#so when i start putting jackets on of my own accord i think it makes my f/os really happy (:

[roboraindrop]

My f/os notice me shivering and are going to tell me to put on a jacket, but they're very surprised when I reach for it on my own (:

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 39 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, VIOLENCE, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

39. pool time  

You float in the pool, cooling off after a day of training. Not so much your body, as your head. 

John yelled at you earlier for not clearing a chamber jam fast enough for his liking–and you are tired of all of this. 

Mariko continues to kick the shit out of you every other day–but you are learning a lot, so you take it. Just when you think you might be earning her begrudging respect–she finds some new way to put you in your place–and on your face.

John drills you at the range and on the speed course, and you didn’t think you were doing too bad, until about an hour ago. But the slide stuck and the spring was tight and the checkered metal hurt your sore fingers and the guns are heavy…you’re over it.

You don’t even want to go to Argentina anymore. You just want to go home. 

The only one in the pool, you swim back and forth aimlessly, underwater and above, changing your strokes every few passes then floating again. 

This situation is wearing on John too. If they don’t show soon…you don’t know what he’s going to do. Something that will probably mean leaving you here, in safety, while he goes off to do what he does. 

Which according to Winston, is starting fires in the Underworld he doesn’t quite know how to put out, without killing everyone. 

The thought of him going on another rampage terrifies you. 

You sense the shadow of someone standing over you at the side of the pool. Expecting John, you right yourself in the water, looking up.

“I did not know the New York Continental boasted its own mermaid.”

So. Not. John.

You immediately sink again in the water, peering up at the newcomer with narrowed eyes. You’re not sure which clue put you on edge immediately: the wolfish way he looks down at you, his elegant yet flashy manner of dress–or his Italian accent. 

You say nothing in return, your heart in your throat. Somehow, you just know. 

“Allow me to introduce myself. Dante D’Antonio.” He squats down at the side of the pool, paying you a cruel little smile. A lock of his dark, curly hair falls down over his forehead; he’s handsome, but there is something missing in his hazel-green eyes as he stares you down. You’ll admit it. He scares the shit out of you. 

“Your fiancé killed my mother.” 

“Prepare to die?”

“What?”

“Sorry, I thought we were quoting The Princess Bride here.”

“What?” 

“It’s good that you’ve come, signor D’Antonio,” you say more carefully, kicking yourself for being a smartass in this world where everyone spoke carefully and in metaphor, because crossing the wrong person could literally mean losing your head. “My fiancé has been getting impatient.” 

“It was never his strong suit, so I’ve heard.” 

“And yet, you harass him. There are a lot of dead people who would tell you that’s not a smart move.” 

He waves you off with a flourish of his wrist. You are so tempted to splash him. “John Wick is an old man whose time has passed. It is a shame, he would involve a pretty little innocent like you in the crossfire.”

You glare at this man, sinking up to your nose in the water. What is he doing here, talking to you?

“D’Antonio.” 

John’s low voice draws you like a beacon. He stands at the other end of the pool, a dark pillar of death. The air positively crackles with tension, and then it dawns on you that this is d’Antonio’s purpose. Rile John Wick to the point of doing violence on Continental grounds, and make him sign his own death warrant.

Again.

You might have missed it once, but now you can see the bulge under John’s expertly tailored suit jacket. You know he’s wearing a loaded Glock on his hip, and that he could end this troublesome young man in about 1.5 seconds.

That would just be the beginning of your troubles. 

You remember what Winston cautioned you, about what John might do to a perceived threat of you. Fuck. 

“John…” you caution, swimming quickly for the ladder that is conveniently situated between the two men, intending to put yourself between them. Dread floods your system, as you fear you’ll be too late.  “Save it for the parlay,” you beg between strokes. 

If Dante d’Antonio was here, surely the others were on their way? It would be madness, otherwise, for the boy to show his face to John Wick?

“Yes, John. Don’t do anything rash,” taunts Dante with a smarmy grin, one hand stuffed casually in his waistcoat pocket.  

It all happens so fast. 

John rushes the kid, closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye. 

Dante balks, clearly not having thought through his life choices, facing down the John Wick with no bodyguards and no weapon to his name. 

You don’t think John actually touches the young man, but Dante manages to stumble over his own Gucci-clad feet in his panic–into the pool, in that beautiful silk suit. 

You watch this transpire open mouthed, half-hoisted up on the ladder. 

John’s iron grip on your arm pulls you out the rest of the way from the pool, snatching your towel from a chair as the two of you power-walk out, draping your dripping form with the soft terry cloth as Dante d’Antonio hurls angry Italian expletives after your retreating forms. 

“Are you going to get into trouble for that?” you hiss, your teeth chattering from the temperature change and the adrenaline. 

“I didn’t even touch him,” defends John, bundling you into the elevator. “What a little bitch.”

You snort at that. You are weightless for a moment, as the elevator rises. 

“Go to the room,” John orders you at the fifth floor. 

“Where are you going?” You try not to sound like a scared little girl, certain you fail. You’re not mad anymore. Just anxious, and you realize, a bit excited. Finally, something is happening.

“To talk to Winston.” 

Of course. 

“Hurry back to me?” 

He presses his lips to yours, then gently nudges you towards the hall. “Always.”

[fashionteahouse]

pack x reader when she told them about girls math 👀👀

🥑anon

ooo okay 💜 hope you enjoy :)

444 + 222 - pack x reader

Two arms were stretched out as the hold was intertwined with a hand of each of you and Sam’s. His legs followed yours as you walked the pavement.

Time ticked as your hand reach on your jacket, the pocket was zipped up still from when you found and put it on.

Your hand idly unzip and stick your hand right on in, just to find something papery. Your fingers smooth over as you pull it out, thinking it could’ve been trash. Pulling it out, money that you forgot that you had in there was staring back at you between your fingers.

Gasping happily, you get Sam’s attention as he shares happiness for your such fortuity.

Walking in the direction of the coffee shop that you have always been meant to go, Sam follows close behind.

Holding the iced liquid in the plastic cup with your hands, Sam could do nothing but shake his head.

"So let me get this straight." he starts as you sip small sips, patiently waiting for him as he processes what you told him.

"Cash is free money because it doesn’t come out of your account?”

“Right.” you answer.

“And it’s because of…‘girl math’.. right?”

“Right.

He then laughs to himself as he caught on.

“I don’t think twelve dollars for an iced coffee is exactly free.”

“But I still have the same amount of money in my bank account. I didn’t have to touch a dime.” you say as you encourage him to understand.

Even though he understood what you meant, he had a kick out of learning the ways of girl math, as he liked to understand the mechanics behind it. After all, you were just a girl.

Paul's ears heard your stomach growling as the engine of the car growled, wheeling both passengers.

Admitting that he's hungry as well, you both pull to a stop.

Retrieving the food that you asked for, you ripped the strips of chicken as Paul watched carefully as he chewed his own food.

“Should I ask what you are doing?” he asked.

“Instead of ten pieces, ripping them in half gives me twenty.” you state and you shuffle them a bit to show off the point at hand.

“So, just bite them.” Paul says but you explain to him how it’s the same.

“According to what?” he asks.

“Girl math.” you tell him.

Plucking one of the pieces up, he places it in his mouth and chews.

You gawk at him a bit as you wave his hand off, “You have your own.”

“Girl math gave you twenty pieces. You can share.” he teases.

The receipt was in Jacob’s fingers as he stared down at the thin white slip. He shakes his head in disappointment.

The hang of the newly bought sweater was in your procession as you were waiting for him to tell you what he called you for. You were dying to try the sweater on to see how it would look as you build an outfit with it.

“I thought you said you were going to work on saving money?” Jacob asked, he was excited the moment when you told him this.

You roll your eyes playfully as you say, “What do you mean, I did save money.”

“How? I cannot wait to hear what you have to say.” Jacob says after asking for clear understanding as he glanced at the receipt and back to you.

At the end of the reason how you saved money by buying something on sale, he still has a look of confusion.

“You sure there’s no error in girl math?” he asks.

You scoff a bit as you then tell him, “Wait until I tell you that returning an item is another way of making money.”

He was impressed a bit. Words couldn’t be formed from him when you really were making your money right back. It wasn’t like the profit wasn’t coming back to you. He understood such logic.

Embry didn’t understand why you agreed to another side gig.

“This means I will see you less.” he says somberly.

“No it won’t. It’s just girl math.”

His ears were in tuned by your lips telling him how if you work another side job, you would be able to give yourself everything that you want.

He wasn’t too sure how to feel about it.

“Do you think your girl math will allow me to still be around you?” he asks.

“Of course. It’s always accurate.” you reassure him. If you were confident in it, he was confident in it.

Your phone buzzes as you press the green button to answer Jared’s call.

“Hey are you okay?” he asks on the other line.

“Yes, I’m okay.” you told him.

“Where are you? It’s kinda noisy in the background.”

“At the mall.”

“The mall? I thought that you said that you were taking a walk?”

“I am taking a walk.” you say in confusion.

“Like you told me you were going to the gym.”

“Yeah, I figured I take my walk at the mall.” you say with a quirk as he chuckles.

“Where’d you get that idea from?” he asks.

“It’s not an idea. It’s a lifestyle. It’s girl math.” you say as you pass a shop that had the strong scent of perfume wafting under your nose.

Jared agrees that the treadmill is too stagnant.

“And it’s cold inside of the mall.” he comments.

“See, you get it.” you smile into the phone.

Floating down the steps, Quil was shocked when he took in your appearance.

“You’re ready already?” he asks.

Today, you didn’t need to take long. You were able to get ready in 20 minutes, the immaculate managing of your time. Not having to change your routine, the day was off to a good start.

“Yeah.” you ask him. You’re capable of making him say,

“How is that possible?” he asks as he grabs the car keys off of the hook.

“Girl math is just being able to get ready in 20 minutes but also in 3 hours depending on how much time I have. I have the exact same routine.” you explain to him as you both walk down the driveway.

Silence soared as both feet walk along the pavement to get to the vehicle.

“What?” Quil asks as he tried his best to keep a mind on how to understand.

“It’s not that complicated.” you huff as he opens the car door for you.

“I don’t think Einstein would be able to solve it.” he tells you.

“He’s not a girl.” you smirk and say.

“Okay, you got me there.” Quil says as he clicks in his seatbelt.

Seth thought it was smart. Not much explaining was needed. It reminded him the unexplainable things that Leah did. Catching onto the system was like counting by 2’s.

“So, that’s what girls call it.” Seth says in his head, feeling like he is the founder of newfound discovery.

“It’s free. ” you say to Seth as your mother was buying a nicely made coat.

At first he was a bit confused, “How is it free? Your mom’s paying for it right?”

“She’s paying for it. She’s going to end up letting me borrow it, so basically she bought it for me and her.” you say happily.

“Ohhh. That is true.” Seth says as he nods and you both come to great understanding.

[vinvantae]

Unmasked

Part 5/16

<<<previous part

Word count: 3.2k

Google translated French - English translation at the end

The winter break was never much of an event for you - being distanced from your family, most years you ended up alone. But this year, for some reason, Charles had insisted you came to spend Christmas with him and his family. It wasn’t part of the relationship contract, in fact, they had given you both a week break but when he found out you were going to be spending it home alone, he simply couldn’t accept that.

As much as you were nervous, you were more than happy to spend more time with Charles. The time you’d spent with him since the break started was the most fun you’d had in years and you were finally starting to form something real with someone for the first time since you joined F1. But with that, you had also started to notice how flustered he could make you with a simple touch, a simple look. He treated you better than anyone had, and you knew he was just fulfilling his part of the faux-relationship, but sometimes, just for a moment, you’d forget it wasn’t real.

But the line was blurry. When the two of you were alone, it was almost as if the show was still on - that you still had something to prove. You weren’t really sure who started it, but more than once you’d kissed in the privacy of your own flats - whether it had just become instinctual since your kiss at the club or not, you weren’t sure but a kiss goodnight or a kiss before leaving the room just seemed to happen. After you had kissed him that night, Charles found it harder to resist you than before, his boyish crush turning into something more real. He wanted to make you happy, fake relationship or not.

“Nearly ready to go?” He asked, watching you do a lap of your flat - doing a mental checklist in your head of everything you needed to take with you to his family home.

You paused. “I think so. I just feel like I’m forgetting something.”

“I’m sure if you have, it’ll be something you can borrow or we can buy you when we get there.”

“I know you’re right but… I think I’m just a little nervous.” You admitted. “I feel guilty lying to them.”

Charles came up to and wrapped his arms around your middle. “Hey, when the time comes to explain, they’ll understand. Besides, spending time with you makes me happy and that’s what is most important to them. It’ll be okay.”

You nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug - the driver leaning down a little so you could bury your face into his neck. He ran his hand up and down your back to help relax you.

“Let’s go.” You sighed, grabbing your bags - waving away Charles when he tried to help, not wanting him to have to carry extra. “Just a heads up, since we’re sharing a bed, I’m a fidget.”

“If I hold you will you stay still?” He chuckled, pressing the button for the elevator.

“Maybe.” You laughed softly. “My human straight jacket.”

He helped you load your things into the back of the car, insisting you at least let him do this since he wasn’t allowed to carry your bags down before rushing past you to open your car door for you. You playfully rolled your eyes before sliding in, relaxing back into the seat. Charles climbed in beside you, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze before starting the car.

“Ready?”

You took a deep breath. “As I’ll ever be.”

The Monaco native gave you a calm smile before pulling out of the parking lot and beginning the small trip to his family home. You propped your elbow up on the open window, and enjoyed the sights as you were driven through the city. It was a surprisingly warm December morning too, with a pleasant breeze running across your skin. The biggest downside, or upside according to your PR team, was Charles’ car was probably the most recognisable in the country.

So practically every time you went out with him, you inevitably got photographed. Which was annoying because it meant you always had to put more effort in than you wanted to - not wanting to look like a slob in comparison to Charles who somehow always looked amazing. You were stopped en route by some fans asking for autographs and photos from Charles. Thankfully he passed on photos but was happy to do some autographs, that didn’t stop a fan filming the whole interaction.

“Do you ever get tired of that?” You asked, as he finally managed to pull away from the small crowd that had formed.

He smiled softly and shook his head. “As long as it’s out in public I don’t mind. They are my biggest supporters, I like being able to repay them… even with something as small as that.”

“You’re a good guy, Charles, I hope you know that.”

He simply smiled to himself and gave your thigh a gentle squeeze before eventually, finally, pulling into the drive of his mother’s home. You could already see that Arthur and Lorenzo had arrived so the two of you were last - great. You hadn’t even realised you’d stalled in getting out of the car until Charles had opened your door for you.

“We’re here, Cherie.” He hummed, offering you his hand to help you out.

Your cheeks flushed a little as you slid your hand in his, letting him guide you to your feet. He gave your hand a squeeze before walking to the trunk to get your bags out.

“Charles!”

You watched as Charles’ face looked up over his car and then broke into a grin before turning to face the direction of the voice. Pascale had heard you pull up and was coming outside to embrace her son, giving him a tight squeeze and kissing him on either cheek before turning to face you. Eyes flickering over you for a moment before giving you a comforting smile.

“Hi, you must be y/n. You’re gorgeous.” She opened her arms for a hug, giving you the chance to step away if you were uncomfortable but you were more than happy to let her wrap you up in her hold - not getting a hug from a parent in years.

“It’s so nice to meet you. Charles talks so much about you.” You smiled.

