#why is he treated like this even when it's nothing ?????

[evie-sturns]

avoid - Matt Sturniolo

summary: when matt calls you out on you pushing him away, until a huge fight breaks out between the two of you. a couple hours later you find him a mess, you have no choice but to make things right.

contains: angst, crying, arguing, yelling, fluff, comforting, swearing.

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you didn't realise you were doing it, you just were.

you had accidentally been avoiding him and pushing him away for the past couple of weeks, there wasn't a specific reason but you just were.

9:04pm

i'm laying on the couch alone, watching some random romcom as i stare at the screen.

the floorboards creak as i hear matt coming down the hallway, his footsteps are heavy as he approaches the living room.

he stands in the doorway, just observing me for a couple of seconds.

i hear his lips part as he gets ready to speak.

"y/n..?" he mutters softly, his voice is weak and shy.

i hum quietly as a response, not even diverting my gaze away from the bright screen. i hear matt huff slightly, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

"what- why- can you at least look at me when im speaking?" matt scoffs.

"what difference does it make?" i mumble back, still staring at the television.

"makes me think you might actually give a shit about me still." matt spits, his arms fold over his chest as he leans against the doorway,

"pfft." i dismiss him which only sets matt off even more.

"why are you acting like this? seriously!" matt exclaims,

"why are you being so sensitive." i groan,

i know i’m being annoying as shit, but i can’t help it, i’m just doing what i can to tick him off.

matt just stares at me, his breathing heavy as i see him visibly start fuming.

“you wanna know what it is? you’ve been acting like a total stranger for the past couple months and i’m done with it, i’m done with you.” matt raises his voice

i stand up off the couch, standing a couple feet away from matt as i lock eyes with him,

“me? i’ve been acting like i stranger?” i laugh dryly, not cause this situation is amusing, i’m just in shock.

“yes! you’ve been treating me like crap for the past too long!” matt keeps his voice raises,

i point my finger at his chest as i walk closer to him, “you cannot be serious? i literally do everything for you? i gave up so many things for more time with you!”

“i didn’t ASK you to do that! nobody did!” he scoffs loudly, grabbing my wrist and yanking it away from his chest.

“so it meant nothing to you? clearly you’re not appreciating my love for y-“

matt cuts me off,

“don’t even. you’re trying to make me feel bad when i’m literally trying to talk to you about my feelings!”

his eyes are narrow slits now, his fingers wrapped tightly around my wrist.

“let me go, now.” i mutter angrily,

“just listen to me!” he spits, moving his hand off of my wrist to grab my shoulders,

he jolts me back and forth harshly,

“i fucking hate this new attitude of yours, you’re the most self centred bitch ever!” matt shouts,

his voice booms through my living room, making my heart race quicken.

“would you just shut up- shut up!” i scream,

matt shoves me back gently, not enough to actually hurt me, just enough to get his point enough.

“you’re just- you’re just being ridiculous?” matt mutters, turning on his heels and walking away from me.

“i fucking hate you! i hope you get that through your thick head!” i snap

i didn’t mean it.

not at all.

i was so angry, just doing anything i could to be mean.

i hear matt’s heavy footsteps as he walks up the stairs, followed by the door slamming shut.

i flop down on the couch, running a hand through my hair as i pant.

i don’t know why i said any of that.

(35 minutes later)

i’ve just been thinking for the past half hour, about things i shouldn’t have said, things i shouldn’t of done.

i’ve held back all my emotions, feeling somewhat numb, except for the intense feeling of guilt gnawing away at me

the whole house has been eerily silent, usually it would be filled with matt and i’s endless giggles, but it’s not.

i stand up off the couch, my legs somewhat wobbly and my stomach churning with immense guilt.

i need to talk to him,

i drag my feet over to the bottom of the stairwell, knowing matt’s at the top of the stairs, locked away in our bedroom.

one step,

after another,

i slowly walk up the stairs.

my heart pounds against my rib cage, not knowing what matt would say, nor think, when he saw me in the doorway,

the same person that just screamed at him, making him believe that i hated him.

i reach his door, my hand stalling on the doorknob as i let out a soft sigh.

i couldn’t bring myself to just twist the doorknob, my hand was lightly shaking.

i swallow harshly before twisting the knob,

i stand in the doorway, looking around the dimly lit room.

there’s a discomforting feeling in the air, the room is cold.

my eyes search around the room until they land on matt.

he’s laying down on the bed, his back facing me and his still.

is he asleep?

“matt..?” i call out quietly, my voice breaking.

i walk over to the bed, my footsteps light.

suddenly i hear him,

a choked sob escapes him.

he’s crying?

i made him cry,

matt’s never cried infront of me before

and i’m the reason he now has.

“baby- are you crying-?” i whisper, reaching down and brushing his hair away from his eyes. he shivers at my touch, rolling over so his face is buried in the pillow.

i quickly crawl into bed beside him.

“please- please don’t cry-“ i mutter, my tone is panicked as i reach for him.

i sit up against the headboard as he stays buried in the pillows beside me, letting out strangled sobs.

“please look at me- darling i am so sorry, seriously.” i speak softly, my voice just loud enough so it’s audible to him

“matt, look at me please.” i say, my tone shaky as my voice cracks again.

he gently lifts his face from the pillows,

i take the opportunity to grab him, and tug him to sit up beside me.

i run my hands through his messy hair, he looks like a wreck, i feel terrible.

his eyes are swollen, his lips are a deep red and puffy and tears roll down his pale cheeks.

i grab his hands, “matt,” i sigh, “y-you’re killing me.”

matt stares down at the bed, “can- can i have a hug?” he whispers with a small hiccup.

“of course you can have a hug.” i sigh, wrapping my arms around him and pulling his body flush against mine.

i hold him close to me as i lay down on the bed, his head buried in my chest.

he sniffs shakily as he just cries, letting everything out.

i can still feel the undeniable tension in the air,

we’re both so angry at eachother still, it’s hard not to be after argument like that.

“hey, it’ll be okay- we’ll be okay.” i whisper, running my fingers through his locks of hair.

he lets out another sob against me, the noise making my heart break.

“you’re gonna make me cry.” i whisper with a small sigh, holding the back of his head gently.

“sorry.” he sniffles.

i hold him in my arms, whispering small words of affirmation while matt slowly starts to calm down.

i fight back the tears in my eyes as i attempt to stay strong for him.

“could we- talk maybe?” matt sniffs, wiping his eyes on my shirt before slowly lifting himself away from me.

he sits up on the headboard beside me, his legs outstretched and his hands still gently shaking.

“i think we need to.” i nod,

we both sit in silence for a second, waiting for one person to start.

“i know i was-“ i start but matt interrupts me,

“can i go first- i just want to tell you… how i’ve been feeling.” he rambles, his voice cracking.

i nod, “yeah..”

matt starts,

“i mean it when i say you’ve been stupidly distant for the past months, everytime i try to initiate anything with you, i just get brushed off, all of our conversations are shallow and i can’t tell if you actually care about me anymore!”

i stare at him as he rambles, trying to take all of his words to heart without getting mad again.

“i love you so much, and it’s hurting me to see you slowly drift away from me, i just want to know what i did wrong..?” he follows on, swallowing harshly,

i nod slightly, my lips parting to speak but no words coming out.

“i’m not trying to push you away matt.” i whisper,

he goes to speak but i interrupt, “i think it’s just a mix of everything, i’m just so exhausted with work after half my coworkers quit, i’ve been working long hours and i don’t mean to push you away, i swear.” i ramble on,

matt nods slightly with understanding, his hands fidgeting in his lap.

“i love you so much matt, and i’m trying to do better, i promise.” i finish,

matt just looks at me, before finally nodding.

he lets out a breath, one that i can tell took a weight off his shoulders.

“i’m sorry about the argument.” matt says,

i shake my head, “no i was being a pain on purpose, it could’ve been avoided if i acted differently.”

“i came at you with like a confronting tone- i should’ve approached it better.” he speaks,

“and i also shouldn’t have laid my hands on you, i didn’t mean for it to ever get physical..” matt whispers, his eyebrows furrowing as he breaks eye contact with me,

“it’s okay, i needed it-“ i try to defend his actions but he cuts me off,

“no- no that was a shitty thing for me to do, i feel super guilty about it.” he sighs,

the room goes silent, my heart aches as i try to apologise for that one thing i said, the 3 words that exited my mouth, which is now eating me alive.

“i’m sorry- for saying i hate you.. i- i don’t i swear, it wasn’t true at all i was just saying it to make you mad- i promise, i love you more than life itself.” i spit it out.

matt’s gaze softens,

my eyes well up with tears, “i shouldn’t have said that, i’m so sorry-“ i whisper out,

matt reaches his hands up to my face, his hands caressing my cheeks and his thumbs wipe my eyes quickly.

“no tears.” he gently coos,

“i’m so sorry- i fucked up so bad-“ i continue, but matt cuts me off.

he presses his lips to mine, his hands still firmly on the sides of my face.

he rolls us over so he’s ontop of me, keeping our lips connected.

i kiss back, distracting myself from the swirling thoughts in my head.

after a few moments he pulls away from my lips with a small ‘pop’.

a warm smile appears on his face as he peppers kisses all over my face.

i squirm with a giggle as his pecks kisses all over me, before pressing a final peck to my lips.

“we’ll always talk things out next time, i promise this won’t happen again.” he whispers comfortingly, his hands gently running through my hair.

i nod in agreement, “i love you.”

“love you too sweetie.” he whispers, before going back to peppering kisses all over my face.

-

@sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s @ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl girl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @jamiesturniolo o @chrisstopherfilmed @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees @certifiednatelover er @solarsturniolo lo @mattsenthusiast t @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0tripletzz @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @mattsonlybitch @justalittle47 @sunsetsturniolos

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[astralis-ortus]

spoiled

✱ boyfriend!bc x gn!reader

— it really is in the little things he does.

w.count → 0.5k genre → slice of life, fluff notes → chan referred to as chris, reader referred to as babe, teeny weenie kith a.n → been feeling sappy whenever i see chan, and what’s the best cure if not to write about it♡ ⋆ see masterlist

growing up, you never really thought much about relationships.

well, it's not like you had the breathing room to do so anyway—with your parents' strained relationship and the way education had taken over the role as your safe space, the thought about crushes, falling in love, and jumping from one relationship to another like people around your age had resembled more like some faint, annoying whispers from the nether world rather than something you needed to experience as a young adult. instead, your goal revolves simply around graduating, getting a good job, and sticking with that—nothing more, nothing less.

well, that's exactly what you've managed to do so far…

with some minor adjustments.

"babe, do you want—oh, you're about to shower?"

you stopped a few steps from the door of the bathroom, eyes finding your boyfriend's curious pair just beyond the bedroom door while your arms hugged the fresh pair of pyjamas and a fluffy towel chris had bought for you a few months prior, right before your first sleepover at his place.

it still feels wild to you, the way chris just popped into your life one day and somehow managed to stay. the fact that you let him? even wilder. never in a million years would you ever thought you'd walk into your first and somewhat of a serious relationship not long after landing your first actual job, fresh out of university.

"yeah," you nodded, repeatedly blinking your eyes out of habit, "do you need to go? i might take a while since i'm gonna wash my hair."

"no no, i'm good," he replied, no longer looking at you when he turned busy, fumbling away at the cabinet under his kitchen sink, "but wait, there's something i want—found it!"

the curiosity in your eyes turned into sparkles of surprise when you noticed the rather familiar bottle in chris' hand as he heads over in your direction, sweet pair of dimples decorating his proud, cheeky smile.

"i got that body wash you said you wanted to try," handing the green colored bottle, chris lightly scrunched his nose alongside the click of his tongue, "kinda unfortunate—i was going to surprise you with it, but you beat me to the shower."

it's at times like this when you feel like your life in the past year has merely been a series of lucid dreams—when he looked at you with so much tenderness in his eyes, when he treats you like you're his entire world and more, when chris went out of his way just to prove that he meant everything he whispered in your ears between the ungodly hours of the night as he held you close when nightmares crept its long and sharp nails around your neck.

chris' affection still feels like a fever dream, and you don't know if you deserve to be at the receiving end of it at all.

"you're seriously spoiling me way too much, christopher," you finally chirped a response, mirroring your boyfriend's nose scrunch whilst keeping your unspoken worries locked away, "but thank you. i promise i'll use it well."

"i know you will," the dimpled smile made its way back to your boyfriend's features, igniting the familiar fuzzy feeling in the depths of your chest, and its rumble only grew louder when chris leaned in, faint scent of vanilla greeted you as he stole a peck from your lips,

"you know that's why i love spoiling you, right?"

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[amazinglyashy]

hello!! can I request fluff reactions of the boys to mc craving something to eat in the middle of the night?

thank youu have a good day 🥰

I'm laughing because you asked this like it would be the most off the cuff situation, when literally every single one of these men canonly have an awful sleep schedule and nighttime habits. Like, there is absolutely nothing weird about this at all except the fact that you're awake when they're awake.

LaDS men when you crave something to eat in the middle of the night -

Zayne -

In all honestly, he was just now getting home from a shift at Akso hospital, so it takes him just a few moments to register why the situation in front of him was abnormal.

He can't help it, he's usually coming home in the early evening, not at three in the morning.

So when he sees you sitting at the counter, snacking on something, he simply sets his stuff down near the door and removes his tie, before coming over to give you a peck on the cheek in greeting.

He's made it halfway to the bathroom, yawning wide and telling himself to get some good sleep tonight- well, technically this morning- wait… morning…? What on earth were you doing up-

He's back in the kitchen in a second, with your eyes flickering back to him in an innocent question, confused as to why he's looking at you so bewildered.

'Why', is the only thing that comes out of his mouth, and when you finally process what he means by that, you can't help but give him a chuckle and a smile, still eating whatever you had gotten from the fridge or cupboard.

"I was hungry."

Not even going to question why you acted on your impulses to eat at three in morning. He'll just sigh, and tell you to make sure you get to bed soon for the sake of your health and mood tomorrow. Gives you one more kiss before heading off to get ready for bed himself.

Sylus -

He's probably just getting up.

