#but it makes me want to kill something either way

[seewetter]

My first thought at hearing horror described as "a predatory force seeking out the exposed and vulnerable elements of society" made me think of a movie about a monster tormenting people who refuse to be vulnerable and at the end the "final girl" has vulnerability but must spend a highly uncomfortable eternity with the monster.

But then I realized that while that would make a good horror movie, it would just be the flip side of the coin of horror movie avoidance. The audience then simply gets "action movie"-like gratification where the victims have to open up and be vulnerable and laughs in schadenfreude when they fail at this task. It could be good horror, but it wouldn't challenge its target audience, who don't relate to the victims in the film. The audience would side with the monster, and watching the predation with a certain level of emotional detachment. "Ahaha, that frat bro couldn't show vulnerability, go get him". This could be a fun movie, but it's not a template for the appeal of horror. And people who don't want to be vulnerable in that particular way can become more entrenched in their mindset, because the film isn't just victimizing (people like) them, it mocks its victims, it addresses the audience as people superior to those victims.

If, say, a slasher movie features a bunch of frat bros who never open up to each other, this doesn't reflect real vulnerabilities of frat bros, who IRL do tell each other pretty harrowing stories and show emotional vulnerability in the right social setting -- the reason shitty men bully emotional or "weak" men in group settings is cishet patriarchal pecking order / violence. These guys do all these weak and emotional things all the time, just under the "right" pretense. So a horror film where frat bros are killed for being repressed kind of misses its mark as social criticism.

But even if the film killed frat bros or karens or other groups of privileged people who either repress something or hide a violent underbelly of their group, a challenging horror film walks a fine line.

Any horror film that simply *gives them what they deserve*, say a slasher film where frat bros die one-by-one as the monster seeks out guys who aren't, as prev put it "reduced to tears", is wish-fulfillment for an audience critical of frat bro culture. Like I'd get a kick out of it, I think such stories should be told and I'll watch at least a few of them, but I know deep down that I'm watching something that doesn't actually affect me. Don't misunderstand me: I don't think entertainment needs to be pure. I don't think it needs to teach valuable lessons. But since people above are discussing the kind of infantile mindset where someone basically doesn't like about horror the very thing that makes it horror (the helplessness) I can't but mention that to really get audiences to experience helplessness, you need *them* to actually feel helpless. So watching some Karen who totally deserves to get chopped to bits feel helpless ...only works if *you're* a Karen like that yourself -- and even then might not work if you rightfully(?) suspect this entertainment was made by other people to make fun of you or feel superior to you.

Schadenfreude (enjoying the damage others face) is absolutely a viable ingredient for entertainment: but absurdly, it's an ingredient for a feelgood movie. A morality play that preaches to the choir.

This is one reason why trans women and people with physical disfigurements have been so attentive to transmisogyny and ableism in horror. Because in both cases, the mainstream has been making feelgood movies where the monster is Other and people can feel superior to that form of otherness. They can pat themselves on the back for thinking that disfigurement makes someone monstrous or uncomfortable or undesireable or disgusting. A disfigured monster's body would not be half as ableist if it wasn't part of a sort of morality tale feelgood movie, where bad people get what they deserve and good people go rewarded. Giving the disfigured monster more sympathy effectively doesn't just muddle the ableism, but also muddles the predation and violence of the monster. Which won't really make sense to the audiences who wanted a morality play to feel better about themselves but also--- morality plays are a part of horror, but they are kind of like decaf coffee. It's horror without the helplessness of horror.

Even a film with an amoral ending, like Cabin in the Woods, is basically just defanged horror, it's an action comedy with horror tropes and weird sci-fi and fantasy elements. The amoral ending (just letting the world get destroyed) is cool and entertaining, but this is definitely a feelgood film.

If someone wants to make a film about unavoidable pain and suffering, then they can't shy away from actually inflicting that fictional pain and suffering on their fictional characters. And if that movie is meant to avoid the thing where wealthy suburbanites are victims of the murder doll or demon home invasion or whatever, if you want to show the vulnerability of homeless people for example...well then you can't shy away from portraying the futility of their attempts to get help.

Feelgood films (both the Action Horror movie and the Schadenfreude Morality Play) have their place in the world of storytelling and can say interesting things. But the impulse to always want "soft" horror is maybe partly due to how effective it can be, as a genre, to actually make people live through helplessness and unavoidable pain. I don't think the last type is more legitimate, but I do think, especially when it deals with marginalized pain or deals with privileged pain in a way that truly hits its mark, people will tend to not want to watch it.

It's not uniquely American for people to not want to get to close to this sort of pain. It seems like the product of neoliberalism: even the most victimized people in the poorest countries are told that what truly matters is their authenticity, their integrity. Labour is increasingly expendable, people can easily lose everything... and so they are being comforted with the idea that at least they *are themselves* (hence why I'm always trying to define being trans not as "who I am, who I truly am inside" and more in terms of "my freedom of association and self-definition is being taken from me, using biology as an excuse". When people want to *be themselves*, experiencing a story where they have to be vulnerable can be incredibly difficult.

I'm still not sure why rich people applauded "Parasite" -- did the film fail on some level, or did they shield themselves from the film's message -- and I can't say what the magic ingredients are to make a story impact its target audience. Parasite, though, is about poor people told from their perspective -- and rich folks are the Other. So maybe that explains its muted effect: Like that social media post about bullies at school cheering on Dumbo the elephant beating up his bullies. This is the story of Dumbo, audiences cheer Dumbo on because they like him. They aren't vulnerable to the critique of Dumbo or Parasite, because the hero isn't a bully like them. And bullies are fundamentally unsympathetic as characters. Audiences tend to want them to die.

I think a really psychologically effective horror film is one where the protagonists are people the audience relates to, who do bad things that the audience somewhat dislikes but can find understanding for and where the antagonist isn't a bringer of morality, but simply a force of destruction. Where the core defining aspect of the monster isn't how clearly it reflects some real-world problem, but how relentlessly it pursues its tastes or agenda. The monster(s) acts like a real-life problem in its horrific effects, but it isn't allegorical. Or at least not allegorical for an issue near and dear to the audience's heart. But I'm not sure how much horror can actually cause audience introspection. I don't think we can fully expect entertainment to hit the mark on that. People watch entertainment for the fun of it -- if someone wants entertainment to be transformative, they need to take notes from entertainment that appears to have a genuinely transformative effect (like "A Short Film About Killing" which supposedly ended the death penalty in Poland or "Jaws" which supposedly caused a temporary shark murder spree).

But regardless I think it makes sense to realize that horror films that make the audience feel smart for avoiding bad things and horror films that harrow the audience with inescapable horror are pandering to different desires and are, in a sense, different genres. If you know that, you have a better grasp on how to design your own stories or how to recommend stories you come in contact with.

people are so mean about horror movie victims like. sorry but if i had gone to a cabin in the woods with my friends as a teenager you couldn't have stopped us from reading aloud from the evil tome. how were they supposed to know the ancient curse was real they're like 17

[justwonder113]

Drunk Chan confessing to you

Warnings: Cursing as always. Chan's Pov. Reader is gender neutral. Chan is whipped! Chan thinks reader is dating someone. Childhood friends to lovers. Misunderstanding with a happy ending. Chan is drunk but not that much, more like tipsy. word count-3.4k A/N- Sorry this took me ages to write but I hope you'll enjoy reading. Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated.

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Chan felt like he was about to lose his mind and weirdly enough it wasn’t because one of the boys did something to either piss him of or to just to be a general menace. No his distress was caused by a whole another thing or better say someone. How in the world was it possible for someone look this gorgeous, so ethereal and breathtaking on a regular fucking Friday?  

He knew he was whipped for you. He made peace with that simple yet not so simple fact years ago. He also knew that he found you absolutely beautiful. Whenever he tried to think of something beautiful your image always popped up before anything else. It was simple as that for him, like the fact that the sky was blue, the grass was green and you were definition of a word bewitching for him. 

Maybe it was a little bit of alcohol he had drunk earlier affecting him, maybe he just fell for you even harder right now (if it was even possible). But right now, as he watched you talk with the boys about god knows about what, he thought that you were the definition of the word beauty. He didn’t know if he wanted to stare at you for as long as possible and bask in your beauty and presence of if he should go to Hyunjin and ask him to teach him paint so that he could capture just how beautiful you looked. But knowing himself, even if it was possible to capture all of it on paper... Chan liked to think of himself as a selfless person, or at least he tried to be, but he was an honest man. If it was possible to capture how captivating you truly were, he would just keep it to himself, he would become the most selfish man in the world. And maybe he was. All he could think about right now was that your attention wasn’t on him, that you paid your mind to someone other than him. It didn’t matter that that “someone” was his friends, the people he considered his family. He wanted all your attention on him, he wanted you to look only at him. God he was losing his mind. When did he become so needy and desperate for your attention? He felt pathetic, how would you even look at him when he acted this way? He reminded himself something he did for years now. That you deserved way better than him, you deserved someone who would give you the world, someone who would cherish you the way you deserved. Even though he would do absolutely anything for you, even though he would make impossible possible for you, even though he would let the world burn for you, you deserved someone who would do even more for you and more importantly always be there for you. He wasn’t worthy of you not with the relationship he had with his work. God, it killed him whenever he had to cancel plans with you and couldn’t be there for you because he had to work. As much as he loved what he did for a living, the same love turned into hate because it kept him away from you. There were even times when he considered to just fuck it and quit, but what would he even do in life? There was literally nothing else he could see himself as. Without a job without a passion what worth did he have? What could he do?  

God, he felt pathetic. He was thinking about all this as he stood a chance with you in the first place. You always had looked at him and saw him as a friend. Maybe there was a moment there and there where it seemed that there could be something more. But your relationship although the years had been strictly platonic. He had given up on hoping for something more years ago. 

He had come with peace with the fact that he couldn’t be something more for you. Maybe it was for the good. You could live your life to the fullest. He was fine loving you from afar. 

God all he could think about was how cute you looked. Your hair was still messy, because you rushed here when you noticed that all of them were quite drunk when you called to check on them, and you were wearing that way too big hello kitty hoodie with the matching black pants Chan got you as a joke that you kept wearing because it was really comfortable. Your whole look today screamed that you only cared about being comfortable and that you were grumpy that you had to get up in the middle of the night to get your silly friends. Still in Chan’s eyes you looked like you hung the stars yourself. 

 God he was obsessed with you. There was no better way to describe the feeling really. Even now the moment your gaze shifted to him and you gave him that sweet smile... He felt like he couldn’t breathe. His body felt warm all over yet he felt his lungs were frozen in place. 

“How are you feeling Channie?” You asked him with that sweet voice of yours. In seconds his mind was swarmed with all the possible lyrics he could use to write yet another song dedicated Soley for you that he kept hidden in his laptop.  Well, hidden was a nice word. All of the boys knew of that file and Chan was more than few times relentlessly teased for his crush on you. They kept pestering that he should just confess, or at least show you all the songs he had written for you and let them do the job for him, but he just couldn’t. 

“Better now that you’re here.” He slipped before he could even stop himself. What if he made you feel uncomfortable? You two flirted from time to time, but lately he had this rising suspicion that you were seeing someone and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. All he knew was that he would rather die than make you uncomfortable with his silly little crush. 

Thankfully for him and his heart you chuckled and immediately his whole heart was filled with joy. “Well, I’m glad. I’m here to bring you home, because little birdie here told me that you had been asking for me all night.” You mused all sweetly. Chan’s head immediately snapped towards Minho, who grinned at him all triumphant. He would have to have a word with him later. 

“God I will kick his ass later. You didn’t have to come. I had no idea he told you to get here. You must have been tired.” Chan only stopped rambling when he felt you place your hand on his shoulder. You looked at him with eyes shining brighter than all the stars combined. It was his words yes and he would stand by it. 

“Calm down Channie.”  Your voice was calm, soothing. If there was one thing he had to choose to listen to till the end of his life he would, without a thought, choose your voice. Your kind, beautiful, soothing voice. He loved whenever you showered him with affection and complemented him. Hell, love wasn’t strong enough of a word to describe how he felt, he was on the cloud nine whenever you said even something sweet to him. But the thing about your voice and presence to him was that, even if you weren’t complimenting him or just being sweet. Even if you were just telling him about how your day went, he felt this serenity, this calmness. Whenever he was with you his mind always just shut down. It went silent. And he could actually enjoy living in a moment and enjoy his life to the fullest. Would there even be time when he would be able to convey in words just what you meant to him? Maybe then he would actually stop and be proud of himself as a lyricist. 

“Do you want me to be here?” Your teasing tone quickly bought him back to reality. 

“What kind of question is that? Of course I do!” Chan was quick to protest which made you chuckle. God there it was, that beautiful sound. Suddenly everything felt all right. 

“Whipped!” He heard Minho cough into his fist. He would really have to kick his ass later. 

Chan was about to ask you about how you were, how your day went, mundane stuff like that when he heard your phone ring.  “Sorry Channie one second.” You quickly checked your phone. The slight furrow of your brows was quickly replaced by a gentle smile. You quickly raised your finger to give you time and went a few steps away to talk on your phone. He couldn’t really decipher what you were saying to that person but your voice... You sounded do genuinely happy talking to that person.  

The ringing in his ears raised in volume when he caught you call that person “babe”. Did he fully lose you? Did you really start seeing someone? Was the distance between you so big that you didn’t even tell him you were seeing someone? Did he mess up so bad that you didn’t even feel comfortable confiding in him? 

Too caught up with the turmoil in his head he didn’t even notice for a moment a figure approach you. When he brought his gaze on you, you were talking with some man. Sweet smile adorning your face, your eyes shining brightly. Was it that someone? You weren’t talking on the phone anymore. The way you were talking to him you clearly knew him.  It also didn’t help him at all that the man you were talking to was objectively really handsome. There was no way he could compete with a person like him. God, he felt like a joke. There wouldn’t even be a competition. He should be able to face reality now. He had spent years helplessly yearning for you. He should know by now that he didn’t stand a chance with you. God, he felt like crying. 

The rest of the night was a blur. He didn’t even remember how he got into your car. Or the road you took. The last thing he remembered was how he saw you hug that man goodbye. Good thing that man wasn’t accompanying you that day and he returned to his friend group shortly after. He wasn’t sure he was ready to be introduced to your boyfriend. Not that he would ever be. 

It was funny how one moment you could be having time of your life and the next second it could be ruined by one single thing. Chan barely felt like talking, let alone smile or anything of that sort. And as it turned out his mood was contagious. The whole ride was quiet. Chan couldn’t even remember the time where all of them were in the same space and it was actually quiet. 

However, why you were silent and didn’t talk at all was a mystery to him. Did that man upset you? If that was the case, he would gladly murder someone. No one got to mess with you, not on his watch. 

“Channie?” Your voice brought him back to reality. He must have zoned out again. That two extra shots he drank as you talked with that man really messed with his head. As if he wasn’t already tipsy enough. “Are you okay?” You sounded worried. Was it this apparent he was sad? What was he even supposed to say? 

“I’m just tired.” He managed to mumble out after a second or two. 