She chuckled, looking back at her son. “Well, unfortunately he has not told me nearly enough about you. I can’t wait to get to know you, love.”

Your cheeks flushed. “Can’t wait either.”

“Come, come. Let’s get you inside… Arthur, Lorenzo! Viens aider ton frère!*1” She shouted, making you flinch a little, before tugging you towards the house. “Honestly, they’re all grown men but I swear I still have to hold their hand sometimes.”

“Maman, il est assez grand et assez moche pour le faire lui-même!*2” You heard Arthur before you saw him, the youngest Leclerc brother gave you a gentle smile as he walked past. “Hey, nice to meet you.”

He continued to squabble with his older brother in a mix of French and Italian as the two of them unloaded the back of the car. Lorenzo was the last to appear, giving you a friendly nod before scolding his brothers. Pascale rolled her eyes before continuing to lead you inside.

“So, tell me everything.” She sat you both down on the sofa. “How did this all happen?”

You smiled softly. “We bumped into each other at a bar one night, caught up on everything we’d missed over the years… and then one thing led to another… he just makes me feel so content and safe. You’ve raised a wonderful man, Pascale.”

She held her hands over her heart. “That’s so lovely to hear, y/n. I’ve not seen too much of you two together yet but if you’re both happy, that’s what is most important to me.”

“He means a lot to me. Probably more than he knows.”

Charles stood just behind the door frame, listening to what you had to say. You meant a lot to him too but you weren’t sure if, for you, it was in a best friend kind of way or if your feelings were starting to shift to something else. Instead he stepped into the room and greeted you both, before sitting beside you.

“As-tu fini de l'interroger, Maman?*3” He teased, draping his arm across your shoulder - pulling you close enough to kiss your cheek.

“Sorry, sorry. I just want to get to know the girl that makes you happy.” She apologised, holding her hands up defensively. “I’ll let you two get settled in upstairs, dinner will be ready around 8.”

She gave Charles a kiss on the cheek before your teammate led you upstairs. Showing you the bathroom before opening his bedroom door - you weren’t really sure what you expected but it was more grown up than you’d hoped. There was a cabinet full of trophies and medals from his karting days and a couple of posters, but it was definitely the bedroom of a late teen rather than his younger self. “Damn, I was hoping for a race car bed.”

He laughed. “Sorry to disappoint. At least we’ll both fit in this, no?”

“It’ll do… you sure you’re okay with this?” You asked, lowering your voice.

The Monegasque driver stepped closer to you and wrapped his arms around you. “Regardless of what happens, you’re my friend, y/n… and I could leave this any time I like, remember?”

You lowered your head a little and nodded, but before you could disappear into yourself, Charles hooked his finger under your chin and tilted your head back up so you met his gaze. “But that’s not going to happen, I’m in this… for as long as you need me... as long as you want me.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as he slowly lent towards you, his lips grazed yours just for a moment before Arthur called out your names - practically skipping into the room. “Oh god… eugh what have I walked in on.”

A laugh escaped you and you buried your face in Charles’ chest, trying to recapture the breath he’d stolen. Sure, you’d shared kisses since you started fake dating but nothing so intimate… so intense. His hand stayed on the small of your back. “What do you want, Arthur?”

“Well, I wanted to get to know your girl! That’s the whole point of her being here right?” Arthur chuckled. “I’m Arthur, by the way. Since he didn’t introduce me.”

You stepped away from the middle-Leclerc to shake Arthur’s extended hand. “Y/n… I have to say, I saw some of your races this year. You’ve got real promise.”

“Got a girl who knows her racing? Good job, Charl.”

“Well I used to race myself, work for Ferrari now… so yeah, I’d say I know my racing.” You smiled softly.

Charles smiled softly down at you, his arm still wrapped around your middle. He went to speak but Arthur’s phone buzzed so he held his finger up to cut off his brother. “Oooh, Thirty gossip.”

“…you have notifications turned on for that?” You swallowed heavily, feeling Charles’ hold on you tighten a little.

The youngest Leclerc looked at you like you were crazy. “Are you for real? Of course I do. It’s the biggest secret in the sport.”

You fished your phone out of your pocket, the curiosity of what they were saying about you now got the better of you. Charles peered over your shoulder as you opened up the article that immediately appeared at the top of your twitter feed.

Inside source continues to insist Thirty is a woman under 30 and known in the racing world, Ferrari yet to comment.

Our eyes on the inside continue to comment that the two time world champion, only known as Thirty, is a woman under 30. She’s also already known to us, someone with experience - though it wasn’t clear if it was in Formula racing or another motorsport such as Indycar.

We will bring you more as we have it, unfortunately our source cannot share more at this time as they are already breaching a confidentiality contract.

We reached out to Ferrari for comment but have had no response - the team knowing that it’s a lose-lose situation no matter how they answer.

Charles saw your jaw clench, someone on Team Thirty was talking to the press but you had no idea who. You wanted to come out on your own terms but it seemed whoever this was, was trying to force your hand.

“Ugh, that doesn’t narrow it down.” Arthur huffed. “Anyway, I’ll leave you two to unpack and finish… whatever it was I walked in on.”

He winked at you before dipping out and shutting the door behind him. Charles looked down at you and could see how defeated you looked, he decided against speaking right away and just pulled you into a hug. That was all it took for you to start sobbing, your walls completely crumbling down.

It broke his heart.

You hiccuped. “I-I… it’s…”

The driver shushed you softly, sitting you on the edge of the bed so you could catch your breath. He grabbed you some tissues and a glass of water from the bathroom - just sitting quietly beside you whilst you gathered yourself. His hand stayed on your thigh, thumb brushing across your leg.

You placed your hand on top of his and he flipped his over so you could lock fingers with him. The Monaco native gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

“…thank you.”

“Anytime… now, talk to me.” His voice was soft, eyes fixed on your face.

After a deep breath you spoke. “I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this up. I just… but I want to do it my way. But these articles are pushing me closer and closer to the edge but I don’t know if I’m ready to take the jump.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I thought you wanted to lose the mask soon?”

“I did… I do.” You sighed softly, rubbing your eyes a little. “But I still want to do it on my time. I just think I need to talk to the team… right?”

He smiled softly and nodded, pulling you into his side and pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. “No matter what you do, I’ve got your back.”

“Thank you, Charles.”

You looked up at him and smiled, and this time, your teammate didn’t want to take any chances. He slipped his hand under your jaw and lent in, pressing a meaningful kiss to your lips - it was so different to the one you shared at the club or any other. This wasn’t rushed or for anyone else, it was a private intimate moment for you both.

The driver felt your lips curve into a smile as he slowly pulled back, his eyes meeting yours.

“What was that for?” You asked, leaning into his touch as he brushed his thumb across your cheek.

“…I just wanted to kiss you.” He chuckled softly. “I’m not sure how you’ve not noticed but I kind of have a thing for you outside of this whole fake relationship situation, Cherie.”

Your cheeks flushed a dark pink. “Y-you do?”

“I have for a while. I’m sorry if this is a lot to take in I-“

You cut him off by pressing your lips to his. “I like you as well… but, what does this mean for the fake dating thing?”

Charles paused for a moment, taking your hands in his as he thought. He admittedly hadn’t thought the whole thing through, but after you kissed him in the club he just couldn’t get you out of his head. And it definitely didn’t help that you spent all day every day together, the only time you were apart was at night and even then he dreamt of you.

“I don’t know, we should probably talk to the team… so maybe we just enjoy Christmas first?” He sighed softly. “Again, I’m sorry to unload all this on you, I should’ve thought about it better.”

With a soft smile it was your turn to cup his face in your hands. “No you’re right, let’s just enjoy Christmas together… then we can figure things out.”

Both of you lifted your head as Pascale called your names for dinner before sharing one more smile and heading downstairs.

When Christmas Day finally came around, it felt like a foreign experience to you. The holidays surrounded by family was something you hadn’t truly experienced in years, even if the Leclercs weren’t your family, they sure made you feel like they were. They showered you with love and affection that you hadn’t realised you even needed.

“Y/n, dear, are you okay?” Pascale asked, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You zoned out for a bit there.”

You gave her a smile. “I just didn’t realise quite how much I needed a Christmas break… Thank you for all of this.”

She sat beside you. “You’re important to my Charles, so of course… but I feel like that’s not what this is about, love.”

“I… I guess you could say I’m separated from my family?” You sighed, letting your gaze move away from her. “My dad sends me money, which I don’t even need anymore, instead of spending time with me… my mum passed away a long time ago and ever since he remarried Dad just brushed me aside for his new family.”

Pascale took your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze as you spoke.

“So I’m just really happy to have a family to spend Christmas with, even if it’s not my own.” Your voice broke a little but you held it together - letting Pascale wrap you up in her arms.

“You’ve always got a family here.” She whispered, rubbing your back. “In fact… you’re gonna need one of these.”

She reached behind her and passed you a squishy present - once you opened it you realised it was a classic Christmas jumper with a massive Snoopy emblazoned on the front, making you burst out laughing. “Oh my god.”

“We all wear them whilst eating dinner, so it’s only right you have one too.” Her voice was soft.

“Thank you, Pascale.”

She gave you one final hug before leaving to return to the kitchen, crossing paths with Charles as he came into the room. He raised his brow at her before turning his attention to you, smiling softly when he saw the jumper in your hands.

“She definitely likes you if you’ve got one of them.” He chuckled softly, sitting beside you. “Are you having a good Christmas Day so far?”

You nodded eagerly, resting your head on his shoulder - your teammate wrapping his arm around your middle. “I’m not sure I ever want to leave.”

Charles hummed softly. “Mum would love that… but we have obligations in Bali in the new year.”

“I suppose it could be worse.”

The two of you shared a tight hug before joining the rest of the family in the dining room for dinner, Charles’ arm draped over your shoulder as Arthur helped his mum set the table. You smiled softly at your teammate, and he returned it - even though none of this was real, you sure wished it was.

And with the way Charles was looking at you, just maybe it could be someday.

(Pls click on the 2nd photo to view the whole thing)

**************************************************

Hope you enjoyed!! Extremely fluffy chapter this one ❤️

Next part >>>

*1) come help your brother!

*2) mum, he's big enough and ugly enough to do it himself

*3) are you done interrogating her, mum?

[megamindsecretlair]

Be My Little Darling - Chapter 8

Chapter 7 Chapter 9

Pairing: Loki x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. Angst. Oral (male receiving) Soft Loki, use of magic, and heavy mentions of survivor's guilt, negative self-talk, violence.

Summary: Loki is the exclusive owner of the hottest club in New Asgard. Dubbed the Nine Realms, each of the nine rooms represent a different realm. You are his second in command, working the floors and ensuring everyone is having fun. When you arrive to open the club, you find Loki in his office. You intended to help him, but nothing ever goes according to plan when dealing with the God of Mischief.

Word Count: 4,311k

Masterlist

A/N: WHEW! This drained me LOL. In a good way, I slept like a baby after this. This is definitely one of the heaviest things I've released into the wild. Also, sorry babes! I'm going on vacation next week so no new chapter next week. I was going to try and type something up and save it as a draft, but no go. Too hectic at home. You can definitely use this chapter to tell me your theories! Who do you think the saboteur is? When will Y/N give in? Can Loki's patience outlast Y/N's stubbornness??? Likes are always awesome. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers!

Taglist: @cantstayawaycani @braverthanthenewworld @monaeesstuff @chaos-4baby @dayjlovesromance @soft-persephone @mybonafidefeelings

It was no secret that you had trust issues. You did not trust how quiet it had been from the saboteur. You did not trust that the person just gave up their reign of terror. You didn’t care for the silence. Every shadow was the saboteur. Every delivery had an air of doom. 

You were on edge and it made the others on edge as well. It had been a few quiet weeks since the last surprise from the person out to hurt Loki and by extension, his club. And you realized that the more you thought about it, the more the person won. This was what they wanted. For you all to cower in fear, jumping at shadows and mistrusting the person next to you.

Fuck that. You knew every person here. Inside and out. You were not going to go on a witch hunt. Loki wanted to, desperately. It took all of your concentration to keep him at bay and keep the club running smoothly.

You looked over your notebook, running through the calendar for the evening. You were due to have a large party in the Helheim room. Your heels echoed in the quiet space. You liked to arrive early and have a bit of peace to yourself before the hustle and bustle started. You were able to collect your thoughts for half a second, before the complaints started.

You ran through the list of special requests. You rolled your eyes. Those were always fun. Not. Loki promised decadence and your every fantasy fulfilled. That translated to entitled assholes who thought that they could treat the waitstaff like personal servants and entertainment. You grabbed a pen from your pocket to make a note for yourself. You had to talk to the waitstaff and bartenders to cut the party off if they got too rowdy. You’d deal with the consequences.

You passed by Loki’s office on your way to yours. The door was propped open. You put your hand on the cold doorknob ready to close it when you peeked inside and saw Loki sitting at the desk. He was rubbing his jaw and staring down. 

You knew he’d sense you in a moment but for a brief second, you watched him. You watched the angles and lines of his face. The sharp turn of his nose, his downturned mouth. His jacket was off and hanging over the edge of his chair. The sleeves of his black shirt were pulled up revealing pale flashes of his forearms. His long, delicate fingers were clenched in a fist. 

He looked like a statue made real. One of those old statues built long before your time that decorated the palace where Loki resided. The ones that were carved from real artists. Who turned cold, unyielding stone to breathing moments of life. The humans on Midgard had similar statues in their museums. 

The kind where detail was paramount. Fingers dug into skin, clothes were draped just so, and faces held that serene pain you often found on Loki’s face when he thought no one was looking. 

You pushed into the room. Loki didn’t stir. You walked up to the desk.

“Loki?”

Loki took a deep breath as if you roused him from a dream. “Darling,” he said. His voice was deeper and raspier than normal. 

“Have you been here all night?” You asked.

His desk was littered with paperwork. His once neat desk was cluttered and haphazard. It was so unlike him that you stared at it in shock. You looked back at him. His hair was dry and lifeless. It hung on his shoulders but there was none of the ethereal otherness to it. 

“Has the morning passed already?” He did not sound like your Loki. He sounded tired and unfocused. 

“Did you sleep here?” You looked around the room and noticed that his couch remained untouched. You made him keep a blanket draped across it for decoration purposes but also in case he wanted to take a nap. He thought you were joking. He could just conjure one up. But why waste the effort?

“Sleep would imply that I closed my eyes and rested. I assure you, no such luxuries were forthcoming,” he said. He rubbed his eyes and you crossed behind the desk to get closer to him. You grabbed his chin and made him look at you. 

You cursed softly at finding his eyes red. He smirked at you. At least the bastard hadn’t lost that.

“Worried for me, Darling?” He asked.

“This is what the saboteur wants.” You looked around his desk once more. Sure enough, there was the card he found on top of the ale delivery. He glanced at it too and his frown returned. You turned him once more to look at you. “They win if we let our guards down and obsess. This is no way to live. We’re constantly on the defensive.”

He smirked once more. “That’s why I spent the evening reviewing security measures. Whoever this person is, they know how to sneak past them. I planned to add more today.” 

“You need to go home and get some rest. You’re no good to anyone like this,” you said.

“Is that an invitation?” He asked.

You rolled your eyes. “If I take you to bed, it will be with your full faculties. Not…whatever this is,” you said. Even you knew to tread lightly. You’ve seen Loki on rough days. This went beyond rough. 

Loki looked…defeated. Which was impossible. Gods weren’t defeated. Certainly not your dark prince. He chuckled and leaned back in his chair. He spread his legs, one knee bent and the other thrust in front of him. His office chair was his throne and you were a lowly peasant seeking an ounce of mercy.