So when he starts to rise and notices you lying awake, he's going to be confused, hoping to himself that you didn't have some freakish nightmare, especially not any possibly involving your past experiences with him-

No.

Turns out, you're currently trying to make yourself go back to sleep, despite wanting something warm to eat, but also not wanting to cook.

He's going to find it terribly endearing, letting out a little snicker and making you blush at his reaction, his hand carding through your hair as he leans down over you.

"I think you're forgetting something, kitten. I wake up around this time- meaning, I need to have something for breakfast before working on anything. You do know you can ask the chef to make you something right now, right sweetie?"

He won't say it, but you can tell he's so pleased to be eating with you, even though he knows you'll be heading off to bed right after, it's a nice change of pace for him. He's more than happy to have your company, no matter the odd hour.

Rafayel -

He's finally ready to kick himself into going to bed, but the moment he opens the bedroom door, he runs into you.

At first, he's worried.

Secondly, he's miffed that you got up to come and harrass him into coming to bed again.

Thirdly, he's extra miffed that none of the previous answers are true, but you're actually just hungry.

He's seen the way you snack, he knows you're not just making something up. And he can't exactly let you go back to bed hungry so-

That's how he ended up making a late night dish rather than finally heading to bed.

Any protests to him cooking fell on deaf ears. He's having none of that. He can tell you're still sleepy, and since he hasn't wound down yet, he isn't. So he's more than happy to cook for you.

Definitely wasn't hungry himself, definitely didn't forget to have dinner, no sir-

He'll sit and eat with you, asking if you had any interesting dreams, before making up scenarios that may have occurred involving food monsters and treat fairies.

He's not trying to hear that beautiful sound that is your laugh. Not at all. He's trying even less hard to make the meal last longer, just so that he can spend a little bit more time with you-

Xavier -

He probably saw you on his own way to get a snack, in all honesty.

You two just have to share a look, contemplating the situation, before the both of you begin to grin, realizing what the other is awake doing.

He offers to walk you around the block to the corner shop that's open 24hrs, so that the two of you can get some junk food or spicy microwave noodles to have together.

If you don't want to go anywhere, he'll either go himself or order delivery from somewhere that's open all hours so that you guys don't need to cook. He doesn't want to put out a fire for his attempts this late at night, and you either don't feel like it, or you're not the best at it yourself.

(You're still better than him though.)

Whenever the two of you end up getting your food, you sit together on the couch, legs folded over one another as you tangle together to watch an episode of something you've been binging.

You'll both wake up completely different though- having fallen asleep together on the couch after finishing your food, and ending up snuggled closely, a bundle of warm blankets and pajamas mixed with the relaxing sensation of the other's breathing.

Thank goodness today was the both of your day off...

[yandereforme]

Part 3: Cass and Steph’s diner adventures

TW: ableism, slurs, refusal of service of homeless kids,a karen, mentions of arson and death

So, Steph and Cass had a tradition of going to a diner every other month, always going to smaller places and funding small businesses. The two of them love this tradition, especially since they make it a game to annoy the karens until the Karen tries to get them thrown out, which is when they reveal their identities.

Duke knows about their little tradition. So when he mentions a small diner only a fifteen minute walk from his school that has amazing milkshakes, both Steph and Cass immediately add it to the list of places to go.

When they visit, they are treated to the sight of a waiter snubbing a homeless kid and telling the kid to leave. They are about to leave and help the kid themselves when they see another waitress who looks to be on break beckon the kid over and give him a slightly burnt bread roll.

You on the other hand, have no clue why your bosses are dicks who hate the homeless, but you have too much empathy for these kids (you certainly don’t see your younger self in them, struggling to get by in a world where everything is against you, no way.) so you have built up a little rapport with some of the street kids who usually come during your break time you usually give them the stuff that you can’t serve, the slightly burnt rolls, the meat that has been under the heater slightly too long to be served, but not long enough for it to be able to make people sick, the steak that people send back because it’s too cooked, etc. it was always easier to give those to the kids during your break rather than after hours, but most of the kids knew not to go in. This must be a new one

Steph and Cass only enter the diner after you clock back in, both grinning at the looks their mismatched clothes get them. They can tell that half of the restaurant is judging them, and no one is clocking who they are. They don’t care about that, though, not really. They care about being served by you, which is exactly what happens after you glare down two other waitresses who seem to be refusing to serve them.

Steph immediately lets herself be loud and chaotic as she usually is, just turned up a little bit to see the other patrons flinch. It seems that you catch onto this too, and you hide a giggle as you take her drink order. When you turn to Cass, she begins to sign, and it looks like one of the watching tables is about to have a heart attack. Especially when you nod and ask her if she wants whipped cream with her hot chocolate. (You are just glad Duke has been teaching you sign language over the past few months.)

You ended up actually enjoying your job for once. It’s clear that the blonde girl is deliberately trying to fuck with everyone in the diner, being loud and obnoxious in a way that you’ve come to recognize as deliberate. The black haired girl seems a lot more calm, and you’ve never been so thankful you understand ASL. Both of them are sweet enough that you actually relax a little on shift. That was your first mistake

Your second mistake was underestimating the Karen two tables over, who when you went to give her her food, had a lot to say. You were quite used to Karen’s after almost 3 years in customer service, but even you were nearing your limit. She kept going on and on about how nothing was up to her standards, and you were just trying to stay calm.

You went to refill their drinks, and that was your third mistake, leaving the Karen alone. Because then the Karen decided that the mute girl enter loud companion, were being too disruptive. You came back out after three minutes to the shouting of the Karen. However, seeing her shout at the nice table who had asked you about your day, made you speed walk over.

Your fourth mistake was getting mad enough to yell. However, you would stand by that mistake. Hearing the Karen insult the mute girl by saying that she was a ‘ret@rd’ was the last straw. You let yourself yell at her to get away from the table.

Your fifth mistake was not paying enough attention to your steps. You forgot about the water that had been spilled earlier that evening, and slipped. That wouldn’t have been as much of a problem if it had just been the drinks on your tray, but you also brought out the pie for another one of your tables, and it went splat onto the woman’s expensive jacket as you fell flat on your face.

Your final mistake was forgetting your bosses hated you, and as the Karen started yelling slurs at you and insisting you be fired, your boss entered the scene. And of course, he fired you on the spot, even telling you not to expect this week’s paycheck. You had barely gotten to your feet before you were shoved out the door, and you stepped into a puddle.

It was ironic, really, that’s stepping in a puddle is what set you off crying. It wasn’t the fact that you were just lost the job that helped you pay for your apartment, that you had to find a new job, that you just been embarrassed and humiliated in front of a crowd, or even that slurs had been screamed at you. It was the fact that you stepped in a puddle and got your shoes wet that made you start crying. 

Steph and Cass had liked you. You were fun and kind, and knew ASL, which had been a fun surprise. They had seen the irritation on your face when the Karen had been ranting, and Cass could tell by your body language you were close to losing your temper. Steph had pouted a little when you left to get the Karen her drink, but both of them had noticed when the Karen approached.

After a minute or two, they both were considering just saying their names to embarrass the Karen, when Cass saw you walk out of the back with the drinks and a pie for another one of your tables. You clearly clocked the Karen and were speed walking over when the Karen decided to use the slur.

Now, Cass had heard worse, as had Steph, but both were still angered by the insult. Cass had enough sense to nudge Steph with her leg when she noticed Steph going for a weapon. However, they didn’t expect to hear you shout at the Karen to get away from their table.

Cass was the one who first noticed you step into the slight puddle. It was almost as if time slowed as you slipped, and the pie flew through the air before landing in the middle of the Karen’s coat. Steph couldn’t contain her laughter at the Karen’s face, and Cass managed to catch a quick picture of the scene before your boss came over.

That was when the good mood soured. Your boss, who they both recognized from earlier, started scolding you in tandem with a Karen, firing you on the spot. This time, Steph was the one who had to nudge Kas with her leg as she could tell cast was gearing up for a fight

A minute after you were pushed out of the building, Cass stood up, as did Steph. Cass quickly went outside to find you, and it didn’t take long. She sat quietly beside you, making sure to be loud enough to be heard but quiet enough to not bother you, as she heard Steph yelling from inside the diner.

You weren’t sure how long you cried, or when exactly the mute girl from earlier came and sat with you, but it took time for you to stop crying. You apologized, only for the girl (you vaguely remembered her friend calling her Cass) to shake her head and sign firmly that no apology was needed. She asked you for your name, and at that moment, you couldn’t care less about how weird the situation was

When Steph left the diner(after putting the fear of the Wayne family in all present, especially the Karen and your boss) she was happy to find you sitting with Cass on a nearby bench, talking about life as if you were already close friends. Steph grinned, and considered you before nodding. You definitely seemed like a good addition to the family.

After your lovely conversation with Cass , you were not expecting much more than a goodbye. You certainly weren’t expecting to be basically kidnapped by the blonde, who had introduced herself as Stephanie “But call me Steph”, on a shopping spree/girls’ day, where you went into stores you had never been in, and your new friends spent an uncomfortable amount of money.(You were just glad you managed to get them to not buy much for you, not realizing the only reason they didn’t was because Cass could tell that any more gifts would scare you off, and had signaled such to Steph, who pouted but backed off. She could give you more later.)

By the end of the night, you were eating at a nice diner before being dropped off at your apartment building(You didn’t notice Steph’s slight frown or the calculated look in Cass’s eyes). You went back to your apartment surprisingly content. You knew the next few days would be hectic as you scrambled to get a new job, but that night, you feel asleep happily, with two new numbers in your phone.

(The diner you worked at burned down not long after, with no casualties, but some employees injured, including your boss, whose burns were quite severe. Karen, or Kelly Jones, was fired from her job at Wayne Enterprises, and was later found dead from an assumed mugging gone wrong.)

(Duke smirked when he heard about Cass and Steph’s encounter with you, even though he felt slight jealousy at the fact you let them buy you things, though it was quickly tempered at the thought of how close you were to coming into the family. The girls already adored you, so now it was only the older brothers and Bruce left.)

(He had already chosen a room he knew you would adore. Soon, he would bring Cass in on the plan, and they could start priming you. For now, he was content to hear your surprised laughter at Damian’s graphic threats to your former boss. If only you knew…)

Hope you like this! Been working on it for a while, but I will finish my next posts of my other aus before posting the next part of this. Also, I may have an interlude with Alfred later, but that’s if I have time. Remember, this is for fun, not my job, so I will take time in between, but I promise I won’t abandon stories as long as people like them :)

Yan!Mafia Batfamily x reader

Part 1:Introduction and Duke

TW: Mentions of murder, mention of harassment

After Bruce’s parents died, Bruce began having the same mindset Red Hood/Jason had in canon; You can’t eradicate crime, but you can control it.

He soon built a persona of the bat, a mafia boss that everyone knew and feared/loved. This is a less moral Batman, who doesn’t personally kill, but has nothing against murder if it’s just.(Justice remains a part of his mission.)

This leads to a slightly more complicated bat family, with each of them playing a vital role as their counterparts, and Robin being the term used for shadowing the big bat, and learning the ropes. (If you want me to expand on that part, let me know$

No one knows the Wayne’s are the Batfam, but they all know they are vaguely connected, with many suspecting a relationship between Bruce and The Bat or The Bat being an illegitimate child of Thomas Wayne(though neither theory is voiced in earshot of the Wayne’s. Connected to the Bat or not, the Wayne family is still terrifying.)

Most people are pretty scared of the Waynes and the Bats like, fearing them and avoiding them 

You, on the other hand, could give less of a shit about them.

You are an orphan with good grades and even better computer skills. So while everyone believed you lived with your parents who traveled, and that you were 17 to your actual age of 13, you got away with living on your own and working a part time job. Working as a waitress wasn’t terrible, though you occasionally had to deal with Karens and harassment.

However, after a terrible night at work where a Karen poured her drink over you and a drunk idiot slapped your ass, you had run out of willingness to deal with bullshit. So, when a trust fund brat tried to make you move from your seat in the library, you refused, glaring at the blurry person standing next to you, ignoring the gasps from the students around you.

You expected him to yell at you, or let his companion, who was glaring hard at you, deal with you. Instead, he spoke briefly with his friend in a language you didn’t recognize. After a minute or so, they both sat down and quietly studied with you

Duke was charmed by your behavior. It has been a long time since anyone outside of the family had said no to him. The look of anger in your eyes was belied by pure exhaustion. He knew you had no clue who he was, and you were too tired to care.

You were interesting. So Duke didn’t let Damian yell at you or (attempt to) intimidate you.(while Damien was very intimidating when he had to be, Duke had a feeling you would not care in the slightest.)

So Duke convinced Damian to sit with him while he observed you studying, instead of discussing Bat business like they had planned. He had known of you, and Duke remembered you being in a few of his classes, but this stunt caught his interest too much to let you go.

You weren’t sure why, but apparently the Wayne kid (or Duke as he insisted you call him) seemed charmed by you basically telling him to fuck off. He started partnering with you in classes when he would normally work alone. He started eating his lunches with you in the library or in the auditorium, even having his brother join you on occasion.

You slowly got used to his presence, and even became begrudgingly fond of him and his little brother, even though his brother tended to stare at you more often than not. You hadn’t had very many friends for a long time, so maybe this was gonna be a good thing.

A big thing with Duke Thomas was that while he may seem calm, he is one of the most calculating of the Yanderes. He will always appear to be on your side, but unable to help you. He will become one of your closest confidence trusted friend , all without you realizing how much of a manipulative and possessive Yandere he is. He just knows that letting you have more of an illusion of power will help in the long run of making you like him.

So for now he’ll be content, letting you slowly come to him, similar to a feral cat. You’ll adore him soon enough. Come to think of it, you might make an excellent addition to the family.~

Edit: Life has been hitting me like a semi truck. I won’t go into too much detail, but I just ended a long-term relationship, had one of my grandparents die, and the other have a stroke. There’s a bunch of other stuff I also could mention, but I don’t wanna talk about it. Updates will be very sporadic for a long time I think. I’m sorry and I really hope you guys understand. Got enough motivation today to finally finish the first part of the Mafia au. Don’t know when I’ll be updating any of the other ones. I really hope you like this.

