#the fact that i use my pain as an excuse not to do the same amount everyone else does is fucking disgusting & disrespectful to those people

[padawan-snack-packer]

[Andor Season 2 Spoilers: Critique about Last Episode/Final Scene]

[TW: Bestie i'm gonna get heated-]

I’ll put my thoughts more clearly soon or like after a rewatch or something but I just finished Andor season 2 and I gotta get this off my chest—

The fact that Bix has Cassian’s kid.

That she left while pregnant.

That she drugged him and disappeared in the middle of the night and took the choice away from him — I hate it.

I hate what it says.

I hate that he doesn't know.

I hate that she decided he didn’t deserve to know, that she made the call for both of them, without even talking to him first.

Like I get fear, I get trauma, I get the deep need to run sometimes when it feels like staying will crush you — I really do — but this? This wasn’t running. This was silence.

This was stripping him of a future he didn’t even know he was allowed to want.

And the worst part? Vel confirms that Bix is safe. We see her. We literally see her with Bee and other rebels. She's not being hunted. She's not in danger.

She made a decision, and it wasn’t to protect him. It was to leave him.

And maybe — sure— she thought she was protecting that kid.

Maybe after everything, after the trauma, after almost being raped, after surviving a nightmare that stripped her of her voice and her body and her sense of self, maybe she just wanted one thing that wasn’t soaked in blood and grief. Maybe she looked at that baby and thought, "I have to get us out".

Maybe she wanted to break the cycle.

But the thing is… if it was about protection, truly about protection, then where was that same care for Cassian?

Because he was violated too.

Not in the same way, of course, but that is STILL shitty from her part— she drugged him. She took his consent away. She took his agency. She erased his say in something that changed his life. She made sure he wouldn’t wake up in time to argue, to stay, to choose.

And Vel saying Cassian should be the one to contact Bix? As if he’s the one who walked out? As if she didn’t vanish without a word? As if she didn’t sedate him, leave a damn message, and decide she was done with whatever they had?

I’m sorry, but what the actual fuck was that?

I have PTSD too. I understand the freeze. I understand the fear that crawls into your bones, the triggers that send you spiraling, the way survival sometimes means shutting the world out just to breathe. I know what it's like to feel broken, and I have nothing but compassion for that part of her story. Truly.

But that was still a choice. A conscious, deliberate choice. And it was a cruel one.

Mental health is an explanation, not a goddamn excuse. It can offer context. It can show us where the pain came from, how the trauma shaped the decision. But it does not absolve people from the consequences of what they do to others. You don’t get to say “I was hurting” and then act like the people you hurt don’t matter.

That’s not healing — that’s deflection.

Cassian deserved better. He deserved honesty. He deserved consent. And whatever she was going through — however broken she felt — it does not erase what she did to him.

You can love her and still admit she crossed a line.

You can empathize with her trauma and still say, this wasn’t okay AT ALL.

He would have chosen her. Over and over. Even when it broke him. He would have chosen to raise that kid, to be there. But he died not even knowing.

He's gonna die soon. Haunted. Carrying a thousand regrets, and she didn’t even give him the truth. Not really.

You cannot ask for accountability — rightly — when it comes to the horrific things that happened to her, like the attempted rape, the torture, the abuse, and then turn your eyes away when she, in turn, drugged Cassian, left him unconscious, and took his choice away from him.

You cannot demand justice for one form of violation while excusing another just because the perpetrator is someone you empathize with.

That’s not how accountability works. That’s not how healing works. That’s not how trauma works.

Her trauma is real. Her pain is valid. She deserved safety and care and every ounce of protection this galaxy failed to give her.

But so did he.

And she took that from him. She didn’t just leave — she made sure he couldn’t stop her. She made sure he had no say. That’s not protection. That’s not love. That’s not survival.

That’s control.

We don’t get to pick and choose who gets treated like a victim based on who we like more.

We don’t get to excuse one person’s trauma-induced harm while holding everyone else to a higher standard.

Because if we do — we’re not fighting for justice. We’re just picking sides.

[pleaseletmeexist]

When I say “school should be disability accessible”, I don’t just mean we need handicap rails and EAs. Kids should be able to miss a day without failing out of school. You shouldn’t be dismissed from clubs because your attendance record is “spotty” (true story). I once missed an entire week of school because of a terrible, unending migraine. I was expected to keep up with my studies despite the blinding pain that came with working on my computer. When I heard my teachers say that you couldn’t miss exams, I asked what I would have to do to be excused from them. Their response? “Either get a doctor’s note an hour before the exam or death of an immediate family member.”

I cannot express how rigid this expectation was. First of all, with my condition, I wouldn’t have enough warning about my sickness to go to the doctor and request a note. For many people, this is exceptionally difficult, especially with the current shortage of medical professionals. Next, it ignores the fact that my schedule may not line with theirs because of my medical needs. Once, I had to visit a hospital a province away (which I was on the waiting list of for over a year) on the same day as an exam. I begged my mother not to take me because I was so nervous that I would be marked as an automatic fail. I was lucky enough to make it work, but that’s only because of my spectacular support system consisting of family members and wonderful doctors.

Disabilities aren’t always about needing a bus that can accommodate wheelchairs. It’s already difficult enough for many of us to maintain school attendance without the harsh punishments involved for skipping a day. We need to be able to miss school without being punished. Only than can you claim that the school is “accessible”

[rabbithaver]

like at a certain point, i just don't do enough to justify the resources i steal from other people.

every time i eat something, all i can think about is the fact that it's wasted on me. that food would be so much better off going to literally anyone else on the face of the earth. i don't do enough to deserve to eat. i am not a good enough person.

[dianight]

Let's talk about transandrophobia. And by that I mean let me monologue about my findings browsing the tag and checking related blogs.

For context, most of my (second hand) interactions with it are from additions to the posts of transfeminists where random people antagonize them. Also from knowledge about how a certain user who helped popularize the term and gets referenced on posts about it (and other adjacent pawns) just happens to be a piledriver for callouts that just happen to target trans women. So you will excuse me for being biased and not going into this with a naive mindset.

And I will say that I've engaged with this in significantly more good faith than it deserves. My hope was that perhaps most people using the term were doing it out of ignorance and not malicious intent. I haven't really "counted" or done any actual note taking for this, it's more of a general observation that coalesced over a few days after I did all that digging so numbers are rough estimates and not accurate numbers. I checked about 50 pages on both "latest" and "top" on the tag, aswell as checking the recommended blogs.

Ignoring certain users who use the tag to highlight how absurd the mere concept of it is, since it's just mainly one woman having fun(?) cluttering (neutral) the tag and a few others mocking posts about it; we can roughly put the people who talk about transandrophobia in 3 groups. There is potential for overlap and I reiterate, my good faith is going to skew this toward a more positive vision than reality.

The first group are mostly trans men and a few trans women who would define transandrophobia as transphobia targeted at trans men, which is not at all what the term means nor what its history or actual use is. This group was around 30-40% of the posts, but one has to keep in mind that this was from going over the posts with the tag on their blogs. Posts that would talk about their experiences being the targets of transphobia and calling it transandrophobia.

Not to sound condescending, but getting treated differently to your cis peers (before coming out OR even knowing you are trans), pushback against your transition and toward the closet, bureaucratic hurdles and general hostility to being "the other" is not a transmasc exclusive thing and it's in fact "just" transphobia. Even the supposedly unique to trans men experience of having issues with reproductive health... also happens to trans women, it's the general transphobia of medical professionals. It manifests in different ways, that's it.

Most of the transmascs on this group seem to be under the impression that transandrophobia is an analogous term to transmisogyny that simply describes the targeted transphobia to transmascs and transfems respectively. I understand their posts and it was painful to read many of them, but ultimately what they describe is called transphobia. Most of the (few) transfems on this group were making additions in defense/support of trans men on those same previous posts.

That's as good as it gets though. I really hope the 30-40% estimate is real because the alternative is grim, and as a disclaimer I have (over time) blocked a massive amount of those users who go on posts about transmisogyny to start fights. Those hostile users are very likely to use the tag and be part of the second or third groups, which means that accounting for all the people I've blocked the first group percentage is likely to be <30%.

The second group are cryptoterfs. Or alternatively, people with ideas so bioessentialist that they are indistinguishable from cryptoterfs. I have found only two blogs that were openly "gc" and straight up interacting with open terfs, but many of them had their rethoric and semirelated posts all over and sometimes even the recommended blogs would give it away. Possibly 10% of the tag users belong to this group.

The main giveaway beyond the previous ones seems to be a really transphobic view that what trans men experience as transphobia is really just misogyny. So when they experience that misogyny as trans men it's called transandrophobia. Don't ask me what logic this is, but I've seen it repeated on their blogs so whatever is going on in their brains they seem to commonly agree that trans men are "just" experiencing misogyny. The obvious implication always, always being that trans men are women, a very transphobic idea.

There were some users who are part of the previously mentioned overlap. They will have some posts that tangentially allude at that trans men = women idea but never quite reblog or interact or expand those transphobic views. But they would also be part of the third group.

The third group are transmisogynists. No other way to put it. And I don't mean it in the casual way, we are all kind of transmisogynistic due to society and that's it; I mean it in the openly in opposition to transfeminists and actively spreading hateful and harmful rethoric kind of way. More than half the users of the tag are part of this group.

It's a key difference but a very telling one; where the first group talked about their experiences and how they are affected by transphobia (incorrectly labeling it) the third group engages in reactionary behaviors, always blaming/harassing/critizicing transfeminists posts. It's a genuinely weird feeling to see a post you agree with, along the lines of "men benefit from patriachy" and the "critique" from these users being "how dare these [insert misgendering term] insinuate that trans men are oppressing them".

Reading anything in bad faith, calls for "unity" while at the same reblogging from and interacting with known callout spearheads, honestly shocking hostility to trans women all over their posts and a general very open opposition to any transfeminist theory. Like I was genuinely speechless at some of the posts.

Literally calling random trans women transphobic. Screenshots without context to make it seem like the OP is saying the literal opposite of what she was saying. Congratulatory posts about getting people banned. Straight up callouts.

And I was hoping that the first group would be the majority, with a few bad apples and the expected bad actors.

My conclusion is very simple. Stop using the term transandrophobia. It has no good faith uses, what trans men experience is transphobia since misandry is not a real structural force and misogyny is. Most of its users are hostile to and a danger to trans women in this website, and somehow terf rethoric is generally accepted by them.

Transandrophobia doesn't exist.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Demon x Gloomy! Reader

As much as you'd like to spend the rest of your life secluded away from the world, you need money. Conveniently enough, a new detective agency in town is hiring, and the salary is ridiculously good. The catch? Oh, you'll see once you sign the contract right...here. Congratulations! You've sealed a lifetime bond with their one and only employee, a demon from the depths of Hell!

Content: female reader, monster romance, dark humor, perverted goat demon yandere, based on ‘Yondemasuyo, Azazel-San’

[Part 2] [Monster masterlist]

There’s still enough time to go back, you think. It’s loud and crowded and you’d rather be home. The temptation is beginning to creep its tendrils over your mind, so you quickly pull out your phone and check your bank account. The numbers remind you why you’re here in the first place: if you don’t get a job soon, you’ll run out of savings.

Come on, it can’t be that bad. In fact, it’s the best offer you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Minimal interaction with humans, short hours, and absurdly good pay. A new detective agency opened in your town and they’re looking for an assistant. A regular person would most likely be put off by such shady circumstances. There must be a catch, but you couldn’t care less either way. What are they going to do, kill you? Sell your organs on the black market? They’d spare you the time to plan your own demise.

You climb the stairs and knock on the door. A deep voice tells you to enter, and you sheepishly make your entrance. The office is rather small and somewhat cramped, with stacks of papers scattered over the floor. Behind the desk sits a man – maybe in his thirties? – with messy black hair, sunken eyes, and an irked expression. Is this the detective? He looks like an angry thug. Not that you’re one to judge, given your overall gloomy aura that deters passersby with ease.

“Yes?” he asks curtly, not even looking up from his book.

“I’m here for the job offer. The assistant role?”

“Ah, yeah. Completely forgot about that.” He rummages through his drawer and pulls out a sheet of paper, slapping it on the desk. “Here’s the details. Same as in the ad. Here’s where you sign. Do you have questions?”

“Hmm, I guess not.” You hum, indifferent, and scribble your name.

The man finally glances at you, faint intrigue on his face.

“This went unexpectedly smoothly. What if it was a scam?”

“Then what?” You stare him in the eye with a flaccid smile. “There’s nothing to take from me. If it is a scam indeed, you’ll be the one disappointed in the end.”

His eyes narrow in an eerie grin, and he stands up.

“Perfect match.”

“Excuse me?”

He walks towards a secondary room and waits for you to follow him. Once you’ve joined, he turns on the lights, and you immediately notice a strange seal painted on the floor: Geometric symbols resembling a pentagram, surrounded by words in a language you don’t understand. You’re carefully observing the strange sight, so entranced that you don’t sense the detective lifting your hand and casually piercing your finger with a small scalpel.

Before you can react to the sudden attack, he presses your hand onto the contract you’d signed earlier. You wince in pain and swiftly pull your hand away, glaring at the man.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you demand angrily.

“I thought I’d already introduce you to the main tool we use to solve our cases.”

The sigil on the ground begins to glow and the edges move in a circular motion. A black ooze erupts from the center, rapidly expanding outwards. You glue yourself to the wall for safety, unsure of what is happening.

A clawed hand emerges from the cursed muck, grabbing onto the edges for support. Within seconds, a creature crawls its way out. A humanoid figure with curled horns and long locks, its body ending with goat hooves instead of legs, stands up and stretches before your terrified self. You tighten your jaw in anticipation.

“You always summon me during my best naps, damn it!” the demon barks.

The detective approaches the monster, completely unconcerned, and slaps its horns nonchalantly, earning a groan from the demon.

“Skip the unnecessary whining. This is our new assistant and your owner as of now.” He explains, dangling the contract before the horned creature and pointing a finger in your direction.

“The fuck? You said you’d end the deal if I completed that mission. You lied to me, you-!” the beast finally notices your presence and abruptly stops. “Well then, what do we have here?”

A wide, perverted smile replaces his frown, sharp fangs glistening with malice.

“Aren’t you a miserable one! You reek of apathy”, the demon exclaims, clacking his hooves in your direction. “Boy oh boy, I could just eat you up! Tell me your name.”

You open your mouth, but no sound comes out. You wonder if this is some bizarre dream after all. The demon clamps your lips back shut.

“Tempting offer, but I don’t need head right now. Save the gesture for later, alright? Let’s try again: Name!”

Your brows furrow in disbelief at his crass insolence.

“I-it’s (Y/N).” you finally manage to blurt out.

He strokes your head lovingly, as if he’s praising some house pet.

“Good girl. You can call me Zzy.”

For a moment, you completely forgot about the detective being in the same room. He places the demon under a firm hold and shoves him away from you, then hands you a thick, leathered book.

“This is his grimoire. Read it once you’re home. First day is tomorrow unless you need more time.”

“Tomorrow is fine”, you answer in a daze, fumbling to find the exit and ignoring the horned monster waving at you enthusiastically.