But damn if he didn’t look delicious. Damm him. Sleep-deprived looked good on him. Everything looked good on him. He sat there as if he were ready to entertain noblemen or hold court. The dark circles under his eyes gave him an roguish air. 

“If you take me to bed?” 

“If,” you confirmed.

“Don’t you mean when?” 

“I never say anything I don’t mean, Loki,” you said. 

“And you don’t deny what has been said between us. I say you’re mine and you’ve yet to correct me,” he said. 

You pursed your lips. Was he right? Had you never denied him when he claimed that you were his? You thought back to your recent interactions and you realized with a start that it was true. You never corrected him. A slow grin crossed your face.

He held up a finger. “Don’t try to start now. No lies between us,” he said.

Your grin faded. Irritatingly enough, he was correct again. There was no use lying. While you weren’t quite ready to say the words, you were his. No other man did it for you. No other man consumed your waking thoughts and your dreams.

You sighed and crossed your arms. “Off to bed, Loki. Alone,” you added before he could come up with another dirty remark. He chuckled and looked you over. 

You wore your signature fishnet stockings and form fitting dress that hugged every curve you had. It stopped mid-thigh but rode up with every movement. You stood with your boots crossed at the ankle and Loki took his time looking you over.

The heat in his eyes must match yours. A pillow appeared at Loki’s feet. A plush black pillow from the looks of it. “On your knees,” he said.

“You can’t be serious,” you sputtered. It was one thing to ogle each other. But he had been up all night obsessing. You stood up straight and glanced at his still open door. 

“I never say anything I don’t mean, Darling,” he said with a smirk. 

Your lips parted as he threw his words right back at you. You bit the inside of your cheek. Indecision froze you to the spot. It was getting harder to resist him. Harder to not give in and say the damn words. 

You woke up feverish now. Every night this past week, you woke up in a pool of sweat with dark images of Loki floating through your mind. You dreamt of him in between your thighs, wringing pleasure from you as a musician plucked music from a violin. You dreamt of his lips on your neck. His breath in your ear.

Your night clothes stuck to you now as you woke up drenched in sweat and arousal. Always, you were denied. As if he commanded your dreams as well. That he would not let you have one ounce of peace until you gave in. Until you surrendered. And you were running out of excuses to say no.

It was maddening. This sick twist and pull between you. But you couldn’t stop. Found that you didn’t want to stop. You liked driving him crazy. You liked that he drove you crazy. He was consuming you inside and out. It would be too easy. Far too easy to grovel. 

“I won’t repeat myself, Darling,” he said. 

His office had a window behind him. The sun rose on the opposite side so there was only ambient light slashed across his features. It highlighted the shadows across his cheeks and his nose. 

You bent at the knees and he tsked. “Slower,” he said.

You walked closer and then looked at him in his gorgeous crystal blue eyes. You kept eye contact as your hands slid over his knees. His thighs. Two can play this game. He’ll not dominate you completely just yet.

You used him as a crutch to sink softly to your knees. The pillow was incredibly soft. Like kneeling on marshmallows, the funny little concoctions that humans made. You stayed up right, blinking at him. 

He smirked and reached out with one hand to trail his fingers across your cheek. You nuzzled into his warm palm. It smelled like him and whiskey. He trailed his fingers over your lips. 

“Please me, Darling,” he faintly commanded. 

You leaned forward and unzipped his pants. You pushed it down far enough to free his hardening cock. This, this you could do. You could please him and remain your own person. You were his in all but that. You could not give all of yourself to him. Not when he was incapable of doing the same.

You watched him and his expression didn’t change. Oh but his eyes. His eyes were narrowed, cataloging everything that you did. You smiled at him and your tongue darted out to catch the single drop of precum beading on the tip of his cock. 

You trailed your hands up and down his dick, trying to learn him. Learn his sighs and hints of encouragement. You alternated increasing pressure and letting go to learn what he liked. You’d done this before but it was like you did it for the first time again. He smirked at you when you got it right and the thrill of pleasure went down your spine. 

He widened his stance when you bent your head down and took him into your mouth. He sighed as you slowly licked him up and down. Last time was a frenzy. A desperation to get as much of him into your mouth as possible. 

This time, you were able to tease him a little. To lick the underside of his dick and enjoy the way he jerked in his seat. He chuckled. “Remember Darling, whatever you do to me, I do in kind,” he said.

You paused as you thought about just how badly you wanted to tease him. But that meant that he’d only tease you back. And he was infinitely better at it than you were. It dawned on you that you may never best him. Never beat him at his own game. He was always a step ahead. Planning, plotting, scheming. 

You let him go with a wet pop and used your hand to stroke him. Perhaps you can’t win. But you’d enjoy trying. 

You grinned evilly and put your mouth back on him. Sucking in the salty, heady taste of him. More pre-cum flooded your mouth and you greedily sucked it down. Loki was not selfish with his pleasure. He hummed and cooed whenever you did something he liked in particular.

His moans made you go faster, take him deeper. You took him anyway you could get him at the moment. You sucked and licked and slobbered all over him. Chasing his pleasure and taking none for yourself. It wasn’t enough to satiate the burning flame inside of you. It would never be enough.

You needed him inside of you. You burned with the ache every time you went to bed. There were moments when you were finally alone in your office and you indulged in the fantasy of him not needing those stupid words. Of him getting so worked up that he just stormed into your office and took you right then and there. 

Your panties were already flooded. Soaking through with each swipe of your tongue against his tip. Distantly, you remembered that his office was still open. The thought of nearly getting caught made you take him deeper than before. 

Loki groaned and stroked your cheek. Your hair was pulled back this time, so there was nothing for him to move out of the way. Instead, he gripped the back of your neck and pulled you down faster. He drove his hips up to meet your eager mouth.

“My precious Darling, fuck,” he moaned. “You’re so sexy with my cock in your mouth,” he said. 

You made a noise but it was muffled by the slide of his dick in your mouth. Your gagging filled the quiet office. 

“That’s all it takes, is it? My cock in your mouth? My cum down your throat?” 

His dirty words made you wetter. You were pitifully mistaken. You thought one more taste of him would hold you over? That it would quench the need inside of you? You had no idea. You would never get enough of him. Never.

Your hands were braced on his thighs for leverage. But since he took over fucking your mouth, you moved one hand up to fondle his balls. He groaned deeper, a rumbling bass in the back of his throat like thunder on the horizon. 

You played with him, giving him just enough pressure to give you that look. The look that said he’d fuck you into the ground if he could. He’d swallow you whole if he could. He’d consume you from the inside out and not think twice about it. He pumped your head faster. 

Your jaw ached but you didn’t care. You wanted his pleasure. You sucked harder and he yelped. Hot splashes of cum coated your tongue and you swallowed him down. He shoved one last time, hitting the back of your throat and making you truly gag this time. You coughed around his dick and he released you. 

He caressed your jaw, your cheeks. He placed kisses around your sweaty forehead, your lips. He licked himself off your tongue and groaned. “I like the way I taste on your lips,” he murmured. 

You kissed him back, threading your fingers through his hair. It was still smooth, though dry, but you just liked touching him. Being connected to him. The thought alone chilled you to your bones.

Loki sensed the change in you. “What is it?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Nothing,” you said. You heard the panic in your voice. Try as you might, you couldn’t will yourself to calm down. It was a stray thought, nothing more. So what if you liked touching him? 

So what? Only that you wanted to keep doing it. You wanted to crawl into his lap. No, you wanted to crawl deeper. You wanted to climb inside of him and live there. You wanted his heart. You wanted his desperation. You wanted his obsession. You wanted his rage. His passion. You wanted to dance in the flames that burned within him. And it scared the ever living shit out of you. 

“Don’t pull away from me. What is it?” Loki gripped your shoulders and shook you. You shook your head. Words were clogged in your throat. You gripped onto his forearms to keep from flailing around. 

Fear jackhammered inside of you, pumping your heart painfully against your chest. You needed air. You needed away from him. You never ran in your life, but today was a day of firsts. You pulled away from him but he held onto you. 

“Tell me!” He yelled. “Tell me what happened!” 

“Let go,” you said through clenched teeth. 

“I swear by the gods in Valhalla…”

“No!” You thrashed and slapped at his shoulders. You didn’t want to hurt him. You just needed away. Time to collect your thoughts. Sex was muddying your mind and he hadn’t even been inside you yet! You needed time to rebuild that wall. 

Loki grabbed your face and made you look at him. He made you see him. In return, he saw you. His eyes softened as he gleaned what you didn’t want him to see. He had no right to see. 

“Fuck you!” 

Loki leaned down and kissed you, pressing you into him and not leaving you room to escape. “You have to feel it, Darling. You have to,” he said. He pulled you into a hug. Your arms were trapped against his broad chest.

Still you struggled and bucked like a wild horse. “You have to feel it,” he said. His breath fanned across your ear.

You didn’t want to feel it. You liked the icy interior of your heart. You liked the cage you set it in to keep from feeling everything too much. The minute you opened it, the minute you let it free…it hurt too fucking much. 

Loki held on to you. His arms were like a cage around you, encasing you. Your hands fisted his shirt. You wanted to shove him away. You took ragged breaths, your face crushed against his chest. 

He wasn’t letting go. You couldn’t win against him. Not by strength, not by wit. It was futile to try. You slumped against him. A keening whine leaving you. Tears stormed down your cheeks and ruined his shirt. The dampness spread and plastered against your face. 

Oh gods…it hurt. All of the ways that you tried to keep it in these past five years. The way you neglected yourself. Became a version of you that your siblings needed but didn’t appreciate. All the ways you stepped up to the plate, taking on more and more responsibilities. 

You collected burdens like a child collected seashells. The more you took on, the prouder you felt. You were handling it and handling it all without a problem. You bragged about being overworked. You bragged about not having a life outside of work and home. Look how responsible you were!

You liked that you clapped yourself on the back. It was a thankless job looking after your siblings after your family was gone. The bouts of fatigue were just because you worked too much. Not because you were grieving. Silly little feelings like that didn’t apply to you. You didn’t get to grieve.

The moments when you first woke up and were disappointed was harmless. Everyone experienced that. The moments when your heart seized, thinking back to the look on Thanos’ face. How he split the ship in two. You were shoved on one side with no idea what was going on. 

You would stand there, frozen. Clutching your chest as if he had killed you instead. You didn’t deserve to be there. Yet every day, the alarm sounded. You got out of bed. You did what needed to be done. 

You took this job to care for your siblings. You worked your ass off to earn more, do more, be more. To be useful. As long as you were useful, you could buy time. Time to find your family so that they could take over. So that they wouldn’t need you anymore. So that you could finally repay the life debt you owed them. 

A soundless scream left you. Loki rubbed your back, whispering something you couldn’t hear. Didn’t want to hear. 

It felt selfish wanting him. You had no right to him. No right. Your life was not yours. You were living on borrowed time. You were a placeholder. Holding space until you found your family. It wasn’t right, receiving pleasure. 

Things like laughing and kissing for the hell of it weren't for you. Things like running your hands through his hair, your heart soaring knowing that you made him smile, trading witty banter. All of it. You didn’t deserve it.

“Yes, yes, you do,” Loki’s voice penetrated the deep fog you descended into. Had you said it out loud? 

Loki called you by your real name. You knew that he knew it but he only used it once, when you first introduced yourself. To hear it on his tongue was too much to bear. 

You sniffled and he leaned back far enough to look you in the eyes. “I ruined your shirt,” you said. Like you ruin everything else. Your makeup, snot, and tears stained his shirt. You’d have to take it to get cleaned.

Loki growled and a beam of his magic passed over him, erasing your filthy fluids. “It’s just a shirt. I can make a hundred more.” He wiped your tears away, his thumbs passing right below your eyes.

“You know it wasn’t your fault,” he said.

You shook your head. It was your fault. You stood on the wrong side of the ship.

“Eyes on me,” Loki said. He waited until you finally blinked up at him. “It was not your fault. I was there too. I mourn for them too. You’re here because the gods willed it so. Because I will it so.”

“Loki,” you whispered. Your voice was rough and it burned with every inhale.

“No. Haven’t you punished yourself enough?” He asked.

“It’s never enough,” you admitted. “Nothing feels satisfactory,” you said. 

“You keep moving the goalposts for satisfaction. You create impossible hurdles for you to cross. And then blame yourself when you can’t see the end in sight,” he said. 

Fresh tears welled in your eyes. “I don’t know how to stop,” you said.

“I know. I know,” Loki said. He smiled at you. What a mess you probably looked like. You came in here with your armor intact, bossing him around, and ordering him to bed. But you were the one sobbing on the floor, stripped raw. 

“Let me in and I’ll help,” he said.

“It’s not fair…”

“Let me worry about how I choose to spend my time, Darling. I choose you. I choose your burdens. Your sorrows. I am a god. I can carry it,” he said. 

You sighed and wiped your face. There was no use fighting him, so why bother trying? You nodded. Gods help you, but so far he hadn’t let you down. He was there. Day and day out just like you were.

He already had so much to deal with. Now you were one more thing added on. On top of the stress of dealing with the club and the saboteur. Guilt ate at you like a vulture pecking a carcass. How could you even begin to repay him? 

Loki placed one last kiss to your lips. He lingered, his soft lips against yours. Sounds started to filter in from the club. The employees were starting to arrive. Loki kissed your forehead and released you. 

You missed his arms instantly as you got to your feet. The pillow disappeared and Loki zipped himself back up. He stood up and ran his fingers through his hair. “We’re not done, Darling,” he said.

“I know,” you said with a deep, wonderful sigh. The kind of relief that came after a good cry. Or a good fuck.

Shrill screaming tore your eyes away from each other. You passed a hand over your face and your makeup was pristine one more time. Besides a few wrinkles, no one would be able to tell what occurred here.

You and Loki left his office and raced down the hallway. Honey stood outside of her assigned room and screamed and screamed. Why was it that she was always in the middle of it all? 

You turned to the room…except the oppressive heat of the Helheim room greeted you. What the hell? 

You checked adjacent rooms and it was more of the same. The rooms were all switched around. 

“Motherfucker!” You screamed. 

Again, acidic guilt soured your gut. While you were busy crying like a baby, the saboteur struck again. Just waltzed in without a sound. And switched entire rooms around. 

On the outside of the room that Honey and a few other employees gathered around. There was another card. Loki plucked it from the wall and flipped it over before handing it to you. 

“Vengeance,” was all it said. 

You were going to find whoever was doing this and you were going to rake them over hot coals. You were going to find the nearest frost beast and help curb stomp the evil, vile coward. 

Magic burned beneath your skin, ready to become any weapon you chose. 

“They will find that vengeance is mine,” Loki said. He was uncharacteristically quiet. His eyes locked with yours. “It’s ours,” he said.

You nodded and handed him back the card. Damn right it was both of yours. There would be no hole to crawl into, no hell to flee to, no cave to hide in, that you wouldn’t find them and erase them from existence.

Count your fucking days, bitch. 

Masterlist | Chapter 7 | Chapter 9

[wicca-wicca-whack]

Care, pt 2

Gordon Malloy x Reader

Word Count: 2229

PT 1

Shockingly, making out with Gordon didn’t lead to anything.

Well, at least, you were shocked.

After hanging up on Kevin, you’d maybe made out for ten more minutes before he gently peeled himself from you, laughing awkwardly at the way you grabbed for him.