[kyxhiin]

Dad Marvel idea. (That I got from the captain Marvel fan group) Billy accidentally picks up on parental lingo when he's just trying to be there. And he can't help it when teens older than him see him as sort of a dad/parental figure.

Que him trying to keep it all together as he deals with traumatized teens as a traumatized kid. Like posing as a guardian figure for a school meeting of some sort (he always does it with himself, why wouldn't it work on the other Teens?..)

Batman asked Cap to go to parent teacher conferences, P.A meetings and all the other school stuff for his kids cause he got stuck up on a case that he NEEDED to solve(that's Tim's thing but whatever.)

And he's great at it, wonderful even. So that leads to all the other JL members asking for Cap to pose as an Uncle, Older brother, or any other sort of that matter.

That leads to him making life long enemies with the P.A moms.

Billy (in cap for wearing a suit that he was gifted from Batman for this reason alone.): Sarah, I thought I TOLD you to bring boiled potatoes not that *visibly wenching* potato salad for the class picnic. I thought I told you I WILL handle the cooking?

Some mom named Sarah: Oh, how silly of me. Well it's fine though, you saw how popular my potato salad was at the P.A meeting. Mr.Charles (fake name that so luckily happened to be C.C's)

Billy: Well! It was sure of a fight for the janitors to clean the toilets after? Wasn't it? Sarah?

Another one would be.

Billy: Oh, Heather's mom. How nice of you to bring those doggie treats for the Dogs, I would say you put verrrry hard work into them! (Feeding one of the cookies to Titus [Don't worry, he made sure that they were safe. Luckily she didn't add anything harmful to Dogs in them])

Heather's mom: Oh realllly? I wasn't sure if I was making it for Dogs or a human, it's pretty hard to tell with you?

Just so you know all of these are said in a very fake, condescending? backfaced tones. Plus a tiny add on as Billy pretended to be his own guardian for his parent teacher meeting.

Mrs. Smith: I'll have you know that, well Billy has been coming to school in interesting clothing options. I'm not one to judge Mr.Batson, but are you really letting your son go out like that?(Def judging him for looking homeless.)

Captain Marvel: I'll have you know that's the latest Fad between the little fellas. He's just following the trend that's outside of Fawcett! Well if you go to the new Gotham or new york city everybody dresses up like that. There's nothing wrong for my boy to follow modern fashion trends such as that.!

[7nuh]

MR. SILVAIR YANDERE DRABBLE !

CW 𓂃 gn!reader, yandere!Mr. Silvair, loss of limbs, canon-typical violence, captivity

Mr. Silvair is very interesting to me because he rejects you, but I can definitely see him eventually adoring you like a cute little unruly pet that doesn't know any better.

What made you so interesting to him in the first place is your desperate struggle to hold on to your humanity. Out of all of the unfortunate idiots who made their way here, you survived the longest with your sanity in tact. It's so impressive that Mr. Silvair actually thinks you have a chance of making it back with your mind in one piece.

A part of him wished you had stayed in his lab for longer so he could pick you apart in closer detail, but he knew that would lead him nowhere. What Mr. Silvair needed was progress— for your sanity to deteriorate.

And the change is drastic. You were once a trembling good-for-nothing that would have likely died in two days without Mr. Crawling's help, but now you bite. Now you can twist limbs and tear torsos apart with your bare hands. Now you roam these hallways as the predator searching for prey, and, soon, you'll become another one of the many bloodthirsty residents here.

Not that Mr. Silvair would allow it to get to that point, though, as he proceeds to restrain and detain you in one of his many cells. Why would he allow the perfect test subject to slip away from his fingers so easily? As a token of your short-lived friendship, he even went out of his way and gave you a clean cell! He also arranged occasional visits from Mr. Chopped (but never Mr. Crawling) whenever you stayed docile long enough on the operating table. Nevermind your many escape attempts and increasing hostility, you'll understand soon enough.

In there, you're safe and that's all that matters. It's your temporary abode away while you 'rehabilitate', a safe space where you can't hurt anyone or yourself. You used to be so bothered by the lack of limbs, but you've stopped resisting. He thinks you're starting to learn how inconvenient it is to be in this helpless state— how futile resistance is. You're starting to behave.

Mr. Silvair observes that you now like getting headpats these days. Maybe a few kisses here and there to remind you of your long lost affection for him. Mr. Silvair can't accurately assess whether you hate it or not, though. What happened to the good old days when you used to run to his door for safety whenever you got chased down by something much larger than you? Now you hate this place when it used to be your only space of rest and respite.

As a special treat, he brings you interesting knick knacks that should remind you of your human life. But really, it's a special treat for him because he enjoys watching you pretend it's not making you miserable to be reminded of your past life. Either way, you'll take any positive attention you get from him, no matter how condescending, over the long hours on that wretched table. You can bark and hiss all you want but it doesn't change the fact that you crave any sense of normalcy, even if it comes in the form of his twisted affection for you.

It's cute, almost. Mr. Silvair enjoys being relied upon by something that was once so terrifying. He enjoys reducing you and chipping away at your autonomy, from the physical to the mental. He's at least self-aware enough to acknowledge that it's no longer a research project to him, but a perverse achievement to have you like this.

As interesting as it was to watch your descent into madness, Mr. Silvair wants to break you apart and be the one who puts you back together. It really doesn't matter how many times he has to break your limbs until you've learnt your lesson.

[merakiui]

there is a knock at your door.

yandere!jade leech x (gender neutral) reader x yandere!floyd leech cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, stalking, fear/paranoia, kidnapping note - will you open it? // a birthday gift for the lovely and amazing @fish-brain-go-brrrr!!!!!!! may your special day be filled with eels, tako, and boundless happiness. (´▽`ʃƪ)♡ thank you for being a wonderful friend!! have the best birthday and enjoy this little gift hehe!!!! 🎉

Knock, knock. 

The door opens to reveal your friend since forever: Azul Ashengrotto.

And, more importantly, his Alaskan Malamute, who bounds over in quick clicks to greet you. You laugh as she all but pushes past Azul’s legs in an effort to reach your outstretched arms.

“Well, excuse you!” Azul laughs. She slobbers all over your face in her form of affectionate greeting before pulling away to sniff curiously at your suitcase. “Someone’s excited to see you.”

“I haven’t even gotten through the door,” you remark in between giggles.

“Okay, Pepper, that’s enough.” Azul clicks his tongue and she parts from you (not before delivering one final lick to your cheek. He smiles and pats her affectionately. “Good girl.”

Despite Pepper’s impressive size, she’s nothing but a softie. A gentle giant, some would describe her. You remember when she was just a puppy, small enough to be cradled in Azul’s arms like a human baby. How she’s grown!

“If you’d come this way, you can put your stuff down.” Azul shuffles aside to allow you to step fully into the foyer of his smartly-furnished home. “I’m sure you’re already familiar with everything, but it won’t hurt to reiterate.”

“Please do. It’s been a while since I’ve been at your place. Doesn’t seem like anything’s changed, though.”

He hums and shuts the door behind you. It locks smoothly. You trail after Azul, wheeling your suitcase down the hall and into the sitting room. Pepper bounds after the both of you and makes herself comfortable on a fluffy dog bed.

“Pepper’s feeding schedule hasn’t changed. Although I did switch to a different brand of dry food. This one is much better. Vet’s orders and all that. And every month I have a chef come in to prepare her a special, nutritionally balanced meal with only the freshest ingredients.”

“Wow! Isn’t she spoiled?” you tease in an exaggerated baby voice.

“I take care of my things,” he replies simply, shrugging your playful remark off, “and Pepper deserves only the finest.”

“I’m sure she appreciates it.”

As if having realized she’s the subject of conversation, Pepper barks.

Azul leads you through the house into the kitchen. It looks different from the last time you saw it and you realize he must have had it redone. Every appliance is brand-new, winking back at you when you peek into each gleaming surface.

Sleek, you think, admiring the wall oven. 

“Pepper gets one cup of dry food twice every day. Once in the morning and once at night. On Fridays, I give her a can of wet food as a treat. She can have that whenever you think is best. I usually do it around late morning, early afternoon.”

“Dry food twice each day. Wet food Friday. Got it.”

He opens a small door to a cupboard packed neatly with cans and containers. “This is where I keep her food. This bigger door is for human food. The wonderful pantry.” He knocks on it playfully.

Knock, knock.

You attempt a poor joke. “So it’s not just all dog food?”

“I have to feed myself,” he says, dramatically aghast. “I’m not a dog.”

“You sure about that?”

Azul barks out a chuckle. His mouth quirks up in an amused half-grin. “I’m sorry to disappoint. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve stocked this one full of everything indicated in the preferences you sent me.”

“So that’s why you asked me for that list! I just thought you wanted food recs.”

“That, too. You have unique tastes.”

“Microwave and canned meals are always there for me in my darkest hours.”

He hums. “Well, I’ve made sure to get each of your human favorites, so you needn’t feen for those too much.”

There’s a razored edge to his remark that makes you shrivel inside. As if your appetite is cheap in some way, more like a dog’s than a person’s.

But this is his house and it’s his money. You wouldn’t put it past him to factor in the pay cut for unnecessary sass. So you simply bare your teeth in a smile and take the punch, whether it was intended for you or not. Sometimes you forget he’s supposed to be your friend. 

“You’re welcome to use the kitchen. The whole house is your oyster, really,” he continues, guiding you towards the back door. It’s then when you notice the little black camera positioned in the corner of the room, its red eye peering soundlessly back at you. You wonder if that’s a new addition—the dog cameras. You can’t remember if they were there the last summer you were here. “Pepper has a tendency to stay out longer than she needs to after she’s done her business. She’ll come to the door once she’s had her fill, so there’s no need to fret. Although I’m sure she’ll listen to you. She’s quite obvious in her favoritism…”

You laugh but not because it’s funny. Because it’ll hopefully land you within his good graces, which is patently absurd if he’s meant to be your friend. You’re not even sure you can call these favors friendship when they’re transactional. If anything, you’re friendlier with Pepper than you are with Azul.

Am I really closer with a dog than a human? you think as he opens the door for you to view the fenced-in yard. You watch Azul gesture, his lips moving with his words. Actually, maybe Azul’s the dog.

Doubtful, but that doesn’t make the imagery any less comedic.

“I’ll be back next Monday. If you need anything or have any questions, you have my number. Oh, but just in case I’ve written the schedule for you and pasted it on the fridge should you forget.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s nothing I haven’t done before.”

At that, he smiles sincerely. “Thank you. I really do appreciate this, considering everything was such short notice.”

“Nah, don’t worry. We’re friends. Plus, Pepper loves me.”

He chuckles. “I suppose that’s more than enough of a bonus. Speaking of which, how much would you like to be paid?”

“However much you’d like to give me,” you blurt and immediately regret it.

“I researched the average pay for dog-sitters, but there were just so many conflicting opinions and variables. So what do you think would be best? Please don’t sell yourself short on account of my asking. I’m always willing to give you more for your services.”

Taking a pause, you contemplate his words. If you factor in the grocery trip he made on your behalf and his letting you stay for the week alongside the tasks you’ll be completing for Pepper…

You open your mouth to suggest four-hundred madol, but he beats you to it—and with a completely different amount.

“Does three-hundred suffice?”

“Sure. No, yes. Yeah, that works.” You smile, but you aren’t very pleased.

“Wonderful! If you ever find yourself thinking you might need more, please do tell me. I want to make sure you’re paid accordingly. Good work deserves equally good acknowledgement, wouldn’t you agree?”

You nod. If you know anything about Azul, it’s that he’s always willing to work with you when it comes to finances. He’s a businessman, so of course he’d know how to flawlessly navigate these types of situations. And having built himself a career and life on hard work, he has the confidence to throw numbers around and see which one sticks.

Briefly, as you follow him to the front door, you try to imagine yourself in his shoes—a businessperson who dresses smart every day, who never has to worry about money, who doesn’t have to be silently amazed by shiny appliances and refurbished kitchens.

And then you wonder if Azul is in the market for a spouse, but that idea is swiftly stamped out when you realize how silly it sounds.

He props his suitcase against the wall and bends down to welcome Pepper, who can easily match his height, into his arms. She licks at his face, sniffing the cologne spritzed on his suit, and he doesn’t seem to fuss over the hair.

“I’ll see you in a week. Be good to (Name) while I’m gone.”

Upon hearing your name, she whips her head up to look at you.

“She’s always good no matter what,” you vouch, reaching to scratch behind her ears. Her tail wags wildly. “The best girl.”

“I’m glad.” Azul pulls away. He plucks a lint roller from the side pouch in his backpack and casually brushes down his front. “I trust you’ll be fine in my absence? Do feel free to sleep wherever—whether on the sofa or in the guest bedroom upstairs. The sheets were just washed and the room is clean. Mine is as well, but I suppose it may be awkward to offer it.” He coughs into his fist. “Regardless, whichever space you find most comfortable, consider it yours for the duration of your stay.”

“Thank you for everything, Azul.” You hold the door for him as he drags his suitcase over the threshold, his backpack hanging from one shoulder. “Have a safe flight.”

Pepper joins you at the door to watch. You wave to him while he lifts his belongings into the trunk of his car, and then within mere minutes he’s pulling away and driving out of sight.

“And that’s that,” you announce, ducking back inside with Pepper. You shut the door and lock it. Surveying the sitting room, your hands situated on your hips, you wonder what you should do now. She peers up at you, just as expectant. 

The first thing you decide to do is peruse the pantry and the fridge. All of your favorites are arranged within. It’s actually too much, you realize, now unable to settle on a single option for dinner.

So instead you swipe the money Azul’s left for you on the counter—in case of emergencies, the note reads—and decide that this predicament is dire enough for pizza.

Knock, knock.

You pop up from the sofa and trot over to open the front door. Pepper gets there before you, barking loudly at the person on the other side. Gently, you shush her and peek out through the small crack to greet the driver. They smile and hand over your food. Rushing through the process, you give them the amount owed.

The door shuts and locks with a click.