You’re lying in bed, still a little shaken from the events you witnessed earlier today. A detective agency that uses a demon to solve matters, and you’ve just been coerced into selling your soul for a lifetime bond with him. You sigh in exhaustion. At least the pay is good, you tell yourself as you trace your fingers over the old text of the grimoire:

“Great President of Hell, ruling three legions of demons. Brings insanity or great sorrow to any person the conjurer wishes. Feeds on sadness and fear. Causes people to end their life.”

Hard to believe that depraved buffoon holds such power. Although it does explain, at least, why the detective was eager to use you as a replacement. Or why the demon showed such intense interest.

“Who’s a buffoon?”

The voice is so close that you feel its hot breath on your ear. You scream and jump back in panic, tumbling out of the bed and scrambling onto the floor. You rub your eyes just to make sure: the half-goat creature is lounging under your sheets, gazing at you with a bored expression.

“Christ! I thought you’re not allowed to leave the office?” you inquire, baffled.

“That’s why I snuck this in your pocket!” he says as he procures a small coin. “I can track down cursed items. Hehe~”

As if remembering a vital detail, he throws himself up and joins you on the ground:

“Oh, but don’t tell Mr. Detective about it, or he’ll feed me to the dogs. It’s our secret.” he pleads, hands put together in a praying gesture.

“What are you even doing here?”

“I figured it’d be useful if we got to know each other as soon as possible, seeing as we’ll be working together from now on.”

“And it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“Well…I also got really horny thinking of you and decided to just visit instead. How about a quick fuck?”

“Absolutely not. Eat a raw potato or something.”

“Don’t be like that! At least let me touch your boobs. Help a partner out, eh?”

Perhaps being scammed was not the worst-case scenario. You slap the demon’s groping fingers away and return to your previous spot in bed. It will be a long night.

[fastcardotmp3]

600 words; post 8x17; they're back in the same house as if it's my fault....

Pepa has gone home and the dishes are done and Eddie is in the shower and Buck is alone with Christopher for the first time in a year and all he can think about is Eddie on the verge of cracking as he lamented the fact that his son has lost yet another person he loves when he's barely a teenager and--

"I'm sorry. That I didn't check in on you properly."

"You checked in," Christopher screws up his face, the same old way he always has when Buck says something he can't register as true.

"Not-- enough," Buck clears his throat. This kid takes up more space on the couch than he used to. Is this couch smaller than the blue one shipped off to Texas? Has Chris gotten that much bigger? "I'm sorry. I know you loved Bobby just as much as the rest of us, and there's no excuse I-- I promised I'd always be there for-- you."

Christopher looks at him. Christopher looks at him and there is a painful amount of Eddie in that gaze, the way it studies, the way it surveys a person and logs-- logs, just-- Buck doesn't even know what, but he knows when Eddie does it, he always finds himself devastatingly seen on the other end.

And Christopher is doing it. Looking at him like that. Surveying.

"It's okay, Buck," he says, like a little boy overlooking a drawn-back sea. "I get it."

"You get...?" It's Buck's turn to be confused, trying his damnedest to control the stinging at the backs of his eyes as he meets Christopher's gaze.

"I loved Bobby a lot," Chris explains deftly. "He was-- really important. To Dad and me. And he, um, helped us a lot. I remember he brought so much food to Mom's funeral that we had to give some to--"

"You gave some to me, yeah," Buck laughs wetly and lowly and Chris smiles this melancholy little quirk of the lips.

"Yeah," he agrees. "And the more I, like, look at it all? It's super obvious how much he did for us even though I didn't always get it when I was little. But it's still different."

"Different from what?"

"Different from you and Bobby," Chris shrugs. "He was family to me, but it's like. Like, for you it's different. For you it's like if I lost you, y'know?"

Y'know. Said so casually and so certainly.

Like if I lost you.

Like if I lost you, he says, in comparison to the man Buck took into his heart as a stable and consistent presence. A man to look up to, to emulate, to steal little bits and pieces from until Buck himself felt whole.

Like if I lost you, Christopher says, and Buck doesn't have any words to respond to that, only a swelling of feeling he's been holding so tightly against his chest that he couldn't even move when Eddie got up in his face less than twenty-four hours ago.

Buck couldn't move when Eddie told him about the night he spent grappling with it all alone in the dark, couldn't create follow-through from the desire in his heart to reach out and grab on, because his hands were numb and stagnant and stuck.

Now, something knocks loose.

Buck tips forward.

He drags Christopher into his arms and tucks his head under his chin and holds on tight through Christopher's quiet little laugh of surprise at the expression.

His voice is rough when he knocks that loose too.

"God, I missed you, kid."

And as a door clicks open down the hall, as steam chases damp hair and a curious, bright-eyed man into the archway overlooking the scene on the couch, mouthing okay? to Buck's quiet nod of acknowledgment, Christopher embraces him back.

"Missed you too, Buck."

[asxgard]

I absolutely loved your In the Wreckage, but I can’t help but wonder what your thoughts about roles being switched and it were Robby instead of Jack. Logically, I know they’re different people who’d be in the same situation, but I wonder what his reaction would be. (Like I’m thinking they hooked up a couple times after PittFest, and Robby completely dismisses her after he starts to catch feelings.)

This doesn’t have to be a fic (unless you want to do one…), but I’d love to just catch your thoughts on the subject.

Thank you!! So in the wreckage actually inspired a short multi I’m planning for Robby! Currently planning on calling it casual, based on my current vague outline lol.

My thoughts are:

A Fresh Start | one shot

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!nurse!reader

[ Masterlist ]

Note: I intended for this to be a quick drabble lol whoops

Word Count: 1.3k

Most of my works are 18+ due to adult language and content.

Warnings: afab!reader, ex-situationship, implied age gap, foul language, hurt/comfort, mild references to smut, unplanned/surprise pregnancy, not telling robby about said pregnancy (reader being in the wrong oof), single mom!reader, hospital settings, medical inaccuracies, mild injury to a friend, angst with a happy ending, fluff

not beta read

You had not intended to show up in the ER of your previous employer, but there you sat in the waiting room while your friend was escorted into the back. Beth had tripped and taken a nasty fall while you two were out to lunch, ripping a gash open on her arm.

Your toddler fussed in your lap, having been dropped off by your babysitter who had been unable to stay home with him. You thought about leaving briefly, if it hadn’t been for the fact that you had used your friend's car to get you both to the Pitt. You resigned yourself to wait a bit longer.

McKay’s friendly face greeted you when she called for the family or friends of Beth’s. You stood to greet her with a small smile. You hushed your son while he gurgled, grasping onto the necklace that hung low on your neck.

“Hi, Cassie, how are you?”

She smiled warmly, “I’ve been okay. It’s been forever! I didn’t know you had a son.”

Your eyes moved to your son and you smiled, “Relatively new thing, he’s about to be ten months old.”

“Well, congrats.”

Beth sat on the edge of her bed, hand stitched up. She was waiting for discharge paperwork.

Your luck seemed to sour as Robby walked by, catching sight of you and stopping short. You had left quite some time ago, crushed under the pressure of a situationship that didn’t seem to be going anywhere. Robby had buried his feelings in the warmth of you and you had tried to believe it was enough.

His eyes settled on the child in your lap, then back to you. Shame flushed through your system.

You had never told Robby you had gotten pregnant after you had fled. Part of you was hurt that it never really worked out, ashamed you hadn’t been more careful, and overall panicked when the test results had come back positive. After Pittfest, Robby seemed in no place to truly care for himself, let alone a baby.

So you kept it to yourself.

One glance at his son, and it was like he knew. Those brown eyes could only be his.

You set your son onto the gurney next to your friend, whispering a quick, “Gotta go to the bathroom!” before rushing to meet Robby in the hall. You held each other’s gaze for a long moment.

“Please tell me that’s not—that you didn’t—“

“Robby, let me explain.”

His wide eyes met yours, mixed with a terrible panic and a painful, reserved sadness. He grabbed your arm and pulled you into an empty room a few paces from where Beth’s had been.

“Is he mine?”

You swallowed, “Yes.”

His face scrunched up like you had slapped him.

“Robby, I was leaving this job anyways. You were—fuck—you were bad. I couldn’t throw a baby into that mix with you.” You said in a whisper, then almost as an excuse, “It wasn’t like we were serious.”

He winced, “Don’t you think that was my decision to make?”

You clenched your teeth and tried to swallow your tears.

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

Guilt stewed in your stomach, and your face scrunched up as you began to cry.

“I—I don’t know.” You were able to get out. “I kept putting it off…and then the longer I did, the harder it became.”

He stepped away from you, running a hand down his face, blinking away his own tears. He took a few deep breaths before looking back at you.

“I’m so sorry, Michael.” You told him, taking a hesitant step forward. “I didn’t really think about how my decision might make you feel, and I’m really sorry. I clearly made the wrong choice.”

“What’s his name?”

“Matthew.”

“Matthew.” He repeated, like he was testing it on his tongue. “I—I—”

“Do you want to come by after your shift? Meet him properly?”

“Yes, please.”

—

Robby’s anger came in bursts, flared whenever you referenced something from before he had known, like he was always ready to accuse you of the time he lost out on. You could hardly blame him, though you still felt like your choice to leave him had merit.

When you learned he was now in therapy, your own doubts began to quiet. Perhaps he would be able to do it and not run away, or be emotionally distant from your son.

“I can’t really change the past, Robby. I would if I could. I fucked up, I know that.” You said, trying not to yell.

Matthew was sitting in the other room, on his playmat, completely unaware of the tension that sat between his parents. You needed to keep it that way.

“I can’t ever get that time back.” He said, tone hard.

You frowned, “I know that.”

Silence echoed between you, stiff and uncertain. Guilt clawed up your throat.

“Maybe he could stay with you this weekend.” You offered lightly, hoping you might bridge the gap.

There was no official arrangement between you as Robby steadily got to know his son, not wanting to force anything, or rush a bond. However, Robby began paying for the daycare without asking, and turned his guest room into a bedroom fit to Matthew’s needs.

He blinked at you while he processed your words, “Really?”

You nodded, though tears burned the back of your eyes. “He needs to get used to this place being his home, too.”

Robby was stepping forward to hug you before you even registered that he had stepped toward you. Despite the fact that he could be a very physical lover, he rarely was physically affectionate with you outside of the bedroom back when you had been sleeping together before Matthew had been born.

So the arms wrapped around you spoke volumes of his gratitude.

—

It was roughly half a year later that Michael had completely softened, and told you he forgave you. You had been lingering more often at drop offs, and Michael found any reason to stop by your apartment. It felt like something was beginning to spark at a fire that had grown cold.

Though, in his wandering gazes and lingering touches, you realized the embers had always been there. They had never gone anywhere, just simply slipped into hibernation.

It felt easier to fluster around him, skin growing hot while your heart raced. Or how an overwhelming warm feeling will fill your chest at the sight of Michael with his son, playing or reading to him, quietly always there whenever he needed him. You blinked away tears.

“I was thinking I could take Matty to the zoo,” Michael said one night when you had come to pick him up.

“Oh? Okay.” You said, deliberating it, “What day were you thinking? I don’t mind giving you this Saturday—”

“I was actually hoping we might go together?”

“Together?” You stared at him. “As in like…”

“Like a family.” He said, like he was skirting around something else.

“I’d like that.” was out of your mouth before you even thought about it.

He smiled at you, wide and warm.

Michael had picked Matty out of the stroller not long after you had gotten to Pittsburgh Zoo & Aquarium. Matty was eagerly pointing at the elephants, grinning ear-to-ear, an expression that matched his father’s face. It warmed your heart.

You stepped into pace with Michael, looking at the animals with mild interest, more focused on engaging with your son, pointing and clapping with him.

For the first time, the quiet felt comfortable. Michael’s hand found yours and he intertwined your fingers.

Your breath caught and you looked over at him.

“This is what I want.” He told you, squeezing your hand. “This is how I want to move forward.”

An easy smile overtook your features, “Together?”

“As a family.”

It was a fresh start and you weren’t going to waste it.

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Dr. Robby taglist: @cherriready @seeyalaterinnovator @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @bxxbxy @18lkpeters @flyinglama @hagarsays @mayabbot @anakingreys @happyfox43 @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @sarah-the-bird-nerd @girl-obsessed-with-things @laurenkate79 @woodxtock @rosie-posie08 @artsymaddie @partofthelouniverse @diasnohibng

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All content taglist: @nixandtonic

[popcornpoppypop]

Butterfly

A/N: Well, The Pitt dragged my depressed ass back into fanfic writing and this weird, depressed, little guy has wedged himself into my brain and will not leave. Be gentle, it's been a while! I have a few stories with this OC, kind of a series but not really. Enjoy!

Summary: Callie is vet tech with a silly sense of humor. Jack Abbot was immediately obsessed. When she lands herself in The Pitt from a work injury, Jack falls apart.

Warnings: Blood, medical inaccuracies, mentions of death, facial trauma

Word Count: 3,295 (it took me and ran)

It was one of those moments  where everything had to line up perfectly to happen. The butterfly effect some call it. If Callie had stayed home like she wanted to that rainy Tuesday afternoon, she wouldn’t have gone to work and she wouldn’t have had to deal with the aggressive chihuahua and she wouldn’t have gotten bit and she wouldn’t have had to go to the ER and she wouldn’t have met Dr. Jack Abbot and she wouldn’t have flirted her ass off until his face turned beet red and they wouldn’t have gone out for coffee and they wouldn’t have slowly and completely fallen in love. She thinks about it a lot.

“So, what bit you?” Dr. Abbot asks as he pulls his gloves on with a snap.

“The most feared creature in all of veterinary medicine.” Callie sighed, mocking terror.

“What? A rottweiler? German Shepherd?” Jack looked at her with a flat expression.

“Chihuahua. Vicious little fuckers.” Callie snorted. Jack stared at her for a long beat before a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, one he was clearly trying to subdue.

“Never understood why anyone wanted one of those rats in their house anyway.” He said as he pulled the overhead light into position to examine the wound on her forearm.

“Sometimes they can be cute. But it is few and far between, at least when I see them.” Callie winced as Jack prodded at the wound.

“Well, he got you good. We’ll clean the wound out and give you some pain management, antibiotics. Can’t close it though. Dogs mouths are nasty things.”

“Like yours is better?”

“Excuse me?”

“It was a joke. I’m joking. You should give it a try.” Callie winked.  Jack stared again, almost frozen with what to do. He was not unfamiliar with being flirted with at work. Hell, Myrna said some pretty vulgar shit most days. This woman, she was something else. He couldn’t quite figure out why, besides the fact that she was stunning. But pretty people rarely interest him. 

“I, uh, will be back. With antiseptic.” He gave a curt nod, rolled his chair back so hard it flew into the wall when he stood up. He closed the curtain and stomped over to the nurses station.

“Dana you got a nurse free to clean out the wound in 7?”

“They are all taken for the next twenty-ish minutes, can send them that way when I have one.” She said, her readers falling down her nose. Jack fidgeted for a moment before growling as he ran his hands through his hair.

“What’s up your ass? They being that bad?” Dana smirked.