“What do you think about sleeping over at my house?  We haven’t hung out in a while. I can not be deprived of my best friend for too long you know that.” You whined all cutely making his heart flutter uncontrollably. But he quickly got reminded of the fact that you were not his. And the small smile that wanted to break through got quickly replaced by a deeper frown. 

“I don’t think we should.” It brought him physical pain to utter these words to you. 

Now it was your time to frown. “Why is that?” God, you sounded so sad. It killed something inside him knowing he was the one causing you pain. You quickly backed down. “I mean if you don’t feel like it it’s totally fine. We’re almost at your house too. We’ll be there in few minutes.” You laughed awkwardly. 

God he hated this. Since when did things get weird between you? When did things change? Would things get even weirder and would the distance between you two grow as your relationship with your new boyfriend progressed? 

“Wouldn’t your boyfriend mind?” He hated how he couldn’t ask one question without mumbling like a sad little kid. 

Without even saying a word you quickly pulled over and turned on hazard lights. 

“Channie what the actual fuck?” You tried to sound calm but your voice betrayed you. 

“What? What did I do wrong?” This was weird, he was the one (okay unfairly, yes, but) upset with you, how were you the one scolding him? What did he even do? He didn’t remember upsetting you. Did he forget something? Did he do something and then forget? 

“What did you do wrong? Dude what is up with that question?” You sounded so appalled like he asked the most ridiculous question ever. “What boyfriend?” 

“You broke up?” When did you even manage to do that? Weren’t you all lovey-dovey with someone minutes ago? Did you break up with him via text? No, you wouldn’t do that right? Also why would you break up with him? The dude seemed perfect. 

“There was no one to begin with?” You stared him for a second, you seemed unsure of something. “Is this why you were sulky all evening? You think I’m dating someone?” 

Did he misread the whole situation? He didn’t right? He didn’t just make an absolute fool out of himself right? 

God he did. He wanted to dig a hole to crawl into and never get out. He really felt like crying now. 

“I’m not dating anyone.” You sighed out after few seconds of numbing silence. “God Channie what even made you think that?” 

Chan hadn’t even noticed he started fidgeting with his fingers. He only stopped when you placed your hand on top of his, only then he was able to feel the sting or the small self inflicted  wound. 

Chan took a deep breath. Here went nothing. “You had been smiling at your phone and texting a lot too. You’re always busy too. And when you were on your phone you called someone babe. And the man at the bar too!” Really, how could he not think you were dating someone. 

“I’ve been texting my friends that’s all. We’re planning a birthday party and I guess I’ve been running around a lot for it. Now listen carefully before I smack your beautiful idiot head! I call my friend babe, you have seen me do it millions of times, you even joked about how you could get jealous about it!” You quickly ranted to him, elevating Chan’s worries bit by bit, word by word. 

“What about the Guy at the bar?” Chan didn’t back down. He had to know. He had to know the truth. 

“Why does it matter if I have a boyfriend?” You looked at him with determined eyes. 

“What kind of question is that?”  

“The kind I want answer to. What does it change if I have a boyfriend?” 

Chan felt his face get warmer, how was he supposed to answer that question? 

“Come on, you know it changes everything!” No matter how hard he tried to hold it in, the desperation in his voice clearly showed. 

“What Chan? What does it change?” You raised your voice. Why were you prying like that? 

He couldn’t take it anymore. 

“For fuck’s sake how will it not Change everything? How can everything stay the same when I have been in love with since I remember? How can I just watch you go to another man just like this? You’re everything I have ever wanted and loved. You’re my everything! How can you not see that? Every song I have written is about you, every thought I have is about you, my heart simply beats just for you! How will it not change anything? It will kill me to see you with another man. I would do anything in this world for you but not let you go. I could never let you go!” 

God, he said it. He really said it. He finally admitted just what he felt for you. Well yelled would be more accurate word to describe it. But yeah... He finally admitted his feelings. It was like weight got lifted off his chest but as the seconds passed in absolute deafening silence, maybe it was better to keep it in. 

He couldn’t even look you in the eyes. He was such an idiot. He should have kept it to himself. Why didn’t you say anything? Were you that disgusted? Would you stop being friends with him now? Did he just lose you? 

He couldn’t even fully grasp what happened. One second he heard a clink of a seatbelt opening and next second your lips were on him. The lips he had dreamed of tasting for years were now kissing him. Did he just die and wake up in heaven? 

Your lips were soft as silk and so warm and you kissed him so tenderly almost hesitantly. As if a dam broke inside of him, he quickly opened his seatbelt and brought himself closer to you. There was no way he could hold himself back now that he got to know how you taste. Biting down on your lip gently he could feel your lips part. He immediately deepened the kiss. God he loved it, how you tasted, how you clung onto him, how soft and pillowy your lips were. His whole mind was consumed by you, he was overwhelmed in the best way, all he could feel was your lips caressing each other, your warmth surrounding him, your cold fingers that held his face gently, your sweet scent that was making him go numb. God he could feel how he was slowly getting more and more addicted to you. 

When you leaned back for air he couldn’t help but as he tried to chase your lips but you stopped him giggling. God did you have any idea what you did to him? He was at your feet at your mercy, did you even realize that? 

“Since I have to spell everything out for you today you beautiful dummy, I have been in love with you for years! I just didn’t think you felt the same way. Okay, there were times I did, but like you always backed down! And today seeing how sulky you got over me talking with a coworker who was with his boyfriend by the way, I thought that maybe this was the day I could finally get to the truth. Thankfully You return my feelings because if you didn’t I don’t think I would be able to get over you.” Chan physically couldn’t  let you finish talking a he leaned in and captured your lips in another searing kiss. As much he loved your voice and listening to you talk he had just realized that he loved kissing you more. Also to think that you thought that there was a possibility that he didn’t love you... He just had to stop you. 

“Of course I love you. God I adore you! You’re definition of perfection, live representation of love and beauty for me. I don’t think there’s even a universe where I don’t love you!” 

Hearing you giggle made his heart leap in joy. “God you’re such a sap Channie.” Gently bringing him closer to you by his shoulders you gently pecked him. Chan couldn’t help but mirror your grin as he wrapped his arms around you, basking in your presence, enjoying living this moment with you. 

“You’re one to talk.” He couldn’t help but tease back before leaning in to quickly peck your nose which made your smile widen. 

“We’re a perfect match then.” You mused, clearly satisfied. 

“Yeah, we really are.” Chan smiled to himself and hugged you closer feeling finally at peace. Finally feeling whole. 

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Taglist: @velvetmoonlght @notastraykid @annie-boleyn

[sultrysparkles]

PATCH UP DUTY! ༉‧₊˚.

synopsis: your shinobi boyfriend got hurt on a mission, and luckily for them their trusty girlfriend is here to help! (mentions of wounds and blood, SFW) FT. Gaara, Naruto, Sasuke, and Shikamaru

a/n: finally im back!! missed writing more than I expected lol also sorry naruto fans I didn't know what to do with him really!! (⁠ ⁠≧⁠Д⁠≦⁠)

☆ SILENCE. (FT. GAARA)☆

"You don't have to do this, (Y/N)." Gaara murmurs, resting his arm on the table. You ignore his comment, unraveling a roll of gauze. Sitting there patiently, he watches as you carefully formulate your supplies with precision.

Grabbing a chair next to him, you begin to treat his wound. A large slash down his forearm, yet shallow enough to not cause any substantial issues. But the bleeding alone was enough to make you pout.

Meticulously dabbing a cloth over his wound, not a single word escapes from either one of you. Steady breathing fills the empty silence, a comforting phenomenon that always came along with Gaara. He wasnt the type to speak unless he had to, even then his sentences remained short and meaningful.

Picking up a swab coated in sterile saline, then patting it along the gash, You glance up to check Gaara for any signs of discomfort, an instinct that came along with treating injuries.

Suddenly, your rhythmic movements halt abruptly.

Your eyes meet.

For a moment neither of you move. His cold teal eyes grasp yours, indecipherable but fierce. Almost like he was studying you, memorizing the way your eyebrows furrowed with concentration, the way your eyes squint slightly as you focus. There's no falter nor embarrassed look away—only fixed tranquility.

He still doesn't look away.

Gaara isn't the type of person to shy away when he's caught staring, especially if it's something he's infatuated by. Instead his gaze intensifies, as if he's trying to understand something—himself. Why does he feel this odd warmth in his chest every time he's around your vicinity? Why does his heart slow but his breathing quicken as soon as he feels your delicate touch? It's all so new to him.

You catch a glimpse of something that crosses his face. Although hard to catch, you still caught it. A rare tenderness he rarely allowed himself to show.

"...Does it hurt?" You ask gently.

Immediately, his lips part, like he wants to say something. But instead, he simply shakes his head "No. It's fine."

However, his eyes still haven't let you go. At least not yet. Not until you look away first, flustered by his silent potency. And even then, he's still watching, his thoughts unsolvable, his heart struggling to make sense of feelings he's never felt before.

☆ BIG BABY! (FT. NARUTO) ☆

"Ow, ow, OW— (Y/N), you're killing me!" Naruto whines throwing his head back like he's just been stabbed in the chest.

You glare at him, pressing the antiseptic soaked rag against the scrape on his cheek. "It's just a tiny scratch, you big baby."

"A tiny scratch?... Do you see the SIZE of this thing? I was fighting for my life out there!" He puffs, pointing at the scrape. You sigh loudly, muttering about how ridiculous he is, Naruto crossing his arms childishly at the comment.

Tossing the rag aside, you grab a glass bottle filled with ointment. "You literally get punched through walls, but this is where you draw the line?" You retort, leaning in closer to spread the ointment more precisely

But unknowingly, you closed in the last bit of space between you two, the lack of air making Naruto's brain go fuzzy. Actually, he was completely frozen. Too stunned to speak. His usual goofy demeanour falters for just a moment, his breath pausing as heat rises to his face. He's blinking rapidly, unsure of where to look. He's lost in the way your fingers gently grasp his jaw, tilting his head slightly backwards. And he's fixated on the pacing of your breathing too, feeling the warm air against his cheek.

Fuck. You were way too close. He swallows hard, "Uh..." He scrambles to find his words, for the first time, the Ultimate Knucklehead Ninja is speechless.

You raise an eyebrow, feigning innocence as if the close proximity wasn't a part of your plan. "What? You were just talking a mile a minute, and now you're quiet?" You spit, lips curled slightly as you spread the thick medication across his cheek.

Naruto quickly averts his gaze, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "N-Nothing... Just... uh... you must be really focused, huh?" He lets out a nervous chuckle, trying to slow down the sudden pounding in his chest.

Rolling your eyes, you twist the cap back onto the bottle. Adjusting himself on the couch, Naruto tries to retrieve his cool, as if his face weren't a bright tomato red. You continue patching Naruto up, still bickering back and forth with him. Only this time, he seemed to be a bit more jittery and shaky with his responses.

But later, when you're finished and packing away your supplies, you swear you hear him mumble something under his breath. Something that makes you smile not matter how much you stifle it back.

"Man... I think I just feel for you even harder..."

☆ STUBBORNESS (FT. SASUKE) ☆

"I'm fine."

You exhale sharply, ignoring Sasuke's regular resistance. Placing a cloth over the gash and then applying mild pressure, you attempt to stop the bleeding from his neck. "You're bleeding, Sasuke."

He doesn't flinch, nor does he wince. Instead he's just sitting there, stuff but compliant. His arms are crossed, like this whole situation was just some minor inconvenience. Of course. It wasn't unusual for Sasuke to act so detached, always pretending to be unaffected yet his body always said the opposite.

You shake your head, "Just let me help, okay?"

Sasuke sighs through his nose, but doesn't dispute with you any further. That was the most compliance you'll ever get out of him.

The wound on his neck wasn't deep, simply messy. Dried blood strips near the opening, and despite his bluffed collectiveness, you could tell he's exhausted. It wasn't uncommon to see Sasuke injured, oftentimes training tirelessly, or engaging with enemies he underestimated way too much. But this time, you could tell he wasn't just worn out physically.

Too lost in your thoughts, you accidentally prod the cloth a bit too harshly, making him tense up for a moment. Not a flinch, but you swore you heard his breath quietly hitch.

"Sorry," you murmur.

Sasuke though, doesn't say anything. But as you continue, grabbing other materials, you treat his wounds with extra care. Fingers grazing his skin with gentleless, you begin to notice something. His breathing slows. His once taut shoulders are now relaxed under your touch.

He isn't just tolerating this, but he's allowing it.

There's something strangely intimate about this silence. Perhaps it's the way, you're the only one he lets close like this.

Then you feel it. His gaze locked on you.

Holding the gauze in your hand, you pause.

"Sasuke?"

But still, no answer.

You peek up at him, expecting his eyes to rush away like they always do, but he doesn't. His distant black eyes are now fixated on you, unreadable, steady, yet softer than usual. They lacked their usual sharpness, but instead grew of quiet observation.

The sight sends your heart into your throat.

"...What?" You ask, voice barely above a whisper.

He blinks, laggard and calculated. His lips part ever so slightly, like he's about to speak but he doesn't. Instead, after a moment, he exhales and mutters, "Nothing."

Taking in his answer, you continue on with patching him up. But his gaze lingers, still focused on you. Even after you finish patching him up. Because as he stands to leave, his lips part open again, like there's something on his chest that's dying to come out.

And then, he turns away, his voice—low and nearly inaudible.

"...You don't have to worry about me so much."

☆ GENTLE (FT. SHIKAMARU) ☆

"This is such a drag..."

Shikamaru groans, resting his head against the wall as you kneel beside him, tending to the slash across his chest. He's always complaining and always acting like everything takes up so much of his precious energy. But he hasn't moved an inch since you've started.

"You say that like I'm the one who got you hurt," you mutter, blotting a rag over his wound.

A long and slow breathe escapes his lungs, "Tch. Guess that's fair."

His voice is low and sluggish, like sitting here was simply exhausting. Despite having a fresh injury, he seems to be half asleep. Typical. You should've expected him to act like this was more tiring than the actual fight.

"Hold still," you say, pressing a bandage against his skin tightly.

Shikamaru doesn't even flinch. Doesn't really react at all, really—except for the way his eyes flicker downwards watching the way your fingers dance over his chest, you brows knitting together in silent concentration.

You don't notice at first, only until the silence begins to grow way too suspicious.

You glance up, only for him to be looking back at you.

You waver, gripping the roll of bandage.

"What?"

But, he only blinks at you, hushed but calculated, unbothered at the fact you just caught him staring. In his eyes, there's no sign of embarrassment nor instant divergence. Just quiet deliberate eyes, like he's studying a foreign topic.

"You're being weird," you comment, focusing your attention to bandaging him up.

Shikamaru's lips twitch into a lazy smirk. "Nah. Just thinking."

"Thinking about what?"

He pauses, and so do you. His eyes dart towards something—not away but lower, to where your hands are still resting on his chest, rising up and down as he breathes.

"You're pretty gentle," he murmurs.

Your breath catches to the back of your throat. But before you can respond, he leans his head back again, shutting his eyes like he's done speaking.

Shaking off the unexpected heat in your cheeks, you huff "You say that like you expected me to be rough."

"Didn't say that," He mutters, eyes still shut.