“You’re babysitting for the same rich guy? You’d think he’d give you a raise or something since you do it so often,” Ace mutters into the phone.

“Yeah, well, it’s only a week.”

“Still a week’s worth of work. Why do you even feel bad? Ask for more. He said he’d give it to you, didn’t he?”

“I dunno… I mean, we already agreed on an amount and I don’t wanna seem like a greedy asshole—”

“(Name), he’s rich. They’re all greedy assholes. If he has the money to spoil his dog with monthly fancy feasts,” he says, putting on a posh accent, “then he has the money to pay you what you deserve. If you want, I could always say something. J-Just because you’re too chicken and all, I mean! Sometimes you need superstar Ace to step in. No need to thank me. I know I’m great.”

Propping your feet on the armrest at the end of the loveseat, you roll your eyes at the ceiling. “Whatever would I do without you?”

“Case in point! So you should totally ask him for more. Wring him out like a money rag.”

“We’ll see… He did buy a bunch of food for me and he’s letting me stay. He even left money for emergencies.”

“You used it, right?”

“Of course I did! I’m not stupid.”

Ace laughs. “So you’re alone then?”

“The dog’s here, too. You wanna say hi?” You tap your phone. “Okay, you’re on speaker. Pepper, you wanna meet my friend?”

“What’s up, Pepper!”

She lifts her head from where she’s resting on her cushion, her ears raised curiously. Her only response is a soft huff.

“She says hi.”

“You sure you’re not putting words in her mouth?”

“Surprised you couldn’t understand her, you dog.”

“Hey!”

Grinning, you pick at a loose string on your sweater. Azul’s house is always so cold. “But, yes, it’s just the dog and me. Why?”

Ace is quiet for an uncharacteristic beat. Eventually, he clears his throat. “Dunno. Just figured you might want some company. I could come over.”

You understand the implication coyly woven into his words. “I’d say yeah—”

“Really?!”

“But he’s got cameras. For the dog, I think.”

“So just cover them up?”

“Wow, great suggestion. How long did it take you to think of that one, brainiac?”

“I’m just saying… He’s away on a business thing, right? How much time is he gonna have to watch the cameras?”

“If he’s neurotic enough, he’ll find time.”

“He shouldn’t be if he trusts you to look after the house.”

“He also trusts how easy it’ll be to connect the dots if something goes missing from his house.”

“It’s not criminal to have a guest over! Geez. You make it sound so illegal…”

“Tough luck. If you really wanna hang out, we can just get lunch next time I’m—”

Knock, knock.

You sit up slightly on the sofa, brows furrowed. Is someone at the door? At this hour? You’re certain Azul isn’t expecting anyone, and the mail isn’t due to come until tomorrow morning. You glance at Pepper. Her eyes are closed, but her ears are raised, listening.

“Hey, Ace?”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“Hold that thought. I think someone’s at the door.”

You manage to catch the very end of Ace’s don’t-get-murdered warning just before you set your phone down. Azul’s door has a panel of frosted glass, so even if you wanted to discern the person’s features on the other end you’d have to open it for confirmation. All you can go off of are shadows.

Unlocking the door, you pull it open and poke your head outside. The crisp air hits you like a slap.

No one’s there.

You check around in case someone dropped something off, but there’s nothing in sight. Nothing on the stoop. No mail to collect.

Did someone have the wrong house? you think, trying to picture the scenario in your mind. Or maybe some dumb kids are pranking me. 

Now irritated, you shut the door in a huff.

It’s summer. Don’t they have anything better to do?

Maybe it’s precisely because it’s summer that they don’t.

You choose to brush this annoyance aside in favor of picking up your phone to return to the conversation.

“Sorry about that. I’m back.”

“Everything good?”

“Yeah. No, yeah. All good here. Just some kids thinking they’re funny.”

“Yeaaah, no surprises there.”

“You’d think they’d stay away. Azul’s probably got enough money to sue them for disturbing the peace or some other stuffy nonsense and win.”

“They’re kids. They’re not gonna know any better.”

“Says the public menace.”

“I’m not that bad! Cut me some slack. I’ll have you know, I’ve matured significantly since my school days and I am very much a changed man.”

“Yeah, oookay.”

“I’m serious!”

“Sure, Mr. Mature. Anyway, it’s late. I should let Pepper out and get to bed.”

“You sure you don’t want me to sing you to sleep?” he teases.

“I actually value my sense of hearing, so no. Thanks, though.”

Before he can retort, you bid him sweet dreams and hang up. Gazing at the camera positioned in the corner, you rise to your feet.

The cameras are definitely new.

“Pepper, sweetheart, you wanna go outside?”

She seems to have understood that last part, for she scrambles out of her bed and pads over to the back door with a swaying tail. You open the door for her, and she rushes past you in a blur of fur.

Good. She’ll get one last run and bathroom break in before bed and hopefully we’ll be fine until morning.

Like a wine stain on a white shirt, your eyes are drawn to the camera once more. You can understand having cameras outside the property, but inside the house feels…unusual. But then you’ve never had a dog of your own and you’ve always lived in apartments on the highest floor, so maybe this is what most dog owners do when they need to monitor an overactive animal.

Maybe they’re those cameras that you can speak through! If that’s the case, then I can totally see him talking to Pepper or scolding her if she’s up to no good. Okay, that makes a little more sense now.

Another reason hits you, and you feel foolish for not realizing it first: For safety and security’s sake, too. Of course.

Your phone buzzes then and you pull it from your pocket to read the message. Ace has sent you something stupid on Magicam, no doubt. You’re about to open it and confirm when—

Knock, knock.

An admonishment on the tip of your tongue, you storm through the hall towards the front door. You throw it open this time, and like before you find empty space.

“Not funny,” you seethe, stepping out into the cold night to peer through the neat hedges and flower bushes. Surely those kids are hiding somewhere… “It’s late. Go home already!”

You don’t receive a reply. For a moment, you wait in anticipation. Wherever they’re hiding, they’ll have to get up and retreat eventually. It’s oddly quiet. You strain to listen for any giggles or whispers.

Nothing but suffocating silence.

And then Pepper barks, and you nearly jump out of your skin. You shut the door slowly, watching the outside slim down until eventually all you see is your warped reflection in the frosted glass.

Weird…

Again, Pepper barks.

“I’m coming! Wait just a moment, Pepper!”

You lock the door and scurry to let her in. 

Come tomorrow, those kids won’t be able to hide in the daylight, you tell yourself as you brush your teeth. And when I catch them, I’ll make sure to give them a talk on why it’s not nice to bother other people, especially at night when it’s dark out. It’s just unsafe for kids to be out late anyway!

When you settle into bed, you realize the house is perfectly still and silent. Pepper is snoozing comfortably on Azul’s bed. You never realized it, but Azul’s house seems bigger at night. More rooms. More space. Lots of shadows. A creak every now and then as everything settles. It’s in between sleep that you begin to wonder if you locked the door.

It’s fine. I’ve got Pepper to keep me safe.

Comforted with this knowledge, you fall asleep.

Knock, knock.

There is a knock at your door.

You jerk awake and, rather clumsily, feel around in the bed for your phone. It flashes the time back at you. The rest of the world comes trickling in through dull, still-sleepy senses. You finally register Pepper’s bark, which is beginning to sound more like an alarm with how relentless it is.

“Shit. It’s already afternoon?” And then you sit up. “Shit! It’s already afternoon!”

You rush down the stairs, apologizing profusely to Pepper with each step. She’s waiting for you at the very bottom, pacing in circles and barking at you.

“I know, I know! I’m sorry. I completely slept in. You must have to go really bad.”

She races you to the door and you yank it open in your haste, heaving a relieved breath when she bursts outside. You lean against the doorframe for support and bask in the sunshine that spills in.

The weather’s beautiful today. I can’t believe they were saying it might rain.

While Pepper runs laps outside, you busy yourself with filling Pepper’s bowls with the recommended amount of dry food and then fresh water. Her shadow appears against the door a few minutes later and so you let her in.

“Just in time,” you praise, watching as she trots eagerly over to her bowl.

With that out of the way, you begin preparing a very late breakfast for yourself. You can’t remember when the dishes from before were cleaned. Did you do them last night before bed?

“Doesn’t really matter,” you murmur, slicing fruit for a salad. “One less thing I have to do. Thank you, (Name) from the past.”

You skim through the notes Azul’s pasted to the bulletin board. Instructions for Pepper’s feeding schedule, reminders, times and dates. But then there are also things he’s left for himself. A calendar with important events marked. Various notes for miscellaneous things: Bring suit in for cleaning. Meet with dietician at the end of the month. Celebrate colleague’s birthday. These tiny slivers of his life remind you that Azul is a busy person like you. When you look at the stars he’s doodled around dates of particular importance, you feel yourself smiling. He’s not such an intimidating figure when you look at him through his calendar.

A text from Ace coaxes you out of your thoughts: u still on for tonight?

Tonight? But then you remember. Oh, fuck! Deuce’s birthday! I forgot we planned the surprise for today.

hell yeah!!! is your enthusiastic reply.

Later, while you’re getting ready for the evening, you think you hear someone knocking. But the running water drowns out all sounds from downstairs. If Pepper isn’t barking, it’s likely nothing.

You leave the house somewhat frazzled, hoping to shake off the strange suspicion that something isn’t right.

The biggest surprise, aside from jumping out to shock Deuce when he walked into the restaurant on account of thinking it a date—yes, you and Ace catfished him for this very cruel, irreverent birthday joke—is perhaps the text you receive from Azul.

Is it raining? Did Pepper track mud in the house?

You read it three more times and then you peek outside the window. It’s been raining ever since you arrived. So much for perfect weather… But Pepper couldn’t have gotten into any mud because the ground was dry earlier today.

No?? you write back, confusion bubbling in your chest. I haven’t sent her out since this morning when it was sunny. It’s raining now, but she hasn’t been out at all.

Horrified, you begin to wonder if you somehow spilled something during breakfast. Or did Pepper have an accident in the house? Did she get into something? A million questions headline your thoughts, overwhelming in their intensity. Thankfully, it’s Ace and Deuce who bring you back to the present.

“Ace told me you’re doing that house-sitting gig for that guy again.”

“Oh, yeah! I am. Dog-sitting, too.” You stuff your phone away.

Best not to think about it.

“Didja catch those kids?”

Deuce looks between you and Ace, a brow raised. “What kids?”

“You totally missed it! I guess some kids were knocking on (Name)’s door all night long.”

“They’re still doing it. I think…”

“No way!”

“Sooner or later, it becomes less annoying and more like harassment.” Deuce cringes. “And you haven’t caught them yet?”

“No. Or… Well, I thought I heard some knocking this morning. But I was still asleep and the dog was barking.”

“This guy has cameras, doesn’t he?” Ace looks to you for confirmation.

“Yeah, but it’s not like I have access to them.”

“Maybe that’ll drive whoever’s bothering you away. If they see the cameras, they’ll realize they’re being recorded and hopefully leave you alone.”

“Hopefully.”

“I offered to come over.”

“It’s not that serious.”

Ace and Deuce share a look of doubt.

“Really! It’s not, guys. All they’re doing is knocking on the door. Irritating as hell? Yes. But it’s all harmless. They’re outside. I’m inside. Plus, I’ve got Azul’s dog. She’s huge.”

“Just…keep yourself safe. Call one of us if you need to. We’ll come over,” Deuce says, poking around at the food on his plate.

“I will. Thank you. But let’s not worry about any of that. It’s your birthday! It’s supposed to be all about you.”

Somehow the unsettling atmosphere ebbs away, replaced with the joyous delusions of short-lived celebration.

You return to Azul’s house to find muddy pawprints on the floor. It takes you thirty minutes to scrub the floors clean, and for the entire time you’re racking your brain trying to understand how this happened. Was there mud in the backyard that you just weren’t aware of? Or did Pepper truly go outside when it was raining? Did you leave the door unlocked?

Surely Azul must have seen what happened on the cameras.

Something isn’t adding up. You spend your entire shower constructing the scene and its many possibilities, but none of them make a lick of sense.

It’s just you and Pepper, right?

As you toss and turn in bed, struggling to relax under a duvet that feels too itchy and hot, you think you hear someone knocking on the door.

Or maybe it’s the window. Maybe it’s right below you, tapping at the ceiling, pacing around in the kitchen, reaching to pet Pepper.

Maybe you’re just dreaming.

Azul calls you on the seventh day to check in. You consider telling him about the knocking, the dishes, that rainy day when Pepper tracked in mud, but you can’t seem to form the words without sounding utterly insane. So you smile and lie.

“No issues here. Pepper’s been wonderful.”

Azul hums, pleased. “Aah, I miss her something fierce. Oh, can you tell her I said that?”

You repeat his words to Pepper. “I dunno… I think she’s starting to like me more than you.”

“Well, isn’t that a problem? How else will she get her fix of you once you’re gone?”

“I’ll be back next time you need me.” And then you hesitate. “You…will need me again, right?”

“Of course. I always need you, (Name).”

There’s an awkward pause on his end. He clears his throat, but you don’t add anything to break the tension.

“Um, right. Yeah… Enjoy the rest of your business trip. I hope all is well with…that.”

“It is, yes. Thank you.”

“Then I won’t keep you.”

You end the call before he can say anything else. Pepper, who had been resting beside you on the sofa, tilts her head at you.

“Don’t tell him I said this,” you whisper, “but your owner is really bad at words sometimes.”

She leans in and licks your cheek.

Someone knocks on the door and lies in wait. You watch with bated breath, repeating the same phrase over and over: “Don’t open the door. Don’t open the door. Don’t open the door.”

Knock, knock.

She reaches for the knob.

“No… Come on. Don’t do it. It’s so clearly a trap!” You almost don’t want to watch. You know she’s as good as dead as soon as she opens the door, for the killer will descend and drag her back inside her own house.

Knock, knock.

She’s already opened the door. As expected, the killer pounces like the Grim Reaper and she shrieks like a banshee.

Knock, knock.

Knock, knock.

Knock, knock, knock.

Remote in hand, you lower the volume and focus on the silence that creeps in shortly after. You wait for a creak or another knock—a disturbance of some sort.