“No. No, that woman is just the kind of person to throw me off.”

“She was very pretty. Nice, too. But you’ve had prettier patients.” Dana looked him up and down, hands on her hips.

“No. No, I haven’t. She’s fucking silly.” Jack groaned, his frustration making his face flush.

“Silly? That’s what does it for you?” Dana didn’t try to hide the laugh.

“Fuck yeah it does. I’ll go clean it. If I’m not out in fifteen minutes, send someone to rescue me.” He grabbed supplies and headed back to bed 7.

“No use, you’re already a goner!” Dana shouted, shaking her head.

Two years later, Callie was still making terrible jokes to make Jack laugh. Others would try to get him to laugh, telling the same jokes, but he wouldn’t flinch. They were only funny when she said them.

They would talk medicine with each other often, Jack was fascinated with the difference between Veterinary medicine and human medicine. Intrigued by the creativity of it. Callie was in awe of how fast emergency medical staff had to think and move, like a well-oiled machine.

Callie was a good technician. She had been doing the job in various forms since she was out of high school. She was efficient and quick. Most days she was quick. Most days she could read a dog or cat like a book. Knew when they were going to bite before they did. Today, she was not so quick. Today her reading was off. She was tired and she thought the cute golden retriever was nice and calm and would be fine to get subcutaneous fluids on her own. The needle went in and the dog turned and took a bite at her face. She fell backwards, the dog was pulled off by her coworker. She felt the warm blood trickling down her neck.

She was confused for a moment, there wasn’t pain. She felt fine, but when she put her hand on her cheek she felt the flesh missing and the blood, she saw the blood. But the pain wasn’t there. It made her panic. Did something happen to her brain? Next thing she knew, paramedics were in front of her asking questions.

“Just get her in the rig before she bleeds out!” one of her coworkers yelled.

“I want to go to Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. My boyfriend works there, please.” Was the last thing she said before she was overwhelmed and passed out.

“We got a trauma coming in, ETA 7 minutes.” Dana called out.

“I swear, I’m never switching shifts with Collins again.” Jack groaned as he grabbed gloves from the wall dispenser.

“She is hard to say no to.” Robby laughed.

“What’s coming?” Langdon asked, practically drooling.

“Uh, looks like a dog bite to the face, female, mid-thirties.” She said looking up to meet Jack’s eyes.

“It’s not her. They would have called you, it’s not her.” Robby patted Jack’s shoulder, it didn’t stop the ice from flowing through his veins.

“Damn, that sucks. That’s why I tell my kids to keep their face away from the dog. You never know. The way some people just act like dogs are stuffed animals is crazy! Maybe she’ll learn her lesson.” Langdon prattled on.

“Shut the fuck up.” Jack growled. Langdon went white and took a few steps back. The paramedics came bursting in with their patient; blood covered the gurney.

“Female, mid-thirties, vet tech was performing treatments on a patient when it attacked. Bite to the face and neck, took some of her cheek with her. She lost consciousness not long after we got there. She requested to come here. Said her boyfriend works here.” The medic said. As Callie’s face came into his view, Jack felt his knees try and buckle.

“Fuck.” Was all he could get out.

“Jack you sit this out. We got her.” Robby pushed him out of the way as he and Langdon brought her into the trauma bay. Jack followed but stopped outside the door.

“Jack! Jack, oh my god! I’m so sorry!” Liz, one of Callie’s coworkers came running up and throwing her arms around him.

“I tried to call you and warn you, my phone wouldn’t get reception in the rig. They wouldn’t radio to let you know, they were kind of pricks honestly.” She rambled.

“Liz what the fuck happened?” Jack asked, his voice strained.

“we were so damn busy today, someone called out and corporate has us on quotas and if the clinic doesn’t make them it’s a whole thing. Anyway, she thought this dog was fine to give subq fluids to alone, she does it all the time. She was off today, kept saying she was tired. He just spun around and got her in the face. God, her cheek was on the floor. Her fucking cheek!” Liz said through tears. Jack put his hands on her shoulders to steady her.

“It’s okay, Liz. You got her here that’s what’s important. Dana? Can you put Liz in the family room? I’ll come by when I have information.” He promised as Dana walked her away.

She was so still as they worked on her. Her face, oozing blood onto the floor, it was thick as it had mixed with her saliva. He could see some of her teeth exposed through the wound. The tear at her neck was less extreme but too close to her carotid for his comfort. He wasn’t paying any attention to what they were saying or really what they were doing.

“You know they have her.” Dana put a hand on his shoulder.

“Wouldn’t let anyone but Robby touch her. Robby and Princess.” He sniffed.

“She’s a tough girl.”

“She’s going to need reconstructive surgery.”

“She’s going to be okay.” Dana squeezed his arm. He stood, still as stone, his expression the same.

Robby came walking out, throwing his gloves in the trash.

“She’s stable, she lost a lot of blood, we gave about two units. Surgery is taking her from here. But she’s going to be okay, Jack.”

“Who’s on surgery today?” Jack didn’t dare take his eyes off Callie.

“Walsh is on trauma. Craig is on for plastics. I made sure they were bringing him in.”

“She was tired today. Liz said she kept saying she was tired.” Jack’s monotone voice made Dana wince.

“This was a freak thing. She didn’t cause anything.” Robby said.

“She was slow because she was tired because I asked her to stay up late with me. There was a stupid eclipse last night. Didn’t get to totality until 2am. She’s here because of me.” There was a slight quiver to his voice.

“No, Jack, don’t do that.” Dana grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to face her. They both know that he’s let her.

“As if she couldn’t look at the stupid fucking moon any other night.”

“Hey! This was not your fault. If it’s anyone’s it’s those damn corporations working them to the bone for fucking quotas! Hell, this is barely the dog's fault!” Dana said, trying to keep Jack’s feet on the ground.

Jack nodded, wanting to stop the talking. He wasn’t going to be convinced this wasn’t his fault.

When Callie was brought out of surgery, her face was bandaged with gauze. It had already started to swell and turn five different shades of purple and blue.  Jack felt a stab to the gut when he saw her. He could only imagine what the pain was like.

It was during the early hours of the next morning when she started to stir. Jack was sleeping in the most uncomfortable chair in the hospital, his hand firmly in hers. She groaned as she tried to open her eyes. Jack felt the slight movement of her hand and was immediately awake.

“Callie? Honey?” He smoothed the hair from her forehead.

“Jack?” She croaked.

“Hey, how are you feeling? How’s the pain?” He asked, searching her eyes for the truth, knowing she would say it wasn’t bad to spare anyone from going out of their way for her.

“It fucking hurts. My face is mincemeat.” She sighed. Jack nodded, hitting the call button and demanding she get more pain relief.

“I’m sorry, love. I shouldn’t have made you stay up late. It wasn’t worth it.” He looked at the ground, ashamed.

“Hey, no. It wasn’t you. It wasn’t anyone. Just one of those things. I don’t regret it.” She tried her best to smile.

“I fucking do.”

“Naw. I got to see an eclipse, I got to see you being a big space nerd.” She squeezed his hand.

“I’m not a nerd.”

“Huge. Huge nerd. I like seeing you like that. Like…it’s what you were like before everything. A little glimpse at ‘Past Jack’. I love this Jack, but you keep that part locked up. I don’t need to question it, I understand. It’s nice when I get to see the whole picture. Besides, corporate is going to be giving me a big check when I blame this on them.” Callie huffed a laugh. Jack nodded looking at the ground, knowing her efforts to assuage his guilt were futile.

“They said it’ll be a few days until you can come home. They got you on some intense IV antibiotics.” He changed the subject away from himself.

“How bad is it?” Callie asked, her voice small. Jack hated it. She was never small. She was big and boisterous and loud and funny and all the things he wasn’t.

“They were able to graft the skin and close the wound.” Jack cleared his throat, he knew what she was really asking.

“Jack…what do I look like?” Her voice wavered.

“I honestly haven’t seen it fully since surgery. What I can see now, you’re swollen and bruised but still you.” He traced little anxious patterns on her hand.

“I want to see.” Callie straightened herself upright.

“I think you have a dressing change soon. But, usually we don’t recommend seeing this kind of thing until it’s more healed.”

“I want to see my face.” The tears were starting to sting her eyes as she fought them.

“Okay. Give me a second.” He grumbled as he got up and went to the nurse’s station.

“What can I do for you Dr.Abbot?” one of them asked, smile plastered on her face that didn’t quite meet her eyes.

“I know she doesn’t have a dressing change for a little bit, but she wants to see it.” He fiddled with a pen on the desk.

“Oh. Um, I can do the change in a bit, but we don’t let them see the damage for at least two days. It’s better once the swelling goes down.”

“I know that. I do. But, she’s set her mind.” “Dr. Abbot, it’s direct medical orders from Dr. Craig that she not see herself for two days, I can’t go against that.”

“Then get him on the phone!” Jack barked, startling the nurses.

“Jack?” Robby called from the end of the hallway, gift basket in hand, “hey man, let’s take a walk.” He pulled him down the hall.

“I’m not being stubborn. She wants to see, I told her why they don’t want to let her, she wants it. I’m going to get her what she wants!” Jack rubbed his hands down his face.

“I know you’re feeling guilty about this, but man, you know how these things go. You can’t be going above doctors heads.”

“Robby, she is going to have scars on her face for the rest of her life because of me. Everyone keeps saying it’s just a random turn of events. It’s bullshit you all are trying to get me to swallow, even her. If we had just gone to bed when we were supposed to none of this would have happened.” His voice was thick with emotion.

“if they had staffed them properly, if they didn’t have outrageous quotas to meet, if they had better equipment, better management none of this would have happened. It doesn’t always come back to you. Even if she had been wide awake and full of caffeine this still would have happened because of all the other shit.” Robby stopped at the end of the hallway.

“She said she’s going to make corporate pay.” Jack sighed.

“as she should.” Robby chuckled. “Look, you need to get your shit together right now. She is going to need you now more than ever. Her whole identity is going to be different. She isn’t going to feel like herself and she is probably going to feel like her appearance is going to drive you away. Show her that’s not true. I swear, if I hear you leave her, it won’t be just me coming for you.”

“I can’t live without her, Robby.” Jack bowed his head to hide the tears.

“I know, brother.” Robby wrapped an arm around him.

“Dr. Abbot?” The nurse cleared her throat. “yeah?”

“Dr. Craig said, and this is him I’m quoting, ‘if that stubborn ass thinks she can handle it he can do the dressing change.’ So, it’s up to you.” The nurse shrugged.

“Get me the dressing change supplies, please.”

“Jack,”

“Robby, she needs to see. We know that the healing process isn’t the same for everyone. I know her. She needs this.” Jack stomped back to the room. When he entered he could see the redness in her eyes, he kept it to himself.

“Robby’s here, is it ok for him to come in? He can help me with the dressing change.” Jack tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.  She nodded, not trusting her voice.  Jack went and grabbed the supplies from the nurse and ushered Robby into the room.

“Hey kid, you scared the shit out of us.” He smiled.

“Gotta keep you on your toes. Must of have been a fun one for the med students.” Callie laughed.

“Oh Jack made sure they weren’t anywhere near you.” Robby laughed.

“I thought this was a teaching hospital? Surely this was good teaching case.” Callie shot Jack a look that could kill.

“Wasn’t going to risk it.” He stated.

“Anyway, everyone downstairs wanted you know they were thinking of you. All chipped in and got you this basket, not a healthy thing insight.” He said putting the basket on the nightstand next to her bed.

“That’s sweet. Thank you. I’m sorry he’s been extra grouchy. I’d keep the interns out of his way for a while.” Callie smiled.

“Way ahead of you.” Robby winked.

“We’re going to change the dressing now, it might sting a bit, you might feel it pull at the skin. Let me know if it’s too much.” Jack pulled his gloves on.

He gently unwrapped the gauze from Callie’s face. The cotton pads that stuck to her face gave some trouble, Callie winced as he pulled them off. The skin was sutured closed and was bruised and red. The sutures went from the bottom of her chin up to her cheekbone with a line going down her neck about three inches. Jack swallowed harder than he meant when he saw it. It looked so painful and dramatic. His chest tightened and he couldn’t speak without breaking.

Robby looked over at him, nudging him to say something, anything. When Jack didn’t move, he took the mirror and handed it to Callie. He held it down in her hands for a moment.

“Remember that the sutures need to be removed and the swelling and bruising will go down. It’s going to be very different.” Robby warned.

“I know.” Callie said.  She lifted the mirror with shaky hands and took in her reflection. She couldn’t stop the tears, she didn’t want to. They flowed silently down her face, stinging the sensitive skin.

“Dr. Craig did a great job. The Sutures are some of the best I’ve ever seen.” Robby told her, trying to give her some solace.

Jack started cleaning the wound, his eyes red. He focused on the medicine. Keeping it clean and dry. Wrapping it up with precision. He had no idea Robby had left until Callie had put a hand to his face, pulling him back to earth.

“I have to ask this question because it won’t stop banging around my brain. I know the answer, I just need to hear it. Will you still think I’m pretty with all of this?” Her voice cracked as she fought through the sobs.

Jack looked at her with shock and disbelief. How could she think he had nothing but devotion for her?

“I love you. I will always love you. You will always be the most stunning woman on the planet. This changes nothing, not for me. You have me, heart and soul. What’s left of them at any rate.” He pulled her in for a soft kiss, tender but delicate, afraid to hurt her further.

“I think that’s what the kids call a simp.” Callie giggled.

“Seriously? Now?”

“Gotta keep you from breaking down completely.” She smiled up at him.

“I love you.”

“Ditto”  

[twistedpink]

“If you, the beastkeeper, do not spread this email to 6 people before the end of supplementary spooky season, the one you love the most dearly will be cursed until the last eve has passed. Ignore at your own risk!“ Spam email aside, you’re not bothering your friends with it even for a joke,, A couple days pass and sure enough, (because isn’t your luck legendary?) your boyfriend is turned into a hideous monster- foretold to stay that way until the winterween season has ended :0 Will he attack you? How can you support him? And most importantly, will the snack stash last long enough to avoid the holiday rush?

Zombie!Ace Trappola

Ace was actually the one to send you the message, (like he doesn’t bother you enough) he thinks people trying to make extra holidays a thing is hilarious! He’ll also use whatever excuse he can to deny that he’s been turned into the dumbest monster there is,, You’re lucky it’s only for a couple days- else he’d start gnawing on you to get his protein in :) The “joking” about eating you was wayyy too soon, so for his last couple hours he’s tied up on the couch to avoid any sneak attacks.. Nothing’ll stop his smart mouth though, and he makes sure you know how much he needs you to come back! Whenever you do show up he says it’s just to change the channel, but his involuntary babbling (both sleep deprived and zombieish) says a different story <3

“babeee,,, C’mere, I won’t eat you. If I wanted to I would’ve, even then my bite’s not too bad.. BOO! Did I spook you??”