"Then?"

He exhales a small tired sigh. And then without opening his eyes:

"I think I could get used to this"

Your hands still for half a second, but he doesn't say anything else. Instead he lets the silence between you two settle, as if it were meant to be there.

And when you finally pull back, he doesn't move right away.

Like he's in no rush to leave your touch.

[doppel-doodles]

A normal post a about Kevin Barnes from Poppy Playtime.

I genuinely feel so bad for Kevin…

Like that was a kid who clearly had a lot of issues from the start, instead of getting the help he needed all that happened was him being marked off as a „problem child“.

And then he was turned into a toy:/

Read more of my full thoughts and a sorta character analysis/ramblings below cut!

Like honestly no wonder he is seething if he wasn’t troubled before he definitely is now-

Obviously he has no trust in anyone, almost every adult he ever knew screwed him over in some way, hell even the kids he shares a body with would go against what he would do.

(Great example: When Doey chases us in his monster form, it's the arms of Matthew and Jack that are trying to keep his mouth from biting us, Kevin's are trying to grab for us.)

He was hurt over and over again, clearly he wasn’t aggressive just because he wanted to be but because this was his only way of making sure he wouldn’t get hurt.

It was how he had a semblance of control, a sense of protection.

But of course the irony is: That coping mechanism brought him more pain, it was what got him killed.

Sure, maybe he could've just "calmed down", but why would he? He was hurt again, he lost everything AGAIN.

All because he listened to their judgement over his own. Kevin could've killed the player and Poppy on sight, clearly his emotions easily overpowered the other two, but he didn't.

Instead he agreed to trust them as well.

He was still willing to do that, surely if he were just a mindless monster he wouldn't be.

And you know what? I believe he blames himself just as much if not more for what happened than he blames us and Poppy and projects it tenfold.

Because maybe, JUST MAYBE-

If he didn't allow himself to trust again, then everyone would still be alive.

But he did...now see what that got him?

In his mind he's proven right.

So what's an emotionally unstable child to do? After being hurt AGAIN?

That's right.

He lashes out at the first thing he sees that had something to do with his pain:

Us.

Is he in the right? Hell nah- bro we didn't mean for that to happen! But do you seriously think this kid is thinking rationally right now??? NO! He is seeing red right now, he is in fight mode! All emotions and must I reiterate that the only way he knows how to express them is through anger and violence?

There is NO reasoning with wrath try as you might! And that hurts because yeah maybe you could've dealt with that if he was still a gradeschooler but he isn't! He is 900 pounds of living dough with a thirst for blood!

It's either our life or his now. And we already know what the outcome of that is.

Honestly I think it's better that we only hear Matthew and Jack apologise for what happened, I do not think Kevin would even if he did feel bad for what he had done.

Because why would someone who has been scorned so many times be vulnerable all of the sudden? When his main character trait is biting at those who bark at him?Why would all that rage suddenly disappear? If anything the stress of dying only causes him to lash out more.

You don't need an apology from him to feel bad for him.

He is hurting anyone with two eyes can see that and for what it's worth, I do believe deep down he knew what he was doing was wrong but it was too late for him to see any other alternatives and even if he didn't and thought he was right for doing what he did it doesn't take away from the fact that he was fucked over by life.

Kevin is not the worst part of Doey, he is just a part of him.

And that part is not just a violent hunk of playdough.

It’s a scared, confused little boy that cared just as much about every toy in safe haven as his other two components did.

Because if he didn’t why would he get so angry about their death?

Anyway thanks for coming to my ted talk-

Also feel free to agree or disagree with my take, those are just my thoughts so let me hear yours, I like discussions:}

[railingsofsorrow]

I was thinking about jj being at home while reader is out partying. and then she calls him, really really drunk so he's concerned and goes pick her up.

love your writing! ❤️

midnight swim

[jj maybank x reader]

summary: the one where you drink too much and decide to have a midnight swim but your boyfriend stops you.

pairing: jj maybank x reader

w.c: 1.1K

warnings/content: alcohol consumption; language; stupid drunk decisions; argument with parents (mentioned); suggestive content (you blink you miss it).

[requested]

A/N: HELLOO this was fun to write hope you like it :)

navi

masterpost

outer banks masterlist

request me something

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Wanna go home.” You mumbled into the phone, walking outside of the loud house to have a moment of peace. Maybe your social battery is over. You didn't know what exactly cut your mood off from the party but you wanted to put on your pajamas and lay in your boyfriends' chest for the whole (rest) of the night.

“Mhm.”

“Dude, did you just kill me?!”

Pope's laughs echoed through the line, followed by JJ's trying to stifle a chuckle but he was very unsuccessful, earning a punch on his arm provided by his best friend.

“Baby? Sorry. The guys were being loud and— You still there?”

You hummed, eyes slightly unfocused staring at the enormous pool of whoever Kook's house you were. You were barely remembering your own name to be honest. You don't like drinking without your friends but you made the terrible choice to drown in booze to forget about the fight with your parents and here you are. Wallowing in self pity. And alcohol. A lot of it, it seemed.

“Baby?”

Rubbing your eyes with a sigh, you replied with a soft hi and there's some shuffling in the background.

“How's the party? Eat any fancy finger food yet? Or is it just champagne?”

“Fuck off.” You couldn't help your chuckle. Your feet somehow carry you out of the porch and into the pool area. Everything felt hot.

You can hear your boyfriends' deep chuckle before he teased you some more, attempting to rile you up. JJ was aware that when you called him at a party was either because you wanted to leave or you just got tired of being socially active and the excuse of being on the phone was good to keep people away temporarily. He wanted to know which was the option now.

“So?”

“'s boring. I wanna— Ouch.” Your laugh was loud but you didn't had a filter with the alcohol in your system so you didn't think much of it or that it wasn't so funny to stumble and fall flat on your ass.

“What?” JJ seemed to notice your lack of sobriety through your continuous giggles. “Where are you right now?” He prompted, eyeing the van's keys on the bowl beside him but not moving to grasp it quite yet. You were a big girl, you could handle yourself; you told him that once when you called him drunk and he showed up to take you home because he was worried. You were pissed. He'd never do it again unless he felt the need to. He didn't want to be possessive in any way.

“Wish I was with you.” He couldn't see your pout but he knew it was there. “Listen... We should go for a midnight swim—is it midnight yet?” You laughed, crawling towards the edge of the pool. The water looked so clean and it was so hot, you just wanted a quick swim.

“It's 1am, baby.”

“Perfect.”

The blond's lips quirked up slightly. “You sure you good? Not doing anything stupid, right?”

“You said it yourself stupid things have good outcomes all the time.” You retorted, taking off your sandals. “Ah, shit. I didn't brought a bikini.”

“Why would you need a bikini?” JJ yawned, resting back comfortably against John B's beaten-up couch. “Was it a pool party? I can't remember you telling me—”

“Not a pool party but they have a pool.” You clarify, blinking down at your outfit. “Baby, I gotta get off my dress, I don't wanna make it wet.”

The way he sat up so quickly that Pope, who was thrown on the loveseat gave him a look of confusion.

“Why do you wanna— Where are you?”

You sighed impatiently. “Told you we should have a midnight swim! I'm by the pool—”

“Okay, yeah, no.” JJ grabbed the car keys and practically sprint out the door. So much for not doing anything stupid. “Baby, can you do me a favour?”

Your face scrunched up and you shook your head. “No. 'm gonna wait for you in the pool—”

“No, you're not. You're gonna get your pretty little feet away from whatever pool you're nearby and you're gonna wait for me, got it?”

“But the midnight swim...” you slurred out, throwing your head back with a groan. “C'mon, stars ar' out and—”

“We'll have a swim when I get there but only if you wait for me, 'kay?” JJ tried a different tactic, a bit desperate for you to get the hell away from the pool while being drunk. “Where are you at again?” He knew some of your friends but he didn't know exactly whose house you were at.

“Stacy's.” You replied, dumping your feet in the pool and dangling them from one side to the other. You were sitting at the edge, the party inside echoing all of the excitement from strangers and the few (three?) people you barely knew.

The Twinkie was on before JJ even shut the door.

“Baby?”

He said carefully, praying you hadn't jumped in the pool in the meanwhile. You let out a low hum in response.

“Your dress' still on, right, princess.”

“Why? You wanna take it off?” She chuckled, leaning back to rest against her elbows. “Still on. 'm waiting f'you like you asked.”

“Good girl.” He turned on the street and now it was only ten minutes away by car. He'd make it in five. “Hey. Are you dizzy or feeling lightheaded? Are you sitting down?”

“Okay, doctor Maybank. You're doing a full checkup or something—Hey!” You exclaimed in indignation when a splash went off and you got soaked. Someone had jumped on the pool. A group of girls that were shrieking like little kids. You stumbled away from the pool, your eyes a little more focused now as you walked towards the backdoor, pushing between people to reach the exit and leave that fucking party. God why did you even came?

“Babe, you good? I'm here.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, watching the beat up van park in front of Stacy's house. “I see you.”

JJ stepped out of the vehicle to greet you. You met him halfway, a pout on yours lips when he asked why on earth were you wet. “Did you get into the pool—”

“No! Some stupid girls jumped in it and I was sitting close!” You whined and JJ's concern turned into amusement really quickly. “Stupid, fucking—”

“Alright, alright.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders to bring you closer, running a hand across your back and pressing his lips against your forehead. Your sigh was muffled when you buried your face in his shirt. “Let's get you in some nice comfy and dry clothes, yeah? You good with that?”

“You promised a swim.”

He kissed your pout away until it became a smile you were trying to break into a frown but was unable to.

“Sobriety first then we'll swim and surf and do whatever you want, baby.”

Just definitely not tonight.

[rwshfordgirl]

"SO, HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY TO US."

all the images were taken from pinterest.

where after a long time without seeing each other, he appears at her house by surprise.

pairing: kenan yildiz x reader!

a/n: i don't have a honest opinion about everything i wrote here 💔 but I hope you like it!

𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬

I just spent three hours of my life sitting in the uncomfortable chair in the college library, the only place where I can study in peace without being disturbed by my roommate.

Three hours disconnected from the world outside campus, without giving a sign of life to my family and boyfriend. I was five minutes from home when I picked up my cell phone to check messages, my parents sent photos of landscapes unknown to me and Kenan asked if I had arrived home yet. I sent hearts in response to my parents' photos and sent a photo of myself walking towards my house to Yildiz. This one, in turn, saw the message as soon as I sent  and sent a photo of himself in response. 

"Miss you so much, pretty boy." I sent an audio, holding back tears. I almost sat down on the sidewalk to make a video call with Yildiz and say that I would drop everything here just to go be with him. "I miss you too, aşk" I felt my heart melt after the audio he had just sent.

Three months without seeing Kenan. I feel my chest hurt all the time, I miss being at home with him, I miss his hugs, taking silly pictures with him, going out, watching him play in Turin, I miss everything that involves him. Seeing him every day on my cell phone screen is not enough, but I can't go to Italy right now and he can't come see me either.

I almost kicked a rock when I walked past a restaurant on the corner of my house and saw couples enjoying Valentine's Day. Oh shit, I wish Kenan was here right now.

I also wish I could describe everything I felt when I got close to my house and saw a figure sitting on the last step of the stairs, all dressed in black and with a hood over his head. I ran because I knew it was Kenan, I knew it was him, I think I would recognize him even if he had been completely disguised. He got up as soon as he heard my footsteps.

Yildiz wrapped his arms around me and spun me around. I felt my eyes fill with tears,,"Did you miss me?" he asked while still hugging me, his voice muffled by the urge of my hair. "You still ask? I was willing to get home and buy a ticket to Turin." Yildiz's hands left my back and stopped on on my cheeks. "Juventus gave us two days off, but I can only stay here until midday tomorrow." he explained.

Before responding to what he had just said, I made sure to place our lips together, a kiss of longing. Three months without it almost killed me. "Let's go in, I'll order something for us to eat! I just want to stay glued to you until it's time for you to leave."

I intertwined our hands and pulled him into the house, a note right at the entrance  indicated that my roommate would be spending the night out, I almost jumped for joy. instead I took my boyfriend to my room.

"I think we should go out instead of eating here, what do you think?" he sat in my desk chair "Seriously? you want to go out instead of staying here with me?" I pouted and he nodded with a playful smile on his face "I'll be with you either way." he pulled me close, his legs were behind me and his hands were on my back. "I missed you so much, love" he said before taking my hand and kissing it. "You missed me and yet you want to go out instead of sleeping with me?" I joked with him "but I missed you too, baby boy."

"I brought you something." He said, taking a small box out of his jacket's inside pocket. "Happy Valentine's Day, love." He handed me the object. Inside the box was a necklace with a black circular pendant. "Look inside it." He said, and so I did. "I can't believe it, Kenan! How beautiful." I felt my eyes watering when I looked inside the pendant and saw a thumbnail of a photo we took together on our first date, surrounded by the phrase "I love you" written in several languages.

I hugged Kenan awkwardly due to the position we were in. "Thank you so much, love! I really loved it." I kissed his cheek before sitting at his feet. Kenan ran his hand through my hair and bent down to kiss my forehead. "Promise not to be mad at me? Your gift isn't here because I ordered it online and asked for it to be delivered to your house." He chuckled before answering me "Of course I won't be upset about that, silly!" Another kiss on the forehead "Do you want to know what it is?" He denied "I want it to be a surprise." We smiled together "So, happy Valentine's Day to us."

Kenan's chin was gently resting on my head and I knew he was smiling even without seeing it. "So, shall we go out to eat something? I'm starving." I asked, "You know what, do you want to go?" I rolled my eyes playfully, "Let's go, I know you want to."  I stood up and gave him my hand, intending to help him get out of the chair. "I promise I'll lie down with you watching all the movies you want, as soon as we get back." He hugged me as soon as he got up. "I don't want to watch movies, I want to lie down just admiring you." he gave me a little kiss.

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

tainted love

pairing: javier peña x steve murphy

cws/tags: only one bed, when you gotta jerk off ur partner bc he can't sleep but it's just a platonic thing dw #totallynotgay, use of f-slur, frottage, watching porn together briefly, mutual masturbation, technically infidelity ig but what connie doesn't know can't hurt her

summary: steve can't sleep and he's keeping javi up, so they have to jerk off ???

a/n: homosexual activities return to my blog

thank you to @almostempty for your help w this ! i could not have done this w/o you

wc: 3k

It’s not the first time Javi’s ended up with Steve’s name on his lips and his own hand wrapped around his cock. It’s not an everyday occurrence – Javi has tons of masturbation-worthy images in his collection of sacred memories. He’s got dalliances with hookers, something more and simultaneously less with that one communist girl, even Lorraine, back when she was something other than a blurry, ever-present mistake in his periphery. But, these thoughts are finite. In desperation, he’ll search for more. 

Sometimes more is his partner, partner in work, not in sex, not really, not yet. It comes down to the way Steve looks when he’s pissed off, the way anger forces him into physical contact despite the fact that he’s not a touchy-feely guy. It’s the time he had Javi pressed up against the wall in the hallway of the DEA office in Medellin – it felt like deja vu, he’d seen that moment on an x-rated videotape that no one would ever know he rented. Fuck government secrets, it’d take a harsh interrogation to get Javi to reveal the fact that he watched gay porn by his own volition. More than once. 

