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isuckatwritingsobenice · 3 months

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Infernal Shadows 03

Synopsis: Being one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, you like to keep up with colonies and overlord plans. Recently with the new extermination date out, you hold your annual gala sooner than usual. You hadn’t expected to get in the middle of the already heated feud between the Radio Demon and the head of Vox Tech.

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used for the reader, mentions of blood, voodoo?, Angel Dust being a horn-bag, Reader is referred too as Madame to the public. Vox and Alastor feud because I live for it. Carmilla and Velvet feud because I also live for that. I also really favor Zestial for some reason as a calm mediator.

Song for this chapter: Ludwig van Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 61

A/N: Thank you all so much for your positive feedback & feedback in general on the last two posts!! I really didn’t think this would catch so much attention but I’m so glad people like it. For some reason Tumblr’s being weird and doesn’t want to let me tag certain people, I don’t know why but if anyone does please let me know because I really don’t like that ;/ But I hope you all enjoy this chapter!! Please note that some blogs cannot be tagged, so I recommend checking this post and to check your settings to make sure I can tag you! If anything I can always just message you when the next chapter comes out, and yes I am making this series longer :) it’ll also be posted on my Wattpad soon!

Word count: 3890

Taglist: @dollops-of-delusion @nebusokuxp @scrunchss @rosedasy @valluvz @chesstras @pishybowl @iaaeav @forgotten-blues @22carolina08 @roboticsuccubus83 @doflamingadonquixote @froggyferrets @frompeach @absurd-ash @sillysillyxinnabun @urdariingdoll @delectableworm @immahuman @justaproudslytherpuff @local-mr-frog @angeli-fucking-cat @coldsweetsenthusiast @jadekomaeda @iaaeav @coffeethoughtsandanxiety @lunalixya @pretty-puppy-stuffies @lemonrolls @asimplikeallyall @lunalixya

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!! // Serendipity Writes (event) // Part One. // Part two. // Part four.

Engaging with guests throughout the night had become an exhausting endeavor, and a part of you yearned for the solace of your absence. Nevertheless, you maintained the façade, acknowledging every sinner whose smile dripped with crimson mischief. Having greeted each guest, you discreetly slipped into a shadowed corner, your shadows enveloping your figure quickly, seamlessly disappearing from the expansive room in mere seconds and emerging into an intimate gazebo outside, meticulously arranged beneath the sweeping branches of a weeping willow, you marveled at its unique ambiance. Unlike the earthly counterparts that stood white, the willow in your realm bore a deep crimson hue, its leaves adorned with a subtle, luminous sheen. A gentle smile graced your lips as you leaned against the sturdy black iron railing, delicately cradling a piece of the weeping willow between your fingertips. In the distance, the grand mansion hosting the gala loomed, its opulence contrasting with the simplicity of your secluded retreat. Despite the awareness of etiquette dictating against leaving guests unattended, the need for a mental break led you to this haven, a safe space for you. Reflecting, you acknowledged a desire for better preparation and rehearsal with the shadows, realizing the repetitiveness of conversations with the familiar sinners had rendered the night somewhat lackluster. It almost felt like you had come out of hiding for nothing. Quite the disappointment.

You sigh, massaging your temples, the lace fabric on your fingertips only slightly soothing the growing headache. However, not too far behind, you hear the sound of soft grass. You straighten up and turn around, seeing none other than your long time friend Zestial, who just smiled, nodding at you.

“Why art thou out here all alone on this crimson night?” Zestial inquired, standing by your side with his back against the railing. You resumed your original position, taking a moment to appreciate his father. Mentally noting how much of your grandfather Zestial reminded you of, you kept the sentiment unspoken.

Tonight, Zestial adorned himself in an outfit resonant with his time period, preserving his distinctive color scheme. A dark, meticulously tailored coat with lime green accents draped over his slender frame, capturing the essence of his demonic class. The cloak, adorned with lime green spider webs, unveiled a mesmerizing display when unfurled—his lime green eyes radiating, the upper pair embellished with vivid red irises. Instead of the customary big top hat, Zestial selected a smaller, more appropriate hat with a touch of flair. Dark as the shadows you command, it featured a light grey patch at the front and was finished with a grey-colored skull and a lime green and red-striped feather on the right side, adding a distinctive touch that mirrored his nature.

“Why art thou out here all alone on this crimson night?” Zestial repeated, shifting toward you a bit. Yet you resumed your original position, savoring the quiet ambiance before finally answering him. “What shall we discourse upon during our repast this eventide?” Zestial asked. Though his wording occasionally posed a challenge for others, having grown up in a family of eloquent speakers, you easily deciphered his intent. Something he truly appreciated. Though he was learning to speak more ‘modern’, or as modern as he could be.

“Quite unsure of that. Everything is changing, and I fear I might be left behind,” you expressed bluntly. Zestial sighed in response, a mix of understanding and concern evident in his lime green eyes.

“Madame, thou art timeless,” Zestial said with a bow, his cup proofing into smoke. “I pray thee, vex not thyself o’er so trivial a matter,” he added, his words resonating with both reassurance and genuine care.

You nodded, handing him a card. His surprised expression upon finding two cards instead of one didn’t escape you. “What manner of thing is this?” Zestial inquired, prompting you to summon a shadow for yourself, knowing he would find his own means back to the Gala.

“Carmilla. I am no fool to the both of you,” you said, amusement coloring your words as Zestial shook his head.

“Thou dost astonish me on every occasion,” Zestial remarked, standing by your side as you walked into your portal. Two seats vanished, leaving four empty seats at your table and six occupied.

In your study, you floated scripts in front of you, checking off names on the table list for tonight. With a few overlords left to choose from, Alastor and Charlotte secured seats based on trust and connections. Vox, Zestial, and Carmilla, an unspoken but potent couple, promised intrigue. Reconsidering Velvet for her potential devolution, you weighed each decision with strategic acumen.

Valentino, the Von Eldritch twins, and other weaker options were dismissed, maintaining a careful balance of power and influence. As you weigh the option of inviting Rosie to the gathering, her unpredictable nature adds a layer of excitement and potential surprise to the upcoming discussions. However, this unpredictability could also introduce challenges, creating an air of uncertainty around her contributions. Hopefully with Alastor around, she’d feel more inclined to behave. You check her name off the list.

In considering Stolas, the Goetia prince, his personal issues and tarnished reputation pose significant hurdles. Divorcing from his wife, sleeping with an imp for fun, as well as losing control of his daughter on Earth, it all seemed too risky to get involved with. While his wisdom and influence could contribute positively, the shadows of his struggles may complicate the dynamics, stirring potential conflicts and requiring delicate handling. Someone might get out of line with a comment towards him. His power was incredibly useful, but not worth the risk.

Husk’s transformation from a former overlord to a bartender signals a decline in power and status. While his laid-back demeanor might bring a sense of unpredictability, his diminished influence raises questions about the relevance of his involvement in the current political landscape of hell. Though he was your friend, you needed to keep your reputation pristine.

As the you contemplate the overlords assets, a mix of excitement, caution, and uncertainty envelops the decision-making process. Each overlord’s potential positive contributions are balanced by the looming negatives.

“Madame?” One of your shadows materialized, prompting a nod for them to proceed. “There seems to be some trouble in the lobby between the guests. What would you like us to do?” it inquired. A grimace crossed your face, hoping the disturbance wouldn’t mar your night. “Let me handle it,” you declared, snapping your fingers, causing the script to vanish. The shadow nodded, blending back into a wall for you to step through.

Upon reappearing, you assumed the form of a taller shadow. The room surrounded by guests revealed Vox, Velvet, Alastor, and Carmilla standing in the middle. Zestial, seemingly composed, stood close behind Carmilla, observing the situation. Carmilla appeared visibly upset, with Velvet in proximity, a pointed finger dropping as soon as she noticed your arrival. Alastor maintained his usual wide smile, though it bordered on the eerie, revealing a glimpse of his gums. The scene unfolded, presenting a potential challenge to the serene atmosphere you aimed to maintain during the gala.

Everyone seemed to stop, slowly turning toward you to see your face. Except there was no expression, just the large shadow you had taken form of. In seconds the shadow disappeared, leaving you in the fog, the expression on your face anything but calm.

"Madame I-" Velvet began, but her words were halted by the sight of your lace glove, your hand rising to silence her. Approaching the overlords, you spoke with an air of cold authority.

"My quarters. Now," you commanded, and with a snap of your fingers, smoke enveloped your spot as you vanished. Shadows materialized around the overlords, guiding them to your quarters, leaving the stunned guests in the lobby.

"Well, that was interesting," Valentino remarked.

In your study, the overlords found you seated in your tall, black chair. Its ebony surface featured intricate carvings of black glass, elegant swirls, and patterns tailored to your essence, creating an atmosphere of undeniable authority and refinement.

"I hope you all had fun acting like children," you chided sternly. The overlords lined up, forming a unified front. Leaning against the right side of your chair, you crossed your legs, elbow on the armrest, pinching the bridge of your nose with a sigh. Annoyance laced your words as you questioned, "What did you feel the need to argue about now?" Before Velvet, Vox, and Carmilla could respond simultaneously, you halted them. "One at a time. I'd assume you all handle this like adults, if you even can." The tension in the room hung thick as the overlords awaited their turn to address your inquiry.

“She wants me at her table Vaggie! Me!” Charlotte said excitedly. Vagatha just smiled.

“That’s good! Now you can tell them about the hotel, and maybe someone will be interested.” Vagatha said, and Charlotte just nodded.

“Maybe they-“ Charlotte stopped, observing as people began to crowd around the center of the lobby. Charlotte and Vagatha stood from their spots at the bar to walk toward the center, where the overlords stood. Velvet and Vox were next to each other, while Carmilla, Alastor and Zestial were across. Carmilla and Velvet were face to face. “What’s going on?” Charlotte asked as Vagatha and her pushed their way through the crowds of people.

“Come on, Carmilla, always the mood-killer,” Velvet scoffed, a disrespectful tone tainting her words. Carmilla shot her a stern look, ready to assert her authority.

“Watch that tongue, Velvet. I will not let your insolence slide,” Carmilla retorted, attempting to rein in the escalating tension.

Vox, ever the smooth talker, chimed in, “Ladies, ladies, let’s not turn this into a drama fest. We’re all here for a reason.” Vox said, sternly giving a tight lipped smile to Velvet, silently telling her to keep her shit together.

Carmilla shot a glare at Velvet, who replied with a defiant smirk, “Drama or not, Vox, some of us aren’t here for the ballroom charm.”

Alastor, drawn to the brewing chaos, couldn’t resist adding his flair, “Well, well, a bit of spice never hurt a party, does it?”

Carmilla, unfazed by the chaos, spoke with a calm authority, “Velvet, your insolence is unnecessary. This is not a playground; it’s a gathering of overlords. Act accordingly.”

Velvet, seemingly undeterred, shot back with a dismissive laugh, “Poor Grandma, always trying to play the responsible one. Maybe loosen up a bit? Have a drink will you?”

Vox, ever the smooth talker, added with a slick comment, “Perhaps we can focus on the matters at hand. Save the theatrics for later ladies.”

Alastor, intrigued by the unfolding drama, simply grinned, “Oh the picture box has spoken! Quite intriguing.” The room continued to buzz with tension as each overlord, except Rosie, added their own flavor to the brewing turmoil. As the tension thickened, Vox, with a sly grin, couldn't resist adding his own slick comment to the mix.

"Ah, Alastor, the radio days were quaint, but it seems you're a bit outdated. Television is the future, perhaps you should tune in sometime," he quipped with a wink, the words delivered with a calculated smoothness. The room momentarily hung in a charged silence before the verbal sparring resumed, adding another layer to the complex interplay of personalities at the gala.

With Vox's comment about Alastor being outdated sinking in, the radio demon responded with a sly grin, sharp teeth on display, his eyes displays dials, as the rooms lights began to deepen, "Ah, Vox, your television endeavors are impressive, but remember, I'm not just audible; I'm unforgettable. A little screen time won't change that," he retorted, “This face was made for radio.” He said with a grin, tilting his head to the side, a sharp snap in his neck, his words carrying a mix of amusement and confidence. The verbal exchange between the two overlords added another layer to the already charged atmosphere, each comment becoming a piece in the intricate puzzle of conflicts and egos at the gala.

“See what you did grandma, now you’ve got the two of them fighting.” Velvet said, pointing a finger into Carmella’s chest. She scoffed, shoving her away.

“Don’t you dare get disrespectful on me you brat.” Carmilla said, beginning to heat up with anger.

That's when Madame stepped in, reappearing in the form of a taller shadow, casting a lengthened silhouette in the room brimming with guests. Vox, Velvet, Alastor, and Carmilla found themselves at the center of the unfolding tableau, and Zestial, seemingly composed, lingered just behind Carmilla, quietly observing the escalating drama. Carmilla's visage betrayed a hint of distress, her pointed finger lowering as she registered your reappearance. Alastor, with his trademark grin, bordered on eerie, revealing a glimpse of his gums. The unfolding scene disrupted the serene atmosphere you had meticulously aimed to maintain during the gala, presenting an unexpected challenge.

A hush fell over the room as everyone turned their gaze toward you, anticipating your reaction. However, your face remained expressionless, concealed within the depths of the large shadow you had taken form of. In mere seconds, the shadow dissipated, leaving you in a misty veil. Yet, beneath the calm exterior, a storm brewed, ready to challenge the delicate balance of the evening.

Now, here you all were, sitting in the study after Carmilla had explained the situation.

“Madame, with all due respect,” Carmilla spoke, looking down. “I truly do not believe Velvet is mature enough to be at our table tonight.” Carmilla said.

“Are you questioning my judgment?” You asked sharply, to which Carmilla stiffened quickly, shaking her head then.

”No Madame, I would never-“

“Then do not say foolish things.” You said. Sighing, you shut your eyes, feeling the weight of the situation. Tonight sensitive information would be revealed and Carmilla did have some point here. Velvet clearly could not hold her tongue.

”Vox, control your associate please, or you both will be cut from the dinner tonight.” You said finally, to which he nodded nervously.

“Of course Madame.” He said, nodding to you.

“I wasn’t finished.” You said, looking to Alastor.

“I want none of this technology talk either.” You spoke, staring at Alastor who just smiled with lidded eyes. You knew he was very much upset, but you had forbidden anyone to fight in your home, anyone but you of course. “You all will act like mature adults wether you like it or not. I am not your guardian, I should not be having this conversation with overlords who should know better.” You said, standing. ”Now, all of you, out.” You said, snapping your fingers. Quickly the shadows began to move, ushering everyone out of your study. Everyone except Carmilla. “Not you.” You said to her, Zestial nodding to you and her as he stepped out, giving you both privacy.

“Madame, I didn’t mean what I said-“ Carmilla said quickly. You waved her off, straightening yourself out.

“Nonsense Carmilla, I know you meant well.” You said with a stoic expression. You sit back down, crossing your legs and snapping your fingers to form a chair in front of your desk, ushering her to sit. “I wanted to speak to you about your weapons.” You stated. At this her eyes went wide, before dropping again.

“Oh, very well then. What would you like to know?” She asked. You grinned, before standing again.

“Well, how much would I need to give you for you to make me a personal bayonet?” You asked. She went silent for a moment, before answering.

“Nothing at all Madame.” She said, standing to look at you. “May I ask what for?” She questioned. You shook your head.

“No, just to have on display. I want a new one, the old one I have is quite out of style for me.” You replied. She just nodded, before you waved to her, sitting back down and summoning a script again. “You may go now, and please, do not argue with children.” You commented. She just smiled and nodded, leaving you to your own vices.

It was half-past eleven, five minutes till the midnight bells chime. Everyone in the lobby was beginning to get excited for the entertainment you had planned for the night. Oh, you knew you would not disappoint.

“Madame would like everyone to accompany her on a journey tonight. She has sent me to retrieve you all. She would like to formally welcome you to tonight’s entertainment.” The large shadow said, standing from the topic of the stairs. Behind it was a large portal. It stepped backwards, into the portal, and nodded for the guests to start coming through.

The custom-built coliseum stands as a testament to Madame's vision, a grand fusion of opulence and dark elegance. The circular structure boasts towering columns, but instead of conventional pillars, thick chains rise, intricately linked and serving as both ornamental decor and structural support. The arches, molded in black, curve gracefully around the circumference, evoking a Victorian Gothic aesthetic that permeates the entire venue.

Two larger-than-life statues of Madame herself flank the entrance, capturing her regal poise and adding a touch of imposing authority. The statues serve not only as decorative elements but as a representation of the gala's hostess, a constant presence overseeing the proceedings, she is always watching, all seeing, perfection.

The overall ambiance is one of grandeur and mystery, with the black molding on the arches casting shadows that play into the darker undertones. Every intricate detail, from the chains to the statues, contributes to the unique Victorian Gothic feel of the coliseum, matching Madame’s home perfectly, matching her perfectly. The venue, finally being unveiled to the guests, now welcomes them who are treated to an appetizer course, surrounded by the striking architecture and entertained within the darkly enchanting atmosphere Madame has meticulously crafted.

Numerous shadows, dark and formless, line the entrance walls, extending silent greetings to the arriving guests. Their presence adds an air of mystique and intrigue as they blend seamlessly with the Gothic architecture. As attendees make their way into the coliseum, these shadowy figures create an ethereal welcome, embodying the unique atmosphere of Madame's custom-built venue.

At a separate entrance reserved for the handpicked members of Madame's esteemed dinner table, a solitary shadow stands guard. This entrance, reserved for a select few, hints at the exclusivity and importance of those who will partake in the upcoming dinner. The shadowy sentinels serve not only as silent greeters but also as guardians of the event's secrets, casting an enigmatic allure over the gala.

A singular shadows escorts Charlotte, Alastor, and the rest of the overlords to the exclusive section, leading them to an elevator to bring them to the best seats in the coliseum. The elevator’s interior is a striking display of elegance, with white and black checkered flooring lending a timeless touch. The walls, enveloped in darkness, exude an air of mystery, while black, smokey glass engravings on the ceiling add intricate detailing that dances in the ambient light. Each number on the elevator, indicating the ascending levels, glows a vibrant red, creating a vivid contrast against the monochrome palette.

“Oh I’m so excited! What do you think we’re gonna see? Gladiators? Sinners fight? Oh actually I hope not, I don’t want people to die.” Charlotte said to Alastor. Carmilla just chuckled at her antics while Zestial eyed her with curiosity. Where did Alastor find such a girl and why the princess of all people?

The elevator stops at the top floor, revealing the opening in the middle, which was surprisingly covered with water.

“What is Madame playing at?” Carmilla questioned as the overlords sat in a row at the top. From there they could see everything and everyone.