“You should go to bed,” he reasoned, sitting back on his knees, eyes drawn to the pout on your lips.

“I don’t wanna go to bed yet.”

“Come on. It’s been a long night.” He stood, taking your hands and pulling you up.

“Come with me.”

“I’ll put you to bed.”

“And lay with me.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“No.” You grinned, pulling him along towards your bed.

“No funny business,” he tried, watching you let go of his hands and scramble into bed.

“Mmhm.” You waved him down, and he’d shed his shoes before joining you, arms open in offering, which you’d taken, pressing your face into his shirt with a sigh.

He’d been gone when you woke up. And you haven’t seen him since.

Which, in such a big ship, you hadn’t been too worried about. At first. But a day turned into two, which turned into a week, and you were a little worried. You were starting to think he didn’t actually want to kiss you.

But Talla had waved that concern away when you brought it up. “Oh, come on, the way he was looking at you? Of course he wanted to kiss you!”

It had made you feel better for a day until you decided you must have done something else wrong. He was obviously avoiding you. Sure, he was stationed on the bridge, and you were always in the lab, but to not even spot him in passing, or in the mess?

Gordon figured it was for the best. Really, while you two had never really been close, like ever, he’d heard from people who knew you better how on and off you and D’Acunto had been. 

The pair of you were never broken up long, and he’d definitely seen the dozen messages from him waiting for you when he’d woken up the morning after. He didn’t read them, though he desperately wanted to, only seeing the preview of a message that looked to be some kind of apology. 

Regardless of how shitty D’Acunto was, there was no way he could compete with an on-and-off over ten-year relationship. He cursed himself for even thinking D’Acunto would let someone like you go, grabbing his jacket on his way out your door that morning.

Avoiding you felt like it was burning him a little, a feeling he wasn’t really used to. But it made it easier for him, not having to hear you tell him it was a mistake.

Your quarters weren’t on the same deck as his, so coming and going from the bridge to his quarters, there was little risk of overlap. He could get just about anything he got in the mess from the synthesizer in his own quarters.

Ed told him he was stupid after about a week, showing up at his door to hang out and have a drink.

“You don’t even know if she’s actually going to forgive him,” he’d pointed out, beer bottle in hand.

“Except that she always does,” Gordon returned with a sigh, taking a long drink.

“Didn’t you say you made out even after he called? That doesn’t feel like someone who’s gonna take a guy back.”

“She was drunk.”

“She was barely tipsy, according to Talla.”

“Talla made her spill half her drink down her shirt, dude.”

“Yeah, which she’s saying she did on purpose.”

He groans, rubbing his forehead. “I know what she said, man.”

“She also said she’s been asking about you.”

He feels himself freeze up, glancing at his dark-haired friend. “Yeah, well… It’s not a big deal,” he tries.

“Dude, do you hear yourself? If the roles were reversed, you’d be on my ass about it!”

He snorts, setting down his empty beer bottle. “Good thing for you that they aren’t. How’s Lieutenant Q-”

“Don’t change the subject, dude.”

He puts his hands up defensively. “Fine, fine. But it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Gordon,” Ed sighs, resting his beer bottle on his knee. “It’s been years since you’ve been interested in, like, an actual person. She seems nice.”

“She’s cool,” he admits slowly, picking at his pants idly.

“I still don’t get why you’re avoiding her.”

They ended up going in circles about it almost the whole time he was there, saying their goodbyes at nearly 0100 hours.

Another week passes before he braves the mess, John’s arm over his shoulder as he loudly regales him with a story about him flirting with one of the newest additions to the science lab.

He can feel the moment your eyes light on him, nearly burning through his skull as he takes a seat with his friend.

You can feel rage bubbling in your chest when you spot him, annoyed that he’d almost met eyes with you before he sat with his back to you.

Ada- the Lieutenant you’d seen with the Captain at Lamarr’s party- clicks her tongue, waving a hand. “Ignore him. Seriously. He’s been super weird lately.”

You’d become quick friends in the time following the party, making an effort to branch out and find your own friends, hoping to distract yourself from the way Gordon had been ignoring you.

“Seriously. He’s missing out,” Talla agrees easily, glancing over her shoulder at the pair. “He needs to get over himself.”

You sigh, pulling your eyes from him. “I just don’t get what’s going on. I thought-”

“You thought correctly, really,” Talla assures. “He’s just being an idiot.”

“Should I say something?” You question, as Kelly returns to your table with a few shots.

“I wouldn’t,” she advises.

“I probably would,” Ada scrunches her face up a little.

“Kevin still blowing you up?” Talla peeks at you as you all grab a shot, clinking the small glasses together and tossing it back.

“No, thankfully.” You sigh, setting the glass down. “I think he’s finally accepted that it’s over.”

“Good. I don’t know how he thought he was gonna get you back after all that mess.”

“Yeah, an argument and breaking up is one thing, but no contact for that long is just insane,” Kelly adds.

“Time to get back out there!”

You can’t help but glance at Gordon again. “I’m gonna go say something.”

“Are you sure about that?” Kelly sounds concerned. “In front of LaMarr?”

“Yup.” You hop down from the tall chair, heading towards the table.

LaMarr’s eyes find you first, and he gives you a friendly grin as Gordon slowly turns to peek back, and he looks like he nearly bites his tongue when he sees you stalking towards him.

“We need to talk.”

He flounders a little, looking nervous. “I’m bus-”

“That’s my queue,” John gives you a nod, raising a hand towards the girls you’d just left and standing from his seat, heading towards them. “I’ll see you later, man.”

“...Busy,” he finishes lamely, eyes on the other man’s retreating form.

You take the seat right next to him, and he jumps a little as his eyes refocus on you. 

“Listen-”

“I know-”

You start talking at the same time, voices dying off quickly. You can’t help but think he looks like he thinks you’re going to execute him, and you sigh, all too aware the nosy group at the previous table you occupied is probably watching you.

“Come on.” You stand, hauling him by the collar. He yelps, but follows, finding your grip dragging him along to be too firm.

It’s silly, he knows, but he tries slyly to shirk his uniform jacket, only for you to turn on him and grab his hand instead.

“You’re not getting away from me that easy, Malloy.”

You drag him all the way to your quarters, punching in your code and sort of pushing him in. He lets another yelp out but doesn’t fight, seemingly resigned.

“Why are you avoiding me?” You stand in front of your door, arms crossed, watching him deflate a little.

“I’m not.” You don’t even have to know him very well to know he's lying.

“You haven’t been in the mess for two entire weeks,” you argue.

“Taking some personal time.” He stumbles back when you step towards him, and if you weren’t angry, it would probably make you laugh.

“You haven’t answered any of my messages.”

That earns you an awkward laugh. “I’ve, uh… been busy.”

You sigh. “Look, Gordon, if you’re not interested in me-”

“Not interested?” He looks at you like you’ve grown an extra head.

“-you just have to tell me that. I won’t hold it against you.”

“Woah,” he lets out another awkward laugh, “that's not- No! You’re cool. I’m definitely interested.” He isn’t looking you in the eyes at all anymore, and you deflate a little.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No! No. I just… I don’t wanna get in the way.”

“In the way of what?”

“You and D’Acunto.”

You feel like everything stops for a minute, confused. “Gordon, you don’t even like Kevin.”

“No, I don’t.”

You scoff. “Gordon, me and Kevin aren’t together anymore.”

“No, I know you weren’t-”

“We aren’t. Still aren’t.”

You watch the gears in his brain whirr.

“Did you think I was going to take him back?”

You can see him wince. “Maybe.”

“Why?”

“Well, I know you guys were pretty… off and on to start with. When I left, you had, like, 20 messages from him.”

“You read my-”

“I didn’t read them!” He defends quickly. “Your desk just kept pinging.”

You sigh, rubbing your forehead and moving to sit on your couch. “Yes, Kevin was messaging me. He was going back and forth between calling me a cheater-”

“A what?”

“-and pleading with me.” The couch dips as Gordon takes a seat next to you. “I told him we were done. It’s over. I’d already wasted 10 years of my life waiting for him to show me some kind of concern or care. It took me, what, a few months to find friends who care about me more than Kevin does. I didn’t realize how low the bar was.”

He’s silent, just watching you like he doesn’t know what to say. 

You take your uniform jacket off, folding it over the back of the couch. “Kevin never even walked me back from a party. Granted, we all stay on a Union ship, it's generally safe,” you concede, “but you offered to walk me home just because my drink got spilled down my top.”

He flushes. “Well, that was-”

“-A setup, I know. But still. You were right. Kevin is a massive jerk. I liked hanging out with you. I was hoping we could do more of that, you know?”

There’s a few beats of silence before he shimmies his own jacket off, tossing it haphazardly over the back of the couch. “Okay.”

“I don’t wanna pressure you, I mean, I know it’s been a while since you’ve dated-”

“Who told you that?” He sounds fully embarrassed.

“Captain Mercer.” 

He’d come into the lab, in fact, urging you to give Gordon grace, just not too much.

“I’m here… unofficially,” The Captain started, taking a seat in one of the chairs in your office.

“Oh… kay.” You gave him a wary look. “Have I done something?”

“No! No. I just…” He looks uncomfortable, crossing his legs. “It’s about you and Gordon.”

You flush quickly, clearing your throat.

“Not anything serious! Just… he hasn’t had a girlfriend or anything in, like… a long time.”

“Why are you telling me this?” You tilt your head at him, curious.

“Just… asking you to give him a little time. Grace, even. Just not too much. He’s no good at this kind of thing.”

“Women?” tumbles from your mouth, unbidden, but thankfully, he just laughs as he stands.

“Yeah. It’s definitely good to give him a couple of days, but… he gets in his head a lot.” 

He’d headed for your office door. “I’m sure I’ll see you around, Lieutenant.”

He groans, putting his head in his hands. “Of course he did.”

“Your friends like to meddle.”

“Some of those people are your friends, too,” he points out, sighing as he raises his head.

You hum an acknowledgment, leaning into his side. “If it helps, it’s not like I’ve had a new relationship in a long time, either.”

You can feel him relax just a little, hands dropping from his face. “This is still mortifying.”

“Yeah, definitely.”

“I should kill him.”

“Murder is a little far,” you chuckle, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his scruffy cheek before patting his knee and moving to stand. “Come on. I booked some sim time to decompress, let's go together. I’ve got this really cool hack-and-slash sim based off a 21st-century video game we can do.”

He looks excited, which is a relief to you, quickly moving to follow. “Sounds like a plan. I love that kind of stuff.”

You grin, shaking your head. “I know. It’ll be our first date.”

His grin widens, and you have a feeling this will be the most fun first date you’ve been on… probably ever.

[zabo-writes]

Bad Boys Fae Bakery Part 1

Tango was feeling tired and sluggish and overall terrible. He was far due for some caffeine. After all, it was only 10 AM. He’d been up all night doing redstone, and he couldn’t very well stop when he was on a roll! This seemed like a good time to check out that cafe Etho was always going on about…

What was it he had said again? “It’s a pretty good cafe, but watch out for those baristas! There’s something going on with them, if you know what I mean.”

Tango nodded solemnly at the cheeky vision of Etho that appeared in his brain.

The “Bad Boys Bakery and Cafe” was quite a sight. The sign appeared to be hand-painted. In a rush. By a blindfolded second grader. Respectfully. The inside was warm and inviting, decorated with some nice lanterns. It seemed nice ish. Tango wasn’t really a decorations type of guy. There was an Etho seated in the corner, Tango gave him a wave.

“Welcome to the Bad Boys Bakery! We’re the Bad Boys, and we make a mean cup of coffee, or whatever you fancy!”

The barista at the counter had fluffy blonde hair and big brown puppy dog eyes. He wore a black leather jacket and dark sunglasses — that was certainly a choice, but Tango thought he pulled it off pretty well. He was pretty cute. Maybe that’s what Etho had been talking about, the thing going on with the baristas. Too charming for their own good.

“Hey there! I’d like whatever has the most caffeine, please and thank you.”

The barista— “Jimmy” according to his name tag— laughed and pulled out a cup and a sharpie. “Okay, okay! I’m picking up what you’re putting down. How’s an iced coffee?”

Tango pretended to think for a second, “Hmmm, I suppose! You’re the expert.”

Jimmy gave him a shy smile. Now, maybe it was the 18 hour fugue state talking, but Tango was starting to think this guy was into him.

“You got it, boss! And can I get your name?”

Already on a name basis? Total score! Or not. Maybe that’s just how coffee shops worked. “The name’s Tango!” He paused, winked, and continued, “of the ‘Tek’ variety.”

The barista looked far too ecstatic for someone taking a name for a coffee order. “TangoTek? Is your name TangoTek?!”

Tango laughed. Maybe his sleep-deprived charms were more effective than he’d thought. “You got it, buddy!”

“Oh my god. Yes! Okay! Thank you. Thank you so much, you have no idea. Uh, your coffee will be right out.” The barista practically ran into the back of the cafe shouting, “JOEL, GRIAN!! You aren’t going to believe this, but it WORKED!”

Tango shook his head fondly, and walked over to sit across from Etho.

“Did you see that, dude? That barista was totally into me.”

Etho peeked an eye out from between his fingers— his face had been buried in his hands for some reason. “I dunno Tango, but I think you’ve definitely made his day.” Etho responded, holding back breathy laughter.

“What? What do you mean? Why are you laughing at me, huh?!”

Etho smiled his stupid smug grin that he did when he knows something you don’t. Jerk. “Oh nothing, nothing! You’ve just given me some… interesting data for a theory I’m testing.”

Tango groaned, “Ugh, fine, fine, spare me! ! I can barely understand your wack job social experiments when my brain isn’t spaghetti.”

After a few minutes, Jimmy called his name at the counter.

“There you go! Uh, just a sec though, I have a bit of a request for you Mr. Tan-go-tek, is that okay?” Jimmy seemed nervous. No clue why, though. Also, Tango liked the way he said his name. Made him feel like he’d do anything in the world for this guy he just met.

“For you? Anything. What’s up?”

Jimmy looked at him intently, “when you come back some time, do you think you bring some wheat seeds? I know it’s a bit of weird ask, but it would help me out enormously.”

Tango grinned reassuringly. Wheat seeds. That was easy! He could do that next time he stopped by, no problem. “You got it! A stack of wheat seeds, coming right up.”

He tried to wave at Etho as he left, but Etho was currently shaking from a fit of uncontrollable laughter. What a weirdo. Tango picked up some wheat seeds on the way home.

[karespocketboyfriends]

𝚃𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚃𝚘 𝙼𝚎

𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 2024 𝙳𝚊𝚢 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗

Sylus X Evie (OC)

Warnings -> 18+ NSFW (Dirty talk, voice kink, use of ‘sir’/‘sweetie’/‘kitten’), situationship dynamic

An original fan-fiction for Love and Deepspace. I appreciate reblogs but reposting to Tumblr or any other site is not okay with me.

Logically, throwing my phone at the wall will not fix it.

Emotionally, however, it will make me feel better.

But a broken phone means I won’t be able to listen to the audiobook I purchased the other day, if I can even get it to work. It was playing just fine at home, but now that I’m at the base, it’s been refusing to load. Or rather, it’s loading, but the audio isn’t working.

I let out a long, deep exhale and close my eyes for a moment, trying to summon the patience not to crush my phone between my hands - not that I’m strong enough to do such a thing. I should have given up several minutes ago. Listening to a spicy audio book isn’t necessary to get my work done, but it sure would make the mind numbing list of tasks I had to do today easier.