It’s a sleepless night like any other except Javi’s not in his own bed or anyone else’s, he’s in a hotel room he’s sharing with Murphy. It’s not the worst thing that could’ve happened – he could’ve gotten stuck with Stechner, but Messina decided to pair up with him for a reason Javi doesn’t want to hear about. 

There’s alcohol somewhere, but not in his overnight bag – maybe in the minibar, but that’s on the far side of the room and whether it comes out of his pocket or not, the prices make him feel sicker than a hangover would.  

Though he and Steve are facing away from each other, he can tell that he’s not sleeping either. It needles at him in the dark. Steve’s wakefulness bleeding onto Javi’s side of the bed, his body heat threatening to burn through the ever present wall of masculinity that keeps him at a distance. 

Murphy tosses and turns to the point where Javi wonders if he’s doing it for attention – he’s doing a great job if so. Javi rolls over to tell him to cool it. 

“Would you cut that shit out?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Neither can I. Because of you.”

Steve shrugs as best one can in his position. 

“What do you want? A bedtime story?”

“Might be kinda nice.”

“Alright,” Javi says, like he’s really committed to the idea. “One night, there was a DEA agent who killed his partner–”

“Okay. I get it.”

“How the fuck does Connie sleep in the same bed as you?”

“I guess I don’t really toss and turn when I’m with her.” He pauses.

“She usually holds me – or I hold her. Not like a baby or anything, but you know…”

“You need to be cuddled to sleep? Seriously?”

He really seems to think about it. “No.”

“‘Cause the only way I’m holding you is in a headlock.”

“How do women sleep with you, huh? You’re wide awake and pissy about it.”

“When I said women sleep with me, I didn’t mean it literally.”

“So, you kick ‘em out of bed? Sounds about right,” Murphy says it with a smirk, like he’s gotten one over on Javi, but he hasn’t. 

“No, they know to leave. Or, I do. It’s bedroom etiquette. You wouldn’t know.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’ve got something better – a wife. She sleeps with me for free.”

“God knows why.”

“She loves me. I’m loveable, Javi.”

That one strikes a nerve, but Javi doesn’t dare let it show.

“Maybe by her standards.”

“You saying she has low standards?”

“She could do better. She’s a very nice woman.”

“What does that mean?”

“Relax, man. I’m not trying to fuck your wife. I’m not that much of a scumbag.”

“Good. Not that I think she’d be into you anyway.”

“Plus, I can get laid without traveling to Miami.”

Steve huffs. It was a low blow, Javi’s willing to admit that.

“Okay, listen. We gotta be up in the morning, so let’s get practical here. You with me, Murphy?”

“Aye aye, cap,” he says with the least enthusiasm. 

“So, she’s been gone for a while, and I don’t see you coming to work looking like complete shit – at least, not any worse than you used to — so how are you getting to sleep?”

“I mean, I usually, you know…”

When Javi gestures to say go on, though he’s pretty sure he knows, Steve says much quieter, “Jerk off.”

“Was it that hard to say it?”

“I mean, it’s a little awkward.”

“What are you? 12? Everyone jerks off.”

“So, what? You want me to just jerk off?”

“Not here,” he says incredulously at the notion despite the fact that it does excite him. “In the shower if you have to.”

“I don’t usually do it in the shower.”

“You get to try something new then.”

“If I have to get up, then dry off, get dressed again, I think it’ll just start the whole process over.”

“So what? You want me to go stand outside and wait for you to finish?”

“The idea doesn’t sound unappealing…”

“No way am I doing that.”

Pissed off and admittedly aroused by the thought, he suggests, “You know what? Fuck it – put up a pillow barrier between us, and go ahead. Find something on pay-per-view so I don’t have to hear anything from you.”

“You serious?”

“If it’ll help you sleep.”

They fight over pillows and that’s only half the battle.

“Do you think they’ll know we’re buying–”

“Yes, so get something normal, will you? I don’t want anything weird showing up on the bill.”

“Relax. What’d you think I was gonna pick?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really think about your porn habits.”

“Well, what do you like?”

“What?”

“What do you like, Javi? We should find something we agree on.”

“So, now I’m a part of this?”

“I was trying to be nice.”

Javi stays silent while Steve rattles off possibilities. “We’ve got lesbians, mature women, threesomes…”

Javi gives him an unenthusiastic ‘sure’ to each option. 

“Oh, here’s the gay section,” Murphy says with a laugh.

And to avoid an awkward silence, Javi jokes - or tries to, “Don’t knock it till you try it.”

And Steve’s head turns around faster than you’d think was possible. “Oh, so you’ve tried it?”

“I was making a joke.”

“That’s not a no.”

“Why do you even care? Just stop stalling and pick something.”

Though he’s clearly still considering prying, he settles on whatever the most basic shit is – some blonde girl getting railed by some dude with a cock big enough to distract from his lackluster face. 

It’s about a minute of fake moaning that somehow makes things worse before Steve asks, “Do you think if we change the channel, they won’t charge us since we barely watched it?”

“Might as well try. Turn on PBS or something. That shit’s always free.”

It’s free but it’s a science documentary. Slimy jellyfish and the old men who know a concerning amount about them flood the screen. 

“Just turn off the TV,” Javi says, unable to hide his disgust.

Murphy spits into his hand, takes his cock out, and Javi is listening intently to it all. It makes him uncomfortably hard. He won’t sleep if he doesn’t get off, and at this point there’s no real shame in it. 

They breathe in tandem, each strangled sound egging the other one on, until Steve dares to ask, “So, you said you’ve watched gay porn before?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you didn’t say you haven’t.”

“Fine. Yes, I have. Can we go back to not talking right now?”

“But I’m curious.”

“Keep your curiosity to yourself.”

“Have you ever done anything with a guy?”

“Why? Do you want me to tell you a story about me getting a handjob from some guy outside a bar when I was hammered? You really wanna get off to that?”

“Maybe. If you can jazz it up a little.”

“I barely even remember it.”

That’s not entirely true. 

Sure, the memory’s faded a little over time, but he wasn’t blackout drunk like he wants Steve to believe. He was young, and a little bit desperate due to a recent breakup. It was hard to put on a face that said ‘I’m approachable and you’d have a good time if I took you home,” so the only attention he got that night was from a guy only a bit older than him, he’d guess. It was the kind of thing where he should’ve known it wasn’t friendly banter from the beginning, and maybe he did – he just didn’t want to believe that he was letting this happen, that he was engaging in it, that he was enjoying it. 

It got a little touchy-feely in a way real Texan men aren’t supposed to, unless they’re faggots. The word rings in Javi’s ear, and it’s the only thing louder than Murphy’s heavy breathing, which is far closer in time and space. 

The guy – whose name he’ll likely never know – led him outside and whatever ‘it’ was went down in an alley.

“Did you like it?”

“I liked it enough.”

Enough to cum from a handjob alone, and enough to try to give one back, and the only reason he didn’t really get to was because his hands shook, and it was summertime. 

‘You’re not used to this are you?’.

‘No, I’ve never…’

‘It’s okay,’ he said, removing Javi’s hand, gingerly, almost apologetic.

The goodbye kiss was anything but – it was tongue and teeth, indulgent. You could say it was self-indulgent on the other guys’ part, but you’d be wrong. It felt like it lasted longer than the handjob, and maybe it did, but god, that’d be too embarrassing to admit even in his own mind. It was the kind of kiss that dared Javi’s cock to spring back to life and he fought it desperately. 

‘See you around.’

But the pair never did. Javi convinced himself it never happened and during drinking games or friendly teasing he insisted that he’d never touched another man, just like every other friend of his. 

So, why would he tell Steve?

Before Murphy can ask another goddamn question, he turns it on the fucker, “Why don’t you tell me about your sex life?”

“I mean, besides Connie, there hasn’t been anyone since I was, fuck, I don’t know…”

“Is Connie any good?”

“Of course she’s good.”

Javi waits for the ‘but’ with a raised eyebrow, and it comes. 

“It just gets boring, alright? I love her, though.”

And Javi knows he does. He knows he does because Murphy can’t sleep without her in bed beside him. 

It doesn’t miss Javi that Steve’s breath falters more when Javi’s name leaves his mouth. 

“Javi…” He’s been stroking himself the entire time, but he’s not close, it’s not a plea to cum. It’s a hesitant question. 

“Yes, Murphy?”

“Why do you always call me by my last name?”

“I don’t know, Steve.”

It’s just to get a reaction out of him, which it does, subtle enough that another person might not catch on, but Javi’s waiting for it. 

And the reason is probably somewhere between the fact that he calls everyone by last name - and, come to think of it, it’s actually kinda weird that Murphy calls him by his first name - and because he feels like exchanging first names equals real friendship and somehow, that’s too intimate for Javi.

“Is that better?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Steve…”

“Yeah?”

“You want this, right?”

“If you do.”

“You gotta tell me. ‘Cause I’m not doing anything if you’re not into it.”

The distance between them dissipates. It doesn’t matter who closes the gap – if one didn’t, the other would. 

Javi looks back and forth between Steve’s cock and his mouth and tries to decide what’s right. Because he wants both, he has to find another metric to measure, to make his choices for him. 

Dive right in and take Steve’s cock in his hand to avoid the intimacy that locking lips requires? Kiss him to quiet everything including his own mind? 

He’s dumbfounded for a moment and you’d think he’s the one who’s never touched a man before if you didn’t know any better. The thing is: Javi can jerk another man off, even give a likely mediocre drunken blowjob. The difference is, this is Steve, naked in bed beside him. The difference is, he’s thought about this. The decision to do this shouldn’t be this easy when he’s sober. But his inhibitions are dangerously low because he’s dreamed about this. 

He’s played out fantasies before that he knows wouldn’t - shouldn’t – become reality. There are countless reasons not to do this - Steve is married, this could ruin both of their careers, this could compromise the most important case in DEA history. 

There is only one reason this should happen: desire.

Javi leads with his heart not his head (admittedly, his dick has influenced this specific decision to a significant degree).

His contemplation is cut off by Murphy’s lips pressed to his. The kiss is hesitant only until Javi reciprocates. Then it leans more towards animalistic than sweet but it’s needier than anything. Between the two of them desperation has only ever led to tension that boils over into fighting, but somehow insomnia is all it took to get them here. 

His brain has one thought playing on loop - the simple fact that he is actively kissing Steve Murphy. Until his mind is free of thoughts. Sex usually works like that for him, particularly with women ‘cause he doesn’t have to worry about the persistent guilt and fear of getting caught in the back of his mind, but his stress rarely fades at just kissing. Maybe they’re not just kissing. It feels like something more. Javi can’t think, but he sure as hell can feel, and he’ll feel this for days, weeks, months, maybe years if he’s really unlucky and there’s no feeling strong enough to replace this one.

The pillows that stood between them are now strewn across the floor as are the pretences. This isn’t one coworker tolerating another’s nighttime routine – at the very least, this is a friend helping a friend in a time of need. But that sounds too innocuous – too generous, even sacrificial. What they’re doing is fumbling around in the dark (even though Javi aches to turn on the lamp, to see, to savor) trying to find out how to get this over with the quickest, what will make the other cum first while learning how to drag this out, how to tease, how to get the other to the edge and no further. How to do this together. 

It starts with the kiss, with Javi lazily stroking his own cock until he dares to place his hand on Steve’s inner thigh. It’s a hesitant question and a final warning, and in response Steve’s breath hitches. They lock eyes for a moment before Javi removes Steve’s hand from his cock and replaces it with his own. There is no protest, only a low groan before he takes Javi’s cock in his hand with a firm grip that makes it feel more like retaliation than returned favor. It also feels way too fucking good. Javi takes it as an invitation for competition, his right hand is more dedicated and focused, moving faster while his left grabs Steve’s jaw and brings him into a kiss fueled by a passion that feels closer to rage than love. 

Javi takes Steve’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugs on it slightly, as if a gentle pull in the right direction would bring Steve into Javi’s lap. It elicits a startled jump in his ragged breath - and they were long overdue to pull back for a breath - Javi takes the opportune moment to tell Steve to come closer in a voice that one uses to discipline an unruly soldier. 

Javi has to maintain a certain amount of control through aggression lest he let the mask slip and reveal his own nervousness, his curiosity, how little he really knows about how this is supposed to go, and how much he wants to press Steve flat on the mattress and take this slow. 

He finds himself moving hastily to shift himself and his partner - now in work and in sex - into a position where he can jerk them both off simultaneously, cocks loosely held together in his fist. Javi’s thrusts lead and Steve’s follow. 

Neither of them last very long. 

There’s a collective initial sigh of physical relief and a subsequent realization of what had just occurred between the two of them. 

What is he supposed to say? ‘Thanks’? ‘Sleep tight’? Is he supposed to say anything at all?

Murphy gets out of bed disturbing the relative peace in the air. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Javi asks.

“Shower,” Murphy says, leaning in the doorway of the bathroom. “Ever heard of one?”

“Thought you didn’t wanna take a shower ‘cause it would make it harder to sleep.”

And that’s how we ended up here. 

“I’m not going to bed like this,” he says, gesturing to the mess he and Javi had both left on his stomach. 

“I don’t wanna go to bed like this either, but it’s four in the goddamn morning.” They’re back to whisper yelling and somehow it feels nice to have that sense of normalcy. 

Murphy stands there waiting for a better argument, but instead he gets Javi storming out of bed straight towards him and dragging him into the shower. 

It’s not romantic, not in the slightest - they argue over the water temperature and who’s taking up too much room. They don’t wash each other’s hair or look at each other with stars in their eyes. But, they leave their clothes on the floor and slip into bed naked, not holding each other, but not wincing when their shoulders touch. 

“Did that really happen last night?” Murphy asks with a yawn, forcing Javi to confront reality after he’s pressed snooze more than once. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “You tell me.”

“Yeah, yeah, I think so.” He sounds more confident with every word. 

“Okay. Then, I think so too.” 

[11queensupreme11]

So I have a question? You know that song lyric “Would you still love me if I’m no longer young and beautiful?” By Lana Del Rey. Okay so I’m gonna give you a scenario I’ve been thinking about adding to my story (as a draft for the next interlude after I finish the next reaction chapter)

So it goes a little like this:

Let say Percy who was a goddess (like in the last ask) got cheated on by Cu and, in her despair, killed herself.

(This is just a draft but I do plan on starting the chapter with her suicide note to her children first. Then to each of the yans individually. And maybe a couple to the friends and family she made on the way. So like a note to Shiva and his wives, Adamas, maybe Hercules and Prometheus, and…Ra(surprise! 🤭) honestly, I plan on making his a mixture of kinda funny/sarcastic, but also nostalgic and sad.)

Everyone finds out of course. And Zeus, devestated by the loss of his favorite neice, incensed by the disrespect shown to the Greek Pantheon by the Celtic Pantheon, spurred on by his son, brothers, and pantheon’s devestation and righteous anger at Percy’s death, along with the Egyptian, Norse, Abrahamic,Hindu, etc. Pantheons’ anger with what Cu did, obviously, declare war. The heavens are split and in utter chaos as the two sides form and each side is gathering allies for the upcoming war (it’ll be known as the “The Divine Schism” later on.

