#i swear up and down day in and day out that i hate disney i hate them i hate disney

[riality-check]

The eagerly awaited part 2 of the DILF!Steve concert saga is here!! Part 1, in case you missed it.

"You're not going."

"Come on! I haven't thrown up in an hour!"

"The drive to the venue is an hour and a half."

"Steve-"

"And if you throw up in my car-"

"Oh my God-"

"I'll kill you."

Steve doesn't need to see Dustin's eye roll in order to feel the full force of it through the phone.

"I'll just kill you. You'll have a headstone within the week that says Here Lies Dustin Henderson: Rightfully Murdered for Puking in Steve Harrington's Car," he continues as he packs Capri-Suns into the cooler for the car ride.

He doesn't remember ever being that thirsty as a kid, but if Anna wants strawberry kiwi, Anna gets strawberry kiwi. It helps that it's Steve's favorite flavor, too.

"I'd need a big ass headstone to fit all of that," Dustin snaps.

"Your big-ass ego would demand no less, shithead," Steve shoots back.

"Swear jar, Daddy!" Anna calls from her room, across the house because while she doesn't listen to Steve when he's right in front of her, she can hear him break the swear jar rule from halfway across the world.

He zips up the cooler, fishes a quarter out of his pocket, and throws it into the half-full soup can next to the stove.

(A quarter doesn't mean much, but Anna doesn't know that. The day Steve teaches that kid about inflation is the day his pockets become permanently empty.)

"Did she just swear jar you?" Dustin asks from over the phone.

"You baited me into it."

"I did no such thing."

Steve rolls his eyes. "You're not coming, though, are you?"

Dustin sighs, and, for all his teasing, Steve does genuinely feel bad. "I still feel like if I breathe wrong, I'll hurl, so, no. I don't think I'll manage the car ride, nevermind the actual show."

"Sorry dude."

"Don't be. Some dickhead will live stream the whole thing on Instagram, anyway. I'll live vicariously through them."

Steve snorts and picks up the cooler. He got Anna dressed beforehand, so it's just a matter of getting her to stop playing with whatever toy she dug up - Play-Doh has been the fixation of the week - in her room so they can go.

"Besides," Dustin continues, and Steve hates where this is going. "Anna loved the show, and you've got a reason-"

"Nope," Steve says, knocking on Anna's door. "Don't finish that sentence."

"All I'm saying-"

"I know what you're gong to say, which means you know my answer. I don't date."

Anna opens her door. From the little Steve can see inside, there are at least three containers of Play-Doh open and strewn across the floor. He thinks her Barbies are involved in it somehow.

"Time to go," Steve says, and he thinks, Please don't let there be Play-Doh in the Barbie hair.

"Five more minutes," Anna tries.

"Nope. Clean up and roll out."

"Hi, Anna," Dustin says through the phone.

"Uncle Dusty!" Anna shrieks, and she starts jumping up and down. "Are you comin', too?"

Dustin sighs, and Steve can't tell if it's at the nickname or if he's still cursing the universe. "No, but you and your dad have a great time, okay?"

"Can you, can you tell Daddy I should get five more minutes?"

Steve raises his eyebrows at her. Anna, to her credit, ignores him wonderfully.

"If you clean up," Dustin says, because he's actually Steve's favorite person right now, "you get to do more headbanging at the concert."

Anna gasps like Steve didn't already tell her that earlier today, and she gets to work on putting her toys away. Steve helps, of course, and he finds that there is, in fact, Play-Doh in two of her Barbies' hair.

Fun. They're going to turn into Buzzcut Barbies when Anna goes to sleep because he can already tell that they are the furthest thing from salvageable.

But that doesn't matter right now. What matters is getting Anna in the car, deploying the first two of many strawberry kiwi Capri Suns from the cooler, and making the drive to the venue, which Steve does with minimal road rage and accompanied by the Disney radio station.

Success by all metrics, really.

Dinner might as well be now, so Steve shells out a truly disgusting amount of money for overpriced chicken nuggets and fries at the venue. Anna will only eat half her portion but say she's hungry later, but that's what the snacks and water Steve smuggled in via his jacket are for.

They get to their seats, dinner finished up, just as the lights go down for the first opener. Steve looks to his left, half-expecting Eddie and his friends to be there before remembering that they won't be.

He tries not to feel too disappointed. He fails miserably.

The seat next to him, however, isn't empty. There's a note taped to the back of it, one addressed to Steve and Miss Anna, so Steve feels alright taking and opening it.

At the top, there's a messily scrawled phone number. Underneath, it says:

Here's my number. Probably a bad idea to call with all the noise. Texting works, though you should do that after the show. I'll be a little busy until then.

-Eddie

Steve puts the note in his pocket, puts Anna's ear defenders on, puts his own earplugs in, and looks at the stage, where-

Hang on.