Banshee!Cater Diamond

You’d better have experience with subway surfers and stalking magicam, Cater’ll die if you can’t entertain him!! He phases through anything around the house, anytime he talks it’s uncontrollably loud, and he can’t even touch you :( He gets mini premonitions, but it’s not as cool as you’d expect. Since you’re not in danger with modern commodities, he gets visions of who gets canceled next or what’s going bad in the fridge :/ Cater flying around is much better than dealing with a troll- but he’s not happy about the pajamas he “died in”, and will make sure to be more fashionable in bed! <3

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE sorry, that pic is cute!! Can you video me again? I know it hasn’t worked yet, just one last try and we’ll take a nap, scout’s honor!”

Ogre!Jack Howl

If you thought Jack was too big before, he gets massive with the curse :0 Poor guy can’t keep up with the height- sheer bulk weighing him down and stopping him from getting his chores done (no matter how careful he is). You eventually resolve to put him on bedrest, but he can’t reach far enough to wash his back anymore, so you’re forced to rinse him off with a warm towel <3 The new mass has definitely affected how he fills his clothes out, and it hurts being so buff :( New stretch marks mar his biceps, and growing pains don’t seem that painful until you remember how bad they were at like fourteen. Massaging the ache from his muscles while you babble about your day’s all he could ask for, and he loves that you take care of him <33

“Oh, you’re running the wash? I’ll finish it, and it’s only right to fix that cabinet you’ve been talking about.. You don’t have to thank me! I know you’d do the same.”

Kelpie!Floyd Leech

Floyd is already unbelievable on his normal setting, but now you trap him in the bathtub?? Blashphemy! Getting a good soak wears his transformation potion down, so now he’s trying to drag you into the tub while being too tall (long??) to fit inside it,, You can hardly tell if the curse even affects him apart from the translucent sheen of his skin and the fact that his impressions are really good now. (He’s tricked you into opening the front door way too many times because he can imitate knocking now) Joking about drowning you is just a normal Floyd activity, but by the second pass of his tail going for your wrist, you decided to wait the curse out from your bedroom.. It’s for the best, but that doesn’t mean your pet kelpie doesn’t get lonely :(

“WAIT! I learned how to do a new noise come backkk :( Fine. Stay away, I don’t want you at my party,, *distant dolphin sounds*”

Werewolf!Epel Felmier

Two words, hell freaking yeah. No matter what you say he’ll take the transformation in stride- nobody else gets to be this manly!! He’s shoving new body hair in your face like a trophy, but you never remembered movie werewolves being so,, Clingy? Epel’s always feining for a scratch behind the ears to keep him in “peak form”, and unlike the other guys he goes out of his way to be in public. The curse gets him high off putting an arm around your waist and nodding at the beastmen he knows.. After his usual 3 hours of messing up the apartment before bed, the insomnia is ruff. Good thing his honey’s there to help him out <3

“I am NOT sum’ mutt >:( Vil’s jus got it in the ol’ melon to keep ma hair tidy, so you’ve gotta help!”

Chupacabra!Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia is obsessed with the little detail that this “blessing” picked him out of all the people in your life, and gets weirdly smug with it,, Nothing about his life changes too much (avoiding the sun and whatnot) but he does get a little “method” with his role as the beast to your beauty <3 A week passes in the blink of an eye, so you’d better treasure your rented monster! He takes every opportunity to nurse the sensitive column of your neck, babbling about some “unique instincts”.. For a month after the curse has subsided, you wake up with fresh bites along any exposed skin- Lilia’s lucky you think he’s so cute, not many would believe his naive act! He capitalizes on his boyfriend privileges, for they are nothing if not special <3

“Ah! You believe I am the night terror? You would blame the one you “love most dearly” for this?? Heinous!”

[thewritingfairy]

I keep thinking about 'Jason crime' and the fact that they made a replica of reader's room is so... disturbing? Scary? (I don't find the word in English. It's not my first language)

Imagine you got beaten helf to death and your room got completely destroyed and when you woke up you found yourself in a copy of your room. Like nothing. Ever. Happened.

The only events you have are your family hamilton and your physical condition.

It gives me questions.

1. Do the girls know that Jason came to the reader room and destroyed it? Because you said that they were just told he fallen to Pit madness and reader got hurt in the cross fire. Is that all they know?

2. (This one is dark) What would happen if the Batfamily was late and the reader ended up dead by Jason's hands? I mean the only normal one in their family died by the hand of one of them.

Will guilt come crashing on them or will it be a slow process?

Will They make a funeral and try to make some excuse?

What will happen to Jason?

Will they try to bring the reader back?

_🪷

Fic mentioned: 04.1 Jason's crime

I think the words you used were correct, English isn't my first language either and I switch a lot between dialects (which might be noticable tbh).

But it is disturbing, yes. Especially if you factor in that the batfamily are supposed to be heroes. They are supposed to be the 'good ones'.

But to your questions;

No, they don't know anything. They only know that your heirlooms have been destroyed, they didn't even remember were your old room was, so they think it was just a small pit incident. And that you were hurt so badly because you threw yourself on your heirlooms without thinking. (they don't factor in that you have never recieved training and don't know about Jason's pit madness or anything really)

Now reader dying, that sounds like a good ass side story tbh.

BUT, if Reader died that means that Jason has to confront something else. The fact that he did the same thing the Joker did, just - the prolonged torture and the crowbar. But does that make it any better? Of course not, so that's why it's enough to make him spiral even more.

It breaks everyone's heart that the normal one passed away, and this is before Damian gets pissed at you. So he demands that you have a big funeral, that you are remembered properly and that you are grieved properly by your mother's traditions.

There will be guilt crashing down, there will be a funeral but there will also be excuses. They'll say that a petty villain broke in and killed you, they already lost you so you won't blame them for not wanting to lose Jason right?

I don't really like the idea of bringing the Reader's back with the pit, especially a disabled reader. (Because if they were to die and then brought back their illness would absolutely flare up) I believe personally, that Reader's chronic pain would get worse after going through the pit.

[affableramen]

i’m the anon who sent the ask for first time in bed. by that i mean it’s the first time they go to sleep together and how they react to this. it can be fluffy or suggestive!

Hi you didn’t specify which genshin men you would like, so I made by my choice. I apologise if you don’t see your favourite here, I unfortunately can’t read minds

FIRST TIME GETTING TO SHARE THE BED WITH GENSHIN MEN

|| Ayato, Wriothesley & Lone edition ||

Ayato

It was your first time sleeping in the same bed with Ayato. By common choice, it was your apartment that you used for the sleep in, at least this time. Your bedroom was not as big as in Ayato’s suite but once he stepped in you noticed how quickly his gaze softened, – that was a moment you realised that he was subconsciously satisfied with your room and liked the vibe on the whole.

“Are you a cuddly type?”

“Not really. I prefer to avoid unnecessary touch when possible.”

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, ready to indulge into sleep time along with your boyfriend, however Ayato was still wearing his suit, as if he was hesitant to proceed to lie down. To be frank you were not completely sure if he’d like that idea, as he was a very experienced man and he probably expected to proceed deeper than simply sleeping together. A part of you believed that he was decent enough to not let such thoughts occupy his mind too much.

“It’s our first time sleeping in the same bed. Do you have any requests from me? Like you could be a light sleeper etc.”, you asked him, looking forward for him to join you while he was undoing his expensive-looking cufflinks.

“I am a light sleeper, yes”, he responded, unnoticeably caught up perplexed at your correct remark. “I also prefer to be in complete darkness while asleep. I cannot stand a single hint of light, it irritates me”, his face expressed disgust and arrogance for a mere moment before he quickly adjusted himself and asked in a less hostile manner: “Should you have any requests?”

“Not at all. I guess we’re good to go. Why don’t you change into pyjamas?”

“One second”, Ayato excused himself to the bathroom to change his formal clothes into complete night wear. It didn't take him a lot, and he emerged in the bedroom as soon as possible. When you saw him first it was an unbelievable display. The man who’d do everything in a sleek suit was a complete opposite sight right now. It was as ridiculous as it was refreshing.

You looked at him clothed in a silver silk pyjamas set and smiled, you almost laughed outloud.

“For a person who’s only seen you in corporate suits, that’s a refreshing change. I’d only imagine you wear something cozy, and now I can see it with my own eyes.”

“Cozy”, he scoffed and got closer to the bed, his hands so restless as if he tried to cover his body. As if the sight of him without his sleek fashion was something indecent. “Do you like cozy?”

“I think it looks good on you”, you pushed the blanket to the side, inviting him carefully. “Come here.”

The commissioner looked you in the eyes as if searching for a double consent before he finally got under the duvet with you. He took the position to your left, but didn't move an inch before you allowed it. You extended your hand and gently turned off the lights. There appeared an inconvenient silence.

“Are you comfortable? We’ve never shared intimacy, yet you agreed to sleeping in. In my apartment. It could be dangerous for the both of us.”

“Usually when I’m in bed with a woman it is for an entirely different purpose. However, you’re an entirely different person, too”, he looked down at your hand before grasping it carefully, not causing you even slight pain. “My intentions are pure. Allow me to hold you while we rest.” You nodded, and slowly and carefully he pulled you closer so that his chest would hit your back. It made you smile to yourself subconsciously, and your expression went cocky. His presence was not just tolerable, it was pleasant in fact. He was a tall man with slim body type and you could almost feel his bones when you held his hand. But despite his bony physique once he wrapped the blanket around the both of you, he provided you unexpected warmth. Yes, even such an icy old businessman had been able to melt himself for you.

“He said he’s not a cuddly type. Who could think that the Yashiro Commissioner was such a softie underneath.”

He gave your arm a light squeeze before settling his own hand comfortably around your waist, not eager to share you with anyone else, as if asserting his ‘ownership’ of you.

“I only cross my boundaries for you. To be frank, I quite enjoy being so close to you, even though I was a bit skeptical from the start.”

You could feel his smile on you, which was definitely much more cunning and cocky than yours right now. Ayato’s breath was warm against your neck, before you decided to turn around and face him, your fingers caressing his hair. You heard his breath hitch at that moment yet he didn't move away. He froze in place, allowing you to cuddle him the way you saw it, despite him always being the one in control. Ayato showed vulnerability once he’s gotten into bed with you, even if for such pure reason as sleeping. As he was taller, your breath would tickle his neck while you snuggled him. After some time, Ayato pulled his arm around your waist at last, even though your position, face-to-face, was quite personal.

In the middle of the night you were restless and you woke up to drink a glass of water. Your mood lightened up when you saw that the cunning, extremely arrogant and calculating leader was still in your bed. He did not run away and remained completely still, his hand subconsciously reaching to you even in his sleep.

Wriothesley

“Hope you haven't forgotten to bring your tooth brush”, you say as Wriothesley enters your place with a backpack on his shoulder. He is certainly not a dude who suffers from financial hardship but his reaction to your house is not as frustrated as you thought it’d be. His house by any means is more comfortable and spacious than yours so you had a reason to expect his disappointment or at least slight displeasure. However upon entering your corridor Wriothesley only chuckles lightly “Nice place you got here. Can I just drop it here?”

“No, take it to the bedroom”, Wriothesley looks at you with shock. Seriously, you would trust him to drop his belongings in your room?

“It’s alright, trust me. Come upstairs with me.”

It is already quite a late hour when he arrives, and the both of you logically feel sleepy. Each one of you are a full time employee and your job takes its toll on you. Tonight is the first time when you’ll allow your boyfriend in the same bed with you. You were stirring in anticipation for this day for weeks, as the both of you thoroughly planned it. Luckily, Wriothesley did not forget to grab his tooth brush and pyjamas. Although you know his like for sleeping with naked chest, he shows incredible politeness and sensibility tonight by putting on a whole set of pyjamas. His muscular top cannot escape your curiousity as you watch him change carefully, his muscles flexing softly. Your eyes rake over his form, his chest and shoulders as he puts on his azure pyjama shirt. When he starts changing the bottoms you turn away, smiling to yourself. Naughty, you think, of me, to watch him undress like that. Should’ve asked him to change in the bathroom.

When Wriothesley is done changing he clears his throat,

“So, you ready? I’m getting really sleepy here.”

You can’t lie and say you don’t want to sleep, too. You point your palm at the bed, inviting him into the softness of sheets. Wriothesley lets you get in first to take the comfortable position and establish your boundaries before letting himself settle.

His strong, ex-inmate body presses against the matress, sinking into the sheets with you and taking the place on your right. Your bed feels no longer empty and lonely.

“What do you usually do before bed?” You ask him, spontaneously, absolutely sincerely wanting to make a conversation flow naturally. The silence is insufferable and it’s irritating you. When you are with him, you don't want to keep your mouth shut, you want to talk, and to listen. Wriothesley gives it a thought for a moment.

“Usually I have a cup of herbal tea before bed. It adjusts your sleep, helps your body and mind to relax. Why, you’d like to indulge my habits?”

Yes, archons, of course you’d like him to to share his habits with you. That’s what happens when you strive to be closer with someone. And him being your boyfriend, not just a rooommate, only justifies this desire.

“I have a citrus melissa tea if that would suffice?”

Wriothesley’s eyes widen but his voice remains flat. His expressions are always like that – internally he’s impressed but never showing the open vulnerability.

“Yes, that’s a brilliant idea I assume. Do you want me to come with you?”

“No”, you mean, yes, but… making him get up from the bed and experience embarrassment as he realises how red you’ve become by being so intimately close to him for the first time? No, never. “I’ll make it quick. You just relax here.”

“’kay”, he smirks to himself. This sharp-minded man definitely senses your actual reason to making him stay in bed.

Your hands shake slightly when you brew the tea, firstly for him and then for yourself. You choose a minimalistic white cup for him which is by size bigger than yours. As Wriothesley is an infamous tea addict, you want to serve him the best and as generous as possible. There you go, placing the mugs on the tray with napkins and spoons and taking it upstairs. When you kick the bedroom door with your leg, Wriothesley’s already holding a book he probably grabbed from your bedside table.

“Detective stories? Romance intrigues? Interesting. You like this kind of stuff?”

You place the tray on the table and snatch the book from his hand.

“That’s what’s popular in Fontaine. That’s what everyone reads.”

“But you, do you like it?”

His inquiry makes you question your beliefs.

“In a way yes, it’s scandalous and offensive, and I love stimulating my nervous system”, you offer him the mug. “Here’s our sleep time tea.”

“Thank you.”

You carefully take your place back into the bed with Wriothesley and sip your tea. The room is complete tranquility, with you and Wriothesley enjoying your evening conveniently in pyjamas.

Once the mugs are emptied and sweet tea has filled your stomachs, you place them back on the table. It’s time to actually sleep and you switch off the lights.

“Well? Good night now I guess.”

“Do you wanna cuddle?” The words escape your mou faster than you could think of them. Wriothesley answers a subtle smile, hinting at having waited for you to offer that. You are the one to mention it, but he’s the one to start. Wriothesley carefully wraps his big calloused hands around your waist. His touch is firm but not pressuring at all. As if asking for your permission he first runs his hand over your back, caressing before actually moving closer, until the two of you are flush against each other.

“How do you feel? Alright?”

“Yes.”

As soon as you approve, your response serves motivation for Wriothesley to pull you even closer, making you a small spoon to him and actually cuddling you. It is wrong to assume that Wriothesley is not embarrassed or shy at all having you pressed so close to him. His breathings and careful, slow movements prove that he is agitated too and does his best to not ruin your expectations and comfort. Deliberately, he wraps his arms around you fully and keeps you warm, not a single thing occupying his mind right now except for you, while you slowly fall asleep to the beating of his heart and distant clock ticking.