So, as u can imagine, this results in a lot of death, a lot of emotions flying around, and it isn’t even just the gods fighting other gods. Or Percy’s children fighting her other children(wish she begged them in her letter not to do, but she’s gone now; and her children are just as unhinged as their dads) . It also causes the humans to fight too because she was friends with a lot of them and a lot of them blame the Celtic people for 1)encouraging the views that made Cu think it was okay to do that (which is hypocritical because they still believe or once believed and would have done the same thing just due to the time period they were raised/born into, but a lot of them liked Percy so she was the exception) and 2) for not trying harder to keep him under control back when he was still a human on Midgard (Papa Adam is REALLY disappointed).

ANYWAY!

At this point, the war has gotten bad enough that the Fates, the Morrigan, the Norns, and all the other gods and goddesses related to fate and destiny realize that sooner or later the gods are going to end up fighting each other into extinction (with the humans in Vallhalla doing the same) and so they do some research (through their powers which were given to them by “the-Powers-that-Be” (which I actually mentioned in a chapter already but basically that’s the power that created them, their universe, and all the other universes that exist or will ever exist) and find out that, while Percy did die when she killed herself, for whatever reason, she didn’t end up going to Niflheim and instead got reincarnated into a different universe and nope🤭🤭it’s NOT the PJO universe. Which universe it is, I’m going to keep that a secret for now but I wouldn’t mind doing a poll to see which universe everyone would WANT her to be in. It might even help me decide. (just know it’s gonna be an anime universe. So either One Piece, Bleach, Naruto, or something else. It’ll have to be one I’ve read or watched before tho.) but it’s a secret, even to me, until I actually sit down and write this chapter.

Anyway, they find her reincarnated soul (in this I think I’m going to make it so that she only remembers SOME of her past life as a goddess and a demigod and it comes to her in her dreams) and, in order to stop the godly war that threatens the very foundations of their universe, they sit the Pantheons down (what’s left of them anyway) and tell them about what happened and where she is now. This, of course revitalizes the yans (ESPECIALLY CU!!!) because they see it as a second chance to get her back and make SURE she NEVER leaves them EVER again. (I’m talking they might actually lock her in a palace where they watch her every move 24/7 for the rest of eternity)

So they come up with a plan to basically kidnap her from this other plane. In this other universe tho, she’s lived a full, happy life. Sure it had some challenges (if she’s in One Piece I’m gonna make it so that she was Ace’s sister so she def fought in Marineford (love interest: Shanks), if in Bleach I’m making her the Captain of one of the divisions (Love interest:Sosuke Aizen 🤭🤭), if in Naruto ( I honestly can’t see her as an assassin/killer which is literally all ninjas are trained to do when u get to the crux of it so maybe like a political figure of peace? A daiymo maybe? Idk I’d have to figure it out (love interest: Kakashi Hatake, Itachi Uchiha, or Madara Uchiha depending on what time period I want her to be reincarnated into)

I plan on having her influence a lot of stuff, fall in love, have children with said Love Interest, and be an old lady by the time they start looking for her ( might have to write this in three parts since I do want to dedicate a chapter to her life in that other universe).

I’m still trying to figure out all the logistics since I want it to be believable and not just super random and unorganized because there are a lot of moving parts.

But my question to u is what do u think the yans will think (at this point in time) or do about an old, grandma version of Percy? Will it matter to them? She won’t be the same Percy at this point. She might remember some things about them but for the most part she won’t remember them and tho she might have the same morals as the last Percy, because of the stuff she went through in this new universe, she isn’t just physically different (old) but mentally too.

EVERYTHING HERE IS PERFECT BUT I JUST HAVE ONE CORRECTION:

"while Percy did die when she killed herself, for whatever reason, she didn’t end up going to Niflheim and instead got reincarnated"

it's niflhel!!! niflhel (or oblivion, nonexistence, whatever) is where all gods and mortal souls (after dying in the afterlife) go to when they die!

anyway.................

AIZEN SOSUKE????????? AND KAKASHI????????????

dude i genuinely don't know who to vote for, kakashi has been my anime crush SINCE I WAS A LITTLE GIRL, and aizen's so fucking daddy too omg why would you make us pick between them that's so cruel 😭😭😭😭😭😭

as for your question, age wouldn't matter much to them cuz they can just forcefully revert her back to her prime or back to whatever age/appearance they last saw her as!

the issue is the mentality 😞 if she's too different (like if she's not the same sweet, cheery, uwu, and infuriatingly annoying and troublesome girl that they know, then they might actually feel defeated. it's percy.... but at the same time it's not THEIR percy

tbh they'd probably try to find a way to revert her back to the percy they know, but if that doesn't work or they can't do it, then it's back to despair and anger 💀

[yanderes-galore]

may I request a yandere concept for James Sunderland in DBD?٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

Here's the mentally unstable and depressed blonde. But in DBD. I reread the previous stuff I did for him to try and help me write him how I did before.

I'M SO MAD THE SILENT HILL 2 REMAKE ISN'T FOR XBOX YET! 😭

Here's some prompts I did for him.

Here's some Tarot HCs I did for him.

Yandere! James Sunderland (DBD) Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Delusional behavior, Murder mentioned, Jealousy, Projections, Possessive behavior, Guilt, Depression, Mentions of suicidal thoughts, Attempted murder on Darling mentioned, Denial, Manipulation, James plays victim, Forced affection mentioned, Forced relationship.

Honestly, having him as a yandere in his original universe is already bad enough.

James comes from a pretty tough place in his life.

After the death of his wife, he went to Silent Hill for either answers or clarity...

Then all of a sudden he's here, in an entirely new hell where he has to face creatures and killers beyond comprehension.

I've said this in previous posts about him, but James is extremely delusional and mentally unstable.

This is a man who killed his wife while she was dying in the hospital.

He's a man plagued with depression and has thought of ending it quite a lot.

When it comes to his obsession, he most likely sees you like he did with Mary, his wife.

He's often tormented by how much you remind him of her (regardless of gender).

This makes James conflicted enough as is.

At first, James doesn't want to admit he's falling for you.

He doesn't believe he deserves to be loved or even feel love again.

He feels panicked when he feels his cheeks warm or his chest beat faster.

He tells himself you don't even mean to make him feel this way.

You're just helping him survive, you're a survivor.

The only reason you help him is to benefit yourself.

Yet he's over here getting all bothered because you're paying attention to him.

He's pathetic and he knows it.

Despite his denial, he still feels his feelings getting stronger.

He falls fast due to how unstable he is.

Deep down James wants to chase how you make him feel.

He wants you to drown him in your everything, to make him forget about Mary.

He craves your kisses, warmth, hold, all of it.

He wants that so bad, he doesn't care how wrong any of it is.

He wants you to help him cope, but none of it is healthy.

He doesn't deserve to feel possessive or jealous.

He doesn't deserve you.

Yet isn't it human nature to want something you can't have?

James is unpredictable, always too deep in his delusions and hallucinations.

Now's not the time for any of that... You need to survive.

Unfortunately... James can't ignore the envy he feels forever.

He's aware he's a horrible person, a monster probably just as bad as all the others here.

Yet he craves you like you're his sanctuary.

James gets irritable when he sees you with other survivors.

He sometimes even hates how Mary seems to haunt him in your features.

James can never seem to cope properly.

His poor obsession is often a victim of this.

James tends to cling to his obsession.

He's either always following you or trying to pull you into tight hugs.

He's a possessive man, always muttering and asking you to forgive him.

He knows he shouldn't be doing any of this, he should leave you alone.

Yet he continues his actions, often pleading for you to forgive him until someone pries him off.

James has frequent unstable thoughts.

He plots how to harm or get rid of other survivors, even if they'll just come back.

There's even some brief delusional thoughts he has about Mary, making him target you.

It's terrifying when he pins you to a tree, hands around your neck as he calls you 'Mary'.

You're scared to die, even if it doesn't matter in this place.

James has no morals, not anymore.

James is aware of his failing mental state.

In fact... He knows how to use it.

James knows he should be ashamed of playing victim... but...

It gets you to play attention to him.

If James opens up to you, something he usually hates doing, he can garner your pity.

If he tells you about his depression... his darker thoughts... you'll comfort him.

You won't pay attention to anyone else if he steals your attention, right?

He doesn't care if he's manipulating you.

Your eyes are on him... you're holding him... you're comforting him...

He hopes you'll let him kiss your lips too, he wants to taste you.

James is a pathetic man who can't figure out what he wants.

He wants you to tend and care for him, to make him forget about Mary.

At the same time he views your presence as torture, only able to see Mary in you.

James isn't sure how much he can take.

Maybe this really is hell.

Maybe you're meant to be his torment, a worse torment compared to all the monsters in this place.

James hates it at times... but you're all he ever wants.

He's addicted to you, no matter how violent it makes him.

The others know him as a liability.

But he needs you.

Every kiss and ounce of affection... He takes it.

Even if you didn't want to give it.

James is a pathetic and selfish man.

He used to deny that, but he knows it now.

James would do anything to keep you to himself.

Manipulation, murder, it doesn't matter in the end really...

James just needs you, dead or alive...

You're his only way to cope.

[ditsycafe]

the devils temptation | k.s

pairings : kim sunoo x fem!reader

genre : suggestive

warnings : mafia boss’s daughter!au, detective!sunoo, mention of jake sim, drugs,

summary : Agent Kim Sunoo, a dedicated investigator, finally gets a break in his case against infamous mafia boss jake sim when his daughter, Y/N sim, is arrested at the scene of a drug trade. Confident that he can use her to bring down her father’s empire, Sunoo interrogates her—only to find himself caught in a dangerous game of seduction and deception.

word count : 541 (small scenario)

a/n : do not in any way plagiarise, translate my work to another language or claim my work as your own.

Kim Sunoo had seen his fair share of criminals—men who killed without blinking, women who ran scams that could bankrupt a nation. But nothing had prepared him for her.

Y/N Sim.

Daughter of Jake Sims, the most feared mafia boss in the city. The kind of man whose name sent shivers down the spines of politicians, police chiefs, and rival gangs alike. A man who had evaded justice for years, slipping through the cracks like smoke.

But today, his precious daughter was in Sunoo’s custody.

She sat across from him in the dimly lit interrogation room, her hands cuffed to the metal table, her long nails tapping rhythmically against the surface. She wasn’t panicked. She wasn’t angry. If anything, she looked amused.

“Agent Kim Sunoo,” she purred, her voice smooth as silk. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Sunoo folded his arms, keeping his expression neutral. “That’s funny. You weren’t exactly on my radar.”

She smirked. “Well, you should have been. I’m very… persuasive.”

He ignored the way her voice sent a shiver down his spine. He had a job to do.

“We found you at the scene of the drug trade. You were there. You saw what happened. That makes you an accomplice.”

Y/N tilted her head, her dark eyes gleaming. “You say accomplice, I say innocent bystander.” She leaned forward, her chained wrists barely allowing her movement. “Do I look like I’d be handling drugs, Sunoo?

Sunoo forced himself to keep his gaze steady. She did look out of place in that world—dressed in an elegant black dress, her perfume expensive, her posture poised. But that made her even more dangerous. She wasn’t just Jake Sims’ daughter; she was his secret weapon.

“You were in the middle of a crime scene,” Sunoo stated. “I can hold you here for 48 hours while I dig through your past. And trust me, I will find something.”

Y/N exhaled dramatically. “So serious.” She leaned back, letting the tension simmer between them. Then, slowly, deliberately, she smiled.

“I can help you,” she murmured.

Sunoo frowned. “Help me?”

She nodded. “You want my father, don’t you? You want to put an end to his empire.” Her eyes flickered with something unreadable. “I can give you what you need.”

Sunoo studied her carefully. It was a tempting offer, but one he couldn’t trust. “Why would you betray your father?”

Y/N chuckled. “Who said anything about betrayal? I just don’t like being locked up.” She shifted in her seat, the movement drawing attention to the curve of her body. “And I think you don’t like seeing me here either.”

Sunoo clenched his jaw. He wasn’t stupid. He had seen criminals use seduction as a weapon before, but this—this was different. Y/N wasn’t just trying to get inside his head. She was already there.

“I could make this easy for both of us,” she whispered, her voice dripping with promise. “Let me go, and I’ll make sure you get what you want.”

Sunoo exhaled sharply. “And how do I know you won’t run straight back to your father?”

She smiled, slow and dangerous. “Because, Agent Kim, I like playing games. And you? You’re the most interesting piece on the board.”

For the first time in his career, Sunoo hesitated.

And Y/N Sim knew she had won.

all rights to this work belongs to me @ditsycafe.

[umi-adxhira]

ᝰ.ᐟ SERENITY | 021

FANDOM: TWTPTFLOB

WARNINGS: Um Dion, knocking reader unconscious

AUTHOR'S NOTES: :)

◄ PREVIOUS CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER ►

It’s been a week since the incident, and now you’re able to walk, although the stitches and bandages wrapped around your body mildly restrict your movements. You make the decision not to leave your room - it’s unsafe to walk around vulnerable when demon children lurk in every shadow. You’ve already lost two maids. Now either Roxana or Griselda brings you food, carefully tasting it beforehand to ensure it isn't poisoned.

Technically, you could walk if you wanted to, but the truth is, standing for too long makes your legs weak. You hate the feeling of helplessness, of fragility, but you know better than to push yourself too soon.

A voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

“Why are you spacing out?” Jeremy, the boy in front of you, tilts his head, curiosity flickering in his sharp eyes. You blink a few times before offering him a small smile.

“Sorry. Just thinking,” you say, brushing off your wandering thoughts.

This time, neither Roxana nor Griselda was available, so Jeremy has taken it upon himself to bring your meal. You watch as he takes a bite of the steak and vegetables first, chewing thoughtfully before nodding.

“It’s fine. Eat up.”

He hands you the plate, and you thank him before picking up your fork. Silence settles between you both as you eat, the clinking of cutlery against porcelain filling the quiet.

After a while, Jeremy speaks. “It’s good that Fontaine died.” Your hand pauses mid-motion. Jeremy doesn’t look at you as he continues, his voice nonchalant, as if discussing the weather. “No one liked him much anyway. But it’s annoying that bastard Dion was the one who killed him.”

You swallow your bite, washing it down with water before responding. “Dion isn’t that bad. He’s been nice to me so far.”

Jeremy scoffs. “He’s annoying. Stubborn, too. Roxana doesn’t like him, so I don’t like him either.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Do you feel like you have to dislike the same people Roxana does to win her favor? Because if so, you really don’t need to. I’m sure she’d appreciate your true self more than an imitation of her opinions.”

Jeremy’s expression darkens as he turns away with a huff.

“Shut it.”

But you don’t miss the small blush dusting his cheeks. It’s faint, almost imperceptible, but it’s there. Smirking, you reach out and pinch his cheeks.

Jeremy flinches, jerking away from your touch. “Why the hell did you do that?!” he exclaims, standing up abruptly.

You giggle. “Because you were cute. You were blushing while thinking about your sister.”