He squints at the stage, where four guys have started playing a song that, frankly, sounds too much like literally all the music Steve listened to yesterday for him to care about all that much. The drummer is pretty small, with wild, curly hair. The bassist looks familiar. The lead singer, who is very talented but not to Steve's personal taste, also looks familiar. And the guitarist-

No way. No way in hell.

It's a total coincidence. Lots of guys have long, curly hair and heavy jewelry and big eyes and are wearing formal wear, for some reason, and catch Steve's eye, and-

"Thank you for such a great welcome!" the guitarist says, and his smile totally isn't doing anything to Steve, thanks very much.

Anna stops moving, where she's standing next to Steve, and climbs up into his lap to get a better look at the stage. She looks out, then back at Steve, then out, then back at Steve, making a face as confused as Steve feels.

Some days, he thinks he ended up with a clone, not a kid.

"I'll get off the mic in a second. I only do the talking because Jeff," the guitarist points at the lead singer, who ducks his head, "is really shy."

Jeff. That name is definitely relevant, but Steve is a permanent resident of denial.

"We fought about what song we were going to include next in our set list, so much so that we didn't decide until yesterday and had to consult a tiebreaker."

Okay, maybe Steve is a less permanent resident of denial than he thought.

"So, thank you to Miss Anna, who did great at headbanging for her first time-"

Anna whips around so fast, her forehead nearly collides with Steve's jaw.

"And to Steve, who's a big fan of American Psycho."

At the song name, the crowd loses their minds, and if Anna wasn't sitting right in front of him, Steve would join them.

Because what the fuck is happening right now?

His question isn't answered. In fact, about five more questions pop up in its stead when, during the bridge of the song, Jeff puts on a clear rain jacket and picks up a prop axe.

Please, God, don't let this traumatize my kid, Steve thinks.

Anna, thankfully, doesn't get scared. When Jeff brings the axe down, again and again, Steve's weirdo daughter fucking smiles. And giggles. It's kind of cute, actually.

When the song ends, she turns back to Steve.

"That's Eddie onstage," Steve says, and saying it, somehow, makes it real.

"I thought so!" Anna says, and she turns back to watch the show. Steve puts an arm around her waist so she doesn't fall off his lap when she bangs her head to the music.

The rest of the songs, in Steve's opinion, are better than the opening song. They're more melodic, which Steve can definitely get behind, and each of them has a gimmick onstage, all based off of various horror movies. It's ridiculous, but also really, really cool.

And Eddie, onstage, because it is the same guy who flirted with him and was so sweet to Anna yesterday, is really, really hot.

Steve has never had a thing for guitarists before. He's never had a thing for musicians before. Hell, until a year ago, he didn't realize he had a thing for men.

Eddie is. Uh. Yeah. Really doing it for him.

Steve doesn't know whether it's his enthusiasm, or the way he moves, or seeing his hair tied up, or the fucking dress pants and suspenders, or just his hands, but he does know he has to get himself in check because this is an all ages show and he's here with his daughter.

He already knows he can't add these songs to his grading playlist, not when they're accompanied by visuals of Eddie playing his guitar.

Sweet Jesus.

"Alright, that's our set!" Eddie says. "Thanks, y'all, for sticking around for us, and let's give it up for the next act!"

The crowd, including Anna and Steve, cheer as they exit and the lights go up.

Steve fishes his phone out of his pocket, fully intending to add Eddie's number to his contacts, and is greeted by not one, not two, but sixteen missed calls from Dustin Henderson.

Naturally, Steve calls him back. "Who died?"

"What the fuck?" Dustin yells, and Steve just puts the phone on speaker to save the rest of his hearing. "Did Eddie fucking Munson just personally thank you from the stage?"

"Swear jar, Uncle Dusty!" Anna says.

"Sorry," Dustin says. "But Steve. Answers. Now."

"How do you even-"

"Instagram live. Is Eddie the guy you were telling me about yesterday?"

Steve takes his phone off speaker. Prior experience tells him that this conversation has a less than zero chance of staying PG, nevermind PG-13.

"Yeah," Steve says. "He is."

"The one who flirted with you, and you forgot to ask for his number."

"Well, I have it now."

"What?" Dustin shrieks, and Steve is incredibly thankful that he didn't take his earplugs out.

"He left me his number on the seat."

"Text him."

"I was going to, until I saw that you called me sixteen times."

"Jesus Christ, Eddie Munson was flirting with you."

Steve rolls his eyes and hands a pack of gummy bears to Anna when she taps his arm. "He could have just been nice. I don't even know if he's into guys."

"Have you looked at him?"

"Wow, Dustybuns, I didn't know you were homophobic."

"I think it's the complete opposite of homophobic to try to get you laid."

"Hanging up!" Steve shouts because a part of him will never see Dustin as any older than thirteen, and no thirteen year old should ever say that.

