is missing. she plays "where could they be?" and you find the nightmare room. you have to fight the nightmares to get the party guests back. you find that you can't *kill* the nightmares, however, and you instead put them behind bars.

ultimately the level could end with a similar level of "brain intrusion" as sasha's. like how sasha was okay with you knowing a little about his past, but probably didn't need to *also* show you what happened when he read his dad's mind and accidentally saw his mother in an inappropriate light. like not everything went smoothly, and he was obviously uncomfortable after the level being all "no, let's never speak of this again" like i imagine he unintentionally overshared and maybe messed with his 'image' a little. this version of milla's level could end with her being happy that she taught the kids about meditation through levitation, keeping the bad thoughts at bay but still acknowledging them as part of you, but she didn't like, need you to see that vault about her children being burned alive. because that would be fucked up to show to the kids. and maybe she got a little in that headspace again during the level and 'broke face' and got a little "protect the children!" about the campers in the face of the nightmares, but settles back down and gets back to the party by the end.

i imagine this is how the level would go if it was written more like pn2 levels are written, where every single level has a clear real-world-applicable mental health topic to cover. i still love milla's dance party, don't get me wrong, but it always felt a little anticlimactic or lacking in story compared to the rest of the brains, and these early promo shots just set me off in wondering if they ever intended on there being a lot more conflict in her mind earlier in development.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

eventually

words: 700

warnings: established relationship, college student!reader, long distance relationship, cheating, not a happy ending, wheezie is a queen as per usual, mentions/implications of hooking up but the fic is pretty sfw

“it'll be… it'll be really hard and i understand if you want to break up.” just the words coming out of your mouth breaks your heart.

“is that what you want?”

“what?” you shake your head quickly, moving to sit even closer and taking rafes hands in yours, squeezing them tightly. “i love you. i don't want us to ever break up, but im going to college three hours away.”

“we will just have to go long distance.” rafe raises your joined hands and kisses the back of your hand to your fingers. “im not giving up on the only good thing in my life.”

“oh, rafe.” you pout, launching yourself forward into a tight embrace.

--six months later--

you smile at the email approving you to take your exam early. it's the last one you need and considering you already have a 4.0 in the glass, you don't see it dropping just because you get less time to study.

you quickly close outlook and open up your text messages. as much as you want to tell rafe that you'll be coming home two weeks early, you also really want to surprise him.

hey wheezie girl!! I need your help…

--

“where is he?” you whisper as wheezie let's you into the house.

“in his room.” wheezie also keeps her voice low. “he might be asleep though so i don't know if you want to wait.”

“no.” you shake your head quickly. you just got home and the first thing you did was drive to tanneyhill, you're not sure if you can wait even a minute longer. “i got it from here, thanks girl.” you give wheezie a big hug. “i missed you too, ya know.”

wheezie hugs you back before letting you tiptoe up the stairs, keeping your steps as light as to not wake rafe.

you take a deep breath when you see his door, excitement filling in you knowing he's just on the other side.

you grip the brass handle and turn it slowly, attempting to keep the door from creaking as you step into the dark room.

your eyes take a second to adjust to the darkness, the morning light blocked out by the heavy curtains. you recognize a figure in bed and take a few steps closer, but with every movement, your heart drops further.

the sob rips from your chest before you even realize you're crying, waking rafe instantly.

“baby?” he sits up quickly, his voice frantic. “what are you doing here?”

“baby?!” you squeal. “you don't get to call me baby when there's a girl in your fucking bed!”

the clearly naked girl, gripping the blanket to her chest is now awake and staring at the both of you in confusion, probably some touron who had no clue what she was getting involved with.

“p-please.” rafe stutters, standing quickly. “it doesn't mean anything, i don't even remember her name i just needed to-”

you hold your hand up. “i don't want to hear it. i can't believe you… this is over. we are over.”

you walk quickly out of the room and stumble down the stairs, feeling like the house is suffocating you.

you don't even realize that you bump directly into ward, practically crashing into him and forcing him back into rose.

“y/n, what's wrong?” ward asks just as rose asks you when you got home, the whole family knowing when to expect you.

“what's wrong is your son is a cheater.” you give rafe a glare as he stands at the top of his stairs in only his underwear.

“rafe-” ward growls out. he knows how good you are for his son, he's seen the shift in his behavior since you left.

“baby, i still love you, she means nothing to me! it was just casual-”

you leave the house as his pleas continue, not wanting to hear another word of his bullshit arguments, knowing two years has now gone down the drain.

“im sorry.” you look up to see wheezie standing by your car. “i didn't know for sure but… but i guessed. i know you needed to see it with your own eyes. he went to a party last night and-”

“oh, wheeze.” you quickly give her a hug. “it's okay. ill be okay.”

“you will?”

you don't know the answer to that question, not for certain as you look back at the house, rafe stood in the doorway but not following you as ward lectures him.

“not any time soon.” you admit honestly. “but i will be. eventually.”

sfw taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @ethanthequeefqueen @ladyinbl00d @drewsephrry

[yanderes-galore]

What about a platonic yandere Aegon II with a daughter!reader after B+C?

Fell in love with this idea ON. SIGHT. Broke my own rules on this, my bad. I don't usually do young darlings, but for this it made the most sense. Don't expect stuff like this all the time... but I love the idea of Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond being platonic yanderes to Aegon's Daughter. Unfortunately no Daeron as he's not around during this period.

