#it's like objectively bad and distasteful

[asilentguardian]

the batfamily could probably make (even more of) a fortune with their lives being a soap opera or a reality TV show.

They've probably had many, many offers over the years for a reality TV show. Bruce's PR manager practically begs him to do it. He refuses, but there isn't much he can do about the soap opera that is "not based on anyone in particular" and features the "Rayne Family" and they're extremely dramatic relationships and story lines.

[livinginshambles]

No, you listen to me | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Aftermath of when you ran away from the Yule ball, cinderella style. after the Christmas holidays, both of you return to hogwarts with different objectives. James tries to find out who you are. You try to make sure he never will.

Notes: Not proofread. Mistakes. Once again because people keep forgetting, english is my third language, be kind. Themes of bullying, discrimination, very bad sister relationships. Regulus is like a BROTHER. James tries?

Masterlist Part one. Part three

_________________________

Your eyes scanned across the parchment, rereading James’ apology, but all you could really feel was disappointment and anger. What was even the point of trying to prove anyone wrong? You leaned back against the cushions of the armchair and pulled your knees up, wrapping your arms around them to steadily lock them in place. Then you let your head drop.

You pressed your watering eyes into your knee, effectively letting your pajama pants soak up any tears that threatened to fall. You gently rocked yourself back and forth while you tried to clear your mind. You wouldn’t let any of this get to you.

A hand pressed itself to your back, right between your shoulder blades. “Let’s get you out of here,” Regulus spoke up. His tone was hard, but only because of his clenched jaw when he thought back to how you had run off with a betrayed look. The second he realized it was James who was the mystery guy, he had kept a close eye. He knew things wouldn’t end well with those prejudiced twats, and he was right.

You pathetically looked up at him, and Regulus didn’t bother to hide his grimace at the sight of your face.

“Don’t exaggerate you arse,” you mumbled and shoved him light-heartedly.

“Back at you,” Regulus shot back. Then he sighed and motioned for you to scootch over so he could squeeze himself to fit in the armchair with you. “I know you. And I know you know what my brother and his friends are like. Why are you so disappointed?”

You stared at the lit fireplace, lost in thoughts, and eventually shrugged when Regulus nudged you out of your train of thoughts.

“I guess- I really liked the guy on the other side of the paper. And I really hoped that maybe he’d be in there somewhere. And I suppose that for a moment I actually thought James Potter was alright, you know?”

Regulus scrunched his nose in distaste. “Not at all, but go on.”

You shook your head in amusement at him, but let your eyes soften. “I’m sorry Reg,” you whispered.

“What for?”

“Making you listen to me whining about a guy that I know you have personal issues with.” You decided not to mention out loud the fact that those personal issues included the way Sirius had left Regulus behind in that household, escaping to live with the Potters and going as far as publicly calling James his true brother. Found family, he had proudly said.

Regulus knew what you were referring to. He smiled bitterly. “Well, brothers are overrated anyways. I’d much rather have a sister,” he said while nudging you again.

You hummed in contemplation. “I don’t know Reg; I’ll have to disagree with you on this one. I’d much rather have a brother than any number of sisters.”

“How convenient for us.”

“Very convenient indeed,” you smiled happily.

Regulus got up suddenly and turned to you with a stretched out hand. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I meant what I said, you know. Let’s get you out of here. I do recall you promising me tea at your new apartment.” He looked at his pocket watch. “Well, it’s 5 o’clock in the morning, and the first train leaves at 6. What’s the difference between leaving in the evening or right now.”

“You absolute champ.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

You laugh whole-heartedly and stuff the parchment in your transfigurations book. You and Regulus took the first train and left Hogwarts behind for the Christmas holidays. A break would do you good. Godric knows you needed to get James off your mind.

James carefully placed the glass slippers in his suitcase and covered them with a few sweaters just in case. He had caught the elves recklessly throwing suitcases into the storage compartment of the Hogwarts express before. You’d think that the use of magic would come in handy for tasks like this, but no.

“Prongs, I got you this?” Sirius pushed a sheet of bubble wrap into James’ arms. James offered Sirius an appreciative look.

After thoroughly explaining everything, from the moment when he found the parchment, to who you were and why he decided that he wanted to become someone you would approve of, Sirius had pieced the rest together and apologized to James for leaving such a shit impression on his mystery date.

James sheepishly pointed at his own solution. “Should I change it?”

“Well, I mean did you see how the elves throw around with our luggage?”

James mirrored Sirius' grin. This break truly came at a perfect time. After all, James would let you occupy his mind as much as he needed to find out who you were.

Two weeks flew by in a blur. You and Regulus had set up a Christmas tree inside your small apartment and had made a competition out of finding the most impressive gift for each other, with only 10 galleons.

You had found the most gorgeous black quill and enchanted ink set for him and were rather confident until Regulus had somehow shown up with what looked like emerald, antique and gorgeously over the top earrings. You had shot him a look and he had immediately provided a receipt to prove he had played fair.

“I just have great negotiating skills,” he’d said.

You had hummed skeptically in reply but had happily tried them on.

All in all, the holidays were a very welcome break for you. Which is why you were so very reluctant to pack your bags. The door to your room opened and Regulus stood in the entrance, leaning against the door frame.

“Get out,” you groaned in dismay at the interruption. Regulus shot you an unimpressed look.

“Not until I see you pack; we leave in less than an hour.”

You huffed in annoyance and threw a pillow at his head. “I’m not asking you again, Black.” You flopped back down on your bed dramatically in dismay at the prospect of going back to Hogwarts. Regulus elegantly tilted his head and let the pillow fly past him.

“One hour,” he enunciated, before walking off.

You threw another pillow his way and yelled, “Close the door when you leave, you twat!”

With a flick of his wand, your door closed.

Regulus waited for you with a bag in his hand.

“Where’s the rest of it,” you teased as you motioned to the small amount of luggage he held.

Regulus turned red but stuck his chin up. “Left them here for the summer,” he off-handedly replied. You laughed. “Great, so you can help carry this bag then,” you grinned and pushed your smaller bag into his hands while you marched out the door with your heavy luggage, dragged behind you.

When you entered the platform, and were handed the Hogwarts newspaper, you did not expect to find a picture of you and James at the Yule ball on the front page. ‘Who are you, Willow?’

You immediately folded the paper together and looked up in panic at Regulus. He looked around and found different students excitedly chittering to each other, all while pointing at the newspaper.

“That is so romantic,”

“I thought James was with Lily?”

“No, they’re just friends now.”

“I was wondering who he was dancing with.”

“She looks so pretty.”

“If I found out that my date was James Potter, I’d take off that mask immediately.”

“Well, she could just be shy.”

“So true, probably Hufflepuff, don’t you think?

“I really hope he finds her.”

You grimaced at everyone and all you wanted to do was disappear. “Relax, Y/N,” Regulus smoothly pulled you on board the Hogwarts Express. “No one will know it’s you.”

Despite knowing that he was absolutely right, you still faced the floor as you looked for an empty compartment. You didn’t realize that you were passing James, who had just come back from a train meeting with the other prefects. He had picked up on Regulus’ words and frowned. But before he could really stop to consider Regulus’ statement, Peter happily waved at him from the marauders’ compartment. “We’re over here!” he called out. James forgot about what he heard.

Remus held the newspaper up in the air when James finally took a seat. “Really?”

“It was Pad’s idea,” James immediately said.

Peter curiously grabbed the newspaper. “Any results?”

James shrugged. “It’s only the first day,” he tries to convince himself, but he was not very sure about this approach to find you.

“It’s going to work out, trust me,” Sirius said. “When she sees that you’re going to this extent to find her, you’ll definitely woo her for sure,” he claimed.

Remus pulled a face. “I mean, if she ran off cause you two were being pricks, again,” he gave both Sirius and James a sharp look. “And hasn’t answered any of your messages, I don’t think starting a witch-hunt of sorts is the way to find her,” he voiced out his opinion. ”She clearly doesn’t want to be found.”

“What are you calling my methods bad?” Sirius squinted his eyes at Remus in mock offense.

“I’m just saying they wouldn’t exactly woo me,” Remus dryly remarked.

“And yet-“

“Guys,” James interrupted. “I just want to find her and apologize. And ask her for another chance to prove that I’m more than what she saw.”

“Well,” Peter started. He turned red when all eyes were suddenly on him. “She will probably not reveal herself. But she’s still a student here. And she knows who you are. So maybe if you publicly show off kind acts, she’ll see how you can be?”

There was a beat of silence and for a moment, Peter wanted to change into a rat and crawl into a hole to hide. But suddenly he was patted on the back by James. “Peter, you absolute champ!”

James Potter was acting weird, and you knew exactly what he was trying to do. You huffed to yourself as you marched right past him while he held the door open for his friends and you, who trailed in right behind them.

Previously, James would have definitely let the door fall in your face, and you had anticipated so, thus smoothly switching your books to your left arm, putting your right hand in front of you in a bracing manner. And so it happened that you stood there frozen, hand flat against James' chest, because he had turned around fully to hold the door open for you.

You embarrassedly dropped your hand that still lingered against him, and a deep frown settled on your face.

“I’d take ten points from Slytherin for touching a student without their consent, but I suppose I’ll let it slide for today,” he arrogantly said. You wanted to beat him up. But you supposed you could let it slide for today. You scowled at him and fled past him towards your designated seat.

Something tugged inside James’ chest as he watched you turn your back towards him and hurry away. He walked to join the rest of the marauders, a ghost feeling of your palm against his chest.

It hadn’t just been you that he was more civilized with. You noticed when you found him volunteering in the library, putting away books back on the shelves manually. This bothered you, because he tended to specifically linger around the particular section in the back about Egyptian rites, your favorite. You knew he was there to hopefully spot any often-returning students.

You also noticed that less and less students were coming back to the common room, hexed. Aside from snide remarks, you hadn’t encountered much animosity from him anymore either.

Instead, you found yourself on assigned patrol with him, despite the fact that Regulus had kindly offered to jinx his broom during Quidditch practice so you wouldn’t have to.

“So,” James broke the silence. “How was your holiday?”

“Why do you want to know,” you immediately shot back before you could stop yourself. James raised his hands in surrender. “Woah, sorry, L/N, just making conversation here.”

You sighed and forced your shoulders to lose their tension. “It was fine.”

“Fine.” James repeated.

“Fine,” you confirmed.

That was the end of your conversation, in your opinion. James however, seemed to think differently.

“So did you get any nice presents?”

You shot him an annoyed look but ended up answering anyway. “Yes actually, Regulus got me these earrings,” you said, and you tilted your head to show him. James’ eyes lingered on your earrings. They looked good on you. The exaggerated gem made you stand out despite your sober attire.

“What else?”

“What do you mean, what else?”

“Why, did your parents not buy you anything or what?”

You halted mid-step and stared up at James. He noticed that he had said something wrong, and when your sisters came to mind, he hurriedly tried to take his words back. You didn’t let him.

“I don’t go home for the holidays,” you settled on. “I’m not particularly welcome there. My parents are as big of a fan of me, as Alyssa and Marla are.” You laughed bitterly and continued walking. James followed behind you, he didn’t say a word, instead waited for you to continue.

“Well, I’m in Slytherin after all. Which obviously equals being an evil blood supremacist. They wouldn’t want to associate themselves with that, of course,” you sarcastically remarked.

James felt guilt slowly seep in. Your words resonated in his mind and his hands grasped the folded parchment in the pocket of his robes tightly. Those were his exact same words of that night at the Yule ball, and he bit his lip. “I’m sorry.”

You looked up at him, surprise evident in your eyes. “You’re sorry?” You asked him in disbelief.

James nodded. If he couldn’t say it to his mystery girl, at least he could say it to you, he figured.

James watched your eyes light up slightly and for a moment, he was lost in a trance. He snapped out of it when you returned the question. “So how was your holiday?”

He grinned at the olive branch that you were reaching out. “Mine was fine.”

“Fine?”

“Fine,” he teased. You fought the smile that threatened to tug on your lips.

Patrol ended without any incidents to report and when you wrote that down, James peered over your shoulder to catch your circled dot on the ‘i’ of “nothing to report.” A sense of déjà vu dawned on him, but the sheer unconscious refusal to even consider you a possibility kept your secret safe.

When you were in bed that night, you couldn’t help but think about how at ease you had felt for the remainder of the night with James, basking in the familiarity of the person behind the paper.

With every patrol, you two put another step forward in the direction of a friendship of some sorts.

James couldn't deny the fact that with each time, he started to look forward to the next time, almost the same giddy feeling fluttering in his stomach as each time he would unfold his parchment to find new kind words written there.

You and Willow would be friends, James thought, as he looked at you while you were casually explaining Transfiguration to him while you two strolled through the corridors, not without the occasional insult at his 'lack of competence'.

But for now, James enjoyed the privilege of calling you by your first name. A friend of some sorts, he liked to think.

Perhaps he was wrong about Slytherins. Sure, there were some rotten apples, but he supposed there were rotten apples in each house. And you weren't so bad after all.

For the first time in a long time, you enjoyed your days at Hogwarts. Truly enjoyed them. You would send Regulus to the library to get you your favourite books, and would patrol every Thursday with James unless he had Quidditch practice. Then you would patrol with Abrams. You’d come across James, who would nod with a kind smile at you as you two have come to be cautious friends and patrol-partners. You hadn’t really heard anything from your sisters either, which was absolute bliss as well.

But then one day, you were studying Transfiguration by yourself in the library, and you just so happened to need to go to the bathroom. When you returned, you noticed your book was missing and you pulled a sour face before requesting a new one from Professor McGonagall who had looked over her glasses at you.

But that hadn’t been the bad part. No, the bad part was that you had completely forgotten that you had put your enchanted parchment that connected yours to James’ inside that book.

Sirius had victoriously grinned at his funny prank idea. He would change some spells in your book so that you would mess up and become a toad in class. He tossed the book on a table in the common room and a piece of paper slid out.

Sirius had seen the piece of paper before, and his eyes grew as wide as saucers. He jumped up, ran towards his room, and rummaged through James’ nightstand before finding James' parchment under his pillow and wrote something on it. He walked back down the stairs with James’ paper, and he watched in disbelief as a messy ‘hello’ appeared on the paper that your sisters now held. “Merlin,” he breathed out, but your sisters had already stormed out of the room.

You entered the Great Hall and felt everyone staring at you and whispering. Even fellow Slytherin students looked at you in contempt. You gave Regulus a confused look when you walked to the free seat next to him. He quietly slid over the Hogwarts newspaper.

Front page again. ‘Mystery girl uncovered. Not a Willow, but a Hanging Tree.”

You didn’t need to read the rest; you tore your eyes away from the paper. Tears threatened to spill, but you tried to keep a cool front. You turned around to look for James and found him and his friends sitting right behind you.

Whoever thought that putting The Gryffindor table and Slytherin table next to each other should rot in the dungeons, you bitterly thought.

It was your sister who spoke up first. “I can’t believe someone like you would make themselves out to be a victim. ‘Oh no, my sisters bully me,’” she mocked you.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks and got up. She got up as well and you stood eye to eye with each other. “You’re pathetic,” She sneered. “You’re the real mistake here. So go do what you do best- run away.”

