#one or two is most active and actually interacts with me

[floralovebot]

i am once again thinking about the missed opportunities of a garth and jackson mentor/mentee brother in arms relationship

[arolesbianism]

Thinking abt the second dream story featuring a third dream story I can't remember if I ever talked abt. I <3 body horror bonus points if its slow and agonizing

[anothermonikan]

idk what even even happened this time but like. rain world fandom kinda sucking a lot is not news to me lol. idk what it was like pre-2024 (basically when I got into the game) (it was December 2023 but close enough) but idk. It's been quite rare to get nice interactions from people, feels like everyone here is like 15 and still thinks it's cool to be mean to random people online yeah. I literally don't go in the rain world tags myself because of stuff like this.

[jade-zzz]

INTERMEZZO

( platonic batfam x neglected reader)

SUMMARY : The family reels under a rising tide of public backlash. As headlines vilify their pursuit against crime, an unexpected solution is offered: reaching out to Bruce's estranged firstborn, a figure trusted by the people, ultimately forcing the family to confront their past. TRIGGER WARNINGS ! Child Neglect. No other warnings at this moment.

a/n : this is just me spitting out an old idea i had, most likely wont become a series or a p2. but a lot of neglected reader stories start off with them young and uninvolved with the vigilante scene and i was like 'oh yeah, let me make reader a badass crime fighter so they have a chance against these crazies. if this was longer it would eventually continue into batfam becoming yandere but theres none of that here dw Interactions and Reblogs encouraged!

The Batcave was bathed in the cold, sterile glow of the Batcomputer’s multiple monitors. A sickly blue light flickered over the dark, cavernous space, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch in every direction. The screens were awash in a flood of headlines, each one a blade dipped in poison. Bruce sat motionless before them, his jaw clenched, lips pressed into a thin, hard line, as if the words themselves had weight enough to crush him. The same phrases repeated over and over, like the beat of a relentless drum:

“Vigilante Justice: A Dying Breed?”

“Do vigilantes cause escalation in criminal activity?”

“Batman’s War Against Crime: Our Cost”

Each headline felt like a knife twisting deeper, the rot of public opinion spreading faster than a wildfire. The truth, it seemed, no longer mattered—only the perception.

Jason’s figure loomed above them, leaning casually against the railing of the upper level. His arms were folded tightly, muscles tensed in a way that seemed natural to him. The flickering glow of the monitors cast eerie highlights across his face as he surveyed the headlines with squinted eyes. “I gotta admit,” he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing. “This one... actually makes a few decent points.”

“Don’t start,” Dick shot back, his voice sharp but tired. He was sitting on the stone steps, his hand running through his hair in a frustrated motion. 

Tim, seated at the foot of the steps with his legs folded cross-legged and a tablet in hand, was already knee-deep in data, scanning through analytics with practiced ease. Empty energy drink cans—some familiar, some strange—littered the ground around him, a quiet testament to his dedication to stay awake for this situation. "They’re using our own cases against us," Tim said, his voice low and serious, his gaze never leaving the screen. "Even if we are the good guys, that only goes so far. Gotham knows we’re willing to work outside the law.”

The sharp clicking of keys echoed in the cave as Barbara’s fingers flew across the Batcomputer’s keyboard. Every keystroke seemed like a futile attempt to dam the rising tide of bad press. But for every article she deleted, two more appeared. "I won’t be able to keep this under wraps for much longer," she said, her voice tight with frustration. “Gotham Gazette ran the story last night, but now it’s on CNN, Forbes, The Times. The commentators are tearing it apart.”

Barbara paused, scanning an article that flickered on her screen. “It’s all cherry-picked data,” she muttered, shaking her head in disbelief. “They’re drawing correlations without even attempting to prove causation. It’s all smoke and mirrors. But people are desperate for a reason to turn against us.” She looked up, her eyes meeting Bruce’s. “And that’s what they want. Someone to blame.”

From the dark corner near the Batmobile, Damian’s voice cut through the tension like a dagger. He had been silent until now, observing from the shadows, his figure barely visible in the dim light. “They don’t want truth,” he said, his tone cold and detached, almost predatory. “They want a scapegoat. And Father”—his eyes flicked to Bruce, his expression unreadable—“is the easiest target.”

No one dared to disagree.

The Batcave settled into a thick, suffocating silence. The low hum of the machines filled the space, a soft, mechanical murmur that only seemed to highlight the oppressive quiet. From the cavernous walls, water dripped steadily, each drop a tiny echo in the vast emptiness. Above them, the city pulsed with life—its towering lights burning bright against the ink-black sky. Below, however, the family who had sworn to protect it sat, bound together by blood, sweat, and the weight of their shared past, in a silence heavier than lead, an unspoken acknowledgment of something that had shifted irrevocably.

Bruce stepped away from the console, his movements slow and deliberate. He stood for a moment, staring at the glowing screens before him, his face drawn, his expression unreadable. “We’ve survived worse.” His voice, when it came, was low—raspy, like it had been dragged through the years with him. Yet there was something different now. This wasn’t just another crisis. It wasn’t just the press or another criminal on the streets. This hit too close to home. This was a reminder of his very beginning, of the fragile thread that connected him to the man he had once been.

‘Armed robbery, double homicide, has a taste for the theatrical, like you.’ The words Jim Gordon had spoken to him long ago echoed in his mind, the memory of that first case—a playing card left behind, like a message that would haunt him forever.

Barbara’s voice broke through his thoughts, soft but firm. “But we haven’t mended worse,” she said, her gaze not leaving the screen in front of her. “This one’s different. People used to think of us as the lesser evil. Now, they’re starting to wonder if we’re just another form of crime.” The words struck Bruce harder than he cared to admit. She wasn’t wrong. In their attempt to be Gotham’s saviors, they had come to embody something far darker in the eyes of the public. They had always lived in the shadows, but now those shadows were threatening to swallow them whole.

Alfred, standing near the table with a tray of untouched tea—its warm fragrance drifting through the room—cleared his throat, cutting through the tension. "Perhaps what’s needed," he said carefully, his voice measured, "is not another war fought in the shadows, but a reminder that others still stand with you."

Bruce’s eyes flicked toward him, his gaze narrowing, as if weighing the butler’s words. The others followed suit, their expressions unreadable, waiting for Alfred to elaborate.

“What are you suggesting, Alfred?” Bruce’s voice was edged with uncertainty, something he rarely allowed to show.

The butler gave a small, measured nod, his hands setting the tray down with the practiced grace of someone who had spent decades in the service of this family. "I believe, Master Wayne, that what the people need is reassurance. A bridge. Someone they trust. A voice they still believe in."

Jason raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "There’s not exactly a waiting list of pro-vigilante influencers out there, Alf."

“On the contrary,” Alfred said, a quiet confidence in his tone. "There is one. Someone still admired by the people. A symbol of protection, not fear. They’ve worked openly with first responders, collaborated with officials, stayed in the public’s good graces and operated within the law..."

Tim blinked, his mind struggling to process the thought. “In Gotham?”

Dick’s eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. “Wait… you’re talking about—?”

Bruce’s expression darkened, a flicker of something unreadable flashing in his eyes. But the question hung in the air, unspoken, like an invisible thread tugging at the edges of his resolve.

Alfred’s lips curled into a faint, wistful smile, his voice gentle as he spoke again, almost as if recalling a cherished memory. “Yes. I am referring to your firstborn child, Master Wayne.”

The silence that followed was absolute, a sudden detonation of shock and disbelief that rocked the room. Damian froze mid-step. Tim and Jason exchanged a glance, eyes wide with uncertainty. Barbara shifted in her chair, almost as if waiting for someone to confirm that she hadn’t misheard. Dick’s throat tightened, a knot of guilt coiling in his chest. The past was a fragile thing, fragile enough that sometimes it felt better to pretend it didn’t exist. But in moments like this, the weight of regret bore down on him like an anchor, pulling him deeper into a well of emotion he had long since tried to forget.

Bruce remained still, frozen, his gaze distant. "They haven't been involved in family matters like this for years..." His voice trailed off, thick with the unspoken history between them. The bitterness in his words wasn’t lost on anyone in the room.

“And yet,” Alfred countered, his voice soft but unyielding, “they have remained exactly what this city needed from us.”

A long, heavy pause lingered in the room. The truth was that Bruce had not heard from them in years—not since they had left everything behind at eighteen, vanishing from the world they had known. Alfred had maintained a fragile connection, sending occasional messages through a burner phone, reminding Bruce of their existence whenever he saw their exploits on the news, despite his stubbornness to avoid all topics linked to them. But how long had it been since any of the family had tried to reach out? How long since anyone had even bothered to speak to them, beyond the occasional fleeting word, a distant acknowledgment of someone they once knew?

“People trust them,” Alfred continued, his voice softer now, almost tender. “They believe in their methods. Their clarity. Their distance from... all of this.” He gestured around the cave, to the monitors, to the chaos, to the shadows. “If there’s anyone who could speak to your cause and be heard, it would be them.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened. “They wouldn’t want to be dragged back into this.”

“No,” Alfred agreed, his voice calm, “but perhaps they deserve the choice. After all, they didn’t walk away without cause.”

Another silence fell, heavy with the weight of years and regrets left unspoken. Bruce’s mind churned, searching for answers in the fragmented memories of a younger version of himself. He tried to picture their face, but the years had stolen the details—just a pair of small eyes peering up at him from behind Alfred’s legs when they had first arrived at Wayne Manor. 

“It might be nice,” Alfred added softly, almost as an afterthought, “to have them on your side again.”

A/N: feeling devious hinting towards something happening in the past but not mentioning it,, meanwhile reader is sitting on their sofa, watching the news as their prayers for their families downfall worked

[rambles-about-minecraft-ocs]

theres something so funny to me when hermits are talking about redstone and theyre like "and then theres an etho hopper clock here-"

like. of course they use etho hopper clocks, itd be weirder if they actively avoided using it, considering its like. a redstone thingy that is very useful and still works even after all this time, and from what i understand it was like. a pretty big deal in terms of useful things you could do with redstone back when he first made it because it opened up ways to do even more things with redstone

and like for the most part theyve probably been referring to that particular thing as an etho hopper clock for longer than theyve even known etho personally, considering the etho hopper clock predates his joining hermitcraft by at least 1-2 years, and several of the other hermits joining hermitcraft by even more. so of course they still call it that

on a related note, most of them likely had at least heard of etho before meeting him, even if they didnt personally watch him (tho i know some did) since he was an old school minecraft youtuber. like his original season 1 of "lets play minecraft" started when minecraft was so new it hadnt been officially released yet. literally back in minecraft alpha. he was a minecraft youtuber OG

so with those two points taken into consideration it completely makes sense that "etho hopper clock" is something ingrained into the terminology of anyone that does stuff with redstone somewhat regularly. theres no reason it wouldnt be

but when you put it into contrast with like. their actual interactions with etho. it kind of cracks me up???

its like. in my head the vibes are this: imagine building something and being like "okay guys, for this machine we need to use an archimedes screw, which is named of course after its inventor archimedes, a man so genius that to this day he is regarded as one of the most brilliant inventors and mathematicians to ever walk this earth" and then like thirty minutes later you go to a restaurant and you see archimedes, of classic antiquity fame, trying to eat a sandwich but the ingredients keep falling out in increasingly comedic manners. so you of course call him pathetic to his face, and then ask if he wants to try out your new totally-not-a-scam product that you carry on you at all times for opportunities like these. and for some reason he doesnt just say yes, but buys two

[galactipunks]

I was recently exposed to the rabbit hole that is Minecraft horror mods and it honestly really disappointed me. So much so that I thought up my own horror mod in response with some key distinctions to make it feel actually scary:

Be as subtle as possible to the point that the player can't tell whether a mod or a weird glitch is causing the effects. Not only is it scarier to take advantage of the existing horror within vanilla but doing this would really mess with veteran players who know the game in-and-out.

Rely on ambient psychological horror. No jumpscares, no threats, no escalation, not even anything flatly disadvantageous. The mod would just weaponize the player's paranoia against themselves.

Be really nefarious as to take full advantage of the insane adjustability that Minecraft has with all its internal options, gamerules and mechanics as well as use the player's acquaintance of the game against them. It should be a horror idea that could only work within Minecraft.