“I am quite uncertain, yet my anticipation is stirred nonetheless.” Zestial said. The lights around began to dim, and shadows began to pour glasses of water in front of all the guests. Down in the middle of the coliseum was the tallest shadow, the one that seemed to be Madame’s favorite, since it always spoke for her.

“Greetings all. It is Madame’s pleasure to invite you all to the special entertainment tonight. Madame has put together some of hell’s finest performers for your entertainment tonight. I would like to present, preforming here tonight, The Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra preforming Ludwig van Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 61.” The shadow said with a bow, before it vanished just as quick as it came. Then, other shadows appeared, but this time they were different. They were people, performers, with clear outlined silhouettes, faces and expressions, even clothes.

“Hey, Al?” Charlotte asked, leaning over in her seat to Alastor. He let out a ‘hm?’ In response.

“Does Madame own those souls down there?” Charlotte whispered, but before Alastor could answer, a shadow had already cut in.

“Yes. All the shadows here, even yours, Madame owns.” The shadow said quietly, filling Charlotte’s glass cup with water. Charlotte nervously, perked up, but said nothing as she shadow carried on with it’s catering.

The ethereal notes of the music filled the air as the performance unfolded. Around the musicians stood ballet dancers, their movements a delicate poetry in motion. Clad in all black, the performers created a stark contrast to the dancers, who emerged with an otherworldly grace akin to figures rising from the depths of water. The dancers moved with an angelic fluidity, their forms intertwining seamlessly with the haunting melody, creating a mesmerizing tableau that captivated the audience. The visual symphony of black-clad musicians and the whisky-hued ballet dancers painted a scene of enchantment and mystery within the grand coliseum. Even down to the dancers, this had Madame written all over it.

Velvet's keen eye captured the essence of the dancers' ethereal movements on paper. With each stroke of her sketch, she depicted the dancers as if emerging from a watery abyss, the fog enveloping their feet creating an illusion of water flowing upward. The intricate details on her sketch paper brought to life the dancers' graceful forms, their figures seemingly intertwined with the rising mist, evoking the enchantment of a waterspout captured in a moment of sublime artistry. Velvet's artistic interpretation added a layer of depth to the performance, transforming the ephemeral dance into a tangible and captivating visual narrative.

Water had begun to swirl, the dancers moving around it, the water getting taller and taller, similar to the way it had when you had first made your entrance at the beginning of the Gala. Now, it was water, and from Charlotte’s seat, she had struggled to make out what was going on. She turned to Alastor to see him holding a pair of opera glasses in his hand. Without you having to ask, he tapped the armrest of her seat. Charlotte turned to the side to see a pair tucked neatly against the front of the armrest. She grabbed them quickly, before looking through them and at the waterspout now forming in the middle. Her jaw flew open, as well as the loud screech of Alastor’s track playing. Vox had short circuited, and Carmilla gasped loudly. Velvet stood silent, but there was evident confusion on her face, while Zestial sunk into his seat, conflicting emotions flowing through him.

“Madame- she’s-“ Charlotte stuttered, and Alastor nodded, swallowing thickly.

“With an exorcist. I know.”

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin charlie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin vaggie #hazbin demon #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel rosie #alastor #zestial hazbin hotel #yandere alastor x reader #yandere alastor #yandere vox #yandere vox x reader #hellaverse #isuckatwritingsobenice infernal shadows #isuckatwritingsobenice

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angelofsmalldeath-codeine · 2 months

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Good Saturday, y’all.

Topic of today’s rant: PEOPLE PRINTING AND SELLING FANFIC & GENERAL FANDOM ETIQUETTE

Profiting from fanfic will ruin it for everyone.

I want all of you who gift us your stories to be safe from lawsuits and beware that your content might be stolen.

Not to be on a soapbox and preaching to the choir but here are.

There are many authors pulling their work off AO3 because people acting on bad faith are printing and binding fics to sell on etsy thus infringing copyright laws. Fanfic has always been a grey area and we are allowed to exist in this grey area because we are not profiting from it. The minute money is exchanged, every party involved is breaking the law.

Why am I complaining about this yet again? Because we might be deprived from enjoying fanfic with the freedom we currently have because the fanfic authors will fear getting sued. If third parties are stealing our work and selling it, publishers and studios won’t care to know who sold it. It is your handle (thus IP address) on the sold fanfic. Because, get this, they are doing downloads straight from ao3 with your usernames.

Manacled is being pulled from ao3 because the author will publish it as a book. People are putting the book at risk by selling printed versions of it on Etsy.

I believe many of us who fall on the 20 years of reading fanfic side rather than on the 20 year olds reading fanfic will remember the Anne Rice days. These are not fully over because her son is carrying on the legacy of suing everyone who writes fanfic of her work. And if I may say, she didn’t invent vampires and should’ve taken many seats. I digress.

I am not sure of the levels of awareness within this community and to what extent it can affect all of us. TikTok is a massive contributor to this problem (as it is to many other problems. Again, I digress) since booktok and the binding folks discovered ao3.

You might think, I only post on tumblr so my content is safe. Well, they are finding their way here too. They cringe because tumblr is for old people but they still make their way here with their bad manners and pillaging behaviour.

I want all of you who gift your stories to be safe, lawsuit free, not lose your content and not be afraid of sharing.

I wish I had a definitive solution to this problem but I can only think of small actions:

report the etsy accounts selling fanfic/fanfic commissions,

report the TikTok accounts selling binding for fanfic work,

go back to the days of putting disclaimers on your notes that you don’t own the characters and you are not profiting from the story.

Tagging some authors* here for visibility so you can cascade to more people. Absolutely no pressure tag.

@theywhowriteandknowthings @tightjeansjavi @diversemediums @goodwithcheese @nerdieforpedro @fhatbhabie @undercoverpena @thelightsandtheroses @ezrasbirdie @notjustjavierpena @javierpena-inatacvest @freshlyrage @5oh5 @wardenparker @endlessthxxghts @creedslove @sp00kymulderr @secretelephanttattoo @gnpwdrnwhiskey @whatsnewalycat @pedrostylez @thetriumphantpanda @toointojoelmiller @dancingtotuyo @agentjackdaniels @ladamedusoif @lotrefcp @wildemaven @musings-of-a-rose @justagalwhowrites @morallyinept @pedropascalsx @criticallyacclaimedstranger @pennyserenade @kteague @astoryisaloveaffair @moralesispunk @linzels-blog @metalnecklace

*I can remove the tag if you are not comfortable with being associated with this post.

#fanfic authors #fanfic writers deserve everything in the world #support fanfic writers #fanfic writers #dont steal fanfic #tiktok ruins everything #this is for you new fandom babies btw #fandom #fandom etiquette #stolen work #stolen fanfic #stop profiting from fanfic because it will ruin it for everyone

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eetherealgoddess · 2 months

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Hey, I just had a really good idea for u to write. A yandere bonten and a singer/ famous reader. I really love your writing style, and I get sooo excited when I see u post something 🫶🤭

Thank youu!! I get excited for good requests :)

ꨄMelodic Ruinꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Bonten/Famous Singer Au

❦You’re an artist who caught Bonten’s attention❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

(Mostly Mikey but you’ll see what I mean)

❣︎I know in real life the manager doesn’t “own” the singer, but in this story, the reader will have signed all of their artistic rights to the manager so that the plot will make sense❣︎

Not fully proofread

Japanese language is red

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Melodic Ruin

Claps could be heard echoing throughout the concert hall as you stood on the surface with a sweet smile, thanking the audience before walking off the stage, the lights shutting off behind you as the crowd began to make their leave. The long dress you wore hugging your figure as the train of the fabric followed behind. You had just completed the last performance for your concert, your hands rubbing along your sides as you released a breath of relief. Of course you don’t get as much anxiety as you did when you first started singing in front of thousands of people, you just really cared about your craft. A perfectionist you could say. This particular performance was important as well considering the extra onlookers your manager warned you about, you having noticed a few of the “important” people in the VIP seats when you were on the stage.

You are ranked as a famous singer in your country, not having been worldwide just yet besides the few videos of you singing at home or in the studio that went viral, as well as your first album that was released recently. You’re a new industry baby, but you’re still trying to keep your own personality in your work without getting controlled by any record deal which is why you’re an independent artist. You take pride in your art, creative by heart and ambitious by nature. It took you quite a few years of releasing singles and singing social media videos to finally get noticed for your talent. You’re proud of yourself which is something that doesn’t happen often enough. You’re not exactly at the top yet but you’re not mad with where you’re at.

“Good job, Y/n! You’ve caught quite the attention!” Your manager greets you just as you made it backstage, offering you the business card in her hand. You look down and take the paper on your own, eyeing the print. Your eyes widened.

“I got invited to perform in JAPAN?!” You exclaim. Never have you ever gotten an opportunity to go out of the country, only touring around local concerts although still popular by demand.

“A private, high classed lounge owned by club owners Haitani Ran and Haitani Rin! Isn’t this great news?” She beams as she holds her hands up. You look at her with your eyes glistening, a wide smile on your face as you feel so grateful for the opportunity. And to be personally invited to perform at this specific lounge is a huge deal for you. You’ll have more of a chance at getting acquainted with bigger connections. It’s intimidating, yet you couldn’t help the excitement that your hard work is finally paying off even bigger than it has.

“We’re leaving first thing tomorrow so get your bags packed because it’s gonna be a long trip!” Your manager says before giving your arms a tight squeeze. “You deserve this, Y/n. Bask in it now because before you know it, you’ll be attracting even bigger opportunities.” She walks off, leaving you with the business card as you read the print once more.

You immediately change before packing your bags when you make it home, excitement making it hard to fall asleep although eager for the next day to come. It was early in the morning when you and your manager met at the airport holding your private jet. Checking your consistent notifications as well as scrolling through social media. Sitting on the plane was full of thought while you listened to the music blasting from your headphones, thinking about the venue you’d be performing at. How intimate it’ll be to sing amongst all of those people who will be judging you, observing your creativity to see if it’s worth the profit.

An empty estate was offered to you and your manager, coming upon a penthouse once your driver dropped you off. Your manager basked in the luxury as she unpacked, talking your ear off as if she’s more excited than you. You chuckle at the thought before heading to your own bedroom to unpack, an eyebrow raising at the name tagged on the door. When you opened the door, you were met with a modernized luxury bedroom. The body sized window gives you a beautiful view of the city from above. You stood there a moment before turning around to get your outfit ready for the night, already having notified your manager to not call the stylist since you already had an idea of what you were going to wear.

When evening finally struck you had just climbed into the vehicle, your driver helping you in before shutting the door behind you, along with your two security guards who traveled with you. Your manager sat in the passenger seat, the black suv moving along as you eye through the tinted window. Your nerves are struck, having never performed in a country other than your own. Especially with the presence of numerous important individuals, you couldn’t afford to make any rookie mistakes.

When you arrived, you were helped out of the car, different locals being held back by guards already posted for the lounge, keeping the crowd behind the ropes as you walked along the red carpet. You waved and smiled as people screamed your name and song lyrics, cameras flashing as well as paparazzi ready for the next best shot. Finally making it inside, you were greeted with a beautiful melody, red covering the walls with a marble floor. Gold decor plastered along as well as the large chandelier hanging from the middle of the room.

A red rug sat in the middle of the floor along with cushioned chairs and glass tables, a bar across from the stage as well as many people conversing with champagne and other alcoholic beverages. A woman holds a microphone on the stage, entertaining the audience with beautiful harmony. Everyone wears all black formal attire, causing you to look down at your shimmery, golden gown with a grimace. You turn to your manager as you both walk down the hall in the opposite direction, heading for the dressing room.

“I thought I was supposed to wear gold.” You say softly. She smirks.

“You are. Don’t forget, Y/n. This is your special night.”

My special night, right.

You take a deep breath before one of your security guards opens the dressing room.

Your eyes perk at the man standing inside. He turns his head back before walking towards you with a smile. You eye his purple orbs before examining the suit accenting his broad figure. His neck tattoo displays a symbol you’ve never seen before, though it fit him well. Fingers run through his short, dyed hair as he gets closer.

“Welcome, Y/n. Haitani, Ran.” He states, holding a hand out. You smile politely, ignoring your anxiety as you shake his hand. You couldn’t help but notice how soft his skin felt against yours.

“Hello, Mr. Haitani. Thank you so much for this opportunity.” You beam, subconsciously rubbing your palms against the fabric of your dress, refraining from picking at the dress.

“Please, call me Ran. The pleasure is all mine. We are grateful to have you here.” He says, before connecting his lips with the back of your hand, gaze still holding yours. You felt your face warm, having never been handled so gently by a man considering the type of males that live in your hometown. Your manager walks up, both of them greeting each other, though her body is slightly tense when she gives him a tight smile. You fail to notice the display of tension, too focused on the tingling sensation lingering from the contact with your hand.

“I see that gold fits you very well. Best choice I’ve ever made.” He chuckled. So he recommended it to your manager?

That brings you comfort knowing you hadn’t made a mistake, after all it never felt good to be the odd one out because of misinformation.

“Indeed it is. Y/n, let’s get you ready to perform!” Your manager eased her arm around your shoulder before pulling you off, Ran waving bye as he exited the room while you shifted your gaze at her with confusion.

“What was that about?” You question her as she fixes her own makeup in the mirror.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The way you just interr…”

“Y/n.” She breathes out. “Let’s focus on your music, yeah?” She says as she touches up your face. You nod your head right before an employee comes in to queue you. You exhale before heading down the hall behind the stage.

“Please give a warm welcome to Ms. Y/n!”

Straightening your back, you stepped onto the stage, revealing yourself to the audience who claps and cheers, giving you the welcome you deserve. You gaze at the beautiful view of the crowd, noticing a familiar suit sitting with eight other interesting looking men. You greet the crowd right before the music begins, beginning your performance as everyone quiets down, along with the light over the audience dimming.

During your performance, you allow yourself to get lost in the music. Closing your eyes as your hand moves along, flowing with the melody as your beautiful voice harmonizes well with the piano. Your head tilts as you release a stronger note that comes from the base of your voice, tightening your grip on the microphone as you walk along the stage. The slit of your gown opens slightly, exposing your thigh as you move across the stage. Your gaze shifts to different sides of the lounge, making eye contact with a few of the audience members as some of them sway their upper bodies with your song.

The frequency of your voice brings a sense of calmness to the crowd, some with their palm holding their cheek up as they wear a smile, pleasantly losing themselves with you as they seem to be in a trance that locks them in to only you. Some lean into your presence as they gaze at your figure, nodding their heads occasionally to the flow as well as admiring your overall appearance.

Your manager stands behind the stage, out of the sight of everyone as she chews her nails, shifting her gaze to the eight males that sit upstairs with the best view of the stage. Her eyebrows furrow while her arms tremble slightly, unable to focus on anything else but the intimidating gazes stuck on you. The platform of her shoe taps against the ground as she exhales.

The music goes out just as your voice lingers the last note, eyes fluttering back open as a grin grows on your expression, all the while one of your arms lie out to the side. You set the microphone back on the stand after you bow with a “thank you,” as everyone claps. You accidentally catch Ran’s gaze as well as the other men just as you wave ‘goodbye’ to the audience. You meet your manager behind the stage as she gives you a smile and pulls you into a hug.

“Great job, Y/n! Now let’s celebrate.”

The night was spent drinking as well as having conversations with various people, discussing their businesses and hobbies as well as asking you numerous facts about yourself. Your manager seemed to have disappeared a while ago, leaving you to sit by yourself on a lounge chair, the dress hugging your legs as if you were a mermaid. You eye your phone’s screen while taking a sip of your champagne, eyeing the recent post of your own performance until the shadow of a person steals your attention.

“We need to go, now!” Your manager says before snatching your wrist, pulling you along as drops of liquid splash out of the glass.

“M/n? What the hell?” You gasp as you’re caught off guard, almost tripping over your own dress while she forces you to rush to the dressing room.

You yank your arm out of her grip before glaring at her.

“M/n! What is going on? Why have you been so on edge tonight?” She quickly gathers all of your stuff as you stare at her with disbelief. She pauses, failing to look at you.

“L-look. I’ll explain everything later. We just need to get out of Japan right now.”

“Wait a minute. I thought we were staying for a few days.” Your tone shifted to concern. “What’s wrong, M/n? Did something happen?” She drops the makeup supplies before turning to you and gripping your arms.

“I told you, Y/n! I will explain everything later, but right now we don’t have much time! We need to leave, now!” You gaze at her with shock along with fear as you become nervous by her own look of terror. Sweat sliding along the lining of her forehead along with her eyeliner slightly smeared with red eyes.

What the fuck is going on?

“Oh? What’s the rush? The party was just getting started.” A smooth voice says with amusement behind you. You watch as your manager’s eyes widened before you turned to meet your gaze with three men. Your eyes met a familiar purple though the rest of the features were slightly different, the purple mullet being the most prominent as well as the matching tattoo you saw on the male earlier. You guessed this man to be the other owner of the club, Haitani Rin.

Standing to his right is a man with golden eyes, blonde strands falling over his face along with his black hair pulled into a neat ponytail. His expression was light, holding a smile that you could mistake for politeness. He placed his hands in his pockets after shutting the door behind them. To the Haitani’s left is a man with narrowed blue eyes that seem to pierce into your soul, his pink mullet shaped perfectly around his beautiful features. Your gaze shifts to the scars placed at the corners of his mouth, furrowing your brows before you take in the situation at hand.

“What’s going on, M/n?” You side eye her as you watch her eyes widen. Her lips slightly apart as she tries to think of something to say.

“That was a beautiful performance, Y/n. Fitting for such a gorgeous woman.” The blonde says as he approaches, holding a hand out. The tiger in black ink on his neck added to the intimidating aura that contrasts with the expression on his face. He mimics Ran, bringing your limp hand to his lips while gazing into your eyes. A look of such intensity that you had to look away.

“Thank you…” You pause in expectance.

“Kazutora.” You nod with a polite smile before shifting your gaze to the others.

The tension in the room has yet to disappear. You couldn’t really focus on anything else but how scared your manager looks right now.

“M/n. It’d be in your best interest to follow us. The King wants to speak to you.” The pink haired one says, a look of satisfaction crossed his face when he states ‘the King,’ which causes you a little confusion by the title.

Kazutora takes the opportunity to wrap an arm around your shoulder, pulling you along as you look behind to glance at your manager with a questioning look. You all walk out of the dressing room and through the hall. The only sounds being your heels clicking and their speech, nothing you could decipher because of the differing language.

“Surprised she’d be Mikey’s type.” Rin says to the other men.

“No kidding. Who knew a famous babe from Y/c would catch his eye?” Kazutora says while glancing at you.