Pantalone

With a borderline soft smile Pantalone walks out of the shower and looks at you. He smells like heavenly musk and mint toothpaste, delivering a mix of impossible. A dark navy satin gown hugs to his body loosely. His skinny complexion is of course the cause of it. You can’t help but notice the sharp outline of his shoulders and his hands – bare and calloused, subjected to eczema, but still looking incredibly tender.

“Are you sure you’ll be comfortable staying a night with me? After all, I’m a man.”

His clarification makes you smile — careful, isn’t he? Setting a slow pace is certainly one way to maintain a positive vibe between you two.

Once getting into the bed sheets where you welcome him with a soft smile, Pantalone relaxes and lets out a soft exhale. He takes his glasses off and puts them into the case on the bedside table.

“Good. Please, make yourself comfortable.” You wait for Pantalone to pull on the blanket, but he seems to be waiting too. The both of you freeze there, in the bed, expecting one another to make a move. Pantalone realises how inconvenient and inconsiderate the situation is and his smirk turns into a wide smile.

“This is so silly of me, isn’t it?” He finally grips onto the blanket and pulls it, the fuzzy warm thing coats you both smoothly.

You notice the way Pantalone stares you up and down, not in a weird way, but rather studying your face again and again. He has seen you so many times, yet now you seem different up close to him in this intimate moment.

You clear your throat:

“Do you cuddle?”

“Cuddling?” His smile falters only for a moment, the wheels in his head are turning. “I assume so, only if you’d like that.” Something about his answer remains unspoken. Letting someone so intimately close not only to the body but to his soul is apparently a burden. Kisses and hugs after all are much different than a one night stand with a gorgeous rich woman he doesn’t love.

“I’d very much like that.”

Pantalone nods, as if accepting his fate he snuggles closer to you and says firmly:

“Wrap your arms around my waist.” You do exactly that, wrapping your arms around his what seems to be quite thin waist, even though covered in a robe. The robe however does not hide the fragility of his body.

Pantalone relaxes into the mattress and attempts to get into a more lying-like position, all before you notice something.

“You have toothpaste on your face.”

“Toothpaste? On my face?” Visibly startled and embarrased, he who is used to always take care of his appearance to the highest standard, immediately roams over his face with his fingers trying to find the spot but ends up smearing it. Seeing the helpless Harbinger failing at finding the toothpaste spread on his cheek, you bring your thumb to his face and wipe it properly. Certainly not expecting your touch, Pantalone tenses up a bit but lets you finish the task. Once you clean it with your delicate touch you slowly lower you hand to run down his shoulders.

“Are we ready to sleep?” you ask, your hand lingering on his robe, embracing the warmth coming from his body. Pantalone chuckles, still covering his previous embarrasment and responds softly:

“If you find yourself completely comfortable, then we shall sleep”, his face once again loses his smirk as he pulls on you slowly and gently to keep you flush and pressed to his chest, with no visible ulterior motive however. His touch is so gentle it is almost innoticeable, yet he manages to guide you closely to him. He looks into your eyes for a few moments before murmuring simply “Good night” and shutting his eyes.

During the sleep however he tosses and turns his body so that the big spoon role averts to you naturally.

[bicth-and-in-that-order]

Let’s talk about THAT CaitVi scene and the fandom’s response to it

All cards out on the table, I used to adore CaitVi. I was there in the trenches reading the fanfics, watching the shipping videos, even going on fucking dynasty scans for the fanart + doujinshis😭 (iykyk). I loved CaitVi down bad, and of all the things I was most excited for in S2, this ship becoming canon was near the top of the list. I say this to say I don’t come from a place of apathy or hatred when it comes to this ship, but just genuine disappointment and disgust for how it was mishandled in season 2. Particularly when it comes to the abuse.

In preparation of this rant, I did my homework to fully understand both sides. I watched this video:

Which explains Cait’s behavior and even addresses her physical abuse. And, as much as it pains me to say this, I looked through the CaitVi tag on tumblr and read as many posts as I could defending Caitlyn and CaitVi as a ship.

Before I begin, I think it would be fair to lay out the main defense before tearing into these people. So let’s talk about Cait:

The main thesis of “Stop Me Oh’s” video and many other CaitVi shippers is that Caitlyn is someone who doesnt like to communicate her feelings and thinks actions speak louder than words. By helping Vi without hesitation during Act 2 and putting aside her grief to allow Vi a chance to talk to Jinx, someone who murdered her mother, Cait is already showing immense remorse. She’s taking steps to make amends for her actions and proving that her love and trust in Vi outweighs her desire to get revenge. She doesn’t need to actually utter a single apology when she’s done more than enough to make up for her misgivings.

And excusing the whole fascist thing, ALL she did was hit Vi. She didn’t kill the poor thing like Jayce and they weren’t fighting to death like Ekko and Jinx:

And, let’s be honest, wouldn’t you do the same? Put yourself Cait’s shoes. Imagine your family was blown up by your partner’s crazy lunatic sister. You watched her turn your world upside down. And while your partner is fully supportive of hunting down your mother’s murderer, she suddenly switches up when it’s time to actually go through with it. She’s stopping you from shooting this deranged killer all because you MIGHT shoot some annoying child. And then you miss the best chance you’ll ever get to take down this terrorist and your partner comes crawling back to you, talking about how you’re just like that murderer. Then, in the heat of the moment, you hit her with the butt of your gun. You hit her and you abandon her in a hole while she cries on the ground. It’s harsh, but doesn’t she deserve it?

Don’t you see? Cait is a poor rich girl who lost her mother. Unlike these other murderers and thugs, all she did was hit Vi during a moment of passion and would never, ever, ever, ever, do it again. Vi should be grateful Cait even let her see her only family, she could’ve just fucking killed the bitch.

Okay. Jokes asides, let’s just address each of these points one by one.

1. Cait already apologized through her actions

This is the most common defense I see for Cait, and it’ll be the lengthiest one too.

So my question is: For what?

Ignoring the fact that verbally apologizing IS an action, how does Cait deciding not to pursue Jinx and allowing Vi to see her only family correlate to her making amends for the physical abuse?At the very least , I can see Cait siding against Ambessa and admitting she fell for propaganda as “apologizing” for her turning to fascism. I guess. But what is Cait atoning for exactly when she helps out Vi? I’ll try to explain what I think it is:

When Cait says Vi has Jinx’s blood, shoves her gun into her stomach, and leaves her in a ditch, that represents her no longer trusting Vi. Cait thinks she’ll choose Jinx over her. So later, when Cait sides with Vi and allows her to see Jinx, it’s shows that she’s willing to trust Vi again and her judgement of character. Which Vi understands. When we think about it this way, Cait hitting Vi isn’t read as “physical abuse” by the narrative because the physical act of violence isn’t the issue the writers are trying to portray. No, the issue is Cait no longer trusting Vi. Physical abuse was just used as a vehicle to convey Cait’s distrust of Vi, who she now sees as a stranger/enemy….for like, an episode or two, then switches up lol.

But my point in saying all of this is, Cait isn’t really “apologizing through her actions” about the physical abuse. In fact, that was never even a consideration. And no, we’re not going to brush it off by saying “well shouldn’t this count for Cait hitting Vi too”. If we’re to take physical abuse seriously, and WE ARE you freaks, this is an offense that Cait needs to address separately. Properly.

Imagine if someone punched you in the face then stole your cookies. They never apologize to you for anything, but over the following days, they buy you cookies, maybe even some milk. Do you think these actions are enough of an “apology” for punching you in the fucking face? If they are then you need some serious help.

Ah, and contrary to the popular belief that Cait doesn’t need to verbally apologize bc she shows her actions through words and yadda yadda yadda, Cait does, in fact, try to apologize in Jinx’s suicide cell. About fucking Maddie. Then she gets cut off. You would think Cait wouldn’t feel the need to apologize about Maddie since “aCtIonS sPeAk LoUdeR tHaN wOrDs” but I guess Cait picks and choose what she feels sorry about.

And I can already hear the counter argument. “It’s not about if I forgive Cait, but if Vi does since she’s the victim. Cait and Vi kiss and make up, and by the season’s end, they’re a couple. Therefore, Vi forgives Cait about everything.”

Putting aside the cycle of abuse, my question is: how does Vi feel about Cait hitting her? And vice versa. Since the fandom loves throwing “media literacy” around so much, let’s put that to the test. While the physical abuse is never brought up, hinted at, thought about, or addressed ever again (much like how the fandom treats it), that doesn’t mean we can’t talk about the implications.

If Vi doesn’t specifically mention the physical abuse, what does that mean for her character? Did Vi think she deserved it, or maybe she was just used to it, maybe she thought it was in the heat of the moment and Cait would never hurt her again (super toxic mindset btw), etc etc.

If Cait never mentions her physically abusing Vi, what does that mean for her character? Does she even care, does she think she was justified, did she think Vi could take it, why is Maddie the first thing she apologizes about and not hitting Vi and leaving her in a dank hole?

Because we could easily be getting into toxic/abusive territory, and when it comes to physical violence, there’s very little wiggle room for a more positive interpretation.

2. These characters aren’t perfect, they’re flawed

So this argument falls back on the “well pobody’s nerfect” defense and to that extent I agree. I think Cait is selfish and callous, but all the other characters who have similar flaws (think Silco, Marco, Ambessa, probably more) end up fucking dying and/or have actual narrative consequences. I’ve seen people argue that Cait losing her eye is a narrative consequence and IT IS for Cait’s alt right phase and choosing to follow Ambessa but it’s NOT for hitting Vi. Neither is Maddie betraying her. An appropriate narrative consequence would’ve been Vi leaving her ass, but I promise you the same people defending Cait would’ve had a thousand think pieces about how the writers sabotaged Cait’s character. Arcane is NOT a show about bad people getting away with bad things either.

3. Well Jayce killed Viktor / Ekko and Jinx tried to kill each other

So this argument acknowledges Cait’s abuse and her lack of apology but tries to deflect by claiming the other couples are violent, if not more. Even though this is a classic whataboutism, I’ll address it. I won’t acknowledge the timebomb side of the argument because it’s incredibly dumb, but for Jayvik, where do we begin? Recall that after Cait and Vi kissed, they were on romantic terms. That’s why Cait even bothers bringing up Maddie, and it’s really more so to let the viewer know Cait will excuse abuse but draws the line at infidelity. During Act 2, Jayce and Viktor are enemies and Viktor will literally kill everyone if he continues on his path. Jayce could have at least talked to Viktor first, but the writers chose to make him deranged or whatever so that was out of the question. And again, they’re enemies. Fighting isn’t off the table, even killing. If Viktor sucker punched Jayce while they were astral projecting together, then that might be analogous to Cait and Vi, but they don’t.

4. Not all relationships are perfect

This is one is similar to point two, but I’m taking a different angle. No, not all relationships are perfect, but I would never call physical abuse a “flaw” that’s to be expected in a normal, healthy relationship. Once you introduce violence, we call that abusive. I didn’t know we were in dire need of an abusive lesbian relationship, but I’ll walk with you.

If Arcane had the balls, CaitVi could’ve been portrayed as the toxic yuri couple it clearly is. They could’ve leaned into Vi being desperate enough to take Cait back and Cait not giving a single fuck about hitting Vi and leaving her. And if they did, this post wouldn’t exist. But they don’t. We’re genuinely supposed to like this slop and view it as a good thing because they kiss and play fun pop music while they fuck instead of the more appropriate “Poison” (by Bell Biv DeVoe ofc).

5. Well Jinx did XYZ to Vi

Another whataboutism. At risk of making this post longer than it already is, I’m gonna be brief. Yes, Jinx did awful things to Vi, but the narrative properly punishes Jinx for all of her actions (I mean the girl literally sacrifices herself) and wastes no time calling her out, especially Vi. Behind Cait, Vi is Jinx’s biggest hater. Literally chokes the girl out on sight. So let’s not pretend there’s some hypocrisy going on here, though it doesn’t escape me that many Cait fans end up being Jinx haters.

With that, I think I’ve covered all the major defenses for Caitvi’s physical abuse. All I can say is that the relationship is fucked and Vi deserves better.

[sweetbans29]

Back to You (2) - CC Series

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: Who knew Indianapolis would feel so small...

Warnings: little pains

Word Count: 2.1k

Previous - Next

Back to You Masterlist & Sweetbans Masterlist

2.5 YEARS LATER

Moving to Indiana was not your first choice. It also wasn't your second or third for that matter but here you are.

You stand in your new apartment, looking around at all the empty space you are going to have to fill. You hate filling space.

"Yo, where are you going to want this?" Kate comes walking in holding a lamp.

"Well considering there is no furniture here yet, I'd say the middle of the living room floor should do," you say sarcastically.

"Ha ha ha, very funny," she says as she places it on the kitchen counter. Claire comes through the door with a small box and places it next to the lamp.

"Okay, once the movers get here with the hauler I will have them working from the bedroom out. We will need to go to Target and a few other stores to get all the smaller stuff," Claire says. You are beyond glad that she is here to help, also that she has an eye for filling space.

"I think that is my queue to go grab food," Kate says as she picks up her keys and shuffles her way to the door.

You shoot Kate a glare but know that you can't go without food for much longer.

Over the next few hours your apartment slowly starts to look inhabitable. The following few hours are spent shopping for things that you know are just going to collect dust but don't say a word about because Claire seems to be really enjoying herself.

After you drove away from Caitlin, you did everything you could to make it seem like nothing had changed. To everyone around you, nothing had changed - they had no idea your world had just been torn apart and run over. The only thing that has changed is you stopped going to basketball games. You came up with every excuse in the books to get yourself out of sitting in a stadium where everyone was cheering on your girl - who used to be your girl.

It took Kate halfway through the season to figure out what had happened and when she did - she ran straight to you. It all started to make sense in her mind, why you weren't at games and never really around anymore. She never suspected anything because Caitlin seemed so normal.

When Kate confronted you about Caitlin - you broke down in front of someone for the first time over the girl you loved. She sat there and listened to every word you said and she was infuriated but she never left your side. She had every intention of confronting Caitlin but you begged her not to. It was already hard enough to pretend like you haven't been struggling to survive.

Ever since then, you made Kate swear that she wouldn't let what Caitlin did to you get in the way of her relationship with her teammate. And Kate kept her promise - even if it took her a while to look at Caitlin the same again. Kate did an above and beyond job at maintaining both of your friendships and it is because of that ability that you consider her your only real friend.

After getting back from all the shopping and taking orders from Claire on where to put everything you got all around your apartment, the three of you collapsed on your couch.

"I don't know how I could ever thank you both for helping me with all of this," you say.

"It was my genuine pleasure," Claire says with the biggest smile. You smile back and hear Kate groan.

"I am never doing that again," Kate says, causing Claire to hit her shoulder.

The three of you laugh all sharing in the fact that Kate did the least amount of work. You all fall into a comfortable silence and it begins to hit you. You are now living in the Caitlin Clark center of the world.