So here's the idea I got from all of this (mind you, I have no idea if a mod like this already exists):

Every in-game day there's a 5% chance (3% if you slept with a bed) for an event to occur from this mod. This chance is fixed and never changes. When an event occurs, its chosen randomly from a very exhaustive list of different events and (depending on what type of event it is) will either occur once or persist until the next event. The likelihood of every event is identical. So this system for pulling them is entirely static and random. Additionally, the chance is rolled again whenever an event occurs. Meaning there's an incredibly low chance for you to experience two or more events in the same day.

So what do these events do? Well, they're designed to mess with the player in the most subtle ways possible. Often specifically targeting their memory, understanding of game mechanics and overall familiarity with Minecraft. The intended effect is to give the player a creeping sense of powerlessness in a sandbox game that they are otherwise completely in control over. Some possible events could be:

Hearing a sound effect in the distance from a source that isn't real.

Having an item currently in a chest/furnace change its amount or position.

Replacing a current painting sprite with another one of the same size.

Having a door/trapdoor be activated (i.e. opened if it was closed and closed if it was opened).

Skipping a full day from sleeping rather than just the night.

Having a specific gamerule temporarily change from its default value until the player triggers it (with minor adjustments to make it less apparent. For example still having the player drop their inventory upon death when keepInventory is toggled on but having the items despawn near instantly unless another player was nearby).

Having a tamed/trusting mob despawn (but only if the player had not interacted with them or been near them for a while).

Surviving otherwise fatal damage or dying from otherwise near-fatal damage.

Randomly changing the difficulty or local difficulty (without it being visible in the options or the debug screen).

Randomly changing slime chunks.

Randomly changing the moon phase.

The list goes on.

These are not notable events but that's the point. The intended effect is to confuse the player and make them doubt themselves without ever thinking that a mod is responsible. To make things even more nefarious, you could have this mod be disguised as a typical QoL mod and sneak it into modpacks to really mess with people.

This is the kind of horror that I think suits Minecraft best. Not the loud, overt, in-your-face kind of horror. But the kind that has you slowly begin to doubt yourself and the world around you. No escalation, no climax, no resolution. Just you left alone to consume yourself out of your own paranoia.

[miupow]

beeeestie i am a new follower aaaand im just in love w ur blog 😩❤️

plllllsssss talk about husband!skz, i just cant go to sleep without this on mind 😫😫😫

you can include nsfw if you are comfortable with

˗ˏˋ ★ ― HUSBAND!STRAY KIDS HEADCANONS .ᐟ

╰┈⪼ ot8 x fem!reader ✦ fluff + smut , NSFW minors do not interact !

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 。。。public sex , unprotected sex , creampies , breeding kink , marking , public sex , spanking , bondage , dom/sub dynamics , brat tamer minho , sex toys , shibari , oral (f. rec) , squirting , voice kink , oral (m. rec) mention , orgasm control , pet play sort of

notes from lia。ouuu husbant. my favorite genre of skz.. hehe thank u for the follow!! i hope u enjoy this.. it makes me so happy to hear that u love my blog ^^

SFW :

husband!bangchan who acts like he's your sugar daddy on top of being your husband. you could ask for the entire nation of korea and he'd try his best to give it to you. anything you want and more, it doesn't matter the price; chan just loves spoiling his baby girl. designer bags and jewelry, pretty clothes and expensive dinners... you don't even have to ask.

husband!minho who loves to cook with you, even though he acts like he doesn't. when he's complaining about you being in his way and making snide remarks about your culinary skills, it's out of endearment instead of actual irritation. he just finds it so funny when you throw your own retorts back at him, pouting in that way he adores so much <3 he just loves riling you up

husband!changbin who loves to work out with you! he sees it as a bonding activity, something for the two of you to do together to spend time with eachother. he helps you with all of your stretches, you spot eachother when you need to, exchanging kisses inbetween sets <3 holding his feet while he does sit ups, kissing u every time he comes up hehe

husband!hyunjin who views you as his greatest muse. his favorite subject to draw or paint is your pretty face, your smile his favorite to photograph. he shows you some of it, but most he keeps for himself-- for his eyes only, to admire when he's away on tour and he misses you.

husband!jisung who has an endless amount of inside jokes with you from all of your years together, showing up in gag gifts and one-liners that make you double over in laughter. ji loves to make you laugh, it’s his favorite sound in the entire world <3 he’s always doing something silly in hopes that you’ll give him a pretty giggle, smile and roll your eyes, make his heart skip a beat in his chest ~

husband!felix who treats you like a princess, maybe even a queen— he all but worships the ground you walk on, forever gushing about how beautiful and amazing his wife is <3 the honeymoon phase never ends with him, you’re still as disgustingly in love with each other as you were when you first started dating. he calls you all sorts of sappy pet names, giving you kisses everywhere he can reach, always needing to be touching you even if it’s just holding your hand

husband!seungmin who still acts like a tsundere even when you’ve been married for years lol. he complains about you being lazy but he’ll never let you lift a finger, he groans about you being needy when he’s the one always reaching for you and demanding ur attention >< you love him just the way he is, and he loves you more than he’ll ever care to admit. it’s so obvious that he adores you cos he’s always looking at you when he thinks you aren’t paying attention, eyes lit up like you hung the stars yourself <3

husband!jeongin who wants to spend absolutely every moment he can by your side, and he hates being away from you for any reason. a perfect day for him would be glued to your hip, from when you wake up to when you go to sleep, his favorite person and his partner in crime, his ride or die… he’d take you with him on tour if he could, but he’ll settle for being on facetime 24/7 while he’s away lol

NSFW :

husband!bangchan who can't wait to start a family <3 he figures that now you're married, it's only natural to start trying for a baby... fucks you hard and fills you up every night, fully intent on getting your belly all swollen with his babies… so much cum it’s spilling out of your hole down your hickey-marked thighs, chan pushing it back inside with his thick fingers talking about making sure it takes…

husband!minho who will put you back in your place when you’re being bratty. he will not tolerate his wife having an attitude with him!! he’ll put you over his lap and make you count in an instant, or tie you up and torture you with your favorite vibrator for hours, and he won’t stop until you’re crying and begging for his forgiveness <3 he doesn’t care if you’re out in public or out with friends, he’s whispering threats in your ear, and if you still don’t stop he’ll grab you by the wrist and drag you back home.

husband!changbin who can't help but find your workout wear incredibly sexy, the way your leggings hug your ass and curves, the way ur sports bra pushes up ur tits.. and he knows you find him sexy too, in his tank top and gym shorts, sweaty muscles all out on display.... he's drooling over you while you're drooling over him, and you can both only take so much... its not uncommon for the two of you to end up fucking in the gym showers or in the locker rooms, sometimes even getting touchy in the weight room if it's empty!! changbin slapping and gripping on your ass cos he can't stop himself from touching anymore, and you grind back onto his crotch to feel his erection... his fat dick splitting you open in the showers, his thick buff arms holding you up against the cold shower wall with your legs apart..

husband!hyunjin who loves to tie you up, more than any of the other boys. it’s like an art form to him and he takes it very seriously, buying expensive rope in pretty colors, taking immaculate care of it.. he loves to take pictures of his work, the intricate knots that bind you in place or suspend you from the ceiling— you look so beautiful like that to him, his perfect tied up angel for him to admire and destroy <3

husband!jisung who is an absolute pussy fiend… he could spend all day with his face buried between your legs, talented tongue making you cum over and over again until you squirt hehe <3 he’s not satisfied until his entire face is drenched with ur arousal, dripping slick from his nose and chin, and then he wants to fuck you until you can’t walk ! and you better believe he’s going in raw, because why would he wear a condom when his ring is on your finger? you better be careful, because jisung wants to fuck every day and every night… you wouldn’t mind if you got pregnant, would you? because he definitely wouldn’t

husband!felix who thinks it’s so cute that you find his voice so hot. all he has to do is whisper some dirty words in your ear and you’re blushing and squirming like a virgin… he just can’t help but do it all of the time. deep aussie accent mumbling about how he’s going to ruin your pussy when you get home, or about how hard and needy he is for you to take care of him <3 his hand on your thigh dangerously close to where you need him most… he loves to rile you up until you can’t take any more, till you snap <3

husband!seungmin who loves his wife submissive and needy <3 he won’t let you touch yourself without his permission, just because he loves to listen to you beg, so desperate and dependent on him … he’s trained you to be a perfect pup for him, down to the collar he likes to have you wear. you’d do anything to hear him say “good girl”, wouldn’t you?

husband!jeongin who loves to fuck in public !! getting head in the park, balls deep in your pussy in a bathroom stall, fucking under a blanket in the dorm living room, loud movie covering up your sounds. the riskiness of it gets him so hot, the idea of getting caught slutting you out in a dressing room, closet, break room… maybe it’s because he’s so possessive, that nasty freaky part of him relishing the idea of showing off to others how you belong to him… and he loves watching you stumble around with cum dripping down your legs from under your skirt, disheveled and redfaced desperate to hide what you and your husband were just up to…

[sistertotheknowitall]

Masterpost

“But to the BatFam? That is just Some Guy. A random dude - if you will.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m missing my spleen.”

“Oh cool, yeah, missing organs suck. I’m missing a kidney and part of my liver. Oh! And my gallbladder but that was more of a necessary evil, it was like, poisoning me or something.” Danny was so focused on applying pressure to his wound (and maybe being a bit too light headed) that he didn’t notice how silent his friend had gotten. Like-wise the comms had gone equally quiet as Gotham’s vigilante family realized that they knew very little about this kid.

It was concerning how quickly they all started to see him as a friend considering it was them as vigilantes he interacted with the most. Tim was the only one who saw him frequently when out of the suit because he was a regular at Danny’s day job. (He worked as a barista in the coffee shop Tim favored.) The others saw him occasionally but more often than not it was just in passing. Steph, Duke, and Dick had to stop themselves from approaching him on the street.

It was odd, one day he had just moved to Gotham, seeming to appear out of nowhere, and then the next he was a constant presence in their lives. Usually armed and ready with a concerning or odd quip, it had started with him being another victim of the city’s petty criminals and had snowballed from there.

Now it wasn’t like the bats saw Danny everyday, but it was expected that he would cross paths with at least three of them before the end of the week. They ran into him more often than any other Gothamite, including the criminals and rouges they fought.

At first the constant meetings by “coincidence” was suspicious. If he wasn’t the one being saved from a mugging, kidnapping, or city wide villain assault, then he was near by and trying to help.

(“Trying to help” usually meant drawing attention to himself so the original victim could escape. Once it had meant Danny armed with a baseball bat against four grown men. Bruce and Dick have tried to talk to him about putting himself in harms way but the kid is surprisingly elusive when he wants to be. Yet, even when avoiding Batman and his eldest, Danny could be found on the patrol route of another family member.)

But honestly? The guy seemed just as exhausted as they were of seeing each other. By the twelfth time in a month, Danny had accused them of stalking him.

The background check Bruce and Tim had run came back clean and he never seemed to be involved in the various criminal activities. He was just there, a weirdly unlucky bystander. So as far as Dick and the others could see, Danny was a completely normal dude. He just said strange things and wasn’t intimidated by them, he actually made it a point to be unhelpful sometimes. When trying to learn his name he gave them the run around for two months. (“I know about stranger danger. I don’t care how often you say you’re the ‘good guys.’ I’m not falling for it.”)

On one memorable occasion Danny had disappeared for a week and a half. When they started to assume the worse, he popped back up behind the counter at work. Tim had relaxed significantly when he entered the shop to Danny organizing pastries in the display case. Once he’d placed his order, the young CEO asked Danny if he’d been on vacation. To which Danny had just sighed and told Tim “I wish, but no I was called to court to handle some affairs I couldn’t get out of.” (After a check to see if Danny had gotten charged with something and coming back empty, Tim had concluded that it was an odd way to say he had had jury duty.)

Thinking about it now, outside a stray comment or two, Danny didn’t talk about himself or his life. They knew he didn’t have a good relationship with his parents, “they were much more goal oriented than that joke of a kidnapper, but I think drugs do that to a person.” (It was still unclear if he meant his parents were kidnappers themselves or on drugs.) They knew he had an older sister who would “kill me again if she finds out I was in another bank robbery.” They also knew he was, possibly, depressed after last week’s comment of “is it considered murder if you’re already dead but, like, still alive?” (Damian had saved him from a drug ring but after another “baby ninja” comment the young Robin had threatened to give Danny back to his would-be murderers.)

Dick knew Danny was a weird guy who never wanted to elaborate on the things he said. (Jason was still confused on what he meant by “rotted milk soul.”) That didn’t mean the comments themselves didn’t say a lot about him. And tonight’s comment, accompanied by the prominent and jagged autopsy scars, said more than Danny was probably willing to share.