“There’s a lot you two don’t know about Mikey.” The pink haired man replies.

“Hm, I guess you’re right Sanzu. Wonder how long it’ll take before blood sheds tonight.” Kazutora rubs his chin.

“Can’t wait to find out.” Sanzu smirks.

You turn back to glance at your manager who looks as though the color on her face has disappeared.

I hope I find out what’s going on with her.

You all arrive upstairs, walking down a hall before being met with an office. When you walked in, you noticed the other men who sat on the balcony with Ran, standing around the desk facing the entrance. Ran also in position though sitting in a chair next to the desk in the spacious room. A man with pale hair sits behind the desk with a sweater hanging off of his shoulders, dark eyes gazing into yours as Kazutora removes his arm and leads you to your seat. Your manager sits beside you on another chair, along with Rin standing by her side and Kazutora standing by yours, everyone facing the platinum haired male. Sanzu takes position beside the short man, standing by his chair with his hand holding the other.

You felt on edge, seven pairs of eyes focused on you, all the while silence filled the room. You turn in your seat to look at the blocked entrance, some other broad men blocking the door. Your eyebrows furrowed as the room seemed to get colder, turning back in your seat as you faced the mystery man.

“Speak.” His narrowed eyes meet your manager’s.

She hesitates as you watch her shift uncomfortably in her seat. Her chest rises as she takes a shaky breath in before exhaling.

“U-um, I…” She stammers, fingers trembling against the arm of the chair. You stay quiet, concerned with her behavior as your own body glistens with sweat from stress. You shift in your seat, straightening your back as you cross your ankles, your legs fidgeting as you feel the butterflies in your stomach.

“You tried to leave? And so soon?” He questions, his expression stoic as his eyes bore into your manager’s. Her hands move to her lap as her foot taps against the ground.

“U-uh, no. No I didn’t.” She breathes out.

“I think you did. Didn’t she?” They all responded with “Yes Boss.” Before silence falls once more.

“Why?” M/n’s mouth shuts as she tries to think of something. You could only guess that she was nervous because of whatever business title the men hold so you decide to speak up for her.

“We’re grateful for the opportunity, really. It’s just been a long night.” You explain, only causing some of the men to chuckle at the naivety. Your eyebrows furrow in irritation. “Okay, what the hell is really going on?”

M/n looks at you with wide eyes before holding her hands up and shaking her head.

“Y-Y/n, I’ll explain later, just give me some ti…”

“No, tell me right now why everyone is acting so weird. Stop wasting time.” You growl, sick of the antics and the vague conversations.

The man looks at you for a moment before nodding to Rin. To your surprise he pulls out a gun just as M/n hops out of her seat causing the chair to fall backwards. She runs to the entrance only for him to hold the weapon up, shooting the gun. The bullet penetrates her back, causing her to fall over, a shriek leaving her lips as the throbbing pain fills her senses. You jump out of your seat in shock, eyes staring at the blood staining her attire while she lays her head on the floor.

“What the fuck?” You exclaim, heading to the bleeding girl only to get pulled against a chest, arms wrapped around your waist, pulling your feet off the ground.

“You said to stop wasting time!” Kazutora laughs as the rest look on in amusement to the woman losing consciousness.

“Y/n! I-I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry! I had no choice! I had no choice!” She weeps, hand smacking against the floor as she covers her head with her arm. “I’m so sorry.” She whimpers.

“What are you talking…! Let me fucking go! She needs to go to the hospital!” You yell, beating Kazutora’s arms as you try to pry them off, kicking your feet.

Sanzu walks to the woman lying on the ground. Setting a foot to the wound before pressing down, causing a strangled gasp to come out of her mouth. You struggle harder as you watch him point a gun to her head from above.

“Explain yourself.” He growls, smiling wide with crazed eyes.

“I-I sold you! I s-sold… you! It’s… *gasp* all in their…*pant* hands!” She weeps, “I h-ha… *grunt* had no choice!” Her own nails pierce her palms as she turns her hands to fists, squeezing in pain as he continues to press his weight down.

You could only stare in silence as you paused your struggling.

“T-they’re a… a gang! A *pant* criminal….organization! Th-they…*grunt* threaten…!” She screams out in agony once Sanzu pulls his leg up and slams his foot down on her wound. You wince as you begin to struggle again.

“Let her go!” You were angry with her, yes. However, if the truth is that they threatened her, you couldn’t help but empathize despite your lingering resentment. Your only focus was to get both of you out of here alive. You wondered where your guards were.

“Yes, ma’am.” Sanzu smiles before moving his foot off of her and cocking the gun, pulling the trigger. The bullet blasts half of her skull open. The sickening sound of blood splattering the floor causes you to gasp before you yell out, tears falling out of your eyes at the traumatic display.

“Hey, save those vocals for the bedroom, yeah?” Ran jokes before lighting a cigarette, some of the other men chuckling at his response.

“Let me go! Let me go, goddamnit!” You growl angrily, crying as Kazutora forces you to sit down.

He cocks his gun, bringing the barrel to your head while putting a finger over his lips. You eye him with a look of horror.

“Shh.” He starts. “Boss isn’t done talking.”

You pant as you hold your chest, staring back at their ‘boss’ who eyes you quietly. The room calms down once more as everyone takes their original positions, a gun still pressed to your head. He slides a form over for you to read. You lean in your seat and look over the sheet that confirmed your manager’s signature, signing you over to Bonten, a criminal organization residing in Japan.

“The contract doesn’t lie. During this term and all others, you are now the property of Bonten.”

You shook your head while whispering, “No.”

“I own you, Y/n. You can either fall in line willingly or by force. I don’t care. You’re mine.” He says before standing from his seat.

“Mikey.” He says to you before shifting his attention to the others. “Take her to Bonten’s headquarters.”

Kazutora hides his gun and grabs your arm as you struggle against his hold. Just as Mikey and Sanzu, along with some of the other men, head to the doorway, he says, “Knock her out if you have to.”

A breathy laugh is released from Kazutora before he pulls back a fist.

“Sorry, doll.”

Darkness immediately engulfs your vision.

205 notes · View notes

sameschmidtdiffname · 3 months

Text

Tumblr WILL NOT let me post the fic and this ask at the same time and I've tried legit five times. So THANK YOU anon for the request and I'm sorry for the weirdness in uploading. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy this!

My Ghost.

Billy x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: You don't know what happened that night. Things were fine, life was good, then your partner is on the news for all sorts of shit you never would've thought him capable of the day prior. He was dead, he was evil, and you were trying to move on. But what's the proper etiquette when the dead show up on your door unannounced?

Tags: No use of Y/N, hurt/comfort, fake death, mentions of drinking, drug use/dealing, grieving, arguing, cursing, flashbacks, brief suggestive scenes, suicidal thoughts.

Other Works in This Series: 'Repentance' (Prequel to 'My Ghost') • 'Lapses' (Sequel to 'My Ghost')

Notes: The way I've been trying to upload this for two hours. Oh my fucking God. Anyways, everyone say thank you to anon for getting me to write something that doesn't make God cry.

-¤°》◇《°¤-

I'm not hard to please, but I'm not desperate despite what the rumors may say.

People enjoy gossip. People who don't know fuck all about you. And my standards are fine. Were fine. And I don't mean standards such as 'buys me flowers everyday' or 'doesn't deal coke.' I mean standards such as 'is a decent fucking person.'

"That's what I thought you were up until all of this fucking... disappearing for months!" I scream, anger fueling me. I don't let the other emotions win out, don't let them have a say. Because if I do, I'll be too conflicted and overwhelmed and then I'm gonna cry, and that's not fair.

People had warned me he was trouble. Terms such as 'wannabe cowboy,' 'rebel without a cause' were tossed around in warning. But to me, he was just Billy.

Then he was dead.

Now, he was here. He showed up at my door nine months after leaving me with a small little keychain on the kitchen table and a soft kiss on my forehead, saying he had some plans for that evening. But he'll be back soon.

Then he was on the news. And a gas station blew up. Gangs, stolen vehicles. He was probably dead. Things would be easier if he was dead.

Fine. Maybe I initially ignored warning signs. Maybe I was distracted by his handsome side profile, too busy admiring his nose to notice the occasions it was dusted with the trace of a fine powder. Maybe his hands were too beautiful for me to realize they were slipping money to men in dark jackets when we went out to the rougher parts of town. But he was mine and I was his, and overall he was a good person.

He was alive. He was alive and I was mad because if he was dead then at least it would be valid that for nine months I have had to deal with the accusatory stares of our neighbors assuming I knew, the pity from my loved ones, and the betrayel that kept me awake at night. It would mean he hadn't left me to deal with his repercussions, that maybe there was a valid excuse. An undiagnosed brain tumor that finally gave way to insanity, a gun to his head. Something that was not the worst case scenario of just... being an awful person. I could let his things rest around the house undisturbed, hiding from the world and waiting to find the courage to join him one day and living in denial in the meantime. What the fuck was all of this?

"I couldn't tell you," he keeps saying. "It was better if you knew nothing until I was sure I could come get you."

"Why didn't you just take me with you from the start?" I ask. I've been pacing the floor for the past twenty minutes ever since he showed up. It was better than throwing every breakable object in the cheap, worn down shack of a house at him, which was my second instinct. My first was to pull him into my arms, draw the curtains shut and hide him away so that he'll never leave again. Like an idiot.

He laughs bitterly. "You would not be asking that if you knew what the fuck I went through," he says. His words sound like they should be angry, but there's this lightness to them like he can't let himself think too much about it. It just makes me angrier.

"Don't fucking laugh!" I snap. "Do you think any of this is funny?"

"I think you're funny when you're mad," he deflects, smiling. "You got this whole routine. Pacing, nose twitching. I like the Shirley Temple stomps, like you're a kid."

I groan loudly, the noise almost sounding like a low scream in my throat.

"You owed money to fucking- who?" I yell.

"The details don't matter-"

"When I have been grieving your death for nine months, they fucking matter!" I snap. His brows furrow, his hands mid air as if to say 'the fuck did I do?'

"You know me, okay? I don't get caught," he says as though it were obvious.

"I know fucking nothing!" I practically scream.

When we met he was just a guy at a bar, handsome, wearing that same ridiculous jacket that I couldn't help but stroke the white fluff on, tequila running through my veins.

"Can I help you?" He asked, smirking.

"Just wanted to see what it felt like," I said.

"Wanna feel something else?" He asked, his chin resting on his head.

"Oh, fucking gross. Fuck o-"

"I was talking about this," he said, whipping out his keys to show off an odd, weirdly shaped keychain with short, stiff fuzz. "Don't call me a pervert just cause you're one."

He was smiling. It was an easy smile. Careless, happy with life. I loved that smile. It meant things were always alright as long as he was smiling.

He was smiling on the photo they used for the manhunt.

We'd danced the whole night. He didn't know hardly any of the songs, causing him to be off beat. I was too drunk to keep time, so I stepped on his leather boots enough times there was a visible scuff on the top of one by the end of the night. I always felt bad, offering to replace or help pay to fix it. He wouldn't let me.

"They're a keepsake," he'd insist. "A living memory." He wore them everyday.

He's wearing sneakers, today.

At the end of the night, I stumbled out of the bar with a note in my coat pocket. It took two weeks for me to wear that coat again, and when I found the slip I'd almost thrown it away, assuming it was something dumb. But when I saw the worst handwriting in the world displaying a number belonging to someone named 'Keychain Guy,' I almost couldn't wait to call.

"Bullshit," Billy snaps. "You know me better than anyone."

"Don't say that," I say, putting a hand out protectively to keep him away. "That's exactly why everyone thinks I was just fine with that whole- fucked up thing!"

A gas station burned. A stolen vehicle. People were dead. People were dead.

Billy was presumed dead.

There was no funeral. He had no family, and none of mine wanted to put money into something that would be protested by the whole town anyways. No body to bury, nothing to do but gather up his things and smoke what remained in his stash until people came to nurse me back to life. By that point there wasn't even relief in drugs. The taste simply reminded me of better times cooking in the kitchen as we blew the smoke into each others faces, or worse. Better. Whatever.

I never questioned when Billy went out of town. I knew his work had details I didn't want nor need to know. Money was tight. But Billy always came home with little things whenever he went on unexpected trips. Knick knacks, snacks, some item I'd seen at the store and picked up to make a comment about. Had he been particularly forthcoming about his dealing when we started dating? No. He said he worked for a local small business, which technically isn't untrue. But about six months in, he was the one who approached me and sat me down at the small, rickty round table to tell me the truth. And that's what mattered to me. The economy is shit and it's not like it was meth, so who am I to judge?

About a year into it, I was begging for him to do something else.

"I don't like you disappearing," I told him. "I'm scared one day you're gonna piss someone off and that'll be the end. Then what am I gonna do?"

"Then you're gonna make sure they don't fuck up my face during the embalming process for the funeral," Billy said around his hand rolled cigarette. I whip the small dish towel at him, making him laugh and protect his small ashtray that I made him for Christmas the year prior. It was shitty, uneven, and I'm 99% sure a fire hazard. But he wouldn't use any other ones unless I was the one who bought them for him, and even then he favored this one. 'When this place goes up in flames,' I thought, 'I'll regret that gift.'

I'd kept it by the kitchen window every day since he'd died. "Died." It was his spot.

He moves to sit there now, looking in his pockets for the small box of prerolled cigarettes.

"People know you weren't involved," he says dismissively.

"Your friends know. What about the old ladies at church? The checkout clerks at the store? How about the fucking mailman?" I shout, convinced I'm still talking to the dead. "You think they know the ins and outs of the local psychos support group?" I ask, gesturing and stepping closer.

I was the local outcast now. Not to be trusted, not worth kindness. Shame was my title, and when Billy appeared on my doorstep at an hour where only I was awake I was sure I'd caught the same awful disease that must have been what sent him spiraling that winter day. It wasn't until he pushed the door open fully, taking me into his arms and pressing a warm kiss to my lips that I knew he was real. It was a feeling I was in the early stages of forgetting, blurry and cold. But here he was, the stubble on his chin a bit longer and his ears missing the small hoops that had glittered in the sunlight when he walked out the door.

Then I'd pushed him away. And the fight began.

"I'm not a fucking psycho," he argues. His hands pat around his outfit, searching. "You got a lighter?"

"Fuck off." I kept his favorite in my left pocket. I had to be careful what things of his I wore or kept on my person. People close to me knew I would have never condoned his actions, but even they had glared at me in the early wake of Billy's death when I dared to wear one of his shirts out of the house, or more commonly one of his thick leather jackets. But a lighter can be hidden, and unless you had borrowed it you wouldn't know it had specifically been his. So I kept it with me all the time, just feeling it next to my skin with the only barrier being the fabric of my pocket. Without a thought, I cover the small item as though he can see right through me. Picking up on the hint, he's rises from the table and begins walking over to me.

"Don't be a dick, just let me borrow it," he says, holding out his hand.

"Fuck off," I snap.

"You've said that. I just need it for two seconds," he says as his hands begin to gently grab at me, one on my shoulder and the other dipping into my pocket.

"Get the fuck off of me!" I yell, slapping at him.

"Just let me have-"

He cuts himself off as he pulls out the lighter from my pocket, his thumb grazing over the printed picture. The Statue of David. He'd bought because it made us laugh. One side was the regular statue, the other a close up of its small genitals with cursive writing underneath spelling the art piece's name.

"Oh," Billy says quietly.

We stand for a moment, silent. He doesn't seem sure what to do. My lungs burn with unheaved sobs. I fucking hate this.

"You were gonna come back," I finally say quietly. I hate how my voice sounds when I'm upset. I hate that I'm wearing his dogtag, an item he'd bought at a World War II museum in middle school that he gave me for our first Christmas because we were both too broke to actually buy each other anything, hence the poorly made ashtray. I hate that when I sleep at night it's in his clothes that I rarely wash because the idea of losing his smell makes me want to scream. I hate that his scent is different from the bottle of cologne he kept next to my makeup, one time spilling all over the entire bathroom counter because we'd gotten too wrapped up in each other, dragging our nails down each others backs and watching ourselves in the mirror until one wrong move of my hand revealed he'd been a bit too careless about screwing the lid back on earlier in the day. I'd always warned him about that.

I'd been in the bathroom putting on my permanently scented blush when I got the text.

"I was going to," he said softly. "Then I couldn't."

"So what?" I say, not daring to turn and face him, choosing instead to stare at where the cheap, old wood paneling of the wall meets the shaggy, stained carpet that you have to wear shoes on due to the staples that have begun sticking out of it. "You just propose to someone and then pretend to die?"

Valentines Day was an awfully cheesy day to do it. So it's a good thing it was a technicality.

The day had been lovely. Billy had saved up a little to take me to a local hibachi place, telling me to wear my best outfit and jewelry. It was slightly overkill, but it's the small things in life, isn't it?

We'd come home with a bottle of wine, a low budget movie to ignore and hands searching desperately for each other.

"I love you," he'd said between pants. "You're mine."

"Buy a ring," I'd dared. Our minds were buzzed, the bottle half empty and our clothes thrown away without care. Took me weeks to find his both of his socks.

I hadn't meant for him to take it seriously. But I guess he decided it was time.

Two days later I thought it was odd when he walked into the house with my favorite lunch. It wasn't expensive really, we just usually got it for special occasions or days that had been mentally harder for me. And things were normal that day. I was getting ready for my shift, running around like I always do trying to make sure I've got everything.

"Your coffee's in the cup, will you just sit down?" He laughed, watching me. I quickly collected the take out box, sipping my coffee and wincing over its temperature.

"Fuck, that burns," I cursed. He wrapped his arms around me, trying to get me to sit at the table. "Baby, I can't," I protested softly, but I was laughing. He was peppering me in kisses, giving me those big puppy dog eyes everyone knew were my weakness. He wanted for nothing so long as he looked at me just like that.

"Just this once," he asked, pressing a kiss to my cheek. I couldn't help the blush and giggle that rose from me, but I also couldn't be late.

"I'll make up for it," I promised, slipping away and running into the bedroom to get my shoes. When I ran back in, pulling them on and coming to kiss him goodbye, I nearly fell over when I saw him on one knee, smiling and looking at me like 'I told you so.'

I don't like how itchy the ring feels on my middle finger as I twirl it in thought.

"You don't know what happened," he pleaded, his hands still on me. "If you would just listen to me-"

"The news gave a pretty good description, William. I don't think there's missing pieces in my head, unlike you," I say coldly, detaching from myself so to not have to deal with my emotions. This makes him stiffen, pulling away and resuming his place at the kitchen table, lighting his cigarette and placing the ashtray in front of him like nothing has changed when everything has.