Over the next few weeks you settle into the new city, doing everything you can to avoid Gainbridge Fieldhouse even though you know you will be there sooner or later considering that is now your new place of work. If you had a choice, you would be working for any other WNBA team building out there - hell, you even looked into every NBA building option. But you didn't have much say when your executive director said they wanted you in Indiana, that is where you were forced to go.

Aside from it being home to the one person you try your best to avoid, the job you are stepping into is one of your dreams. You worked day and night to get to where you are and you are super proud of how far you have come in the short time after college. Becoming the Director of Player Relations for Gainbridge Fieldhouse, you knew you would only be able to dodge Clark for so long.

You have settled into your office and have made your rounds to introduce yourself to your new team. You have even started connecting with the Fever players which has been quite eventful. You first met Aliyah Boston and connected immediately. You tried not too but ended up fan-girling over her TikTok's. She tried to get you to join one but you refused, not wanting to be the cause of her losing followers due to your horrible dancing.

You then got some time with Natasha Howard and Kelsey Mitchell. Both of whom loved your intentionality and vision for how management can support the players.

You have met the rest of the team, minus a certain someone, in passing making sure to figure out a time to connect. At this point, you assumed that Caitlin knew you were in the building but haven't seen her yet to confirm.

Today's the day that all changes. At least that is what you are telling yourself since it is the first game of the season.

After getting to Gainbridge, you planned to take some time in your office before heading down to the floor but the second you walk in the door you are swept to do 20 different things. Before you know it, you are on the floor as the team runs out for final warm-ups.

Walkie in hand, you do everything in your power to stay busy the second you have a moment to breathe. As much as you want to breathe, you don't want to see that girl plastered all over this arena. You keep your head down and find your shoes uncharacteristically interesting.

A hand graces your shoulder and you peek up to see your assistant looking at you with soft eyes and in that moment you feel like you are back in college - broken and hiding.

"Hey Ben, what's up?" You ask, trying to shake the pit in your stomach.

"One would think after a few seasons this would feel normal," Ben says as he looks around at the crowds.

"This will never be normal, it will always be special. Trust me," you say. It comes out just above a whisper. Ben smiles at you and you smile back, shifting your eyes from Ben to the court for the first time. With the amount of people in this place you are certain you will blend into the background.

Big mistake.

As your eyes hit the court, they are met with all too familiar brown ones. Your smile fades as your eyes lock on hers. Both of you froze in time. It feels like your eyes are locked for hours but in the 5 seconds of gripping despair your breath is taken from you and you feel the air sucked from your lungs. You turn away and take a hold of Ben's arm.

"I left something in my office, I have to grab it" you say as you begin to walk towards the back.

"I can go get it, you should be here when they announce the players - it's thrilling," Ben says with a smile.

"No, no, I got it," you insist and continue walking. You feel like you are suffocating.

When you get to your office you close the door and turn the lights off. Back against the door, you sink to the floor and bring your head to your knees.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

You sit there for who knows how long. When you feel your heart calm and your breath steady - you stand. Even after 2+ years of not seeing her, she still controls your heart. You grab your walkie and head back out.

You have no idea how much of the game has passed. As you are walking back out the tunnel an arm grabs you and pulls you into a small room.

"What the-", you begin but shut up immediately when you are met face to face with Caitlin.

She is looking down at you, hand still on your arm. Her fingertips brush the exposed skin on your forearm - a gesture you both were all too familiar with.

Neither of you say anything, not knowing what to say. You have imagined this moment every day since getting to Indy and now that you are here and alone for that matter, nothing comes out.

Caitlin hesitates but unlike your last meeting she brings her free hand up to brush her fingers against your cheek and her thumb against your bottom lip. You want to pull away but you lean in ever so slightly - she is too familiar.

Your eyes close as you feel your heart break all over again.

Caitlin can't take her eyes off of you. This feels like a dream, she has thought time and time again of how different things would have been if she cared more about you and less about the world. Cait continues to rub her thumb against your bottom lip until she feels a wet sensation meet her fingers. Her eyebrows furrow then ease when she realizes it's a tear.

She opens her mouth to say something, not that you had any reason to listen but she had to try. Before she can, the door opens and Steve pokes his head in.

"The second half is starting," Steve says and leaves right after.

Before Caitlin can do anymore damage, you step away from her. You don't look her in the eye - you can't. You see Caitlins hands grip the bottom of her jersey, just like they did the last time the two of you talked.

The last thing that Caitlin wants to do is walk away from you right now but she knows she doesn't have a choice. You watch as she makes her way to the door, stopping right before it and leaning her head against it.

You don't know why but before you stop yourself you find yourself reaching out and brushing one of her fly away hairs. It is now her turn to close her eyes. You pull her headband down and smooth some of her fly aways back before sliding it back onto her head. You bring your hands to her shoulders, giving them two squeezes like you would before every game to regulate her thoughts.

There is a soft knock at the door and you know Caitlin really needs to go but she doesn't move. She finally opens her eyes and you know she is doing everything she can to keep herself together.

She doesn't deserve your comfort. Both of you know it.

"Go," you say. It comes out softer than you intend - not that it was intended to be harsh.

She nods and reaches to open the door. Before letting herself out, she speaks.

"I would do anything to go back to that night," she says.

"Cait stop," you say, not wanting to do this right now. Not when she has to go out and finish a game.

"No," she says and turns to face you again. "That was the biggest mistake of my life and things are different now-"

The door opens and Caitlin is cut off.

"Clark, get your ass back out on that floor," one of the coaches comes in, grabbing her and dragging her out. You go unnoticed as you watch Caitlin be pulled out mid conversation.

Different? What could possibly be different now?

You have blocked her out of your life so much that you have no idea what is going on in hers. You shake your head - nothing has changed. This moment changed nothing. She is still the Caitlin that blindsided you and you did not spend the last two and a half years rebuilding your life to be broken again.

You grab your walkie and head back out, lighter than you have felt in a while.

The Fever lost that night and you can only hope that you had nothing to do with it.

AN: Part 2 in the books. Let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

Next

[shalscumbunny]

Could you do something with yandere phantom troupe kidnapping a former member who betrayed them? I just found your page and I love your stuff!

Traitor! Reader x Phantom Troupe

Warnings: Mentions of revenge, violence, kidnapped reader, and slight hints and approaches

Author's note: I hope I got it right and that you liked it, have a nice day.

IS THERE REALLY ANYONE WHO LIKES BONOLENOV OR KORTOPI?!, I INCLUDED THEM JUST TO INCLUDE THEM!

Men of the Phantom Troupe

CHROLLO LUCILFER

When you wake up, everything is silent. You’re in a stone room, dimly lit by a soft glow from the desk where he sits, writing in an old book. You don’t need to ask where you are. You already know.

Chrollo closes his book with a sigh and stands up, approaching with slow, measured steps. There’s something devastating in the way he looks at you—not with hatred, but with serene sadness. As if your betrayal had been a story written long before it even happened.

"Y/N… —his voice is soft, almost compassionate—. I won’t say it doesn’t hurt"

He kneels in front of you and takes your hands gently, his thumbs brushing over your skin. His dark eyes search yours, piercing.

"But I forgive you. Because deep down, I believe you didn’t truly understand what you were doing"

The chains around your wrists tighten as you try to pull away, but he doesn’t react. He doesn’t need to. His control over you isn’t physical. It’s mental.

"I will bring you back to us, Y/N. No matter how long it takes"

He says it with certainty, not as a threat, but as an undeniable truth.

FEITAN PORTOR

Pain is the first thing you feel. Something sharp presses against your skin—not deep enough to cut, but just enough to remind you that it’s there. Feitan crouches in front of you, spinning his sword between his fingers with a twisted grin.

"Mmm… disappointing"

His voice is razor-sharp, like a blade sliding over glass. He stands up and circles you, enjoying every little shudder of your body.

"I thought you were strong, Y/N. I thought you weren’t just another filthy traitor"

The last word drips from his lips like venom, sinking into you deeper than any wound. Suddenly, his sword moves, slicing off a small lock of your hair, letting it fall into your lap.

"Does it hurt?" he murmurs, amused.

He’s not talking about his blade. He’s talking about your betrayal, about the fact that he is here and you are completely at his mercy.

"I will make you regret it. But most of all… I’ll make you beg to stay"

PHINKS MAGCUB

The sound of a door slamming shut makes you jump. Phinks stands before you, fists clenched, his expression dark with rage. At first, there are no words—just his heavy breathing filling the space.

"How could you do this?"

His voice is rough, almost broken. In the blink of an eye, he lunges at you, grabbing your wrist tightly, forcing you to look at him.

"I protected you! I took care of you! —he shouts, his jaw tense—. Tell me what the hell was going through your head!"

But no excuse you offer will ever be enough. To him, what you did is unforgivable… but at the same time, he can’t let you go.

"Don’t do this to me again, Y/N…" his voice drops, shaking slightly "I don’t want to have to lock you up"

And yet, you know he will. Because losing you is something he won’t allow.

SHALNARK RYUSEI

"You know… I never thought we’d end up like this"

His voice is light, casual, as if he were chatting about the weather. But there’s something in his eyes that doesn’t match his relaxed smile.

When you open your eyes, you see him sitting in front of you, elbows resting on his knees, his face propped up in one hand. He’s smiling, but there’s no warmth in it. Not now.

"It kind of hurts, you know?" he chuckles softly, but there’s no real joy in the sound "Well… more than kind of. You broke my heart, Y/N"

His words are sweet, almost playful, but there’s tension behind them. Something sharp and dangerous in the way his smile never wavers.

You try to move, and that’s when you realize—your limbs won’t respond properly. They’re numb, weak.

Shalnark tilts his head as he watches your reaction and lifts his hand, showing you the small remote he’s holding with eerie ease.

"Oh, that" he twirls the device between his fingers, casual and effortless "Don’t worry, I didn’t put you in automatic mode. I still want this to be fun"

A shiver runs down your spine. You don’t know what’s worse—the veiled threat in his words or the fact that he genuinely seems to be enjoying this.

"You know what bothers me the most?" he sighs, as if disappointed by something trivial "I really loved you"

He pauses for a moment, then lets out a soft laugh, as if amused by his own words.

"No, wait…" he leans in slightly, his eyes locked onto yours "I still love you"

His words settle over you like a heavy weight. There’s something in his gaze, in his tone, that makes you realize immediately—

This isn’t just a confession.

It’s a sentence.

"If you had told me something was wrong, I would have fixed it" his voice remains sweet, but his smile widens just a little, revealing something far more dangerous "If you wanted more, I would’ve given it to you. If you wanted to leave…"

He pauses, watching you closely, studying every flicker of emotion in your face before whispering,

"I would’ve locked you up sooner"

He chuckles again, as if it were just a joke. But you both know it isn’t.

His hand moves to your cheek, his fingers tracing your skin with a tenderness that makes your stomach twist.

"Tell me, what can I do to make you stay?"

His other hand tightens around yours, just enough to make it clear that he won’t let go.

"Because I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N" his voice is a plea and a warning all at once "But I can’t let you go. Not again"

He holds you firmly, as if afraid you might disappear at any moment. His desperation is palpable, but that doesn’t mean he’ll give you a choice.

"We can make this work" he leans in even closer, his lips barely brushing against your ear "If you love me, forget everything else. Just tell me you love me"

For a moment, his grip loosens. Just a little. Just enough to make you believe you have a choice.

But you know the truth.

Shalnark is manipulative. He’s smart. And if he has to twist reality itself to make you his again, he won’t hesitate.

Because Shalnark’s love is warm, consuming, addictive…

And utterly inescapable.

NOBUNAGA HAZAMA

Nobunaga doesn’t hit you or yell. Not at first. He just sits across from you, one hand resting on the hilt of his katana, the other on his knee, watching you intensely.

"Tell me it was a mistake"

His voice is low, almost pleading.

"Tell me someone manipulated you"

But when you don’t answer, his jaw clenches, and his patience shatters. In an instant, he grabs your shoulders and shakes you.

"Tell me it wasn’t real, Y/N!"

Fear grips your chest as you see the desperation in his eyes. Nobunaga cannot accept the truth. And if he won’t accept it…

"Don’t make me kill you… because if you’re not mine, you can’t be anyone else’s"

FRANKLIN BORDEAU

Franklin doesn’t hit you. He doesn’t yell. His punishment is isolation.

"I thought you were smarter than this"

His voice is calm, unreadable. He turns away, walking toward the door.

"I’ll leave you here for a while. So you can think. So you remember what it means to be with us… and what it means to be alone"

ILLUMI ZOLDYCK

Illumi doesn’t react violently. He doesn’t raise his voice. He just stands there, his expression unreadable, his dark eyes piercing through you like daggers.

"You disappointed me, Y/N"

His tone is as flat as ever, but there’s something chilling about the way he says it. Like a judge sentencing someone to death.

"Did you really believe I wouldn’t find you? That I would simply… let you go?"

You try to move, but your body refuses to obey. And then you realize—his needles are already in place.

"You should be grateful. I could have killed you for this"

He tilts his head, studying your face.

"But instead… I will fix you"

He steps closer, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

"You won’t make this mistake again, Y/N. Not when you belong to me"

HISOKA MORROW

The moment you open your eyes, Hisoka’s grin is the first thing you see. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, one leg crossed over the other, looking at you as if you were a delicious little prize wrapped just for him.

"Oh, Y/N~" his voice is silky, teasing "Did you really think you could betray me and just walk away?"

His fingers trail down your cheek, slow and deliberate, sending a shiver through your spine.

"I have to admit… I’m a little turned on."

His laughter is lighthearted, almost affectionate, but there’s something predatory beneath it. Something dangerous.

"You running away only makes the chase more fun, after all"

He leans in, his breath warm against your ear.

"But the game is over, love. And now, I get to play with you as much as I want"

The worst part? You don’t know if he means torture… or something else entirely.

BONOLENOV NDONGO

Bonolenov whispers in his native tongue, drawing blood symbols on the floor.

"Your betrayal… will not go unpunished"

He watches you with eerie serenity.

"I will return you to the clan. One way or another"

KORTOPI

Every door leads to the same place. Every window shows a replica of reality.

Women of the Phantom Troupe

MACHI KOMACHINE

Machi doesn’t say anything when she sees you. She simply binds you with her Nen threads and sits quietly, watching you with an unreadable expression.

You try to speak, to explain, but her threads tighten immediately, cutting off your words.

"I don’t want to hear it"

Her voice is cold, emotionless. And yet, her eyes… there’s something there. Something like pain she refuses to acknowledge.

"You’re not leaving again."

She loosens her threads just enough to lean in, wrapping her arms around you in a way that is both possessive and heartbreakingly tender.

"I won’t let you"

Pakunoda

Pakunoda doesn’t scream. She doesn’t threaten. She doesn’t need to.

Instead, she sits beside you, crossing her legs, and looks at you with those sharp golden eyes that seem to see right through you.

"I want you to tell me why"

Her voice is calm. Too calm.

"Why would you betray us?"

When you try to answer, her hand gently cups your chin, forcing you to look at her.

"No lies. I’ll know"

Her fingers press against your forehead, and suddenly, memories flood your mind—not just yours, but hers. The way she had trusted you. The moments when she defended you to the others. The subtle warmth she had shown you, even when she didn’t need to.