You wanted to say something. Anything. But you felt weak and small again. So you turned around and walked away. Whispers continued to fill the room as everyone seemed to have something to say about you.

“How embarrassing.”

“She should be ashamed”

“A Slytherin like her?”

“She definitely wasted James’ time.”

With every comment you heard, you bit harder on the inside of your cheek, and when that last comment dropped, you balled your fists. Why should you be the one to walk away?

You turned around furiously and marched back towards James, who had gotten up to follow you and reached out his hand. You recoiled.

“Y/N, listen-“

“No, you listen to me,” you spat at him. You looked him up and down with a pained look, holding back tears of frustration and while trying to convey as much disgust as you could.

“If you didn’t like what you found out, you could’ve kept it to yourself and thrown the damn paper away. You had no right to publicly try to humiliate me like this. All of your kindness in an attempt to be a good person only shows how wretched you really are when you stop pretending and act cruelly true to yourself.”

James' eyes flashed with hurt and he shook his head, words were stuck in his throat. He wanted to cover his ears; he didn’t want to hear you say this to him. This isn’t what he wanted at all. You were wrong. He didn’t even know it was you until he saw the newspaper this morning.

But you weren’t finished talking yet.

“Has it ever even occurred to any of you,” you looked at the people behind him. You stared your sisters dead in the eye. “That maybe your prejudice and thoughtless assumptions and insults about how awful or evil we Slytherins are, is the very thing that pushes us down that path?”

You turned your attention back to James, who had an unreadable expression on his face now. “Your cruel comments are part of the reason and you, James Potter, are especially cruel.”

Your tone was sharp, face hardened and the entire Great Hall had fallen silent. Not even the professors spoke up. James felt like you had hit him in the face, and you might as well have. He looked down in shame at your words.

You shakily let out your breath and lowered your voice again. This time, you sounded tired. Reality seemed to dawn upon you that everyone in the great hall was listening to you, and you shook your head to yourself, taking a step back. You scoffed softly.

“I suppose you are truly worthy of the Gryffindor name; overly proud and arrogant in the name of bravery with a tendency to prove yourself, disregarding others and their feelings.” Your venomous words cut through James' heart.

James watched you walk away again and everything around him seemed to fade. He was losing you again. How had he not seen this?

Your situation with your sisters. The way you ran away at the Yule ball when he made a crude remark about Slytherins. The sense of déjà vu every time you walked past him, back turned towards him. Your handwriting. The feeling of your hand pressed to his chest just as when you two danced. The way you were great at transfiguration and could have easily transfigured those glass slippers. The way Regulus was the only student to frequently visit your favourite book section in the library. The chills you had sent down his back when you had allowed him to call you by your first name, and in return had called him James.

‘I’m in Slytherin after all. Which obviously equals being an evil blood supremacist.’

‘No one will know it’s you.’

Everyone knows.

Preview if interested

Part three

Taglist:

@k0z3me @magical-spit @bouearis @sprinkled-strawberry-donut @sammy-4103 @imsirius01 @xxrougefangxx @lilianelena39 @bubybubsters @cyphah @handybrownpurse @joeytribbiani18 @letssee2468 @stunkbiggu @unstablefemme @charmingpatronus @hoshi-is-ult-bbg @sadpetalsstuff @hisparentsgallerryy @luvly-writer @starsval @thisisasecretsstuff @theweasleyskettle @thisisasecretsstuff @urmomw4ntsme @krillfromsky @ietss @itsberrydreemurstuff @alexandra-001 @prongsprincessworld @lilsunshine1092 @hawkinsavclub1983 @rinrinslovebot @fluffybunnyu @fearlessmoony @lavenderwisteria @darkenwolfie @gengen64 @grandtheoristpeach @anehkael @lunasolac @targaryenmoony @jasminesacademia @mr-underhills-things

[demon-at-peace]

Dick was tired, the nighttime patrol had been long, and today was insane. he was an officer of the law, and had gotten called into work today damn his people pleasing self for saying yes. Now he was dealing with shutting down protesters.

he hated this part of his job, exspecially because he agreed with them. but it was his job, and he didn't want to be depentent on Bruce again.

most people cleared out pretty quick at the sight of police but the riled up ones stayed. He was forever glad for the shield as the thrown objects didn' hit him

The major protesters were poison ivy, because it was for environmental purposes. and then a goth girl with a whole group with her. Her group consisted of a boy ina red beanie.

Three of them looked almost identical except for their proportions and gender. One was tall and skinny a guy, but they may have been a girl. A young girl, and a tall buff dude. All three of them had blue eyes and wild black hair with pale skin. With them there was a tall girl with striking red hair,

"Ewww cops!" he hears the one in the beanie exclaim looking at him with so much distaste it was almost insulting. \

"Leave it Tucker," The red head rolls her eyes dramatically, "We should probably go, cops really smell bad, and their supiroty complexes might be contagious," she purses her lips.

"Ooh sassy Jazz I like it," The skinny guy smiles teasingly before waving his hand in front of his nose. "Your right though, they do stink." Dick feels rather insulted, if he weren't more insulted by the young girl, who directly infround of cops is graftitiing the acronym ACAB on the wall.

"Cops?" The goth girl spins around and holy shit Dick recognizes her. It was Samantha mason, he remembers her at the last gala, she'd worn a gorgeous black dress, with lovely goth makeup, and walked out in the middle of the night barefoot after throwing her shoes at a guy who flirted with her girlfriend.

"Oh it's Dickie boy," she grins her eyes glinting, "How you doing away from your rich Daddy?"

"Oooh!" a girl laughs practically appearing from nowhere, she's a pink fashionista and drop dead gorgous, and if Dick remembers right she's Paulina, Sam's girlfriend.

"Unfortunatly we have proof of you commiting crimes, " another officer speaks up. "Please don't cause trouble?" he sounds hopeful, Dick knows not to be, there's no way this won't be a messy arrest.

"Sorry dude, I'm meeting my boyfriend 's family! I have to make a good impression," the buff guy shrugs.

"As if you'd obey the law regardless," The little girl prances up, grining.

"True, anyhow unfortunately we gotta dip," He waves half heartedly.

The skinny dude rolls his eyes and then a green portal apears, like it's utterly normal they step into it. And in the matter of seconds they are gone, the grafiti remains but when he checks the camera's later there is no sign of the group. He rules it of as a hallucination.

Five hours later, utterly exhausted he drags himself to the manor. Only to be met with the skinny guy from earlier, he looks put together now, less reckless but at least Dick knows they weren't a hallucination.

"Your the cop!" he glares.

"Danny, that's my brother, though unfortunatl y is a cop," Jaosn sighs, "wait the cop?"

"Your boyfriend avoided arrest!" Dick stars at jason.

"Ellie wanted to spray paint, plus sam dragged me to the protest with tucker!" Danny pouts.

"Yeah I'm on his side," Jason shrugs.

"He could be lying, what if he killed someone!" Dick protests.

"He wouldn't!" Jason sounds so insulted, and dick sighs as Jason goes over to greet Tim. Danny smirks at him evilly.

---

so this was gonna be ACAB!Danny/Cop!Dick, but it just didn't work, I'm gonna probably give it another shot but here's this DeadOnMAin piece? also my ideas are fr running dry, writers block is lame as fuck. I think I'm gonna tackle my drafts, see which ones are usable... but yeah!

Bye :)

[stvllioner]

hi sweetie my head is currently empty save for a sweet and understanding reader choking on dabi‘s bad boi d3ck and he rewards them for it afterwards and I wanted to request if you feel like writing something like this but if you don’t that’s totally ok! thank you for reading this ask anyways (^–^)

      dabi/touya todoroki x [fem]pro-hero!reader

warning(s): sexual content, oral (f → m), finger sucking, choking, fucking on camera aka sex tape, dacryphilia, mentions of masturbation, petting, semi-public sex, established relationship.

key: e/c = eye color.

read more: masterpost | adult masterlist | drabble list

a/n: it's a tame... i keep falling out of writing lol. im not sure if it does a good job on the blowjob aspect but it sort of does?? yeah? yeah. thank you, anon!

(E/C) irises look so heartbreakingly iridescent under Dabi's unrelenting back camera flash.

there was not a single thought behind your eyes as it was that much evident after allowing yourself to be so indecent in such a crude place.

you should be patrolling the block, but instead you find yourself in a cramped car, slurping down a villain's cock like there was no tomorrow. safe for him, he still had his clothes in tact, but he couldn't say the same for you. you had told him your shift was almost over so it didn't matter and you'll make something up to make up for the ruined costume later. Dabi would call himself shocked, but also proud at how well he had taught you to lie so naturally and well.

lying in devotion to him as you gazed hopefully at him, mouth so perfectly around his cock, and saliva at the corners of your mouth. selfishly, he asks for you to brace yourself as he pushes your head further onto his length. with quick thrusts as he could manage in the small space, Dabi could care less on how obvious it was that maybe there were people in here doing things they shouldn't be doing. only crooked people seemed to be around this hour anyway.

his cock slides itself easily between your lips, your saliva that forms at the corner of your lips and your combined humming to avoid the gag-reflex helps with him getting closer and closer to his release. he groans in distaste when he feels the familiar feeling build in his stomach and pushes your head away from his length. your hands that wrap around the rest of him that couldn't quite reach your mouth to stroke him, your expression now confused more than anything.

the camera probably lost a bit of focus then, but you were still clearly in view; he always made sure that you were always the main focus.

you ask him what's wrong but is silenced when he seemingly cups your check, lovingly, and strokes your cheek with his thumb. your pretty eyelashes blink up at him before you move your head to the side, enough so he can slip his thumb in your mouth and you happily suck on that too. he curses under his breath and withdraws his hand from you, instructing you to fully pull off your uniform. the hero costume that was specifically tailored for, you, and you only. you comply without any questions, careful to not hit him as you undress.

"play with yourself."

and you do just that.

but instead of just using your own hands, you take two of his fingers into your mouth and lubricate them with your tongue; the wet muscle in your mouth playing with his digits. he growls as you toy with him, instead forcing hand further into your mouth causing you to gag over them. he promptly pulls them out as he lets you catch your breath and turns you over to your hands and knees. phone be damned, he needed to fuck you now.

Dabi tosses the device elsewhere in the car, the object releasing a soft 'thump' as it signifies its landing on the floor. he doesn't even warn you as he begins to pet your already sopping folds, the amount of slick never ending. he circles your opening, teasingly, before he sinks them in, two at once. you softly hiss as he works his fingers into you. you were more than ready to receive him but your tightness was delaying it. as he manages to slip in another finger your jaw drops and your hips press into his fingers. trying your hardest to not moan at loud, you cover your own mouth and take his preparation.

you whimper out his name to warn him of your climax and groan outwardly when he withdraws promptly. he tsk's at your eagerness and uses your slick to wet his tip. through with teasing, he aligns himself to your hole and rubs his tip against your opening. he promptly drops a glob of spit to help with lubrication, not that you really needed it, but you know he likes it messy. it's almost humiliating how elated you shiver once he sinks his cock into your awaiting cunny, legs spreading and hands finding anything to brace yourself.

without his usual carefulness and his on-edge mood for the night, he sets an aggressive and fast pace, hands gripping you tight and nails digging into your skin. you blissfully whimper at the pain that shoots through your body, not sure to say anything about it as the sick part of you loved it anyways. unfortunately for the limited room in the car, it didn't allow much space to work with and it was frustrating Dabi deeply.

"turn around for me, doll."

it was a command more than it was a question. which you didn't mind, either. with carefulness, you followed his directions and turned around for him, assuming the position and holding in your breath as you ready yourself for his pace. his reinsertion was gratifying to say the least. with a swift motion and his hands spreading your cheeks to observe both of your holes, the embarrassment that you would've felt in this moment died long ago. "look at this ass," he teasingly calls out as he delivers a playful smack to your bum, watching as your cheeks bounce on his dick. now he wished he hadn't tossed his phone to the front to savor this moment for later.

your pager starts buzzing with work temptations, the sound of the device nearly going unnoticed by you. in a lust-filled haze, you weakly lift your head up from within the confines of your arms and try to support yourself. you babble, something about needing to look at it—your pleas going unnoticed and Dabi's eyes narrowing at your anxiety. the male sharpens his thrusts deeper into you (how it was still possible, you weren't sure) to command your full attention once again. selfishly, the rocking of his cock graciously stroking your walls without delay in his rhythm ultimately breaks your resolve. with familiar vigor, one of his hands snake forward to play with the bundle of nerves to help further you along, his actions giving you no choice but to finish on his cock.

if only he hadn't tossed his phone elsewhere, he could have captured this moment to sit along with all his favorites with your name on it.

all rights reserved © do NOT steal, alter, translate or copy this work.

[mariacallous]

In 2017, watching a two-hour Bastille Day procession, Donald Trump told the French president that we’d have one too, only better. That time, the grown-ups said no. The reasons given were costs – estimates ran to $92m – hellish logistics, and the Washington DC mayor Muriel Bowser’s worries that tanks and other armored vehicles would tear up Washington’s streets.

Some retired generals objected publicly to the totalitarian-adjacent optics, especially given the US president’s praise for such bad actors as Saddam Hussein and Vladimir Putin. Several Republican lawmakers also expressed their distaste. “Confidence is silent, and insecurity is loud,” the Louisiana senator John Kennedy told MSNBC. “America is the most powerful country in all of human history ... and we don’t need to show it off. We’re not North Korea. We’re not Russia, we’re not China,” he continued, “and I don’t wanna be.”

This time, as Washington prepares for a huge military shindig on 14 June, Trump’s 79th – and, oh yes, the US army’s 250th – birthday, the generals are silent. The Republicans have sworn allegiance to the king. And the media are focused on the price tag, the potholes and the impending pomp; on tensions between the blue city of Washington and the red capital; and on the decimation of veterans’ healthcare, housing, and pensions while the administration throws $25m to $45m at a circus of war.

All are important parts of the story. Yet commentary is muted and the debate mischaracterized as normal political discourse. The horrific point is missed: the spectacle of a massive show of military might, before a president who behaves like a dictator and views the armed forces as his personal foot soldiers, evinces memories of the worst totalitarian regimes. History may mark 14 June 2025 as the ceremonial birth of a new American fascism.

Military Parade in Capital on Trump’s Birthday Could Cost $45 Million, Officials Say, reported the New York Times in mid-May. CBS also led with the cost. The Washingtonian described in detail the street-damage-preventive measures the army is installing: metal plates under the parade route, rubber padding on the tank treads – though transportation experts warn that running, at last count, 28 Abrams tanks, 28 Bradley fighting vehicles, 28 Strykers, and four Paladins, each behemoth weighing as much as 70 tonnes, could buckle the asphalt and smash power, water and telecom lines underneath.

Even the New Republic, the president’s daily disparager, put the cost up top, tallied the ordinance, and noted that the man who “signed an executive order creating a program to ‘beautify Washington DC’” was now “plotting to transform his expensive birthday party into a demolition derby that will cause serious damage to the roads that line the nation’s capital”.