It feels like I'm out of time. Like I've been shoved into a picture of what my life looked like before. Except the house was never this clean, clothes always scattered about. Not just in a fit of passion, we just had bad habits when it came to picking up. Billy would always say the chairs are more decorations then they are seats, anyways. "Why would you use those when you have such a nice seat here?" He'd ask, wiggling his hips and placing his hands behind his head, making me laugh.

Billy never looked so well put together in the house, usually in a wife beater and his hair framing his face. He'd always joked he looked like a dirty hippie around me, and I'd always show him how much I liked that. Not that he looked fantastic now. When we went out he was known for putting in effort. He always had more hair products than me, which I found funny. Though he refused makeup. Once I'd managed to talk him into eyeliner. 'Guyliner' I'd teased. He liked it, but said it should stay between us with a wink before asking where to get dinner. Now he sits before me in clothes obviously stolen to help him look unremarkable, his hair shaggy and uncut, so different from the man I loved.

"Who are you?" I asked him. That man didn't shrink away from accountability.

He sighed, smoke swirling around him as he wipes his face with his hand.

"I don't know. Can't tell if I'm better or worse, to be honest," he admits softly. His eyes look haunted, heavy bags underneath. It's the way his shoulders sag as though his will to go on is slowly draining from him in this very moment that makes me want to break now. Like whatever reason he had for still going was fruitless.

I didn't like the way we mirrored each other like this.

I slowly scuff my feet towards him, tapping my fingers against the back of the wooden chair before pulling it out to sit across from him. It's a start.

"So if you tell me," I say slowly. "Am I going to wish you were dead?"

He doesn't look at me. "I don't know."

Great.

The night is long. Morning comes without an invitation, the blue sky beginning to glow through the shitty blinders I always told Billy we should replace one day. I understand less than when we started, we've both cried more than once, and between our fingers is cigarette stubs and the feeling of each others skin, hands laced together as though another click of an old remote to an outdated TV with batteries you had to rub against your shirt to make work would reveal the smouldering remains of a gas station, displaying the estimated body count and deeming one of us as a devil of the worst kind, ripping us apart.

"Jesus," I say when it's over.

"Yeah," he says. "So, needless to say, my anxiety is shit now."

It isn't funny. It's a tragic statement. But when we both glance into the others eyes, it's his small little smirk that makes me laugh like I haven't since my mother sent me the local news report with his picture covering the front page. The same one that shows everything is still okay.

"I'm sorry," I say. Then the laughing turns into sobbing, and then I can't breathe. And I really am sorry.

I'm sorry I couldn't help him. I'm sorry he went out on a romantic whim and borrowed money he shouldn't have for the ring I was too ashamed to wear on the proper finger. I'm sorry he couldn't come back for me. And I'm sorry for hating him when he showed up unannounced at my door.

"Hey," he says gently, standing and crossing to me, removing his jacket and wrapping it around my shoulders to comfort me. It's unfamiliar, evidence of a life he wouldn't have led if he had just stayed by me and it upsets me, but his lips against my wet cheeks ground me, familiar and soothing me, coaxing me into wrapping my arms around him, clawing my trembling fingers through his hair. Still soft. Still combed.

"You can't stay here," I choke out.

"I know," he says quietly. There's nothing for a long time, our bodies shaking as we cling to each other. In our arms are the unspoken months of grief. Of his longing for our home, of my insanity. Death looms over the furniture, light hidden away lest it take away my sacred treasures I'd used to keep his spirit close to me.

"I can't lose you again," I say.

"I know," he says, smelling my hair and placing a soft kiss on top of my head. "But I can't promise stability if you follow me."

My brows furrow, my mind racing in confusion, my hopes rising. Follow?

"I know a guy," he says quickly, his arms tighter as if scared I'll turn away. "Says he can get me a new identity and a one way ticket to somewhere. I don't know where yet, but it's worth a try."

My fingers trace his back, swirling invisible patterns over his shirt. He'd always liked that after a rough day. I can feel the tension begin to slowly fall away from him at the contact, his breathing growing deeper and more steady. "And you want me to come?"

"Need," he corrects. "I don't regret leaving you, but I can't stay away. Even if it's more kind to let you mourn and find a better life."

A new life. A new identity. New name, new everything.

Maybe I am insane. Maybe this exactly the kind of mental break Billy had that day. Maybe I was doomed to follow his spirit no matter what. Maybe this is a second chance. Maybe God had granted me a mercy I'll never be able to repay, no matter how many night I spend in worship at a church or between this man's legs. Maybe I'd spend every day looking over my shoulder, paranoid and eventually turning cruel to strangers so to keep this one person everyone told me to let go of from the very beginning.

But the same Billy.

"Can he do a marriage license?" I ask after a long silence. I can hear him laugh, pulling away to look at me.

"That eager?" He asks softly, his eyes gentle, thumb stroking my cheek. I lean into his touch, softly placing a kiss on his palm.

▪︎》◇《▪︎

"Well," I say, "I already have the ring."

Masterlist

As cute as this was, please have better standards than the Reader I wrote in this fic. No man is worth that. I am DEADASS. Anyways, love y'all <3

#josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson x you #jhutch #billy burn #billy burn x you #billy burn x reader #billy burn 2019 #burn 2019 #burn movie 2019 #billy x reader

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pedge-stuff · 9 months

Text

island time (pedro pascal x gn/m!reader)

a/n: same vague universe as “marked,“ per usual.

tumblr took this down for sexual content, so naturally, I added more before I re-uploaded.

thanks, as always, for everything.

obligatory warning: light smut, allusions to oral

summary: you bear witness to the annual trip, and... are witnessed bare.

——————————————————————————

The first year, you don’t go. You’ve only been dating four months— trip was already half-planned, and you don’t feel established enough to intrude. Afraid to insert yourself, though P offered several times.

You forget about it, til the planning starts up again. Get a little shy about it, dodge schedule questions at a group dinner. Think on it, overthink it, think maybe he’ll forget it even came up. He asks you again, looking up from his kindle in bed, reading glasses pushed low on his nose.

So you find yourself on an island, in a villa, by the water.

It's not as awkward as you were worried it'd be— you know these people better than you think you do. More the concept of traveling with friends, as a Capital-A Adult, that had you worried. There is a social etiquette that you only kinda understand.

The villa is really a series of small, vaguely connected little cabins. Private rooms with sandy-stone walkways in-between, a kitchen and lounge-type space at the center. Pool and hot tub outside, private beach access.

Travel had stolen most of the day; JFK to Nassau first thing, only slightly hampered by post-holiday congestion, and then a skipper to the more secluded island. (Not private, but you'd yet to see another person around.)

And now, here you are— laying face down on possibly the crispest, cleanest white sheets you've ever seen. In your underwear, lest you touch the bed with the clothes that also touched the terminal seats of JFK.

Pedro is still moving around, passing between the bedroom and bathroom, setting things out from his suitcase. He is methodical about travel and hotel rooms, which makes sense for a man who spends a generous amount of time on the road.

(You are ignoring, at present, the difference in sizes between your suitcases: yours a carry-on, his a checked. Yours with a return ticked to JFK, his to LAX. It has left a bitter pit in your stomach, as the holidays have wound down— the inevitability of your separation, despite the promise of this trip beforehand. On the morning of the 2nd, you will separate for a full three months.)

Hands on your shoulders pulls you out of your brief misery. You are flipped— quite ruthlessly, you think— over onto your back. Above you, Pedro grins. Leans down, giving you only a chaste peck.

"Do you want your toiletries in the bathroom?" He is all business, though he still hovers.

"I want you to take off your nasty airport pants and come here," you gripe. He kisses you again, warmer this time, and you seize your opportunity to latch an arm around his middle, pulling him onto you. (You groan, dramatically, though you always enjoy the firm weight of him. Like a heated, weighted blanket.)

It is hot, late into the afternoon. Even in your underwear, you feel kinda sticky in the humidity. The salt air hangs thick around you.

Pedro slowly shucks off his shirt, and shimmies out of the jeans he insisted on flying in. Only then does he fully commit, rolling backwards into the middle of the bed. He's still rocking a light farmers tan from LA last month, golden biceps attached to pale shoulders.

The urge overtakes you before you can fully process what you're doing. You sink your teeth lightly into the arm closest to you.

"Hey!"

"Mm." A kiss is pressed to the little indent, before you pillow your cheek against it. "Wanna take a little piece of you with me."

The separation— that was the urge. The distant feeling of impending sadness, clashing behind your collarbone against a deep swell of affection.

"Baby," he whispers. Warm lips and bristled whispers brush your forehead.

"Sorry. No sad vacation vibes."

He reaches over, tipping your chin until your lips meet. Holds you there, locked together, and breathes you in for a few long beats before the kiss deepens.

Your turn to be on top; breaking the kiss to prop up on one elbow, splaying your other hand on his waist as you lay kisses to his exposed side. It is languid, easy. Pedro uses your hip to pull you up, closer, so he can redirect your mouth to his for another kiss. You keep shifting, bracing your hands on either side to fully rest on top of him, lightly, joined at the stomach and the mouth.

Mindlessly, rote motion, you roll your hips down. Boxer-on-brief friction. The skin of his chest is salty with sweat and ocean air as you begin to kiss a trail from the corner of his mouth. Spend a moment at the heart-shaped patch in his beard you've grown fond of. A low moan rumbles from Pedro's chest as you bite gently at the hollow of his throat.

"This a thing now?" He says, breathlessly. His hands brace your chest, palms spread across the top of your ribcage. Brush your sides, lightly, where he knows you are sensitive. You exhale sharply into a kiss on his stomach. Move downwards, still. Brush your nose against the faint trail of hair below his navel, lick a small stripe on his belly.

Fingers lace themselves into your hair as you position yourself downwards. Pedro's leg shifts until you are bracketed between his knees, which are splayed open. Just for you.

The moment you tug on the elastic waistband, the moment is shattered.

"Y'all better be decent." Sarah enters abruptly from the glass doors that face the beach, without knocking. You hardly have time to feel embarrassed, sitting up and off of him as fast as possible; hands and lips burning with the sudden loss of contact.

"You've seen me in less," Pedro points out, chest heaving slightly. No effort is made to conceal the evident tent in his boxers.

"Fair point. We started drinking a half hour ago. Be horny later." He flips her the bird, and she flips it back.

Tipping backwards, you land back beside Pedro on the bed. Stare at the ceiling— or rather, thatched roofing— while your mind slowly buffers. Too hot and bothered to register the inevitable shame of being caught like a pair of teenagers.

"Do you..."

A large hand reaches over, palming gently between your thighs.

"They can wait."

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal rpf #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #the last of us #narcos #the mandolorian #din djarin #din djarin x male reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #javier pena #javier pena x reader

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vcgardenia · 2 months

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Luke Castellan x Chrysanthis Green (OC) - Dandelions

wc: 1335

cw: smut, fingering, kissing, making out, pre-canon

a/n: This is my first post on tumblr so enjoy!

“Hey Chrys, can you pass me the other dishes over there?” Luke and Chrysanthis had almost completed washing the dirty plates from lunch that day,

“Cleanup duty is the worst, I swear if I have to step in one more pile of messy food I’m going to lose it.” Chrysanthis dumped the plates into the barrel and took a huge sigh of relief.

“Well demigods aren’t exactly known for their etiquette.” Luke chuckled, “Although the entire point of doing this cleanup is so we have more awareness of the whole, actions have consequences thing.”

“Yeah well it’s clearly not working. I mean who just leaves waste and garbage on the floor? In what world would they think that was okay?” Chrysanthis was fuming. Luke was studying her keenly,

“You’re so cute when you’re angry, you know that? The grass blades beneath your feet shrivel up completely.” He had that smug grin on his face, the one he had been wearing far more often these past few weeks with Chrysanthis.

“Don’t mock me.” She said with sincerity.

“I would never. Come on, I wanna show you something.” Chrysanthis didn’t like the look on his face. Not because she disliked it, but because she didn’t understand it.

“You know I loathe surprises.” She said cautiously.

“Oh I know I know, just follow me.”

He took her away from the mess hall, and out into the forest. After they were relatively deep in the forest Chrysanthis started to complain,

“Okay look,” Luke turned around with that same incomprehensible look on his face, “I don’t know what you’re trying to show me right now but it looks like there nothing he-” she was cut off by Luke cupping her face in his hands and placing a soft kiss on her lips.

After his lips left hers she stared at him, utterly bewildered as to how they had gotten there. All she knew was that her lips were begging for more, so she placed her hands on his shoulders, closed her eyes, and returned the kiss with more force, more need.

Luke stumbled back out of shock but was quickly there to receive her soft lips once more. As the kissing started to intensify Luke let out a short groan, communicating his pleasure. Chrysanthis startled by the noise stepped back and straightened her arms, creating some distance between them,

“Luke I don’t know if we should be doing this…” she let out an exasperated breath, frustrated with herself. Luke took her arms off his shoulders and held them as he moved forward, she promptly moved back until her back ran into a tree. Luke leaned on it and whispered into her ear,

“If you want me to go away and leave you alone just say so. We’ll pretend this never happened, and I swear you’ll never have to be bothered by me again. But Chrys, look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want me to do things to you.” She couldn’t bring herself to do it and she knew it. So she just stared. She stared into his eyes, unable to escape the control they had over her.

After what seemed like forever she felt a hand at the small of her back, even that smallest touch made her wither, and the softest moan escaped her lips. Luke took that as his answer, and he immediately went to work.

He started at her neck, planting as many kisses as he could, trying to lay claim to all of her body. Chrysanthis couldn’t put together sentences, much less words, all she could let out were moans of her satisfaction. Eventually, Luke kissed her lips once more, and he could hear her moans as they entered his mouth, driving him mad with want.

The kiss deepened and Chrys gave him the smallest bit of her tongue to test the waters, Luke, eager to proceed, pushed his tongue down her throat, wanting to feel every inch of her body.

Chrysanthis took hold of his face and slowly pulled them down to the ground. Luke placed himself on his knees so he could be right over her torso, savoring the kiss.

As they continued Chrys wrapped both her legs around one of Luke’s knees, and began grinding against him, wanting to feel a rhythm and some friction in between her thighs. Desperate to please her he moved his leg to the rhythm, and looked at her for assurance.

“Luke, take my pants off.” “Are you sure?” His once smug eyes now looked incredibly submissive, willing to do anything for this moment to last longer.

“I’m sure. Take it all off.” Luke didn’t need another word. He unbuttoned her jeans, and as he slipped them off her legs, he left kisses in between her thighs, wanting to touch and explore more of her.

When he finally got them off of her he began on her underwear, delicately throwing them off to the side. He continued to leave kisses around her thighs, but slowly he came closer and closer to her clit, and the kisses became more sloppy, more rushed.

The second he touched her clit with his tongue she moaned his name, Luke looked up,

“What is it? Did it hurt?”

“No.” She half chuckled, so encapsulated in her ecstasy, “Keep going, please.”

“As you wish my goddess divine.” He began to make circles with his tongue, slowly getting faster and making tighter circles, her moans getting louder and more intense, whenever she said his name, Luke felt as if he had gone to heaven.

All of a sudden Luke stopped. Chrysanthis whined in protest, not wanting to lose her momentum. Luke cupped his hand over her mouth, his head up and attentive. He quickly stared intently into her eyes, “Not a sound.” Right as Chrys took a breath to speak Luke silenced it with a kiss that melted her. After about five minutes of back and forth Luke pulled away, “Okay, they’re gone.” Chrys didn’t care if Zeus himself had found them, she just wanted to keep going.

She took Luke’s right hand and put it on her thigh, giving him a deep look she hoped he would understand. Luke took two of his fingers from his left, and entered her, much to Chrysanthis’ delight. He slowly began to thrust his fingers inside of her, starting out soft and slow to test the grounds.

But as he grew more comfortable with this new area of her body, the more confident he grew in his speed. Chrysanthis’ erotic sighs of pleasure were enough to make him climax, but what he really wanted was her pleasure and satisfaction.

As he continued pounding his fingers inside her vagina, he noticed that the ground she touched was slowly growing dandelions, he knew she was close.

Luke began to whimper and groan the same way Chrysanthis had been doing for him, crying out her name in ecstasy. He bent down and began sucking her neck, leaving a mark between every whimper he performed. “Oh gods Luke, I think I’m coming.” Chrys was almost at her peak, Luke just had to make sure she got there.

Luke thrusted his fingers into her at lightning speed and soon he heard a cry of completion. She collapsed against the tree and panted with the widest smile on her face, looking at Luke with newfound adoration.

Luke lay next to her and put his head on her shoulder, encasing his arms around her, “You are the most amazing demi-god I’ve ever met Chrysanthis.” Luke looked deeply into her forest green eyes, such a beautiful color,

“I love you Luke.” The words came as easily to her as a breath of fresh air. Luke put his hand on her neck and passionately kissed her beautiful, soft lips,

“I love you too.” The ground beneath them flourished with fertility, and as they went in to kiss once more, a dandelion sighed with contentment as a gentle breeze carried away its fluffy seeds.

#luke castellan #luke castellan smut #charlie bushnell #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians

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sexy-n-stressed · 4 months

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Deck the halls (Conner Kent X Male Reader one shot)

A/N: Hi everyone, so, this will be my first post on writing Tumblr, and a bit of a pivot for me. I have a history of writing fanfiction, but have decided to start writing one-shots (and smut….soon…) as I am terrible at committing to full-length stories. This is just a quick story, which I'm planning to follow up with in the next part. Also, it's Christmas for me today so yay fluffy Christmas?

Also, most if not all of my stories will be male readers, as I am a male and want to make stories for people like me who have struggled to find stories like this with male representation. That being said, all gender identities are allowed to interact with my stories, and I may accept female reader requests. So fire away!

Please send me story requests, and follow and comment so I know you're reading! Thank you!

Side note, in my version of things, Conner’s introduction happens like that of young justice but a fair bit later, meaning Dick Grayson is grown etc while Conner is still freshly….minted?

————————————————————

Christmas was a time of snow, cheesy movies and overplayed sellout Christmas albums. And, as Y/N would find out, boys. Specifically Conner Kent.

The holiday had started innocently, with the newest adopted son of Bruce Wayne being invited along to a combined lunch with the Kent family, which was also apparently the family of Superman. Being adopted into a wealthy socialite family was one thing, especially after bouncing around the foster system among families in the Narrows, Gotham's seedy underbelly. Being adopted into the Batfamily was something else entirely.

With the whole new host of Vigilante siblings and father, came an immense amount of pressure to live up to the moral standard they had set. Between attending Galas, etiquette training, crime fighting and fitting into a family of ‘misfit’ angsty superheroes, the chances of failure kept building and it was obvious that everything was doomed to come crashing down.