Jeremy crosses his arms, his expression shifting to something more prideful. “Of course I care about her. I love my sister. She even says I’m her favorite person in all of Agriche.”

You laugh. “That so?”

Jeremy puffs his chest slightly, looking smug. You take another bite of your vegetables, but before you can fully chew, Jeremy suddenly leans forward and bites your cheek.

You jerk back, startled. “What was that for?!”

Jeremy smirks. “You looked like a squirrel while eating.” Laughter bubbles up from your throat, muffled slightly by the food still in your mouth. You shake your head, finishing your meal before reaching out to ruffle his hair. His golden locks become a tousled mess under your fingers. “Hey!” Jeremy whines. “I just had it done!”

You offer a teasing smile.

“I can brush it back for you if you want.”

“No way,” he grumbles, pouting slightly. He lingers for a moment, though, hesitating before he turns back to you. “You know,” he starts, rubbing his arm awkwardly, “you’re not as bad as I thought.”

You blink at him in mild surprise before grinning. “That’s quite the compliment.”

Jeremy clicks his tongue, looking away. “Whatever. Just… don’t die or anything.”

Your smile softens. “I’ll try my best.”

Without another word, he loudly announces, “I’m leaving,” and storms out, slamming the door behind him. You sit there for a moment, staring at the closed door before shaking your head with amusement.

He really is just a kid.

You finish your food in silence, letting your thoughts drift. You think back to Jeremy, the way he acts tough but is still just a 14-year-old boy who loves his sister more than anything.

Just as you let out a soft sigh, the door swings open again. This time, without a knock.

Dion.

The atmosphere shifts instantly. You look up at him, your body unconsciously tensing, knowing what he did to Fontaine. He takes slow steps into your room, closing the door behind him.

“You’re looking better,” he remarks, his tone as unreadable as ever. You keep your expression neutral, offering only a slight nod in response. Dion walks over, his sharp gaze scanning you, as if assessing your condition. Then, with a smirk tugging at his lips, he moves closer - too close. “Did Jeremy bore you?” he asks, tilting his head slightly.

You hesitate, unsure of what he wants to hear. Dion is unpredictable, dangerous in ways that are difficult to define. Your instinct tells you to tread carefully. “No, he was fine,” you say cautiously.

Dion chuckles, his voice low.

“That kid is too soft on you. I wonder how long that will last.” Dion leans down slightly, his eyes glinting with amusement. “You look better when you’re nervous,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing the edge of your jaw before trailing down to your hand.

Your breath catches, heat creeping up your neck. What is he doing?

Slowly, he takes your hand in his, running his thumb over your knuckles in a deceptively gentle motion. His touch is light, teasing, yet there’s an undeniable control behind it.

“You’re still trembling,” he notes, voice barely above a whisper. “How fragile.” You swallow hard, refusing to react, but the way his fingers trace over the back of your hand sends an unfamiliar warmth curling in your stomach. Dion smirks at your silence, then moves, sitting on the edge of your bed. “You should be careful,” he muses, still playing with your hand. “You never know who might take advantage of you.”

His words are laced with amusement, but you sense something darker beneath them. You pull your hand away, but he doesn’t let go immediately - he lingers, just for a second, before releasing you.

Then, before you can react, his hand moves swiftly, pressing against the side of your neck in a precise motion. A sudden wave of dizziness washes over you, and your vision blurs.

What-?

The last thing you see is Dion’s smirk before darkness consumes you.

TAGLIST: @evaxmisu , @00hellohello00, @welpthisisboring, @hsrvl264, @flyingpansaurus

[viistss]

Ok let's be straight here,I was thinking about Rodrick Heflley who for some reason was trying to kill Greg (again) but now Greg has his new defender "Rodrick's girlfriend",both Greg and little Jefferson were shocked that Rodrick got such a nice and pretty girl like Y/n And they even develop a crush on her and now whenever Rodrick wants to kill him, Greg calls her for help.

Warning: Fem!reader

(Please give me feedback, it is very important to improve my writing)

It all started when Greg and Rowley hoped to find something compromising to use as blackmail so he wouldn't bully them anymore.

When they entered and started to search, they noticed that there were feminine things scattered around, like a lip gloss or a pink nail polish.

So slowly joining the dots the two children looked at each other and came to the same conclusion.

"Rodrick is cheating on Y/n!"

Then the two boys looked towards the loud and quick footsteps on the stairs only to reveal a furious Rodrick himself.

"How many times have I told you not to come into my room??!"

The boys were scared but Greg decided he would face him head on, for y/n

"We discovered everything!"

Rowley looked at Greg, still scared, but he didn't back down either.

'Yeah, w-we found out!'

"Oh yeah? Whatever you guys found out, you idiots, it's going to be the last thing you ever find out because I'm going to destroy you both, starting with you, Greg."Rodrick pointed at his younger brother with the drumstick and Greg looked at Rowley who waved and ran off.

"It's over for you Rodrick, I'm going to tell y/n everything"Greg took a step back and Rodrick just laughed.

"Are you going to tell my own girlfriend? You're such an idiot, man"

Then Greg started running and Rodrick followed, an adrenaline-fueled chase with Greg trying to outrun his older brother,Meanwhile Rowley ran down the sidewalk to the house of the young y/n who lived just 10 minutes away.

Luckily y/n seemed to be leaving the house now and Rowley hurried over to her.

"Y/n!" The boy shouted breathlessly as he stopped to take a breath and the girl walked over to him.

"Rowley, what's wrong? Did something happen?"The young woman's face filled with concern.

"Rodrick...and....Greg.." It was the only thing little Jefferson could say but it was enough for y/n to understand everything.

"Oh no.." she mumbled and grabbed Rowley's hand pulling him with her to the Hefley house

The house in question was in chaos, Greg was still running from Rodrick through the kitchen.

"I have proof Rodrick, Rowley went to get Y/n and when she gets here you'll be finished" Greg was on one side of the counter and Rodrick was on the other.

"did you call Y/n??"

Greg ran into the room but was cornered against the wall.

"It was done for you Greg "

"I called and she's already on her way and she'll know everything!"

"know what?" The feminine and velvety voice that makes Rodrick's heart race and fills the room making the two brothers look at her and Greg run to hug her.

"Honey, what are you doing here?" Rodrick put down the drumstick and approached his girlfriend.

"Rowley came running to my house to tell me that you two were about to kill each other." The young woman rubbed Greg's back, who held her hand and stared at her..

"y/n you are very cool and that's why I'm going to tell you, he was stalking me because I went into his room and found proof that he was cheating on you"

"What?" They both spoke at the same time and y/n looked at Rodrick

"That's a lie from him, honey, you know I love you"

"It's true the evidence is in his room" Rowley said and y/n frowned, going up the stairs with the 3 boys right behind

Upon entering the room, the girl found the gloss and held it, analyzing the object.

"This...this is the gloss I was looking for and couldn't find, has it been here this whole time?"She raised her eyebrow and looked at her boyfriend who had his arms crossed.

"uh-huh, the man himself"

"What? It's your gloss but how? How did it get here when you don't even come to my house?"

"Of course she's coming, you idiot, but you're not there when she is."Rodrick snorted and picked up the nail polish that was furthest away.

"And why does she come when there's no one there, not even Greg or her parents?" Rowley asked

"you don't care about bowling balls"

"S-so this nail polish isn't yours, is it y/n?" Greg pointed and the woman looked at the nail polish in her boyfriend's hand.

"It's not mine.."

"You said your nail polish had run out, so I bought you a new one." Rodrick held out the nail polish with slightly red cheeks, y/n smiled and hugged him

"Did you buy this nail polish for me? You're so cute Rodrick" she kissed him on the cheek and he smiled

Meanwhile Rowley and Greg were simply transfixed by the scene.

[charliedawn]

The New Patient part 7

Freddy found Eddie in the garden, curled up on the ground with his head buried between his knees. The kid was trying to make himself small, like he could disappear if he just folded in on himself hard enough.

Freddy hesitated. He wasn’t good at this. He didn’t do comforting. But damn it, this was his kid. He took a slow step forward, his voice coming out rougher than he intended.

“Hey, kid…”

Eddie flinched but didn’t lift his head. Freddy sighed, running a hand down his face. “Look, I know this is a lot—hell, I ain’t exactly jumping for joy either—but sitting here moping ain’t gonna—”

“Shut up !”

Eddie’s head snapped up, eyes red, his face twisted in anger. “Just shut the hell up ! You think I wanted this ? You think I wanted to find out my dad is you ?!”

Freddy bristled. “Oh yeah ? You think this is a damn dream for me ? You think I wanted to find out I had a kid out there, that I—”

Eddie shot to his feet. “That you what ?! Would’ve ruined my life sooner ?! Maybe slashed me up in my sleep like you did to everyone else ?!” His voice cracked, his breathing ragged.

Freddy’s hands clenched. “Don’t,” he warned, but Eddie wasn’t stopping.

“Why the hell would I wanna be related to you ?!” Eddie yelled, his hands shaking. “You are a loser who killed KIDS ! Literal kids. What kinda asshole does that ? What kind of monster kills kids ?! Maybe those people who killed you had a good reason for it ?! Maybe you deserved it !”

Freddy moved before he even thought—his hand shot out, claws flashing—

Eddie yelped as sharp pain bloomed across his arm. He stumbled back, clutching at the fresh, bloody gash trailing down his forearm.

Freddy froze.

His stomach dropped.

“…Sh*t.”

Eddie looked down at the wound, eyes wide, stunned into silence. Freddy stared at his own hand, the claws now glistening with blood.

“Eddie—” He reached out, but Eddie flinched away violently, his breath coming out in short, panicked bursts.

Freddy’s gut twisted. He hadn’t meant to. He never meant to—

Eddie let out a broken laugh, shaking his head. “Guess I got my answer.” His voice was hollow, his expression unreadable. “Like father, like son.”

Freddy felt something crack in his chest.

“No—kid, that ain’t—”

But Eddie was already backing away, his face unreadable. Freddy stood there, his hands still outstretched, his claws still wet with his own son’s blood.

“Kid. Please. Listen to me…”

But Eddie returned inside and left Freddy outside. The nightmare demon sighed and closed his eyes before shaking his head. Damn kids…

.

.

.

3 days later:

You stood outside Eddie’s door, knocking softly. “Eddie ? It’s me.”

Silence.

You glanced at Michael, who stood beside you, arms crossed. He had tried getting in earlier, but Eddie had locked the door—even Michael wasn’t allowed in. That alone spoke volumes.

“Come on, Eddie,” you tried again, keeping your voice gentle. “I know you’re upset. Just…let me in, okay ? Or at least talk to me through the door.”

Nothing.

Michael exhaled sharply through his nose and pulled out his notebook, scribbling something before holding it up to the door like Eddie could see it.

“You’re being stupid. Open the door.”

You gave Michael a sharp look, but he just shrugged.

Still no answer.

Freddy had disappeared after what happened, and you figured he probably felt just as bad as Eddie did—if not worse. But right now, Eddie was the priority.

You pressed your forehead against the door, sighing. “I brought some new bandages for your arm,” you said, voice softer now. “At least let me patch you up ?”

More silence. Then, finally—

“…Go away.”

Your heart clenched at the broken voice you head. Michael stared at the door for a long moment before pulling his pen out again. He wrote something quickly and slid the notebook under the door.

A minute passed. Then another. You heard a faint rustling, the sound of paper moving.

Then, after what felt like forever, a soft, shaky exhale.

But the door remained locked.

Michael frowned. He had been patient. He had waited, given Eddie time, even tried reasoning with him through the door. But now, enough was enough. With a sharp inhale, Michael took a step back and slammed his full weight against the door. It shuddered, the lock giving a desperate groan before snapping completely. The door flew open, revealing the darkened room beyond.

Eddie didn’t even flinch.

He was sprawled out on his bed, eyes red-rimmed, his face turned toward the wall. The exhaustion in his expression was undeniable—he hadn’t been sleeping. Had probably been crying, too. His bandaged arm rested limply on his chest, but the rest of him seemed frozen, as if he was barely holding himself together.

You hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. “Eddie…”

Nothing.

Michael, still standing in the doorway, scribbled something in his notebook and flipped it around.

“Get up.”

Eddie didn’t move.

Michael narrowed his eyes and wrote something else, holding it up again.

“Or I’ll make you.”

That got a reaction. Eddie huffed out something that could have been a laugh—except it was empty, hollow. “Go ahead,” he muttered. “Doesn’t matter.”

Your heart twisted at that.

Michael’s expression darkened, but instead of writing anything else, he strode forward, grabbed Eddie by the wrist, and yanked him into a sitting position. Eddie tensed, startled by the sudden contact.

You quickly moved to his side. “Hey, hey, take it easy.” You placed a careful hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “No one’s here to hurt you.”

Eddie let out a slow, shaky breath, still avoiding both of your eyes. “...What do you want ?” His voice was hoarse.

You exchanged a glance with Michael before sitting on the edge of the bed. “To check on you,” you said simply. “To make sure you’re okay.”

Eddie let out a humorless chuckle, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah. I’m great. Found out my whole life’s a joke, got slashed by my dear old dad—who, by the way, is a nightmare demon—locked myself in here, and now you two are staging an intervention.” He finally turned his head toward you, his dark eyes dull with exhaustion. “So, yeah. Doing fantastic.”

Michael sat down on the bed beside him and wrote something new. He held up the notebook.

“You’re alive.”

Eddie blinked, then scoffed. “Barely.”

Michael’s expression didn’t change. He crossed out the words and wrote something else.

“You’re alive. And that’s all that matters.”

Eddie stared at the words for a long moment. His fingers twitched, gripping the bedsheets like he wanted to argue—but he didn’t. He just exhaled sharply and looked away.

You reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “We’re not going anywhere,” you said softly. “So don’t push us away.”

Eddie swallowed. His shoulders slumped, his grip loosening just slightly. For the first time since locking himself in the room, he didn’t tell you to leave. You then thought about a way to make things right between him and Freddy. That’s when you had an idea…

You smiled.

.

.

.

The session was set up in the common room, where the sunlight filtered through the large windows, casting long shadows on the worn wooden floors. You had hoped the neutral environment would help ease the tension between Freddy and Eddie, but you could already feel the unease hanging thick in the air.

Freddy sat on one of the worn couches, his legs casually stretched out in front of him, but his posture was tense—like he was trying to figure out what to make of this entire situation. Eddie, on the other hand, was sitting in a chair, his hands fidgeting in his lap, a leg bouncing nervously. His eyes never seemed to focus, flicking around the room, avoiding direct eye contact with Freddy, and the longer he stared into nothingness, the more his fingers twitched, digging into the skin of his wrist.

Freddy let out a frustrated sigh, trying to mask the confusion with his typical bravado. "Wow. So I really got a kid, huh ? I didn’t even know you existed, kid. One day I’m a sexy bachelor, next I’m hearing I’ve got a son—funny how life’s got ways to fuck you up, huh ?" He leaned forward, his tone softer now, trying to catch Eddie’s attention. “I didn’t mean for this to happen…but I didn’t know. Hell, I didn’t even want to—"

Eddie didn’t respond. He just kept pulling at the skin of his wrist, his leg bouncing harder now. The nervous energy coming off him was palpable. His breath was shallow, his body rigid, but still, he didn’t look up.