Slowly, you turn to glance at the door and then at the windows nearby with the curtains drawn. As quietly as you can manage, you set the remote down and slither off of the sofa. Pepper doesn’t seem bothered by the sounds, but you can tell she’s listening, her body tense.

No one’s out there. It’s nothing. 

You peel the curtains back ever so slightly and peek out at the darkness. There’s no one on the stoop. No one at the window. No one.

So then where was the knocking coming from? Was it really just the movie?

Or… No, certainly not. You refuse to entertain that thought.

But, if not the movie and not from outside, where else could the sound be coming from? Where else if not from within these very walls?

You shut the curtains and return to the sofa. Horror is swapped for a cheesy rom-com. You need the laughter and the cringe and every fluffy thing in between to calm the electricity in your nerves.

And it works. You fall asleep by the third rom-com, listening to cheesy one-liners and bad jokes with terribly written punchlines.

Knock, knock.

And then a noisy clatter.

You’re shaken from your slumber in a daze. You’re not sure what time it is or where you even are, and it takes a moment for clarity to filter in through the grogginess. You’re wrapped up in blankets on the bed in the guest room in Azul’s house and there’s someone standing at the foot of the bed, watching you in the gloom, and—

Wait.

How did you get to bed? Most importantly, what’s that blinking back at you? It can’t be Pepper. Pepper doesn’t have two-toned eyes. Pepper can’t stand on two legs. You squint through the shadows to pick out the shape of them, and your blood freezes when you realize it’s a person.  

A person. A person.

Someone’s inside the house and they’re looking right at you.

Do they know I’m awake? you think, your thoughts racing wildly. You lie there, rigid as a board and stiff as a corpse, and hope that they can’t tell. Calm down. Relax. Pepper will scare them off.

But then you notice she hasn’t barked a single time since you opened your eyes. Is she sleeping?

Terror pierces your heart. Did this person hurt her? Is she—

Don’t think about that.

Your eyes slide over towards the doorway, and you just about scream when you see another figure. The breath sticks in your throat. You know it’s another person because the way they lean so casually against the doorframe suggests a certain nonchalance with this situation. A nonchalance that can only belong to a person.

“Knock, knock. Aww. Did we wake you up?” It’s a man’s whispery drawl that combs through the room, raking through your scalp with sharp fingers, prodding at your ears like a hornet. “You looked so peaceful, too. Sorry about that.”

You’re not sure what you should do. Should you even try to run or escape when you’re already so cornered? Is there enough time to call for help? Will Pepper hear you if you shout? Should you play dead or feign sleep? What should you do?

What can you do?

You glance at the other figure. Unlike the other one, who sways and fidgets like he’s caught in a perpetual, invisible breeze, this person is perfectly, eerily still. Almost like a doll.

But then the man in the doorway laughs. “Layin’ it on thick there, ain’tcha? They’re already shakin’ like a leaf. No need to overdo it.”

A razored smile cuts through the gloom. Your eyesight adjusts enough to catch sight of a J-shaped strand of hair and the glint of an earring.

“No need to look so scared,” he continues, but you can’t pry your eyes from the other’s smile. It’s a smile of grotesque pleasure—one that feasts on fear so palpable it might as well be a three-course meal for him. “We’re not gonna hurt you.”

Then will you do something much worse? you want to ask, but all you can do is blink.

“Just gonna take you somewhere nice and cozy. Nothin’ scary about that. Ain’t that right, Jade?”

“Indeed, Floyd.” A voice as smooth and soft as melted caramel. Maybe it would’ve been soothing in a different situation. 

Before you can scream or lunge out of bed, arms are reaching out to restrain you. A hand slaps over your mouth. Fingers curl into your arms. A sickly sweet rag is stuffed against your nose.

Your feet kick against the wall, a steady knock-knock-knocking like a heartbeat, until your muscles still and the fight is drained from you. Unconsciousness blankets your body and mind within minutes.

There is nothing more unnerving than returning to an empty house, especially when it was once filled with human presence. No one knows anything, but they could’ve if there was evidence. Incriminating footage is no good.

Azul certainly thinks so while he dons his finest suit and practices a few expressions in the mirror. Pepper watches him from where she lays curled on his bed.

“A hero must look exceptional when he rescues his dearest one. Most of all, he must be innocent and trustworthy. Wouldn’t you say so, Pepper?”

At that, she can only offer a halfhearted whimper. He smiles.

“Let’s go visit my (Name).”

[cameronsprincess]

reader being a spoiled “good girl” kook who doesn’t give rafe the time of day with his reputation and treats jj like shit when he does work around her house for her dad. at least until jj’s snap story updates with her getting fucked from behind, the hand gripping her hip hard enough to bruise having that unmistakable signet ring on it and jj’s moans being heard from behind the camera as his cum starts to land on her tear stained face 😌

OH. this has been rotting since the end of july and i’m sooo sorry, i hope you see this sweet nonnie🥺🩷

CW: smut! 18+ only! threesome, jj posts it on his snap story, piv sex, male receiving oral, facial, praise and degrading. rafe ‘n jj are kinda fucked up for this but oh well.

requests | deadly duo masterlist

You’d always been known as the “good girl” on the island. You never got into any trouble, you steered clear of parties, and you definitely didn’t hang out with people who were constantly getting themselves into some shit.

Rafe Cameron was nothing if not persistent, he’d always tried to hit you up, asking what you were doing, wanting you to hang out with him, but you never gave him the time of day, why would you? He was not a good guy, and everyone knew it.

The same goes for JJ Maybank, the well known, most attractive Pogue on the island. You saw him a lot, seeing as your father had hired him to do work around your house a lot. JJ was also quite persistent, always trying to make you crack, bend your own rules, but your walls you’d spent years building up had you treating him like the no-good Pogue he was.

You treated both men pretty unfairly, at least, that’s what the public saw. No one knew that you were secretly a filthy slut behind closed doors for both the Kook and Pogue kings of Kildare Island.

“That’s it, baby, takin’ Rafe’s cock so fuckin’ good aren’t you? That tight little cunt loves to be pounded from behind doesn’t she?”

JJ’s words have your pussy clenching tightly around Rafe’s thick length, pulling a low groan from him. Your bloodshot eyes look up, finding JJ’s ocean-blues, his phone’s camera pointed right down at you.

Wanting to give JJ something good to watch later, you push your head down further, taking his entire length down your throat, eyes never leaving his. JJ groans, his free hand making its way to the back of your head, fingers tightly gripping at the messy, tangled locks. He holds your head down, forcing you to suck in breaths through your nose the best you can.

He slightly tilts his phone up, capturing only Rafe’s toned abdomen and the way his hands were tightly gripping at your hips. His fingers dig into your skin so hard you’re sure you’ll have bruises later, but you’re too fucked out to care. You loved that they were your dirty little secret, loved the way they took turns fucking your throat, pussy and even sometimes your ass. They knew you had a reputation to uphold though, and they didn’t seem to mind the way you treated them in public, so long as they could fuck you like this whenever they wanted, you could do as you pleased in front of everyone else.

“Fuck, Y/N, your pussy feels so goddamn good, gripping my cock like she was fuckin’ made f’me.” Rafe rasps, his thrusts becoming sloppier.

JJ releases your head, allowing you to pull off of him and suck in a much needed breath of air. More tears slip past your lower lashes, making JJ breathe out a dark laugh.

“God, you look so fuckin’ pathetic, cryin’ like a fuckin’ baby while Rafe fucks that sweet cunt and I take this sweet mouth. Go on, suck my cock, princess, it’s aching for you.”

Rafe grunts, his fingers digging into your hips harder as he uses them to pull you back onto his cock, forcing you to meet each of his thrusts.

You lower your head, tongue darting out and softly swirling around the swollen, leaking head of JJ’s cock. He groans, lowering his phone back down to capture you sucking him off again.

“Eyes on the camera, baby. Don’t wanna miss a second of your facial expressions while my cock is down your throat and Rafe fucks you from the back.”

You quickly obey, forcing your eyes to look up and into the camera of JJ’s phone. You begin bobbing your head up and down his length, sucking and licking every last inch of him until you feel his cock pulse inside your mouth.

Rafe groans, slamming his hips forward one final time before his warm, sticky load is filling your pussy. “Fuuuuuck, baby, gonna have you leaking my cum for the rest of the day.” Rafe groans, holding onto your hips as he holds your ass flush against his groin as he rides out his high.

JJ isn’t too far behind Rafe, quickly pulling himself from your mouth and jerking his cock. A low, raspy groan fills the air as his cock twitches, his warm, sticky cum landing on your face and tits. JJ slowly removes his hand from his softening dick, his phone coming down and right in your face as he records the little facial he gave you.

“That’s it, baby. Gotta show everyone whose fucking girl you are, don’t we?”

In your euphoric, fucked out haze, you don’t catch JJ’s words… You just softly nod your head, saying “Yeah… Your girl.”

He and Rafe share a look, laughing lightly between one another before they both remove themselves from your bed, quickly dressing and helping clean you up. JJ tucks you into your bed after they have you completely cleaned up, placing a soft kiss on your forehead and whispering, “Maybe this’ll teach you to be nicer to us in public, baby.”

[thestrangepoet]

The Furrcinating Adventures of Champion, the Archives Cat | The Magnus Archives Fanfiction | Ch 4/?

Based on @ultramarinaa’s Cat!Martin AU 

CONTENT WARNINGS: None

DISCLAIMER: As per usual, this is an unedited first draft that I haven’t proofread. Forgive any typos and roughness around the edges – I tend not to go back over fanfics, as they’re just a bit of fun writing for me. (I am a full-time professional writer, and if I start telling myself I need to edit and proofread my fanfics, it’ll cease being fun for me.)

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Martin – no, Champion, for that was who he was now – crept through the institute, his ears flat against his head. 

How long had he been technically missing for now? At least a week, if not more. And no one had notified the police. Not Jon, not Tim, not Sasha. Not his own mother, despite the fact Martin would call her almost daily to check in on her. Not his neighbours nor his…well. He didn’t have any friends outside the institute. 

He didn’t have any friends inside the institute either, it seemed. 

Champion padded past the grand oak reception desk in the front lobby. Almost immediately, his paws left the ground, which drew a purr of surprise from him, his little blue eyes growing wide.

“Oh, Champion! You came to visit me, did you?” 

Rosie, Elias’ assistant, gathered Champion into her arms, her thin, angular face all smiles and framed with bouncing red curls. Everyone’s face was all smiles when Champion arrived. Champion, who did nothing at all to actually help the institute. He couldn’t read properly like this. He couldn’t research, staying up all hours of the night to finish reports. He couldn’t go investigate leads across the country, nor pitch theories for statements. He couldn’t even make a cup of tea like this. 

Martin could do all those things. And not once had he been given a genuine smile in return, not a single sparkle in someone’s eye to say they were actually happy to see him. But as Champion? 

All he had to do was walk on by. 

The first few days, that attention had overjoyed Martin. All he’d ever wanted. But now, it stung, jabbing him in the chest and reminding him that all this fuss wasn’t for him. Not really. 

That people liked him better as a useless cat than a man who tried too hard and apologised for existing. 

“Oh dear, little guy, why the sad ears?” Rosie continued, sitting down and depositing Champion onto the immaculate desk in front of her. “Was Jonathan a meanie to you? Do you want Rosie to accidentally misplace his expenses form this month?” She scratched behind Champion’s ear with a perfectly manicured nail, but he couldn’t even muster a false purr in response. 

Everyone liked him better as a cat. Hell, maybe he was better at being a cat? 

Maybe he should just…stay a cat. Let Martin Blackwood become just another missing person, lost behind a veil of barely asked questions. 

Something stirred under his skin at that thought, like a cold fog rippling through his blood, sending all his fur on end. Champion jolted in shock; all too easily, he had forgotten what he wrestled with here. Sure, being turned into a cat sounded silly enough, but the architect of all this had been a Leitner book. 

Something fed upon his lonely thoughts, caring not for the jovial packaging they came in. 

Champion, now dealing with an alarming amount of adrenaline, leapt from Rosie’s desk and scampered away. He dashed through the corridors, paw pads skidding on the hardwood flooring, his tiny heart hammering away. 

Something fed upon his lonely thoughts…

He practically slid across the Research Department, not stopping even when one of the researchers reached for a bag of cat treats. 

Something fed upon his lonely thoughts! What if it could see him or hear him or—

He bounded through the austere, silent library, not sure what he was running from or if anything was even truly chasing him. But instinct tore through his limbs, too aware now of the sense of some unspeakable shadow prowling after him and delighting in his isolation. 

When the panic finally subsided, Champion had to take a moment to look around the room he’d bolted into. The room loomed around him, gloomy save for one desk light working hard to chase it all away. 

His desk light. 

Champion padded through the archival assistants’ office, wandering past Tim’s empty desk and Sasha’s neglected chair. Was Tim at the station, weaving a story as to why they hadn’t reported their colleague missing sooner? Was Sasha in Elias’ office, distracting him from the whole affair? 

He hopped up onto his old chair at his own desk. He hadn’t been here since the day he’d read that damned book in the first place. Jon’s office took the place of his regular workspace, either curled up on Jon’s lap or snoozing under the radiator. 

Being a cat, admittedly, had been a lot more comfortable than being Martin Blackwood. The temptation to remain like this had, he realised, not been entirely out of spite and anger of the others not being too fussed about Martin’s disappearance. 

It had come from Martin’s own disregard for Martin’s disappearance. Like this, he couldn’t annoy people. He didn’t have to worry about messing up conversations or making a fool of himself. He could stay away from people in that way, yet reap all the benefits of getting affection and having his company be greeted with a smile. 

But…he also couldn’t offer Jon a cup of tea and get to see that momentary lessening of his scowl, the only time his frown eased up in the office. The silly little bloom of pride Martin got at being able to coax that out of him with a nice cup of tea – a silent victory, proof he’d done something right.

He couldn’t sneak out five minutes early for lunch with Tim on a Thursday, because they both loved Thursday special at the German kebab shop three blocks away and wanted to avoid the lunch rush queues.