[churipu]

hii i noticed your reqs are open, if you dont mind can you do a pt 2 to jjk men vs their gf's plushie collection? with geto, choso and nanami :) thank youu

JJK MEN VS THEIR GF'S PLUSHIE COLLECTION

featuring. geto suguru, choso kamo, nanami kento x fem! reader

warnings. none

note. ooooo anon, the first part of this got a lot of love and i was actually contemplating on making a second part for it, so thank you for requesting <33 tbh if anyone messes with my plushie as a plushie collector, i will throw hands.

GETO SUGURU. for the first few months after he finds out about your plushie collection — the male actually doesn't mind it at all, in fact, he contributed in adding soldiers to the collection. but as time goes by, he began regretting it (just a teeny tiny bit) because he realizes that these plushies are close to stealing his spot as a partner.

"angel." he calls out to you in annoyance, his hand reaching out to grab circle around your ankle.

his mouth was full of distaste, he wanted to throw away those plushies from your embrace — he grabbed your ankle, pulling your body towards him with an angry grunt, "com'ere." he mutters out.

"sugu, what's wrong with you?" you ask him, blinking in confusion to what has gotten him in such a sour mood.

"that." he points at the plushie in your arms, "i don't like him." he snatches the plushie away, glaring at it.

"are you jealous of it?" you sang out happily, throwing your arms around his neck.

"i'm going to say it once, yes, 'm jealous of it. i'm not buying you anymore because why are they getting more attention than i am? are they the boyfriend?" he sputters out, looking away, avoiding your gaze.

you laugh lightly, grabbing his jaw to make him face you and kissed him shortly, "you could've just said so, you big baby."

CHOSO. is so confused, what did you find so entrancing about characters filled with cotton when you had a real life plushie by your side? (talking about him, by the way).

he didn't understand the feelings that were burning in him, but he didn't like it. not one bit. it was the kind of feeling where he'd want to use his technique on your plump plushies — but choso knew that you wouldn't like that so he has never done it.

when you're both home, the male trails around behind you like a lost puppy. very much confused to why the plushie was in your arms instead of him, but couldn't bring the heart to say it to you so he ends up just placing himself beside you on the couch, on the bed, wherever.

"cho, why are you looking at me? do you need anything?" choso was surprised at your sudden question, yes he was looking at you, precisely at the plushie squished in between your arms.

he shook his head and faced forwards, before you know it, his head turns to you again for a long time. eyes narrowed and lips puckered out, "i don't like this feeling," he mutters out.

you turn to him, "what feeling?"

"like i want to punch that in the face," he points at the dragon plushie in between your arms, and you burst out laughing.

"are you actually jealous of my plushie?" you put the plushie aside and opened your arms as an invitation for him, "why didn't you say so, hm?"

he didn't answer you and just dropped his weight into your embrace, burying his head into your shoulder, "because you like them."

you kissed the crown of his head, "but i love you."

NANAMI KENTO. he actually doesn't mind you having a collection at all — the thing he minds it when you pamper them instead of pampering him. nanami doesn't get in bad moods easily, but when it comes to you giving attention to your plushies first instead of him, he gets pretty upset.

working late was a total bum to you (to anyone else really), and coming home — nanami was ready to give you love, but when you greet him with a simple "hello" before running to the room to grab your favorite plushie out of the collection, he didn't know why; but he felt like he was actually losing to a whole non-living object.

and it actually made him upset.

"ken, why are you being awfully silent?" you jumped onto the couch where he was sitting at, the same plushie still in your arms.

the male stares at you for a bit before looking back towards the television — and you by now were worried, had you done anything wrong? or did something happen in his work place?

nanami wouldn't even admit it, because he knew if he admitted that he was jealous; he'd never hear the end of it. even if it was from you.

you tugged on his shirt, "did i do anything wrong?" oh, god, of course you didn't — but just the fact that you're asking him that made him feel guilty, so the male sighed, pulling your body close before shaking his head.

he grabs the plushie and throws it aside before pulling you into a hug, not breaking a word. he just hugs you in silence, not that you were complaining, "ken, did something happen?"

"i'm a little upset."

"can you tell me why?"

"you come home and go to your plushie? when i was the one waiting for you? i didn't even get a hug or a kiss," he mumbles out into your hair, and you lightly laugh, rubbing your hand on his back.

"so you're jealous?"

"no. i'm upset."

yes, yes. he was upset.

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[stellarbit]

hi big fan but too scared to publicly request 😭

could u do the Bad Batch boys reacting to female reader having a boyfriend they didn't know about? like maybe they're on break at the barracks and she starts dressing more revealing and cute and then leaving and they spot her with a man 😭

but ofc, because we love our clones more then other men, something needs to go horribly wrong so she splits up with them and comes back crying or something. you can add whatever twist you want, but (projecting here) perhaps the man was just trying to rush physical things with her and treating her like an object from the beginning and she just wanted to impress him until he started making her uncomfortable. hmm, very specific 🤔

anyway, love your writing so much. thank you 🙏

Your wish is my command

Word Count: 3.3k Pairings: Mostly platonic Bad Batch x fem!reader Warnings: objectifying d-bag bf, lil violence, a beer or two, jealous men Summary: The Bad Batch are back on Coruscant and looking for a night out with you. They find you and your new, unsavory boyfriend.

Frustrated and edged with exhaustion, Crosshair stomped onto the Marauder. He’d spent the last hour scouring the upper level of Coruscant for you to no avail. You’d missed your usual visit with the men of Clone Force 99 when they were on-world.

Visiting you became routine after their first visit to the Capitol. They’d come for special training before they were even assigned their signature armor. Ready for a taste of the real world, they’d snuck out into the city on their first night and right into the arms of swindlers. 

Somehow they’d fallen into the sights of a charming group of people you were all too familiar with. You watched the whole scene unfold from the balcony of your apartment. They promised to show the men a ‘good time’ and you knew that came with some unsavory consequences.

With nothing better planned for your night, you intervened and saved the men from, at the very least, being scammed. It turned out to be an unforgettable night with four new friends to boot and, when leave allowed, they’d find you for some fun.

So, with a few days between mission briefings and not knowing when they’d have leave again, the Batch tried to track you down. The problem was that this time they couldn’t find you anywhere - anywhere being your home or at the store you worked. 

Tech stayed with the ship while the rest looked for you. Hunter, Wrecker, and Echo were the first to turn in, leaving Crosshair to finish the hunt.

Hunter and Echo hung around the cockpit while Wrecker kicked back in a chair near the nav screens when Crosshair returned. As he sunk into the open nav chair next to Wrecker, Tech, wiping his hands on a rag, came aboard. 

Wrecker swiveled to face Crosshair with his head cradled in his hands. “Still can’t find her?”

Leaning onto his elbows, Crosshair growled into his hands. “What gave it away?”

“Did you check her coordinates?” Tech asked, seemingly exasperated by their wasted efforts.

“And how would we check her coordinates?” Echo scoffed from the cockpit. He and Hunter meandered their way towards the other three.

Tech looked between his brothers, disturbed by their blatant ignorance. “With the tracking device I gave her.”

Crosshair’s head shot up, masking his interest with a show of distaste, “You put a tracking device on her?”

Clearly offended by the idea, Tech snapped back, “No.” She wanted to make sure we could find her easily.” The silence that fell between them suggested they didn’t believe him. 

“You were all there.” He insisted, waiting for them to remember only to be met with silence. Sighing, Tech’s shoulders fell and he raised his forearm as he muttered, “Must’ve been when we were alone.”

Wrecker shot forward in his seat, jabbing an accusatory finger at Tech. “When were you alone with her?” The corner of Tech’s lips ticked up as he tapped through his controls, but he didn’t grant Wrecker a response.

They all seemed to forget that Tech kept plenty of information close to the chest. He also tended to be the more sober one of their nights out. They called him a lightweight, but having found it leant him private time with you he called it a fair trade.

After a few seconds, Tech pinpointed your location. Something caught in his throat when he saw how close you were. Tech proudly announced, “Found her. She’s at a lounge one sector over.”

His earlier annoyance faded as Crosshair pushed a toothpick into his smirk, “Sounds like she might need some company.”

“Well boys,” Hunter spoke up with a grin. Tossing a thumb in the direction of the exit he asked the group, “What do you think? Should we crash her night?”

Wrecker bounced up, filling the Marauder with a loud laugh. “You kiddin’? I can’t wait to see the look on her face.”

The men wasted no time in heading your way. Wrecker and Hunter led the group through the crowded streets, followed by Crosshair and Echo with Tech trailing behind with his face in a datapad, making sure they didn’t lose track of you.

Crosshair, noticing Echo’s half-worried look, tapped Echo with his elbow, “Lighten up, Echo. You might have fun for once.”

Used to Crosshair’s prodding, Echo rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the amusement in his voice, “Yeah, well some people don’t like surprises. This is either going to be fine or be a complete disaster.”

“Most likely a disaster.” Tech chimed in from the back.

You were only a few minutes away in a dark, basement floor lounge. Amongst a smattering of half-empty booths and dim lighting, you stood near the bar with a small group of men. 

In the time between Clone Force 99’s last visit and now, you’d fallen in with a man you’d met through work. He was nice enough, persistent in pursuing you and his attention wasn’t unwelcome.

You found yourself answering his calls, meeting his friends, and spending time with him on your days off. Slowly the casual company became intimate and so you stood amongst his friends, in a dark lounge with his hand on the small of your back. The dress you wore, chosen by your new boyfriend, was a little tight for your taste and exposed nearly all of your back.

He claimed it would boost your confidence. The twirling he had you do for his friends suggested it was for his own ego.

Your partner promised you’d be gone by midnight - a promise he’d broken more than once so far. Impatience and boredom dragged the night out, soothed only by cocktails and the bracelet you fidgeted with.

It was a handcrafted gift from Tech and their way to find you. You’d asked for the device in hopes that it would make you miss them less.

It didn’t. You decided that next time you were getting their comm channel out of them even if by force. If there was a next time.

Distracting yourself from the idle conversation around you, your eyes drifted around the mostly empty room. The music was as low as the lighting, only meant to allow conversations to remain private.

The group was having a fun time, some of the jokes even broadened your smile, but generally you were counting the minutes until you could leave. 

Commotion echoed down the front stairwell, breaking the calm of the establishment. Loud, booming laughter quieted your group, piqued your interest, and dialed your attention onto a familiar sound. Your heart stopped when you recognized the sound of shifting armor. For the first time all night, a genuine, albeit hopeful, smile brightened your face.

You stopped breathing all together when the Bad Batch stepped into the room. As impressive as the first time you saw them, your five friends fanned out with each of them scanning the room. Crosshair, ever the eagle eye, spotted you and shoved the brother beside him, Tech, with his elbow.

They were looking for you, you realized. The thought propelled you towards them, your feet barely touching the ground.

You’d not seen the Batch in months. A part of you had worried for the worst - that you’d never see them again. That nagging part of you grew larger than you’d realized, big enough that the relief of seeing them nearly reduced you to tears.

“C’mere, Mesh’la!” Wrecker bellowed, catching you in his arms as you hurled yourself at him. His hands scorched your back, a sensation you’d not felt in the months of their absence.

The harder you held onto Wrecker the more his armor dug into you, making it even harder to breathe through your excitement. When he finally set you down, you immediately latched onto the next closest man, Echo.

The smell of you overwhelmed him for a moment and he had to bite back a groan when he caught a sight of your exposed back. Echo couldn’t even return the gesture before you pulled away and whacked his chest plate. 

Stiffening your lip, you made a poor attempt at a scowl.

Hunter stepped in on you, not hesitating in wiping away your budding tears. “That look says you didn’t miss us too much.” Being so close to you after so long gave him half a thought to kiss you.

“The tears had me fooled,” taunted Crosshair from somewhere beside Wrecker.

Despite the half-assed scowl, a smile broke through and relief warbled your voice. “Do you even know how long it’s been?” You demanded, casting a look between them all.

Tech came to your side, plucking up your wrist for inspection. “Ninety-eight standard rotations.” He said casually, removing your bracelet without looking up.

The anxiety that spiked as he let you go forced your hand to keep him close. Your touch snapped his head up and you tilted towards him, playfully purring, “Aw, you missed me enough to count?”

He opened his mouth, some witty remark surely on his tongue, but a different voice piped up.

“Should I assume these men are your friends?” Your boyfriend said from behind you. You’d all but forgotten where you were and who you were with. 

Immediately releasing Tech, you turned away from the clones, pivoting to stand between them and your partner. Flashing a weak smile you waved in the direction of the Batch, meaning to introduce them.

Crosshair cut you short by stepping forward, putting himself halfway between you and your partner. Sporting a challenging smile, Crosshair looked the stranger up and down. Clearly unimpressed he scoffed, “What’s it to you?”

A pit formed in your stomach when your boyfriend planted his hand on your back. The possessive touch didn’t carry the same flame Wrecker’s did, something you’d not realized up to that point.

“I try to make a habit of knowing my girlfriend’s friends.” Your partner said, accentuating the sentiment with a kiss to your temple.

Slightly horrified Tech recoiled, incredulously parroting in unison with Hunter, “Girlfriend?”

It would’ve been impossible to inform them while they were away, and you certainly owed them no explanation, nonetheless shame crept through you. Avoiding the eyes of your friends, you grinned at your boyfriend, “Let me introduce you to the finest soldiers the Grand Army of the Republic has to offer.” Proudly inhaling your smile grew and you added, “And my friends.”

Looking between your boyfriend and the group, an odd thought occurred to you. You’d never realized the man beside you was on the short side. Shorter even Hunter at least.

Wrecker placed a hand over his chest, mockingly cooing to Crosshair, “Aww, she likes us.” 

Crosshair snorted, when it wasn’t directed at him Crosshair went along with his Wrecker’s goading. Crossing his arms and leaning towards his larger brother, the sniper mused “She’s even blushing.”

Your boyfriend snapped his head towards you, annoyed to see that you were indeed blushing. He’d not seen you get this easily worked up. Although he knew from the moment you ran into Wrecker’s arms that he wanted you nowhere near the men. 

Slowly scanning your form, a condescending smile perked Crosshair’s lips. “Didn’t know that was your style,” He nodded at you, obviously referring to your outfit.

Crosshair never failed to pull a reaction out of you, this time you were  interrupted by your boyfriend slipping his hand up your back and down your arm. The action knotted frustration in your throat as it was what he had done with his friends. 

The longer Crosshair watched this man with his hands all over you, the harder Crosshair bit down on his toothpick. Since you’d first coerced him to dance, Crosshair’s own hands still ached to find their way back to your waist.

And just as he had with his friends, your boyfriend lifted your arm by your hand. He gave you a light jostle, encouraging you to spin around. “It suits her, doesn’t it? I picked it out myself.” 

Where the eyes of his friends felt oily and unwelcome, you only felt heated embarrassment in front of Clone Force 99.

The dress flattered you and you could admit that, at times, you’d imagined how it’d feel for the clones to see you in something like it. You wondered what it would be like for even one of them to see you as more than a friend. To find you attractive. Maybe even want you. But not like this.

Unbeknownst to you, the men did find you attractive. Exceedingly so even. You were a breath of fresh air for them and the only glimpse of normalcy they had. 