You moved to sit beside him, your voice gentle. “Eddie, you don’t have to do this right now. It’s okay.”

He didn’t look at you either. Instead, he stared at the floor as if it could swallow him whole. "No," he muttered quietly, his voice barely audible. "I…I can’t."

Freddy’s expression shifted, noticing the distress. He shifted closer, his voice becoming more concerned. “Kid, look. I don’t know what you’ve been through, but we need to talk about it, yeah ? I didn’t know. I swear. But I’m here now. We can figure this out. Whatever you need, I can help."

At this, Eddie’s hands shook harder, and he bit his lip. The pressure of trying to keep his composure cracked through his thin walls. The more Freddy spoke, the more Eddie’s grip tightened on his wrist. “You don’t know what it’s like," Eddie whispered, his voice trembling. "You don’t know...you can’t know.”

The room fell silent, save for the faint sound of Eddie’s breathing. He was numb and fought back tears. He had been the unwanted for so long, he didn’t want more trauma from his father who tells him that he never wanted him.

Freddy was quiet for a long moment, watching the boy—his son—his expression softening as the pieces of the conversation started to fit together. Finally, he spoke in a tone far gentler than before. “I don’t need to know exactly what you’ve been through, Eddie. But I can listen. That’s something. I might not be the father you wanted, but I’m here now, and I want to understand you. But you gotta let me in, kid.”

Eddie’s breath hitched, and his leg finally stilled. He didn’t look up at Freddy, but something in his posture shifted—just slightly. Eddie exhaled, long and shaky. "I don’t know if I can," he muttered. "I don’t know if I can deal with this. With you. With any of this. I’m not—"

You interrupted gently, moving closer, your hand lightly resting on Eddie’s shoulder. "You don’t have to do it all at once. We’ll take it slow."

Freddy glanced at you, silently grateful for the way you were trying to handle things. Then, he leaned back into the couch, trying to give Eddie some space. “Listen, kid, I know I’m not the greatest...but I’m here now. And I ain’t goin’ nowhere. Take yer time."

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, his hand no longer pulling at his skin, but it still clenched tightly. "I don’t know how to do this," he whispered again, as if the words were stuck in his throat.

Freddy looked at him with something like a softened compassion. “You don’t have to know how. Just start somewhere."

The silence that followed was heavy, but there was a shift—just a small one. Eddie’s breathing evened out, and though the storm in his head wasn’t over, it felt like the first step toward something else. Something he hadn’t been ready to face but was slowly being pulled into.

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

The tension in the room didn’t fully dissipate, but it softened just enough for the conversation to move forward. Eddie finally stopped fidgeting, though he still refused to look at Freddy directly. Instead, he took a slow breath and muttered, “Fine. If we’re doing this…I guess we should ask each other stuff, right ?”

Freddy smirked, leaning back against the couch. “Yeah, sure, kid. Hit me with your best shot.”

Eddie hesitated, chewing on the inside of his cheek before asking, “How…how did you die exactly ?”

Freddy raised an eyebrow, then let out a dry chuckle. “Damn, you’re not easing into this, huh ?” He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before leaning forward. “Alright, fine. Short version ? A bunch of pissed-off parents burned me alive. You ever heard of vigilante justice ? Well, they thought they were doing the world a favor by getting rid of me.”

Eddie finally looked up, eyes narrowed. “Why ?”

Freddy’s smirk faltered and he looked down. “They thought I did something bad.”

Eddie’s jaw clenched, his hands tightening in his lap. “Did you ?”

Freddy met his gaze for a long moment before saying, “Depends who you ask.” His voice was eerily calm, but there was an edge to it, something unreadable in his expression. True. He had killed those kids. But because the little shits had lied and told their loving parents that he had done things he hadn’t. And even after he had been released and proved innocent, the little shits’ parents had still set him on fire—literally. They deserved it.

Eddie didn’t press further. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know more just yet. Instead, he exhaled sharply and mumbled, “Your turn.”

Freddy tilted his head, studying him. “Alright, then. What about you ? You ever been in love ?”

Eddie blinked, caught off guard. “What kind of question is that ?”

Freddy shrugged. “Just trying to see if you take after me or not.”

Eddie scoffed. “I don’t want to take after you.”

Freddy chuckled. “Fair enough. But answer the question.”

Eddie looked away, suddenly very interested in the floor. “Once. Didn’t end well.”

Freddy didn’t push for details, just nodded. “Yeah, love’s a bitch.”

Eddie gave him a wary glance. “What about you ? You ever been in love ?”

Freddy smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Once. Didn’t end well.”

Eddie snorted despite himself. “Figures.”

Freddy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What do you remember about your mom ?”

Eddie froze, his expression shutting down instantly. He swallowed hard before mumbling, “Not much. She was gone before I was old enough to really remember her.”

Freddy frowned. “You don’t even have a picture of her ?”

Eddie shook his head. “Nope. Just…nothing. Just me and my uncle Wayne.”

Freddy was quiet for a moment before he nodded slowly. “Your uncle raised you ?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, his voice softer now. “Wayne took me in when I was a kid. He didn’t have to, but he did.”

Freddy exhaled through his nose. “Sounds like a good man.”

“He is,” Eddie said firmly.

Freddy tapped his fingers on his knee, thinking. “Guess I owe him a thank you, huh ?”

Eddie shot him a glare. “Yeah, no. You’re never meeting Wayne.”

Freddy raised his hands in surrender, grinning. “Hey, hey, fair enough. I’ll stay out of the family reunions.”

Eddie sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This is so messed up.”

Freddy chuckled. “Tell me about it.”

They sat in silence for a moment, both absorbing the weight of what they’d just learned. Then, Eddie mumbled, “You’re up. Ask something.”

Freddy thought for a second before smirking. “Alright. What’s your biggest fear ?”

Eddie scoffed. “Oh, come on.”

“No, really,” Freddy insisted. “What freaks you out the most ?”

Eddie exhaled, shaking his head. “I dunno. Losing people, I guess.”

Freddy’s smirk faded a little. “Yeah. I get that.”

Eddie looked at him. “What about you ?”

Freddy chuckled, but it was quieter this time. “Losing control.”

Eddie didn’t know what to say to that. He stared at Freddy and realised maybe…they weren’t so different. And he didn’t know how he should feel about that.

.

.

.

The afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the hospital grounds as Freddy knelt in his garden, his infamous bladed glove nowhere in sight. Instead, his hands—his real hands—were covered in dirt as he carefully tended to the vibrant flowers that had somehow thrived under his care. It was an odd sight, seeing the demon so delicately handling something so fragile.

Eddie stood at the edge of the garden, watching for a moment. He still wasn’t sure how to feel about everything. About him. About the fact that the same man who tormented countless people in their sleep had, at some point, been just a regular guy—a guy who had lived, screwed up, and unknowingly fathered a kid who would grow up without him.

Eddie sighed and rubbed the back of his neck before finally stepping forward. "Need a hand, old man ?"

Freddy glanced up, blinking in surprise. He hadn't expected Eddie to willingly approach him outside of their awkward conversations and forced interactions. But instead of making a snide remark, Freddy just smirked and jerked his chin toward a nearby bag of soil.

"Yeah, actually. Grab that bag and help me out before these beauties start wilting."

Eddie snorted but did as he was told, hoisting the bag onto his shoulder before dumping some of the soil where Freddy pointed. "Never took you for the gardening type," he muttered.

Freddy chuckled, digging his fingers into the soil. "Yeah, well. Turns out even monsters can have hobbies. Besides, these things don’t scream when you cut them."

Eddie gave him a look, and Freddy just shrugged. "Kidding. Mostly."

For a while, they worked in silence. Eddie found that he didn’t hate it. There was something oddly therapeutic about digging his hands into the earth, about helping something grow instead of destroying it.

At one point, Freddy glanced over, watching Eddie press the soil down around a sprouting flower. His smirk softened—just a little.

"You ever plant anything before, kid ?"

Eddie shook his head. "Nah. Never had a place to. Never really thought about it."

Freddy hummed. "Yeah. Me neither. Not when I was alive, anyway."

Eddie paused, glancing at him. "Why do it now ?"

Freddy was quiet for a long moment, then finally answered, "Because it’s nice to make something instead of breaking it. I was a gardener when I was alive, but I was so busy tending to other people’s gardens that I never had time to take care of one of my own. Thought I would start now that I do."

Eddie didn’t know what to say to that. Instead, he just went back to planting and they worked together silently. It was peaceful.

However, Eddie then eyed a particularly stubborn weed tangled in the roots of one of the flowers. It stuck out like an eyesore amidst the neat rows Freddy had cultivated, and something about it just bothered him. He wiped his hands on his jeans and rolled up his sleeves.

"Alright, you little bastard," he muttered under his breath, squatting down and wrapping both hands around the base of the weed.

Freddy, already moving on to another section of the garden, barely spared him a glance. "Careful, kid. Some of those are tougher than they look."

Eddie scoffed. "Pfft. Please. It’s just a weed, how hard can it be—?"

With one strong yank, the plant didn’t budge. He gritted his teeth and tried again, digging his heels into the dirt and pulling with all his strength.

Still nothing.

Now it was personal.

Growling in frustration, Eddie braced himself, putting his whole body into the next pull. He yanked—hard.

And suddenly, the weed did come loose… along with a chunk of dirt. The unexpected force sent Eddie stumbling backward, arms flailing as he completely lost his balance—and landed flat on his ass with an ungraceful thud.

For a second, there was silence.

Then—

"PFFFT—HAHAHAHA !"

Freddy practically doubled over, slapping his knee as his cackling filled the garden. He laughed so hard he had to brace himself on the ground, gasping for breath between wheezes. "Oh my God—! Kid, that was—! Pfft—You should’ve seen your face ! Pure comedy gold right there !"

Eddie groaned, flopping onto his back in defeat. "Glad I could entertain you," he grumbled, rubbing the dirt from his hands.

Freddy wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. "You looked like a cartoon character getting their ass handed to them by a dandelion !"

Eddie just lay there, staring up at the sky while holding the stupid weed in his hand. "...I hate gardening."

Freddy burst into another fit of laughter and Eddie couldn’t help but smile.

A few days later:

Eddie sat on the edge of his bed, arms crossed, clearly reluctant to leave his room. You stood in the doorway, arms on your hips, giving him the best I’m not taking no for an answer look you could muster.

“Eddie, you can’t just sit in here forever,” you said firmly. “Go out. Get some fresh air. Talk to someone that isn’t me or Michael.”

Eddie groaned, flopping backward onto the bed. “But I like sitting in here forever.”

You rolled your eyes. “Tough luck, Eddie. You’re going outside. And you are bringing your guitar with you.”

Eddie frowned at that last part.

“What ? Why ?”

“Listen to me and do not question it.” You replied with a small enigmatic smile. He grabbed his guitar and grumbled the whole way out of his room but didn’t fight you on it. As soon as he stepped outside, though, he paused. Because there, standing with his arms crossed, was Freddy—with a damn baseball in one hand and a baseball glove.

And the first thing out of Freddy’s mouth was a deadpan, “Wanna play catch, son ?”

For a split second, there was silence. Then Eddie let out the loudest, most unhinged laugh you’d heard from him since he arrived at St. Louis. He had to double over, hands on his knees, as he wheezed, “What the actual fuck ?!”

Freddy just smirked. “What ? Isn’t that what dads are supposed to do ? Toss a football around ? Bond or whatever ?”

Eddie wiped at his eyes, still laughing. “Oh my god, if you ever—ever—call me ‘son’ again, I’m jumping into the lake.”

Freddy snickered. “Better hope I don’t start calling you ‘champ’ or ‘sport,’ then.”

Eddie groaned dramatically. “Please, no !”

You just shook your head, hiding your own smile. “Well, at least you’re laughing.”

Freddy clapped Eddie on the back. “That’s the spirit, kiddo. Now, let’s go. Gotta show you something.”

Eddie sighed, but there was a small, lingering smile on his face as he followed Freddy. Maybe this whole having a dad thing wouldn’t be completely awful. As Eddie followed Freddy near the lake, his eyes widened in surprise. Sitting on the picnic table in the middle of the garden was a brightly decorated cake, complete with colorful frosting and candles. The sight of it caught him off guard, making his chest tighten a bit. He’d never expected this, not from Freddy—who was, to put it mildly, a man of action, not sentiment.

“Uh…What’s this for ?” Eddie asked, glancing back at Freddy, who was now standing awkwardly a few feet away, his hands shoved into his pockets.

Freddy cleared his throat, looking a little uncomfortable under Eddie’s gaze. “Well…I didn’t exactly know when your birthday was, kid,” he began, his tone quieter than usual. “Missed a lot of ‘em. A lot of years, actually.” He paused, his gaze dropping to the ground. “Figured it was time to make up for some of that. So, uh…Happy birthday, kid.”

Eddie blinked, stunned by the gesture. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, not sure what to say. He hadn’t gotten a birthday cake since he was a kid, and even then, it wasn’t anything like this.

Freddy shuffled his feet a little, clearly not used to this kind of emotional moment. “I know it’s not much, but I thought...maybe this is the least I can do.”

Eddie’s throat tightened as he tried to suppress the sudden wave of emotion. It felt like a weight was being lifted off his shoulders. He had no idea that Freddy—Freddy Krueger, of all people—would even think of doing something like this. But there it was, sitting on the table in front of him: a cake with his name on it.

Without thinking, Eddie took a deep breath and managed a shaky smile. “Thanks, man,” he said, his voice thick. “You…you didn’t have to do this, but this is—this is really cool.”

Freddy smiled sheepishly, clearly relieved. “I’m not great at this whole ‘dad’ thing, but I’m trying.”

Eddie let out a soft laugh, wiping his eyes quickly. “You’re doing fine…You’re doing better than I thought you would.”

“Yeah, well, we’ve both got a long way to go,” Freddy said with a chuckle. “But hey, we’ll get there. One step at a time.”

And for the first time in a long while, Eddie felt a little bit of hope—hope that, maybe, he wasn’t as alone as he’d thought. Eddie’s smile softened as he looked at the cake again, a soft chuckle slipping from his lips. “Man, this really is a surprise.” He ran a hand through his hair, still in disbelief. “But seriously, this is really awesome.”

Freddy scratched the back of his neck, clearly uneasy. “Well, Michael’s the one who actually baked the cake,” he admitted, his voice laced with a hint of embarrassment. “I’m, uh...not exactly a chef. My skills in the kitchen ? Yeah, they’re pretty much nonexistent.” He grinned sheepishly. “Couldn’t even boil water without burning it.”

Eddie laughed lightly, the tension easing a little. “Yeah, I figured you weren’t the type to bake.” He smirked. “But hey, it’s the thought that counts, right ?”

Freddy chuckled along, clearly relieved that Eddie wasn’t upset. He paused for a moment, looking at the cake, then at Eddie. “But I did bring something. A gift.” He gestured to a guitar case standing next to the picnic table.