"See, Y/N? You were one of us"

Her lips curve into something almost… sad.

"And now, you’ve broken something that can’t be fixed"

She stands up, walking to the door.

"I should kill you. But I won’t"

She glances back over her shoulder, eyes heavy with something unreadable.

"Instead, I’ll make sure you never forget what you lost"

The door closes behind her, and you realize—this isn’t mercy. This is a slow, suffocating punishment. One where she makes sure you drown in the weight of your own regret.

Shizuku

When you open your eyes, the first thing you notice is the soft rustling of paper. You blink, trying to clear your mind, until you see her: Shizuku, calmly sitting in front of you, flipping through a book as if nothing in the world could bother her.

"You're awake"

There’s no excitement in her voice, but at least she’s looking at you now.

You try to move and realize you’re tied up. A chill runs down your spine.

"Oh, right…" she murmurs, as if she had just now remembered you were her prisoner "Chrollo said we couldn’t kill you. So I brought you here"

She adjusts her glasses with a single finger and keeps staring at you, her expression… peaceful. As if she’s genuinely happy to see you like this.

"I’m glad. I didn’t want you to leave"

Her tone is simple, but there’s something unsettling about the way she says it. As if capturing you wasn’t a punishment, just a simple correction to the situation. As if fate had simply fixed your mistake of trying to escape.

"If you had just stayed with me from the beginning…" she lifts Deme-chan, idly stroking it "You wouldn’t have had to go through all this"

She leans in slightly, a faint smile on her lips.

"You know… I don’t understand a lot of things. But I know I love you"

Her words are soft, but her gaze is intense.

"And if I love you… that means you’re mine, right?"

She runs a finger along your cheek with a tenderness that makes the air feel heavy.

"If you try to leave again…"

She pauses, as if thinking about how to finish the sentence. But then, she just shrugs.

"Well, it doesn’t matter. You won’t"

Because in her mind, it’s already decided. There’s no other possibility. You’ve been caught, and in her innocently twisted logic, that means this is where you belong.

With her. Forever.

[hard-core-super-star]

you could love me if i knew how to lie [K.Bishop]

pairing: kate bishop x stark!reader

summary: after spending all your teenage years engaged in a somewhat unserious rivalry, kate bishop makes her way back into your life as the last thing you need: a security guard. maybe it'll be the push you need to admit your feelings for her...or maybe just an excuse to bicker with her.

warnings: none, i think?; brief mentions of past hookups; slight angst? [idk if it counts]; lots of bickering; a sprinke of exposition; tipsy confession; kate is totally NOT jealous; did not proofread this enough :/

wordcount: 2.9k

a/n: HI! so, a long while ago i wrote a mini-fic about kate and stark!reader. my plan was to turn that mini-fic into a full fic because i never liked how it turned out BUT instead...i wrote a sequel, set way further into the future [or i guess, the canon timeline?]. anyway, tony is dead, kate is hawkeye 'cause clint is fully retired, and she's the sole CEO/owner of bishop security while R is the CEO of stark industries. i'm planning to mess around more with this AU so let me know what you think! hope you enjoy, see you next time <3

* * * * * * *

Kate Bishop was a pain in your ass.

There was no other way to put it. No way to sugarcoat the place the brunette occupied in your life.

Sure, maybe you were being petty. Maybe there was no real reason for both of you to be at each other's throats besides your own competitive nature and your dad's penchant for snarky comments about his business rivals.

Then again, the young CEO wasn't exactly a rival. At least, not ever since she took over for her mom...and since Tony Stark died. A fact you try not to think about most days.

Needless to say, things haven't been the same since the snap. Since those five years came and went, leaving behind nothing but pain, confusion, and regret. Enough regret to fill up the entirety of Stark Tower with it.

Maybe losing your dad should have made you more grateful to be alive. To have the opportunity to help the world rebuild after Thanos. Maybe it would have had you not ended up just as cynical as Tony.

All you could think about was what you lost. The people and things you'd never be able to get back.

Maybe it was that train of thought that led you to take over Stark Industries. Sure, Pepper wanting nothing to do with the place had a lot to do with it too, but you could have let it go. Could have allowed her to sell it to Eleanor Bishop or whoever else she wanted to.

But you were just as stubborn as your dad. Maybe even more, considering how much you loved hanging out with Natasha and Steve.

So, instead of walking away like you should have, you took over the company. While you weren't exactly sure what running a company of this level entailed, you were your father's daughter and you had more than enough of his smarts to figure out what to do.

At least, you thought you did until some wannabe super villain threatened you.

You didn't think much of it when it happened, you were used to stupid threats made by even stupider people. It never amounted to anything in your experience so you didn't think twice when you decided to "respond" to the threats.

The response in question being a very unserious, sarcastic remark that earned you the front page of the New York Times. Naturally.

Unbeknownst to you, your little stunt also earned you the attention of your old "rival" turned superhero. Everything you'd heard about Kate had come from Yelena and your attempts at hacking her computer.

The years that had gone by didn't seem to matter to the brunette, though, at least considering the ease with which she broke into your apartment. You'd be surprised if you didn't know she was just as good at hacking as you. (Maybe Yelena had a point when she told you that you needed a security update, but you'd never admit that outloud.)

You let out the loudest sigh of your life when you walk into your living room only to find Kate Bishop herself standing in the middle of it, dorky superhero suit and all.

"Dang, don't look so excited," she says, the corners of her lips quirking up into a small smirk. Despite her efforts, you know her nervous tells too well to be fooled by her fake nonchalance.

"Don't sound so hurt," you reply. "You can't tell me you were expecting me to be happy to see you after everything."

The shrug your words receive looks so natural you almost believe her act. You know better than that, though. "I thought that's exactly why you wouldn't mind seeing me. It's been a long time."

She's not exactly wrong. As annoying as she can be, you have missed her. Going to boring, fancy events isn't the same when she's not there to bicker with you. Maybe it's childish, but it's the only thing you've known when it comes to the brunette.

Just long arguments over ridiculously expensive appetizers and loaded glances across ballrooms. That's all your relationship with her will ever be.

"Yeah, five years to be exact," you say, not even trying to hold in your bitterness. "Not that you ever showed any concern about what happened."

Her eyebrows furrow slightly, her mouth opening and closing a few times as she stumbles over her response. "I...didn't think you needed me to-"

"I didn't need you," you correct her, already feeling your blood boil. "I just thought you had a shred of decency. Guess I was wrong, hooking up with anything with a pulse seemed much more important to you."

Her jaw clenches, and you hate the rush of satisfaction you get from the sight. After what the two of you have been through, the last thing you should be doing is pushing her buttons, and yet here you are. As stupid as it may be, some things never change.

"You're the one that turned me away the last time I tried caring," she says, her voice far more serious than usual.

The reminder she sends your way is the last thing you need right now. Even though you know she's not doing it to hurt you, it still stings. Mainly because she's the one who never returned your calls. She's the one who continued hooking up with other people after spending the night wrapped up in your arms.

"A drunken hookup isn't exactly "caring", Katherine."

The brunette groans in response, throwing her head back in frustration and allowing you to see the long column of her throat. For a split second, you come up with a different idea to work through your frustrations. As appealing as it sounds, you know it'll just make things worse.

"How are you still so insufferable?" Kate asks, her voice straddling the line between annoyed and amused.

You shrug. "It's a skill."

Her annoyance seems to clear for a second, like clouds parting to make way for the shining sun. "Yeah, right. You're something else, that's for sure."

Her words are technically a tease, but they soften you up all the same. They shouldn't, they should infuriate you, make you want to throw her out of your apartment and never talk to her again. They don't, though.

But instead of showing it, you decide to change the topic. The sooner you figure out what the hell she wants, the quicker she'll leave you and your bitter past with her alone.

"What do you want, Kate?" You ask with a sigh.

Her eyes linger on your face for a second too long before she answers. "Nothing. I'm just here to keep an eye on you before you do something else stupid."

"I don't need a guard dog," you reply.

She rolls her eyes, matching your energy far too quickly for your liking. "I'm not a dog, but you do need a guard. Running your mouth like that is only going to get you hurt."

You scoff. "I can handle myself just fine."

"Sorry, princess, I have direct orders from Yelena to keep you safe until this all blows over."

Of course, Yelena sent the archer to you. You're not sure if it's truly an "Avengers" thing, or if it's simply the Russian being an overprotective friend. Either way, there's no way for you to get rid of Kate which means...you're stuck with her, whether you like it or not.

"Fine," you huff, sounding far too much like your teenage self. "But don't think this means you're forgiven or anything. We're still not friends."

Even though a smile tugs at her lips, there's no mistaking the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. The longing you know all too well. "Yeah, I know."

As weird (and slightly uncomfortable) as it is, you move toward your kitchen with the archer following right on your tail. You're not a fan of the idea, or of having her breathing down your neck all the time, but complaining will just make things more difficult. And even though you're particularly known for being difficult, you're actually trying to not make things worse.

It's much easier said than done and yet...you and Kate actually start working toward some sort of normal. Well, there's nothing normal about having her following behind you like a puppy all the time but you can't say you don't like it.

You vow to not admit it, to not let her know just how nice it is to be around her. Just how much you've missed seeing her.

You're pretty sure it's your worst kept secret but thankfully, Kate can be quite oblivious most of the time. It's probably something to do with how much attention her constant rambling requires.

However, after weeks of keeping your act together, of pretending like you don't notice the looks she sends your way or the constant brushing of her hand against yours, you break. Or well, she breaks.

Despite her attempts at trying to keep you inside, you go out to bar with a few people from Stark Industries, using the excuse of some stupid business meetings to convince her. She knows it's a stupid excuse. That despite your insistance that you're there to talk business, you're really just looking for a way to put some distance between you.

It's not the worst plan in the world, and, at first, it works perfectly. Kate escorts you into the bar and then leaves you alone with your friends, giving you space to go back to some sort of normality even while the threat of someone attacking you lingers as a possibility.

Ultimately, it's not an attacker who approaches you during your night out. It's simply a decently dressed guy that tries far too hard to charm you.

He ignores your attempts at kindly declining the drink he offers to buy you and when his hand wraps a bit too tightly around your arm, Kate appears at your side.

"We should go," she says, her tone leaving no room for arguments.

The insistent guy opens his mouth to try but before he even knows what's happening, the brunette peels his hand off of you and leads you away.

You're not necessarily mad about it, the guy was being way too annoying and slightly creepy. That being said...you're also not about to let Kate think she can step in like that when she's not told to.

You try to escape from her grip but she simply holds on tighter, looking back to glare at you as she continues leading you through the throng of people.

"Kate," you warn, easily meeting her glare with one of your own. "What are you doing?"

The way her grip on you tightens is telling enough but you need to hear the words from her lips. "That guy was flirting with you."

You barely hold back the urge to roll your eyes, her habit of being far too blunt in moments of stress growing less endearing every time. "Yeah, I noticed. What's the problem with that?"

For once, Kate's actually speechless.

She opens and closes her mouth at least five times, making disgruntled noises that don't even border on words. You're equal parts annoyed, amused, and endeared (even if you'd rather not admit it).

"He's clearly a creep!" She finally says as if that will clear things up.

And maybe it does. Maybe it clears everything up and makes perfect sense. Maybe it means you should stop fighting against the truth that's been chasing you since you were a teenager. 

You're just as stubborn as Kate when you want to be, though. It doesn't matter how obvious it is that telling her how you feel is what you need, you'll ignore it forever if you have to. Even when it proves less than optimal for your mental health.

After a moment, you settle on an answer. "How can you possibly know that?"

"You can always tell, their eyes give them away."

You can't stop yourself from laughing in response. "As if you don't spend half the time you're with me ogling my chest."

"That's different!" She exclaims, clearly both embarrased and annoyed.

"Hardly."

She groans, although you're not sure if she's annoyed with you or with herself. "That's not the point! The point is he was being weird and it's my job to protect you."

In any other situation, her words would be sweet. Even now, there's no denying the way your heart skips a beat at the sound of them. Despite this, though, you still decide to hold onto your bitterness.

"You know, I'm more than just a stupid Avengers mission. Just because you've been jealous of me your whole life-"

"Jealous? Who says I was jealous?"

Her response genuinely surprises you. You can't tell if she's serious or not so you decide to bite despite your better judgement.

"Um...everyone? Even your mom. Everyone said you were jealous because your dream was to be an Avenger. You didn't understand how much pain it brought, how difficult it was to be involved with that kind of life. How little I wanted to do with it."

It's your last sentence that seems to strike a chord with her.

She stops in her tracks, using her grip on you to maneuver you until you're in front of her. Until you can't hide from her knowing gaze.

"Wait, is that why you've always hated me?" She asks, her head tilting to the side in a far too adorable show of confusion. "Because I asked you about the Avengers, once?"

It doesn't matter how badly you want to stay mad, she has a way of scrambling all your thoughts before you even know what's happening. Although, the few drinks in your system might have a lot more to do with that than her stupid puppy dog eyes.

"It was more than once!" You exclaim. "All you cared about was talking about Iron Man."

The second the words leave your lips, you feel ridiculously silly. It's like all the stupid things you did as a petulant teenager come back to haunt you in an instant. You wouldn't say you regret them (Kate can be a real pain in the ass when she wants to be) but you are embarrased by them.

"y/n..." Kate trails off, looking equal parts amused and confused. "You're actually serious?"

It would be easily to lie again. To make a joke, shrug it off, and pretend like nothing happened. Like you weren't so close to admitting how you feel.

For some reason...you can't bring yourself to do it. It makes no sense to you and yet, the answer rushes out of your mouth before you can even try to stop it.

"Well...yeah." You shrug. "I had a crush back then, y'know?"

"WHAT?"

You know where her surprise is coming from but all it does is make you want to shrink into yourself again. To ignore her once more until you go back to way things have always been. To the annoyance and the snarky comments and the comfortable distance you've always managed to keep.

"Whatever," you huff, shrugging her off of you. "It doesn't matter anymore."

You try to walk away, to put some distance between you before you continue revealing truths you've successfully kept hidden all your life. Kate's too stubborn for that, of course, so her hands grip your waist before you can get too far, easily moving you backward until you hit a wall.

"Say it again." Her voice is so low it almost startles you.

"What?" It's impossible to stop yourself from sounding breathless...or from allowing your eyes to dip down to her lips.

"The truth, y/n," she says. "Tell me the truth."

It's almost hilarious how quickly you melt for her. All it takes is a low tone to her voice and a sharp gaze from this close proximity for your legs to shake underneath you.

Deep down, you know where it's really coming from. Whether you want to admit it or not, you've spent the last five years aching to tell her the truth. That despite the way you've always acted, you feel so much for her. And hatred is the last thing on that list.

"You're insuferable," you reply. "Almost as insuferable as my crush on you."

As soon as the words leave your mouth, the tension in Kate's frame dissapears. Her grip on you loosens somewhat but she doesn't step away form you. If anything, she moves closer.

"I thought you hated me."

"Well, maybe a little at first. You were really annoying back then." She laughs, the sound so warm it makes you blush. "I think I still am. And an idiot apparently." 