As opposed to spinning, you tried to tug your hand free as you mumbled under a smile, “I don’t want to do that.”

Hunter and Echo exchanged a confused look. Just as your boyfriend hadn’t seen this excited side of you, the Batchers hadn’t seen you like this. You looked uncomfortable.

Meanwhile, your boyfriend firmly held your hand. Groaning, he tilted his head back in feigned exhaustion. “Babe,” he dragged the word out before speaking to you like he was correcting a child. “We talked about this, lighten up and give us a spin.” 

Hunter caught you off guard when he pulled your hand free. While he kept his touch soft in light of whatever new boundaries your boyfriend posed, he wasn’t going to watch you be pushed around. Unwilling to risk your discomfort, he made sure to step out of your space quickly.

You almost stepped with him.

“She said ‘no.’” Hunter said with the authority of his rank. 

Your boyfriend scoffed and drew back in disbelief. “I’m sorry, where did you all even come from?” Either out of misplaced bravado or from the liquid courage, he advanced on Hunter. “Don’t speak for her.”

Blinking away the irony, you tried pulling him back. “He wasn’t,” you whispered in attempts to soothe him.

He yanked out of your touch, earning a growl from Wrecker. Raising his voice in challenge, your boyfriend insisted, “No, I think he was.”

Ever the voice of reason, Echo stepped in beside Hunter. “Why don’t we just take a breath?” Echo’s hazel eyes fell to you, brows pulling together in a silent question.

“I’m fine, Echo.”

“You’re fine?” Your boyfriend whipped his irritation around on you. A beat of fury pulsed between you and all you could do was smile awkwardly. How had this escalated so quickly?

“I’m sorry,” You chuckled in astonishment. “What’s going on with you?”

Neither of you backed down, in fact he only pushed harder by angling his face into your space. “What’s going on with me?” The smell of liquor on his breath finally connected the dots for you. “What other friends do you have that I don’t know about?” 

Suddenly, something caught his eye. Turning his attention to Tech, your boyfriend pointed at your bracelet in Tech’s hand. “What are you doing with that?” He asked suspiciously.

Tech, who had been silently picking the stranger apart, gave a scornful roll of his eyes. Tucking the accessory away in one of his many pockets, Tech said in a dry tone, “I don’t believe what I do with my gift is of any importance to you.” He may or may not have purposely mentioned ‘my gift.’

Wearing a confident smirk, Tech looked directly at the man beside you as he said, “It suits her, doesn’t it?”

As if on cue, your boyfriend gave you a seething, sideways glance, playing right into Tech’s hand.

Heaving a sigh, and trying to lend him the benefit of the doubt, you made another attempt at directing him away from your friends. “Why don’t you-”

This time he smacked your hand hard enough that it stung. This was a side of him you’d not expected and it was not one you liked. 

A snarl rippled through Crosshair as he lunged between you, put his hand over your boyfriend’s face, and thrashed him backwards. Wrecker cackled, only encouraging a wicked smile from Crosshair as he shifted over your splayed out boyfriend.

You winced at the spot of blood coming from his nose. Notably, though, you didn’t intervene this time.

Wrecker came around to you, resisting the urge to step the man on the ground by completely passing over him. Gently, he lowered himself to your eye level and lifted your hand. His touch felt so different from that of the man you were seeing, it made you completely forget the feeling in your hand.

They all made you feel so different. You’d missed them much more than you’d realized.

“You alright, Mesh’la?” Wrecker swiped his palm over your cheek and down your neck to rest on your shoulder.

The soft smile you offered him swelled something in Wrecker’s chest. Your presence created a soft spot in his life, making it harder to leave you with each trip.

You laid a hand over the massive one on your shoulder, “I’m fine, really.” Although it probably wasn’t ‘fine’ that you had to reassure them all over the behavior of someone meant to be your partner.

From the ground, the man in question snickered, “I see it now.” Pushing up onto his elbows, he spat, “You’re just a barracks bunny.”

The insinuation was lost on you but not Echo.

Echo lurched through the group, shoved Crosshair aside and ripped the drunken man by his collar. “You little scumslug!”

For what seemed like the first time ever, Echo had to be the one restrained. Hunter broke in and yanked Echo up before he could drill his scomp into the downed man. You and the rest of his squad all wore similarly surprised expressions. 

Seeing Echo lose his temper was the breaking point for you. The man you’d allowed into your life was still panting on the ground when came to stand over him. He didn’t say anything, knowing full well what the look on your face meant.

“Don’t call me again,” You muttered dismissively and said nothing else as you turned to leave, waving for the others to follow. “Let’s go guys.”

They all followed suit, except for Crosshair. He crouched onto the balls of his feet and leveled a sneer to your newly dubbed ex. Low enough for just the two of them to hear, Crosshair said, “We’ll know if you bother her again.” The sniper drew just an inch closer to hiss, “Come near her again and you’ll never see daylight again.”

Crosshair sat still for a moment, ensuring the promise properly sunk in. Having watched the color drain from the man, Crosshair flicked his toothpick into the sad sack’s face.

When you all finally made it back to your place, it was decided that a quiet night in was well deserved for you all. It didn’t exempt the night from at least a few drinks.

Returning from your kitchen with a round of beers, you settled onto your couch between Echo and Tech. Wrecker lounged on the floor while Crosshair and Hunter occupied the remaining arms chairs.

They regaled you with stories from the front lines in exchange for the quiet comfort of your company. Eventually, you reclined against Tech, eyes shut, as he scrolled through his datapad.

“Echo.” You said, seemingly out of nowhere. Peaking an eye open you lilted a suspicious smile his way. 

Mid-sip, Echo could only hum in acknowledgment. When you asked, “What’s a barracks bunny?” He nearly choked on his drink.

“Yeah,” Wrecker blurted out, the confusion coming back to him. “I was wondering that too?”

All eyes were on Echo as a flush came over him. It hadn’t dawned on him that the men of his new squad had little experience with typical trooper slang or the rumors regarding some regs.

“It’s...” He stuttered to get the definition out, ultimately shaking his head and setting his beer aside. Passing the buck to Tech, he chuckled, “You know what, Tech why don’t you put the holonet to good use and look that one up yourself.”

taglist: @baddest-batchers @bruh-myguy-what @jetii @zahmaddog

a/n: Thank you to everyone who offered me their words of support over the last month. It's been a really dark time and I'm always amazed by how lovely this fandom is. I'm forever grateful to all you barracks bunnies out there.

[nonamenonamenon]

Across all three realms, Solomon is a sorcerer known to all as fearsome and powerful.

He has a notable amount of demons under pacts with him, and his magical prowess is nothing to laugh at, either.

Some even tell the tale of the sorcerer being able to wage war on the entirety of the Devildom, with only one man, himself, backing his corner.

To his friends and acquaintances, he's an eccentric human with a love for cooking. His love for the act doesn’t mean he’s good at it, though.

Rather than fearing his skills and abilities when it comes to magic, his cooking is the most fearful thing about him.

He’ll serve you food that looks like it’s been made out of poison and objects entirely unfit for making dishes with a handsome, close-eyed smile.

He’s entirely oblivious to the deadly effects that his meals dish out to those who eat it, with his cooking being bad enough to make even the most fearful demons in the Devildom keel over and faint simply by having a taste.

However, known to you, and only you, is a softer side of Solomon not often seen by others. Among every human, demon, angel, reaper, and any other race in this world, you feel as though you’re blessed by the Celestial Realm itself to be the only person to see all of his sides so wholly and so intimately.

As his adorable apprentice (as the sorcerer often calls you,) you’re all too aware of his skill when it comes to magic. In your eyes, he’s stellar, and an amazing teacher. While being his pupil isn’t easy, he makes sure to know that you’re doing well through praise, offering a kiss for every spell you get right, and other rewards that… aren’t exactly age appropriate enough to mention.

Though, you think he enjoys these acts a lot more than you do.

When it comes to domestic things, Solomon is all too elated by the act of cooking for the one he holds most dear. He puts all of his heart and soul into the meals he creates for you, though that doesn’t mean they’re any better. Living with Solomon… is no easy task. Especially when it comes to eating his cooking.

Unfortunately for you, your love for Solomon and the guilt of having to stare at his sad face when you reject his meals overpower your distaste for his cooking, so you grin & bear it, even if you’ll end up with nasty side effects after.

The soft, quiet, and romantic moments with Solomon are what you treasure most.

The ones where you sit, studying together in a comfortable silence, where you simply exist in each other’s presence, feeling the other’s warmth.

The moments where you’re quietly observing his peaceful sleeping face, and the moments where he’s giving you much needed comfort and affection, consoling you without needing to say any words.

It’s heartwarming, and it makes your stomach churn & flutter in a good way.

He once told you that he never had anyone in his life that cared about him so deeply, or anyone to care for in the same way.

Throughout your entire relationship, and for your foreseeable future with him, you make sure to never let him feel that way ever again.

It’s a gross underestimate to say that you two only love each other.

What you have with Solomon goes deeper than words can describe, and what you two feel for each other is more than you can express.

It’s why the quiet moments with him are your most treasured.

In each comfortable silence that the two of you share together, no matter when it is or where you are, the both of you know well that there’s a million words (and more) of love and affection being said.

[donkeys-waffles]

Just as a warning to those that may be concerned, this is a Bakugo bashing post. If you love Bakugo as a character, then more power to you. He's my least favorite character across the board. And this is me venting my distaste for him, so be warned. Thank you :)

As I'm rewatching MHA, I've gotten to season 6 when Bakugo apologizes to Izuku. And there's something that really bothers me about it.

I feel like Bakugo had potential as a character. Like he really did, even though I don't like his character. I feel like there was potential for him to be an important figure in Izuku's development and growth. And the apology scene wasn't too bad for me. But I feel like it fell short in two major points.

Izuku rarely addresses and monologues about his own trauma/childhood. He expresses very little justified rage and the only real proof of the impact of his childhood lies within his body language and the subtext. His fear of Bakugo, borderline suicidal hero complex, every single scar on his body from overworking himself, constantly undervaluing himself and his efforts/improvements, and much more.

And the last point is Bakugo, I can understand wanting to keep core aspects of his character, but he has to change a little more to have it be considered character growth. The reason he bullied Izuku is because he felt that when Izuku reached out to him, Izuku viewed him as weak (delusional but go off. Literally harassed and assaulted someone for a decade because they tried to help you up when you fell.) His entire character arch was centered around the idea of not just winning, but also saving. He was supposed to understand the importance of both. But not only that, he was supposed understand and accept that help is needed, and you can't always win. I mean, if Izuku were to help him in a pinch now he needs to learn to set aside his arrogance, pride, and inferiority complex to accept help, and not explode into an overgrown toddler because he lost. With learning the importance of saving, he's supposed to not center his ENTIRE objective around strength and being the best all the time. And this could be done, while also still keeping his character true to himself. I always hear about his character development as a reason to like Bakugo, which... I don't completely agree. The only two changes are he doesn't physically attack people (Izuku) and doesn't call him Deku anymore, which GOOD I would hope that'd at least change. But his focus is still completely centered around winning. He says as much after the apology, in the baths, he's still fighting Izuku to become number 1. And that's not a bad thing entirely. I understand that's his character, what I want to see change is how he handles losing, how he handles not being the best and failing especially to Izuku. And what I get is an OVA with Bakugo having a temper tantrum because of a tie with Izuku, he used his quirk and was screaming about it too. It doesn't help that every chance he gets he talks about winning and out-besting Izuku in something, even with his fight with AFO he talks about it. Like he doesn't care that AFO is finally dead, and he saved the world, doesn't even offer a small sense of relief that he helped a lot of people, no, he beat Izuku and is clearly better and that's all that matters.

It's just, that entire mentality is what caused Izuku his problems, this mentality caused Bakugo to abuse him for a decade. I feel like the apology could've been done better, but it was just added to give Bakugo good boy points and then completely brushed aside. He's changed in some ways, but he hasn't changed enough to warrant forgiveness. Not when his competitiveness is still seen as somewhat mean spirited. Even when he found out about Izuku losing OFA, I just sat as he cried and thought "WOW, if I had my childhood bully that abused me for a decade for being quirkless, cried because I was quirkless again and couldn't compete with them anymore. I'd punch them so hard in the face." Like the audacity. Excuse me, I'm the one lying broken and battered in this hospital bed, with my dreams crushed again, and YOU'RE crying because you can't have an opponent for being the number 1 hero.

It's like Izuku is never seen as a person to Bakugo for most of the show, just something to kick aside, something to squash so he doesn't have to face his own inadequacy, and now just something to beat. Something with a power strong enough to rival the great Bakugo. And I feel like the narrative is trying to push that they were fighting for this dream together, since childhood up until this point in canon. That the bullying never happened, like that whole decade didn't exist. They do this through the scene of Bakugo crying and the All Might cards, but like how can you forget the last 5 seasons of the show and what 300+ chapters of Bakugo doing his upmost to crush Izuku under his boot. They most definitely DID NOT fight for that goal together their whole childhood, Bakugo has been crushing that boy's dreams of being a hero for years, instilling in him deep rooted self-hatred and a fat imposter syndrome.

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

Prompt from @stusbunker: Dean used to think he could never keep up with your exhibitionism. The Demon inside him calls your bluff.

Characters: Knight of Hell/Demon Dean Winchester x You, Sam Winchester

Tags/warnings: 18+ ONLY, dubious consent, exhibitionism, dirty talk, name-calling, threat of object insertion (yes, please, sir), misuse of a piano bench, pool table sex, you are a GD TROOPER for this heroic act

Words: 1,500

Author's notes: Stuie, you always give the best prompts. @brrose-apothecary and I had a lot of fun with this one!

This is the first fill for my 2024 Flashfic Festival.

Exhibition

“Dean Winchester,” you sing-song as you saunter into the backroom of the bar, where Dean’s been plucking at piano keys and downing Maker’s like water for hours.

You narrow and drag your deliberately licentious gaze over Dean’s frame, and he answers with a head tilt and a mirror of your attitude and glare. He greets you by name as he slowly rolls his shoulders back and turns away from the piano keys to face you. You pretend not to notice him setting aside his recent weapon of choice in favor of a glass filled with whiskey.

“What’s a nice boy like you doing in a place-” you pause and give the room a distasteful scan before returning your attention to Dean. “Like this?”

You come to a halt about three feet from Dean, closer than I’d allow if I could come out of the shadows, but we agreed to you going in alone. 

“Not so nice,” Dean replies, sipping from his glass as he swings one leg over the bench to straddle it. He watches you over the rim of his glass for a few beats before taking a long pull.

“Mmm, you Winchester boys really try playing the Bad Boy card.”

Dean shrugs as he stands up. You watch his body unfold, and a brief flash of uncertainty sparks in your eyes. 

“Guess ya haven’t talked to my baby brother in a while, huh?” Dean downs the remainder of what’s in his glass, as he strolls toward the bar, brushing past you, side-eye and all. 

“Tall, dark, and tight-ass? Not lately.” 

I roll my eyes at that one, but you’re playing your own cards right now and doing it well. You turn with Dean as he passes you, making sure to keep him in your sight and off your back. 