Lately, you had been missing training sessions, forgetting to show up for the rich socialite events Bruce was forced to attend, even the ones in your own home, which was more of a haunted house anyway.

It was obvious that Bruce was less than happy, disappointed even in your behaviour, though he wouldn't voice it. Having just been adopted into the family meant that everyone was still walking on eggshells around you, not paying you much mind when you both were and weren't present, only engaging in simple small talk. It wasn't necessarily their fault, you had made no real effort to reach out or connect. A side effect of an unstable home life you guessed.

Arriving at the Kent family farm was like a deep breath. There were no looming crystal chandeliers, no extravagant staircases or dining tables and absolutely no overbearing elitists. You felt free among the cutesy knick-knacks and homemade furniture.

“Welcome!” A warm voice beamed as the thick oak door creaked open, laced with a typical southern drawl one would expect around these parts. The voice belonged to Clark’s mother, or ma as she liked to be called. A southern thing you assumed.

As greetings and gifts between the two initially standoffish families took place, a firm hand was pointed in your direction. Quickly shaking it, you remembered to force eye contact with Clark, or, Mr.Kent as you would confusingly call both him and his father for the rest of the gathering, regardless of any request to “Please, call me Clark”

The sturdy man emitted a soothing warmth, both from his comforting personality and from the literal solar warmth the man contained, powering his God-like abilities. It may have been snowing, but the Kent’s felt like a warm sunburst in the backdrop of a picturesque photograph.

Clark made a comment about speaking to you more later in the evening, most likely welcoming you into the family and wider network of connections Bruce held, and swept away to greet his other guests while preparing the most likely gargantuan amount of food about to be consumed.

Eyes sweeping the room, you looked for somebody to strike up a conversation with, both to follow the etiquette training rules of sociability and to escape an awkward, overbearing conversation with the more intense few present, such as Ma Kent. While you held absolutely nothing against the woman, her booming laugh and exaggerated body movements made you almost queasy with nerves.

You weren't waiting long though, as the boy you guessed to be Conner Kent, who you had been told not to ask about his relation to the Kents for some reason, dropped a cartoonishly large crate of apples behind you, with the stragglers rolling off into every direction.

Dropping to the floor, you began helping the boy gather the fallen produce, heaving armfuls of the crisp red apples back into the crate.

He seemed mad, muttering words you assumed to be swears under his breath as he practically threw the apples back into the crate, bruising them.

“At least it wasn’t eggs?” You awkwardly interjected. He stared at you silently, for what felt like an hour, before lightly chuckling.

“What?” The boy stared blankly at you, seemingly not understanding the joke.

“Well because if it was eggs then they would… break, y’know?”

“Oh!” He burst into laughter at the explanation, somehow enjoying the joke.

Still laughing, he stood up, brushing off his knees before extending a hand towards you. “I'm, uh, Conner..”

He subtly cringed as he spoke, stopping himself from saying the word Kent. You understood that all too well, not feeling right calling yourself a Wayne.

“I'm Y/N…” Your avoidance of the word Wayne seemed to strike a cord within him, and the two of you felt instantly closer. Shaking hands with Conner was like playing a thumb war with a gorilla. He seemed to force himself to subdue the intense Kryptonian strength he possessed.

“Thank you for your help” Conner spoke, standing uncomfortably in a way that suggested he was unfamiliar with social interaction. You, on the other hand, were just uncomfortable with it.

“You’re welcome.” came the awkward reply. “Need a hand with that?” gesturing towards the large apple crate. Did you seriously just ask a Kryptonian if they needed help lifting something? You were already blowing this lunch.

“Why would I need a hand? I have two” Conner confusedly responded, looking down at his hands to confirm he did, in fact, have both.

“No, like, help lifting that.” You once again pointed to the apple crate.

“Oh,” He sounded dejected, clearly upset with himself for misinterpreting that.

“No, no it's my fault. That didn't make any sense” you quickly spoke, moving towards Conner and beginning to lift the crate, to which he effortlessly heaved it into the air. You would feel embarrassed if the endearing tensing of his back and arm muscles wasn't completely distracting you.

The two of you walked the crate to the kitchen, as Ma gleefully rubbed her hands together while mumbling about making apple pie better than someone named Dolores ever could. The murderous glint in her eye told you she was not playing about her apple pie.

“Ma really likes her apple pie” Conner explained as you exited the kitchen. He stopped, before turning to you with an excited look.

“Would you like to see my room?”

A/N: Y/N may have W rizz. Also, the formatting of Tumblr is new to me, so if there is anything annoying with how this is laid out, let me know! Pease send Requests too! I'm excited to see what comes in!

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couldawouldashoulda50 · 6 months

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The Distance and the Time Between Us

A/N: So this is my attempt at writing my very first series involving William Nylander.

Overall, it is more or less a “right place, right person, wrong time” type of storyline. The fem reader grew up outside of Toronto and is gifted in all things music. She’s had world-wide success as part of a band as well as a stellar solo career. She’s been bestowed with absolute (perfect) pitch and has been categorized as one of the best singers/musician/songwriters of recent time.

Where it was suitable, I have tried to be accurate with various facts but I will at certain points be changing reality around to aid in the story. I guess that’s the beauty of fiction; you can snap your fingers and make it so, no matter what it is.

Not to sound like I’m accepting an Ocscar, but I wanted to thank @leafs-lover and @spine-buster for interacting so kindly with me as a newcomer to this space, and for reading through the first iterations of my thoughts blurted out onto the page.

Not to beat this to death, but I’m still figuring out Tumblr so hopefully I won’t make a giant mess of things as I post each new segment.

Warnings - allusions to sex, swearing, end of a relationship, I think that’s it

Word Count - 3.8k

----------------------

September, 2021

The end of the evening hits differently than you thought it would.

A few hours ago, up on the bandshell stage with your bandmates, Brandon (the guitarist, alongside you, and vocals), announced to the audience that you and the band were taking a step back from performing, recording and touring. For the past decade (give or take), the band that you co-founded with Brandon had achieved remarkable success along with fame and fortune. You all had far exceeded the low expectations that many had when you began your music careers together.

And it was time….in fact, it was very much overdue.

Personal lives are albeit neglected in order to reach this pinnacle of stardom and for once, you all mutually agreed that it was time to give up the rigours of a touring band and enjoy life. After all, for all that’s been sacrificed, you all deserved it.

The other members, Maebh (bass, vocals) and Colin (drum, vocals), together had their blossoming family to look forward to. Brandon and his partner wanted to pursue other musical interests. There was a sense of excitement, and relief, leaving behind the pressure-cooker lifestyle that your lives had become.

And then there was you.

In one sense, you had been dreaming of this moment for years. Almost complete freedom from all the commitments from both your explosive solo career, and the band from which you emerged. Until now, it had always been one more appearance, one more record, one more song, one more tour, one more interview, one more movie - year after year after year. On the surface, you were one of the most successful and sought-after musical artists of the past 10 years. Coupled with your band’s success, your individual success had been nothing short of magical. The drive and determination you possessed, alongside a bit of luck and (mostly) sensibility propelled you up to and through the insanity of stardom. You always made sure you kept grounded and were full of gratitude, always keeping your humility intact. You had become, in the eyes of the entertainment world, the epitome of grace and etiquette under such scrutiny and pressure.

On the flipside, you have been grappling with an overwhelming sense of despair and an ache deep within that you can almost taste since the moment the band made its decision.

Now that this last performance was in the books (and it was an incredibly successful one at that), you sit in the backseat with your sullen thoughts as your driver navigates the SUV towards your Toronto home. You glance over to your manager, Evelyn, and choke back a sob - your throat constricts and you bite your lip to try and will back the tears that threaten to fall.

Evelyn's typical stoic demeanour softens for a moment, and she grabs your hand; she's well aware of what has gotten you in this state.

You return to staring out the window; your mind replaying what you’ve sacrificed for your career and the fear of the unknown with your future.

The reality is that it's not what you've sacrificed, but whom.

It was when you saw William in the crowd tonight, surrounded by peers, teammates and countless beautiful women, the pit in your stomach formed. You weren't prepared to see him and God, he looked better than anyone should ever be allowed to.

The pit grew as you saw him singing along to the songs sung by your voice.

It grew even more as you saw his eyes fixed on you perform alongside some NHL players and other hockey notables in attendance who came up on stage to sing their favourite songs with you - clearly fueled by the liquid courage that was in abundance at the event.

The pit became virtually unbearable as you saw him laughing and dancing with a beautiful girl that was not looking like anything plutonic. At least not in the way she was clinging onto him.

It was no small feat to get through the rest of the night, performing and interacting with the crowd as effortlessly as you did. Trying not to focus on the thought of him being close enough to breathe the same air as you. If you glanced his way, you forced yourself to dismiss the idea that he was often stealing glances back at you, or the notion that perhaps he might still want you as much as you clearly still wanted him. You became a master at suppressing your feelings in the past and tonight was no exception.

It had been almost two years since you last saw or heard from William.

At the start of September of 2019, you and William found yourselves yet again in a familiar place in life; William beginning another hockey season, single, after he and his girlfriend had parted ways during the summer and you returning to your home town of Toronto to visit loved-ones after a summer of festival performances and travelling.

Your calendar was full with invitations to many high profile events in the city and your attendance always drew quite a crowd. As usual, you were attending all of the events alone which seemed to be mercilessly pointed out by every entertainment news correspondent that lined the red carpet. William would catch a glimpse of you on TV as they showed you arriving at a film festival party or an exclusive restaurant, and soon thereafter, you'd receive a notification from him on your phone.

That is how it always started; a few sweet and flirty text messages, then a couple of phone calls and not long after, you and William would be tangled in the sheets of either your luxurious Toronto home or at his hi-rise condo that boasted an incredible view of the city. It was such a natural and easy existence when you were together. As overly sugary as it might sound to most, your insides felt like there were beams of sunshine that would radiate through your body from the sheer sight of him. Somehow, you always felt calm and at peace in his presence.

Simply put, it always felt incredible spending time with him and it always brought out the best of you. You felt happy and it was very apparent William felt that way too.

However, true to the pattern of the past few years, you would need to leave again, having to depart mid-way through October for an unknown period of time. You had several performances booked throughout Europe, Asia, and Australia followed by more exclusive appearances for royalty and dignitaries around the world. Leaving William throughout the years under these same circumstances only became increasingly difficult, leaving you both heart-sick for a time afterward. Eventually you both would bounce back and resume life without too many broken-hearted thoughts about each other swirling around in your heads.

You and he had often discussed trying a long-distance relationship, only for you to hold firm on your initial refusal. You had always maintained it was not fair to him to have no say or input on when you could see one another. You felt it was too much to ask someone as young as him to have to stand by and watch everyone around him celebrate with their significant others, or be consoled by them, while he has to go it alone. He deserved to be in a relationship where both people were utterly devoted to one another; you desperately wanted to be that person but your contract obligations just kept stacking up against you and those circumstances were out of your control.

Once you had returned to London, sitting alone in the new opulent townhome you had just bought in Knightsbridge, you had made the decision on a dreary November evening in 2019, that it was time you fought for what you wanted; the man you had fallen in love with.

Calculating the time difference, it was nearing dinner time in Toronto on William’s day off. Barely able to contain your excitement, you sent William a text asking him to call you. It wasn't long before your phone rang and the familiar picture of his jersey appeared on the screen. Your excitement quickly dissipated once you answered; it was clear from his low, soft tone that this call was not going to be a happy one.

Before even getting to your reason for wanting to talk, you had asked if he was ok. He paused for a torturously long period of time and said he was not. He explained that it had become too much for him after these past few years to be on this rollercoaster of being lovers (mostly secret lovers at that), for such short moments in time, only to have to watch you leave again and again and never being certain when you’d return. He wanted to be able to give all of himself to another and up until that point, he had quietly kept a part of his heart solely for you. To pour salt into an open wound, he finally added that the level of celebrity you had reached was not something he felt he could handle as the pressure of being inevitably thrust into an even bigger spotlight is not what he wanted in a relationship.

An extreme ache travelled through your body. You felt blindsided. Perhaps it wasn't for the reasons that William rhymed off for wanting to essentially sever ties with you, but more that you had finally succumbed to your deep feelings of love for him and now it was too late. Your heart completely shattered from his words as the visions of your future with him disintegrated into nothingness.

William quietly apologized, his voice barely above a whisper. He said he had to go and hung up, never giving your brain a chance to catch up or for your voice to speak.

Once the call ended, the friendship you had with him ended. In your mind, he became an apparition - nothing more than a figment of your imagination.

The many memories that you had of the two of you together became too much to bear and with that, you clicked into total self-preservation mode. You no longer followed him or his siblings on any social platform. Aside from a select few, you limited your interactions with the Maple Leafs, many of whom you had become friends with over the years along with their significant others. You wouldn’t watch game highlights or check scores - you untethered yourself from anything to do with William.

It was not long after that painful conversation that you heard William and a previous on-again/off-again girlfriend were back together. It was exactly what you expected, which was of little comfort. The heartache you felt was profound and rather than giving yourself time to grieve or heal or whatever you needed to do, you allowed the loss of his existence in your life to harden you. Save from your close friendships and your family, you no longer cared about the love aspect of a normal human life.

Between rehearsals for your tour, you threw yourself into writing music; sitting for hours on end in your state of the art recording studio on the lower level of your home. Up until that point, you had a massive catalogue of songs that, at the very least, uplifted people. The message of your songs had now transitioned to loss. The record execs salivated with each song you presented - dollar bills in their eyes given the huge music market for words rife with longing and regret. Even the accompanying music you created held the same vibe; music that would make the hardest person want to weep. As time went on, your songs were released under the guise of other popular singers. The releases were wildly successful which further catapulted your reputation into the stratosphere, being deemed as one of the most talented songwriters in current time. With all the notoriety, you found it difficult to embrace the new heights in popularity and monetary gain, given that it was all based on the inner turmoil of someone that felt as broken as you did.

There was a domino effect with shutting down the pleasure side of life; your once effervescent personality was replaced with forced smiles and you were noticeably disengaged in conversation. The change in your demeanour didn’t go unnoticed with your circle of friends. Forever begging you to come out before you departed on the first leg of your tour, your friends tried to rally around you, nearly breaking down the double doors to your home to let them in.

Even the rare times you relented and allowed them to drag you to all the exclusive clubs that dotted London’s Soho and other districts close by, you ended up drinking little and leaving early.

Despite how you felt, you always looked exquisite, dressing in elegant attire that perfectly accentuated your shapely figure, and hair and makeup that were magazine worthy. Other than writing and recording music, dressing up was one of the few things that surprisingly made you feel better, even if it was for a fleeting moment.

The good feelings were often chased away as a result of the jeers and catcalling which inevitably started from the snobby and ill-mannered men that occupied space at each club. What these men had in money, from their aristocratic lineage or otherwise, they lacked in every trait you valued. If it didn’t make you feel ill first, it made you seethe with rage with their greasy, vulgar, drunken comments about what they would do to you if they got you alone. After berating them for their tastelessness, and saying apologetic goodbyes to your friends, you would leave to go home. The rage that coursed through your body would then dial down to frustration which would then lead to a pit of sadness.

Washing the night off in your oversized bathtub, you started to sob. Tears streamed down your face forming tributaries along your cheeks to your jawline before dissolving in the hot bath water. You missed William totally and completely. His friendship. His laugh. His face. His touch. The way he felt under you or on top of you. The way he looked so disheveled when he’d first wake up. The taste of his tongue against yours. When he teased you of how badly you suck at every video game you tried. The list of things you missed about William felt endless. You were certain, more than ever now, if you were to ever try to love again, you would have to settle for someone that was a distant second to him. That thought broke you even more.

As the days leading to the end of 2019 grew shorter, and weather more miserable, your mood and thoughts about William changed, seemingly adopting the climate that surrounded you. You started to convince yourself that perhaps the feelings you and he shared weren’t really real; perhaps he had been wheeling you since you met. Your thoughts continued to darken when you realized you were likely nothing more to him than just a convenience when he was in between relationships; he used you like a disposable girlfriend…once you would leave for your next project, he was totally free to move on to someone else. For all you knew, maybe you were amongst a string of girls he was wheeling. It would not be unheard of.

More and more you pieced the puzzle of your own design together. He couldn’t have loved you - even though he admitted that he did when you were in his arms last. Once you had whispered the same to him, it was like floodgates opening with the words “I love you” that flowed effortlessly between you. You told each other every chance you had during that last blip of time together.

You resumed the previous thought. He couldn’t have loved you to only turn around and cut you off the way he did, a mere month later.

Once the tour began, the moment came when you all but discarded the loving feelings you once had for William and forced out the amazing memories. You continued to captivate audiences around the world with your powerful songs and incredible voice. Images and videos of you being celebrated for your beauty and elegance were in continuous rotation on every social media platform. Leading up to award season, your name was on repeat for several music award nominations. You graced a number of red carpet events and attended after parties, always looking ravishing as you engaged in chats with interviewers and stopped to take pictures with other celebrities and onlookers.

Your mind snapped back to reality as the SUV pulled up to and through the security gate of your sprawling Toronto home. You thanked the driver and Evelyn politely asked him to wait for her, and you and Evelyn disappeared into the house.

You stood in the front foyer for a moment, soaking in the fact that this is where you’ll be hanging your hat, both literally and figuratively, until you decide where you truly want to be. As beautiful of a house as you had here in this city, you knew it would take a lot more than an exquisite interior to make it feel like a home. All you wanted was for your home to be filled with love and laughter and family and friends.

“Why don’t you just head straight to bed…you look like you’re ready to collapse” Evelyn said, picking up your small suitcase and walking toward your master bedroom on the main floor.

You ran your hands gently over your face, trying to stimulate enough alertness to respond.

“Very good idea…God, I’m just beyond. I think I may end up sleeping for 2 days straight” you said.

The adrenaline that surges through your body during your performances is a feeling like no other, but you knew the downside to that was utter exhaustion after the fact.

The welcome sight of your large California King bed took hold, and you immediately stripped down to your bra and panties, and slipped between the crisp cotton sheets, pulling the overstuffed duvet up over your shoulders. Evelyn continued bringing in a few more of your belongings into the bedroom, all the while, you could already feel yourself sinking into the mattress and the urge to sleep was taking hold.

“Thank you Evelyn…for everything. I don’t know what it’s going to be like not to see you almost every day”. Your eyes welled up with tears, your throat tight with emotion.

“I’m going to LA, not Mars…all you need to do is call. You just remember - we made an incredible team, and that was just as much you as it was me. Evelyn paused. “You have been such a gift to my life.” and she leaned over to kiss the top of your head.

“Call me soon and let me know how it’s going with your new act” you yawned, and started to drift off.