❗️SPOILERS FOR HOTD SEASON 2❗️

Yandere! Platonic! Aegon II with Daughter! Darling

(FT. Helaena + Aemond - Aftermath of Blood + Cheese)

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Child death/Murder, Blood, Manipulation, Fear of loss, Isolation, Mature language, Targcest (Aegon/Helaena), Medieval gender roles, Toxic family dynamics, Forced companionship.

First of all, let's talk about who you are.

In terms of being Aegon's daughter...

You could be one of his legitimate heirs with Helaena.

That or maybe you could be a bastard from one of his many flings. Perhaps one who later became a cupbearer for him?

Regardless of how... Aegon gets horrible after the death of Jaehaerys.

Before the assassination, Aegon isn't... very invested.

He's paying more attention to his first son, hyping Jaehaerys up as his heir.

He cares for you, but not as much as his first son.

He keeps an eye on you yet you're often with Helaena.

Helaena takes good care of you... even if your father is often busy.

You're well cared for, even as a bastard Helaena doesn't wish to leave you on your own.

Perhaps, as a dreamer/seer, she senses your fate beside Aegon and wants to aid you through it.

Your life is... decent within the Red Keep one way or another.

Things only really go downhill when the Blood + Cheese incident occurs.

Jaehaerys is murdered in the night due to assassins sent by Daemon.

The news is devastating.

Helaena spent the whole night with her mother, holding her remaining children and you in her arms.

You're older than the babe(s) when it all happens, perhaps a young kid (To make it make sense, you can probably age the characters up from canon)

In the morning... your father is furious.

Aegon's screaming at anyone he sees.

Maids, servants, the Small Council, his knights...

Anyone.

Aegon screams about Rhaenyra and her side killing his heir.

One would not think he is a man close to his children.

He only seemed to like Jaehaerys because he was a male heir.

That's what you thought, at least.

Until Aegon kept coming to your chambers.

You were often with Helaena before and after the death of your sibling.

So you were not expecting to see Aegon come in to pester you.

You are his by blood, you are his eldest daughter.

Aegon himself didn't realize how... affected he was.

He didn't know how grateful he was to have you until his son was murdered.

Aegon is a man doomed to lose all of his children in the end.

Perhaps even you.

Helaena knows this well and is worried when Aegon shows a sudden interest in you.

Aegon would get noticeably more... protective of you as his daughter.

He may have no eldest son now, but you're still one of his eldest.

He never lets you out of his sight after the death of Jaehaerys.

Helaena often asks he leaves you alone, but the king never does.

"Oh please, wife... let me see her. I won't cause her any harm."

Aegon drags you to Small Council meetings and shows you to Sunfyre.

He's paranoid yet proud of you, his eldest daughter.

He isn't affectionate at first.

But when Jaehaerys dies, he's suffocating.

The king, your father, holds you close.

During Small Council meetings, he has you right beside him or in his lap.

When his Council asks him to leave you with Helaena, Aegon blatantly refuses.

"Far as you're concerned, this is my daughter and she has the right to sit here."

Aegon would not allow betrothals.

That's one thing both he and Helaena can agree on when it comes to you.

You mean too much to him to be married off.

Even when you're of age he dismisses the thought.

Aemond is no doubt appointed as your bodyguard.

He doesn't trust Ser Criston Cole, said man did nothing when his son died.

Even if you are a woman, Aegon raises you like you're his next heir.

Maelor, his other son, is too young for now.

So, for now, you are his main heir.

If anything threatened you, Aegon is not waiting.

He will order Aemond hunt them down.

That is unless he can kill them himself.

You aren't even really allowed to play with Jaehaera or Maelor at times.

You miss your time with Helaena, your mother...

Now all you really see is your uncle Aemond or your father Aegon.

Sometimes you see your grandmother, Alicent, but Aegon isn't keen on it.

It's strange how Aegon goes from indifferent to obsessive about you.

He sits by you all the time, giving you books and often ordering Aemond to look after you.

Aemond would much rather patrol King's Landing with Vhagar... but he adores holding you in his arms so he can't complain.

Aemond may sneak swordsmanship in to teach you in private, even if you are a lady.

Aegon is irritated about it, but soon allows it.

You must be a strong queen... give Rhaenyra a run for her gold...

A way you could get Daeron involved in this is maybe you get to write him ravens while he's out being a squire.

I know this is primarily meant to be Aegon... but I feel at least most of the other Greens would be involved.

Aegon knows you should have a dragon... yet he hates the idea of something going wrong.

Sure, you get along with Sunfyre... he won't even let you near Vhagar... and Dreamfyre is rarely even with her rider...

You'd be fine with a hatchling of your own... but Aegon would be extra careful when giving you one.

He's already lost his first heir, you aren't dying too.

He's so nervous about losing you.

Even more so when he gets burned in battle.

While he's in pain on his bed, he doesn't stop asking about you once he's coherent.

You're left in Helaena and Aemond's care... but often are sent to visit the burned king.

Aemond doesn't see you as a threat to the throne.

In fact there's times he treats you like his own daughter, teaching you High Valyrian... a language Aegon isn't very proficient in.

Helaena is often showing you insects and singing to you as she holds you close.

When you visit Aegon he is adamant on you cuddling up to his good side, holding you close as he hisses in pain.

His body may be broken at this point... but he loves you dearly.

You are his little princess, his little future queen, he's sure of that.

Even in his bed, burned and helpless, he'll keep you safe...

Helaena and Aemond love you too, after all, not a soul will touch you with The Greens.