Part one

[sl-ut]

the bottom

PART ONE | the line

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

description: joel’s new in jackson and tries to take his younger brother’s advice to fit in; keep your head low and work hard. however, while settling into his routine, he does exactly the opposite.

warnings: takes place between season one and two, unspecified age gap (joel is canon age/reader is mentioned to be mid-20s in beginning but the exact amount of time that’s passed is left to the imagination), reader has hair long enough to be braided, reader is a dv survivor, crazy exes, swearing, drinking, slight grumpy x sunshine but reader has layers she’s not just happy all the time, not a whole lot of joel x reader this chapter but it’s coming i swear.

words: 2.4K

date posted: 5/5/25

series masterlist | next part

Joel truly could not have asked for a better deal. He and Ellie were safe within the walls of Jackson, the Fireflies were gone and he’d made sure there was no one left in the hospital to follow them back, he’d found his brother after years apart, and he could finally sleep easy at night. He no longer had to worry about rolling onto his left side throughout the night (though, it was still a habit he’d failed to break when he settled out of survival mode), and he could actually prove to be useful to the community, something he hadn’t exactly shown much of in the past twenty-odd years aside from using brute force. Patrols kept him active, allowing him to maintain at least some of those survival instincts he’d relied on for so long, but it was the internal efforts that he surprisingly enjoyed the most. Plus, Tommy’s advice had seemed easy enough to follow; lay low and work hard. These people are welcoming, but you’ll still have to earn their respect. 

Tommy and a few other men had already been in the process of reinforcing the walls around Jackson when he and Ellie had returned from Salt Lake, and it seemed that they’d been in the process of figuring out some other larger renovations around the city that Tommy had yet to get around to. But now that they had a spare contractor, Joel was able to take over a few projects at a time and the city was being fixed up at twice the pace that they had initially expected and earning Joel that respect quicker than he’d hoped.

Laying low had been pretty easy, too. Joel had earned their respect, sure, but he’d also rather stick to himself whenever he could. He went to work every morning, was friendly enough with the others–but made sure to upkeep his reputation as the town’s resident grump, and spend his evenings either with Ellie, Tommy, or on his own. In the first three weeks since they’d arrived there, he’d made no effort to interact with many of the others outside of work or to trade and only learned the names of no more than two dozen people. 

Maria had finally taken a stand against this, insisting that Tommy and Joel each take the day off of their jobs so that Tommy could show his older brother around the city and properly introduce him to everyone. They’d made their rounds, bringing a list of errands made up by Maria to force them to go into a few places and interact with others, and Joel had been pleasantly surprised that he didn’t absolutely hate all of them–just a handful. 

“See, I told you that you’d get along just fine. Doesn’t matter who they were before they came inside these walls, they got two options; play by our rules or get the fuck out.” Tommy told him as they exited the bakery, each carrying a large brown paper bag in their hands with a selection of baked goods, “These are good people who live here–well, most of ‘em anyway. You gotta be shittin’ me.”

Tommy veered off to the right, headed down a side street at a quick pace. Joel followed behind, brow furrowed as he followed close behind, “Tommy, wha–”

“Hey Elias,” he called out, catching the attention of a tall, wiry man, his shoulder-length hair tied back in a bun at the base of his skull and body holding a slight tremor under the layers of clothing he wore; it all seemed to be nicer than what most wore, leading Joel to assume that he was some sort of higher-up around the place (despite the fact that Jackson had been built on the prospect of communism), “You need something in there, man? Thought you were supposed to be in the clinic today.”

The man turned and glared at Tommy, jaw set as if he had already been expecting the confrontation. He placed his hands on his hips, narrowing his eyes at the pair of brothers as he shifted one hand to point towards one of the buildings just off of the main street, “That’s my wife in there, Tommy. I’m sick and tired of you people telling me where I can and can’t go around here. It’s none of your goddamn business.”

Tommy rolled his own eyes, “Is she, though? Last I recall, she doesn’t wanna be married to you anymore. So if you’re going in there just to bug her after she, Maria, and myself have told you to stay away, I think it is my business.”

“I’m not fuckin’ buggin’ her, Tommy,” the man sneered, closing the distance between them to shove his finger into his face, “you stop me from goin’ to my fuckin’ house, schedulin’ me on these godawful shifts in the fuckin’ clinic, who the fuck do you think you are?”

Tommy turned his face away in disgust, “Yeah, from the stink of you it would seem you’ve been workin’ hard all day, huh? C’mon man, you smell like you’ve been bathing in booze. Let’s not make a scene here, make it easier on all of us.”

“Yeah, and what are you gonna do about it?” He turned his gaze down and spat at Tommy’s feet, “thought we were all a bunch of commies now, huh? All of us being equals and whatnot?”

“We’re all equal until one of us lays hands on their wife, Elias. You know that.”

Joel felt a surge of rage through him at this. Initially, he thought that the man had just been a drunk who’d skipped out of work to come and beg for his wife to come back to him, but now there was no denying the fact that the man was nothing more than a dirtbag wife beater. Truthfully, Joel was mostly shocked due to the fact that Tommy would even allow someone like him to even continue staying there. He couldn’t even count the amount of times that Tommy had gotten in trouble for picking a fight with men who even looked at women the wrong way; he could hardly imagine his brother having any sympathy towards a man who actually beat his wife, even if the punishment was an inadvertent death sentence by exiling him from the city. 

“It was none of your fuckin’ business to begin with. If that bitch hadn’t been running around on me then–”

“You and I both know that’s not true, man. She’s a good woman, and she’s made a whole lotta progress since she finally smartened up and left your ass.”

The man curled his lip in anger, but seemed to be backing down from the challenge, “Fuck this. That whore ain’t even worth it.”

He bumped both Tommy and Joel’s shoulders on his way past, but neither of the brothers made an effort to fight back against him, simply just glad that he had willingly left without forcing them to make a scene. Tommy stayed in his place for a moment, hands falling to his hips as he shook his head, finally turning back to his brother with an exasperated yet slightly sheepish expression.

“Do me a favour and keep this between you and me. Others know they’re split up but most don’t know why. I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Joel scoffed, “You’re tellin’ me you’ve got good people here, and yet you’re harbourin’ a man who beats his wife.”

“Ex-wife,” Tommy corrected, “And it’s not like that. She left him, begged us to let him stay so long as he left her alone.” 

“I don’t know what sounds more fuckin’ stupid, that she wanted him to stay, or that you let him.”

Tommy shook his head, “It’s not just up to me. We’ve got a council, and unless I told ‘em exactly what happened, they’re not willing to give the boot to anyone for just bein’ an asshole, especially when he’s the only fuckin’ doctor we have.”

“Anyone can take the first aid training, Tommy.”

“No, Joel, he’s a surgeon. He was a resident before shit went south, and there’s been a few times where things woulda cost us a lot of good people if it weren’t for him. I can tell you right now that if she came clean about what he–” Tommy paused, taking a short breath to better compose himself, “We’d have a majority vote, and she knows that. If I had it my way, I wouldn’t have let him go that night.”

He watched his brother closely; his teeth gritted together, brow furrowed, and eyes wide and glassy. Tommy had clearly been affected by what had transpired between that man–Elias and his wife, so much that he couldn’t even seem to think about it without losing it. Joel grunted in response, nodding his head slowly. 

He couldn’t decide if he would have done the same thing in that situation, but then he thought back to Tommy’s words, I wouldn’t have let him go that night. Tommy had had his own hands on him, probably ready to kill him. Something about the situation made him sober up through the rage and make the decision to let the man go, to let him live. Joel knew he would not have had the same restraint if it had been him instead. 

Over the next few days, he repeatedly cursed himself for not demanding that his brother tell him the woman’s name. He spent the days that followed in a state of constant discomfort, always glancing over his shoulder in public to watch for Elias around town, taking note of where he went, who he spoke to, and to what anyone had to say about him. He’d begun taking on a leadership role around town, people flocked to him for help, following his orders on patrols, and looked to him for answers. He wasn’t the one to make those decisions on his own–hell, his opinions did nothing but occasionally influence the council, but people seemed to trust that he had the town’s best interest at heart. 

He’d been an official patrol captain for all of a week when Tommy met him in the stable early one morning, helping a young woman saddle up a dark chestnut coloured horse. She was bundled up in a thick wool sweater under a long green raincoat and a navy baseball cap over her neatly braided hair, ready to face whatever chill and rain early spring weather would throw their way. 

“Mornin’ old man,” Tommy grinned, turning to nod at the woman next to him, introducing her to his brother, “she’s gonna be joining you on patrol. You know this route by heart now, and she’s only been out a handful of times.”

Joel turned his gaze back over to her, taking in her features. He’d seen her around town before; she seemed to have taken on a new job every day and he could never anticipate when or where he might spot her. They had exchanged smiles and polite greetings as they passed by, just as everyone else did, though they had yet to interact any further. She was the kind of pretty that made him often struggle to pull his gaze away when he spotted her in a crowd, but she was also just young enough that made him feel guilty for it. She couldn’t be any older than her mid-twenties, but like everyone in Jackson, she looked like she had seen her fair share of loss and hardship. 

“Hi,” the woman beamed, holding her hand out to him eagerly, “I may be a rookie but I’m a pretty good shot so I think that makes up for it.” 

Joel shook her hand gingerly, “Yeah, hopefully you won’t gotta put that to use. This route’s usually pretty clear of infected.”

“Great,” she nodded, “because I was lying. I’m just okay.”

Joel scoffed, glancing over at his brother who seemed unfazed by the woman’s behaviour but amused at Joel’s reaction. She was exactly the type of person that Joel worked to avoid; far too peppy and a tendency to ramble. From the moment that they had mounted their horses until the moment that they returned from patrol almost three hours later, she hardly let more than a few moments of silence pass before she would be asking a dozen more questions. But for some odd reason, Joel didn’t hate it as much as he thought he would. 

It was sort of nice to have someone actually ask him about his day to day life without pressing too much into his past. He liked that she didn’t feel privy to his life before Jackson aside from asking where he was from and where he lived before Jackson. At some points, he was reminded of Ellie when they were travelling across the country in the way that she was able to come up with and ask such random questions off the top of his head, but it made patrol go by much faster than it usually did. And after, when she strutted off in the direction of the meal hall, he felt a flicker of regret for rejecting her invitation to join her. 

He felt an almost instantaneous connection to the younger woman, but he could not help but notice the line in the sand between developing feelings for the world and feeling like a disgusting older man preying on a younger woman; the line between denying himself of what could lead to happiness he hadn’t felt in decades and throwing himself head first into it. She was kind when she spoke to him, but Joel was not the sort of man to mistake kindness for flirting, but there was some sort of familiarity in her eyes when they met with his own–an understanding, leading to that already thin line growing even thinner. 

But what he hadn’t known at the time was that the moment they had set out on patrol that morning, he had started that dangerous walk along that narrow line, completely unsure of what side he was going to end up on.

[kedreeva]

Hi Kedreeva!! You mentioned that male peafowl get aggressive when hand-raised, why is that?

There is no research done on this to be able to definitively give an answer. I've written about this before, as well, but I'm feeling chatty.

However, according to anecdotal evidence by keepers around the world, after being hand raised male peafowl treat humans the same way as they would treat a rival peacock they hold a grudge against, and the aggression is almost always worse during mating season (exception cases where it's bad all year). This would seem to indicate that instead of seeing themselves as humans, peacocks see humans as "like them" ie: peacocks, and that the aggression is hormone based.

With peafowl, a male will attempt to chase off unrelated rival males. Related males form leks, but even males that have not ever met before seem to be able to clock blood relations (this actually was confirmed in scientific study, which I have talked about before so you can find it in the peafowl tag somewhere), and whatever method they use to do this, it cannot apply to humans (because you're definitely not able to be blood related to them). As such, the solution is only EVER going to be: chase off. But, humans are not going to be chased off by a bird they are keeping in a pen, and so begins a feedback loop of stress and aggression: they try to chase you off, they can't, they get frustrated and stressed and more desperate, rinse and repeat. This eventually, even with no reinforcement from you, leads them to be stressed even just seeing you, whether or not you're interacting.

However, most people I've seen aren't just "not doing anything," they are actively reinforcing the idea that they are a threat to the bird. They yell, they make sudden movements, they kick them, they pin them to the ground, they chase them around/carry them around, they spray them with hoses, they attack them with sticks/rakes/pool noodles... I have seen the gamut. And ALL of it reinforces the idea, to the peacock, that they are DANGEROUS and should be CHASED OFF. The bird physically cannot escape in many of these situations (being penned in a flight pen), so the only option they would see is fighting.