“Do you want me to turn your phone off?” Knowing the answer already, she didn’t wait for a response….you had fallen asleep already anyway.

Evelyn grabs your phone from the charger and sees text notifications on the lock screen.

Knowing your passcode, she bypasses the biometric prompt and the home screen appears.

Evelyn realized your phone had been on do not disturb for quite some time. She taps the message icon and sees a familiar name as the sender.

The first text is short, sent earlier that night.

Hey - it’s William Hoping to get a chance to talk when you have a min

Then there’s a second text sent a little while after the first:

Are you still here?

Then lastly:

K - well. I hope you’re staying in TO for a bit. Would like to see you.

Evelyn looks over at you, sound asleep, and considers the options.

Ignore the messages, turn off your phone and leave it for you to decide on how to handle it once you’ve got some rest.

Text William back on your behalf to at least let him know you’re home and to try back in a day or two

Wake you up to show you the messages.

Given your current peaceful resting state, and knowing you like virtually no other, Evelyn is aware that waking you up now would only unleash a rabid and maniacal beast - and she wanted no part in that.

Just as she considers shutting the phone off, the words “Incoming Call” appear with “Ny88” underneath.

Evelyn stares at the caller for a moment and then picks up.

“Hello, Y/N’s phone”

“Um - Hi…this is William, a friend of Y/N. I was trying to get a hold of her for a couple of hours…I was just, uh…worried”. William’s voice trails off

“Hi William, it’s Evelyn…not sure if you remember me; we met a few years ago. Y/N’s back home now - sorry, she had her phone on do not disturb. Not sure why.” Evelyn confesses. “But she was knackered and is asleep now….I think you know the drill with her after she comes off after a concert” Evelyn laughs.

“Oh, right - yes…hey Evelyn. Yeah - I remember…she’s down for the count afterwards” William chuckles. “Well, I was hoping to bump into her tonight after the show but it seems like she was surrounded the entire time.”

Evelyn paused, unsure of exactly how much she should convey to William.

“I know it’s been awhile; she would have liked to have seen you, I’m sure.”

There was further silence, and remembering she had a flight to catch, Evelyn tried to speed up the conversation. “Do you want me to leave her a message for her to call you when she wakes up?

“Fuck…that'll be days” William muttered under his breath, suddenly realizing Evelyn may have heard. “Sorry…shit…scratch that, '' he said nervously. "I…I just really was hoping to see her or talk with her tonight, but I guess that's not possible" he said, defeated.

Evelyn looks down at you sleeping. She recalls the car ride home, you flushed and wrought with emotion as the memories you suppressed of William came flooding back. She watched you during the intermissions of tonight's performance hiding away in the dressing area, trying to keep your shit together after seeing William in the crowd. She had seen you at your highest highs over the years when you and William were able to spend time together and at your lowest low after he ended it.

You finally have the time now, she thought - so it's go time…now or fucking never.

"I've got to catch a flight, so I'm leaving straight away. If I give you the security codes to get in, I can trust you that she'll be in good hands, right William?" Evelyn paused before finishing with "Because so help me God William, if I hear of anything to the contrary, you do not want to see my other side."

“I’m leaving now” William says with a rushed tone and hangs up before Evelyn has a chance to respond.

#william nylander #toronto maple leafs #nhl imagine #hockey fic #rock star #musician #right person wrong time #angst #fanfic #nhl fanfiction

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wri0thesley · 15 days

Note

Nat! I know you said you guys didn’t have a registry but I would love to send a little something anyway! You said you wanted to buy a new bed, right? What’s the best way for me to send over a lil wedding gift 👀👀👀💍💒👰?

WAAAA anon that is so so nice of you. haz and i do not get married until april 25th and honestly i do not understand the etiquette of wedding gifts; we asked mostly for cards (exciting!!!! i love a card!) but if we do get some monetary gifts we do indeed desperately need a new bed because ours is BROKEN and my back is eventually going to get tired of being the shape of a tilde whilst i sleep: ~

i WILL give you my paypal.me link (here!) bc dang i do want to get that bed soon and i am shameless but i would like to say that there is absolutely NO PRESSURE EVER to send a little gift of any kind (ESPECIALLY money; if i did have a little amazon registry i would link it but bc we have lived together for so long we have almost everything we need)!

i am personally eternally thankful for the community of people on tumblr i have met who have helped me through my darkest times. our maid of honour is actually someone we met through the old j0succ discord and is flying in from the us and is one of our best friends! i truly do not know where i would be without my silly little tumblr writing blog!

i will probably reblog this once or twice bc a few people asked me about registries n honeyfunds n such (but i read that honeyfund/wedding cashpots online were a SCAM) but again, i would like to reiterate you guys are all my friends and i appreciate every one who has wished us well or asked us abt the wedding or ever even liked my silly posts, and there is no pressure or expectation or anything of the kind ever! ofc if u did we would appreciate it but we also appreciate you guys caring so much about us anyway ;_;

#although on the day of the wedding you guys SHOULD send me congratulations asks.#so i can print them out and put them in our wedding scrapbook gfbnkjgfjnkb #nat.txt #wedding posting

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magz · 4 months

Text

Magz perspective so far. Comparing function alt text and image descriptions on Tumblr, specifically.

Alt text.

Pros:

Discreet. Can open and close image information as needed.

Easy way add information about image.

Often conforms to common screen reader etiquette.

Original purpose is supposed give information of the function of an image (example: "infographic about bird population"), but is compatible with more in-depth image descriptions text so both can be used.

Cons:

If have big text settings (common accommodation for low vision), it not take many words for Tumblr mobile's alt text window to be difficult close or navigate (the close button overflows off-screen), as Tumblr is not well accessible design.

Less guarantee alt text window will conform to a device's text appearance settings.

If an image is deleted by staff, or a blog deactivates n nukes some of the images they uploaded - the original alt text context also disappears.

Image descriptions.

Pros:

Original purpose is for information given about an image is descriptive, as opposed to just functional. Giving more contextual information.

If an image gets deleted or censored on a post, still have the information about what the image was, on the post.

The ID, because of being part of the text post, will often conform to whatever text accessibility settings a user has on their device (unless Tumblr entirely refuses to).

Cons:

The descriptions tend be made vision-centric in choice (example: colors), which not all low vision n blind users would be able relationally get (though some would).

Long descriptions, especially without breaks, can create visual noise (or audio noise in the case of screenreaders) - despite at times being necessary. The information cannot be "collapsed" as needed (besides the automatic long post shortening on dashboards). A limitation of options given to users for posts (no in-text post "accordions", for example).

Everything is pros and cons, and one not inherent better than other. They can both be used for help visual disabilities n visual processing disabilities.

#am dizzy.#text post #accessibility #o post

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jeewrites · 2 months

Text

Hold Fast Sneak Peek | Frankie x f!Reader

Rating: G for the sneak peek, but this blog is 18+ MDNI

Summary: Frankie goes to Pope's Gym for a workout with his bff Pope.

A/N: Wanted to drop a preview bc it's Frankie Friday! The next chapter is coming in around ~4K where we get to know more about reader, meet an OC who maaaay become a love interest for our dear Benny, and a 'lil' situation with the resident gym asshole. Banner image for aesthetics, does not represent the reader. Un-beta'd bc it's a sneak peek y'all.

Word Count: 430

Tags: no y/n, reader is a powerlifting girlie described as short and she has hair long enough to put into a ponytail, Pope owns a gym

“You can quit starin' Fish, she’ll be here at least 2.5 hours. It’s her SBD Day,” Pope ribs. "You text her about dinner yet?"

"Um…" Frankie pauses before choosing deflection. "Uh, what's SBD?"

"Jesus, Fish, it's been over a week," Pope chides.

"I mean, we've texted a bit," Frankie mumbles getting up from the bench and turning to face away from you, one hand cupping his neck.

"Squat, bench, deadlift," Pope responds.

"What?"

"That's what SBD stands for," Pope grunts, laying back on the bench to complete his set.

"She's going to do all three in one workout?!"

"She's planning to compete this year, so yeah," Pope unracks the barbell on his own as Frankie just stands there dumbfounded. He was beat just benching with Pope this morning.

He takes another glance in your direction as you wrestle your knee sleeves on and flop dramatically on the ground when you finish. As other members filtered around your platform, you greeted them like old friends with that warm, beaming smile of yours. Even the super intimidating woman doing tire flips in one corner of the gym broke out a smile when you arrived and waved to her. Frankie had noticed her shirt first, a deep red t-shirt with cut-off sleeves that read "STRONGER IS HARDER TO KILL" in aggressive black text.

He could watch you lift all day. The way you set up for your squat with mechanical precision. Your entire body language changed with a flick of a switch. You could be casually chatting with another person, but as soon as you walked up to the barbell and clicked your belt in place, you were methodical, intentional, focused. When your hands touched the barbell a streak of aggressive energy swirled around you as you swooped under the barbell and set your feet, left foot then right. Two deep breaths and brace. A flick of your ponytail over the bar. Back tight against the bar with an assertive lift-off. Right foot back then left. A brief pause. Then squat. Loading into your lower body with control. Driving up into each rep. Rep after rep. Pause. Re-rack. The switch flicks back when you lever off your belt and you're giggling again about something with someone until your next set. Rinse and repeat. It was fucking hot.

"C'mon Fish, top set," Pope prods, bringing Frankie back from his reverie with a groan. "If you get a move on, maybe we'll finish in time for you to offer your spotting services to her when she gets to her bench."

Frankie hustles.

Taglist: @katareyoudrilling @christinamadsen @rebel-held @littlemisspascal

(Taglist is open if you'd like to join! Also, do people use taglists for sneak peeks? Still bad at tumblr etiquette, lolsob.)

#hold fast a frankie x powerlifting!reader fanfic #sneak peek #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales x f!reader #pedro pascal characters #frankie friday #happy frankie friday

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ashsostrange · 6 months

Text

it’s stand on business o’clock, cz i know y’all sick gw*les & p*nkflower shippers + delulu gwen stans ain’t try to run my girl bree (@breeandhermunches) off her blog… you got me all the way fucked up and ima tag this in ALL the categories. you can’t do anything about it 🤣 if you’re upset, then scroll ho. if you know i’m not talking about you, then have a great day! 🫶 if the shoe fits, then wear it.

i’m getting disrespectful. ima return the energy you hoes dished out n you better take it like some mf champs. y’all wanted to fuck around so now you gotta hear my mouth and find out. read it ‘n weep. clearing you bitches gives me life.

such a shame we’re back here, but y’all are mad, mad miserable. like, i’ve never seen a fandom so chronically online. are you even trying to mask the fact that you rarely step outside anymore…? 😬

let me making it so very clear why i’m making this post in the first place, bc y’all seem to struggle with my main concerns never clicking in your heads.

y’all have the time to sit in somebody’s inbox and complain about their hatred towards fictional ships, meanwhile the people y’all complain about stay on their pages and mind their business? 🤨 those people being US. ion recall none of us going directly to YOUR pages to hate on punkflower and gwiles. if we hate, it’s on our pages. i don’t go looking for a mf fight, that’s mad childish. y’all were riding bree’s dick like crazy. at this point, her hate for gwiles must keep y’all up at night. talk to a therapist about that. it’s not healthy. i’m gna address ALL the bs y’all be on.

so now that you know why i’m posting this, let me set few things straight for y’all.

“don’t use the ship tag to hate! 🤬🤬” the day you copyright and trademark the tag, present me with an official “tumblr etiquette” rule book or, show me proof that you own tumblr is the day i’ll stop. ima do wtv i want whenever i want, please get that thru ya hollow ass heads. y’all aren’t entitled to anything. not respect, not no damn “common courtesy,” ESPECIALLY not over dysfunctional ships/fictional characters 🤣 i don’t owe you SHIT.

some of were y’all tryna go back and forth with me at the grown ass age of TWENTY. over GWILES. a sixteen yr old vs a twenty yr old, see your life 😂😂 it’s truly alarming. go get employed. if you alr are, then call your manager and pick up some more shifts bc you clearly ain’t doing enough. if college graduation rates begin to decline, i know exactly who to come to. everything’s going up and even tho you should be standing on some mf business so you can afford the cost of living, you’re arguing with teenagers online instead. a lot of you have too much free time.

“you posted this publicly under the tag, you can’t expect people not to want to argue” yes i can! block me and scroll. we don’t have to argue. i don’t remember starting an argument? i was never on your pages. i only reblog shit when it appears on my dash. like i said, i’m not searching far n wide for no damn fight. 🤷‍♀️ nobody told y’all to bitch, whine, and reblog mine or bree’s shit. your issue is that you have no self control. you don’t know when to hold yourself tf back, so you feel obligated to reply. god forbid someone has a differing opinion. my post was never even about the flaws in miles and gwen’s relationship. i was talking about how it is disappointing to see miles’ story be reduced to a love story. unfortunately, y’all forgot to put your glasses on beforehand and read “i hate gwiles.” yes, i hate gwiles!!! but that was not the point of my post. y’all are either illiterate or trying to let off some serious steam. i’m not having any of it. maybe y’all are upset i called you delusional, but you’ve effortlessly proven my point.

this is the internet. you have the tools to avoid seeing what me n bree hv to say, so why are you throwing a tantrum like a goddamn child instead of utilizing them?? you’re not special. the world doesn’t revolve around you and what you want. people are dying n you’re worried about a hate post under a ship tag?? mind you, that was the one and only “hate post” i’ve EVER put under that fuckass tag 😭 bree will make one post about gwiles, and y’all are the ones who’ll drag it out, then call her “obsessed.”we’re doomed bc y’all are doomed.

the white mfs complaining ab the term “snow bunny”… jesus 🤦‍♀️ ts didn’t even mean what you think it meant in the first place. it was originally used to refer to female skiers. some of y’all swear up, down, n all around that being “racist” to white people is the same as racism towards black people, and it’s not. let’s use “snow bunny” and the n-word as examples:

snow bunny had an alternative use before it was used to refer to white people. there’s no significant history behind it at all, unless you count tiktok as history. the n word has always been the n word. it’s always been derogatory, and anyone will a brain would know it’s mad history behind the word. it roots in deep hatred. people continue to use this word to belittle those who are black, or use it lightly around their friends nd behind closed doors as if it’s a common cuss word. y’all’s experiences with “racism” are nowhere near comparable to the experiences black people have BEEN facing and will be facing for fucking ever. white people have and always will be seen as the superior race, therefore, you face minimal to no “racism” outside of the internet, and i’d do anything to be able to say that. don’t even @ me talking about “🥹🥹 that doesn’t make racism against white people oka—“ i don’t care. at all. drink some water. you’ll be fine.

“you guys hate women!!!” “y’all hate gwen bc she’s white!!” like, you sound so fkn dumb nd all i can do is sit and stare at you.

me nd bree are black girls. people from EVERY race and EVERY ethnicity hate black people and EVERYONE hates black girls. hell, not even black men like us. why on god’s green mf earth would we ever want sb else to feel that way??

yk what y’all need to do? y’all need to quit whining and accept the fact that bree doesn’t like gwen because of what she did to miles. it’s as simple as that. stop trying to complicate things bc you so desperately want to deem her and other people who hate gwen “racists” or “misogynists.” no. i fw gwen heavy, nd me and bree are able to coexist bc neither of us are fucking delusional and regularly touch grass 🤷‍♀️ same thing with all my other mutuals.

meanwhile, you hoes get your panties in a twist when sb calls gwen a snow bunny as if she’s a sentient being who’s going to cry over ts, like, no. your feelings are hurt? take a fucking walk! nobody has to like her.

and punkflower, oh my god 😐 i’ve never been homophobic and i never will be. i’m literally queer. i’m not about that friendly fire before y’all try and call me homophobic. my thing is, if hobie was originally supposed to be a nineteen year old, n now his age is unconfirmed, why in the hell would we go and age him down to sixteen?? all y’all wna do is ship that man with miles or write smut about him. some of y’all wanna do both!! you change his age when it’s convenient to you. if you don’t see an issue with that, then i can’t help you. you’re weird. until i hear otherwise from one of the directors, he’s 19.

ghostflower or gwiles 🙃 the reason y y’all are sobbing or wtv. i thought y’all were exaggerating when you said gwiles was your religion, but it’s looking like i was very incorrect. real talk, ion like that fuckass ship. i don’t have to and neither does anybody else. just like you lames do with gwen, you dig deep in your ass for every problematic reason possible. “you have a racial bias!!!” “you hate interracial relationships!!” the fuck?? 😭 do you cunts read what you write before you post it?? “they’re more obsessed with gwiles than we are” “they must be in love with ghostflower & gwen”

…huh? covid really set some of y’all back tremendously because it seems a concerning amount of you lack critical thinking skills. in reality, just like hating gwen, the reason we dislike gwen and miles together is SO very simple. it all boils down to the fact that gwen did miles dirt. and i’ve made a separate post, i’ve talked about why they would never work imo. when i present y’all with my logical reasoning, you dgaf! so the only thing you can do now is shut the hell up, unclench, and cope. since you wna get in your feelings bout it, fuck gwiles, n fuck you too.

y’all even got some of your own people agreeing w me, props to y’all btw 👏 it’s never you i’m talking about.

i hate that y’all made it this deep bc it didn’t need to be. this is a fucking movie. none of this is real, yet you continue to harass me and bree like we murdered your immediate + extended family + the family dog that had cancer. i find myself hoping that one day y’all will realize how dumb you sound, but then i remember some of you niggas are already grown, so it’s looking quite improbable.

and also, don’t b up in my reblogs chattin’ it up about shit i’ve explicitly stated that idc about. i won’t repeat myself because you can’t read. if this post hasn’t shown you i don’t give even half of a fuck about you or your feelings regarding ANYTHING at this point in time, then i don’t really know what will 🤷‍♀️

if i made you mad, go ahead nd suck it up fa me. we won’t be going toe to toe and debating on MY blog because you’ll be actively wasting your own time, as i am not willing to hear anyone out. it’s been that way from the start and it won’t change. if you send an anon message or any type of inbox w some bs then it’ll sit there until the end of time or be swiftly deleted. if you reblog this post trying to invalidate anything i just addressed, i won’t even give you the time of day, bc i said everything that needed to said. i was very articulate and extremely clear. know that i can’t and won’t be swayed in the slightest. we’d just go back and forth until you decide to shut your mouth or block me. so block me now. ian the one.

if you don’t get it, then you don’t fucking get it, but what y’all aren’t gna do is treat people the way y’all were treating bree just because she hates two ships + gwen stacy. you complain about how the fandom sucks like you’re not the same people who make being in fandoms in unenjoyable.

you usually have to go to a therapist and pay for reality checks. luckily for y’all, i gave you one for free! you needed to be humbled and i happily did the humbling. lil piece of advice: stop trying to force people to gaf if they clearly do not. block and move on with your life. you gon get tired one day. leave me, bree, n anyone else you bother tf alone. spend your energy trying to change people’s minds on REAL ISSUES that actually matter, not fucking spider-man.

whew, ANYWAY… i hope i never have to speak bout this again. act right in the near future n i won’t have to “invade your tags” with long paragraphs in which i set you fools straight, thank yewww! 🫶

god bless!! 💗

41 notes · View notes

ohbabydollie · 2 days

Note

Also! From what I heard (I came around 40 in schlatt’s last SDMP stream) some delulu ass bitch sent some crazy ass donos/postcards and definitely made schlatt VERY uncomfortable.