Dean scoffs at your remark as he reaches for the bottle of whiskey left out on the bar to refill his glass. “Yeah, Sammy’s always had a stick up his ass.”

He takes another long sip and feigns nonchalance, resting his elbow on the bartop, searching your eyes as you walk the ominous path to meet him toe-to-toe.

“Not you, though. I always wished we had more time together, for a little-” you sigh and bite your lip. “Remember that night in Chattanooga? I told you the coast was clear, but-” you shake your head, moving closer. “You were too worried someone’d walk in on us.”

You chuckle and roll your eyes like you aren’t baiting a Knight of Hell. Dean silently stares you down, his expression unreadable, until your combat boots kiss his loggers. 

“Think you wanted someone to walk in on us,” he grunts before taking another sip.

You shrug and play coy. “Maybe I liked an audience.”

There’s a sound of muffled voices entering the kitchen from the alley, pots and pans being utilized, and water is turned on. My heart rate kicks up a notch, but you remain composed. Dean studies your lack of reaction. 

“How ‘bout now?” he asks, throwing back the rest of his drink and setting the empty glass aside. He doesn’t take his eyes off you as he towers over you, clearly using his size and mass to rattle you.

You grin and Dean smirks. He shoves a hand up the back of your hair and squeezes. It has to sting, but you whimper and start to drool, gripping the lapels of his overshirt. He angles your head to his advantage, exposing your throat, and dips in to lick a line from your collarbone to your jaw.

“Didn’t answer my question,” he mutters, taking the hinge of your jaw between his teeth and rolling you to arch your back over the bar.

You stumble and huff a breath. Your eyes are wild and searching until they find mine, and you sigh with relief, letting your eyes fall closed. You relax into Dean’s forceful onslaught.

“Maybe I still like it,” you breathe, opening your eyes again, and showing me renewed conviction.

Dean chuckles again, darker this time with a cruel edge I’ve never heard from him. He kicks your feet apart, making your skirt ride up high, and tucks a knee between your thighs, brushing dangerously against your knee-high boots. 

He kisses you then, using the hold on your hair to keep you where he wants you, and tearing at the buttons of your blouse.

“This get you off? Knowin’ the kitchen staff’s back there? That they’re gonna hear when I make you scream?”

You wrench from his hold and push him. He laughs and stumbles backward, watching you stalk after him, dropping your jacket to the floor and removing your shredded top the rest of the way.

“Keep talking.” 

“You like an audience and you like me tellin’ you about it? Want me to tell you what a dirty girl you are too?”

Dean bumps the piano bench and sits with his back to the piano, letting you climb astride his hips and push his shirt from his shoulders to the black and white keys. He grabs you by the hair again, and his other hand disappears under your skirt.

“Answer me,” he sneers.  

Your body jolts. I did not expect things to go this far—you’ve put yourself at grave risk, but you’re turned on, too. I’m not a voyeur, but I can’t take my eyes off you for even one second and leave you at his mercy.

“Fuck,” you whisper. “Yes. Tell me.”

Dean nods, licking his lips. 

“I’d bet-” he pauses and his shoulder rolls with whatever his hand’s doing under your skirt, and you choke on air, mimicking the grip he has in your hair. “That dishwasher back there’d love to walk out here and see you ridin’ my hand like a hot, little slut.” 

You gasp and yank his head back, but he resists enough to maintain eye contact with you. 

“Could lay ya out on the lid of this baby grand, spread you open, fuck that bottle of whiskey into this tight, slick hole for everybody to see and hear. Give ‘em all a little sip of this pussy.”

You whimper and drop your chin to your chest and your forehead to his.  

“Listen to how fuckin’ sloppy you are,” Dean mutters. “So easy. C’mon and come and I’ll bend you over the pool table and give ‘em a real show.” 

You roll your head to the side and your mouth falls open on a silent cry, one fist tightening in his hair and the other twisting the neck of his t-shirt.

“There it is,” Dean whispers.

He gives you about three seconds before standing and carrying you to the pool table. 

“Not even wearin’ panties. You came here down to fuck, didn’t ya, princess?”

He drops you on the edge of the table then traces the ridge of your collarbone and the straps of your bra before flicking the front open and letting it drop around your wrists. You toss it aside, so you aren’t hindered by it, while Dean unbuckles his belt and pushes you to lie back.

You lift your knees and hold yourself open by the backs of your thighs. Dean rests a hand over your breastbone before trailing his fingers from your sternum to your belly as he guides himself inside you, and you both groan. 

“Oh-ho-ho,” Dean huffs a laugh and wraps his fingers around your knees on top of yours. “I knew this pussy’d be good. The old me was too much of a softie to fuck ya rough and quick back in Chattanooga. Someone might’ve walked in!” He laughs, pressing over your belly as he sets a brutal pace. “Worth the fuckin’ wait, though, shit.”

He never shuts the fuck up, talking about what it looks like sinking into you, telling you how pretty you are stretched around his hammering cock, and calling you the best, dirtiest, little bitch he’s ever had. 

He’s so caught up in the moment, so amused by the sound of his own voice and satisfaction, that he doesn’t see you reach into the hidden compartments on the outside of each of your boots.

You’re lightning fast with the holy water and cuffs. Before I can even make my way out from the service hallway where I’d been hiding since 10 AM, Dean’s on his knees, smoke rolling from his skin with his hands bound.

“Nice work,” I huff a breath, stopping short to give you enough room to gather your things.

Dean snarls and snaps as you hop down from the table and smooth your skirt over your hips. 

“Thanks.” You reach for your bra and quickly slip into it before scooping up your jacket.

“You fucking bitch,” Dean growls, rolling to his back to refasten his pants. “You can’t hold me like this, and I will fucking kill you. Both of you.”

I watch you shrug into your jacket with wide eyes. You’re trembling as you sidle up next to me. “You sure this’s gonna work?” you whisper.

I nod and squeeze your hand in mine. “I’m sure.” 

I draw a deep breath and watch my brother smolder like a raging forest fire, dragging you closer to my side than to where he’s writhing at our feet.

“It has to.”

My Dean Winchester Fic | My Supernatural Fic | My Master List

[hp-hcs]

carnations — mlm! disaster! simp! enzo berkshire x male! mlm! muggleborn! gryffindor! reader

hooooo boy, alrighty, a few things:

i am in fact alive, hello! i just got really bad imposter syndrome about my writing and didn’t post any fics for like three months <3

i did actual RESEARCH for this fic. using an actual physical BOOK.

one of my lovely little darlings suggested an enzo + male reader + picnic date drabble, and it spiraled into 1.4k words of gay

you will get secondhand embarrassment from enzo in this. just warning you. but it’s in like a cute way so yk

ty all for not getting mad about me not posting i literally adore y’all sm 🤟

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Y/n,” Ron loudly whispered, elbowing you in the side. “Do you have a spare quill I can borrow?”

“Can you last one day without breaking something, Weasley?” You rolled your eyes fondly, giving him the quill in your hand and reaching down to grab another from your bag. Instead, your hand brushed against something else.

You retrieved the mystery object from your bag with furrowed eyebrows. It was a small rectangular object, no bigger than your palm, wrapped in brown paper and tied up with a pretty lavender ribbon—with a single green carnation in the center of the bow.

You set aside the carnation, unwrapping the tiny gift and being met with the sight of a small book, bound in leather, which bore the gilded name: FLORIOGRAPHY: A Guide to the Victorian Language of Flowers.

~~~

The first flower you found was pressed between the pages of your Runes textbook. A combination of a rich purple and vibrant yellow color, with a striking dark center that spread out onto three of its five petals.

You carefully tucked the flower back away in between the pages of your textbook, vowing to look it up after class.

You couldn’t focus for the rest of the lesson.

~~~

It took a while to flip through every entry of the two-hundred page book, squinting at the tiny illustrations, but you eventually found a match to the mystery flower.

————— PANSY Viola tricolor var. hortensis

Meaning: You occupy my thoughts —————

~~~

“Parkinson!”

Pansy stopped in her tracks, looking back over her shoulder with a look of distaste. “Yes, lion?”

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“We’re talking right now,” she drawled, but grabbed your sleeve and pulled you into a nearby empty classroom. “What is it?”

You root through your bag, drawing out the Runes textbook.

“Homework?” she scoffed. “I’m not a tutor, little lion.”

“No, not the book.” You rolled your eyes, carefully opening it. “I found this in between the pages this morning.”

Her eyes lit up at the sight of the pressed flower you cradled in your hand. “It’s you?” She looked baffled. “Huh. I never would’ve guessed. Anyways, congratulations on solving the first clue.”

~~~

An odd hot-pink flower, with little shoots sprouting from the center and reminding you a bit of those light-up fiber optic lamps from the Muggle world, sat in the palm of your hand. A second green carnation was tied to the stem of the mystery flower with another lavender ribbon.

Pansy had abandoned you as soon as the flower was in your possession, saying that she hadn’t been paid enough to stick around.

(You knew she was just as invested in this as you were.)

Finally, after flipping through the little leather-bound book for what felt like the hundredth time, you found the strange flower.

————— MYRTLE Myrtus

Meaning: Love —————

Huh. Well. Okay then. A little on the nose, but alright.

~~~

“Um, excuse me? Miss…Myrtle Warren?”

“A boy!” the unsettling ghost girl shrieked. “Twice! In one day!”

“There was another boy in here?” you asked hopefully. “Who was he?”

“Get out! This is the ladies’ room!”

“I’m real sorry, Miss Myrtle,” you said placatingly. “I’m just on a…scavenger hunt of sorts, and I thought a clue led to you. My apologies for bothering you.”

“A scavenger hunt?” Myrtle questioned, suddenly interested. She uncrossed her arms and floated down from the ceiling. “What are you looking for?”

“A flower of some sort? The last one I got was from a myrtle tree.” You held the offensively pink flower up for her to see. “It’s why I thought you might be the next clue.”

She looked flattered. “Well…the other boy who came in here earlier did have something with him. A package.”

“Did he leave it in here?”

“Yes.” Myrtle points to the dusty windowsill on the far wall. “Why is he leaving things for you?”

“I don’t know,” you said vaguely, hoping to bypass the conversation. As much as you’d love to discuss the intricacies of queer relationships with an annoying ghost girl who died in the forties, you’d rather do literally anything else.

So you merely picked up the brown paper-wrapped item, familiarly decorated with a lavender bow and a green carnation, and tucked it safely in your bag to be opened later.

“Thank you for your help, Miss Myrtle.”

The ghost giggled and her cheeks turned a silvery-white; probably the phantasmic equivalent of a blush.

You quickly hurried out of the girls’ bathroom.

~~~

————— CLEMATIS Clematis

Meaning: Cleverness —————

“I’m at a dead end,” you groaned, resting your head on your arms.

Ron patted your shoulder from beside you, only half paying attention to your queer plight. “You’ll figure it out,” he mumbled around a mouthful of pie, spewing crumbs all over the table.

Hermione made a face. “Charming, Ronald.” At his weak protests, she just rolled her eyes and turned back to you. “How do you even know it’s a boy anyways?”

“Carnations,” you mumbled. “Green carnations. Oscar Wilde’s secret symbol of homosexuality in the late nineteenth century.”

“Okay, so your secret admirer is a dork, is what you’re saying,” Ron drawled.

You looked up with a scowl, ready to throw back a witty remark, when you were interrupted by Lightning Boy-howdy-how-has-he-not-died-yet.

“What’s with the whole bouquet you’ve got going on, L/n?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at the half-dozen flowers spread out across the table.

“Trying to decode some fuckin’ Victorian bullshit.” You smacked the book down on the table, frustrated.

Harry picked up the large dark purple flower you’d unceremoniously tossed in front of you.

“Oh, this is a clematis flower,” he said offhandedly. “My aunt and uncle have this exact shrub in their garden. The blooms never get this big though.”

You perked up in surprise. “You’re familiar with it?”

Harry nodded. “Yep. Tricky little bugger. Lord Neville’s a pretty aggressive feeder and needs lots of fertilizer, although that’s true of all clematis plants, I suppose. They’re also—”

“What did you just say?” you interrupted.

“It’s an aggressive feeder…?”

“No, no, the other part. Lord Neville?”

Harry quirks an eyebrow. “Yeah? It’s just the name of the subspecies, Y/n. No big deal.”

“Oh my Godric— I have to go!”

You shove everything into your bag, almost tripping over the table’s bench in your haste to get up.

“What about lunch?” Ron called after you, affronted.