This is ALL solved by just... not hand raising them. When they don't consider you to be a rival cock, then 99.9999% of them will be chill dudes even during mating season. They don't actually LIKE to fight, but there are certain situations which inform their instincts (instincts strengthened greatly by hormones) that they need to in order to survive/reproduce.

There is ONE potential work around I have found for hand-raised males, if it is not already too late, and that is extensive training. Stan was, by necessity, hand-raised due his medical issues early on. I trained him to jump to a treat perch when he was young, and once he got aggressive, I was able to reinforce the treat perch such that when I went into his pen, he would immediately go to that perch and he would get treats when I left if he stayed there. This didn't eliminate his stress over my presence, but it did alleviate altercations between us, and allow me to care for him properly. I have helped two other people do this with their young hand-raised males (ones they didn't know better about, and won't repeat), so I know that it CAN work for some others, but it's never going to be a good solution compared to just not fucking doing the hand raising in the first place. The birds will still be experiencing stress they shouldn't have to, and the owner will experience stress knowing that aggression is sitting just beneath the surface at all times.

[olomaya]

Snowflake Day Tree + Activities

I actually started to make this two years ago and forgot about it but then I got the idea to do it again and remembered that I had already written most of the code. It was sort of like finding money in your pocket you'd forgotten about. 😂

Much like in real life, I prefer to spend my holidays in-game with family instead of randoms and I just want to open presents without having to throw a Gift Giving party. So I made a Christmas Snowflake Day tree to do that where you can decorate and add gifts to open on Snowflake Day.

I also added some holiday activities for kids and toddlers if you have the More Activities Activity Table. It's an add-on so you need that mod (and whatever requirements go with it) if you don't already.

Enjoy and Merry Christmas!

More info after the cut and Updates here

Decorate the Tree (this is meant as a joinable group activity so you can invite others to join; up to 4 Sims (child+) can decorate) 

Add Tree Topper (if you have any)

Hang Ornaments (if you have any)

Turn On/Off Lights (if decorated)

Admire Ornaments (sims may get a nice holiday moodlet - Holiday Memories buff)

Add Gift for…

Look at Presents (get information on how many gifts are under the tree and to whom)

Steal Presents (only for Klepto, rebellious, Evil, Mean-spirited; you will get in trouble if someone sees)

Sneak a Peek at Presents - to check out any of your gifts

Invite Everyone to Open Presents - for Snowflake Day, brings everyone on the lot to open gifts under the tree; if someone doesn’t have gifts, they will watch others open presents and if they are in the household they will get a sad buff. Gifts improve relationship score if Sims like it; does nothing if they don’t but if they get too many gifts they don’t like, they can complain about it.

Open Gifts - self explanatory. If you don’t want to gather everyone together, you can open gifts at any time on Snowflake Day. Depending on how many gifts you like/don't like, you will get a special moonlet (Feeling Grateful/Bummer Holiday)

Take Down Decorations

Put Away Tree

Sims can also:

Ask for holiday presents…Toy | Book | Vehicle | Computer | Electronics | Jewelry | Decor | Hobby Object | Sports Object

This is a one-time interaction that Sims can use on any family or household member. If a sim gets what they asked for, they will get a special buff (Just What I Wanted)

Thank for Presents (if they had a particularly good Snowflake Day)

Complain about Presents (if they had a bad one)

With the MAAT add-on, children and toddlers can also:

Make handmade ornaments and hang them on the tree. The ornaments can be stored in the decorations box.

Make handmade Snowflake Day cards for friends and family (kids only). You can give them directly to Sims or put them under the tree as a gift.

Notes and Recommendations:

To be able to utilize all the tree features, make sure there is enough space around the entire tree for Sims to gather and interact with the tree

Your Sims need to have a giftable object in their personal or household inventory to add a present to the tree

When a Sim has asked for a gift, the game checks whether any of the gifts they receive are in the same buy subcategory or object type as what they asked for so if, as example, a kid asks for a toy and you get them a cc toy that is categorized as a plant or deco object in the game, it’s not going to count. 

To gift jewelry, you need the TS3 Store Jewelry Machine or any custom wearable jewelry objects that is the same object type as the Store Jewelry box object

If you don't have my activities table mod and don't want it, then don't download the two MAAT files.

Requires Generations, Showtime (actually I don't think you need Showtime. I think I wanted to use something from it but then didn't but I'm sure one of you will confirm for me 😭) and Seasons

Details and Instructions:

The tree and box can be purchased in the Entertainment/Hobbies Section (300 and 200, respectively), the tree topper in the Misc Deco (90) or they can all be found in the custom Snowflake Day collection file.

To decorate the tree, your Sim needs both the tree object and the decorations box. Custom ornaments and tree toppers go into the decorations box.

The tree comes with a default decoration but you can create and add your own tree decorations. The file has an XML (HolidayTreeDecorations) where you can add the Resource Key, Group ID for the OBJD of the decoration, whatever name you want to call it, whether you want it to light up or not, and the image (if you don’t want a custom image, just use the default one in my first entry).

Credits: Meshes by EA, tree deco is from Coral Island (I hope Stairway Games doesn't come for me!!) and the ornaments are by me and Freepik. Images are EA and Flaticons. Animations by EA and me.

Download here

[oceantornadoo]

the ex-wife chronicles pt.1 (ex husband!john price x f!reader)

masterlist | next

follow and turn on notifications: @tornadoowarning

John Price loves Kate Laswell. She’s like an older sister to him, a brusque sort of bond built by survival and betrayal.

He hates one thing about her: how much she loves her wife.

“You’re takin’ leave?” John huffs into the speak of his phone, his shoulder pressing it into his ear. “Soap’s going to be recovering for months, and Ghost with him. Our main enemy is dead. I was offered two months of leave as compensation for the past year so yes, John, I am taking leave so I can actually see my wife for more than a meal.” John sighs discontentedly, already knowing this means he’ll have to be interacting with others who don’t understand his team. It’s a sneaky mistake he tries to slip into the conversation, testing the waters.

“Not that my men won’t enjoy the two months of leave-” Kate cuts him off with a chuckle. Damn it. “I’m assigning a temporary contact for you. I trust her with my life and I think you will too. She will be giving me updates every week.” John sighs again like a disappointed grandfather. “She’s experienced in managing field trauma as well, so she’ll be like a field therapist but with my clearance. The higher-ups were shaken by Soap getting shot and reassurance that the team will exist in six months. She’ll help Ghost reacclimate, Soap recover, and put you and Gaz back together. Lord knows you need it.” John really can’t deny that. The shell-shocked look that hides behind Gaz’s eyes every time he enters the hospital. Simon sits vigil at Johnny’s bedside, scaring off the most seasoned doctors with one glare. John doesn’t even want to know what he looks like since he’s only shaved once since Johnny got shot three weeks ago. It’s like penance since one of his men almost died. “You sayin’ we’ll have two months of team bonding while you fuck off on your honeymoon?” He can hear a smile in Kate’s tone as she replies, “We’re calling it a vow renewal. I’ll send you a postcard.”

The next ten minutes are spent reading emails about the logistics of this ‘team-bonding’. Compulsory group activities made for specialized military teams. None of that holding-hands bullshit but real strategies to use on and off the field. Breathing techniques, yoga, massages, visualization techniques, while reacclimating them to a battlefield. Each team member will be assigned a different therapist and the woman Laswell is sending will be ensuring that therapy is attended. Laswell still hasn’t sent over the personnel file, something about ‘not wanting to ruin the surprise’ which John only grunted at, watching the end of his cigar burn closer and closer to his hand. The spark of him reminds him of the bullet-hole in Johnny’s head, a starburst of destruction. Maybe a little therapy wouldn’t hurt.

“She gets there tomorrow. She’ll be staying on base and in your section of housing, easier access for emergencies.” What emergencies? The constant nightmares that bleed into John’s days? “We don’t have an extra room.” Kate’s silent for a second. “Soap-” “Is off limits. Jesus, Kate.” She’s silent and he can hear her flipping through files, likely looking at the base’s layout. “Actually, I have a better idea. The isolation housing.” It’s usually used as punishment for unruly recruits, a bit like that Parent Trap movie his nieces used to watch. Ex-nieces.

Four bedrooms with a shared bathroom, updated plumbing but an isolated location. Perfect for forcing soldiers who don’t like each other together until they’re used to the smell of each other’s shit. Unfortunately perfect for two months of team bonding. “There’s no office.” Kate snorts at his protest. “Use Ghost’s. He’s required to show up but it’s not like he’ll be sleeping there. I bet he won’t even step foot into the room.” John sighs in defeat at her solution. A part of him knows his team needs this but it irks him, knowing they’re going to be fattened up like chickens just to be slaughtered the moment they’re able to fight. It doesn’t escape them that this is an investment that requires results. More time off means they’re expected to come back polished like new, shoving the memory of Johnny getting shot into a corner and compartmentalizing. Christ, that’s dark, even for him.

“Fine.” Kate hums. “She’ll be there at 0800 tomorrow. If you want to be a good host, I’d make sure the barracks are ready by tonight.” John murmurs his goodbye and wonders how the hell he’s supposed to get his team to report for duty tomorrow.

-

“Sir.” Heart machines beep in the background on Simon’s side of the call. John slides a hand down his desk, tracing the wood grain as he imagines the phantom pain the man is going through. “How’s Soap?” He can hear a ruffling of fabric, like Simon’s masked head is turning to confirm Johnny exists before replying. “They’re sayin’ it was a graze but the shock waves caused more damage.” Right. The image John sees every night, that of a gaping wound in Johnny’s head, is not actually true. The bullet only grazed, due to the reflexes of his sergeant, but all the blood at the scene made it look much worse. Doctors didn’t even need to do surgery, just a worrying amount of tests and shock at Johnny’s ability to survive. John knows all this information of course, but he also knows Simon needs to keep saying it to remind himself that it’s true.

“He starts therapy in a week.” John replies. Simon grunts. This timeline was suggested by the doctors but John has now confirmed it, something he knows Simon hates. “When he starts, you’re expected back on base.” Simon does not sputter. He’s not built for it. However, John knows the man enough to hear the instinct of doing so in the back of the man’s throat. When Simon doesn’t hang up, John continues. “We’re not gettin’ shipped out for a while. As long as you’re on base durin’ the day, I don’t care where you’re sleepin’. The PT facility is only a 15 minute drive from base.” Translation: I don’t care that you’re sleeping with Johnny. The biggest concession John can make without acknowledging it, something he knows Simon will hate. The speaker crackles, Simon muffling it with a gloved hand. He can imagine the man turning to Johnny, the two conversing in that language only they know. Finally, the speaker becomes clear. “See you in seven days, sir.” John says goodbye and the line cuts.

He dials Gaz next. Although the call connects instantly, he imagines the signal traversing north to Lancashire, where Gaz decided to take off after they were all given personal leave. His family home, not his usual flat in London. A choice John would make as well, if he had a family home to go back to. Not a tragedy like Simon but simply…unattached. His parents died from old age a few years ago and he was the only child of two only children. He’d gone back to his own London flat, but memories of his men playing poker in his living room, Johnny laughing and happy, had been too haunting.

“Sir?” Gaz greets him apprehensively. “Alrigh’, Gaz?” The man pauses, the check-in catching him off-guard. John mentally notes that’s a reaction he doesn’t want in the future. Something to bring up at this godforsaken team bonding experience. “Yessir.” He keeps going when John doesn’t say anything, trying to drag a response out of the sergeant. “Bit of rest and relaxation. Been checkin’ in with Soap when Ghost picks up his phone.” John hums, eyes flicking back to the team bonding itinerary in front of him. “Rest’s over, Gaz. There’s a flight for you at your old airfield. It’ll take off in four hours, 0800 sharp.” Four hours, the most he could give Gaz for some goodbyes, a sorely needed morale boost for the next few months. “Thank you, sir. See you soon.” For the second time today, John hangs up on a call he didn’t want to make.

The rest of the day passes in a haze of paperwork. John scrounges up a pre-wrapped sandwich from mess and eats it with two-fingers of whiskey. A feast fit for a king. Sleep overtakes him in fits and starts, a reminder that he needs a clear mind for tomorrow is the only reason he forces himself to slow his breathing and give in.