"Text-"

Steve hangs up the call. "Can I have a gummy bear?"

"No," Anna says, mouth full, in her seat, legs swinging.

"I bought them."

She shrugs. "You gave them to me. Mine now."

Steve stares. She stares right back.

He sighs and opens a new pack of gummy bears.

With his mouth full of sweet Haribo corpses, Steve takes out the note and adds Eddie to his contacts. Before he can overthink it, he sends him a message:

I guess I don't have to ask you what you do for a living. Just so we're even on that front, I'm a teacher, and Anna's full time job is preschool.

He tucks his phone back into his pocket and focuses on making this a good experience for Anna, who somehow wormed her way into a conversation with the intimidating-looking couple sitting next to her.

Because it's totally not like a literal rockstar is going to text him back. Right?

Part 3!!

[simping-on-the-daily]

Claws, Katanas, Compassion and Ketamine

Summary: You were the link between Vanessa and Wade during their breakup. They get back together, creating the perfect triangle. And then Wolverine shows up too, because you totally live in a suite apartment that can fit everyone.

Notes: God I love poly, mutant!reader, gn!reader, I wrote this in one day and thirty minutes last night and I’m pretty sure it’s gonna be obvious

Warnings: Gets real suggestive near the end but it's a fade to black, typical Deadpool content, from swearing to sex, reader does drugs and is very unhinged Wade’s just worse, not betaread we die like Worstie’s X-Men

The three of you ‘broke up’ in your shitty but homey apartment. Vanessa knew that her death caused Wade to try and kill himself numerous times, and dying shook her up a bit. After being rejected by the Avengers, Wade spent too much time hating himself and wondering where he went wrong, unintentionally neglecting his relationship with both of you

You were the red rope, the link, the buckle on the belt, it seemed. Shit got messy, Wade assumed too fast, but Vanessa wanted to be with you and you still loved Wade, vice versa. Vanessa tried to work stuff out herself, moving out, you stayed at the apartment, and Wade went to live with Blind Al again. You video chatted and texted everyday, and did your darndest to be by both sides.

Vanessa called you one day. She'd gotten the therapy, she said. Wanted to get back with Wade, try again at the least. You encouraged her to try and ask at Wade's surprise party, an extra present to add to the love in the late mutant’s life. Vanessa blew you kisses through the computer, and you mimicked catching them and placing the kisses on your cheek.

Then Wade got kidnapped, and came back two days later, claiming to have saved your entire universe, with some extra company.

“You must think saving the world's sexy, huh, Vanny?” You joked to Vanessa, lightly elbowing her after she and Wade made the promise attempted to try again over his second birthday dinner.

“Shut up and kiss me.” Vanessa put a finger to your chin in jest, and you accepted, embracing her with a gentle kiss to the lips.

“Already getting on it without me?” Wade interrupted, a metaphorical eyebrow raised in light-hearted query, poking in from the room you were in. Your response was simply to blow a kiss, which Wade quickly grabbed and pressed his hand against his cheek, swooning like a teenage girl. Vanessa simply giggled, and dragged you both back to join the party.

You all moved into Blind Al's apartment, in truth because you wanted to take Blind Al's coke. Wade said you couldn't, however, because that was the one thing Feige said they couldn't do. “What a pussy.” You grumbled, throwing the stash back into the floor where it belonged. And then Mary Puppins pissed on your leg, because apparently the nicest Deadpool hadn't potty trained his dog for some reason. Dick.

Oh, and the motherfucking Wolverine was here for some reason.

“Disney's gonna make him keep at this until he's 90, so we gotta give the senior citizen a house otherwise we'll get canceled for elderly abuse.” Wade 'explained’ to you in a whisper, and you nodded intently like you understood. Logan gave a middle finger in response.

He existed, that was for sure. You found him napping in the cupboard once because apparently Logan thought he was too good for the floor. He minded his business, staying out of the way. You accidentally caught him showering with the sweet smelling pink soap Wade and Vanessa shared and good god, those man’s abs were carved by Michalangelo. Fucking beautiful.

You, Wade and Vanessa sat down one night, Logan out at the bar that was full of football obsessed lunatics. And at the same time, you all spoke.

“I need that werewolf cock in me.”

“My god you guys, we need to get Peanut into bed with us, have you seen him?”

“We shouldn’t let him fourth wheel us, ask if he wants to be included.”

Vanessa glared at you both. You shrugged, while Wade did his best to look innocent.

The timing could’ve been worse, with you offering the deal with a Logan who was nearly hungover. Wade on the sofa like ‘one of those French girls’, Vanessa wore a casual hoodie with those really short shorts, and you were snorting heroin. Vanessa explained everything, and you’re pretty sure you hallucinated cartoon birdies as you spoke. Turns out, Wade did the same thing too, once. 

Logan accepted anyway, so he knew what he was going to get himself into.