Makes me legit wanna send in a postcard apologizing on all of our behalf, cause this shit don’t fly here!

~🍓🍰

i literally can’t watch schlatt’s dsmp stream bc of the post cards and how weirdly parasocial they are

i see this w/the new fans especially, they tend to do weird shit and it’s like where is your etiquette?? would you say that to a stranger face to face??

like it’s so weird to me, i saw a tweet (it was about a cc i won’t name) that op hoped they were a p*do so they could have a chance, not to mention tagging him in the tweet

these new fans need to get their shit tg n realize what they’re saying and doing online is not okay!!!

it’s different for tumblr bc it’s very unlikely that they use/have tumblr and can find the content just out in the open vs sending in a post card and tagging them in a tweet

new fans get ur shit tg and if ur underaged liking a cc, please for the love of god keep your weird thoughts to yourself, don’t actively make everyone uncomfortable by the shit you say

#dollie yaps 🗣️#🍓🍰 anon

12 notes · View notes

eetherealgoddess · 2 days

Note

Can we get another hybird fic?

ꨄOur Pet Humanꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Hybrid Au

❦You’re a human surviving in the world of hybrids❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

❣︎Also, the other bonten members (except mochi) are in this story❣︎

Not fully proofread!

Japanese language is red

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR & AO3 UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Our Pet Human

You ignore the filthy fumes sneaking into your nostrils as you use your hands to dig through the piles of trash lying inside the dumpster. You tear open a bag or two as you go, searching for any kind of food you could get your paws on. You ignore the pain forming in your stomach from the lack of nutrients, sweat falling down your forehead as half of your body is hanging inside the compartment. The last meal you consumed was from the company you were transferred to, auctioned off to the highest bidder just for the cycle to repeat.

At the time you were so focused on escaping that you forgot to think about the long term effects like food supply, shelter, clothing, etc. You snatch the half eaten treat and push against the dumpster until you’re on your feet. You shove the delicacy in your mouth quickly before chewing fast, a few crumbs falling from your face. You wipe your mouth using the back of your wrist. You drop your body to the concrete next to the dumpster, pulling your knees under your chin. You lie your arms across as you lean your head over, face resting against your legs.

You reminisce about the time in which you lived normally when humans were at the top of the hierarchy. Hybrids were a recent creation, only having been a result of an experimentation your species studied. By chance, they were able to manipulate the scientists into believing that they would make the perfect pets. Time went on as the hybrids were bought and sold, mostly by the rich. Once there were plenty out of their cages, they took over by force.

Blood was everywhere as chaos filled the streets. One by one families and individuals who owned the species were slaughtered just as the hybrids figured out their own control system, mimicking the humans idea by selling humans to anyone who’d buy depending on the ‘quality.’ As a human, you could be sold as a pet, servant, maid, heat guide, or even food. You could’ve been sold as anything though after you were caught and switched from country to country, you had enough. You didn’t agree with the idea when humans ruled and you definitely don’t agree with how things are now.

You lift your head slightly before eyeing the bruises and cuts that lathered your arms and legs. There is a medium sized tear on your grimy shirt, displaying some of the marks on your torso. You sigh before brainstorming your next move. Pulled out of your head, you hear footsteps coming near. Your eyes widen as you cover your mouth. You look around swiftly, noticing your lack of escape routes as you use your other arm to tighten the grip around your legs, the feeling of being stuck prominent.

Fuck, why did my stupid ass rest here?

You could only remain stationary as the footsteps grew louder, indicating the close vicinity of the stranger. You make an attempt at making yourself smaller as you scoot closer to the corner where the dumpster and wall meet, your back against the large object as you continue to hold your knees against your chest. You were nervous of the hybrid’s ability to sniff out the prey, hoping that the garbage smell will cover your natural scent.

Your breath hitches as you look straight ahead, the footsteps halting in front of the dumpster, slightly diagonal to where you’re hiding. You hear a low hum before the footsteps return though the sound seems to shrink as a minute passes. You slowly peak from the side of the garbage and eye the figure walking back in the direction they came. You eye his tall torso and broad shoulders, the white leopard printed tail swaying behind him as he slowly strides away, a hand running through his short lilac locks, bringing your attention to the ears that have the same print as his tail.

You release a sigh before turning back into your position, only to release a gasp as sharp blue eyes fill your vision. The pink haired man snatched your arm before you could react, his blonde yet spotted ears falling back as his tail thrashed. His claws pierce your skin which caused a sharp pain to shoot up your arm. He pulls you to eye level as you grimace.

“What do you think you’re doing here, human?” The jaguar says in a language you don’t understand. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you explain, “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

He stares at you for a moment before a grin reaches his expression. The purple suited man drags you along, following the same path as the leopard from before.

You struggle in his grip as he pulls you along seeming to do no damage as he didn’t release his hold. You gasp as he squeezed your wrist painfully. You pull your other arm back and land a fist on his shoulder before aiming at his head, only for him to dodge it and grab your fist, yanking you to fall on your knees in front of him. He released you before grabbing your chin and pulling you forward as he leaned over.

“Behave.” He states in your language, giving you a stern look. His sharp gaze pierced your soul as you suck your teeth in annoyance.

“Then let me go.” You demand. An eyebrow raised on his face as he smirked.

“We’re gonna fix that mouth of yours.” He released your chin before snatching you by the collar and pulling you along once more. You allow him to act this time, not wanting to push your luck and become his next meal. You’re forced to head towards the large building. Once you enter, your orbs meet with purple.

“Hm. I thought I smelled a pesky little vermin.” A sly grin falls upon the familiar male’s face as he observes you. You glare at his insult, planning a retort though another hybrid beat you to it.

“All I smell is garbage. Is that where you found this thing, Sanzu?” The male standing to the right of the short haired man, his ears and tail matching that of the taller male. Purple bangs hover over his eyes as he gives you a blank stare, his hands hidden inside of his pockets. You eye the matching symbol on his neck and guess that the two purple eyed men must be siblings. He turns his attention to the pink haired jaguar after the last sentence, his tail hanging low, twitching at the end.

“I brought a gift for Mikey.” Sanzu gives a pleased smile as he walks to the elevator, continuing to force you along as the brothers follow along.

“Shouldn’t you give it a bath first? I’m curious to see it all cleaned up.” The taller man leaned his back against the wall of the elevator. You could only switch your gaze back and forth as you couldn’t decipher their conversation, giving up and turning away with your own arms crossed. After the shorter leopard pressed a button, you felt the room move upward.

Once you make it to the correct floor, you all walk off once the elevator doors slide open. The hand on your collar moves to one of your wrists as you’re guided to a door at the end of the hall, stumbling behind the three pigmented men. Just as the two brothers walked in, Sanzu halts before making an entrance, glancing at you before pursing his lips and turning around, walking in the opposite direction.

“Where are we going?” You question in confusion. He ignored you as you were dragged once more down the hall and back to the elevator.

Once you reach a floor higher, you’re forced out of the elevator as you take in the surroundings of what seems to be a common area. Once he reaches the bathroom, he places his hands on your shoulders and forces you to sit on the toilet. Just as you were about to question him, he walks out, slamming and locking the door behind him.

After a moment of silence, the lock is turned and a human woman walks in. You watch as she walks to the bathtub, turning the faucet on and setting all the necessities in place.

“H-hey I can bathe myself, you know?” You grasp her attention by tapping her shoulder after you had shot up from your seat. You pause when she turns to look at you with bloodshot eyes.

“P-please, just… j-just allow me to complete my task, Ms.” Her voice trembled as she eyed you with pure terror in her eyes.

You eye her for a moment with bewilderment. You observe the scars and bruises you hadn’t noticed when she first walked in. You know that hybrids are usually terrible when it comes to properly caring for the human species. You snarled as your hands turned to fists. You quietly nod and begin to undress once everything is ready.

She gives you privacy as you climb into the large tub, the suds covering your body as you lean against the back of the surface. Although you wished for a shower, you knew anything was better than wearing the same dirty clothes for any longer.

After the process was over, you were guided to a bedroom. Your eyes widen at the display lying on the bed. A black ruffled collar sat on the comforter as well as a black leash. On closer inspection the collar had a mixture of red and black ruffled lace as well as a red heart hanging as the identification tag.

“No fucking way.” You breathe out. You were upset and angry, not having expected any better from the hybrid species but also missed the sense of freedom you had for a while before getting caught once more. You went through so much just to return being some stupid pet for these abominations.

The woman flinched as you snatched the collar and leash, throwing them to the ground and releasing a few curses. You only stopped when you heard a whimper behind you, thinking you had accidentally scared the fellow human you turn your body around only to be met with an unfamiliar male. Your body jolted in surprise.

The man observes the situation as you return the same gaze, eyeing the tiger tattoo that caught your attention, your eyes moving up to his facial features that consist of a beauty mark right under his eye as well as large golden eyes boring into you. His hair falls down, two blonde strands in front of his face and black locks falling behind, slightly covering the tattoo. You glance at the tiger printed ears at the top of his head. He tsked after waving the woman off and slowly shaking his head, walking towards you, his tail high with a small hook at the end.

“That wasn’t very nice. Don’t you think you should be a little more grateful?” He placed his hands in his pockets as he awaits a response, shifting his gaze to the accessories lying on the floor. He crouched down and grabbed the items, placing them back on the bed.

You couldn’t fully read him. He seems as though he is a laid back guy but considering the reaction the other human had, you knew not to push your luck with your words. You knew it could get you in some trouble.

After silence fills the room, he gently taps his lap as one of his ears that stood up slightly twitched. He gives you a smile as he waits for you to move. You look down where his hand is before glaring at his face. You shook your head. An eyebrow raises as a frown falls on his face, his ears slightly pulled back before returning to their placement.

“What’s your name?” You pause in contemplation before answering.

“Y/n.” He hums as he nods. Suddenly, he seizes your wrist before pulling you on top of him, forcing your knees on each side of his lap as your weight sinks on the bed. You eye him with wide eyes as he gazes up at you, arms snaking around your waist as you're forced in place. Your hands meet his shoulders to steady yourself.

“I don’t want to be mean, Y/n.” He starts off, shifting his attention to the collar and leash before turning back to you. “You see, this kind of behavior is unacceptable.” You hold back a shiver as a cold hand places itself under your shirt and on your lower back.

“I’m giving you a chance to take your punishment like the good girl I know you can be.” One of his hands moves to your chin, claws poking your skin. He gives you a closed eye smile before saying, “So don’t test my patience, okay?”

You didn’t know how to respond, not wanting to conform and also not wanting to test this guy’s boundaries. It was at this moment you realized that you have no clue who these hybrids are and what they’re capable of. You gag on the inside as you obey, nodding in response to let him know you’re listening.

“Awe, you’re already being so good for me.” He beamed while caressing your cheek. “How about I let you off with a warning?” You hold back the disgusted look that wanted to fall on your face, thankful that you weren't going to receive whatever he had in store for you.

He grabs the collar before securing it around your neck, as well as hooking the leash. “My name is Kazutora but you’re gonna call me Master anyway. I just want you to know the difference between me and the others.” He pats your thigh before gently pushing you off of him, your feet connecting to the floor.

He pulls you along by the leash, walking to the elevator and entering once the doors opened. After you reach the designated floor, he pulls you down the familiar hall and to the door that the man you remembered to be ‘Sanzu’ hadn’t allowed you to walk into.

Once you enter, you see a long table in the middle of the room, along with six other men sitting at the table. You couldn’t help but feel intimidated when all the sharp gazes shift to you. The aura of the room was suffocating, your instincts kicking in as your body tightened up. You knew just by the look of everyone in the room, you were amongst some of the most dangerous hybrids.

A platinum haired male released a huff, his ears pressed against his head as well as his tail low though twitching at the end. His fingers meet his temple as he rubs along.

“Do you know how much this thing is going to cost to take care of it?” The cheetah hybrid growled, glaring at the pink haired jaguar who smirked in return.

“It’s not like we don’t have enough money, Koko.”

“That’s not the point.” He hissed, fangs bare as his tail slowly thrashed.

“I think it’ll be good having it around” The older Haitani states as he takes a sip of his glass.

“That’s because you only want to fuck it, you don’t have me fooled.” The man with a scar over his eye chuckled, a cigarette hanging outside of the corner of his mouth. You guessed his relation is somehow with the man with scars on his mouth considering the same pattern they have plastered on their ears and tail.

“So what, Takeomi? What else is it good for besides a heat guide?” The younger Haitani questions, one ear flat as the other sticks up as well as his cheek leaning on the palm of his hand. As everyone converses, Kazutora pulls you along to awkwardly stand next to his seat as he sits down at the table.

“It doesn’t matter what any of you think. It’s up to our boss.” The great dane says, a stern look on his face as he sits with a leg crossed over the other. His arms are crossed as he leans against the back of the chair, his black tail still as his ears hang from his head. His heterochromia eyes slanted as a look of irritation crossed his face. Once the boss was mentioned, everyone except you shifted their gaze to the white haired lion that sat at the end of the table.

You had no clue what was going on, having not understood a word though only understanding everyone’s tense body language when you followed their gazes to a short man with dark eyes. He stares ahead as you observe his features, his ears sticking straight up, though from your angle you couldn’t see his tail. Finally, his dark orbs meet yours, catching you off guard and forcing you to look away considering the eye contact.

Before he says anything, the door swings open, revealing a random man who resembles the features of a bear and the human woman you met earlier dragged in by the bicep. You watch with your eyebrows furrowed as he tossed her into the room, her hands stopping her face from meeting the floor followed along with a grunt.

He stood back against the door with his arms crossed as he eyed the situation, awaiting instructions. She trembles against the floor, looking back and forth between the men and you in fear. A look of confusion crossed your face as you watched the display.

“Ran.” The lion says, nodding over to the woman. A smile crossed the tall leopard’s face as his ears and tail perked up.

“Yes, sir.” He says, standing from his seat as an object in his hand is revealed. You eye the silver weapon that seems to get longer after he flicks his wrist.

“N-no, please! I-I’m sorry!” The woman cries out, crawling back as she cowers down. You gasp as the realization clicks on what he’s about to do with the baton.

You make an attempt to run towards her shaking figure, only to be reminded of the collar around your neck as Kazutora yanks your leash back.

“Sit.” He yanks once more, a harsher tug that forces you to fall backwards on your derrière.

“Fuck!” You hiss in pain only for a stinging sensation on your cheek to appear as your head is forced the opposite way. A hand on your chin pulls your face towards his as he leans over in his chair.

“I should hear no bad words coming from that mouth.” He gives you a bored look before returning his gaze to the display. You pant as you look over at the human woman in concern.

“P-please don’t do thi-!” A loud crack echoed throughout the room, followed by another and another along with the woman’s grunts. You stare wide eyed as his arm pulls back before slamming down on the woman’s back. She limps to the ground, barely awake as her body twitches. You watch as blood leaks out of her mouth, oozing on the floor as her head lies down.

He lands another harsh hit to her back using both hands on the handle before landing another once more. Your own hands shake as they reach your ears once you shut your eyes tightly. You hope that it’ll be over soon, though you don’t know if she’ll survive. With a last resounding crack, the purple eyed man finally stops his assault and steps back. He flips the body using his foot though she only fell back into place, the side of her face against the floor as her stomach is attached to the ground.

Just as you opened your eyes and removed your hands, you gaze at her lifeless form. A looming darkness hovers over you as your stomach feels itself drop, bringing your knees to your chest as a few tears begin to fall. Your lip quivers as you observe her still body.

To think that I saw her only just a while ago alive and walking.

Footsteps could be heard in the quiet room, the lion stepping forth and halting when he stood next to the corpse. He crouched down, grabbing the collar of her shirt and standing up, her body hanging from his hold. The platinum haired male shifted his gaze to you.

“Let this be a lesson, Y/n.” You glared when he dropped the body and walked to his seat.

“Dismissed.”

You stared at the bowl sitting on the floor from where you sat in the dining room of their shared penthouse. It was supposed to be a full human meal but resembled the containers of wet food you’d get for your regular cats you had before the take over. This was a common way for hybrids to feed their humans. It depends on the owner whether or not you’re allowed to eat with your hands.

“Why are you not eating, Y/n?” Ran questions from where he sits on the chair next to you. Looking up at him and back to the bowl, you frowned.

“I can’t eat like this.” In fact, you never had to before. When you were with the initial abductors they would just throw a bowl in the cages but wouldn’t stay to watch so you’d just eat with your hands like a normal human.

“You’re lucky to be fed at all.” Rin rolled his eyes as he grabbed your bowl.

Ran tsked before leaning over, catching you off guard and pulling your body onto his lap. Rin passed the bowl to his brother and leaned back in his seat, using a lighter to burn the end of a blunt before setting it to his mouth.

You look at Ran with wide eyes as you shift uncomfortably on his lap. His chest rumbled from his deep chuckle.

“Don’t be so rude, brother. The kitty only wanted to be fed.” Your face heats up in embarrassment.

“That’s far from what I wanted!” A harsh smack on your thigh caused you to wince.

“Do we need to buy a muzzle for it?” Rin questioned as he pulls another hit before blowing the smoke out in your direction.

“That wouldn’t be a terrible idea.” Ran says as he uses chopsticks to pick up a piece of your food, bringing it to your lips.You hesitate out of pride, turning your head in the process as you couldn’t shake the feeling of humiliation.

“Should I use my baton?” Ran questions you. The memory of what the woman went through earlier crossed your mind, causing a shiver to slither up your spine before you parted your lips. Bringing his chopsticks to your lips once more, you opened your mouth wider to give better access before closing your lips around the utensil.

It had been a few weeks since you were taken in by Bonten as a pet. You lie still as you eye the ceiling, laying on your designated palette next to Mikey’s bed. Although you were able to adapt, you still couldn’t get used to their unpredictable and violent ways. At least you knew what you were getting when you were at the company before.