-

Gaz arrived late last night. They watch a helicopter land at exactly 0805, wind whipping around their jackets as they squint in the morning sun. Their hats do almost nothing to block it. A few familiar faces hop off, men who tagged along in the flight from the Manchester base back to London. It’s only after they clear the area that you emerge.

Standard base gear with a black hoodie thrown over your t-shirt to wear off the morning chill. You’ve got sunglasses on, blocking the glare that’s sent John squinting. It’s only when you pull them off your face and into the crown of your hair does John realize who he’s looking at.

It’s been ten years since he saw his ex-wife. He did not expect a reunion on a spring Tuesday morning.

John’s well-trained enough to swear in a low tone that doesn’t catch Gaz’s ears. The man has a sunny smile on his face, his hand stuck out for a handshake. “You must be Kyle Garrick.” You say, stopping in front of the men as you shake Gaz’s hand firmly. “Got our files memorized already, Doc?” You laugh, a sharp, tinkling sound that sends an almost-shiver down John’s spine. “No,” you pause to look John up and down, “call it process of elimination.” You don’t bother to shake his hand. Instead, you wait until your eyes catch and nod, like you are cordial colleagues. Like you weren’t his wife once upon a time (it was only a year, his brain whispers). John tips his hat and turns to lead you back to the isolation barracks. In the background, he can hear Gaz recovering well, asking questions about the flight and how you know Kate.

John gives a half-hearted tour, a hard feat to complete when he refuses to meet your eyes. There’s mainly a lot of gesturing and grumbling about how this won’t be a spot to frequent since you’re getting moved to the other barracks. John feels out of character, particularly moody on what was supposed to be a new start of a day. Instead, you, the woman he hasn’t thought about for years (well, maybe a little bit), is at his heels, expected to be his new boss.

The walk to the barracks takes half an hour. Gaz offered to take your bag and now he’s paying for it, his shoulder slumping as he carries the pile of bricks. If John still knew you, he would guess there’s a few of your well-worn books in there. But he doesn’t (know you, that is), so he pretends his sergeant needs to up his bicep routine. How should he kill Kate Laswell? Maybe not answer her calls until she shows up at base so he can get the drop on her. Or show up on her vow renewal vacation and dress her down in front of her wife. All terrible ideas, spun to distract him from the fact that you are hiking a grassy hill a meter behind him, about to enter your new cohabitated home for the next two months. And share a bathroom.

“Christ, Captain, they couldn’tve given it a new paint job?” The gray paint outside the building is flaking, but at least it’s updated inside. John guides them in, pointing out room assignments. You pass by him in a whiff of a new perfume scent he hasn’t smelled and silent outrage, a deadly combination. “Fancy a tea, sir?” John’s about to shake his head until he remembers. He rounds the hallway of bedrooms into the small kitchen, where empty shelves sit. “Looks like we need a restock, Sergeant.” Gaz sighs. John fishes out the new Visa Laswell sent over as part of their ‘bonding budget’. “Don’t steal from mess, go to the store.” It’s at least an hour trip to the parking lot, the shops, and back. Enough time for an argument with his ex-wife, hopefully. Gaz looks a little dazed at the sudden power in his hands. “How much can I buy, sir?” Ghost may love his tea but Gaz is obsessed with candy, always trying a new kind whenever they’re deployed. Somehow, the kid still has perfect teeth. Also, John is still mad at Laswell. “Whatever catches your eye, Sergeant.” He’s gone in a flash, the front door banging on the way out as he yells ‘thank you, sir’ over his shoulder. John sighs.

He finds you in your bedroom, predictably pulling out books from your go-bag. Your shoulders tense when he purposefully stomps up to your doorframe, waiting. You speak at the same time.

“Look, I didn’t know-”

“I don’t know what Laswell told you but-”

You stop at the same time as well, glaring at each other from opposite sides of the room. He gestures at you to go first, a gentleman move that has you rolling your eyes. “I didn’t know it was your team. I owed Laswell a favor and didn’t have anything on my docket, so when she said she needed me to piece some men back together, I volunteered for the challenge.” He takes you in as you talk. The confidence in your squared shoulders is new, no longer faked. Your hairstyle is different as is your makeup, a fact that shouldn’t surprise him. The only thing that stays the same is the bracelet at your wrist, a slim sentimental piece of metal. 

“That what you do now? Piece men back together?” You shrug, turning away from him to unpack. “You know I was never meant to be a regular field doctor. I’ve got both my security clearance and psychiatry background - it’s a unique combination. I get to pick my cases without a lot of paperwork and without worrying whose war I’m fighting. I like what I do.” The message is clear. You are morally above John and you’re proud of it, a fact he sees in your now-relaxed shoulders. You stack books near your bedside, then toss a bag of toiletries on the freshly-made bed. Turning back around to face him, you cross your arms and raise your eyebrows. At least your frustrated look hasn’t changed.

“We gonna have a problem, John? I thought you were a Captain, all professional.” He edges closer into the room, crossing some invisible barrier. “No problem. I’m capable of burying a decade-old history.” You huff, tilting your chin to meet his eyes. It’s you and him for a second, staring. Not reminiscing but remembering. The ghosts of your past fights, long dead and forgotten, are suddenly brought back to life with one blink. Meeting when you were both young and dumb, a whirlwind engagement, an angst-filled marriage. The whole process of it is a two-year blip in his memory from nearly ten years ago. No prenup but no shared assets either, everything you both were and are belonging to the military. Like knocking two dolls together and being disappointed when nothing forms between them.

He only thinks about your marriage when he’s drunk. Drunk and alone. Drunk and with a pretty thing under him, only to blink and remember what you felt like.

Other than that, he doesn’t think about his failed marriage.

John sticks his hand out and you take it. Miraculously, your hand is not as callused as his and he wants to ask why, how you don’t bear the scars of sewing soldiers back together, occasionally pricking your own thumb and watching it bleed. The moment is gone when you let go.

-

a few things

i will not be doing a taglist, they stress me out

this has been in my drafts for weeks, i have one more chapter written but don't expect timely updates

this is mainly going to be fast-burn bc they have a history and i get impatient if there's no smut

no clue how long this is going to be but pls enjoy!

tag: fic: formerly mrs. price

[cutebat]

You know what, fuck it. I'm going to write my own neglectful yandere batfamily cause everyone else is doing it, but I'm going to do it in a different way.

Yandere Batfam x Neglected, but Defiant Reader

Prologue (Diary Entry)

Warning(s): Mentions of yandere themes, neglect, emotional abuse, mentions of physical abuse, forcing to drop out, attempted guilt tripping, reader is just venting out her feelings

(I made this in the reader's POV to make the whole 'diary entry' thing more sense.)

~~~~~

July 22, 2024

It's funny when someone tells their story.

Only to be told back that it's unrealistic.

Almost as if they're afraid to believe it's real...

Oh, God, that sounded dark.

~~~~~

For everyone who doesn't know,

Bruce is a billionaire who's also a shitty dad

Dick is a dick, like actually

Jason uses his trauma to let all his frustrations on me

Tim is a delusional bitch

Cass was okay until she knocked me to the ground

Damian is just a thing who you want to burn to ashes

Alfred... I guess is just Alfred

~~~~~

I was basically raised as what people would call a 'black sheep'. Kind of like... actually, I don't need to explain all that.

Basically, I was adopted by the infamous Bruce Wayne when I was ten for whatever reason. After the first day of living with him and the family and giving me the new role of Batgirl, everyone just pretended as if I didn't exist.

I tried to interact with every one of them and all I got were "sorry, can't talk right now" and "can you shut up".

Like, WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO TO THEM?!

Is it because I'm prettier than all of them and had barely any trauma in my past? Seriously, why are people so jealous about these kinds of things?

Bruce really signed all that paperwork for nothing.

Of course, my little ten year old brain would think that if I tried to impress all of them with what I could do, maybe I could gain their attention.

So by the time I was twelve with my ten year old mindset goal in my head, I did nine different after school activities, won over fifteen awards for my achievements, and went out to patrol at least six nights a week.

And none of that worked! Those fuckers wouldn't even spare me a glance!

~~~~~

After a while, you don't see a point in trying your best.

I dropped out of most of the clubs I regret joining, I just laid back in my classes, and most of all...

I quit being Batgirl.

I didn't want to, but like I said, where's the point in that?

So with that, I just gave up on everything and just... stopped trying.

~~~~~

But then one year all of that almost changed?

For the first time ever, I found myself suddenly really pretty, and after a month I entered eighth grade, I was suddenly asked out by one guy, then two, and all the way up to ten!

It was like really cool!

The popular girls became my best friends, more guys would ask me out, and the teachers started pointing out that I was their favorite student, even the ones who weren't my teachers.

It felt like I was on top of everything. That I was special. The world is revolving around me.

Finally, I was in a place to build a great reputation.

And then life was like FUCK THAT!

~~~~~

After the first semester of eighth grade, Bruce was weirdly in my room and he said wanted to have a 'talk' with me.

So, during this talk, he was basically talking about the last three years of me being neglected by him and his family. To be honest, I forgot everything he told me, but honestly, I don't really care.

He also told the others about all this and now they suddenly feel bad which I don't give a shit about. But, I knew he was doing all this to guilt trip me, which was honestly so stupid.

Now, after he dropped that bomb, he told me that I had to drop out of school to do some "bonding time" with the others along with him and the people who actually cared about me didn't really matter at all!

I JUST GOT SETTLED IN!