At least the scenery is different tonight. Instead of my office at the base, my paperwork and I are occupying the large kitchen counter of Sylus’ private suite in the hotel. His hotel, where an important meeting is currently taking place. It’s not very often that I skip out on a meeting, but from time to time, the boss will ask me to hang back. This is one of those times.

The sound of the front door opening and closing has me looking over my shoulder. Sylus strolls languidly into the kitchen, his black ‘Boss Man’ jacket hanging off his shoulders. His expression is calmly neutral, not a hint of a clue as to how the meeting went.

I put my phone screen-side down on the marble counter and give him my undivided attention. “Welcome back, Sir. How did it go?”

“As expected. I refused his offer.”

I nod my head in understanding. Even over the phone, while I was arranging the meeting last week, the other party sounded kinda fishy. “I’m sorry it went that way, Sir. Hopefully the next one will be worth your while.”

Sylus tilts his head, a playful smile pulling at his lips. “You know, something rather interesting happened during the meeting. It was right at the crux of it, too.”

I twist in the stool until I’m facing him completely. “Oooh, there’s tea.”

“My phone pinged as if it had synced up to something. Then, a man’s voice came through the speaker. He was saying some rather… explicit things.” He taps his finger against his temple. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you, Evie?”

I blink up at him. Feel the blood drain from my face. Reach behind me for my phone. “Can’t say that I do, Sir.”

“No? But it sounded so much like those novels you love so much.” Sylus grips the edge of the counter on either side of me, heat warming his eyes. “I didn’t realize you enjoyed listening to those scenes, too.”

Fuck. Fuck.

I swallow and pretend I don’t want to throw myself out the window at this very moment. I don’t think the janitorial staff would appreciate having to clean my guts off the sidewalk. “He just has a nice voice, that’s all.”

That only makes him more amused. “Oh, so it’s his voice you like.” Sylus leans in closer, and I shiver as his breath tickles my ear. “And here I thought you preferred mine.”

My thighs squeeze together on their own accord. Sylus’ voice is perfection. It’s deep and makes my stomach do flips, a wonderful mix of velvety and husky and makes my heart race against itself.

I subconsciously lick my lips, and his eyes track the movement. “I do prefer your voice, Sir.”

With a hum, he pulls back a little and looks at me. He doesn’t drop the cage that is his arms, though. His gaze flicks down for a moment, smirk growing when he realizes what kind of reaction he’s getting. My breath hitches, heart starting to pound.

“That makes me very happy, sweetie.” He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, trails his fingers down my cheek. “Stories are nice, but if you want to hear such naughty things, then you don’t need to turn to someone else to have those needs met.”

I can’t help but squirm, my body’s natural reaction to the whirlwind of feelings rushing through me. “L-Like what?”

Sylus chuckles and moves his hand to my chin, angling my head to bring me closer to his lips. “Like how tempting you are when you show me those eyes. It makes me want to strip you down and ruin you.”

Lust makes my eyelids grow heavy. “Go on.”

He smiles and traces my lips with his thumb. “I’ll start slow. Tease you with my lips and fingers until you’re begging for me in that pretty voice of yours.”

I sink my teeth into my lower lip, trying to suppress the moan bubbling on the tip of my tongue. The imagery his words bring is delightful.

“Then, I’ll take my time tasting every single inch of you. I won’t stop until I find the sweetest spot.” Sylus draws a slow line down my chest, working his way to my stomach. “And when I find that spot, I’ll keep going until you come.”

I’m panting now, my jeans suddenly too tight. A dull pulse starts in the pit of my stomach, one I recognize well.

Sylus keeps going with the verbal torture, dragging his finger down past my belly button, being ever careful with my piercing. “And only after you’ve come for me like a good girl, will I give you the rest of me. I’ll satisfy you so deeply, you’ll think of me when you pick up a book again.”

This time, I can’t stop the moan. My voice is breathy and shaky when I regain enough sanity to respond. “I-It sounds like you’ll be walking away with a lot of scratches, Sir.”

He lifts my hand to his mouth and presses a light kiss to the back of it. “From you, kitten, scratches are a prize.” Hands dipping beneath my thighs, Sylus lifts me from the stool and sets me right on the counter.

I squeak, but don’t fight him. “B-But, your other meetings-”

“Can wait.” He cuts me off, eyes narrowing as he helps me discard my jeans. “I’m in the mood for a feast right now.”

SFW Masterlist || NSFW Masterlist || Kinktober

[sinsiriuslyemo]

Title: What Dreams Are Made Of

Pairing: Jim Gordon/Detective!Reader

Rating: PG13 (language)

Summary: When GCPD gets a new transfer, Jim worries she could be another corrupt cop. He worries even more when he finds himself attracted to her.

Notes: I had this dream last and I knew I wanted to use it in a piece, but wasn't sure what kind of story it would be. But I started writing down the dream because, even though I remembered it vividly, I knew I would eventually forget all the details. It was crazy that I even remembered all the details. I usually very very rarely remember my dreams. Anyway, here we are. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: none

Any time a new detective transferred into the GCPD, it was always the flip of a coin. Just about everyone in the department was on the take in one way or another, including Jim’s own partner, which didn’t exactly bode well for trust between the two of them. So when Captain Simonson informed him that there was an incoming transfer coming in that day, he had tried to taper his expectations. Having just made Sergeant, he didn’t want to make waves, at least not yet. Not when it was only him and Stephens that would be standing up. The new transfer hailed from Starling City, in Washington state, and apparently was a bit of a rockstar with great promise. What Jim found curious was why you chose to transfer.

He had read your personnel file; you were young, evidently sharp, and even had a few commendations, including the Medal of Valor for talking down a gunman at a bank robbery in progress during your off hours. He imagined you had been well on a path to making Detective First Grade within the next year or two, and yet you chose to transfer to an entirely different city, in a different state. And one all the way across the country to boot. And what he wanted to know more than anything else was why.

As far as he knew there was no rampant corruption in Starling, at least not among the SCPD. Not like there was in Gotham. The only thing he could think of was that you were running from something, though what that could possibly be, he couldn’t discern. Still, the commissioner himself had been the one to approve the transfer, and according to some, the Captain had been quite reluctant to accept it.

The one thing he didn’t expect when you walked into the squad room — in your button-down flannel and fitted jeans, shield clipped to your belt — was how breath-takingly beautiful you were. He found himself blinking several times to ensure he wasn’t imagining it, and was unable to look away from you as you carried a box to the empty desk that was opposite Ramirez’s. Swallowing and clearing his throat, he forced himself to look back down at the case file he was supposed to be reviewing.

A moment later, a knock at his door demanded his attention. He looked up as Captain Simonson opened the door. “Gordon, we just got a tip; the Maroni’s are moving a shipment of dope down at the docks. I want you to check it out. Call for backup if you see anything go down.”

Jim tried to keep his expression neutral as he nodded. The Maroni family were long term rivals of Carmine Falcone, the mob boss who ran Gotham all but in name. Despite his willingness to get any mobsters off the street, Jim knew Simonson was only asking because it was Maroni. Had it been Falcone he’d have been told to stand down.

“Flass is still at the DA’s office, we’ll go when he gets back,” he answered.

“No, Flass will be with the DA prepping for trial for a while longer. Take the rookie with you. She needs to be broken in.”

Jim’s expression fell, his eyes flickering to where you were just finishing unpacking your box. “Captain, I really think I should wait for Flass —”

“No time. Get going, Sergeant, that’s an order.” Without waiting for a response, he walked away, back to his own office.

Jim slowly took a breath, letting it out in a sigh as he stood and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. As he put it on, he eyed the way you organized your desk while talking to Ramirez. With another deep breath, he steeled his nerves and walked out of his office.

“Detective,” he said as he came up to your desk.

When you turned to look back at him, he nearly lost his breath. You were even more beautiful up close, and after a moment, you smiled up at him and stood, holding out your hand.

“Y/F/N.”

“Just getting to know our new addition, Sarge,” Ramirez said, but he barely heard her.

Shaking your hand, he swallowed at the shock that he got when your skin touched his. “We got a tip about a drug shipment down at the docks. Captain wants me to test out your skills.”

Maybe if he just kept things professional, he could get through this stakeout without becoming too interested in you. He could ignore how attractive you were while he dug into your motive for transferring if he just kept things professional.

“Oh great!” you answered, grabbing your jacket off your desk. There was an eager smile on your face that made his stomach do a somersault. “Let’s do it.”

Nodding once, he led you out of the precinct and out to his car, trying to ignore his heart beating a bit faster than normal as the two of you buckled in.

“So, who are we looking to collar?” you asked, looking over at him.

“Some associates of the Maroni family, they’re —”

“Rivals of the Falcone family,” you said with a nod.

“Yeah,” he said, turning on the car.

“Hey, maybe it’s just cause I’m new and all, but… I was checking out GCPD’s arrests over the last year, and it seems like there were a lot more of Maroni’s guys picked up than there were any of Falcone’s guys.”

He cut his eyes to you in interest. So maybe you really were just a transfer and not just another corrupt cop trying to take advantage of the situation in Gotham. Although you may have been testing him. You must’ve thought he protested your claims with his expression because yours changed in an instant, going from curious to relenting.

“I mean, like I said, it’s probably just that I’m new and don’t know how things work around here. I just —”

“Falcone basically runs Gotham,” he said simply, still keeping his walls up. The last thing he needed was to show you his hand too quickly.

“Oh,” you replied, licking your lips before you joked, “and how long’s he been on the force?” You chuckled nervously.

He couldn’t help the way one side of his lips quirked upward. “This could be a long night. Stop for a coffee?”

“Yeah,” you replied, offering a polite smile.

Stopping at a bodega, you got out before he could, telling him that you would treat since he was driving. He wasn’t sure whether it was a tradition from SCPD that you assumed was the same here in Gotham, but he hadn’t really had a chance to protest before you were out of the car and striding into the bodega. A few minutes later, you came out with two cups of coffee and a brown bag. Did you buy snacks too?

“I forgot to ask how you take it, so I got you everything on the side,” you said, placing the cups one by one into the holders in the center console, and the brown bag at your feet.

“Thank you,” he said, turning on the ignition again and pulling back onto the street.

For a while, the drive was silent as he made his way through Gotham traffic and thought up how he would go about asking you for details about your transfer. He knew there had been a recent opening filed into the system, but thought the chances of someone in Starling seeing it was pretty slim.

“By the way, I never asked your name, Sarge,” you said, looking over at him.

He cast you a sideways glance as he turned into an alleyway that led to the docks. “Gordon. Jim Gordon.”

“Jim,” you whispered.

He swallowed as a shiver fell over him and pushed down the thrill that ignited in his chest at the sound of you saying his name. He turned his head to look at you with an arched brow.

“I-I mean Sergeant Gordon,” you corrected.

He pulled up behind the docks, tucked in the alley where you could still have a clear vantage point of the dock as well as who came in and out without being seen. Putting the car in park, he shut off the engine and took the lid off one of the coffee cups as you put the brown bag on top of the center armrest. He glanced up thankfully and rummaged in the bag for his usual cream and two sugars.

“You mind if I ask you something, Detective?” he asked as he opened a cream and dumped it into his coffee, satisfied when it immediately began to turn a lighter color.

“Sure,” you answered, picking up your own coffee, peeling off the lid and beginning to carefully blow over the top.

“You take it black?” he asked, noting that you hadn’t reached into the bag.

“Oh...” you chuckled, lifting your cup in a mock toast. “Yeah.”

“Huh.” Damn it, Gordon, focus! What you need to know is why she transferred, not how she takes her fucking coffee! “That’s not what I wanted to ask you.”

“Oh,” you replied, looking back at him.

“Why Gotham?” he asked, looking into the bag and pulling out a stirrer. Jesus, you really had brought him everything. “I looked in your jacket, you had a good thing going at SCPD. Great marks from the Academy, commendations…”

You shrugged. “Yeah…”

“You probably would’ve made First Grade in a couple years. So why come all the way across the country just to start over?”

“I don’t mind having to start over,” you said with a shrug.

“Okay, but why?” he asked again. “Most cops I know would at least wait to make First Grade before putting in for a lateral transfer. Especially with a Medal of Valor.”

You smiled to yourself. “I didn’t need a Medal of Valor, I was just doing my job.”

“You were off-duty.”

“Just because I was off-duty, doesn’t mean I stopped being a cop,” you answered.

Your answer seemed promising. Maybe you weren’t just another bent cop, trying to get in on the action in Gotham City. Still, he kept his guard up, not quite ready to consider you a possible ally. He tried not to notice how adorable you looked when you scrunched up your nose against the steam as you took a tentative sip from your cup.

“Fair enough. You still haven’t answered my question.”

You paused for a moment, eyes pointed toward the entrance of the dock. Whatever he thought your answer might have been, it was nowhere near the one you gave him.

“A few months back, I dreamt that I was trying to get across this huge cliff, but I had my video camera in my hand. I thought if I could make my way across this cliff with my camera, I’d be fine. Only as I started to climb across, eventually I realized I wasn’t holding my camera anymore. I look down and there it is, floating in the ocean at least 100 feet below me. I panic and start thinking about what to do. I mean, it’s my camera! All my memories are in there, and I want to take them with me across this cliff. So, I figure I’d go down to get it and then just climb back up. Easy, right? I just had this gut feeling that I’d jumped from this same cliff, into the water a thousand times before, this time would be no different, right?

“So I decided to go down and get it. And as I’m falling I realize that I had never fallen this far before, and how the hell am I gonna get back up the cliff?! My body starts to change angle in the air and I fall into the water on my back. So I start trying to swim back up, except hitting the water didn’t do much to slow my momentum and I start to sink, fast. I feel like I’m being pushed down by an invisible weight on my chest, and no matter how hard I try to swim against this weight, I can’t get to the surface. I woke up right as I realized I was drowning.”

Jim’s brows were furrowed behind the rim of his glasses, his mouth agape as he stared back at you. “You transferred to Gotham…” he started to slowly reiterate, “...because you had a dream that you drowned?”

You nodded, a small breath of laughter flowing through your lips as you brought your mug up for a sip of coffee.

“I don’t get it,” he said, shaking his head.

“Neither did I, at first. For a second I thought maybe I had just stopped breathing in my sleep and woke myself up,” you answered. “But then I remembered that I didn’t gasp for air when I woke up, I just… woke up. So, I rolled over and went back to sleep. Got up about four hours later, did the whole morning routine, sat on my couch for twenty minutes, staring at the wall, like always —”

“Staring at the wall?”

“Yeah, my brain functionality is usually just under 50% in the mornings, so I have to sit on my couch and stare at the wall for twenty minutes while I drink my tea, just to get myself to at least 75% brain functionality before I go to work. Anyway…”

His mustache shifted as an amused smile settled on his lips while you continued.

“I was sitting on my couch, staring at the wall and I couldn’t stop thinking about this dream. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered about what it could mean, if it meant anything at all. So I started googling, of course, and most of the sources I found said that dreaming about drowning could be symbolic of some kind of exhaustion or a feeling of losing control. But that didn’t make sense, so I started to think about other parts of the dream, like the video camera. It was definitely mine. I recognized it right away. I remember holding it, thinking, ‘I cannot drop this thing, it has all my memories that I want to take with me to the other side. I cannot drop it.’

“But the strange thing is, I don’t remember when I dropped it. I just know that when I reached out for that first grip, it wasn’t in my hand anymore, but I didn’t even notice that I was supposed to be holding it until I was already halfway across this cliff. That was when I remembered, ‘holy shit! I was supposed to climb and hold the camera, but I must’ve dropped it right away!’ That was when I looked down and saw it floating on a wave.