"We already knew that, though."

For the first time in a long time, there's no bite to your words. No real fire to feed Kate's competitive streak. Just...the smallest amount of real affection. The kind that comes from knowing someone for almost all your life.

"Wish I knew you liked me sooner," the archer says, leaning in the slightest bit. "I would have kissed you and saved us all this trouble."

You roll your eyes, even though a part of you appreciates her cheesy flirting. "You did kiss me, actually. And it only made everything worse."

She's silent for a moment before a smirk forms on her lips. "Maybe we can try it again. Let me fix what went wrong last time."

Just because she's clearly being a flirt doesn't mean she isn't being genuine. It's easier said than done, but maybe...maybe you two have a chance of working things out. Of finally putting your pride aside and accepting how you feel.

"Stop being an awful flirt and kiss me, Bishop."

It's surprising, but she actually listens to you for once, and before you know it, her lips are on yours and nothing else matters.

Including the danger that lurks in the shadows of your periphery.

[rafesslxt]

Hiii! I love your work! I was wondering if you could write something where Mattheo and the reader are enemies with sexual tension and one day their friends lock them in a room together and won’t let them out till they fuck and they eventually do?

Thank you!!

Hii love, love the idea, hope u have fun reading. Thank you for your request 🤍☁️

SAY YOU HATE ME | m. riddle

summary: reader and mattheo hate each other so their friends lock them together in a room

warnings: pure filthy smut!, enemy‘s to lovers, insults, arguing, dirty talk, unprotected p in v, rough, fingering, sucking on fingers, coming inside reader

words: 3,1k

When Pansy, Draco and Blaise told me they have a suprise for me, I wasn‘t really convinced and sure it was some kind of prank but I also wasn‘t a quitter or a party booper so I sighed and let Pansy put the blindfold over my eyes like she wanted to.

She grabs me by my arm and starts leading me through our common room. We walk for like 5 minutes until they stop and tell me to be quit. I nod and take a deep breath when I hear them open a door. Pansy gently pushes me forwards and I can hear her smile while saying "Have fun you two." My eyebrows furrow together. What does she mean 'you two' ? I hear the door closing behind me with a few giggles so I take my blindfold off and turn towards the door. "What the hell guys?" I yell through the door.

"Oh so that's their plan." I suddenly hear someone say behind me. I spin around, seeing Mattheo Riddle sitting on the edge of a bed. "What the fuck are you doing here?" I ask him, my eyes looking at him and then around the room we're in.

"First of all, we're in my room , so I could ask you the same. Second, isn't it obvious to you what they're trying to do?" "Oh hell no!" Angry I walk back to the door and bang against it with my hands. "Pansy! let me out!" I hear them whispering behind the door before Lorenzo's voice speaks up. "You two will not get out until you talk about your problems." "Yeah or fuck them out." I hear Draco laughing. "Draco!" Pansy hisses.

"Guy's this isn't funny! I have things to do!" I answer, hoping they would do the right thing. But who am I kidding? "No what really isn't funny is how you two always argue with each other and ruin the vibe in our friend group for years now! So talk or never get out of there!" Blaise answers and I can basically hear him rolling his eyes before they disappear from the door.

I turn around then and look at Mattheo. "This is your fault! I hope you know that." I bitch at him, sitting on the other bed in the room that is Theodore's. He starts laughing and looks at me as If I have 3 heads. "Are you kidding me? If someone is responsible for this then it's you! You're the one who always acts like a bitch to me." "Hm, maybe I wouldn't act like a bitch If you wouldn't be such a pain in the ass with your stupid comments all day long."

He raises his eyebrows and leans forwards, his elbows on his knees now. "Oh you think so? Maybe I wouldn't have to leave stupid comments If you would consider using your brain for even a second."

My eyes widen at his comment. "Excuse me? You're just mad about the fact that I'm the only fucking girl in this school who isn't on her knees for you! Sorry Mattheo, not every woman thinks you're it."

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head at me, making his curls bounce slightly over his forehead. "This is ridiculous. As If I would even want you to be on your knees for me." I scoff at that. "Yeah why should you, right? Your type is dumb and brainless. Oh sorry, I forgot whore."

I see his face getting red and his jaw clenching. Suddenly he stands and walks over to me until he stands in between my legs, making me widen my eyes at him. He leans forward and speaks "What is your problem y/n? Why are you so fucking nice to everyone, acting like a little angel but are the biggest bitch the next second. Only to me of course. What is it that bugs you so much huh?" he breathes against my face, looking right into my shocked eyes.

"I - I just told you - you're always a pain -" "- in the ass. I know. But Draco is too. And I don't see you bitching at him like you do at me." "That's different. Draco is Pansy's boyfriend and I have respect for that." He scoffs at my excuse and to be honest, he was right. But why should I tell him?

"You know.. I kinda get a feeling, that you do want to be one of them." he starts, looking intensely at my lips. I swallow and look into his dark eyes. "One of who?" A smirk plays on his lips when he gets closer, making me back away a little until I'm just supporting myself with my elbows behind me, his body leaning over mine but not touching it. I feel his body heat around mine, my cheeks getting a little flushed at the warmth. He grins and answers me." " Dumb, brainless... a whore."

I gasp at his comment but before I could protest he speaks again. "Maybe then you would have a chance with me. Maybe that's why you're mad at me. Because your little brain always gets in the way and If it would just shut up for a second, then maybe you would have a chance." My eyes almost get stuck at the back of my head at how hard I just rolled them. "First of all, that doesn't even make sense. And like I said. I don't want you."

Then I feel his right hand on my waist, slowly tracing the bare skin on there due to my short crop top. "Then why are your cheeks blushing? Why aren't you pushing me away? You're so locked into my eyes that you're just laying under me like a little helpless thing." I swallow down the clump in my throat at his words. He'r right? Why am I still under him? Normally I would have smacked the shit out of him.

"See." he starts with a smirk. "You do want this. Me. You're just too stubborn to admit that I get under your skin all the time because you want me." I breath get's stuck in my lungs when I feel his fingers on my waist wandering over my stomach. "And you know what's the worst part of it? I just want you as much as you want me. I wanna taste every single part of your body." he whispers against my lips, now just an inch away from mine. "What?" I whisper back in shock. He want's me? What the hell is going on? Did they slip something in his drink too? Is that the actual prank? Him pretending to want me?

"You heard right.." his lips get away from my face again, switching towards the side of my throat. ".. I want you so fucking bad. And you're making me go crazy with your stupid comments all the time. Every time we're with our friends and you start insulting me, I just want to pull you near the first surface possible and fuck you stupid in front of them." After that his lips meet the skin of my neck, a gasp leaving my lips at the sudden contact. His breath was warm and his lips so so soft. Goosebumps erupt over my whole body instantly.

"Mattheo.." I whisper as a warning, but for what I don't know. "What? Are you scared that I'm right? Scared that you will let those walls down? That you let me take you?" I yelp when he bites down on my neck, leaving a light mark. "Come on.. tell me you hate me."

I want t, but I can't. The words just won't leave my mouth when my eyes start closing at the pleasure he's giving me on my neck. I starts kissing down towards my collarbone, nibbling at my skin here and there. Involuntary I arch my back, pressing my body against his.

His mouth moves down to my cleavage, kissing the top of my breasts. "Fuck you taste so good, y/n. Tell me you want this." I remain silent until he pinches my nipples lightly through my top, a whimper leaving my mouth.

"Tell me you want this too or I will stop. Come on baby." The little hairs on my neck raise when he calls me that. I slowly nod, my eyes still closed. "Words. I need words. And open your eyes for me." I slowly open them, looking right into his when I do so. "Say it.." he whispers against my lips, grazing them with his own. "I - I want you too." I finally say, putting a smirk on his face before he presses his lips against mine, his left hand finding my cheek.

The kiss is passionate and longing, leaving no air in our lungs. "Fuck, this is gonna be so so good." he groans against me, climbing on top of me now fully.

He pushes my legs apart with his knees, settling between them afterwards. When he lets go of my lips, breathing heavy, he works his way down with his mouth again, starting at my chest. I bite down on my lip and let my hands go through his curls, pulling on some strands. He groans when I pull, his hands roaming up my body until he squeezes my tits through my top. They slowly push my top upwards until my chest is completely exposed. He looks down at me and grins satisfied. "Fuck how could you hide that for so long from me baby? You're killing me." he groans and I see him pushing his hips down against the mattress for some friction. I think this is the hottest thing I've ever seen in my life. Mattheo grinding against the mattress because he's hard for me.

He starts massaging my tits, leaning down with his mouth, sucking on my nipple. "Oh -" I press my lips together, trying to be quiet. I pull harder on his hair, making him groan and grind against the mattress again. God help me.

"If you keep pulling on my hair like that I'm not gonna last another second." he breathes out when he lets go of my nipple. A grin forms on my lips when I suddenly got my confidence back. " Oh so you mean you will last longer than a minute?" He frowns at me before leaning down again and biting my nipple, while playing with the other one. "Mattheo!" I hiss loudly making him laugh devilish against my skin.

"I don't know If I want you to scream my name or shutting the fuck up." he chuckles when he starts pulling down my skirt. "How about you shut the fuc-" before I could finish my sentence he stuffs two fingers into my mouth. "Use your mouth for something good and suck baby." I roll my eyes but still do as he says. I run my tongue around the top of his fingers playfully, smiling while doing so.

I gasp when I feel his other hand on my clothed pussy. "Shit, you're soaked y/n. Fucking dripping." he says with his jaw hanging down and his eyes on my private part.

With two fingers he pulls my panties down, making me gasp at the cold air against my wetness. "You make me go crazy, you know that? Bet you're so tight - oh fuck yeah." he moans when he slowly enters me with his fingers he used to pull my underwear down. You could hear the wetness all over the room. I bit down on his fingers when he starts to pump them in and out faster. "Hm yeah fucking moan for me, come on." he bites down on his lip while watching my lips wrapped around his fingers. I buckle my hips when his thumb starts teasing my clit, only touching it for a short moment before letting go of it. I indeed moan around his fingers, closing my eyes.

"I'm so hard for you I can't believe it myself." he mumbles to himself, leaning down so his breath hits my clit, pulling a whimper from me this time. He pulls his fingers out of my mouth and I hear them working his belt. "Mattheo please.." "What baby? Talk to me.." "Mhh I need more.. wanna feel you." I completely forget my pride while he fucks me with his fingers.

"Wanna feel my cock inside you? That's what you want?" "Fuck yes - please!" He pulls his fingers out of me, smiling when I whine in protest. I look up at him and see him sucking my juices off his fingers, making my stomach flip. "Taste so good princess." he groans and bites his bottom lip after pulling his fingers out of his mouth.

I watch him puling his pants down his legs, kicking them somewhere in the room. He pulls his shirt over his head, making me gasp in surprise. I knew he is fit but that fit? "Wanna take a picture?" he asks me cockily. "You wish." I scoff but smile as I see him smiling too.

I look down at him and gulp when I see the outline of his cock. "Don't worry baby, you're so wet for me It will fit without any trouble." He grabs my ankles and pulls me towards the edge of the bed. He places my legs over his shoulders, groaning again. " If I knew all these things about you I would have fucked you way earlier. For example how flexible you are." I giggle and raise my eyebrows. "I have a lot more hidden talents." "I bet." he says with a heavy breath, taking his cock into his hand and teasing my clit with his tip, brushing it over it again and again. "Mattheo.." I whine, desperate to feel him.

"I want you to beg me, just likee the little whore you are." he grins wickedly at me, using my words against me. he starts dragging his tip over my pussy, pushing it against my entrance but not enough to enter me. "Please fuck me Mattheo, please. I need to feel you, please."

He doesn't waste a second, pushing his whole length into me. "Oh my god!" I almost scream, feeling him in places I thought would't even be possible. Mattheo groans, squeezing his eyes shut, his mouth wide open. "Oh you're so fucking tight, unbelievable." He starts moving his hips in a fast pace, thrusting harder against me every time a moan or whine leaves my lips.

"You feel so good - so fucking good inside of me - fuck." I star babbling, only spurting Mattheo on. "Yeah baby, that's it. Just feel how my cock feels inside you tight little cunt. Such a pretty pussy for me." I let out a loud whine and start to claw into his back.

"Harder." he groans, his left hand finding it way around my throat. I dig my nails deeper into his skin making him chuckle deeply and smile down at me with dark eyes. Oh shit. His grip around my throat tightens, making me even wetter, " You like that, baby? Who would have thought that our little angel is such a whore for me huh?"

His hips start to move even faster than before, hitting my cervix at some point. "Oh Mattheo -" I choke out between some broken sobs. I don't know when the last time was where someone fucked me this good.

He laughs like the devil himself and says "what baby? thought you do't want me hm?" I squeeze my eyes shut as I feel a deep feeling inside my tummy. "Fuck I feel your little pussy squeezing me, you're close?" I just nod and gasp.

He slowly down to which I whine in protest. "No, no please Mattheo. Don't stop, please." I beg him without a second thought.

"Tell me you hate me again. Come on." I shake my head and groan in frustration. "Why not?" "I - I can't" He grins in satisfaction and picks up the pace from before. My walls start clenching around him, my hips buckling up against him widely and without a rhythm. "Scream my name." Mattheo." "Louder, fucking louder so they hear how we talked about our problems." he grins. "Fuck, Mattheo!" Then it hits me, like a wave crashing over me when I come around his cock, spasming around him.

"God you're milking me, baby." he moans when he feels me around him. While my head get's dizzy and I only see starts around me, he gets even faster and rougher, making me whimper now that I'm so sensitive. "Fucking come again." he demands, his tone deeper now. " I - I can't Mattheo. I'm so sensitive." I whimper when he rubs my clit again and fucks me shard that the headboard of the bed crushes against the wall. Oh they could definitely hear us.

"I promise you can baby, come on, It will feel so good princess. Just one more, for me." he says, working his finger so delicious against me. My lip trembles when he pulls a second orgasm from me, leaving me a whimpering mess under him. "Fuck yes, yes." His movements lose their rhythm, pumping his cock into me with zero control.

"Nhg baby I'm gonna come - fuck - where -" "come inside me." I say, still feeling like I'm on a cloud. He let's out a quite whimper before coming, but I still heard it. Then I feel his hot cum inside me, his body falling on top of mine while he still ruts against me. "Shit.." he breathes out heavily when he slowly comes down from his high.

I see him swallowing when he looks down at me. "I'm gonna die If this is a one - time thing." he says, making my heart miss a beat.

"It's not." I whisper against his lips before kissing him with a smile. He slowly pulls out of me, we both look down. I see him smirking when his cum leaks out of me.

Suddenly the door opens, both of our heads turning towards it. We see our friends standing in the doorway with confused looks and mouth wide open. The only one that looked smug about it was Draco. " Told you so." he chuckles. "Wow.." Enzo whispers looking at us. "I think I hate you too, y/n." he says. Mattheo pulls the bedsheets over us and growls at him. " You wish." "What the fuck! Why on my bed?" Theo yells, making all of us burst out in laughter.

Thank you for reading! I think this is one of my favorites I wrote 😭🫶🏻

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