All I said was "FUCK YOU" and just stormed out of my room with the only thing that I took was my diary that I had for quite a while that I never used before.

~~~~~

So, yeah. I'm currently in the attic, venting my feelings all out on this stupid glitter diary with a random pen that I found on the ground.

But whatever.

It doesn't matter.

Nothing matters...

My life is just a game.

A sick, hopeless game.

[otakubimbo]

I see your doing a prompt listttttt

can we get a (maybe fluffy, idk) smutty fic

with prompt 70.

a aizawa x reader fic

❤️❤️

lol hi, i know it's been ages but thank you for the ask! I hope you like it. The writers in my head have went on strike T-T

Jealousy, Jealousy

aizawa x f! reader

Aizawa never thought of himself as a jealous man, well that was until it came to you it seems.

Content: plot w/porn, fingering, unprotected sex, misunderstandings, aizawa bad at communication and feelings, drinking, voyeurism, Aizawa being jealous, big simping, avoiding feelings, pinning

for my 200 followers prompt list, i'm still taking them since i went on a lil hiatus, my bad, also if you like it please leave a comment it fuels me

Masterlist

“I don’t want you…. I need you”

The only thing Aizawa could focus on was the sound of your laughter. He was supposed to be focusing on whatever Principal Nezu was saying during this teacher's meeting. You’re giggling at something Sniper had said to you. You were trying to keep your voice down, but you couldn’t help yourself whatever Sniper had said had you in a fit of giggles, and that had Aizawas blood getting warm.

He didn’t think of himself as a jealous man, if anything his demeanor could be described as nonchalant, and yet, here he was, irritated at hearing your laugh with another man and not being the cause of that laughter. His tired eyes stared at the two of you from across the room as present Mic tried to get his attention.

“Earth to Shota!” Mic says almost screaming into his ear, “Stare any harder and your quirk will activate on its own”

“What?” an annoyed scowl crossed Aizawa’s face as he turned towards his friend.

“You’re glaring at her.” Mic points at the quietest frequency he can muster, not quiet at all. A few heads shoot over to the noise, but most ignore as it’s a usual occurrence from Mic. Aizawa huffs with a groan proceeding, turning away from your direction, unable to get the look on your face and the sound of your giggles out of his head.

The rest of the meeting goes through one ear and out the other, the only focus that Aizawa could keep was on your face. You started paying attention to the meeting, done with whatever you and sniper were speaking about. Once the meeting concluded, most of the teachers decided to go out for drinks and dinner. Aizawa wasn’t even considering going until he heard you speak up.

“Oh my gosh, yes. I need a drink after this long week” The excitement in your voice making his head turn and your eyes met his almost immediately as if you were looking for him, “you’re coming right?”

Aizawa tries his hardest not to give that you were making butterflies bloom in his stomach and just gives a curt nod. The feeling in his chest was blooming as the group walked towards the nearest restaurant, that was until he saw the way you looped your arm around Snipers and you were giggling again at whatever he was saying to you. Another scowl was making an appearance of Aizawas face as he watched the scene before him, Mic caught what was going on, throwing a supportive arm over Aizawas shoulder and he didn’t shrug it off surprisingly.

“Just talk to her, man” Mic does his best to whisper towards his friend. Aizawa just stays silent as they continue to walk forward, not even sparing his friend a sideways glance.

You hadn’t been at UA long but from the first interaction with Aizawa, he knew there was something different about you. The way you softly smiled at him as you introduced yourself had his words caught in his throat. It was the first time in a long time that the man actually felt self conscious about his appearance, thinking how disheveled he must look to you. But you didn’t seem to cast any judgment on him, it wasn’t like he was known for his style anyways. Your graze was soft yet curious as if you were picking him apart to see inside of him, it wasn’t judgmental it was calculated curiosity. Ever since then sometimes he would catch you just glancing at him as if you knew something he didn’t, and when he caught your eye, you would just smile that smile of yours and go back to whatever you were doing. You mesmerized him.

It didn’t help that you were absolutely gorgeous, his eyes always drawn to you, but you were also kind, kind in a way that seemed so effortless for you. It wasn’t even that you went out of your way to be kind, you just were. On the days that he was at his most exhausted, you always appeared out of no where with coffee for him. When the stress of his students was getting to him, you always had a funny story to tell him that got his mind from it even if it was for a moment. It was as if you always knew what he needed.

And here you were, sitting across from him giggling at something Sniper says as you take shots of sake together. Now Aizawa barely drank, but tonight as tight as his jaw was clenching, he was going to need to do anything to keep his cool. The alcohol taking his mind other places then you across the table. He was doing a decent job at keep the fire without him down, that was until your head landed on Sniper’s shoulder face flushed from the alcohol and the way you looked up at the other man set gasoline on that fire. How could you just do that so casually in front of him? Did you not feel the same way? Did you not feel his gaze always driving to you? Abruptly and uncharacteristically Aizawa quickly stood up and just walked outside, everyone looking at each other in the confusion at his quick departure.

Your brows furrowed in concern as you watched him leave, you could tell he was pissed but about what you had no clue but you were worried. Quickly, you excused yourself from the table following him. He was waking faster than you had ever seen him go, making you jog after him trying to call his name, but he was either ignoring you or couldn’t hear you. Eventually you caught up with him outside in the side alley of the restaurant, you could tell as you approached that he was fuming. But he looked like a frantic kitten, almost lost.

“Aizawa?” Your voice soft and careful as you approached him. “Are you okay?” Your question barely audible as you reach out to him. He turns to glare at you, gaze so sharp it makes you take a step back, but he says nothing. The alcohol making his eyes redder, deeper.

“What happened back there?”

The question hung in the air for a moment before Aizawa scoffed. There was no way you didn’t know what the problem was, but you didn’t know, your concerned look turned into one of confusion. Aizawa rakes his hands aggressively through his before his tired eyes fall back onto yours. He knew his behavior seemed strange, but he had no clue what to do at this point. He was a grown man for fucks state, the stoic, nonchalant pro hero Erasure Head, yet here he was acting like a jealous child over a woman who wasn’t even his. The drinks flowing through his system weren’t making his thoughts any more logical. As he looks at you, he lets out an exasperated sigh, he couldn’t imagine how stupid he probably looked.

“You can just tell me what’s bothering you, you know I won’t judge. You know that.”  You say while taking a cautious step forward, he looked like a frightening kitten.

Aizawa let out another sigh. There you and your kind heart go again, making him docile, making him fall for you. He couldn’t take it anymore, the liquid courage giving him the push to finally do what’s been on his mind since the first moment he met you. Without speaking, he starts walking towards you getting closer and closer forcing you back until your back presses against the alley wall.

“Aizawa” you breath out his name as his arms cage you as you look at him wide eyed. He was close, so close.

“I don’t think I can take it anymore” his voice barely above a whisper, strained biting his lip as if to hold himself back. His eyes were closed as he was gripping the wall beside your head. You can smell the sake on his breath, as he leans closer into you hovering right over your mouth.

“Can’t take what?” Your voice coming out just as quietly.

 Aizawa opens his eyes looking straight into yours, they were as beautiful as ever, a bit glossy from the previous drinks and as always curious as always seemingly looking through him. He doesn’t blink as he looks into your eyes searching for something, waiting for you, waiting on you to push him away, waiting for you to tell him no. But then nothing came, you were just looking back at him with that face of yours and now he couldn’t stop himself. f Slowly, still giving you the chance to push him away, he leans his face closer to yours capturing your lips with his own. Your body not even giving your mind time to process what’s happening as you automatically lean into him kissing him back. The kiss is slow, steady, strong but filled with so much passion, just like Aizawa.

You’re the first one to take it up a notch, grabbing onto his shirt to pull him closer, opening your mouth for him to explore. At this, he stopped holding himself back letting his built-up frustration get the best of him as he kisses you more sloppily grabbing the back of your head with one hand and your ass with the other.  You gasp at the action surprised at the sudden change from him, giving Aizawa the opportunity to bite on your lower lip which illicit a sharp hiss from you. Your hands move to wrap around his neck as he resumes kissing you fiercely. It was aggressive, it was sloppy, it was everything that he dreamed about, his lips molding into yours, the feeling of your tongue wrestling with his.

As everything started to get more passionate the hand, he was using to hold your hair goes down to your ass to lift you up for him, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist as he presses you into the wall. His lips trailing from your mouth to your chin and then down to your neck biting and sucking as you try to keep down your moans as whines from his ministrations on your neck as he hips grind into yours. There’s a hitch in your breath as he bites down hard, grinding even harder into you making you clench around nothing.

“Fuck Shota” you moan as you can feel one of his hands make its way towards your soaked panties. Oh, the sound of his given name on your lips. He wanted to hear it more.

“You’re already so wet for me” he says against your lips, a cocky smirk gracing his face as he makes his way to the other side of your neck. As his digits move your panties to the side, sliding up and down your slit just grazing your yearning clit while you thank whatever divine being told you to wear a skirt today. You moan his name again as you feel his thumb rub long circles around your clit, pressing your hips more into his hand as you grab his hair causing him to bite down on your neck with a soft groan.

“Shota please” you beg, needing more from him. His mouth finds yours again as he inserts two fingers inside you, giving you what you asked for. He curled his fingers inside you as his thumb rubbed tighter circles on your clit. At this point you were dripping down his hand, your feet digging into his back as he swallowed your moans.  He could feel you getting tighter around his fingers, his mouth left yours and went to your ear.

“Yes, just like that. You want to cum for me? Are you gonna cum for me?”  He speaks straight into your ear, his ministrations getting more aggressive as you nod senselessly feeling your peak quickly nearing.

“Yes Shota I’m gonna cum for you, I’m gonna cum for you” you pant as you lose yourself in the pleasure he’s giving you.

A grown escapes his mouth at the sound of your voice, “fuck I love the way you say my name.” He nibbles at your ear, “go ahead and cum for me”

And you do, you cum hard, gushing all over his hand eyes closed, head thrown back as your chest quickly rises and falls. To Aizawa, he doesn’t think he’s seen anything sexier.  As you’re coming down for your peak, Aizawas lips find yours again, kissing you slow and longingly his fingers sliding gently out of you to grip back on your ass, pressing himself into you. He can feel all your residual wetness seeping into his pants. Fuck he wanted you so badly.

You pull back from him, your eyes slowly opening as you look at him with heavy breaths. The look he was giving you was dangerous; he was no longer a kitten but a tiger that was starved. It overwhelmed you as you turn your head and gaze away from him which reminded you that he just finger fucked you in an alley way. Your hands go to push on his chest as his mouth latches on your neck again.

“Wait Aizawa, wait” you say pushing with the little strength you have after your orgasm, your breath coming out heavy and strained. He doesn’t pull away, but his lips still against your neck. “We can’t do this here, we’re gonna get caught, someone’s gonna see or hear us”

He chuckles smugly into your neck at your words, still not moving away placing gentle kisses up and down it as your breath hitched, “you weren’t saying that when I was knuckles deep into you, and..” he starts as he nips at your neck “what happened to calling me Shota? My name sounds so much prettier coming out of your mouth.”  Aizawa didn’t know if he was drunk off the sake he drank previously or if it was just you.

You take in his words as he grinds, his hard dick into your already sensitive core while his hands roam over your body.  A small whimper coming out of your mouth as he licks a long stripe against your neck.

“Plus I don’t care, I want you right here and right now.” He huffs as he presses his body into yours, taking one of his hands to turn your face back to him. The way you looked right now, flushed, breathing heavily, pupils blown out from him, for him. It ignited something even more depraved in him as he shakes his head aggressively, “No no no, I don’t want… I need you.”

The look in his eyes tells you he means every word, he needs you right there, right now, no matter who could walk past and something about that makes you even wetter. Another chuckle leaves his lips as he can feel you wetting him even more. Oh, you were a nasty little thing, you were going to drive him crazy.

“And you need me to, you need me to fuck you here in this back alley.” A cocky grin plastered on his face as he frees himself from his pants, taking his tip to rub on your clit. You breathe out shakily nodding your head as you try to push him in. He places himself right at your entrance, not yet pushing himself in as he feels you trying to sink down on him.

“Tell me you need me to” he says as he smears more of your juices on his dick. A moan escapes your mouth as your overstimulated core is stroked.

“Shota please”

“No, I want to hear you say it. Say you need me” he pulls back from you slightly, tip again right at your entrance, he can feel your cunt trying to suck him in. His mouth going back to your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “Say it”

“I need you; Shota I need you right here and right now in this back alley” you whine and beg, causing him to smirk feeling the way his lips turn up on your ear.

“Good girl” Aizawa whispers before pushing himself in, slowly, agonizingly slowly. The stretch of him burned, making your nails dig into his back.

“Fuck” you both say in unison as he bottoms out, you’re already clenching around him. Tight, you were oh so tight. Your pussy clenching so tightly around him that for a moment he didn’t even think he could breathe. Oh and it felt so good, too good, you really were going to make him crazy.

“Relax, I got you” his voice strained holding himself back from cumming just from entering you. Your body relaxes at his command, grip less tight on him. Such a good girl you were, such a good girl for him. With the slight relief he starts moving into you, feeling the way your pussy tries to pull him back in every time he drags himself back. It was an intoxicating feeling, his eyes shut as he slowly moves in and out of you, quietly moan your name. Each drag on his hip making you feel more and more crazed as your pleasure climbs towards it peak again.  Your high feeling just out of reach with how slowly he was moving in and out of you. You needed to feel more of him, needed him harder, needed him faster.

“Please fuck me Shota,” you whine as you try to take him deeper into you, almost hitting the spot that would drive you wild “fuck me harder, fuck me faster”