He couldn’t buy a lemon and poppyseed muffin on a Monday to drop off at Rosie’s desk before she got in, earning him first dibs when she baked her amazing Malteser brownies during charity bake sales at work. She pretended she didn’t know Martin brought her breakfast every Monday, when he knew she ran late for work because she had to drop her father off at the physio, but somehow, a hearty slice of brownie would be wrapped in a napkin in the fridge with his name on it all the same. 

He couldn’t go to the little tea room five minutes from his house every Saturday and Wednesday, order the same cup of Earl Grey and the same ham-and-cheese toastie, and beam as the owner called him his favourite and most reliable customer.  

Maybe…Maybe Martin Blackwood did get noticed after all. Little nods, little appreciations. Maybe…that was enough? 

The cold retreated from his fluffy legs, though it didn’t fully subside. It loosened its grip on his tiny heart, but it didn’t uncoil. 

He had to completely undo this, Champion – no, Martin decided. He had to find the answer. And the best place to start had to be the book itself. 

Martin jumped down from his chair, flattening himself on the floor to scoot under the bookcase where he had bashed the book out of sight weeks before. 

A few cobwebs…a pen he’d lost months ago…some paper clips…a scrunched up ball of paper that stole all of Martin’s attention for five minutes or more as he bapped it between his paws in delight…but no book. 

Wriggling his way back out from under the furniture, he looked left and right. Where was it? 

Martin headed out of the archival assistants’ office and made his way towards Jon’s. Had Jon returned to the office to retrieve the book? Martin hadn’t noticed him doing so, nor had the book shown up on Jon’s desk lately. Given that desk doubled as one of Martin’s many napping spots, he was sure he would have spotted it if it had. 

Unless…he’d picked it up recently. Tim had just told Jon that there was no sign of Martin at all at his flat. Tim had done something incredibly important in that conversation, Martin realised in horror. 

He’d given Jon a mystery to unravel. He’d sparked his curiosity and given him a challenge – could he find Martin before a professional? 

Oh no. 

Martin scampered into Jon’s office at full speed, miaowing in a vain attempt to yell Jon’s name. But the room was empty. 

Panting, his head whipped this way and that. Where was he? It was 4:12pm – not a time that Jon would take a smoke break he thought no one knew about, nor a time he’d go for a tea or try to heavily hint for Martin to make one. He was always at his desk. Where was—

“Mrrrrowww…”

Martin blinked, his ears twitching. That…hadn’t come from him. “Miaow?”

A horrified pause stretched out across the office. And then, that same, low rumble of a miaow, sorrowful and irritated. 

“Mrrrrrooooowwww…”

Plucking up his courage, Martin followed the sound, his fur already sticking up on end. He tip-toed around the leg of Jon’s desk, already suspecting what had happened, yet praying it hadn’t.

There, beside Jon’s chair, was The Ninth Life, open on the last few pages. And on top of the book was the saddest, skinniest, scabbiest-looking black cat that Martin had ever seen in his life. Flecks of grey mottled his fur, which was missing in great clumps all over. Most of his right ear was missing, leaving a ragged edge in its wake. His eyes were far too big for his head, a brilliant green that somehow didn’t complement his black fur. Worst of all, the cat was sitting with its hind legs in front of it, as though determined to sit like a person. 

The black cat looked at Martin. 

Martin looked at the black cat. 

It scowled at him. Somehow, despite everything, the cat managed to scowl at him. 

The cat knew who he was, Martin realised. He knew he was Martin. 

…Jon? Is that you? Martin wondered, pacing slowly over to the scabby cat. He just wanted to get close enough to sniff him, to confirm that this was Jon and—

Bap! 

A paw plonked down squarely on Martin’s head, followed by a warning hiss. 

Bap! Bap bap bap! 

Yes, Martin realised, as he lay down on his front and tried to cover the top of his head with his own paws to shield himself. 

The scruffy cat before him was definitely Jonathan Sims.

──── •✧• ────

[newkatzkafe2023]

What if the monkey kings get kidnapped by a yandere yn? And they can't escape? How long before the they break and return our affections?

ohhhhhhhhhh boi this should be easy😏

Ranking begins now😈

(Lmk Wukong) 7/10 This man has been though was to much, even more after meeting Mk. So when you took him it he was so mentally exhausted that he couldn't fight you right now. When with you he doesn't have to worry about a single thing, just sitting on the couch with a cute monkey girl eating fruit like he always wanted.

(NR Wukong) 8/10 this man's sanity seems like been dangling off the edge longer then anyone bothered to relieve. What's getting kidnapped by a hot monkey woman gonna change, after everything heaven had put him through of course he'll wanna stay with you. Would you like to stay forever with him too????

(HIB Wukong) 5/10 he's definitely gonna be tricky to deal with, but that's were Luier and Silly girl come in. You kidnapped the two first and manipulated them by treating them like your own children in your own motherly way. Wukong could use all the logic and Threats all he wants, but with you playing to his domestic side and promises of more cubs and flashing your birthing hips. Wait why did he wanna leave again???

(MKR Wukong) 4/10 he's gonna put up a rather eventful fight, but play into his hatred and bitterness, and You will have him right where you want him. Just remind him of the pain, the suffering, the humiliation, and every negative thing that the outside world did to him. Then he will stay with you, getting everything he always wanted. Just don't escape Wukong.

(Netflix Wukong) 11/10 He clearly has every issue imaginable including his false bravado and mild anger issues, but put him in a place where you show him nothing but love and affection. Real Tears are gonna roll down his face with all the positive attention you gave him, no more of that hollow pit that is his heart and self esteem. Just you and him.......Forever.

(BMW Wukong) ♾️/10 He's been eligible of being a secret yandere for a while, and the fact that you kidnapped him he sees this as a courtnapping technique from you. He is yours and you are his, your affection return tenfold by a man who's just as deadly and loving as you.

(Destined one) ???/10 it's admittedly difficult to say considering he's so calm and collected no matter thr situation. You would think he's just coming up with a plan to escape, so he keeps a cool face but Don't worry you'll have all the time in the world to figure It out together but you better be careful he doesn't like to share either...

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG💘

[h50europe]

BUCK / TOMMY - HELL HATH NO FURY LIKE A FANDOM SCORNED!

I did some thinking. Never good, but my brain can't wrap around the breakup that came out of the left field.

Recently, it was announced that a spin-off of "9-1-1" is in the works. While no locations have been finalized, Hawaii and Las Vegas have been suggested as potential settings. The showrunner is already working on the project, with filming set to begin in March 2025.

However, one of my biggest fears has come true: the focus of the showrunners is being diverted from the current show to concentrate on this new spin-off. All the energy runs in the new project. Also, at this point, we don't know if the mothership will be renewed. Without an early renewal, we must wait until May for the announcement. That is another reason why they are focusing on the new show. I wonder if this is why the plots feel rushed and repetitive. It's nice to revisit the past, but not ad nauseam. 9-1-1 does it too often lately. What's the point in bringing back Gerard and turning him into the butt end of a joke? What's the point in digging out Abby's Tommy and hanging it around Tommy Kinard's neck when nothing was ever mentioned in the past. The focus is clearly not on the current show. It feels like Tim abandoned the ship to board a new one. It's fresh, it's crisp, it leaves room for a lot of things. Even if the breakup was meant as a shocker. If your focus is somewhere else, you don't see it. Right now, the mothership is leaking and starting to sink. If Tim keeps his focus on the new project and isn't invested in the current show, the lights will go out sooner rather than later.

Bringing in an established character was probably the biggest mistake Tim could have made if he wasn't meant to stick around. Bring in Mary Sue or Marty Stu to be a LI but not a character with a history that connects to so many people on the show. You can't sideline them forever. Especially as Buck's bi-arc was announced as something big. And it was big. A bit too big to be treated the way it was. The fanbase that had built around TEVAN, or BUCKTOMMY, within weeks, was massive. It drew so many members of the queer community into the show. Suddenly, many of them felt seen. Tommy and Buck were different from the other queer characters out there. Different from what was represented on any other show. People were willing to watch to get the slightest glimpse of them. Because they felt real. Their chemistry shot into the stratosphere.

And then you go and end it on such a horrible note? I don't care if the haters call Tommy a plot device. Everyone on the show is one at some point—even Christopher, Eddie, or anyone else from the main or recurrent cast, Karen, for instance, the Wilson kids. You name it. Tommy Kinard came, saw and conquered. So why not give him more room? They did it with Taylor (yes, I know JLH was pregnant then, but that's reason enough? I doubt it). As I said in my other long post, you could cut in a sequence of 5 minutes and show a summary of Tommy's and Buck's life.

Tim makes the same mistake as many showrunners do. Cramming a shitload of plots into 42 minutes of airtime. Is it really necessary to tell that many stories in such a short amount of time? That feels like speed dating. You blink, and you miss an important scene. Every episode, you jump from plot A to B to A to C to B. We didn't have this fast pacing in season 1 or 2. Stop it. Make Quality plots over quantity stuff.

In Tommy's voice: And for God's sake, clean up that mess you created with that shitty breakup, or the audience will wither away.

I'm sorry. I could write a book about what is happening in my head. You'd get Super Brownie points if you made it here.

[twilightkitkat]

What does Logan think of his claws? Does he like them? Does he hate them? Or are they just a part of him like the tail of a dog? Do they remind him of the violence he had lived through? Of how he used them to kill? Does he ever think of them in a positive way? How he uses them to defend the ones he loves? To climb trees and cut through high grass when he's in the woods? How they are a part of his skeleton? Or how they set him apart from the others? Do they make him more human or more animal?

Logan would have very ambivalent feelings toward his claws.

At first, he was scared of them. Scared of himself. Scared of the consequences of being a mutant. Scared of what he could do with them, to kill a man so easily.

(Scared of the implications. Was he human or not? Was he still a person? Did he still have a chance at a future?)

Eventually, he'd get used to using them in fights. As Logan and Victor fought together in tge wars, he started to view them more pragmatically. They were weapons, just like the guns other soldiers held. Nothing more, nothing less. He was just another soldier who had an extra card up his sleeve.

Logan didn't let himself see the claws as a part of himself at first, not like Victor. His first impression was killing his own father with those claws and watching him bleed out. He hid them away most of the time, opted for military weapons, and was forced to use them only in dire situations.

They were an escape plan. A last resort. Something he tried to hide to pass off as "normal." He felt disconnected from them, almost like they were separate from him.

And then he joined the Weapon X program. Which was full of mutants just like him. Where he was expected to actively use his claws inside of hide them.

And he adapted. He leaned into the instincts he'd long suppressed and passed off as adrenaline. He became familiar with the feeling of slashing and climbing and opening cans and using his claws for more than just a quick kill. He became acclimated with them, comfortable.

He never really liked his claws, not really. But he got used to them. He stopped fearing them as much and started to view them as an actual part of himself. (Even if that part of himself was directly tied to being used as a weapon. To being a human tool.)

And then came the X-men. And so he had to confront his internal conflict between being The Wolverine, an animal, and Logan, the human. It was easy to ignore when he was treated solely like a weapon. But now people expected him to care, to empathize, to be human when all people have wanted from him before was to use his animal side.

It was then that he really started thinking about his feelings on his claws. How they distinctly marked him as an animal, how they represented why he couldn't assimilate into society. How they hurt every time he unsheathed him, contorting in a way that human bones could never handle. They were a reminder, visible proof that he'd never fit in with society. That even when all he wanted was to be human and assimilate into their family, there was still a barrier. He'd lived for so long as The Wolverine that he forgot how to be Logan. (Let alone James.)

And then they were gone.

And in came Wade. And Wade didn't pressure him to be human and relearn all of his "animalistic" habits, nor did he demand he use his tendencies as a weapon. He just let him be.

And that's the thing. Logan's claws were never really Logan's. They were Victor's ally, Weapon X's tool, the X men's protector, but never his. They may be a part of him, but they weren't really his. Not in the ways that mattered.

And now... he gets to choose. Whether he uses his claws for violence. Who he uses them on, where, and why. Whether he wants to use them to open a bottle of beer or screw a nail into the wall.

It's freeing. Liberating.

It's the first time he felt his claws were really his. Like he had the final choice in his life. It's the first time he really appreciated them, now that he finally got to reap the benefits.

[silaslich]

May I make a request for a sequel to "In A Grave so we feel safe"? Something about it scratches an itch in my brain just right. Idk why, I think I just like it when you make 'im mean. 🫣🫣

Our skin starts to rot

Simon “Ghost” Riley x afab!reader

Summary - following from this. Simon hangs around despite the way he treats you like he can’t stand you. The feeling is mutual- to a point.

Wc - 3.8k

Cw - 18+, MDNI, GHOST IS NOT NICE, reader also is not nice, vomiting/purging, referenced/implied drug+alcohol abuse, coercive behaviour, mention of past trauma, smut, fingering, oral (r!receiving), kinda better dynamic toward the end but not really

Your fingernails scrape harshly over the roof of your mouth, and when you look into the bowl of the toilet- you see red.

You gather what’s left of the bile and blood in your mouth with your tongue and spit. Wanting rid of it. Needing to be rid of every last bit of it. All the shame and the guilt and the anxiety, it’s all churned up in your stomach, bought back up with whatever you’d managed to eat last night. Tears sting your eyes from the force and effort of purging, your spine bowed as you grip the white porcelain. Everything hurts. Your body aches. There’s a headache that is pounding like a drum behind your eyes.

The weight of his stare falls over you and so does the shame. You hear him sneer.

“You’re not pregnant are you?” He doesn’t sound as concerned as he should be considering the subject of his question.

There’s a broken laugh that’s hiccuped from your lungs as you wipe your nose with the back of your hand.

“Would it matter to you if I was?” There isn’t anything he can say to make this okay, you’d be happier if he didn’t answer at all. It doesn’t even take him a second to think.

“No” it’s clipped. There’s no emotion there.

You nod to yourself but you don’t say anything. There’s nothing to say. There never is. Holding a conversation with him is futile. It’s a waste of fucking breath.