Eventually, you grew to accept that Logan was a weasel, not a werewolf (which is so much cooler), and that you liked seeing him smile. Made you feel good, especially when he smiled because you were running his hands through his hair.

Like some fucked up hivemind, Vanessa and Wade shared your feelings too. However, unlike last time, Logan was the one who ‘confessed’, when the dude straight up purred in contentment when you tried to sit him down at your shitty table and well, you didn’t need to do much to gather the context as to why.

You and Logan shared the ‘Good’s Cabinet’, containing your most precious drugs and Logan’s more costly drinks, both saved for the most special occasions. You offered to take him to different bars that weren’t full of football frat-bros, and both of you found a new enjoyment in clubbing.

You would wear your best jewelry and drip, while Logan would wear an oversized jacket over his ‘wife beater’ shirt, worn over his Wolverine suit. Perfectly balanced, as all things should be.

“They asked for no pickles,” He hovered above you like your evil shadow clone, the worker at the front desk sweating on their head and probably under the collar.

“Haha, reference.” You jokingly poked Logan’s chest, before turning to the employee. “Don’t mind him. Never worked a day of retail in his life, doesn’t get the struggle.”

“Fuck you.” Logan added compulsory, though with the vitriol of a man whose moments of swearing have entirely lost their impact. You did get a new meal, no pickles included, so maybe the guard dog privileges are necessary.

Wade and you would often go out to the park on weekends, chilling on a bench as you gave your very persuasive remarks on all the cars Wade would sell on his job. He’d challenge you to get more ridiculous, and you'd do so with a wink and excessive references to sex.

“Get the boss to add truck nuts to all your autobots,” You suggested as you and Wade both got ice cream cones from the greatest truck of all time. “Would add some blitz to your bis, yaknow?”

“You wanna have a fivesome with our Honda Odyssey?”

“Give the objectums something good.” You shrugged, and Wade responded with a look to the audience, cosplaying as a bunch of trees in Discount Central Park.

Vanessa liked to drag you shopping, and you were content watching her search for the perfume bottles with the most ornate casing. God, she was so pretty, her hair put into that messy bun and casual dress.

“This bitch is ugly.” Vanessa said, holding up a silver bottle with a diamond bottletop. You heard a crunch, and tears quickly welled up in your eyes.

“Oh, so sorry sweetie, I wasn’t talking about you-” Vanessa held up her hands and shook them in a panic, putting the bottle back.

“It’s not that,” Your voice was barely a whisper. “I think I stepped on a ladybug.”

Vanessa looked down at the red flakes on the floor near your foot. “Sweetheart, that was an M&M.”

“Oh.” You stood there in silence for a few seconds, before turning back to Vanessa in the unnatural, freakish sort of way. “You getting anything from here?”

Vanessa smiled. “I think we should have an early lunch.” And you grinned too, as she rushed you over to the food court.

Your nights were chill nights, all four of you curled up on the bed, Mary Puppins curled beside Wade’s leg as he kept changing his position every few minutes. You would braid Vanessa’s hair as she scrolled through her phone, and Logan would lie down and accept head pats and bellyrubs with a content purr. Apparently weasels can do that.

Movie nights were great, too. Logan always got the best popcorn and you all had your designated seats. With a combination of heroin and ketamine you called ‘ketarin’, you snacked on your stash while you were all forced to share two bottles of Pepsi.

“Try it, babes,” You gestured your bucket of drugs towards Wade and Logan, the former sitting on the weasel’s lap as he tried to get comfy. “You’ll be able to smell sounds and taste colors. Stereotypical, I know, but life changing.”

Logan glared at you. “Get this fucker off me and I’ll consider it.”

“Wade, get off, I want Logan to taste my ketarin.”

The mercenary huffed in exaggeration, arms crossed. “No can do, sugar tits. Peanut here needs to learn his lesson.”

“What lesson?” You huffed. “Anyways, I forgive Logan, now get off I need him to try it.”

“He was a very bad boy today, and you know this, Y/N.” Logan rolled his eyes.

“Get off him, Wade.” Vanessa spoke in that stern voice, and even though it was not directed to you, your collar was getting hot already. “We’ll sort it out later tonight, mkay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Wade gave a mocking salute before getting off of Logan with a grumble.

“She’ll be making ya say that seriously later, you know?” You raised an eyebrow at the mercenary, who made a heart symbol with his hands as he winked.

You thrust your special bucket towards the huge, jacked man (hehe), his demands met. Logan sighed before digging his hands in, and shoved it down his mouth.

“I prefer corn starch.”

“You fucking take that back, you little slutty shitter-”

You would’ve beaten him to a pulp for disrespecting your recipe, but Vanessa gave a mock cough, getting you, him and Wade to look at her. “Legally Blonde or Die Hard?”