Eddie raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "A gift, huh ?" He approached the case, running his fingers over the smooth surface, before bending down and lifting the lid. His eyes widened as he saw the beautiful red velvet inside and the whole thing was definitely prime quality stuff. It was a beautiful case, sleek and shiny with a sticker on the lid that caught his attention. The sticker was a collection of familiar faces—slashers in all their grim glory—decorated across the case. He couldn’t help but grin, recognizing each of them.

“Dude,” Eddie breathed, his fingers tracing over the stickers with a laugh. “This is, uh, one hell of a gift. You had this made, didn’t you ?” He looked at Freddy, half-surprised and half-amused.

Freddy’s smirk was a little more relaxed now. “Well...yeah. Michael and I figured you’d need a new case for your guitar after...well, you know, everything. And I figured you’d appreciate the personal touch with the stickers.” He shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal, though there was a certain pride in his voice.

Eddie’s eyes softened, his hand lingering on the case. “This is...real cool, man. Thanks.” His voice wavered slightly, the weight of the gesture hitting him harder than expected.

“Yeah, well, don’t go gettin’ all soft on me,” Freddy teased, his grin returning.

Eddie chuckled, shaking his head. “Too late, man. You’ve already softened me up with the cake and the guitar case.” He picked it up carefully, as if it were fragile, before putting his guitar inside. It fitted perfectly. He smiled and gave Freddy a playful glance. “Careful. Next thing you know, you’ll become a decent dad.”

Freddy laughed, the sound rich and full of warmth. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, kid. One miracle at a time.”

As Eddie adjusted the guitar case on his shoulder, he couldn’t help but feel a deeper sense of connection to Freddy—something unexpected but welcomed. He was still processing everything, still unsure of how this new reality fit with the life he thought he knew. But he knew Freddy was trying and well…that was already something.

He then looked at the cake.

“So hum…How are we gonna eat it ?”

Freddy seemed to realise and slapped his forehead.

“Shit ! The plates and forks ! Don’t move, kid. I’ll be RIGHT back.” Freddy ran back inside and Eddie laughed before it slowly died down. He smiled and looked at the cake and he felt tears in his eyes. It hurt. It hurt because…shit. He felt as if Freddy would have actually rocked as a dad…

He sighed.

The kinda dad he would have liked to have as a kid. He looked down at the cake and smiled sorrowfully. Yeah. He still didn’t know the whole truth about Freddy, but the fact that he was even trying proved a lot.

Once Freddy was back, Eddie blew the candles.

[alicentlander]

homelander x oc

summary: Mia gets insecure when Stormfront joins the Seven. Logically, her solution to get over it is to ride Homelander during a Seven meeting. Written for Cozy Corner Kinktober prompts role reversal + exhibitionism

(18+, riding, jealousy, exhibitionism, rare me writing bottom & sublander)

wc: 959

author’s note: a very normal couple who works out their problems in a very normal way

Mia wasn’t usually a jealous person.

She couldn’t really afford to be, not when her boyfriend was the most famous man in America. Millions of fans wanting to be with him and countless fanfictions written on Tumblr (for her own sanity, she finally had to delete that Godforsaken app after over half a decade of use).

It was unfair, in a way. Homelander could kill anyone who - in his opinion, anyways - gave her a flirtatious look (which more often than not was nothing but a friendly smile) and she would have to live with that guilt forever, but she couldn’t even glare at his fans that tried to get a little too close to him. Not that Homelander ever let her out in the public eye that much to begin with anyways - for her own safety, he had told her. She had given up trying to argue with him on that a long time ago.

But it was fine. She didn’t have to see anything unless it was on TV or something. At least at Vought nobody tried to get handsy with him.

Until Stan Edgar decided to recruit her.

Why Edgar thought recruiting Stormfront to join the Seven was a good idea, Mia would never know. She didn’t really care to know either. All she knew was that she hated the way she looked at Homelander. Like she’d devour him if given the chance.

Mia didn’t even know why she’s so insecure. Why when Stormfront was around, she leaned into Homelander’s side a bit more, ramped up the PDA between them that definitely went beyond what was allowed (but it’s not like HR would ever dare tell to Homelander that he wasn’t allowed to touch his girlfriend however he wanted whenever or wherever he wanted).

And Homelander had made it more than clear that he didn’t like Stormfront in any capacity - not even as a coworker or teammate.

When Mia had spoken with him about it and anxiously played with her ring, looking like she was unsure whether to believe him or not, Homelander had done his best to reassure her that she had nothing to worry about by fucking her from sunset to the sunrise and making her come more times than she could count.

But still, a voice inside her head argued, Stormfront’s a supe. You're just a regular, normal human woman. Nothing special. Wouldn’t it make sense for a God to want someone more on his level? You’re expendable.

Insecurities and the things she would do to overcome said insecurities are funny, in a twisted way. She could handle the kisses on the mouth, Homelander subtly grabbing her ass at some stupid Vought party they were forced to attend, and she had stopped bothering to try to hide the hickeys that Homelander littered on her neck. But she had always drawn the line when he wanted her to actually fuck somewhere in front of other people.

And yet, here she was this morning, shamelessly riding him during the typical Seven meeting. A-Train and Starlight both stared either at the table or at the wall like they wanted to be anywhere else, Maeve was more annoyed than anything, Black Noir just sat there, the Deep was thankfully away in Ohio, and Stormfront…

Stormfront tried to look unbothered, but Mia could see the way her eye twitched whenever she glanced at the two of them.

Mia greedily kissed Homelander as she moved her hips against his. Homelander kissed back with just as much desperation, only pulling back to allow Mia a breath of air, a trail of salvia connecting them. She heard A-Train mumbled a “gross”, which caused Homelander to snap at the members of the Seven to mind their own fucking business and to continue the meeting.

He gripped Mia’s hips (no doubt accidentally leaving a new set of bruises in the shape of his hand on her delicate skin) as he moaned needily.

“Fuck,” he groaned, leaning his head back against his chair. Mia wasn’t usually on top of in charge when they had sex - and she preferred it that way, truth be told - but when she was, he was so needy. All for her - just her. “Fuck!”

In the moment, Mia wasn’t sure why she ever felt insecure. Homelander had said it before - they were made for each other. Two needy, desperate individuals who just wanted to be loved. And despite everything Homelander had done, Mia never left him. She still loved him. And he loved her, the best way he could.

“Come on, babe,” she murmured in his ear, nipping it playfully, and then pulled back to look him in the eyes, “I love you.”

That did it for him.

Homelander moaned as he spilled inside her, his face buried in the crook of her neck. Mia panted, stroking his hair. She got him to thrust upwards a few more times, getting her to orgasm as well.

“...love you too…” he murmured.

Mia smiled, kissing the top of his head. She looked to the side at Stormfront who was barely concealing a glare in their direction. Mia gave her a smile far too sweet to be genuine.

Mia removed herself from her straddling position on Homelander, who whined at the absence of her warmth. She just turned herself around so she was sitting on his lap, facing the table and grabbing her tablet that had her notes she usually took during the meetings on it. Homelander wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling his cheek against hers.

“So…” she said nonchalantly, making herself comfortable in Homelander’s lap and arms, “what were we talking about?”

[the-stove-is-divorced]

YES! LOVE ranting furiously about a show. Like it pisses me off so much. I can't get enough of it. Everyone should watch.

That's such an interesting point, too, because yeah, that's the entire premise of the idea, no? At least the start? Evil Superman, with bootleg copies of agencies and Leagues and heroes, outright banking on audiences' general knowledge of these to skip out on some important groundwork, world-building wise to me, but don't really take advantage? Like why really explore Evil Superman, son of colonizers, and bootleg Justice League? Even just for comedy purposes, like why not? I haven't seen that video in a while to bring up any specifics (+ I am a diehard Batman fan than Superman) but truly!

Man, you make me wanna rewatch Justice League for those team dynamics and YEAH, stuff like Martians being shapeshifters! That's fun and so COOL! I also just plainly love their dynamics and interactions. Watching some snippets and clips myself, it tickles me how much of Batman's standoffish-ness could be used for Nolan, if they wanted to show team dynamics. I want it so bad. Off topic somewhat, but went down a youtube clip rabbithole and ended up seeing one of my favorite action sequences for animated movies, Madagasar 3's driving scene, and MAN, I wish we got like a fun fight or action scene for Invincible as well. Well aware there's a big diff of genre, general tone, but ONE TT or GoG scene that play off powers and personalities in a fun way would be everything to me. Internally sobbing I'm not an experienced storyboarder/animator to storyboard it myself.

Lazy shipping will forever be the bane of my existence, because I don't care so violently but it'll refuse to be ignored, and LIE to my face about how much these characters MUST be in horribly love, while having the audacity to be boring. Literally get this off my screen. Please go on your gift of jewelry rant by the way, I've already expressed the "get OTHER characters to lazily comment about how these two characters are LOVEBIRDS!" makes me consider abandoning humanity for the woods. JUST WRITE THEM LIKING EACH OTHER. GENUINELY. HAVE A CONNECTION. and for the love of all things entertaining, don't make it BORINGGGGG. But seriously, the fact Mark can't get a DAMN BREATHER, like is Eve a rebound like??? And the refusal to explore their potential and bond makes my ass itch. Like, ethics!!! Superheroism!! Shitty family!!! CHICAGO! Literally the fact they're not in groups like YOU said!

Just have them fly together tbh, like easy short hand of longing looks and excitement together is flying together. Showing off tricks and eventually talking or something.

Mark outright not improving drives me utterly insane. We OPEN with him improving and then nerf him immediately. Throwing my TV. TRULY I DID NOT UNDERSTAND WHY EITHER DIDN'T GO FOR THE OTHER HEROES from the START. Eve, you are an experienced hero, unlike Mark, who JUST got SOME training that's clearly strength based, not strategic. Literally just elevating the danger/situation and using characters' flaws could have been so beautiful but NOOOO. Like, have Mark struggle focusing on both protecting AND fighting, (lethal enough to kill the monster, but careful a giant monster doesn't fall on top of the trapped heros for example), or flinging a monster into the ground / getting smacked and the ceiling collapses faster. Now, Eve's gotta deal with a crumbling ceiling AND rescuing them, maybe she's even rusty working with a team! Heck, have Eve direct Mark to rescue instead of fighting, and he struggles not stepping into the fight, or gets distracted by approaching monsters?

ALSO HECK? JUST USE ANOTHER VILLAIN? You're telling me the original GoG didn't have some seriously menacing, intelligent, heavy hitting supervillains who wants to eliminate the newly weak GoG??? The one that even said they're BAD at teamwork?? How has the dismantling of the GoG not created a whole power scramble of villains trying to prove themselves by taking out the NEW GoG???

Also FOR REAL. CAN DEBBIE BE A WHOLE PERSON PLEASE? Like, how is part of the Super Hero Family Drama: The Show, and we don't even know her HOBBIES? WHO IS THIS WOMAN????? How are we on s3 and I still don't know. Utterly insane. Slow the fuck down, I don't care about some stupid mummy curse of the last episode of s2, a weird alternate Eve demanding her teenage crush to confess to her after he thought he was gonna die in a desert, or the Lizard League, but I DO care about who these characters ARE so I can feel more about the stakes!

Invincible (barely resisting to bash my head into the wall in rage) & Invincible (giggling, kicking my feet, gasping in delight) can function in the same breath istg.

That's exactly why I want Cecil as a mentor so fucking badly 'cause it's like quasi Dad/mentor would sacrifice this mf in a heartbeat, like immediately interesting. Plus the dread of a another inevitable betrayal would be chef's kiss! Plus I'm surprised he hasn't tried it like??? This mf never tried the whole "catch more honey with vinegar" approach? Mark's a kid with too much on his shoulders, he is outrageously In-Need-Of-A-Mentor-Shaped. I mean, we're dealing with Viltrumites and potential Omni-Man Junior, I'd want that kid to trust me, believe me, so I'd know if something's off. Keep your potential emotional unstable nuke closer rather than farther and far less irritable, perhaps? Attempting to slowly chip away at a oneshot as we speak tbh. But again, no GDA counselor/therapists to be snitches? Where's the paranoia, invasive plans, here?

No fr, like ???? She has unexplained beef with him and never tells Mark to avoid him, or even a classic "I told you so"???? Like, another setup and we just??? Don't do anything? You already think he's a liar??? Gimme Debbie eyeing the babysitter, trying to check for microphones/cameras more often or something. Do something with this, I BEG.

Also hitting that on the nail here, I was writing a WIP and Mark kills a guy and I'm just kinda scrambling cause on one hand Cecil doesn't want Mark TOO cool with killing he's uncontrollable, but also this is good if Cecil wants Mark to kill people. And I'm just staring at my screen like ?????? Like give me mentor Cecil so I know how he would act for fanfic, for it for me specifically.

Aso insane over the fact Mark's moment of paralleling his Dad doesn't go farther enough for me, like this is the moment for shit to go crazy and it's GOOD enough for me to feel insane but lacking enough for my insanity to triple of what could have been??? I am this close to adding another WIP of just fun what-ifs/scene rewrites for my own sanity! Like, why not have Mark slamming his fist into the ground while he's got the shriek in his ears? Slamming his head in agony just to make it stop? Or even clawing towards Cecil, on the ground, eyes burning with hatred from the pain? I would fucking love a moment of Mark trying (but still failing) to walk, crawl, move, while in pain to ADD to the scene, even if he just stumbled back down and writhed on the floor.

While I'm not too familiar with the DCU- your batfam meta posts are intiguing- so in transfering some of the broader strokes from them- I think you tackling a 'Mark isn't Nolan's biological son' fic would be fascinating. Sort of a step to the side of the 'what if Mark never got his powers' fic that sometimes pop up in the fandom

OOOOOO chewing on this currently, hm, the much a distinct flavor of exactly what you’re talking about, but the potential for more family drama depending on WHO knows. Does Mark know?? Is he waiting every day only to be crushed? Does he confused non-Debbie features with Nolan’s? I suppose I’m not the most enthusiastic about non-power AUs, but I think there’s something very fun to explore about Mark having to settle with, if he knows all his life, he will never have powers? I think the trajectory of his dreams will obviously shift, I can see him still having that distinct fatherly idolization, but perhaps embraces being useful to the GDA? Cecil’s number one intern—only intern—curtesy of nepotism, ha! There is something tickling me about Mark taking the Robin Route/Role for the Teen Team in terms of having no powers, just insane skills, BUT there’s something way more delicious about intern Mark when s1e01 happens and Mark tries snooping around to find out the truth about what happened to his Dad.

I wonder if, with Mark having a whole another father, if they’re more or less distant relationship, depending on WHEN Nolan entered Mark’s life? Like if Debbie met Nolan later for this, or just for fun, they dated once, separated (Mark being born during then), then they happened to stumble into each others lives again and Mark’s already been born, anywhere from tween to teenager so there’s a gap in how close they are. I feel like one important aspect of the whole Family Drama is how close they’re supposed to be, a functional, loving family turned upside down? So I wonder what more distance does. I wonder how Nolan copes when his family is entirely human and he can’t project onto Mark.

I love thinking about these, omg.

[raticalshoez]

i'm having hyperfixation drought so i did what i did best and created a crossover episode