“And in my head I’m thinking, ‘well, Y/N, you fucked that up. It’s done, it’s gone. Even if you got it back, it’s ruined. It’s not gonna work anymore, dumbass.’”

His smile that he tried to keep under control widened slightly as a chuckle shook his chest. Jesus, why did you have to be so cute? Not just that, but you effortlessly showed off your detective skills just from relaying your reaction to a damn dream.

“But then I thought, ‘well the SD card might still work. It might still have at least some memories on it.’”

“I take it that’s when you jumped?”

“Yeah, but that’s another thing. The more I thought about all the details of this dream, the clearer it all became,” you answered. “And I realized that I didn’t jump. I let go.”

“I’m still not seeing what this has to do with you transferring to GCPD,” he said.

You looked away as though a clearer explanation was sitting on the dashboard, your eyes lighting up a moment later before your eyes turned back to him.

“Ever since I was a kid, I’ve wanted to leave Starling. I wanted to see other places, I wanted to have new experiences. So when I saw that Gotham was open to taking lateral transfers, I thought, ‘why not? I’ll apply. What’s the worst that could happen? They say no?’”

“Sure.”

“But when they didn’t say no… when they said yes, I started to have doubts. I started panicking, wondering if it was the right move or whether I was just making a rash decision without really thinking it through,” you said.

“Right,” he replied with a single nod.

“I think the other side of the cliff was the job at GCPD, the camera was my life back in Starling City, or maybe just the parts that I wanted to bring with me but couldn’t. And me letting go of my path to the other side and drowning was what would happen if I didn’t take this transfer,” you said.

“Interesting,” he replied with a slow, single nod.

“I know it sounds weird, okay? I never said it wasn’t weird.” You chuckled softly, picking at the lip of your coffee cup.

“It’s not that weird,” he replied after a moment, taking a sip from his own cup as he turned his eyes toward the entrance of the dock.

“But was it a good-enough reason for you, Sarge?” you asked softly, offering a polite smile when he looked back at you.

“Yeah, sure it was,” he said, nodding. “It’s like I said, Carmine Falcone basically runs Gotham. Your transfer with the record you have just seemed…” He tried to find the most appropriate word that would be least likely to offend you. “Unusual. I guess I just wanted to know whether you were gonna be just another dirty cop that I can’t trust.”

You nodded slowly. “I guess that’s fair.” Your eyes shifted to the entrance and you nodded toward it. “Looks like our first guest has just arrived.”

He followed your gaze as the car parked in front of the dock, their lights turning off. “As soon as his date gets here, you come around from behind the car, I’ll cover the front.”

“Got it,” you answered as he called for backup. When he set the radio back in its holster, you looked up at him. “So, did I pass your test?”

The corner of his lips formed another smirk as he looked back toward their suspect’s car, just as a boat pulled into the dock. “I guess we’re about to find out.”

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Great Hunt! Chapter 30: Daes Dae'mar

Putting on that fancy jacket sure was a mistake, huh? Everyone knows you're up to something now. Oh you can say you're just an innocent lamb, but that's just what a scheming noble would say. Consider this post an invitation. Accept it, and I'll give you all my Wheel of Time spoilers. Decline and... I won't really be able to do anything because I have no way of knowing when someone sees this and moves on. I didn't think this through. But I guess you won't be spoiled for the whole series, so if that's your goal, that's nice.

Another rising sun chapter because we're in Cairhien. I hope these icons start getting a little more obscure soon.

The Illuminators were on everyone’s tongues in the city, even now, days after the night when they had lofted only one nightflower into the sky, and that early. A dozen different versions of the scandal were being told, discounting minor variations, but none close to the truth.

Note how distorted these tales are in comparison to the Seanchan because of how much is being deliberately kept in secrecy.

It was an effort for Rand not to sigh again. “Hurin, I’m sorry. I should not have shouted at you.”

This whole conversation is of course a microcosm of Rand's upcoming dealings with humanity as a whole and a rehearsal for when Rand gets really shitty to Hurin much, much later.

“He hasn’t done that before. Loial, do you think he was listening at the door before he knocked?”

As Loial says, Rand is starting to understand how the game is played. That said, Cuale probably was just freaking out over the senders of the invitations more than eavesdropping.

“Whatever they make of it, at least it’s the same for everybody. I am not for anyone in Cairhien, and I am not against anyone.”

You can't blame the kid for trying I suppose. But this is just the Pattern trying to teach Rand that he doesn't get to sit in holding patterns and have everything work out. He's got to move forward and act.

With most Houses, it wouldn’t matter. Even when they’re plotting against each other to the knife, they act like they aren’t, out where everybody can see. But not these two.

Again, Rand doesn't get to just wait it out. He has to make a decision.

“I won’t break the seals. That way, they will know I have not answered either one yet. As long as they are waiting to see which way I jump, maybe I can earn a few more days. Ingtar has to come soon. He has to.”

Of course, Rand really doesn't want to learn any lessons at all, so he's still kicking and screaming.

After a moment, he pulled the two invitations from his pocket and studied the seals, then stuck them back.

This chapter uses the word "seal" so much that I'm trying to find a way to tie it into the actual seals but so far I've got nothing. Rand does hang onto the unbroken seals he finds, but his hesitance in breaking those is a lot more about not being ready for the final boss fight yet than refusal to play and he doesn't really showboat with them for obvious reasons.

He avoided thinking of the way he might, just might, deal with ten Trollocs. It had not worked when he tried to help Loial, after all.

At least his denial here is based on practicality instead of just pigheadedness.

Rand thought a man, dressed in what had once been good Shienaran clothes, ducked back into the crowd at the sight of him, but he could not be sure.

Almost certainly that's exactly what Rand saw, and the news that he and Loial are so far away from the Horn spread quickly.

“It is my pleasure to do what I may,” the man said with his false smile.

The question here is, is he outright lying of his own accord because that's what he always does or is he being specifically instructed from above not to cooperate?

Moiraine, he thought bitterly. She’s still causing me trouble. Almost immediately, though, if reluctantly, he admitted that she could hardly be blamed for this. There had always been some reason to pretend to be what he was not. First keeping Hurin’s spirits up, and then trying to impress Selene. After Selene, there had not seemed to be any way out of it.

Points to Rand for having the self-awareness to admit that all Moiraine did was give him the rope to hang himself with. All things considered, many would just be angry with her and move on with their lives from there.

Thom’s nephew had lasted almost three years by channeling only when he thought he had to. If Owyn had managed to limit how often he channeled, it must be possible to not channel at all, no matter how seductive saidin was.

Well sure Rand, but you've literally just established that you have a hard time not using every available tool at your disposal so plot-convenient ultra-heroin is probably not a drug you can just take a little hit of at parties, you know?

The closer they came, the more certain it was, until they rounded the last stone-terraced corner and there was The Defender of the Dragonwall, smoke pouring out of its upper windows and flames breaking through the roof.

If Tuon were here, she'd likely explain to Rand that a military-themed inn bursting into flame was a Seanchan omen foretelling the fall of its city to the depicted enemy within the year.

She's not here, thank the Light, but that's probably what she'd say and she'd be right.

The common room hardly seemed as if the building were on fire. The double line of men stretched up the stairs, passing their buckets, and others scrambled to carry out what furniture was left, but there was no more smoke down here than if something had been burning the kitchen.

The Cairhieniens are probably pretty big on fire safety after the last invasion anyway. Without industrial pipes and hydrants to supply water for you, city fires can be downright apocalyptic.

“You cannot carry Hurin and the chest both, Rand.” The Ogier shrugged. “Besides, I won’t leave my books to burn.”

The books are obviously Loial's number one priority here but he has the decency to feel a bit guilty about that.

The banner was still in there. The banner of the Dragon. Let it burn, he thought, and an answering thought came as if he had heard Moiraine say it. Your life may depend on it. She’s still trying to use me. Your life may depend on it. Aes Sedai never lie.

Yeah this boy can't even leave behind the thing that would get him killed anywhere in the known world for possessing it. No way he's not going to be shooting up ultra-heroin every chance he gets even if his life didn't turn into an epic fantasy.

The onlookers stared at him, with his face blackened and his coat covered with smut, but he staggered to where Loial had propped Hurin against the wall of a house across the street.

I'd be staring too, who walks around with a coat covered in por-

"A small flake of soot or other dirt".

Oh. Do you know this may be literally the only time I've ever seen this word used in its non-sexy context?

Rand felt a shiver run through him. “It’s too late,” he told them. “You came too late.” And he sat down in the street and began to laugh.

It's cool Rand, nobody is going to think your acting like a crazy person is suspicious behavior AT ALL.

[fivefeetfangirl]

In my secret good supernatural where Sam discovers his psychic powers when he's a kid. Read on ao3. Written for samweek2023 @ghostsam @suncaptor

“Dean! Dean, dean!”

The door slammed shut behind Sam and he kicked off his shoes, hurriedly shook off his jacket. He threw the backpack on his bed, forgetting everything about homework.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” came Dean’s voice from the bathroom. 

“You’re not gonna believe it!” 

Sam almost jumped up and down from excitement. 

“Believe what?” Dean asked, wiping his hands on his jeans as he entered the room. 

Sam took Dean’s still slightly wet hand and dragged him over to the beds.

“At school today one of the bullies started teasing my friend-”

“He didn’t do anything to you?” Dean asked, searching his little brother’s face for bruises. 

“No. no, just let me tell the story,” Sam said and sat Dean down on the bed. He sat down beside Dean, his feet barely grazing the floor beside Dean’s well-planted feet. 

“So, the bully started to tease my friend,” Sam began again. “And I didn’t like that, ‘cause he’s my friend, and I care about him!”

Dean nodded as Sam fervently told his story.

“And I took Collin by his arm to get away from Jake, ‘cause Jake was about to punch him, so we ran through the hallway,” Sam’s hands excitedly gestured according to his voice, “but Jake followed us!”

Dean leaned back on his arms, eyes focused on his little brother.

“I dragged Collin after me, but I went the wrong way and suddenly we were trapped in the classroom.” Sam’s eyes widened as he went silent, waiting for Dean to say something. 

Dean just stared back, raising his brows in question.

“What happened?” Dean asked after neither of them said anything. 

“You’re not gonna believe it!”

“So, what happened?”

“It was so cool, Dean!”

“Sam, come on, tell me.”

“I locked the door with my mind. I didn’t touch the door, I didn’t have the key, I just thought about it, and it closed and locked itself.”

“What?” Dean stuttered. “With your mind?”

“Yeah!”

“No way.”

“I promise, I did it, Collin and Jake saw it too.”

“You have psychic powers?” Dean said almost sarcastically. 

“Dunno, it just happened. The teacher had to unlock the door and let us out, I promise I locked it with my mind!”

“Why didn’t you unlock it yourself?”

“I tried, but I couldn’t.” 

The boys went silent, Sam staring at his own hands. 

“Okay,” Dean clapped his hands together. He got up from the bed and got a spoon from the kitchen bench and put it on the nightstand. He sat down on the other bed, facing Sam. 

“Try moving this.” 

Sam squinted and focused on the spoon. His brow scrunched up in concentration.

Dean held his breath, unsure of what to think if it was true that Sam could move objects with his mind. 

“I swear, Dean! I did close the door with my mind, I promise,” Sam said after a long silence. 

When Dean noticed Sam almost started crying he rushed over to his side, wrapping his arm around Sam’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, I believe you Sammy.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll always believe you.”

“Thanks, Dean,” Sam said and hugged Dean back.

~~~

Two weeks went by and their dad had only been back once, just to leave the same day. Sam had wanted to tell him about what he had done, but Dean shook his head  slightly when he was about to, so he ended up not telling dad. 

“We can’t tell him yet,” Dean had said after dad had left. 

“Why not?”

“It would, you know, make him worry, and he worries a lot already.”

“Okay,” Sam answered, not bothering to argue with Dean. 

~~~

Another two weeks went by, still in the same motel. They usually never stayed that long, but Sam wasn’t complaining. He liked it here, a good school where he had some good friends. Dean had also been in a good mood and Sam liked it a lot better than when Dean was annoyed at him for everything he did. Instead he now usually had some food prepared for them when Sam got home from school. 

Today it was some toast with the special cheese Sam really liked. It was comforting sitting in silence, eating, the only sound being the crunch from the toasted bread. 

“Wow, easy tiger,” Dean laughed when Sam took a big bite of the toast. 

Sam smiled before he swallowed.

“Do you think I maybe just dreamed it?” he asked.

“Dreamed what?”

“The door thing.”

Dean hummed softly. 

“I don’t know what to think, Sam,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “I’ve never heard about it before.”

“Our lives aren’t exactly normal though,” Sam sighed. 

Dean got up from the table, plate in his hand. He placed the plate in the sink and rinsed it off. As he walked back he stumbled into the chair.

“Dean!”

Sam rose from his chair, and before Dean could hit the floor a pillow from the bed swooped in under him. 

Dean landed on the floor with a soft oomph. 

“You okay?” Sam asked, leaning down to help Dean up. 

“Was that you?” Dean’s eyes were round in shock. 

“I don’t know, it just happened.”

“Dude, it was awesome!” Dean said excitingly, clapping Sam on the shoulder. “Try it again.”

Dean’s leg went soft and he fell to the ground, the pillow ready to catch him where he landed.

“Yoo, Sam, this is so cool!” 

Sam laughed, feeling good now that Dean could believe him a hundred percent. 

“If you do it again I won’t bother catching you.”

Dean got up from the ground, an evil grin on his face. He wrapped his arm around Sam’s neck, rubbing his fist into his hair. 

Sam laughed, trying to wriggle away. 

“I’m never gonna leave the bed now when I have you to get me all my stuff,” Dean said, messing up Sam’s hair. 

Sam poked Dean’s side, making Dean loosen his grip, and they fell to the floor. Sam tried to get up but Dean dragged him down and started tickling him. 

“Dean! Dean, stop,” Sam managed to get out between laughs. 

And for a moment they could forget about the world of monsters outside the motel room, oblivious of the hours in the car that was ahead of them when their dad would get home, and just live in the moment where Sam having powers to move things with his mind was completely insignificant for their futures. 

[fictionkinfessions]

For post canons I suppose I can share one of my favorite post-fontaine story mems.

My assesment for becoming a Harbinger. It was a few years after fontaines canon. I think Traveler was in snezhnaya at the time, though I can't say if it was during its arc or after.

Harbinger assesments were part of the Fatuis annual gathering to test the harbingers, adjust rankings within, ect. Which meant Lynette and I got to fight as many Harbingers as we could get through. I remember details about each fight we faced, but One of them was my favorite.

My fight with Tartaglia. Now my Fontaine Arc was rather divergent, Tartaglia was handled differently, and we had gotten into a rather abusive relationship during his months there. Tartaglia of course denied it for years, and I have no memory of him ever coming to his senses about it, even after Aether stopped speaking with him.

Needless to say I used our required fight to get some much craved revenge. While even years later of no contact, he was still so angry, and thought he could finally "shut me up". Though I suppose I did decimate his reputation by being open about it ;p Even got him banned from returning to Fontaine by the Fatui. (the Fatui informed the court that should Tartaglia be seen he is to be sent back to Snezhnaya immediately, your boyfriend being the head of meropide certainly helped in ensuring fontaine complied with the request.)