He chuckled into your arm, stilling his movements gaining another whine out of you in frustration, “For someone who claimed they were so worried about getting caught, your actions surely prove different.”

You attempt to roll your hips into him, but he just presses his hips harder into you forcing your back against the wall, unable to move. “Please” you breath out, clenching and unclenching around his length.  “I told you I didn’t care; I told you I needed you. Please. I need you to fuck me Shota, please fuck me Shota”

Oh, how he loved hearing you beg. It made him even harder inside of you, groaning into your neck as he calms himself down from cuming just from your words alone. Your nails did into his back, and you breathe out another please, another beg. At that, something snaps in him he grabs the bottom of your thighs, pulling them up so that your legs are now on his shoulder pulling you off of the wall. You gasp at the sudden movement, the feat of strength should have been expected from him but it didn’t stop it from being any less hot involuntarily clenching around him, wetting him even more. His strong hands find a tight grip onto your waist lifting you up and slamming you back down on his did, his hips moving in tandem with his upper body movements to fuck into you deeper, harder, faster.

It was exactly what you wanted but all to much at the same time. He was moving you as you weighed nothing to him, while all you could do is moan out his name as he fucks you like a feral beast, the grip you had on his shoulders almost painful to him making him go even harder. The sound of your pussy was almost as loud as your moans.

“You have to be quiet, baby or we really are gonna get caught.” He says not stopping his assault that was causing your volume. Your pussy had a mind of its own, clenching  harder around him at the thought of someone seeing the way he was treating your body. Aizawa didn’t think he could be any more turned on but you keep doing it to him. He slams your back into the wall, using his hand as a cushion behind your head as he pulls it towards him in a searing kiss. As he pulls away he smirks at you, his hips not stopping their movements, “ Oh you want to get caught don’t you? You want everyone to see how much nasty you are, how you’re letting me fuck you like a slut in this dirty alley way?”

You shake your head, but your body betrays you as you clench again on his dick, getting closer and closer to your peak. Your juices were spilling out around his dick, soaking his pants. “But baby I can feel it, you’re drenched. I never thought you would be so nasty, someone who looked so innocent, someone so beautiful would have such a filthy pussy. Now be a good girl for me and have this filthy pussy cum on my dick.”

As filthy as your pussy was for him, his mouth was even dirtier for you. He started pounding you into in exactly the right spot, eliciting a loud moan from you, making your eyes roll back his mouth finding your neck and biting down to silence you. 

“You’re taking my dick so well. Fuck, I’m so deep in you. You feel me right? You feel how deep I am in you?” He asks and you just nod your head no words being able to form in your mouth. One of his hands went down to rub your clit, feeling you clench harder at his movements wetting the two of you more and more that it was dripping on the ground. Before you could tip over the edge, he pulls his hand back slowing  his movements down again. You try not to whine so loudly but you couldn’t help it, the burn and strain in your legs returning as you no longer feel the euphoria that he was giving you. A pout forms on your face as you watch Aizawa raising his hand covered in you as he slowly grinds his hips into you, straining your legs further.

“Let’s see how you taste.” He says before licking one of his fingers, closing his eyes as if he was savoring the flavor of you. “Delicious” was the last thing he says before he shoves his slick covered fingers into your mouth down your throat making you gag. You start sucking on his fingers the best that you could while he resumes the harsh pace that he was at.  You looked so sexy to him sucking and choking on his fingers, he could only imagine how you would look with his dick in your mouth but now is not the time for that, not here.

But it did drive him crazier, fucking his fingers into your mouth as his other hand presses onto your stomach as his thumb rubs fiercely on your click. It was all too much for you, as if you could feel him everywhere all at once, so overpowering that you didn’t even have time to register that you were cumming and hard, the grip of your cunt on his dick was so tight that he could barely move. His movements didn’t stop and now you were squirting on him, soaking his shirt and pants. The scene before Aizawa was so vulgar, so sexy, you just came on his dick in a dingy alley and squirted all over him. He couldn’t stop himself anymore from cuming in you, his seed hitting your cervix which made you clench around him again, even harder. He kept cumming and cumming , he didn’t even know he had that much in him to give. Your greedy pussy sucking everything out of him, he had even forgotten to breathe. He slowly puts your legs down back around his waist, panting as small spurts of cum still shoot into you. Your foreheads are pressed together as you both catch your breath.

You’re the first one to say something, “well that was….”

“Yeah” he finishes your sentence opening his eyes to look at you, “are you okay?”

And then there you go with that smile again, “never been better” you breathe out with a small giggle. “But I do think we should probably get ourselves together.”

He nods as he slowly pulls out of you, both of yall hissing from the movement, extremely overstimulated leaving a connected trail of both of your juices as he leaves you. You start straightening out your shirt and your skirt, thinking back to how you got yourself in this situation in the first place. Not knowing how the two of you even ended in this predicament, you couldn’t blame it on alcohol. Neither of you even drank that much, but it was still making you overthink. What did any of this mean?

You look over at Aizawa while he fixes his pants, clearing your throat nervously as you fiddled with your skirt, “so would you like to talk about what just happened?”  Your question making him halt his moments. He sighs as he fixes himself, running his fingers through his hair seeming just as nervous as you were as if he wasn’t just fucking the soul out of you. Everything is quiet for a moment and you think maybe you really fucked up, that none of it meant anything to him, and you were just a quick relief to some stress he was under.

“I didn’t like seeing you with Sniper” he confesses after the long silence avoiding looking at you.

You blink several times, trying to process what he just said to you. There was no reason to be upset at seeing you with Sniper. “What?” you say louder than expected making his gaze turn to yours, his jaw clenched. Your face was crunched in a way that didn’t really give away what you were thinking.

“I was….” He exhales “jealous. Seeing you laugh and talk with Sniper. The two of you were so close during the whole meeting and then seeing you lean your head on his shoulder just set me off. I was jealous.”

“Are you serious right now?”  Your question matching the confused disbelieve that your face now showed. It didn’t make sense to you why he would be jealous of Sniper, it had you looking at him in a way that made him feel even more exposed than him voicing his feelings had him.

“Well seeing the woman, I like flirting back and forth with another doesn’t really bring me joy. The way you laughed and whispered to him as if it was just the two of you in the room ticked me off. And then you went and laid your head on his shoulder. That was it, that’s what made me storm off.” he huffed in annoyance so unlike him, getting more irritated as he sees a wide grin spread across your face before your burst out into laughter. You were laughing so hard; you had to grip your stomach and tears streaming down your face. Eventually you calm, wiping the tears from your eyes to see an extremely irritated Aizawa.  How could you just laugh in his face after he confessed his feelings for you? He never thought that you were that kind of person.

“This is funny to you?”

You let out a few more giggles, before you sigh happily looking up at him like you always do, “you’re really cute you know that”

He just scowls at you as you walk towards him, but he doesn’t back away allowing you to grab his face in both of your hands. He tries to turn his head, avoiding your gaze but you turn his face back to you, placing a gentle kiss of his lips. It takes everything in him not to kiss you back. He glares down at you when you pull away, more embarrassment in his look than anger.

“You know he’s my cousin, right?” You say with that stupidly beautiful smile on your face. It took a few moments for Aizawa to register what you said, his scowl deepening as his face reddened at the realization.

“Your cousin” he says with an air of relief and embarrassment

“Yes, my cousin” you giggle kissing him again.

“The two of you look nothing alike” he huffs out, thinking of how he could have possibly known that.

“True but that doesn’t make him any less of my cousin.” You release his face taking a step back to quickly scroll through your phone, showing Aizawa what looks like a large family picture and there was you and yup there was Sniper. “I could of sworn I told you before, he was the one who conceived me to move here and apply for UA.”  You say as you tap your finger on your chin, thinking back to when you first became his assistant.

Aizawa takes a deep breath, he feels like an idiot. He was jealous of your cousin. JEALOUS of your cousin. Fucked you for the first time in a back-alley (yes it was really hot, and he thoroughly enjoyed it but still that wasn’t how he envisioned his first time fucking you). His face reddens even more just thinking about it, his stoic expression trying to settle back into his face.

“And I like you too by the way” you say as you bat those pretty little eyes at him

“So let me take you out on proper date then” he tells you more than asks you, regaining his previous confidence.

“I’d love that”

Later that night after you’re home and cleaned up from your activities, while you lie in bed looking at the texts between you and Aizawa about the future date you’re going to have with him you get a text from none other than your cousin.

BadShot🔫: I know you fucked Erasure Head in that back alley

You stare at the message in horror, thoroughly embarrassed wondering how the hell he knew as you see the typing bubbles appear

BadShot🔫: the two of you weren’t very quiet.

You quickly respond back “blocked for harassment”

BadShot🔫: that’s fine I’m telling your mom

You never called someone so fast in your life.  He was definitely no longer your favorite cousin.

[nervoussagittarius]

y/n and matt being the hottest couple to ever walk the earth

matt sturniolo x reader

summary: part two of hot moments of matt and his girlfriend caught on camera

warnings: fluffy, little suggestive, probably some swearing, request

★ you sat on the triplets couch watching them from behind the camera as they filmed a wednesday video. you occasionally caught matt’s eyes where he would send you a wink that he would later claim wasn’t what it looked like.

you were usually out of sight out of mind when they were filming, but today matt looked so good and you needed a front row seat to that show. when they neared the end of filming you decided to rile matt up a little and send him a sexual picture of yourself.

you saw matt pick up his phone and instantly widen his eyes before he turned his head to the side with a look of shock. he tried to hide his expression but you easily caught on. he set his phone back down trying to be nonchalant.

all he had to do was film an outro he thought. if he could make it through without having to stand up he’d be golden. you sneakily made your way from the couch to matt’s room, his eyes following your movements. “matt stand up what are you doing?” chris complained.

matt thought for sure that his cover was blown. his mind went to you and he pulled your hand as you went past him. “come say hi to everyone.” matt said through gritted teeth. you jokingly stuck your tongue out at him while he used you to hide the problem your picture caused.

he placed you in front of him as you waved at the camera. you could feel his growing boner on you so you reached behind your back to rest a hand in his hip, caressing gently. he quickly grasped your hand in his before you could move any further.

nick said the last words as matt instantly threw you over his shoulder. it would be lying to say he wasn’t running you to his room. “those weirds say goodnight.” nick said.

“you sneaky bastard.” you let out as matt threw you in his bed. “me? i’m not the one sending nudes in the middle of filming.” matt retorted with a laugh.

★ going out of the house with matt was always an adventure. there were always people following you guys or asking for pictures. you didn’t mind. you guys loved interacting with matt’s fans. what you did mind though was the random girls coming up to your boyfriend and asking for his number.

you weren’t really a jealous person. you knew that matt was the most loyal person ever and after years of dating it was hard to deny the fact that he only had eyes for you.

that leads you to today. you and matt are waking through downtown los angeles, hand in hand like normal, when this girl approached matt. she had a friend with her, unbeknownst to you, filming the entire interaction.

“hey i saw you from across the street and thought you were really attractive. can i get your number?” matt payed barely any attention to her, knowing how this conversation was going to go.

matt let go of your hand before using your belt loop to tug you closer to him and putting his hand in your back pocket. “actually this is my girlfriend.” he stated as he started to walk you two away.

“oh wow she’s really pretty.” the girl said. matt made no effort to turn around before stating, “yeah. she is.”

you looked up at him with a shocked smile. “how could i not be dating you? you’re insanely perfect.” matt said placing a kiss to your head.

★ nick was being very active on his snapchat tonight while you and matt took the liberty to make dinner for everyone.

you two stood in the kitchen waiting for water to boil for pasta. you and matt loved cooking together. it was something fun that challenged you guys to start eating healthier.

matt was beginning to fidget with impatience. “what’s wrong?” you asked. matt looked at you with desperation in his eyes. “i really want this water to boil so we can eat and then go lay down together.” he said honestly.

you moved to wrap your hands around matt’s neck and place soft kisses to his face. attacking him with kisses was one of your favorite hobbies. matt pulled away from you with a smile and blown out pupils. “god! i just want to go makeout with my girlfriend! why won’t this stupid water hurry up.”

you giggled at his outburst before pulling him closer to you and leaning up to meet his lips. matt met you in the middle quickening your pace.

his hands wrapped around your waist as your hands found the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled ever so slightly. matt released your mouth with a groan, and you began to suck small areas around his neck.

it wasn’t until later that night that you found out nick accidentally caught your exchange in the background of his stories. it was a little to late to do anything so you two accepted your new title as the hottest internet couple.

comments:

i just KNOW they’re freaky

matt is a treasure. no man is that loyal

they’re such a power duo

mother and father

taglist: @norr1ssturni0lo @recklessmatt @luvr4miya @hpyjw @unbruisable @watercolorskyy @elliewrites1 @rheaasturn @slxt4matt @mmay4ever @aurizp

[vitalverstappen]

Cassandra - C. Leclerc

summary: when everyone believes you, what's that like?

pairing: Charles Leclerc x platonic teammate! reader

warnings: Mattia Binotto, swearing, some sexist comments

word count: 3k

a/n: in honor of max winning the WDC, i figured i'd post something. in honor of charles finally losing his shit on the team radio, i figured i'd post this. also it takes place during the 2022 season

masterlist

the tortured drivers department masterlist