“No time!”

~~~

You hesitantly opened the door to Greenhouse No. 5, peeking inside the warm shed.

“Neville?” you called out cautiously, giving one plant actively trying to wriggle out of its pot nearby a wary look.

You fully stepped inside the greenhouse, your attention immediately caught by the neat trail of green fan-shaped petals on the ground.

You followed the trail through the front room of the greenhouse, crossing through the threshold to the second room and looking up, only to see—

“Berkshire?”

Enzo rocked back and forth on his feet nervously, chewing his bottom lip and fiddling with the cuffs of his uniform shirt. “Surprise?”

You didn’t know the boy too well. You’d been his assigned partner on a few school projects here and there, and he’d always been friendly when you passed him in the halls, but he’d always seemed a bit reserved and shy around you.

You took a moment to draw your gaze away from him to look around the greenhouse. A silver and green Slytherin blanket was spread out neatly across the ground by Enzo’s feet. A proper wicker picnic basket, two crystal glasses, and a bottle of wine sat on the edge of the blanket, waiting.

Enzo himself had a green carnation pinned to the pocket of his shirt, tied with a lavender ribbon. You grinned.

“You did all this?”

He must’ve misinterpreted your tone of surprise, because he immediately panicked. “U-um, yes. Yeah. Yep. Sorry. I should’ve asked before trying to court you, right? Oh— rats, I didn’t I ask— I just thought you were so handsome, and nice, and— and I didn’t really know how to ask you out—” he rambled nervously.

“Thank you,” you interrupted, for his sake. “This is adorable.”

Enzo’s face was bright red, and you couldn’t help but grin at the sight.

“Why flowers?”

“Oh! Uh. Big part of pureblood culture. Flowers. Daphne, Astoria, Pansy…all flowers.”

You nodded, still grinning.

Enzo cleared his throat awkwardly and motioned to the blanket. “Please, sit.”

You settled down on the soft blanket across from him, sitting cross legged. At your perpetual grin, he seemed to relax a bit.

“Y’know,” you started, as he uncorked the wine and started pouring the glasses, “I think this is the perfect place for a first date.”

His hands trembled as you said that and he looked up at you hopefully. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you grinned. “Perfect place for romance to bloom.”

“That’s a terrible pun.”

“I know. Can you be-leaf it?”

“That’s worse.”

“Be nice. I’m a budding comedian.”

“Shut up.”

“Why don’t you use your tulips to make me?”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

[please comment if you enjoyed this! this author needs constant positive reinforcement, like a literal toddler!]

[livinginshambles]

Preview: No, you listen to me | James Potter x Fem!Reader

Pairing: James Potter x Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Summary: Aftermath of when you ran away from the Yule ball, cinderella style. after the Christmas holidays, both of you return to hogwarts with different objectives. James tries to find out who you are. You try to make sure he never will.

Note: Not proofread, grammar mistakes, probably. I feel bad for making you guys wait so long, but uh, full fic will take me a moment.

Masterlist Part one. Part three

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

Your eyes scanned across the parchment, rereading James’ apology, but all you could really feel was disappointment and anger. What was even the point of trying to prove anyone wrong? You leaned back against the cushions of the armchair and pulled your knees up, wrapping your arms around them to steadily lock them in place. Then you let your head drop.

You pressed your watering eyes into your knee, effectively letting your pajama pants soak up any tears that threatened to fall. You gently rocked yourself back and forth while you tried to clear your mind. You wouldn’t let any of this get to you.

A hand pressed itself to your back, right between your shoulder blades. “Let’s get you out of here,” Regulus spoke up. His tone was hard, but only because of his clenched jaw when he thought back to how you had run off with a betrayed look. The second he realized it was James who was the mystery guy, he had kept a close eye. He knew things wouldn’t end well with those prejudiced twats, and he was right.

You pathetically looked up at him, and Regulus didn’t bother to hide his grimace at the sight of your face.

“Don’t exaggerate you arse,” you mumbled and shoved him light-heartedly.

“Back at you,” Regulus shot back. Then he sighed and motioned for you to scootch over so he could squeeze himself to fit in the armchair with you. “I know you. And I know you know what my brother and his friends are like. Why are you so disappointed?”

You stared at the lit fireplace, lost in thoughts, and eventually shrugged when Regulus nudged you out of your train of thoughts.

“I guess- I really liked the guy on the other side of the paper. And I really hoped that maybe he’d be in there somewhere. And I suppose that for a moment I actually thought James Potter was alright, you know?”

Regulus scrunched his nose in distaste. “Not at all, but go on.”

You shook your head in amusement at him, but let your eyes soften. “I’m sorry Reg,” you whispered.

“What for?”

“Making you listen to me whining about a guy that I know you have personal issues with.” You decided not to mention out loud, the fact that those personal issues included the way Sirius had left Regulus behind in that household, escaping to live with the Potters and going as far as publicly calling James his true brother. Found family, he had proudly said.

Regulus knew what you were referring to. He smiled bitterly. “Well, brothers are overrated anyways. I’d much rather have a sister,” he said while nudging you again.

You hummed in contemplation. “I don’t know Reg; I’ll have to disagree with you on this one. I’d much rather have a brother than any number of sisters.”

“How convenient for us.”

“Very convenient indeed,” you smiled happily.

Regulus got up suddenly and turned to you with a stretched out had. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I meant what I said, you know. Let’s get you out of here. I do recall you promising me tea at your new apartment.” He looked at his pocket watch. “Well, it’s 5 o’clock in the morning, and the first train leaves at 6. What’s the difference between leaving in the evening or right now.”

“You absolute champ.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

You laugh whole-heartedly and stuff the parchment in your transfigurations book. You and Regulus took the first train and left Hogwarts behind for the Christmas holidays. A break would do you good. Godric knows you needed to get James off your mind.

James carefully placed the glass slippers in his suitcase and covered them with a few sweaters just in case. He had caught the elves recklessly throwing suitcases into the storage compartment of the Hogwarts express before. You’d think that the use of magic would come in handy for tasks like this, but no.

“Prongs, I got you this?” Sirius pushed a sheet of bubble wrap into James’ arms. James offered Sirius an appreciative look.

After thoroughly explaining everything, from the moment when he found the parchment, to who you were and why he decided that he wanted to become someone you would approve of. Sirius had pieced the rest together and apologized to James for leaving such a shit impression on his mystery date.

James sheepishly pointed at his own solution. “Should I change it?”

“Well, I mean did you see how the elves throw around with our luggage?”

James mirrored Sirius grin. This break truly came at a perfect time. After all, James would let you occupy his mind as much as he needed to find out who you were.

Full fic.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Witness

"Specimen '873 is starting to disappoint me. He was showing such promise. These numbers, however?" My keeper muttered to himself, distaste painting his face as he watched the feed in front of him. "Unacceptable for a battle class. He might as well be spare biomass at this point."

He was supposed to be wearing his glasses, not holding them. They may have been called "reading" glasses? But they were not, technically, just for that. They also had a blue light filter. Helped with headaches and eyestrain. He just hated wearing them because he thought they made him look old.

A God Forbid ANYTHING remind him of the passage of time.

He did NOT take it kindly.

I managed to avoid THAT landmine by virtue of having witnessed his receiving them. An "incident" that resulted in his head slamming against a screen. Protocol demanded he get checked. In the process, they discovered his eye sight was declining. It was a... bad day. I brought him things to break and stayed very, very quiet.

He bounced back fairly quickly, though. Once the arrogant researcher who had arranged for the incident to even OCCUR? Tried to come lord his "weakened old man" status over him. It was one thing to "accidently" let the battle class get unfettered access to weapons before loyalty train. But to be dumb enough to step into his lab, call him weak, and gloat about it?

Dr. Raghnall Periculum was many things.

But "unwilling to bludgeon a man to death with the nearest object" was not one of them.

He was dangerous like that. Murderous. It came and went like shifting storms, all you could really do was learn to read the triggers. Get good at knowing when to back up. When to hold really, REALLY still. After all... this was a lawless, immoral place. No one here could or WOULD stop him.

They were all just as bad.

Gritty Sci-Fi Otome games are... a lot less fun to LIVE. To be honest? They are actually pretty horrifying. Traumatizing, really. Hellish. As in, I am pretty sure this is a futuristic version Of Hell (but that is a personal opinion). I regret EVER playing a single damn one. But... BUT? I CLING to the knowledge I gained from it. So I can not regret it completely. Because through them? Through KNOWING this world?

I KNOW this will end. KNOW we will be free. That these monsters will pay for what they've done. The epilog promises a golden age. A beautiful, peaceful dawn after this long and terrible night, filled with horrors. I just... I just have to survive. Hold on. Keep my head down and pray.

I may be trapped in hell, but I'm not broken.

We will be Free.

I have SEEN IT.

Sometimes the greatest defiance is just refusing to die. Just keeping hope alive. I... I can do that. May not be able to fight my way out. Not smart enough to hack or sabotage these nightmares. But I can stay alive. I... I can do that. Bear witness, that someday I may stand against them in trial. Record. So no one is forgotten.

It doesn't feel like enough. I feel tired and angry. Hateful and small. But for the sake of my sanity? I make myself feel nothing. Compartmentalize. I've... I've become unfortunately quite good at it. Good at a lot of terrible things. Like placating. Making myself small. Being invisible. A retail smile. Being one with the furniture.

See, just like the poor souls on the screens in front of him? I'm a Clone. Of who? I have no idea. None of us do. They use old DNA databases. From when it was first commercially available, I think. Like those ancestry tests. Here it was squirrelled away, kept for later use. Which... was us.

My template has been dead for centuries, I think. Or perhaps? She would have considered herself my mother? I hope she would have, strange as I turned out to be. We are all children of the dead. It'd be nice to think they'd have wanted us.

Dr. Periculum's cup lifts lightly as he take a drink, more focused on his work then anything else. That heft is about midway point. I've discovered if I begin brewing now, it will be done by the time his cup is empty and he wants more. A glance at the closest screen gives me the time. Food too, is a good idea.

He likely won't eat it. But if it's there? The chances are higher. And when he comes out of his focus, it'll be available. Less chance of him getting irritated by hunger.

On a well practiced route through piles of notes and projects I know better then to touch, I quietly make my way to the coffee machine. Begin another round of abomination the caffeine tar. It is, quite honestly, a wonder he hasn't accused me of trying to poison him to a heart attack.

A few granules of salt, a bit of cinnamon, some expensive fatty creamer, aaaand? There. Unholy bitterness gone. "Just" a cup of liquid tar so potent it could make a rhino taste time.

I also grab one of the meat pies and put it on a little paper plate.

Ah... what has my life become? That I am so well practiced in make snacks for a monster? Picking them up, I don't dare answer that. That way lies madness. Don't think about it. It can wash out in therapy. After. Because there WILL be an After. There HAS to be an After.

Careful steps and...? Just as I estimated. He just ran out. I nearly silently tap the paper plate down to the edge of the table then slide it forward, with-in ease of reach, but not too close. Then I swap the cups. Go to step away. Only to freeze. As, out of the corner of my eye, I see one of his hands briefly leave his keyboard to make a nearly dismissive "one moment" gesture.

Stay put. Don't move. I'll address you when I'm done with my, more important, thoughts. I feel the flash of fear, of panic, but let it go. There is nothing I can do. I will be hurt or I won't be hurt. There is no use suffering twice, through speculation and fear, I remind myself. Force my mind empty and pleasant. Retail smile. Happy to serve.

He finishes. Leans back, dissatisfied with some project or other, and finally slips on his glasses. Gestures imperiously for the cup in my hands. I do not question of course, merely hand it to him. He takes it, passes it to his other hand, and sets it aside. Then, casually, leans slightly over and wraps a thickly muscled arm around my waist. Dragging me off my feet and into his lap.

"You know, girl? B-21873 really was, actually quite promising. I was starting to think I'd keep him. Decent speed, good stamina, excellent problem solving. His test scoring was exceeding all expectations. Really thought I might have gotten you a little friend to play with. A gaurd so I could send you out on some chores safely. But no, he just HAD to be a failure." He said, leaning forward to grab his cup.

I was crushed awkwardly close. Could feel every moment. Acutely aware of his woody and sea air cologne, the coffee on his breath as words were spoken far to close, the beating of a heartbeat I could feel against my arm. Hyper aware of him. Why was I in his lap? This felt dangerous. I should not be in his lap.

Between sips, he turned his head and pressed his lips to my temple, not kissing... somehow worse. Just... just breathing me in. Slow, deliberate, and deep. Like savoring a scent, a sensation. The subtle back and forth, as though rubbing his lips against my hair. Enjoying the feeling against sensitive skin. It could almost be a cuddle on any other man. It took everything I had not to shudder.

"Unlike you of course. You pet, could never disappoint me. If these rejects tried even half as hard as my perfect darling girl? The world'd be a better place." He paused his almost nuzzling. To simply rest his head against mine, pulling off his glasses so he could tuck his head closer. His breathe was hot against my ear. His voice gravel and distain as it spoke of others.

"It's disgusting. Like they don't even try. We spend countless resources breeding, feeding, and training them... for what? Failure? I'm starting to think those bastards are deliberately sending me bad specimens."

Every word he said was horrifying. I could not cry. Dare not. But my heart screamed for those poor souls. They were just kids. Trapped in hell. Tortured from birth. Disposed of when they no longer met some arbitrarily impossible anime standard. If I turned my head, even slightly, I KNEW, I would be faced with screens of untold suffering. Feeds of "testing". So called training. Autopsy reports and datapoints.

Lists of who... who had been deemed "not good enough".

Who were scheduled to become "recycled biomass".

But if I looked? I would weep for them. And that? That was dangerous right now. Right NOW? I had to be pleasant company. A child's doll to be dragged around. No thoughts, no differing opinions. Preferably no opinions at ALL. Just warm and huggable. Soft. A beloved pet who serves coffee and brings things when told. Endure. I just... I must simply ENDURE.

The night will end. Dawn will come. Believe in her.

J-Just empty your head... and Believe In Her.

An alert pops up. I can hear it on a screen somewhere behind me. Dr. Periculum turns his head to look, reaching for his snack. Freezes. Then, a sharp bark of laughter. It's violent, like the strike of a lightning bolt, jostling me. The ones that follow just as harsh. He's not a man that laughs often. And it's not a kind sound.

Filled with schadenfreude, his laughter is like the vicious barks of hunting hounds. The shots of a weapon. A short and harsh to the ears sound, over and over. Delight in the suffering of an enemy. The fall of a rival. It strikes through his body like seizures. Making him lean forward to read. Brace against the desk, tighten his grip around me, widen the brace of his legs.

Glancing up, his eyes are alight with manic glee. His grin is vicious.

He looks Feral.

"Well, well, WELL! What do we have HERE?! Is that Jack ANDERSON'S facility I see? Mr. 'Master of the genome' himself? Looks like SOMEONE got AHEAD of themselves! Ha!" Raghnall cackles spinning his chair so I can see the screen. Leaning back to grab his cup and toast with it. "Look what we have here, pet! Some fucking KARMA! I knew that little shit wasn't worth the paper his degree was printed on! See this? THIS is what happens when you can't control your own damn compound!"

"Rest in PIECES, you worthless little SHIT!"

I sat. Frozen. As Dr. Periculum laughed and laughed, his mood viciously pleased. Because... because I recognized that facility. Chapter Two. There was an animation that played. The... the BREAKOUT! Joy filled me. Like the first rays of dawn. That was HER. S-she was OUT! Free! She DID it! Oh god... oh god she was COMING! It had finally BEGUN!

I caught myself. Barely.

My eyes felt a bit wet so I disguised it with a fake yawn. I dare not show empathy. NEVER show empathy. Keep it guarded like diamonds in your chest. If he thought, for even a moment, that I empathized with anyone but him. CARED about anyone but him? They wouldn't last the hour.

And it would be the longest, cruelest, hour in existence, as they died.

You make that sort of mistake exactly ONCE.

"Ah~ todays a GOOD day. And you know what we should do?" He hummed, nearly a coo as he spun us almost lazily around on his chair. In whimsical circles like a bored child. "We should celebrate. Ding dong, the fuckers dead~ HA HA! Not to mention? It's been entirely too long, pet, since I've spoiled you rotten. We should get a cake, hmm? You want a cake? Lil treat? Sweet lil treat for my girl?"

"I could get you that new dress I've been looking at. Bet you'll look like a classy lil princess, won't that be nice? Can even make it match the trackers I'm finishing up! No more uncomfy collars when we go out! Just pretty lil bracelets, ain't that nice?"