Tartaglia was so blinded with rage during our battle that he gave up all his advantages inorder to go straight to his strongest form, foul legacy. And doing so was his downfall, as he lost all his movement and speed advantage over me, allowing me to get good range and just absolutely decimate him. It's surprisingly easy to overwhelm foul legacy with attacks too fast for the heavy form to retaliate against.

I did the other Harbingers a favor by putting him out of commision for a few days according to Father. He would apparently beg every other harbinger to fight until they taped his mouth shut every year.

I still think its funny that I was so ready to finally give him a taste of his own medicine that I completely forgot that Lynette was supposed to be fighting with me (as she counted as part of my ability, like dottores clones, or sandrones primary puppet).

Though Pierro should be grateful I forgot about that, or else he'd have more harbingers to replace. I could keep myself from killing him, but nobody stops Lynette when she wants to kill. Pierro just seemed very confused when Father and I mentioned that to him.

The other fights were all realy fun- Lynette being allowed to go all out is truly a terrifying sight. With the speed she has you'd think her vision were electro. Ever seen a woman of her stature cut through over a foot of solid metal before you could blink? She nearly distracted me in that fight when she did that- I know I was technically stronger than her, but I didnt take "you're allowed to kill eachother" as an invitation. (Sorry that she almost killed you btw Sandrone.)

And yet despite Lynettes terrifying speed- You would never think it. But Pulcinella? Even faster. That fight was over before we could really even get started. No Old Man should be allowed to be That Fast I swear. So of course, being defeated by Harbinger no.5, We were placed in seat 6. Ofc I held the title officially, and Lynette was just my primary assistant, but we were treated as a duo of harbingers by everyone anyway, even though I was the only one who got the big Harbinger jacket >:)

I don't think I'll ever remember future assesments, as my initiation is obviously the most important one. But I wouldn't mind getting more memories of fighting Tartaglia during them. Because the one in this timeline certainly deserved it.

While I'm here of course. Thank You, Pierro. For making sure I was comfortable. I get the feeling the other harbingers hated Tartaglia enough they wanted an excuse to remove him, and just didnt want to deal with the headache of removing him themselves- He was more trouble than he was worth after Fontaine if my hunch is right (truly a downside of delusions, hm?) And even if your kindness was only because of that, it is still very much appreciated.

~Lyney 🕯♟

s

[oregano-writes]

Tartaglia's Five-Step Plan for Wooing Morax- Chapter 3: Debt collecting

The first debtor that Childe had to visit was a man named Zhang Wei. The note Ekaterina had put by his address stated that he was a merchant, and he had left the country for months after taking out a loan. He had only recently returned, but had refused to meet with Ekaterina to discuss late fees, and hadn’t responded to any of the letters sent to his house. Childe was to let him know that the Northland Bank didn’t take kindly to people neglecting to pay them back.

Childe explained the situation to Zhongli, and how it was his job to go pay him a visit and get the money he owed them.

“Zhang Wei? I believe he was one of the salesmen who got a positive prediction in last year’s Rite of Descension. Rex Lapis would be disappointed if he saw how someone he favored betrayed Liyue’s ideals for his own financial gain.”

“Well then, you could say I’m doing Rex Lapis a favor.”

Zhongli smiled. “Yes, I do think you could say that.”

Is he always like this? He seems to think his false identity is funny. It would almost be endearing, if it weren’t for the fact he’s trying to lie to me.

“Well, then, I believe it’s time we finally got going.”

──────── ✧ ────────

When Childe and Zhongli arrived at Zhang Wei’s home, Childe was surprised to see that it’s owner did not appear to be making any attempt to conceal himself from detection. In fact, his home had all of it’s lights on, and he could hear people inside. It sounded like some sort of party, and one on the larger side at that. He would try to get Zhang Wei alone so as to not sully Northland’s reputation so completely, but if that failed he was amenable to making an example out of the man. The citizens of Liyue would do well to know not to cross the Fatui.

When Childe told Zhongli his plan, Zhongli nodded. “Is there anything in particular I could help with? I believe I would only be getting in your way if I attempted to assist you with the more… unsavory aspects of the job, but I would like to be of use.”

“Well, if you could distract the guests for a few minutes until I’m done, my job would definitely go much more smoothly.”

“Alright. And before we enter–” 

In one swift move, Zhongli had lifted his standard-issue Fatui mask off of his head, and ran his gloved hand through Childe’s unruly hair. 

“You still don’t look quite as put-together as would be expected of someone at one of these parties, but it is an improvement. Really, I don’t understand how the Tsaritsa allows her highest-ranking officers to walk around like you do.” With a pointed look at the unbuttoned bottom half of Childe’s jacket (It was hot in Liyue, alright?) Zhongli re-fastened Childe’s mask to his hair, patting a stubborn clump of hair back down. 

Childe stood still for a moment as he processed what had just happened, before blinking and realizing Zhongli had basically admitted his identity out loud. After all, who would insult an Archon in front of one of their strongest and most loyal followers other than another Archon?

“Well, respectable Mr. Zhongli of the Wangsheng funeral parlor, are you ready to crash a party with me?”

“If all goes according to plan, there will be no ‘crashing’. But yes, I am ready.”

“Well, then, let’s get started, shall we?”

──────── ✧ ────────

When Childe knocked on the door, he noticed how the silhouettes of the people inside seemed to still. When he heard someone walk over to the door, he turned to Zhongli. “This is your last chance to back out. You can still stay out here if you want. It wouldn’t do to have the esteemed Wangsheng consultant associating with the likes of me.” 

“Nonsense,” Zhongli replied. “I said I would help you, so that is what I will be doing.”

Childe nodded. “As long as you’re sure.”

Just then, the door swung open, and a man eyed the two of them warily. “Were you invited?”

Childe grinned at the man, holding back a laugh at how nervous he looked and how his gaze kept flicking to the mask on Childe’s hair. “We’re just here for the host, Zhang Wei. If everyone behaves, we’ll be in and out in just a few minutes.” 

The man looked over at Zhongli, seemingly hoping he would interfere, but Zhongli just shrugged as if to say it’s his fault for breaking a contract.

The man eventually let them in, and gestured weakly to one partygoer dressed especially extravagantly. “There’s your guy.��� 

“Thank you, you’ve been a big help.” Childe smiled again, watching as the man refused to meet his eyes. It was almost funny how much his gaze tended to put people off, but it definitely could be useful in some situations. 

Childe pushed through the brightly-dressed crowd with Zhongli following closely behind him. When they reached Childe’s target, the crowd immediately dispersed around the man, leaving Zhang Wei without backup. 

Childe smiled amicably at the man, his “dead fish eyes” (as Kuni had dubbed them) clearly unsettling him.

“What do you want?” he asked, clearly staring at Childe’s mask. 

“Zhang Wei, is it? It’s truly a relief to see you here. Why, with how you were ignoring our letters, we were afraid you might have died in a horrible accident!”

“I don’t have to give anything to Fatui scum like you,” Zhang Wei replied, eyes narrowing.

“Oh, that’s where you’re mistaken!” Childe replied cheerfully. “You owe us almost twenty million Mora, and you’ve been ignoring us for weeks. We won’t be going anywhere until you pay.” 

Zhang Wei flinched at Childe’s wording. Not pay us back. Just pay. Although, really it was his own fault for trying to pull something like this on a group like the Fatui– everyone knew that.

Childe reached out and grabbed his shirt collar, letting his signature Hydro dagger form in his free hand. “Now, are you going to make this easy for us, or will we have to resort to more unsightly measures? 

Zhang Wei froze, before turning to one of the partygoers who had stop to watch the situation. “Yichen, go get the Mora stash upstairs. You know the one.”

The man– Yichen, apparently– nodded, before hastily running up the stairs, coming back down a few moments later with a sack of Mora. “Will this be enough?”

Childe took the bag, opened it up, and decided there was no way he was bothering to count that much mora. An idea struck him, and he passed the bag to Zhongli. “How much mora do you think that is?”

Zhongli weighed the bag in his hand, before turning back to Childe. “Twenty-six million, four hundred eighteen thousand and thirty six.” At the looks he got from the crowd, he hastily added on a belated “More or less.”

Childe held back a laugh, and slapped a still-frazzled Zhang Wei on the back. “Good doing business with you!” he said, and turned around to walk out the door. Without thinking, he grabbed Zhongli’s hand, but just as he realized his mistake and was about to pull his hand away with some half-baked excuse about not wanting him to get lost in the crowd, Zhongli shifted his hand to interlock gloved fingers with Childe, and half-baked excuse died on Childe’s tongue. 

Childe and Zhongli left the house, Childe trying his best to ignore the fact that people were absolutely whispering about the loyal, honorable Mr. Zhongli holding hands with a Harbinger, and Zhongli not seeming to notice.

When they got outside, Childe sighed, letting go of Zhongli’s hand to muss up his hair again– no matter how often people told him how good his hair looked when he brushed it, he couldn’t concentrate when it was all perfect and neat.

“Is something wrong?” Zhongli asked, expression adorably confused. 

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Childe deflected easily. “Just disappointed I didn’t get a fight like I was hoping for. Maybe I’ll have to take you up on that offer to fight me.”

Zhongli smiled. “Maybe someday. But are you sure you’re alright? You look awfully red, and I doubt the Liyuean heat is comfortable for a Snezhnayan.”

Just as Childe was about to defend his pride and say that he was fine, he had an idea. 

“You’re right, Zhongli. It is really hot out. Maybe we could have lunch at your house instead?” He wouldn’t likely have many excuses to snoop around the Archon’s house, and it would be a wasted opportunity to not shoot his shot when Zhongli have him such a convenient cover story.

Zhongli blinked, surprised, before nodding. “That sounds good. We can pick up lunch from Wanmin to go.”

“That sounds perfect,” Childe replied easily.

──────── ✧ ────────

The first thing that stood out about Zhongli’s home was the sheer amount of stuff in it. If he had doubted Zhongli was really a dragon before, all those doubts would be well and gone now staring directly at his hoard. From Zhongli’s spending habits he’d assumed he might have a messy house, but not every-available-surface-covered-in-antiques messy.

Zhongli did not seem to think much of the clutter, carefully pushing some of the items away from the center of the table to make room for the food. 

Childe kept looking around as subtly as he could while they ate. None of the items alone were particularly suspicious, but so many of the themed pieces depicting the Adepti while Zhongli was often casually disrespectful to them in pubic would likely key in most people to the fact that something was up.

Childe and Zhongli talked for a while after that, Childe asking about different artifacts that caught his attention and Zhongli explaining their origins in frankly more detail than most people would care about. However, Childe was a weak, weak man, and Zhongli had a very nice voice, and so he sat and dutifully listened to every monologue about Liyue’s sources of clay or methods of relief sculpture until the sun had almost fully set, at which point Childe began to pack up his things to leave, only to be stopped by Zhongli.

“Childe, it is quite late, and much too dark to be walking around. If you would like, you could stay the night instead.”

“I- What? Where would you sleep, then?” Childe asked, hoping his nervousness didn’t leak through into his voice.

“I have a good deal of work that remains to be completed, so I will not likely be sleeping at all tonight.”

Childe would have felt bad about wasting Zhongli’s time if it wasn’t clear that the extra work was likely a cover story for some sort of archon magic that caused him to not require sleep. He had never heard of the Tsaritsa sleeping, so it stood to reason that Zhongli would not need to either.

“Alright then. If you need me you’ll know where to find me.” 

──────── ✧ ────────

As Childe sat in bed and thought about the day’s events, one small but worrying detail popped out at him. Even though he had tried to be careful about remembering who Zhongli really was, he wasn’t referring to him in his head as ‘Morax’ anymore. That couldn’t be good, could it? He had to befriend him for his plan, but getting attached would almost certainly lead to more issues down the line.

Childe sighed, and turned over onto his side, face resting on the pillow which unhelpfully smelled like glaze lilies just like the man in question.

This whole situation was going to become a huge pain, wasn’t it.

[steampunk-swift-arrow]

Fanfic: F-it! Un-Tom King's Your Riddler!

(Since AO3 has been down due to attacks, here's a fic that I wrote a while back and just haven't posted yet)

Summery: I really hated Tom King’s Riddler origin story so I wrote my own. Skips over the actual origin and just talks about the current time. Somewhat hurt/comfort

Warnings: mentions of cancer, chemotherapy, and fear of death.

Characters: Riddler and Batman

Word count: 2090

“Hey, my daughter really liked that last one,” the guard bringing him lunch informed him. “‘What’s got a bottom at its top?’ She’s been running around saying it and shouting out ‘Legs’, real cute.”

Edward was a flight risk, his cell was never allowed to be opened. It felt demeaning to sit at the door and then pull in the tray of food like an animal. “I thought the cleverness of that one might resonate with some people,” he commented. “She sounds like a smart little girl.”

“She is,” the guard was more than happy to talk about his daughter for a minute. A proud father. Edward was a little envious. “Got any others like that? Y’know, dirty but like kid-dirty. She loves a good fart joke.”

“I can’t say that any springs to mind but I’ll think on it,” Edward told him. “I don’t have much else to do right now.”

~-~-~

“A straightjacket? Really? Commissioner Gordon, I feel I should remind you that I have a history of escaping those, in case you actually expect that to work, I don’t want to disappoint you,” Edward said as he eyed the white jacket. Why was it always white? Was it really too much for them to make straight jackets in colors?

Arkham put him in one often enough he was pretty sure they owed him a fully customized one, green with purple accents and an actual challenge to escape. Maybe he’d have it made and sent to them for next time.

As much as he was annoyed with the jacket, at least it wasn’t a tranq gun or knock-out drugs.

“We’ll start with rubber bullets,” Gordon said.

“That won’t be necessary, I have no intention of fighting you,” Edward assured him. “I’d very much like to talk to Batman, if you’d be so kind as to call him.”

Gordon paused and seemed to study him for a second. “I’ll call him if you agree to wear the straightjacket,” he bargained.

Edward sighed. He really didn’t want to let someone get close enough to put that on him, not right now, but there wasn’t an actual choice. “I accept your terms,” he agreed.

He was definitely going to be late for his appointment and he desperately needed it.

~-~-~

It wasn’t fair. The treatment was supposed to help him but it left him feeling just as tired, if not more tired, than when it started. It took every fiber of strength that he had, more than he thought he even possessed, to try to hide the pain and fatigue he was going through. He didn’t want to appear weak in front of Batman. He’d even over-done it on the green makeup so that it would hide the bags under his eyes.

He was idly playing basketball when he heard the tell-tale woosh of a cape off to the side of the court. Batman had arrived.

“Gordon said you wanted to talk with me,” Batman said, unmoving from the shadow he’d found.

Edward let the ball roll back over to him and picked it up. “I did, I do,” he answered. “I-...” he stopped, finding himself unable to say what he wanted -no, needed- to say.

“If you’re at a loss for words, it must be something big,” Batman stated.

“Something like that,” Edward muttered, playing with the ball again. He didn’t feel that he had the strength to throw it but he could still dribble it or just hold it.

“I was also told that after Gordon called me the first time and asked me to meet you here, you escaped with a desperation he’d never seen in you or anyone before,” Batman continued. “He said it was like your life was at stake. You’ve been behaving oddly well according to the guards at Arkham. I’m told you normally drive them crazy with mind games or escape your cell just to mess with them, but you haven’t at all during your last stay.”

“I’ve told a few riddles,” Edward shrugged. “One of the guards said his daughter’s been getting into them, I made up some for her.”

“Making up riddles for a kid is not the same as your usual brand of crazy.”

“I suppose not. Can we move this conversation over to the benches?”