“It’s August, the fuck are we suggesting Die Hard for?” You huffed, arms crossed, snatching your ketarin back.

“Yeah, too early for festive cheer, sweetcheeks. And I can’t miss out on international girlboss Ms. Woods, who do you take me for?”

“Die Hard is barely a Christmas movie,” Logan scoffed, but didn’t oppose when Vanessa selected Legally Blonde with the remote.

You all relaxed, in your own fucked up way. You and Vanessa arm-wrestled over who got to have a sip of Pepsi (she won, you were trying to hold your bucket in the other hand). Wade’s commentary was louder then the movie, causing Logan to punch him, and Wade let out a murmur of ‘harder, mummy’. You snickered at Logan’s look of repulsion and confusion, looking over to Vanessa, who was most likely the mummy in question. Unfortunately for Logan, she was going onto the balcony to let Mary Puppins piss, so he looked at you.

“Something something we’ll deal with you later, something something what would Elle Woods think?”

Wade seemed to think Elle Woods thought badly of him, standing upright and flopped onto his seat. You put your hands through Logan’s hair, watching him relax from your movement, before yelping when Vanessa came back and accidentally sat down on your hand.

“Shit, so sorry.” Vanessa gave a quick kiss to your hand, and you dramatically swooned as you watched Elle Woods be a girlboss.

“Forgiven, honeybuns, for I could never be mad at such an exquisite princess, who’s hair was made from silk that Willy Wonka once commissioned-”

“Shove your Shakespeare-ass monologues up your ass and get a room.”

Blind Al spoke up, and all four of you turned to see her standing behind you, having just come home.

“This is our room, Al,” Wade countered. “We rented it fair and square while you played poker with all the other little old ladies like you.”

“You’re early.” Logan noted, holding onto a bottle as he turned back to the television.

“Wilson’s clients took a car on a joyride and crashed into the club. Drunk on that high, I reckon.”

“Were they driving with the truck nuts?”

“How the fuck would I know, stupid?”

“Ah.” You hung your head in exaggerated shame, before Al grabbed the wall and let it guide her towards her room.

“Your clients?” You asked Wade with a raised eyebrow after she was gone.

“Karen, Kenny and Twinkletoes.” He ‘answered’. “Now, back to our regular scheduled program of Elle Woo-......and the movie’s over.”

Logan snorted, and Wade gasped, turning to face him. “I’ll have you know that it was a sacrifice I made, I tell you! I gave it all up!”

“You’d give anything up for a cornchip,” Logan shot back, but Vanessa gave a loud clap that stopped the conversation. You placed your empty bucket in the sink halfheartedly before turning to your girlfriend.

“Back to bed. We’ve got some behavior to correct.” Vanessa commanded, heading to your shared room.

“Yes, mummy.” Wade answered in his most ‘uwu’ voice, leading you to groan and Logan to shove him lightly as he followed Vanessa.

“A bit too early on the petnames, buddy.”

Wade stuck his tongue at you, and you flipped the bird before following Logan, who was following Vanessa, and Wade then followed you like some fucked up, freakish line of baby ducks crossing the road.

And you would change none of it.

[kingconia]

SAVANACLAW WITH S/O, WHO IS SECRETLY ANIMAGUS.

[ Animagus — a magician, who can turn into an animal and back by their own will. ]

Leona Kingscholar.

— I actually headcanon that Leona has a strong Disney princess vibe, which means he is always surrounded by a lot of animals—and it is not about his classmates—so, when a stray cat starts following him around he doesn't see anything strange in that;

— Whenever he wakes up, there is always the same cat curled on his chest, a very pleasant weight on him almost reminding him of you, his lover;

— Leona's friendship with the cat starts when he offers it the peace of his meal that Ruggie brought. It licks his fingers and face after, and he introduces the cat as ”my partner in crime” to Ruggie affectionately;

— The cat hit him on the cheek with these little paws of it, when the headmaster is too close to the spot, where Leona sleeps carelessly, instead of being on lessons;

— Instantly, Leona wants you and the cat to meet each other. But when he tries to arrange the meeting in the botanical garden, something always goes wrong. He is so annoyed.

•

”Fucking fluffy brat!” Leona hisses, sniffling more intensely, trying to pick of the scent of the cat one more time. ”That is embarrassing, I swear.”

You smile as you lean on the tree with your shoulder. There is something especially funny about Leona, who searches for the cat desperately, with his tail swinging nervously. You don't even mask your laughter.

”I swear, this furball hates me,” Leona mutters. He is suddenly in front of you, with hands gripping your shoulders as he gently shoves you in the opposite side. ”Move, move. I think, she is somewhere here.”

“Su-ure,” you yawn with the fake sympathy.

”I am sure... It is somewhere... Here...”

You can't help but wonder how someone could be so smart and stupid at the same time...

Ruggie Bucchi.