I force myself to smile. Nod. Ignore the fear and anger, the humiliation and helplessness. It's not time yet. Bid your time. You will LOSE your chance for True Freedom if you give in to your anger. Your hurt. Patience, THEN strike. Remember! Chapter two! There are FIVE.

It is COMING.

He stopped spinning, planting his feet on the floor. His manic grin softening. No less unhinged, less full of teeth, but perhaps the closest a man like him could come to loving. His eyes obsessive as the roam my face. Cataloging everything.

"You know, pet? You really might be might greatest creation. Best thing I've ever made or done. Anyone wants you? They'd have to pry you from my cold, dead hands. I'd burn EVERYTHING down. Kill just about EVERYONE." His voice was the sort of whispered confession meant for churches, not the heart of this hell he had built. It felt unholy. Dangerous.

Exactly like him.

"Once I figure how to take humanity to it's next stage? Reverse aging? Heck, even stop it. I promise, pet. Gonna take you with me. You're coming along for the ride. Straight to the end. Heat death of the universe. Well become GODS, pet. Live forever and a day. Bet you can't wait, huh?"

"Don't worry. The futures going be BEAUTIFUL. Just you wait."

[istharoth]

Lingering Presence

wc: 1.6k | fem-reader | not proof-read

Inspired by Haku's warding card!

She stares at the crane machine in distaste. She's all for having vending machines at Onsens but a crane machine too!? That's evil and smart. She's definitely going to play until she goes broke. 

"…I lost again." She falls to her knees, weakly holding the last token while Zenji assures her she wasn't bad at the game but the machine was stingy. 

"How many have you gone for?" Subaru tilts his head in pure curiosity. The Inspector had been at it for the past fifteen minutes so it likely wasn't that much money. 

"Fifteen tries," She mumbles, looking away, unwilling to meet his surprised gaze. "But the maiden lost all of it, alas!" Zenji sighed, resting his hand on his chest, much saddened by her loss. 

"Want to play a round?" She asks, offering him the token as she stands up. "Is it okay?" He asks, staring at the token as if it were an uncommon object. 

"Yup, it's fun once you get the hang of it." She grins, moving away from the stage. She watches with a smile on her face as Zenji teaches Subaru the controls, the duo trying their best to get a plushie. Well, since she's available, she might as well get some drinks.

Carefully sliding the door open, she walks down the halls. It was mostly empty, granted it was a family-owned onsen by none other than the Kusanagi Clan. Seriously, she knew he was rich but if he were on the same level as Jin, she'd have to wonder if Darkwick only allowed rich people to enter the school. 

She lightly jumps from the veranda to the grassy field. In the night sky stars glitter across the vast galaxy. 

The full moon glowed down at her. He leans against the wooden pillar, gazing at her in fondness. "The moon is beautiful, isn't it?" Walking slowly, he appears behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. 

"Wha-!?" She clenches her fist, twisting her body to land a punch on the perpetrator, only stopping when she figures it is Haku. "Violent, aren't we?" He grins, and retraces his arms, raising them in the air as if to signify defeat. 

"You could've announced your presence?" She questions back and he chuckles, "Guilty." Though he doesn't look guilty in the slightest. 

"Can Your Majesty please forgive this soldier who didn't know any better?" He does a curtsy and she tries hiding her bubbling giggles. "If the soldier vows to protect me, yes." He looks up at her, extending his hand towards her. She places her hand on top of his and he plants a kiss on it. 

"Now," He smiles at her radiantly, cheeks a bit flushed, "The vow can't be broken." She's done for. She's absolutely done for. She's not sure how much longer she can hide what she feels for him. 

He intertwines their hands, asking if they should head back in. She still needs to buy the drinks but she doesn't want to let go of him. She doesn't know if she'll get the chance again. "Let's go. I want to see if Subaru-Senpai got a plushie yet," She chuckles, ignoring the thumping of her chest. For now, forever she'll pretend as if it does not exist. 

When they enter the room, Zenji immediately takes Haku's attention and he lets go of her hand. She looks down at her hand, a tingly warmth felt from it. "Y/N-San, I finally got it!" Subaru appears in front of her, proudly displaying the plushie to her. 

"Woah! Congrats, Subaru-Senpai! It's so cute!!" She gushes before glaring daggers at the crane machine. "I think I might get one for Lyca," Subaru smiles, looking at the plushie and then walks back to the crane machine. 

"Heyy, don't spend too much." Haku sighs putting his hand on his hip as he watches Zenji and Subaru shoot for another plushie. "Once you start, you can't stop." She points, mirroring his actions. 

"That so?" He chuckles, taking out a small box from within his sleeves. "For you." He holds a small box towards her. In the transparent box, she could see earrings similar to his own. 

"Don't they look similar?" He points at his ear, giving her a huge grin. "When did you buy it…?" She asks, thanking him for the gift(?). 

"A while before we ate at the dango stand." He answers, asking if he could help her put them on. Nodding slowly, still a bit in shock he brought her something, she handed him the box. Opening it, he unclasped the earring and tugged at her earlobe gently. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body, she hoped he couldn't hear her heart. The ghoul senses weren't that good, were they?

It felt like minutes had passed, but it's likely only a few seconds passed since he clasped the earrings on her ears. He takes out his phone, handing it to her to look at her reflection. 

She can't take this anymore. She wants him to love her as she does. Desperately. 

Glancing at his earrings, she touches the tassel of the earring. It's as if they had bound the red string of fate themselves. Fate need not care for who they're supposed to love. Fate has no business in her love life, since she's locked hands with him, she's been his. 

"Thank you," She whispers and he hums, "Anything for you." 

It's been nearly a year since she was found in a train station. She doesn't remember what happened, except she was at a concert. However, she received news that the group had disbanded a year ago. In the year when she didn't remember anything, she returned home with only red tassel earrings. 

Just like clockwork, she reaches for the earrings. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she watches as the triple-knotted red earring dangles. She does not recall when she brought it or why she brought it- if she did, that is. 

It appeared from nowhere and every day she had to put it on. Her entire self feels unfamiliar if she doesn't. It's reminiscent of something too, something or someone she can't recall no matter how hard she thinks. 

She lets out a shaky sigh, walking back to her bed and falling backwards. She stares at the ceiling, the fan from above showering her with cold air. She remembers nothing from the past year, but somehow there's always a dull ache when she tries to recall. Something happened, something she wished she wouldn't forget. 

"Let's get to work," She gets up from her bed, continuing her morning routine. 

Despite getting lost at a train station for a year, according to the police, she uses it anyway. There's something about the specific station in Harajuku she can't wrap her head around. It's not just in Harajuku but also on the train heading to Tokyo Bay. 

She passes through the crowd, eyes on her phone as she changes the song playing from her playlist. It's from the band she liked but they disbanded. The world feels a bit unfamiliar as if she'd seen something that wasn't accessible to the rest of the world. 

A figure bumps into her and she looks up. He looks familiar, moreover, his earrings are similar to her own. "Oh, I'm sorry." He nods as if to apologize. Before he can get lost in the crowd, she grabs onto his sleeve. He turns around, eyes widening slightly and she stares up at him. She knows him. She's well aware of his presence, but she can't figure out who he is. 

"Have we met before…?" She asks, eyes stuck on his dangling earrings. It's the same as hers. It's pure coincidence. She should accept that but for some reason, she doesn't want it to be just a coincidence. 

He smiles at her, it's familiar. It's as if he were the very thing she couldn't remember. "I'm sorry, but maybe you have the wrong person?" His guilty tone doesn't match the light-hearted expression on his face. She immediately lets go of his sleeve, apologizing profusely. Somehow though, she doesn't think she can forget this strange encounter. 

"I couldn't say it last time but," She looked up and he was already staring at her. "They look good on you." She feels her face flush up and rubs her neck in embarrassment. 

"Thank you," She should ask what he meant by the first statement but looking at the complete look of fondness in his eyes, she doesn't think she should. 

"Then, I hope we'll see each other again, Your Majesty." He turns around, mixing in with the crowd. She can feel her chest bubble in excitement. She sprints forward, attempting to find him again but to no avail. He's someone she doesn't want to let go of, someone she definitely doesn't want to forget. 

"Met up with her?" A certain grim-reper asks, leaning against the station walls. "She still wears them," Haku mumbles, hiding his face with his arm and Rui chuckles. It's hard to see Haku lovesick again. Not that he doesn't understand. The Inspector's appearance was abrupt, she left a long-lasting impression but left just as abruptly. 

Haku Kusanagi had once sworn he wouldn't fall for her again. He'd only watch from afar as she lived her life without anomalies, without ghouls. He'd be content with just that. Had he known all of this would happen, he would've confessed before it was too late. He would've had her in his arms for just longer, he should've held her hand for longer. If he did all that, then maybe they wouldn't be strangers again.

[kikyoupdates]

Girlfriend-For-Hire ⭑˚🦋⭑ 𝟶𝟹

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

Hoping to try something new and earn a bit of money on the side, you join an app that lets people hire you for your dating services. The idea is pretty straightforward — you pose as the client's girlfriend for a brief period of time, and in turn, you receive payment. But you didn't foresee everyone getting so attached to you, and suddenly, they're no longer satisfied with a fabricated relationship.

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“This is from when we went to a cute coffee shop the other day. They have really good pastries there. I definitely recommend it.” 

“Aw, what a lovely picture,” Mary-Ann beams, leaning closer to you as you swipe through your phone’s gallery. “You two look very good together. You’re a great match.” 

You smile back at her, turning up the charm to the max. It’s a good thing you’re so handy with photoshop, because editing all these photos of you and Isaac together would have taken a newbie just about forever. But it’s helping your relationship seem that much more real, and most people can’t pick up on little discrepancies when it comes to edited photos anyways, not unless they’re glaringly obvious. 

Everyone finished their food a while ago, so you’ve just been sitting around the couch chatting with Isaac’s parents. The evening is just about over, and even though you know you shouldn’t get too ahead of yourself, you have good reason to believe that they are fully convinced you’re their son’s girlfriend. 

“Well, I think we should start heading out,” Isaac says, clearly signaling you with his eyes that he’s had enough and is ready to leave. “I’m burnt out from classes, and I don’t want to go to sleep too late tonight. Plus I still need to drive [Name] home.” 

Mary-Ann makes a big show of pouting. “Right. That’s too bad. I wish you two could have stayed for longer, but you’re both busy bees, aren’t you?” 

She just unironically said ‘busy bees’. That was kind of cute. 

Isaac stands up and pats you on the shoulder, and you quickly follow suit. While Michael certainly added quite a bit of tension to the evening, overall, you feel like you did your part. The situation was likely far less uncomfortable than usual thanks to you being here. You try to avoid imagining how Michael would have acted towards his son if there wasn’t a guest present. 

“I still feel like it was unnecessary to hide this from us,” Michael frowns, following you and Isaac to the front door. “You’ve finally found a girlfriend you can take pride in. Wouldn’t you want to show her off?” 

“She’s not an object,” Isaac scowls. “I’m not trying to parade her around as if she’s on display.” 

“You know that’s not what I meant. There’s nothing wrong with being proud of the person you’re with. Good grief,” Michael sighs. “You’re always so defensive.” 

Isaac turns away instead of responding. His freedom is right within his grasp, and you can tell he no longer has the energy to keep bickering with his father. 

You smile in an attempt to wrap the evening off on a high note. “Thank you again for having me over. Dinner was really good, and I had a lot of fun getting to know you guys.” 

“It was our pleasure,” Mary-Ann beams. “You’re more than welcome to drop by as often as you like. We’re happy to have you here.” 

“Isaac can be difficult, but don’t give up on him,” Michael says. “He needs someone like you in his life to set a good example.” 

You smile again and nod before saying your goodbyes. Isaac is already halfway out the door and waves listlessly without looking back, much to Michael’s distaste. 

It’s finally over. You did your part, and you have reason to believe that neither of his parents suspected a thing. 

Once he’s safely out of earshot and well within the comfort of his car, Isaac lets out a heavy sigh. 

“God, I’m tired,” he says. “That went on forever. Sorry. I probably should have been a bit more transparent about how awkward things are with my dad. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that.” 

You shake your head. “Don’t apologize. I figured your parents would be pretty strict, based on what you told me. It seems like they don’t doubt our relationship at all, which is good. And I prepared a lot in advance, so that definitely helped.” 

“You did great,” Isaac smiles. “I really appreciate it. I wish I’d found this app earlier so that I could have gotten them off my back ages ago.” He pauses for a moment, then clears his throat. “Or… actually, maybe it’s a good thing I joined when I did. You mentioned you signed up just recently, right? If I’d joined earlier, I wouldn’t have found you. I think it all worked out for the best.” 

He’s probably just being polite and praising you for a job well done, but nevertheless, his words make your cheeks feel hot. 

“Right,” Isaac blinks. “Time for your payment. I’ll do it in front of you so you don’t have to worry about being ripped off. I know we’ve only just met, but I promise I’m not the kind of person to do something like that.”

“I know,” you nod encouragingly. “Just from the few hours we’ve spent together, I can tell. You’re obviously a good guy. I wish your dad would cut you some slack.” 

Isaac blinks again, but this time it looks like he’s resisting the urge to cry. 

He chuckles shakily, composing himself quickly enough. Not long after, you receive a notification that new funds have been deposited into your account. 

So, it’s official, then.

You’ve just been paid to act as someone’s girlfriend.

“Five stars,” Isaac mumbles, no doubt giving you a review on the app. “I honestly don’t think I could do this kind of job. It takes a certain kind of person to be able to pull it off, especially since you have to improvise on the spot and you never know what’ll happen next. It’s impressive that you stayed so calm throughout the evening. Most people that meet my dad end up ripping their hair out.” 

“It wasn’t that bad,” you reassure. 

Especially since I’m used to my own dad being a massive prick.

Isaac smiles. “Well, either way, I really appreciate you helping me. It was worth every dime. Also… I mentioned before that this was only going to be a one-time thing, but sometime in the future, would you be open to meeting with them again? I don’t see them super often, but I just wanted to know if you’re willing to put yourself through this torture again. If not, I can’t really blame you.” 

“Sure,” you say. “As long as you give me a heads-up, it should be fine. It seriously wasn’t as bad as you’re thinking. If it helps you out, I’d be happy to do it.” 

Isaac’s smile brightens, and he nods enthusiastically. It’s clear that he’s in a much better mood now that he’s dealt with an unpleasant situation. The money is nice, but getting to see that blissful expression of his is even better, somehow.

Even though the job is technically over, Isaac goes out of his way to drive you home and thanks you once again for helping him. He waits for you to walk into your apartment safely, which you appreciate, and you wave goodbye to him for the last time.

As you walk up the steps to your unit, you contemplate the day’s events.

Isaac was clearly satisfied with how you did, and it seemed like his parents were pretty fond of you as well. You’re not sure how long he plans to deceive them for, but for the time being, it seems to be doing the trick.

Considering this was your very first day on the job, you feel like it went really well.

And it looks like you’re going to keep riding this high for a while longer, because shortly after you get home, a notification catches your eye. 

You blink several times in quick succession. Wait, seriously? You’re still fresh off your first day of work and there’s already another person who wants to hire you? 

Hardly much time has passed since you set up your profile, but if the offers continue to be this frequent, you might not even need to look for another job. 

You pause, then awkwardly clear your throat. 

I should stop getting carried away. This is only the second person who’s tried to request me. I don’t even know if I’ll accept them. 

Still, you feel confident after how happy Isaac was with your services, so you approach your new client with boundless optimism. 

He proceeds to send you a picture of him posing in front of a piece of street art which you unfortunately recognize. It’s the same one you’ve passed by several times while on campus. 

Shit. He goes to the same university as you? That could get a little awkward. 

It takes you a while to respond. Well… Ava did say before that some people are just looking for a bit of companionship from time to time. Maybe that’s the case for Callum? He might just be in a bad spot and needs someone to talk to.