He moves away, you can tell by the sound of his feet scuffing across the floor. Finally- you’re left alone. Allowed out of his sight. Not because he’s concerned, or because he cares. It’s because he wants the control. He knows that you like your own space. He knows that you don’t appreciate it when he lurks over you like a shadow. That’s exactly why he does it. It’s a tactic, like everything else he does, it’s calculated. He smarter than he looks- you’ll give him that.

He’s smart enough to know that, no, you aren’t pregnant. And there’s a very low chance of you being able to fall pregnant. You’ve had an IUD placed for as long as you’ve known him. He’s questioned you enough times about it before. Pinching the device under your skin, smirking when you wince at the pain. He’s asking to embarrass you, begging you to ask the question of what would happen between the two of you if you were in-fact pregnant with his child. He wants you to know that he wouldn’t change. That it wouldn’t make him step up or start to think about his actions.

He’s exhausting to be around, frankly, it’s a living nightmare. You thought you’d miss him. After Price had sent you packing there was a tiny part of you that really thought that you’d miss having Simon near. He’s different here than he used to be back on base or out of country. Maybe that’s because he had the others there, perhaps he didn’t want to let his true colours show for all to see. He clearly thinks very little of you, that and your opinion of him. He couldn’t care less about how you see him, how you perceive him. That does sting, just a little bit.

The water cools your skin as you wash your face, scrubbing the sleep from your eyes and brushing your teeth until your gums feel sore. This is the routine now. When he’s here at least, walking on eggshells in your own home, pretending that he doesn’t bother you as much as he does. You’re lying to yourself, and doesn’t he know it.

You emerge from your bathroom and tread back to your room to get ready for work. In the few months since he’d come crashing back into your life you’d managed to get somewhat of a hold on it again. It’s rubbish money and the hours are even worse but it helps in its own ways. You’re back to some sort of normalcy, outside of Simon and his whole existence within your life. It’s good, you hate to admit, your colleagues are nice enough and the job itself isn’t hard at all. It’s stable. It’s okay. You’ll be okay. Stacking tins and organising pasta on shelves hadn’t been a career aspiration of yours- but you’re alive.

The need for relief is better managed, if you can say that. It’s not always pretty. Some nights are better than others. Your drinking is controllable and the painkillers no longer have a death-like grip on your mind and needs. Sometimes it’s hard to stay afloat, to resist the urge to drink yourself to the point you can’t stand upright or crush tablets between your teeth and rub them into your gums with your tongue. It’s a slippery slope. You can only climb so high before a strong enough wind blows you back down, but growth is growth in your eyes. There’s a noticeable pattern too, it’s always worse when he’s around. He hardly helps the issue. He raids your cupboards and empties your work bag onto the floor every night to make sure you don’t have anything he deems as contraband. As if you’re a child.

The ironic thing is, that he wouldn’t care if it killed you, not really. Not deep down. It might inconvenience him, sure, but it wouldn’t affect him in his daily life. He’d move on to the next unfortunate soul. Hell, you’re probably not the only one he’s seeing, he’s probably already got someone else on the back burner for when you do eventually fuck your liver to the point of no return. It wouldn’t surprise you at all. Not from him.

You get ready and dress for work and head to the hallway that leads to the front door to grab your bag, you’ll sort lunch out at work, because you can hear him in the kitchen. It’s as your key slides into the lock that you hear him still in whatever he’s doing, you bite your tongue.

“I’m off to work” your voice sounds so foreign in your own ears.

There’s a few seconds of drawn out silence and you take that as your cue to leave. Then his voice cuts in again-

“Come ‘ere” it’s rough from his throat. Not yet warmed up since he’d awoken.

You grip the door handle, you could walk out so easily, pretend you haven’t heard him, but it’s hardly worth the aggravation. You leave your key abandoned in the lock and turn to make your way through the living room and toward the kitchen. It’s there that you find him leaning his hip against the counter, a mug of coffee steaming away in his hand, he’s looking right at you as you enter the space.

“Everything okay?” You ask, a brow raised. You’ll be late if he isn’t quick with whatever he wants. He raises a brow back at you.

“I said come ‘ere” he tilts his chin, eyeing up the space directly in front of him.

You blink long and hard to hide the way your eyes want to roll in your skull. You’ll definitely be late at this rate. You do as he wants, nevertheless, stepping right up to him and stopping when you feel the steam from his coffee under your nose. Practically black, as he always has it, barely a drop of milk and no sugar. He’s looking at you in that way that always manages to make you feel so small. Not physically, because that’s already a given. But small in the way that he sees you as inferior to him in every single way. You likely are, but he doesn’t have to make it so obvious to you.

“What is it?” Your temper shortens, just slightly.

His eyes narrow, he notices the shift. His free hand lifts to the side of your face, running a rough thumb over the apple of your cheek, it’s a tender gesture. On the surface level.

“Come and see Price” his voice has softened, just that little bit, the way it does when he wants you to do something he knows you won’t want to.

He wants you to believe he’s on your side. It’s immediate the way you shake your head, he hadn’t even finished speaking.

“Simon- we’ve already talked about this” your patience is thinned to almost nothing. He could have said something earlier, long before you’re walking out the door to catch the next bus.

“Yeah, and you’re not seeing it from my perspective” he eyes you from over his nose, again, making you feel small. There’s a sour taste at the back of your throat.

“When do you ever try to see things from my perspective?” You raise your chin, if he wants an argument over this, you worry he’ll get what he’s after.

He brings his mug to his lips, staring at you from over the lip of it.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever stooped low enough to see things from your point of view, sweetheart” you can’t see his lips but you’re convinced you’d see a smirk there if you could. Your fists clench at your sides.

“I find that very hard to believe” you know little of Simon’s past, but you know enough to know that he is indeed lying. It’s another tactic, another way to get under your skin and piss you off. For his own pure enjoyment.

“Yeah? Try me” he lowers his mug and places it on the counter. His full attention on you. He folds his arms over his bare chest, his tattoos right in your line of sight.

There’s only so low that you’re willing to go, but whatever you say- you know that Simon will have something worse to say about you. That’s just a given with him.

“No no you’re right” you wave him off, stepping out of his space and turning to face the windows across the living room.

A beat of silence.

“Tommy was the druggie, right? Not you”

It’s audible, the way his jaw clicks. You don’t move.

“That’s right” his voice is flat, but you know him well enough to know that he’s annoyed, pissed beyond belief. Maybe not at what you’ve said, but that you’ve dared to say anything at all.

“Means I know a lost cause when I see one” you hear his body shift, the way his right shoulder clicks. Adjusting his stance.

You nod, silently. That’s his perception of you. It hardly rings true, a few months ago? Maybe. Now? You give yourself enough credit to know that you’re doing the right thing. Keeping this job. Not crawling back to Price. It settles the nagging feeling in your chest. You’re trying, at least. Making an effort.

“Why are you still here?” Still- you don’t turn to face him.

You keep your eyes glued to the way the world ticks by outside the window, there’s satisfaction in knowing he can’t see just how unbothered you are at his words. Before, you would have given him what he wanted and cried. Would have screamed and shouted in his face. An accusing finger pressed into his chest. You’d spat at him, once. Then he’d grab you and pull you close, pressing your snotty tear-stained face into the flesh of his chest and make a spectacle of soothing you. Telling you how he forgives you, how he knows it’s the booze and drugs talking- not you. He’d say that you’ll feel better in the morning and tug you into bed or towards the nearest waist-level surface and fuck you raw and slow and everlasting until you’re a puddle of nothing. Dumb and boneless- everything he already believes you to be.

He makes a noise. One that if it were translated into English, it would sound like ‘what the fuck are you on about?’

“I asked you why you’re here”

“Yeah, I heard you” his tone stiffens, it’s clear he doesn’t have an answer for you, therefore- he won’t answer.

There’s a few moments where the silence tells. There’s the sound of a car horn blaring outside and the birds that live in the gutter above your window chirp and sing, it’s the way life just keeps humming away- despite everything. Despite it all.

Simon moves and you stay stood still. You turn your head, watching out the corner of your eye as he walks toward you, he doesn’t look you in the eye. Instead looking out of the window as you had been. You follow his line of sight, watching the same cyclist ride past as he does.

“You treat me like shit y’know” you don’t know why you’ve said it. The thought had just been there, at the front of your mind and the tip of your tongue.

He turns his head, just slightly, to look at you. You feel his eyes- they burn.

“I treat everyone like shit” he returns his gaze to the glass, hands slid into the pockets of his trackie bottoms.

You laugh. It breezes past your lips so easily, so freely. You turn your gaze to him, noticing the way his jaw hardens when you do.

“No you don’t” you don’t take your eyes away from his face. You can’t.

For a moment you remember who he is- what he is. And in that moment you find yourself feeling sorry for him. Maybe he deserves more credit, because he could treat you a lot worse, realistically. It’s the one thing you tell yourself when he’s around, that he could be so much worse. It’s not a defence, no, it’s a lifeline. He’s suffered as you have and maybe that’s why you let him treat you the way he does, because that’s what you think you’re worth. Rough hands and sharp words and glaring eyes. It rolls off your back better these days, it’s easier to shrug off.

Simon hums, he’s caught out and he knows it.

“No- no I don’t” he rolls his shoulders until the right one cracks- again.

You bite the tip of your tongue. There’s so much you need to say to him and it’s never the right time or circumstance. You walk on eggshells around him because you can’t deal with the consequences of his temper and his irrationality. For someone who commands a platoon and leads so naturally, he’s the most pig-headed man you’ve ever met. He doesn’t want to hear your opinion or listen to you explain your point, even if he knows you’re right and he’s wrong.

“Why are you really here?” You’re still looking at him and your chest squeezes when he casts his eyes to the side, barely eyeing you. You’ve always loved his eyes.

They soften, if only slightly, it shows he’s considering the question. That he might not shrug it off like he does everything else.

“I don’t know” Simon’s voice carries that lilt to it, the one that reminds you of the man you’d first welcomed into your home- into your bed. Soft voice and attentive hands. Like he could actually stand being near you.

For a few seconds, it’s as if the world outside stops. The birds aren’t chirping and the traffic has cleared. Even the breeze stills, there’s nothing but the sounds of the both of you breathing. Out of sync. Always.

There’s a weight that dislodges from your chest. You didn’t realise you’d been carrying it for so long. Ultimately burdened by it. You haven’t got any answers, none that would clear away the ache in your heart when he looks at you in that knowing way. But somehow, there’s a satisfaction to knowing that he’s as lost as you are, the same way that you don’t understand why you let him stay- he doesn’t know why he stays either.

He stiffens slightly when he feels you at his side. Head and left shoulder pressed into his ribs and arm respectively. He quickly slackens his muscles, leaning into you slightly.

“We’re as bad as each other” the words are a little incoherent, your cheek smushed against his arm.

You’re not bothered if he hears it or not at this point. It wouldn’t matter. You only know he’s heard you by the way he sighs, craning his neck to lean the side of his head against the top of yours.

“I’m afraid I’m worse” he says it matter-of-factly. It’s the truth, to him.

“Much worse” his voice dies away, slightly. Not as though he’s embarrassed by the words, but perhaps because he knows you’re acutely aware.

You’re fully aware that he’s worse than you, in every sense of the fucking word. You’ve been sugar coating things, telling him what he wants to hear instead of what he needs to hear. He can appreciate that to a point. But he doesn’t need it. He doesn’t need the softness. That sentiment had been beaten out of him long ago, long before the Army sank its claws into him too. He knows what’s right and what’s wrong, it’s as if he doesn’t have the ability to physically stop himself from doing and saying things he doesn’t mean. In a military setting he can be loud and brash and rude; it’s his job. He spends his days as someone else’s superior, telling them when they can and can’t piss, telling them where and when they will die- essentially.

It’s hard for him to kick that habit when he’s out of that setting. When lives aren’t on the line. Yet, you’re right; he doesn’t treat Price or Gaz or Johnny that way. He can’t explain why, and that’s worse than if he could. He’s just a bad person, that’s what it ultimately boils down to at the end of the day.

It’s all he can think of as he takes you by the hand, watching your wide eyes watch him; pushing you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the sofa. Somehow, it’s different, for reasons he can’t think of. Simon Riley has never been a religious man-

Is this what repenting feels like?

He handles you differently, in his own way. The way he thinks he knows how. When he removes your clothes he’s no longer chasing something, that deep-dark spot in his vision that blurs his rationality is gone.

It’s too late for redemption- to prove that he can be something he’s not; because he can’t. He’d be lying and you know that, so you won’t ask that of him, you wouldn’t expect it either.

He holds your gaze as he presses his lips to the mound of your pussy. He watches how your chest heaves, sucking in air through your mouth, like a deer in headlights. This is so foreign from him, the tenderness, the gentleness of his hands and his mouth. No gnashing teeth or bruising fingers. There’s only featherlight touches- to begin with.

Simon warms you up the way he should. Sliding his tongue through the lips of your pussy, gathering the wetness he finds already there- he hasn’t even started with you yet, not really. There’s a slight smile that creeps up the side of his mouth at that. You tell him how much you hate him, but he has this effect on you; that in itself calls your bluff.

He listens to the way your breath stutters, feeling the way your hips cant into the wait of his mouth when he slows down or stops completely. Your juices are smeared across his lips and down his chin, he rubs his face into your pussy, slathering himself in your wetness. He wants to smell you on his skin tomorrow when he leaves, because he will leave, if you really want him to.

“Oh- oh fuck” he plucks these sounds out of you so easily.

He curls two thick fingers into the tightness of your cunt, reeling at how easy your pussy sucks him in. So needy. So eager for anything he’ll give. He watches his digits disappear, barely wanting to take his eyes off of yours but needing to visualise the feeling of your tight hole sucking him in, clamping like a vice around his fingers as he fucks them deeper inside of you.

“There?” He asks, curling his fingers, watching you nod your head wildly.

“So wet f’me” his voice drags, drunk on your pussy.

It’s like electricity hits his bones when he presses his mouth to you again, lapping at your clit while he continues to pump his fingers into you. Matching rhythm. Swirling his tongue, beckoning you with the wet muscle in his mouth, luring you to the edge. When you curl your fingers into the length of hair at the top of his head, that’s when he’s really spurred on. Letting you rub your pussy all over his face, burying his nose in the mound of flesh there, nipping teeth when you get too bold for his liking- because he’s still in charge here.