— When a little bird sits down on his windowsill in the morning, Ruggie's first—and honest—reaction is to wonder if it is morally correct, to eat it alive;

— He stops thinking about that right after the bird throw a few branches in Leona's head, after he was especially mean to Ruggie;

— Since then, considers to befriend it. Brings some food for birds, and allows it to peck on his cheek;

— Allows it to travel on his shoulders, while he shows ”the bad guys, you should throw branches at, Birdie”, and complains the bird about everything and everyone during the day;

— Ruggie finds it unbelievably unfair how you, his lover, and Birdie, his best friend, are never in the same room.

•

”You hung up with Draconia boy too much,” Ruggie tells you, with the absolutely serious expression on his face, when you come to look at the empty cage again.

You blink, not really understanding where it is coming from.

”...What it has to do with you never being able to keep your bird to my arrival?” You mock, folding arms on your chest.

”His darkening aura annoys Leona, and it surely scares the Birdie away,” Ruggie hums.

You really can't help but burst out in laughter. Instantly, you throw a pillow in his head.

”Ouch, ouch!”

”And you should start hang out with Leona less,” you chid. ”Malleus is no at fault that you can't even train your pet.”

Though, of course, you are not his pet. And there is no way you are going to be train, even for a game.

”Yeah... You are right.”

But Ruggie doesn't need to know that. For now, at least.

Jack Howl.

— ???

— When a random rabbit starts following Jack around, he looks absolutely lost. Had this animal never heard that wolves eat their kind???

— ”Hey, come on... Go away, bunny... Go!” (Looks at it with the warmest eyes ever) ”Fine... The strong must protect the sweet one... But only because you are so small, and helpless!”

— He can't bring it to Savanaclaw, for the obvious reasons, so Jack makes a deal with Epel, to keep it in his dorms. Epel stress out, because the animal keeps appearing and disappearing on its own wish, though...

— Jack, somehow, justifies this strangeness with the fact that, of course, his Bun-Bun is not like other rabbits, huh! (He is so delusional...)

•

”Oh, Jack,” you mutter softly, scratching him behind the ear. ”Don't be sad. Surely, once I will be able to meet this rabbit of yours, too.”

Jack sighs, putting cheek on your shoulders, obviously disappointed that his two favourite creatures hadn't met yet. In moments like this, you are so close to tell him the truth... It is just impossible to see him sad...

”I know... But it happens so often. It is, as if you and Bun-Bun are the same person!” He blinks. ”Actually... You kinda act the same, you know?”

You pale visibly. How the fuck, from all of the in this school, Jack the only one who assumed the right answer, though, by the accident?!

”I... Jack...”

”Ha-ha,” the sudden loud laugh from the other end of the room startles both of you. ”Our dear Y/n, cette douce étoile, a bunny? Don't you think, a cat would fit them more?”

You sigh, waving Rook Hunt off, though, with a certain gratitude.

”Jack, you would notice, though, wouldn't you? You have extra senses.”

He nods reluctantly, but you can see doubt in his eyes. And when you turn around, Rook winks at you, knowingly.

You are in so much trouble...

[sturniozo]

Our Lips Are Sealed III

Masterlist

Nate’s POV

Y/n goes to her room, not saying much after we got home. It’s nothing unusual though, after a day out with people she doesn’t talk much. It’s like she has a daily word limit that she uses up when she’s with people, then when she comes home she has no words left.

I close the door to my bedroom, which is across the hall from y/n’s. I sit on my bed and immediately go to FaceTime Chris.

He picks up after a moment. “What’s up?” He says.

“Don’t flirt with y/n! I told you that, dude!” I say.

Chris laughs. “I wasn’t flirting with her.”

“You keep doing shit like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like that stunt you pulled today.”

Chris laughs again. “Stunt? What stunt? Giving her my flannel? She was cold-“

“You were holding her.”

“What’s wrong with that? We’re just friends it’s not like-“

“Not like what?” I say to him. I sigh. “Look, man, I’m not trying to… she’s my little sister. She’s not…”

“I know.” He says. “And I won’t try anything with her, I swear. I was just being nice, being a friend.”

I nod. “I know.”

Y/N’S POV

My head hurt when I woke up the next morning. Like a pounding in my skull. My mouth and throat were so dry it felt like my tongue had cracked. I squeeze my eyes shut as I groan. I look over at my nightstand, the empty cans of peace tea had fallen over and were of no use to me now.

I groan as I get up from my bed. I reach to grab the numerous cans as I walk out of my room with them, carrying them down the stairs. I throw them into our can bin in the kitchen, then walk to the fridge to pull out another fresh one.

I turn around, seeing Chris staring at me. My face immediately goes beet red. “What are you doing here?” I ask.

Chris just stares at me. His eyes go down to my legs and I remember I’m not wearing pants, as I never do to bed. I just hate the feeling of fabric on my legs as I sleep.