The contrast between some of their treatment and punishments were unsettling. Not to mention how demeaning it is to be treated as some animal when only just a few years back you lived a normal life. You look down and eye the fresh marks on your skin, remembering the baton making contact with your dermis as well as Sanzu using his katana. Kazutora usually spanks you and you’d think it wouldn’t be so bad, yet his hand uses so much force that it’s actually quite painful and makes it hard to sit for long periods of time.

Rin finds various ways to discipline you such as forcing you to kneel in rice, popping a joint or two out of place before popping it back, etc. You haven’t angered Mikey yet and fortunately the others leave you be so you don’t see them much at all.

“Y/n.” A voice took you out of your thoughts and caused you to eye the bed. “Come.”

Your eyebrows furrow at the demand. You’ve never been allowed in anyone’s bed up until this point so the command threw you in for a loop. Slowly sitting up, you picked yourself off of the floor and climbed on the bed, your own eyes meeting closed lids before you’re pulled into an embrace.

Your back meets Mikey’s chest as you both lay fetal position, him spooning you. You could only stare wide eyed across from where you lay when you felt a rumble, hearing a pur near your ear as his tail wraps around your thigh. Time passed before you both fell into a deep slumber, creating the unsaid habit as the cycle repeats.

A few months pass and a new human gets hired as one of the staff who are used to clean, cook, and complete the everyday tasks at hand. Because the majority of hybrids you were around, there were very few humans. Having been exhausted with your circumstances, you became a close friend to the new guy, creating a bond that you haven’t felt in a long time. Whenever the ‘masters’ would go on a mission, you’d be left on your lonesome until you would untie yourself from the post and leave your spot.

You would search for your friend, Eiichi until you found him and would help the male clean faster so you both could hang out as normal people, something neither of you had done in a long time. You began to spend so much time together that you would find yourself smiling at nothing whenever he was away, having to explain yourself as a result of your odd behavior, usually coming up with a lie.

You enjoyed each other’s company so much that you decided to brainstorm an escape plan together, ready to escape this world and live off grid. It was wishful thinking but the sooner you left this penthouse, the better. As you both leaned over the counter, caught the other’s eye as you stared for a moment. It had been a while since you had received genuine care from another human being. The gap in between both of you almost came to a close until you were yanked back by the collar of your shirt.

“So dirty.” The jaguar hissed before quickly stabbing Eiichi’s hand against the counter using a dagger. The human male yells out in pain as you’re grabbed by the neck and lifted from the floor. Rin’s eyes narrow as a smile appears on his face along with his ears flat against his head. His tail thrashes around violently.

“I just needed an excuse to go harder on you.” He says as you struggle to unwrap the fingers that are blocking your airway. Your feet dangle in the air as you hear another blood curdling shriek from Eiichi as Sanzu twists the weapon in the wound while glaring at the weaker man.

“Who said you can touch what belongs to Bonten, you fucking rat?” Sanzu growled before his claws protruded, pulling his arm back and slicing through Eiichi’s back.

Eiichi released a howl of agony as he leaned over the counter, his other fist connecting to the surface as his own nails dug into the palm of his trembling hand. Tears stream down his face as he looks up in your direction.

“L-let her go!” He grunts, his head hovering over his bloody hand. You struggle harder and you lose more air, your vision blurring out gradually as your body weakens.

“Since when did you call the shots?” Rin questions before he walks to where he’s standing across from Eiichi in a closer space. He released your neck, allowing you to drop. He snatches your waist before you could fully fall on the ground, coughing and chasing your breath. He eyes Eiichi before grabbing your chin harshly and forcing your lips to meet his. Your eyes widen as Rin’s other hand wraps around your bruised neck once more though to pull you into the kiss closer.

Once he was finished roughly kissing your lips, he moved the hand on your neck to the back of your head and wrapped the other arm around your waist, moving his head down your neck as you quietly pant while avoiding eye contact with the other men. You would’ve bit him if it wasn’t risking your life. His lips leave a tingling sensation to linger on each spot of your skin his mouth assaults. He stares Eiichi in the eyes the entire time, who could only stare back in agony and anger.

“See that?” Sanzu whispers near Eiichi’s ear. “See how she's taking it?”

When the human didn’t respond, Sanzu twisted the dagger once more before snatching it out, causing a drawn out grunt to leave Eiichi’s lips. You try to pull back but Rin’s hold was painfully tight.

“Answer me.” He hissed, his ears falling back as his tail mocked Rin’s thrashing. Eiichi nods violently, followed by a desperate, “Yes!”

“What’s going on here?” A voice came from the elevator, Ran walking in as well as Kazutora walking behind with their ears perked up. They had on amused expressions, staring at the display as they walked towards the busy executives.

“Tell em.” Rin demands looking into your eyes while your noses almost meet, pulling you back just enough to shift your gaze to the tiger and leopard.

“W-we were gonna kiss.” You say softly, nervous of the reactions considering how the first two executives responded. Kazutora sighs as Ran walks to the other side of you, opposite of his brother.

“Awe, kitty if you just wanted a kiss why didn’t you say so?” He cooed before leaning over and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I thought you were a good girl, Y/n.” Kazutora frowns before crossing his arms and walking around the counter to where Eiichi is leaning over.

He uses one hand to grip the back of Eiichi’s collar before pulling his arm back and landing a bone crunching punch on his face, causing the poor human to fall over on the floor, blood splattering everywhere. You gasp as you yell his name before Ran wraps a hand half way under your chin and neck and forces you to look up, your head resting on his chest as he looks down at you.

“All you have to do is ask, Y/n. I don’t mind being the human touch you need.” He chuckled as Sanzu and Kazutora took turns beating and kicking Eiichi. A fist connects with his face as a foot connects with his stomach and so on. The floor is a bloody mess as well as the granite counter.

“Stop fucking hurting him!” You push against Rin’s chest as Ran releases your neck. Suddenly the room goes quiet as a new set of footsteps could be heard entering the room.

The lion eases into the room with a blank look on his face, pondering the display as he motions for everyone to follow. Everyone begins to move towards their boss, you turning around to try and check on Eiichi, only to see Kazutora use Sanzu’s dagger to puncture it through Eiichi’s back. You gasp as you try to break free of the Haitani brother’s hold.

“N-no!” You shriek as tears stream down your face, Rin picking you up in the process and throwing you over his shoulder to force you along.

You all walk onto a large bedroom, one that you haven't seen before. Before you could get a good look, you were tossed on the bed. Mikey took his seat on one of the accented sofas across from the bed. Everyone else stood at attention while waiting for instructions. You made poor attempts to prevent yourself from crying considering the only human friend you had just got murdered by your recklessness.

“Since you found her, do what you will.” Your eyes widen at Mikey’s statement. Before you could react, you felt arms wrap around your waist before you’re pulled in between someone’s legs from behind, sliding you against their chest.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment, Kitty.” Ran whispers before he places kisses against your ear. The rumbling in his chest is evident of a pur causing you to jolt and try to remove his arms, only to get distracted by a force on your chin. Sanzu lowers his face, meeting his lips with yours as he kisses you passionately. His head slightly moves along with his lips as you feel a hand sneaking under your shirt.

Kazutora’s hand slithers up your stomach, using his fingers to caress your healing scars before slowly making his way to one of your breasts, all the while gazing at your face. You feel a squeeze on your thigh by Rin before he slides up to meet your core, only for you to move your legs and close his hand in between your thighs. You yank your head back from Sanzu.

“N-no! Eiichi!” You hear a couple of huffs before Rin tears your legs apart, Kazutora locking one in place with his arm. The older Haitani slides his hand down your thigh before diving into your pants. Sanzu moves a hand to lift your shirt slightly and places his hand on your other breast. You feel a finger sliding against your clit through your panties. It felt so conflicting to be horrified for your own safety, as well as mourning a death all the while feeling a sense of pleasure from the culprits who caused your pain in the first place. You truly didn’t know how to respond besides failing miserably at struggling against their holds.

One of the hands on your breasts disappears just as Sanzu reaches in his pocket. Pulling out a small baggie with a pink pill, he pours it in the palm of his hand before bending over on the nightstand and crushing half of it. He placed one on his tongue before grabbing your chin once more.

“Open up.” He squeezes your cheeks harshly to force your jaw open. He sets the last piece on his tongue before leaning over and connecting the slightly dissolved pill with your own tongue. Tightening his grip, he pulled you forward.

“Swallow it.” He released his tight grasp once you complied. A few minutes pass as they continue their groping, your body feeling the same as before until you begin to feel heavy. You could feel yourself leaning more against Ran as your body falls back.

“There ya go, kitty. Just relax.” His raspy voice purrs along with his finger making slow yet firm circles around your nub. A wet substance slowly oozes out of your vagina as the stimulation causes you to moan quietly. You lean your head back against his chest as sweat beads around the lining of your forehead.

“E-Eiichi…” You whine out as the memories overcome your mind, the drug in your system causing you to feel as though you’re flying through your mind, reliving the moment as tears begin to stream down your face.

“Hey.” You hear a soft voice as a palm covers your cheek, gently forcing you to make eye contact with Kazutora.

“Focus on me.” He all but whispers before he leans in, latching his mouth to yours as his lips move against yours. Feeling drowsy and drawn in, you return the gesture, lost in a trance and only focusing on him. The softness felt really nice against your own lips, the drug intensifying the motion. His thumb caressed your cheek as a purr rumbled from his chest. His claw lightly grazing your skin caused a shiver throughout your body.

You were so focused on the moment with Kazutora that you hadn’t noticed how Rin pulled your pants off or how Sanzu ripped your shirt and even pulled your arms out of your sleeves. You hadn’t realized that you were bare chested and only covered up with a pair of lace panties Kokonoi bought. It wasn’t until you felt movement against your clit once more, as well as something wet against one of your nipples.

Ran switched to rolling your other nipple between his index and thumb causing a shock throughout your body as you felt the pressure build from Rin intricately using his thumb to rub along your clit through your panties, his other hand spreading your left fold to gain better access, and Sanzu flicking his tongue against your nipple while holding it firmly, closing his lips around to give little sensitive pecks as well as sucking the bud.

It was overwhelming. Focused solely on their touches, you hadn’t heard your own moaning. You felt pathetic, coming undone and vulnerability revealed to all these beasts who treat you as though you're below them. It’s embarrassing. Your high made it all the more worse as you began to get distracted with your thoughts causing a bittersweet feeling to take on considering all the hands on you. The movement on your clit halts as a weight on the bed disappears for a moment.

“I’m going to try something.” Rin says as he walks from the nightstand to the bed, your half lidded gaze eyeing the suction vibrator in his hand once Kazutora released your face. Rin sets the object down before removing your panties, getting into position.

“Kinky.” Ran smirked, licking behind the rim of your ear before Rin pulled your body down slightly.

“Alright, Bunny open wide!” Rin beams with a closed eyed mischievous smile.

Kazutora and Sanzu take it upon themselves to pull your legs open wider. Rin leans into position before he presses the button until it reaches a medium setting. Using his index and thumb, he spreads your labia before setting the circular end around your clit. Your body immediately tensed, your hips lifted as your head fell back. You bite your lip as your hands grip Ran’s thighs.

“Damn, that’s so hot.” Rin breathes out, watching more juice flowing out of your vagina.

Mikey felt a tightness in his pants as he sat manspread while leaned back. His hand slowly slides over his own thigh before he palms his bulge, tightening his grip just enough to add a painless pressure to ease his throbbing erection. The whole display of you sprawled out naked between his men while responding to the sensual acts in such a filthy manner is enticingly sweet to his mesmerized yet tired gaze.

Rin removes the vibrator to allow you a small moment of relief, your breathing hard as you pant, limbs trembling. You watch as he turns the setting higher, shaking your head.

“No, no, no! Wait!” He ignored you and set the buzzing end back around your swollen bud. The buzzing sensation connecting with your clit could only be explained as an electrifying stimulation. It’s so intense that your body freezes as your hips lift once more, your nails digging through the fabric covering Ran’s skin as you grunt. Just as you thought it couldn’t get any more intense, the tiger and jaguar hybrids leaned over and latched their tongues against your nipples.

The drug heightened your sensitivity so you could barely think properly, your hips beginning to grind against the toy causing your clit to rub against the inside of the puckered end harder considering Rin moves the vibrator with your motion, meeting the base of your clit with the end of the opening.

“So fucking filthy.” Sanzu hissed after releasing your nipple.

“My king, can I?” His attention shifts to Mikey, awaiting permission to proceed with his request.

“You and Rin.” Mikey states considering they were the two who found her having escaped the bedroom and almost kissing Eiichi.

Ran and Kazutora groan before they pull themselves away from you. Their cocks are throbbing tight against their pants and they’re ready to feel your warmth engulfing them. It’s frustrating but at least it’ll be their turn at some point tonight.

Your body drops back on the bed as Rin removes the vibrator, edging you before setting it on the nightstand. Sanzu repositions you to where he’s lying under you, positioning his cock to your wet entrance. Lifting his hips, he used his hands to guide your hips down, your pussy slowly engulfing his thick girth, both of you releasing a moan as the head reached the g-spot as your thighs hit the base of his erection. The drug felt like an aphrodisiac, making everything feel ten times more intense though you knew that wasn’t its purpose.

He guides you to buck your hips against him slowly so you could adjust to his size to make everything easier. He pressed a hand against your upper back, pulling you to press your breasts against his chest. His legs spread under you, making space for Rin to crouch above you from behind. He rubbed the lube between his fingers against his cock, having already prepared while you and Sanzu became adjusted. You felt a firm pressure entering you from behind, your eyebrows furrowing as you grunt in pain.

“N-no! Take it out! I-it hurts!” You cry out, tears streaming down your face as you angrily fist Sanzu’s chest.

“Shh. Shhh.” He grabbed the back of your hand and placed it against his neck.

“Squeeze when you feel pain.” Your fingers wrapped snugly around his throat. You hadn’t wanted to comply, but the pain was so uncomfortable that you tighten your grip around his neck with a scrunched nose.

“Fuck.” He moans as a red hue appears on his face, his lips apart as his eyes flutter shut. He bit his lip right before thrusting into you deeper. His blue orbs bore into you with a glimmer in his eyes, his claws piercing the skin on your thighs.

His hips lifting caused a contrast between pleasure and pain. Rin pushes deeper as the pain of your tightness eases for him. He groaned before leaning over more and balancing himself against the bed. His hips move back before they push forward, repeating the process as his cock rubbed against your anal walls, creating a stinging fullness that added to the girthy cock inside of your pussy, rubbing along your vaginal walls as well as firmly kissing your cervix.

Your mouth hung open as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, using your legs to help push against their thrusts. Curses, moans, and whimpers echoed throughout the room as well as the rocking of the bed. The men on the side had their own hand wrapped around their cock, leaking because of the display in front of them.

The smacking of skin increases as they speed upthe pace, forming harsher thrusts as they all bring themselves closer to the edge. You couldn’t focus on anything but feeling full and being surrounded by breathy sounds of pleasure. Your eyebrows furrowed as the pit in your stomach rises, biting your lip as you all rutt harder against each other.

“Shit.” Kazutora hissed as his hand reached the base of his cock before pulling his hand around the head and focusing on the stimulation at the tip of his erection.

Ran’s hair falls on his face from sweat, his head lowered with his mouth parted as he rubs his closed hand against his throbbing length. He repeats the motion at a steady pace before speeding the process. Mikey has one hand flat on the base of his cock while the other one grips his girth, rubbing up and down but in a circular motion at a slower pace.

Finally reaching your peak, you felt the rise fall as your body convulsed, orgasming hard as a loud moan left your mouth. The men follow not long after, their loads releasing as they press themselves deep inside you before riding out their orgasms, moaning near your ears as they breathe heavily.

The men on the sidelines shot ropes as their own bodies tensed, rubbing out their orgasms as they made a mess on their own pants. Curses could be heard throughout the room as they finished up, their cocks re - erecting not long after.

“Y/n.” Mikey says as he pants. “Come clean me up.”

The night continued on as you had orgasm after orgasm from the men taking their turns with your body. The night was heavenly for your fix in the moment, lapping up the attention and pleasure desperately. It wasn’t until your collar was hooked around your neck, followed with a cuff on your ankle that you realized the reality of your placement here. It reminded you of how much of a worthless animal you are to them.

Who knew that one night of passion could turn into multiple nights of you becoming some drugged up sex toy for their own pleasure. Their heats were the worst, becoming so rough with you as if they’re releasing their pent up rage. You couldn’t stop thinking of Eiichi. The way he made you feel normal again and the haunting memory of how he died. You found yourself more and more depressed and eager for a chance of true release.

A year passed and there was a night where you found out about a type of drug from one of the human staff members. It used to be a legal medication specifically made for cat hybrids to consume and become less aggressive and more docile. It also helped them fall asleep faster. Whenever you received the medication, you gave it to the human cook you became friends with who dropped a pill in each of their drinks during dinner before they made it back.

When they consumed the drug, it was quite entertaining. You sat on the couch in the living room instead of the floor while Mikey rubbed his face against your neck as he straddled you, nuzzling against your skin with his ears forward. Sanzu sat beside you sniffing the opposite side of your neck, ears straight up as he licks the skin. You feel Kazutora nuzzling against one of your legs with his arms wrapped around the limb. Ran is knocked out next to you, sleeping in a fetal position with his feet closest to you, tail lying over his own hip. Rin sits with his legs wrapped around your other leg while licking the skin on the back of his hand, grooming himself.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at their clinginess though when you realized your reality you began to think that there was nothing funny about this situation. You called one of their oblivious guards, who thought they just took a new drug they had provided themselves, to walk in to help you remove themselves so everyone can go to bed. When the hybrid snake tried to grab your arm, Mikey’s eyes sharpened before he hissed and used his claws to scratch the snake’s face. His tail rattled in response as he hissed in pain, his hands holding his bloody face as you eye the display in bewilderment.

This will definitely make it easier to escape.

Ran woke up from the commotion just as all of the cats bared their fangs ready to attack as their tails thrashed and ears flattened on their heads. Narrowing their eyes they all dash away from their spots, pouncing on the guard as he yells out in pain. You eye the display but don’t bother to help, waiting patiently as they finish though you look away from the disturbing scene and cover your ears. After they slaughter the man to death, they sleepily walk away, walking with you as you guide them to each of their bedrooms.

After all was done, they were knocked out cold from the drug. You gathered a random bag with necessities and threw the collar you had set on the nightstand in a trash can. You climbed out from the back of the first story’s window, beginning the journey to your new life.

The next day came crashing for the men, Sanzu being the first to know of your absence. Chaos reigned throughout the morning meeting as they took their rage out on irrelevant staff members and guards, wreaking havoc on those who let you slip from their radar. The other executives only stared at the display with blank looks as they watched, only thinking about their next move to find you for the sake of their boss’s and fellow executives’ sanity.

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