2022 was supposed to be your year. You broke onto the F1 scene in 2020 with Haas after working your way up through F3 and F2, championing both levels of racing with ease. You proved yourself time and time again by consistently placing within the points in a less than superior car. 

That’s how you got the attention of Ferrari. They offered you a one year deal, and you couldn’t turn it down. You were okay with being the second driver, because you were racing for the most historic team in F1. 

Things started out great. The car was a major upgrade from the tractor you were driving with Haas, and the team actively listened to your input and took having a woman in the car seriously.

You and Charles also clicked instantly, which led to some amazing content for the social teams. 

“Anything you need, or feel needs changed, let us know. We’re a family here” Mattia said as he gave you the tour of the Ferrari factory.

You couldn’t have drawn up the first two races any better. Both you and Charles were on the podium and it looked like you two were going to give Max and Red Bull a run for their money in the championship races. 

The downward spiral started in Australia. From the moment you hit the track for the first time, something felt off. The car was sluggish, it took all of your strength to accelerate and brake properly. 

“There’s something wrong with the car.” you told the team, your frustration mounting. “It takes forever to accelerate and then when I do, I can’t break”

“Have you tried leg day?” Mattia asked, a smirk forming on his face, causing you to storm away and find your mechanics. 

The Australian Grand Prix ended up being a disaster. You struggled through the laps, barely able to keep up with the field. The car was just too much of a handful. Thirteen laps in, you hand no choice but to retire from the race. The speed was gone, and your confidence was shot. 

“I cannot believe he looked me in the eyes and said ‘try leg day’” You fumed as you barged into Charles’ driver room. The frustration was evident in every word, your anger still fresh from the weekend’s events. 

Charles looked up from his phone, raising an eyebrow at your entrance. “Well hello to you too” he said with a small chuckle. “What’s going on?” 

You let out a deep sigh and recounted the car troubles and the interaction with Mattia. “He actually said ‘try leg day’ to me, like it’s some kind of joke. What happened to ‘if you need anything, let me know’?”

Charles listened intently, a sympathetic look crossing his face. “Hopefully it was just an assembly issue” he said, trying to ease your frustration. ”Imola should go smoothly for the two of us. We both know you’re a hell of a driver.” 

Imola was next, and that was somehow even worse than Australia. Instead of acceleration and braking problems, the new issue was the engine. It had to be replaced between practice 3 and qualifying, only for the new one to fail during the race in Imola. 

“I have the utmost trust in my team.” You said during your press interviews “We’ve tried upgrades, but they’ve fallen flat. Hopefully Miami provides some better results” 

For Miami, the team had reverted your car back to the original set up, the one it had when the season started. The difference was night and day. The car felt responsive, alive in ways it hadn’t in the past few races. As you flew through all three practice sessions and qualifynig, you could feel the weight lift from your shoulders. You had been pushing the limits all weekend, and it had paid off - P2, only behind Charles. Things were looking up. 

The problem now was the strategy. As the number two driver, you knew your strategies were mostly going to be defend defend defend but you didn’t realize how badly Ferrari’s lack of adaptability would come into play 

The race was shaping up to be intense. Charles had led most of it, with Max behind him. You were right behind Max, keeping a steady pace, but always aware of the massive pressure from the drivers behind. Then, when Charles pitted, you thought, for sure, you’d get the green light to battle Max for the lead. After all, you were right there, in prime position.

Instead, the radio crackled to life. 

“Y/n keep defending. Leclerc will be back up there in no time.” Your engineer said

You blinked, incredulous. “I’m sorry what?” You couldn’t believe what you just heard. 

“Defend Max. Charles will be back up there to take over. Hold your position” he repeated as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

“Are you fucking serious?” you barked back, your grip tightening on your steering wheel. “I can overtake him for the lead and you want me to defend?!” 

Before your engineer could respond, Mattia’s voice boomed over your radio “Defend y/n. Team orders.” 

You could feel your irritation building, but there was no choice. Ferrari had spoken. You stayed behind Max, holding position, and waiting for Charles to catch up. Sure enough, Charles had soon found his way back to you, but by that point, Max was far enough ahead that any shot at victory was all but lost. 

Later, in the media pen, you stood with the press surrounding you, microphones, shoved in your face. They asked you the usual questions, but you were still stewing over what had happened. 

“Yeah, I mean the car felt great” You started, trying to keep your tone even. “We reverted back to the original, pre-upgrades and the car showed it’s worth”

The reporter pressed further. “Now even though the car was great, why do you think you couldn’t pull off the win? You were less than a second behind Max, and chose to defend your position instead of attacking.”

A disappointed sigh escaped your lips. You were tired of repeating the same frustrations. “If it was up to me, I would have attacked. I know we would’ve gotten a different result on the podium today. If we had a different strategy, then we would have gotten many more points.” 

“How do you think this result is going to impact the championships?” another reporter asked 

You paused, considering the question. “It could make or break it. There’s a large jump of points between one, two and three, and one thrown away strategy can make or break a shot at either championship. I’m just hoping they don’t mess up Charles’ strategies like they have mine.” 

As you finished your media duties, you made your way back to the garage, expecting to be alone with your thoughts. But to your surprise, Charles was waiting for you.  

“What are you doing here?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as you approached

“I, uh, wanted to congratulate you on P3. You had a good race out there” He said sheepishly, his hands shoved in his pockets.

You shrugged, the weight of the day still on you. “I could have won if my strategy wasn’t total shit.” you muttered, your tone flat.

Charles let out a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I get it. P1 and P2 would have been great, but strategy isn’t Ferrari’s strong suit” he admitted, his eyes meeting yours with a shared understanding.

“So I’ve learned.” you replied dryly. “I just hope it isn’t bad enough to fuck up winning either championship” 

He nodded, a look of quiet concern in his eyes. “So do I. I’m terrified my shot at a driver’s championship is gonna slip away” 

Before you knew it, your interview was trending all over social media. Clips of you talking about the strategy missteps were circulating, and the Tifosi and general F1 fans alike were all over it. They didn’t believe you. They thought you were complaining, too bitter about the loss, and some even accused you of undermining the team. The backlash was stiff.

User1: there’s no way they’re going to mess up the golden boy’s strategy. Mattia cares too much about winning to do that

User2: y/n doesn’t know racing. She’s obviously going to get the shit strategy - she’s not charles 

User3: Ferrari needs to get rid of her. She doesn’t belong here #burnthebitch

Before media day in Spain, you got called into Mattia’s office. 

“Thank you for joining me on such quick notice y/n” Mattia said with a smile as you walked in 

You gave him a polite smile as you sat across from his desk “Of course. Why did you call me in?” 

The smile on his face instantly hardened “We need to talk about how you approach the media. You embarrassed myself, along with the rest of the Ferrari staff during Miami.” 

You found yourself fixing your posture and dropping the smile you had previously, prepared to go toe to toe with your principal. “I would say I told the truth on how the race was handled. We could have left Miami with eleven more points, had we gone P1 and P2”

Mattia sighed “That may be true, but we know you couldn’t have battled Max safely. Regardless, that was two weeks ago. We need to focus on Spain now.” 

“Whatever” You mutter “ If we provide sufficient results, I’ll give you praise. If we don’t, I’ll keep mentioning what needs to be done better. Simple as that” 

Spain turned out better for you than it did for Charles. You had finished P4, while Charles was forced to retire. Another blow for Ferrari. 

Both of you managed to score points in Monaco. The car felt good and it seemed like the team was back to how they were at the start of the season. That is until Baku. 

The start of the race seemed like it was going well. The practices and qualifying went well. Charles was on pole and you were not far behind him at P4. But that’s when the good luck ended. Just like the Australian Grand Prix, your brakes were faulty, and this time your clutch wasn’t working. 

“Check the hydraulics - brakes aren’t working again and clutch is out.” You voiced over the radio, concern filling your words 

After a few moments of silence, your engineer’s voice filled your ears. “Seems we have a uh hydraulic problem. You need to retire the car.” 

You muttered a curse as you found a spot to pull your car off. If it wasn’t a strategy issue, it was the car. If it wasn’t the car, it was something else. Something always had to go wrong. 

It was only lap eight and Charles was still driving. You had some hope he could get points for the team and for his championship. 

Throwing on a spare headset in the Ferrari garage, you watched as Charles battled through the streets of Baku. Just as quick as he was driving, the problems with his car also began to show. He had to retire only a handful of laps later with a power problem. 

While Ferrari’s golden boy wouldn’t have a negative thing to say about them during the pressers, you had much less of a filter. 

“You can mark my words that we aren’t winning a championship this year. As much as I want to put faith into our team and our strategies, we’ve shown time and time again we come up short.” 

Instead of your remarks being pushed aside by everyone, you found yourself in the spotlight. All eyes were on you as you walked into the paddock for the British Grand Prix. You acknowledged your team out of respect, and they greeted you back, but you could tell there was tension. 

“Mattia wanted me to tell you that the strategy for today is the same as usual: protect Charles.” Your engineer told you as the two of you sat down for lunch

You furrowed your eyebrows “Why couldn’t Mattia tell me that himself?” 

“He doesn’t think you deserve his time and energy” He said, rolling his eyes 

A scoff left your lips “That’s ridiculous. We’re both adults. He needs to act like it.” 

“You’re telling me” Your engineer muttered 

Before you knew it, it was lights out at Silverstone. The race was a disaster for everyone. While a scary crash had been cleaned up, leading to a restart, another safety car was put out for a stopped car. 

“Y/n box box” Your engineer spoke through your earbuds 

Under the safety car, you were able to pit and get fresh soft tires. When the race resumed, you quickly found yourself behind Charles. 

“Am I defending again?” You asked 

“You are free to overtake, but you must give up the position once Charles gets back up after pitting” 

“You mean Charles didn’t box under the safety car?” 

“Correct.” 

“Fucking idiots” You sighed, but did as you were told. 

Charles easily gave up the front position to you as he headed to the pit lane. You expected him to make a quick comeback in the next few laps, but as the laps ticked by, the gap remained. The radio crackled with instructions from your engineer, and you kept your focus, pushing through. 

And just like that, you crossed the finish line. Your first Grand Prix victory. 

The celebrations were a blur - the podium, the champagne, the flashing cameras. As the trophy was handed to you, you felt a surge of pride, but the weight of the race still hung in the air. Charles had been a force throughout the race, and even though you had won, it felt wrong that he hadn’t been able to capitalize on his pace. 

After the post-race formalities wrapped up, you found yourself in Charles’ room, finally able to breathe. He greeted you with a grin, the kind that only someone who experienced a dramatic race could wear.

“Congratulations! First win!” Charles said, his voice full of enthusiasm 

“You should have fucking won that and we both know it.” You said as you tossed him a Gatorade 

Charles caught the bottle with a small chuckle, cracking it open “You’re fucking telling me.” he said, taking a long swing. “At least Mattia didn’t chastise you on national TV.” 

You leaned against the wall, your arms crossed. “Maybe we’ll both be off speaking terms with him by the end of the season,” you joked, but there was no humor in the situation. “But seriously, what did he say?” 

Charles groaned, clearly not looking forward to recounting the conversation “Basically that I needed to listen to team orders. He was pissed that I was pissed that I didn’t win the thing. Said I needed to trust that the team knows what they’re doing.”

“They know what they’re doing?” You raised an eyebrow “Because the last time I checked, they’ve messed up both of our races this season” 

“Tell me about it” His tone shifted, frustration building, “I need him out.” 

A small grin tugged at the corner of your mouth “Twenty bucks he’s out of his job by the end of the season” 

Charles hesitated for a moment, then extended his hand “Deal” 

The rest of the season trudged along, with highs and lows in the car, the strategy, and the relationship between Mattia and his drivers. There were some days he would be all over their radios encouraging them, while others he would avoid them like the plague. 

And sure enough, once Abu Dhabi came, Charles and Ferrari were so far behind Max and Red Bull that it was impossible to catch up to them in either championship. Mattia announced that he would be stepping down at the end of the season, and you had repaired your rocky relationship with your team, allowing you to renew your contract with Ferrari. 

It was the final time in the media pen this season, and it felt much different. The usual questions about the ups and downs of the season were there, but now they came with a certain respect - respect for the struggles you had endured and for the candidness with which you handled it all. Your honest take on Ferrari’s performance had earned its fair share of criticism, but it had also sparked conversations, both within the paddock and among fans. 

The final question from the reporter hit differently. The interviewer’s tone wasn’t mocking, but rather filled with a certain curiosity. “How does it feel to know that you had called it earlier in the season, that Ferrari weren’t going to win either championship this year?”

The question hung in the air for a moment as you processed it. The emotions of the entire season flashed through your mind: the excitement of the podiums early on, the disappointment after races like Miami and Baku, the frustrations with the strategies, and the battles you fought on and off the track. It had been a rollercoaster, and while it hadn’t turned out the way you had hoped, you were still standing. 

You cracked a smile as you spoke, a mix of pride and exhaustion “Oh, so you guys believe me now?” you said, your voice light but laced with the weight of everything that had happened. “Have a good winter break. I’ll see you in Bahrain” 

It was the moment of closure you needed. The reporter thanked you for your time, before wishing you a good break as well. As you walked away from the media pen with Charles by your side, the season’s tension finally seemed to release, at least for a moment. 

Charles, sensing the mood, nudged you. “That was… honestly, impressive. You know, calling it before anyone else.” 

You let out a short laugh. “Yeah, I guess I had a feeling.” you said, shrugging. “At least I wasn’t wrong.”

Charles smirked, clearly tired but also relieved that the season was over. “Let’s just hope next year’s a little less… chaotic, yeah?”

“Agreed.”