I pull my shirt down to cover myself, dropping the can to the ground. Luckily it had remained unopened. “Chris!” I shout since he didn’t answer me. His eyes jolt from my legs to my eyes.

“Sorry! I- Nate invited me and Nick and Matt over, he said you usually sleep late…” Chris trails off.

“I do… I just needed a drink.” I pull my shirt down to cover myself more.

“Yeah, let me get that for you.” Chris says bashfully as he leans down and picks up my tea can. He hands it to me, staring into my eyes and a blush creeps up my cheeks.

“I’d wait a bit to open it.” He says.

“It’s not carbonated.” I mumble back.

Chris just hums as he stands still in front of me. We stand staring each other in the eyes for a bit, before Chris finally pulls away. “I’m gonna go back up to Nate’s room…” he says as he starts walking away.

“Okay.” I reply. I hold the car tightly in my hands as I watch Chris walk up the stairs and disappear in the hallway. After I hear the door to Nate’s room close I walk up the stairs myself, going to my room.

As I pass Nate’s room I hear them speaking.

“How do you go downstairs to get chips and not even get chips?” Nate asks.

“I uh, I got distracted.” Chris says.

“By what, sunlight?” Nick jokes.

“No, by… y/n.” Chris says.

There’s a pause before Nate says “I didn’t think she’s awake yet.” He laughs.

“She just woke up, apparently.” Chris says.

I decide not to eavesdrop any longer and head to my room, softly shutting the door behind me. I sit on my bed, opening my can of tea and taking a long sip before setting it down on my night stand.

I take my laptop from the edge of my messy bed and set it on my lap, opening it and typing in my password. I open up Disney to watch my current fixation, a movie I’ve seen so many times. It’s a comfort. The familiarity brings me a sense of peace.

I move the time back to the beginning, starting it over. I pull out some skittles from my drawer of my nightstand. If Nate saw me eating skittles for breakfast he’d freak out, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

The movie starts with the song I’m so familiar with. Just hearing it makes me happy. I sort through my skittles, picking out three of each color before eating them one at a time, in a certain order.

A few hours pass. After the first movie I watch another one I’m fond of that brings me joy. Around halfway through the second movie I hear a knock on my door.

“Hey it’s Nate.”

I look up. “You may enter.” I say.

He opens the door and looks at me. “I didn’t know if you were changing or something.” He says, laughing softly.

I laugh with him. “I’m just watching Netflix.” I tell him.

He notices the skittles on my bed. “Please tell me you ate something else before you ate those.” He says.

I pause for a moment before replying. “I had tea.”

“Tea is not breakfast.” He says.

I shrug. “I don’t like breakfast.”

Nate rolls his eyes. “The guys and I were gonna order pizza, did you want anything? We can get you your own if you’d like.” He says.

I shrug. “Just the usual.” I tell him. Nate knows my comfort foods, my favorites that’s I always eat. It changed every few months, but he’s always so attentive to know which ones they are when they change.

“Alright.” Nate shrugs and begins to close the door. He stops and says. “If you want, you can hang out with me and the guys.”

I bite my lip. I don’t know how awkward it will be with Chris after this morning. I bring myself to nod. “Okay, yeah.” I say and shut my laptop. I stand up from my bed and Nate walks out of my room.

I walk to my dresser and pull out a pair of shorts and a new shirt. I quickly change into my clothes and walk out of my room and peak into Nate’s. No one there.

I shake the confusion off and walk downstairs, and see them all on the couch. All four boys are arguing over what movie to watch when the pizza gets here.

“Horror.” Nate says. “There’s nothing better than horror and pizza!” He says.

“No!” Nick whines. “I have horror movies!”

“I still think we should watch a superhero movie.” Matt says as he crosses his arms and leans back on the couch.

“I agree with Matt.” Chris says.

I walk out from behind the corner of the stairs and walk to behind the couch.

“Hey, n/n.” Nate says. “We’re just trying to pick a movie.”

“Let’s go with superhero, come on!” Nick says.

“Fine, fine.” Nate holds up his hands in surrender. “Come on, y/n, sit down.”

Nate scoots over on the couch to make room for me between him and Chris. I sit down and Chris almost immediately puts his arm over my shoulder.

“You look different with pants on.” Chris jokes, causing me to blush.

Nate shoots up from the couch, glaring at Chris. “The fuck did you just say?”

TAGS: @bernardenjoyer @sturniolosreads @mbbsgf @xxsadlovexx @whicked-hazlatwhore @sturnsgirl @keira324 @stuniolobbg @timmyscomputer @meg-sturniolo @sturnioloenthusiast @nickdevora @hearts4chris @carolinalikesthings @mattscokewhore @urfavpouge @savageking3 @tastesousweet @jko3005 @sturniolo0ntop @dwalk41202 @stvrnise @iloveneilperry @luvmxtt @blueeyedbesson @iloveurgf @mattswifr @that-chris-girl01

[omgrachwrites]

Heather - Chapter One

Pairing: Lip Gallagher x Bartender!Reader

Summary: You’ve fallen for the smart college kid who frequents the bar your work in. The only problem? He has a girlfriend.