As a matter of fact, it sounds almost too good to be true, but if he’s really serious about this, then this will be the easiest money you’ve ever made in your entire life. Unlike with Isaac, you won’t have to memorize a bunch of facts to try and deceive people into believing your relationship is real. You’ll be getting paid just to hang out with someone. On campus, no less, so you won’t even have to go out of your way. 

At the time, you deluded yourself into thinking that all Callum wanted was a friend, and that there was nothing more to it.

But of course, you were sorely mistaken.

“No way!” Ava squeals. “You have another job already? Today? Here?” 

You glance around in a panic. Her outcry has drawn countless eyes towards the two of you, and since you’re in a library, people aren’t happy with the loud distraction. 

“Shh,” you urge, pressing a finger to your lips and gesturing for her to be quiet. “Not so loud. I also don’t want people to know that this is technically a job. But yeah, this guy goes to the same university as us. He said he didn’t need me to act like his girlfriend and said it was fine to just be his friend instead.” 

Ava giggles. “Sorry, sorry. But wow, that sounds awesome! Not only do you get paid, but you don’t need to do anything too crazy either. This guy must be pretty laid back. What’s his name?”

“I’m not sure if I should be telling you,” you frown. “He probably doesn’t want other people knowing that he paid for my time. I don’t know all the details, but things might not be going so well if he needs to hire a friend through an app rather than confiding in a real one. Out of respect for his privacy and personal situation, I think I should keep this to myself.” 

“Oh, come on,” she whines. “You’re just teasing me at this point. You told me about Isaac, didn’t you? And if you didn’t want me to ask, you shouldn’t have mentioned that you had a new job right on campus!” 

“I only told you because you were trying to hang out later when I’m supposing to be meeting with him.” 

“But still!” 

She balls her hands into fists and huffs—a bit too loudly, it seems, because several people turn around and openly glare at her. 

Ava flashes them a sheepish smile, then looks back at you with big, imploring eyes. “Pretty please? With a cherry on top? I just want to know his name and what he looks like. You know I won’t go blabbing to anyone. If I ever pass by the two of you hanging out, I promise not to let it slip that I know he hired you. Haven’t I always been a woman of my word?” 

To her credit, she’s really good at keeping secrets. Trust is important in all relationships, not just romantic ones, and the fact that the two of you are so transparent with each other is one of the main reasons your friendship has lasted this long. 

“Fine,” you eventually give in, and Ava dramatically pumps her fist in the air. People are still looking at her, so they must think she’s got a few screws loose. Well, not that she seems to mind.

You pull out your phone and swipe the app open. 

“His name is Callum,” you say. “He’s a year older than me. He mentioned he took a gap year after high school so he started a bit later than we did. I don’t know too much else about him, but he didn’t have any specific requests or ask me to prepare anything, so it sounds like we really are just going to be hanging out.” 

Ava studies the profile attentively. “He’s pretty hot,” she remarks. “I feel like he’s got that mysterious kind of bad boy vibe that most people are really into. Well, I personally think nice-looking guys like Isaac are better. Or my amazing boyfriend, of course.” 

“Should I tell him he was just an afterthought on that list?” you tease. 

“Oh, shush. He knows I love him. I’m just speaking objectively. None of these guys are ever going to make me act out.” 

You chuckle softly. Callum is attractive, that much you can admit to, but it’s comforting to know that you can just be yourself and take it easy around him. He isn’t expecting a practiced performance or anything. You actually almost feel guilty accepting the money. If you end up having fun, isn’t it basically just a meet-up with a friend? 

“I can pretty much read your mind,” Ava snorts. “Don’t feel sorry for him. We don’t know why he feels the need to do this, or what exactly is going on in his life. Like you said, there’s no way to know the details. He’s the one who offered you money in exchange for your time, so you have no reason to feel guilty about it.” 

“Yeah… that’s true,” you nod. “At least I’m helping people, one way or another. But I feel like people don’t usually help others expecting money in return…” 

“That’s not true. So many different jobs involve helping people, but it’s not like people can just work for free. We can’t help that we need money to survive. Seriously,” she sighs, patting your back in reassurance, “you’re way too nice. Going out of your way to help a total stranger isn’t something the average person does, and besides, you’ve got student loans and tuition to pay. You’re dealing with your own shit, and so is he, right?” 

Perhaps it’s because this job sounds so much easier than the previous one. At least in Isaac’s case, you had to prepare ahead of time and maintain a convincing performance in an awkward and relatively stressful environment. It felt like you actually earned your pay. 

Well, it’s too late to back out now. I guess I shouldn’t keep beating myself up over it. If I end up having fun while working, where’s the harm in that? As long as Callum’s happy, that’s all that matters. 

You smile back at Ava. As always, she’s right. You’re lucky to have a friend like her, who pushes you to step out of your comfort zone and try new things. Without her, you’re sure you would be missing out on all kinds of interesting experiences. 

“I should get going now,” you say, already packing up your things.

Ava frowns. “Huh? So soon?” 

“We’re meeting on the opposite end on campus, and I don’t want to be late. And no, you can’t follow me and spy on us.” 

“[Name], please,” she laughs. “I do have some self-control. Plus, my classes start soon.” 

“It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve skipped class. I’m actually kind of scared to even ask what your attendance record is like.”

“Hey! I’ve been getting better lately, okay?” 

You zip up your backpack and laugh as you wave goodbye to her. You open up your phone to the app and check the last message you exchanged with Callum. The meet-up spot hasn’t changed, and he hasn’t mentioned anything else since then. 

You wonder what you’ll be doing together. Well, since you’re meeting at a cafe, you can start off by grabbing some coffee and sitting down for a chat, but it sounds like you both have a bit of time to kill before your afternoon classes. Maybe you can go on a stroll through the university gardens? Actually, he might already have something else planned. 

You’ve always been prone to overthinking, but you eventually reason that there’s no way to prepare for this, and hardly a point either. 

It’s just going to be a chill hangout session, and who knows? You might even get a new friend out of it. 

You thought for sure you would be the early one, but when you arrive at the cafe, you find that Callum is already waiting there. 

He spots you without a moment’s delay. 

“Oh, hey,” he grins. “You’re [Name]? Wow, you’re even prettier than in all your pictures. They don’t do you justice at all.” 

“Thanks,” you blush. “The same goes for you. Your pictures were nice, but you look even better in person.” 

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” he brushes off. He pauses for a moment, then his grin gets even wider. “Just kidding. Keep complimenting me as much as you want. I like it.” 

You chuckle awkwardly, and perhaps a touch nervously. He doesn’t really seem like the type of guy who doesn’t have any friends. He’s clearly extroverted, and charismatic, and between the two of you, you’re the one who’s visibly on edge. 

Again, there’s no point in wondering why he hired you. The point is that he did hire you, and you had better make sure he’s satisfied with his experience.

“Well, it’s nice to be meeting you in person,” you smile. “What did you want to do first? I guess we’ll start with some coffee?” 

“Yeah, I need coffee ASAP,” Callum nods. “I get cranky without it. It’s an inevitable side effect of being an insomniac. As you can probably tell.” 

He has discernible dark circles under his eyes, so you kind of figured he might be sleep-deprived. Quite frankly, he looks like the kind of person who subsists solely off coffee, microwaved meals, and cigarettes. 

Then again, that’s probably the case for most university students.

“Let’s head in,” Callum gestures. He stops in front of the door to smile back at you. “And thanks again for agreeing to my request, even though you don’t usually do this kind of thing on campus.” 

“Just as friends,” you feel the need to clarify. “As long as it’s just as friends, then there’s no problem.” 

Callum keeps smiling sweetly, but his pale eyes briefly glint with something akin to amusement.

Needless to say, you don’t pick up on it.

“Yep,” he beams. “Just friends. Anyways, I need my coffee. I’m basically dead on my feet.” 

You follow him inside the store, ordering your own coffee after he does. Since neither of you have classes anytime soon, you figure you might sit around and talk for a little while, so you head to one of the tables. 

Callum, however, stops you.

“Let’s sit outside,” he insists. “They’ve got tables there too. The weather’s nice today. I want to enjoy the sun.” 

“Oh, sure,” you nod.

There’s no reason to object. Spring is right around the corner, so it’s definitely been warming up lately. You sit down next to Callum and take a tentative sip of your coffee, exhaling happily as you lift your face towards the sunny sky. 

“This was a good call,” you acknowledge. “It’s relaxing, being able to drink good coffee and sit under the sun. I’m usually scrambling to finish my coffee in time for class. I definitely needed a change of pace.” 

Callum chuckles. “Yeah, you get it. I feel like people are always going a hundred miles a minute, but I’m just trying to take it easy and actually enjoy life. People seem to forget how to do that nowadays. It’s kind of a shame.” 

He starts sipping at his coffee, and you decide to focus on your own drink instead of disturbing him. You’ve only just met, but you’re already starting to feel more at ease. He really is laid back and chill. 

Yeah. Accepting his request was definitely the right call.

…or was it? 

“Callum?” 

Someone calls his name out of nowhere. Naturally, you turn towards the source, where a young woman is standing still as a statue, and for some reason, she looks absolutely flabbergasted.

Before you can even think twice about it, Callum wraps his arm around your shoulder, which makes the woman nearly pop a blood vessel.

You suddenly feel as though something is horribly wrong.

“Oh, hey Nadia,” Callum hums. “What’s up?” 

Nadia doesn’t say anything at first. Just like you, she’s in utter disbelief and is still struggling to process what’s happening. Callum holds you tight, hardly giving you any wiggle room, and something tells you that if you push him away right now, he won’t be happy about it. 

But even if you did push him away in time, you doubt it would have made a difference. Already, the damage has been done.

Nadia grits her teeth, expression turning venomous. 

“...who the fuck is she?” 

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[howtofightwrite]

thank you for the clear, honest response! but i will admit to being caught off-guard since i wasn't suggesting the scenario from the protagonist's point of view at all, but rather from an antagonist or villain sort of perspective. i went in with the assumption that it was the less morally upright person making violent actions (i.e kidnapping) and the hero protagonist experiencing the fallout.

your words felt very much like what i was trying to say in acknowledging that it's dangerous, but more concise; perhaps i simply was overzealous in crafting the scenario? i am sorry for giving the wrong impression.

it might be helpful to state that it was actually my only ask to this blog aside from this one; it has no connection to other inquiries regarding heroes taking violent action. i might have had the impression that a previous anon was writing a detective story of sorts, where the protagonist was dealing with opponents who wouldn't hesitate to use violence, and thougnt to state what i felt could be done to keep the protagonist's head relatively intact despite head injuries. my apologies for the broad assumption!

Yeah, without wanting to light you up this time, the problem with the scenario is a little deeper than I might have addressed in the previous comment. And, in fairness to you, that was a long ask, and Tumblr doesn't accommodate my preferences for how to fully respond to comments like that. (Which is to say, break it into pieces, and deal with each part independently.)

The problem you're running into is an idea that heroes and villains view violence from fundamentally different perspectives. In isolation, this isn't automatically a bad thing, but it does leave you vulnerable to engaging in some classic Saturday morning cartoon grade philosophy. “The bad guys only use violence because they're bad, but the good guys only use violence because they're good.”

Again, if this fully terminated in a discussion about how proportional use of force can be an appropriate, or sometimes even a necessary, response, that would be one thing. Unfortunately, a lot of writers stop at that point, and internalize a double standard for violence based on an artificial delineation that doesn't even exist in their characters' world.

There are a lot of reasons that the author can pull hard for their protagonists, and those will spill over onto the audience. The protagonist is (probably) the character the author identifies most with. As the primary PoV character, the protagonist is in the best position to advocate for their own thought process. Due to sheer exposure, and whatever adversity the protagonist has experienced up to that point, they audience is also likely to be more sympathetic to the protagonist's position.

This does mean, when your protagonist starts going over the line, your audience is going to be less critical of their actions. At least, up to a point. You can take this all too far, and lose your audience, which is part of where our cautions about violence come from. But that's an adjacent issue.

However, within your world, it's important to assess when, and how, characters use force based on who they are. And, in fairness to you, that was something you were partially conscious of. The critical hiccup was that the roles of protagonist and antagonist are agnostic to who these characters are in your world. People will use whatever tools are appropriate for completing their objectives, regardless whether you think they're the hero or villain. That includes, potentially, use of force.

The distinction I made poorly is that your kidnappers don't use force because they're the villains, but they use it because it's a critical tool for doing their job. I'm struggling to come up with a scenario where you'd have a human trafficker as the protagonist of your story, but it's not going to fundamentally alter their approach to violence, nor their methods. (Not saying the scenario is impossible, but it would run the risk of being extremely distasteful.)

Perhaps, a more palatable example would be an assassin. They're still popular as edgelord protagonists, and can just as easily be antagonists. However, they also do a fantastic job of illustrating that the hero or villain status doesn't (especially) alter the evaluation of whether they're a protagonist or antagonist. Leaving a large body count, in either case, simply means that that something got out of control, and in either case, this is someone who's been killing people.

Something that might seem like a non-sequitor at first, coming out of the Patreon Discord server last week, was a reminder that, when you're using the D&D alignment chart, you can absolutely end up with evil protagonists. Not even in the sense of villainous protagonists, like with The Godfather films and novel, but characters who are genuinely the hero of the story, and evil. My preferred example of this remains Jack Bauer (Keifer Sutherland) from 24.

The inverse is much rarer. Some Javier-style investigators probably fit the bill of good-aligned villains. Though, these are usually paired against criminal protagonists, or at least protagonists who've been framed or falsely accused.

The reason this tangent is relevant is twofold. First, it's important to remember that your protagonist can be evil. They can, absolutely, be a bad person. As mentioned earlier, because they're your PoV, they'll get some deference from the audience simply from being their primary point of access to the world. Second, concepts like good and evil may be far more determinative over their use of violence, but the idea of protagonists and antagonists exist independently of that. Who your characters are will have a much bigger impact on the degree of violence they'll be comfortable with inflicting.

Beyond this, there is a real problem for a lot of writers, who think about violence with that Saturday morning cartoon logic. It's absolutely fine to have extremely violent protagonists, however, the question you need to start with is whether that violence fits with who they are, outside of their role in the story you're telling.

Related to this, and it drives a lot of the, “I want a protagonist who doesn't kill people,” is the idea that your protagonist needs to be a good person. They don't. And having a protagonist who inflicts grievous harm on people, but stops short of actually killing them doesn't absolve them of the harm they're causing. You can argue that someone who tortures someone, “for good reasons,” and finishes with a mock execution is less evil than someone who does the same but simply executes their victim when they're done, but both of these are pretty evil acts across the board, and you'd be pretty hard pressed to argue that the former is fully innocent, when lasting harm has been inflicted upon their victim.

So, ultimately, as a general rule, knockouts don't work. It's a kind of moral hand-wringing that authors engage in because they're afraid of their characters being perceived as bad people, or because they want a consequence free way to close out a fight scene. Just like in the real world, knockouts don't really do what the author wants, because they're, at best, a deferment on future violence. The impulse to preserve your character's moral high ground is certainly understandable, but in most cases, this method will be detrimental to your work as a whole. It reduces the tension from future violence, as your reader now knows that there's an easy out with no lasting consequences. There are ways to have consequence free fights (such as characters managing to create an opening and escape), but the hard knockouts don't work as well as you might hope. I'd hesitate to call knockouts, “bad writing,” but they certainly open the door to some of our worst impulses as writers. Impulses we really need to resist, as they don't lead to better stories, just more contrived scenarios.

-Starke

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