His body felt like he was about to drop over, he was glad Batman followed him to the benches so he could sit down and get the pain to lessen.

“There’s no easy way to put this and not many people to ask how to, but…” Edward paused and sighed. “I’m quitting the whole crime thing.”

Batman seemed surprised by that.

“It was fun, telling riddles to lead you to my next crime, throwing obstacles in your path to slow you down but knowing you would still be right behind me, knowing that any person who was involved was safe because you wouldn’t let them be hurt, the priceless items I stole, and of course the attention of media, it was all fun.”

“But you’re quitting?”

“It’s been losing its charm, the pattern has become a rut. I can’t… I don’t want to fall into a rut like that.”

Batman was quiet for a second. “You’re in pain,” he observed. Even resting, the pain was catching up with him, he had as good a chance of not getting caught by Batman as he had of escaping the pain. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

“Yes,” Edward admitted. “And not just in my usual way. A good therapist can’t help with this, not that there are any of those in this city. Thankfully we have several dozen hospitals, I was able to find help in one of them but I’m not sure it’s working.”

Just rip off the bandaid and say it. Quick and painless. It doesn’t have to be drawn out.

“I… I have cancer,” Edward said, finally telling someone about it for the first time. “Stage three, it’s not looking all that promising.”

He didn’t even need to look at Batman to know that he moved closer, he felt his presence next to him on the bench in an instant.

“It’s hard to get treatment and be a super criminal, I suppose,” Batman muttered. “That’s why you decided to quit and wanted to see me, right?” he checked.

“Part of it, yes,” Edward answered. “Look, the doctors said it doesn’t look good, they told me to get my affairs in order. Easiest task I’ve ever done, I don’t have loved ones to call, I know the police are just waiting to seize everything I have and lock it all away in an evidence locker, no one would really care if I died… except for maybe you and the daughter of a guard at Arkham. If anything else, I figure you were the most fun to interact with so if I had to tell anyone, it might as well be you.”

“I had a friend growing up, he lost his mother to cancer, we drifted apart over the years but I vividly remember the struggle she went through before passing, I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone in the entire world, no matter who they are or what they’ve done.”

“I’m not a good person, I always figured I’d die from someone getting revenge, from pissing off another rogue or a hero who doesn’t have a no-kill policy, something that would be quick and deserved. But this… this is nothing like that. It’s slow, it allows for time to tie up loose ends, and while it’s slowly breaking down my body, it’s killing my mind. Even if I wanted to continue to be a criminal, I literally can’t. I tried to do a crossword while in chemo today and just couldn’t do it. Some rogues can do the spontaneous criminal work but that’s just not who I am…”

“As much as I want to see you give up being a criminal, I want it to be because you decide to try a different path in life, not like this,” Batman said.

“I know I always said I didn’t care about death, that if I died I’d finally solve the greatest riddle of all but…” Edward trailed off as he tried hard not to start crying. “I… I’m scared.”

“I know. I’ve faced death enough times myself to know the feeling. But you can relax because you’re not dying.”

“How can you be so confident?”

“Because if you die, who’s going to provide me with the challenge that you think I need? Who’s going to take your place? The Joker? Jokes and riddles are similar but not that similar.  You said yourself, you’re not a good person, but you could be. Remember how you were a private investigator for a while?”

“I have a near perfect memory, or at least I did before the cancer, of course I remember.”

“That just proves you could be a good person. You never killed anyone, scared them mostly but you said you knew I’d save them.”

“I’m really not sure what you’re trying to say anymore.”

“You’re not dying because I won’t let that happen,” Batman said. “I know some of the best doctors in the world and out of it, I know people who can literally do magic, you’re not going to die. After you beat cancer, which you will, we can talk about the whole quitting thing again.”

“You seem awfully confident,” Edward said with a slight hum. “Just in case you’re wrong, can I ask for a small favor? I promise to take it to my grave.”

“What is it?”

“I’ve had a hunch for years and I want to know if I’m right. Who are you under the mask?”

Batman was still for a minute, long enough Edward figured he was probably waiting for him to start talking about something else and move away from the identity thing. To his surprise, Batman simply pulled the mask away like it was the hood of a jacket.

“I was right,” Edward uttered in shock. “You’re Bruce Wayne.”

“You figured it out before, I figured the likelihood of you getting it right the second time was high enough I can just tell you. Besides, I know you’re not going to do anything with the information.”

“Because I’m dying.”

“No, because what good is a riddle that everyone knows the answer to?”

“I suppose that’s also a good point,” Edward hummed.

“Edward,” Bruce began. Without the cowl, he sounded completely different, like his voice and mannerisms were also part of his mask. “I know you think no one would care if you died but you’re wrong, there are people who care about you, I care about you, and I’m going to prove it to you.”

~-~-~

In the months that followed that, both men researched as much as they could to find any form of a cure, the cancer continued to get worse.

During that time, Edward had put together collections of his riddles into books and published them: ‘1,001 Riddles for Young Geniuses’ and ‘the Riddler’s best Riddles’. He signed a copy of the first one and sent it to the guard for his daughter, he didn’t see anyone’s reactions but he was told by Bruce that they were thrilled.

Bruce walked into the hospital room where Edward was currently reading a book while doing chemo, an IV tube hooked into his arm and slowly releasing the medication. In order to keep a low profile, Bruce had put on a ‘disguise’, mainly glasses and an outfit he wouldn’t normally wear in public.

“That’s your idea of a disguise?” Edward asked with a slight laugh.

“Don’t knock it, it’s actually a really good one, I learned it from a friend of mine,” Bruce said. “Clark used to confuse people all the time whenever he lost his glasses, you’d be surprised how big a difference they can make.”

“I highly doubt people are actually going to fall for-”

A nurse walked in to check on something and paused, looking straight at Bruce. “Hello, who might you be?” she asked.

“A friend,” Bruce answered. “Just wanted to come see how my friend’s doing. You’ll need a ride home after this, right?”

“Uh, yeah, actually,” Edward agreed. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Bruce waited until the nurse left and they were alone again. “I think I found a cure.”

“There’s no cure, I’ve been looking.”

“You’ve been looking at the records of scientists, I went beyond that,” Bruce corrected him. “Have you ever heard of the Lazarus Pit?”

[amplexadversary]

Additional thoughts on Live A Live

The medley of everyone's chapter themes during the end credits owns.

I like how the T. Rex sprite has similar chonky proportions to the budgie god. My reasons for liking this are many, and although I'm pretty sure the reason for the way Odo looks is so that they could fit him in the boss box, it's delightful nonetheless.

According to my friend who played the original, the cowboy's jerky used to be cigars. I actually kind of prefer them as a food item because snarfing three servings of dried meat in combat makes more sense to me than somehow speed-smoking cigars. I'd have liked to have had the molotovs though.

I doubt the old-lady's crochet was the same thing in the original either, but I think it's far funnier having the punk running around in that, clashing with his other clothes than whatever underwear it probably used to be. I'm imagining a (admittedly very nice before the washer got to it) shawl my mother once made that goes just around the shoulders and doesn't close in front, but in pink. I think he'd rock that over the jacket, with the handbag worn saddle-bag style. Very little says IDGAF better than clearly stolen clothing.

Speaking of the Mazinger chapter - throughout the whole beginning all the little kids do is ask me for food before I've had the chance to acquire any. But as soon as I did the taiyaki stand minigame and came back, the game auto-advanced the plot, and I never got to give them the snacks I had acquired. Not going to lie, I'm a little bit disappointed there isn't another opportunity to hand those off once you can get into the lab and no one is in any immediate danger.

I will concede to liking a stylistic choice the devs made in one respect: Having Hoersted's dialogue be in Iambic kicks ass. Having the NPCs in his chapter speak like that... not so much (it made the king sound like he was having a stroke at times).

Yes I put an H in font of Oersted's name to mock him. I was a little concerned I wasn't going to be rewarded with some Chrono Trigger cast call for completing the game. It turned out he earns the scorn for other reasons. No way in hell I'm playing his chapter again so it stays.

I'm amused by how much funnier the joke I was making while watching the balcony scene became thanks to where the plot went. I was being an ass and supplementing the dialogue with something along the lines of:

"Look, princess, I think we both know based on your reaction that you aren't having it, so I have some good news: I'm not either. We're headed to beard city over here so you should probably start thinking about who you want to cheat on me with now so I can cover for- ah shit of course she just got kidnapped."

Damn the little player character sprites are adorable. I want a lanyard or something with my favorites on it (mainly because if I got a little keychain I'd actually have to get three; one of the dirtbag ninja, one of the smartass psychic, and one of the Domon-lookalike. Also, they all have a few different poses that are really cute).

I swear I'm calling the ninja a dirtbag as an affectionate term; part of it is due to how much I liked the AOE and debuff on his dust veil move and so I had the poor guy doing his best chinchilla impression at the start of a lot of battles in his chapter. The other reason is that there are just a bunch of ways to be a dick in his chapter and I decided to roll with the interpretation.

Taeko's Furious Fist has got to be my favorite weapon in the game just because of the flavor text and how you get it. It's not a tangible object. The guy just rolls with the vibe. I was a little bit sad when I had to unequip it to make room for more powerful gear.

I still think the names I picked are better than the default ones with the exception of the one I couldn't come up with any decent alternative for (the kung-fu style) and for the MMA guy (a blatant reference). The rest I had to think about before committing, and I think the only one I'd change is I'd lengthen the psychic's name to Vulcan (from Vul) because it looks better next to the length of the others. Admittedly, the one I chose for the robot is also a blatant reference but honestly anything I put in there would have been an improvement over Cube.

[elfmoon3]

The Undead of Night Part 2 (Transformers Animated story)

Pairings: Prowl x Oc, Bumblebee x Oc, Oc x Oc

Summary: With a vampire on the lose in Detroit, the Autobots must help Meagan and Onyx find it and fight back for the sake of the safety of the civilians.

In the Mansion of Unknown, Meagan was back in her room, putting on a different outfit from her normal ninja outfit. Black gloves, a crop top with a ribcage print, a black jacket, pants, and platform boots. She looked at a drawer and opened it to take out a box that contained the vampire hunting equipment she used in the past and packed the items in her backpack. She looked at Stripes, who understood her feelings about this mission, and saluted her good luck. Meagan nodded and grabbed her bike helmet, and left the room with her equipment.

Later that night, the Autobots drove around the city with their agent partners looking for the evil vampire, as well as keeping an eye out in case the decepticons make an appearance. Shadow Mist can feel Meagan's tight grip on her handles. "Meagan, your hands are gripping on way too tight." She said, Meagan loosened her grip. "Sorry, I'm just really tensed about this." She said as she saw Onyx fly beside her. The full blood can sense the half blood's tension and start a psychic conversation with her to calm her down. Neither Shadow Mist, Prowl, or Grim knew what they're talking about, but whatever it is, it calmed Meagan down. They then get a call from Bumblebee, "Guys, I think I found it at the park." He said, Meagan's group heads to the park as quickly as possible to end this vampire's reign of terror.

Later at the park, Meagan contacted Optimus to send the other agents home for their own safety. She handed Grim, Scottie, and Anthony neck protectors, "These devices will protect your necks from being bitten." She said as she grabbed wooden stakes with the cross carved into each one. She hands each one to her fellow agents. "Bumblebee, if you see the vampire again, zap it." Meagan said as the yellow bot looked at her with confusion. "Uh, what would my stingers do to a vampire?" Bumblebee asked, "Electricity is able to stun vampires according to The Unknown Agency's research files on them." She said. Onyx understood that very well through experience. Meagan, Shadow Mist, Prowl, Grim, and Onyx went to the east side of the park while Bumblebee, PixelSpark, Scottie, and Anthony went west.

On the east side of the park, Meagan and Onyx started another psychic conversation as the group noticed their gestures and eye contact with each other. "So, how'd you two became friends?" Grim asked, "When I turned myself in to The Unknown Agency. And realizing that Meagan being a half blood vampire wasn't a bad idea. Actually, it was my old clan she took down." Onyx answered as he and Meagan remembered how they never got along with each other back then. They laughed as they were probably talking about it with their minds. Prowl and Shadow Mist stopped as they saw familiar yellow sparks of electricity in another clear area of the park. "Something tells me Bumblebee found the vampire again." Shadow Mist said as Meagan and Onyx noticed, too. Grim grabbed his wooden stake as the group raced to the other groups' location.

Bumblebee fought off the vampire by trying to zap it with his stingers. "Stand still, whatever the frag you are?!" Bumblebee yelled as the vampire was too fast. It was trying to get towards Anthony and Scottie, who are being protected by PixelSpark in case it does get closer to the two agents. As the vampire made another attempt to get closer to them, Meagan and Onyx tackled it out of the way. It spoke in an unknown language. "We got a feratu." Onyx answered as the vampire appeared as a goblin like creature with fangs. "I thought its scent was ancient when we smelled it on its victims." Meagan said as her eyes glowed an icy blue. The feratu lunged at them as the two vampire agents fought back. Meagan scratches it with her claws that her hands turn into. Onyx fought against it with his vampire strength. The two vampires were weakening the feratu. It got so exhausted that it gave Bumblebee a clear shot to zap it with his stingers. The feratu got stunned by the electricity as Meagan and Onyx pinned it to a tree. "GRIM, THE WOODEN STAKE!!" They yelled in unison. Grim rushed and stabbed the feratu with the wooden stake, though the heart. With a flash of light, the feratu screeched in pain as it desolved into the wind. Its former human soul flew into the sky, disappearing into the clouds. "Is it over?" Bumblebee asked as he and his fellow Autobots looked at the pile of ash on the ground. "The feratu has left the building." Onyx answered he said as he noticed that Meagan looked fatigued. "Meagan, you alright?" Prowl asked. She stared at him with her icy blue eyes, looking weak. "Onyx, please tell me you have pigs' blood with you?" She asked as Onyx took out a potion bottle of a red liquid from his backpack and hands it to her. Meagan took the cork out and drank the red liquid, presumably pigs' blood, completely empty. The others looked at her in shock. "I thought you said you don't drink blood?" Shadow Mist asked in confusion. "I don't drink humans' blood. Pigs' blood is the best substitute." She explained as she finished the bottle. PixelSpark and Scottie looked in disgust as what Meagan did was gross. Bumblebee wondered how Sentinel Prime would react to this and laughed. Shadow Mist and Prowl just observed while Anthony was used to her doing that. They all got a call from Optimus to check in on them. Prowl reported that it's all over and that they're about to head back to the Hideout.

Back at the Hideout, the others listened to Bumblebee as he talked about how they slain the feratu vampire. He even told them that Meagan drank a bottle of pigs' blood after because she was weak from the ordeal. "But, don't vampires normally drink blood?" Ash asked him, "I do not drink human blood." Meagan said as she was reporting to Director Mavis about the hunt. Onyx looks at her and notices that Grim is staring at her with fascination. He walked towards the icy superhuman. "I know that look." He said as Grim looked at him. "What look?" He asked as Onyx gave him a smug look. "You know what I'm talking about. " The vampire said with his arms crossed, still smirking. Grim blushed a dark blue. "You like her, don't you?" Onyx asked. "Maybe, but I don't know what to say to her." Grim said as he sighed. "You'll know what to say when you are ready to speak out your feelings." Onyx said as he went back to the others. Grim sighed again. Maybe one day he'll talk about his heart towards Meagan. Knowing that she can rest easily without sensing evil vampires in her dreams anymore, Meagan can focus on her main mission and find the reason for the weirdness in Detroit.

The End!