“Soo desperate” he tries to be cruel with his tone but it goes right over your head.

He feels the way your walls clamp around his fingers. The way your breathing grows ragged, sloppy thrusts of your hips against his mouth and tongue, pushing yourself closer and closer to the edge as Simon fights to pull you there.

“Oh- a-a fuck Si” you’re a stuttering mess. “M’close-”

You’re practically gushing when you cum. He laps at you like he hasn’t before, listening to cries of his own name that bounce off the walls. The sounds of your pussy oozing against his mouth make his cock leak in his boxers. Hard and untouched. He stutters his hips, seeking any kind of friction.

There isn’t any; but watching and feeling you squirm under him like this is a new found thing. He’s had you on your back more times than he can think to count. Yet, none have felt like this- not even in the early days when things were right between the two of you.

Maybe it’s because things have indeed shifted, that maybe you’ve solidified your belief that you deserve better - that this might be it for him.

Even when you almost pull his hair from the roots, riding his nose as he rides you through your orgasm. Your spine arching off the sofa cushion, needing more despite the fact that he’s given you everything.

“Oh -Simon” it’s hissed through your teeth. He’s doing too much now, clamping his fingers into your thighs, not wanting to let go.

It’s the greediness in him. He wants too much of everything, he has no control. There isn’t that little voice in his head that tells him he’s had enough, that he’s done enough. Not that he would listen to it.

He finally lets up, leaning back on his heels, still knelt between your thighs. Eyes watching yours, you’re staring up at the ceiling. Eyes hooded, lips agape, breath ragged- he can’t help but think you look beautiful.

So why has he never said it before?

He leans his cheek against your thigh, eyes still watching your face, then you feel them- feel his gaze. Your eyes snap to his and for a moment, you look remorseful. Then you open your mouth to speak-

“We’re still not friends”

[rosenotactuallyquartz]

i can’t be the only one who thinks rose’s flings with humans were partially self destructive

rebecca sugar often describes rose as self destructive. people self destruct in many ways.

i say this as a girl who’s been in relationships where i knew i was treated poorly but subconsciously believed it was what i deserved. if a good person who knew me well showed interest, i’d feel confused. i think you’re so good and i’m nothing like you type of thing.

(if you couldn’t already tell, i also deal with self hatred, though i’m a lot more self aware than i used to be)

rose saw the good in everyone but herself. she was naive, impulsive, & had a tendency to “worship” those around her, believing they were better than her. she was fascinated by humans but didn’t know the norms or labels of human relationships. she didn’t know or understand much about humans, period. i.e., letting a human baby climb a ferris wheel in greg the babysitter.

rose was initially drawn to humans out of fascination. she saw so much beauty in the most simple parts of humanity.

but people don’t always have the best intentions

i can’t help but wonder if some people took advantage, knowing that rose didn’t understand everything about human relationships. for some humans, i’m in no doubt that they found her intriguing & her powers were obviously beneficial for them, but they didn’t respect her or care to try & get to know her. i’m sure some humans weren’t horrible, but clearly her connections with all of them until the 90s were unremarkable. they’d be attracted to her for surface level reasons.

rose thought this was just how human connections worked. even though it would feel…bad sometimes, rose believed she deserved to feel that way. after all, she said herself that it was “a good thing” if people didn’t know her well.

she didn’t think she deserved genuine love from someone who truly knew her, someone who knew her past self. when a relationship felt good, she’d feel guilty, despite deeply & genuinely loving that person who cared for her.

that’s why she’s so surprised when a human treats her with decency in we need to talk. why she laughs when he says the word respect. why she says, “is this not how this works?”

she’s never had a relationship with a human that was caring & respectful. having conversations about respect & wanting to get to know a person are very simple things. this doesn’t make him “better” than any of the crystal gems—he’s just better than the other humans she knew.

as the next three years go by, rose continues to be self destructive. they don’t know about each other’s pasts & they have a shared coping mechanism: escapism. this is why sugar has said that they enable each other, which is unfortunate yet unsurprising because they cope in similar ways. she never opens up to him about her feelings surrounding past trauma, and he doesn’t either—even when some serious decisions are made. rose couldn’t stand herself & she didn’t feel deserving of love. the more people know about her, the less deserving she feels, which makes her avoidant & confusing in relationships.

nevertheless, she genuinely loves those around her, which is partly why she passes her life on to someone she believes deserves to live & be loved more than she does

as she said in nora’s tape in lion 4, i’m so excited for everyone who’s going to know you. from the very start, she believed that the best thing she could do for the people she loved was leave behind someone who deserved to be around them. someone who was worth loving.

with all of that said i hate the way the fandom talks about her character sometimes

[gaywarcriminals]

On Mouthwashing, Qijiu, cruel characters, and the role of discomfort in blorbo analysis. 

I recently watched a playthrough and some video essays about the indie horror game Mouthwashing (spoilers ahead). For those not familiar, the game follows a man named Jimmy in a crashed spaceship where he reveals himself to be an unreliable narrator and fucked up in a variety of ways as the game progresses. 

Although I’m not immersed in the fandom and thus have a limited sample size, I noticed that people treat him as nearly inhuman. He’s the sole bad actor, a terrible monster destined to hurt everyone. I find this deeply ironic considering the game’s themes of responsibility and accountability: isn’t this kind of dehumanization absolving him of his responsibility to act decently?

It’s also strange to me, because the game goes at lengths to show Jimmy has an enabler. Captain Curly is Jimmy’s friend and boss who is made aware of Jimmy’s erratic and violent behavior multiple times, chooses to do nothing, and ultimately makes possible many deaths through his inaction. Aside from Jimmy’s public outbursts, there are even scenes with a specific member of their crew expressing how unsafe she feels around Jimmy. Despite this, a decent portion of the fandom sees Curly as nothing more than one of Jimmy’s victims, which is curious to me when placed in contrast with Yue Qingyuan and Shen Jiu.

Yeah yeah I’m blorbo-brained, but I think there’s a lot of points for comparison between Qijiu and Jimmy & Curly, at least in terms of their dynamic and social roles. Jimmy and Shen Jiu are both antisocial assholes with an unhealthy fixation on the generally well liked and affable guy just above them on the totem poll. They’re both convinced their superior is looking down on them, and resent the power he has (SJ less so, he has a lot of other reasons to resent YQY). They both use what power they do have to abuse those below them. Curly and YQY, for their parts, are shown to be explicitly aware of most if not all of their friend’s worrying/dangerous behavior, but do nothing meaningful to stop it. 

If they’re so similar, then why in the case of Mouthwashing is Curly often absolved of his complicity in the face of Jimmy’s overwhelmingly awful actions, whereas in the Scum Villain fandom, it’s just as common to see people pin all of SJ’s actions on YQY and vice versa?

Now, there’s a couple obvious reasons for this. For one, Mouthwashing is a horror game and Jimmy very effectively makes himself the antagonist, which lends itself to the interpretation of him as a the monster afflicting the other characters. For another, Jimmy sexually abused a shipmate, which is a particularly despicable crime (although so, I would argue, is child abuse). There’s also the fact that Curly is very physically robbed of agency for most of the game’s runtime, which might make it harder to see his power and agency before that point, but perhaps the most important difference is that to fans, Jimmy is deeply unlikable, and Shen Jiu is not. 

Personally, I think the reason a lot of people make Jimmy out to be a monster and Shen Jiu to be tragically misunderstood is simple: it can be uncomfortable to like a bad person. 

I don’t think there should be any shame in liking characters who are fucked up people that do horrible things, but I think it chafes at some sensibility within many of us, learned or innate, when we feel such deep emotional connection to a character who’s actions we would normally morally condemn. 

I’ve definitely observed that in some parts of the Shen Jiu fandom– it's the kind of sentiment that leads to discounting his canonical actions in favor of fanon. I’ve never found those fanons very compelling because I have never had any discomfort with Shen Jiu’s canonical actions— in fact, him being a despicable if pitiable mess is what drew me to him (I’m typically quite the fucked-up-evil-guy liker). For once, though, I find myself on the other side of this discomfort with Yue Qingyuan. 

I was thinking today about how one of the earliest things YQY says to SY!SQQ— his 9th line in the novel— was telling SQQ that LBH is strung up in the woodshed, where SQQ always leaves him after beating him. It implies not just that YQY knows about this singular punishment, but that this is an extended pattern of behavior. To me, YQY seems uncomfortable with the situation, but he does nothing to stop LBH from being abused aside from telling SQQ to “be less hard on him”, even though he’s the only person in the sect above SQQ, and potentially the only one with the authority to stop him. 

If Yue Qingyuan knew, did Luo Binghe know the sect leader had found out? Did Luo Binghe know he had been abandoned to his fate?

Like Curly, I think that Yue Qingyuan’s most unforgivable fault as a character was enabling Shen Jiu’s abuse of Luo Binghe and potentially other disciples. I think YQY’s motivations made sense, and I understand the choices he made, but when I think about it for too long I can feel a deep pit in my stomach grow. 

Why does YQY’s arguably lesser crime of enabling SJ bother me so much more than SJ’s own direct actions? Perhaps because I still want to see Yue Qingyuan as a good person, whereas Shen Jiu has already declared himself evil. Maybe I’ve been a little bit caught up in our unreliable narrator’s point of view. 

Fascinatingly, despite his adoration for Luo Binghe, Shen Yuan cum Shen Qingqiu never (to my recollection at least), blames Yue Qingyuan for SJ’s actions. Instead, he sees YQY as one of SJ’s victims— someone that SJ as good as killed, even if it was LBH’s orders that loosed the arrows. 

Shen Qingqiu has a tendency to, for lack of a better term, woobify his favs, and although LBH is by far the most frequent recipient of this treatment, I’d argue that YQY actually receives it more consistently. This is partially because he’s relegated to friendly NPC whereas poor Binghe is the Big Scary Protagonist, but the only time in the whole novel I can think of SQQ seeing YQY as a person capable of harm and fucking up is after YQY’s confession where SQQ puts it together with SJ’s flashbacks, but even then, SQQ sees him more as a cautionary tale for him and Binghe than someone who’s hurt others. Given this narrative bias, I’m honestly surprised* that more of the fandom isn’t simping for YQY too.

Ultimately, I think this discomfort is normal and worthwhile– something to lean into rather than away from. I’d even say it's necessary, should we ever hope to be more media literate than Peerless Cucumber.

*well, I’m not, but that’s a whole piece of fandom history better left untouched

[malk1ns]

november 11 2024 vs stars, 7-1 loss

yikes!

no soulbond verse for this game because like. what even. tw for breakups because they pissed me off and i'm taking it out on them this way.

Zhenya goes through the Dallas game in a haze.

They’re losing badly. He tries on the ice, but he’s distracted. He flubs shots and mistimes passes, and in between shifts he sits at the end of the bench and stares down at nothing, shrugging off teammates and coaches alike.

Sid keeps looking at him, peering around whoever is serving as a buffer between them to try and catch Zhenya’s eye, calling their line in before faceoffs when Sully sends them out together, but for all Zhenya listens to his plays and nods along, he won’t look directly at Sid.

He doesn’t know how he’d react right now, if Sid tried to talk to him like he had after practice yesterday, catching him right when Zhenya was about to make his escape to the locker rooms and talking earnestly at him about acting normal and making sure the team isn’t impacted.

Fuck the team, and fuck Sidney Crosby too. Right now, Zhenya couldn’t possibly care less.

He lets off some steam in the third, going after someone in a green and white jersey and cussing out the ref who leads him to the box, but by the time the final buzzer mercifully sounds even that fit of temper has passed, plunging him back into the hazy malaise he’s worn since Sid broke up with him after they landed in Pittsburgh on Friday night.

Zhenya had been exhausted after a long road trip, looking forward to bundling Sid back to his house and installing them both on his enormous bed to cuddle and watch TV until they wound down enough to sleep. Instead, Sid had paused by Zhenya’s car, taken his elbow, and earnestly told him that he felt like what they were doing, what they’d started up last spring after what felt like over a decade of slow-burn pining, was a distraction. Was a bad idea. Was bad for their hockey.

Well, Zhenya hopes Sid’s happy. His grand plan sure did a lot for the team and their hockey tonight.

Sully talks at them in the room after the game, voice raised and urgent. Zhenya tunes him out, wonders if he’ll be fired soon. Zhenya hasn’t talked much to Kyle, whose focus since he got hired has been pretty much exclusively on Sid, but surely after a game like this the front office is considering making moves.

Losing is one thing. Embarrassing themselves like that at home is another. 

Zhenya wonders vaguely what Sid’s parents will have to say. They’ve been trailing the Penguins practically the whole season, waiting for Sid to hit his milestones, and Zhenya’s spent a lot of time with them as a result. He’s not entirely sure what Sid’s told them, but Trina’s been kind, caring in a way that made Zhenya miss his own mama fiercely, and Troy liked to bend Zhenya’s ear about international hockey. They’ve been around when Zhenya’s shown up after bad losses, late at night and seeking comfort from his boyfriend.

Sid will have to come up with some explanation for why Zhenya’s suddenly dropped out of their lives. Between that and this loss, Zhenya imagines it won’t be a pleasant conversation. He can’t even find joy in that.

At least Zhenya’s parents will only want to talk to him about that penalty he took in the third. He hasn’t breathed a word about Sid to them, not even when they were in almost constant contact all summer. He’d been scared, little-boy frightened of making his parents angry, and while at the time he’d felt guilty, like he was treating Sid like something shameful, he can’t help but be grateful for it now.

When Sully leaves, Zhenya stands and mechanically strips off his baselayers. The sooner he can get home, the better.

“G.” Sid’s suddenly standing next to him, clutching a towel and looking worried. “Bud, hey, can we talk?”

Zhenya, for the first time in his tenure on the Pittsburgh Penguins, shoulders past Sid without a single word or acknowledgement. 

Sid can take his fake concern and shove it up his ass. It’s not his business anymore, how Zhenya’s feeling.

He’ll handle it on his own.