Warnings: fluff, swearing, angst, mentions of drugs

A/N: For reference, the reader is 21 and Lip is 20. Hope you guys enjoy this and please let me know what you think. I love you all! xxx

Chapter One

The door to the bar was pushed open, letting in the chilly Chicago wind, you heard the brothers before you saw them. The youngest one let out a high pitched giggle and you heard the older one chuckle and say something you couldn’t decipher. Then you saw them, you saw the gorgeous young man holding his baby brother in his arms.

Lips’s cheeks were rosy from the cold and he glanced up at you with a grin as Liam shifted in his arms.

“There’s my favourite boy! Hi, Liam,” you smile, waving at the little boy who gave you a toothy grin as he waved back.

Lip smirked as he walked up to the bar, “and what about me?”

“Hmm,” you pretended to ponder as your eyes roamed up and down the length of his body, “you’re alright I guess.”

He laughed as he slid onto a stool as he balanced Liam on the one next to him, “rude. Can I study here? At this time of day, it’s quieter than the library,” he ran a hand through his curls, leaving them even more tousled.

“Sure!” you laughed, resting your hip against the bar, “but I’m not serving you any alcohol until next year.”

“Oh, Y/N,” he pulled a face.

“My bar, my rules,” you grinned at the smallest Gallagher as you made him a diluted juice.

Lip scoffed as he took his college work out of his bag, “it’s your parents bar.”

You rolled your eyes as you poured him a glass of coke, “yeah and they want nothing to do with it, so it’s mine,” you laughed as you put the glass of soda in front of him.

He narrowed those gorgeous blue eyes at you but he thanked you all the same, while Lip got to work you entertained Liam by watching a Disney movie with him on your phone.  It was a random Tuesday at 2pm, the bar was very dead so you could spend as much time as you liked with the Gallagher brothers.

You didn’t realise Lip was watching you until he spoke softly, “you’re good with him.”

You glanced up at him, his eyes were warm and he was giving that soft smile that showed off his dimples. You laughed as your cheeks warmed up and you stood up straight, raising an eyebrow, “so are you.”

Lip laughed as he ruffled Liam’s hair as the little boy looked up at him with adoration, “he’s my little brother.”

You smiled as you took a sip of your soda as you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “do you guys want some pizza rolls?”

Lip groaned and pulled a face, “that’s sweet but for the past week, I’ve had cold pizza for breakfast.”

You laughed as you nodded, “fair enough. Are you doing much tonight?”

At your question, Lip’s easy smile fell from his lips and he started fidgeting with the drawstrings of his hoodie, “I’m meeting my girlfriend’s parents.”

Your heart dropped like a stone but you managed to keep your face under control as you stared at him. The pressure in the bridge of your nose swelled and you knew you were moments away from crying. You looked away from him and started cleaning the front bar – even though it was spotless – and you finally trusted your voice to speak.

“Didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”

He scoffed, “yeah, I’m pretty sure her family didn’t know she had a boyfriend until recently, it’s been going on for a couple of months and I think she’s barely said a word about me,” he shook his head as he glanced up at you with a small smile, “what about you? What are you doing tonight?”

You smiled, happy for the slight change of subject, “dinner with my parents.”

Lip laughed as he ran a hand through his hair, “wow, so you’ll be having just as much fun as me.”

You nodded with a roll of your eyes, you hated having dinner with your parents. The dinners were nothing more than a chance for your parents to remind you just how disappointed they were in you.

“Something like that. Is Liam going back home when you’re at your girlfriend’s?”

Lip shook his head as he scrawled something in his notebook, “no, my sorta roommate is taking him.”

You scoffed, normally you withheld your judgement but this time, you couldn’t stop it, “so you’re gonna leave him with someone you barely know instead of leaving him with your sister?”

“My roommate didn’t nearly kill him with a stash of cocaine, Y/N.”

“Lip, surely it was an accident, maybe you should give her a chance.”

Lip looked up at you, a crease forming in between his eyebrows, “for once, Y/N, just stay out of it,” his voice was unnaturally harsh that you almost flinched back. His eyes went wide with guilt, “Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, you’re right, I shouldn’t get involved.”

“Hey,” he closed a warm hand around your wrist, “I like it when you get involved,” you smiled as your cheeks flushed.

Lip studied for about half an hour more before he checked the time and told you he had to go, “good luck for tonight.”

Lip grinned at you as he dressed Liam in his coat, “thanks Y/N. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

You nodded, with a smile, pretending like you couldn’t wait when in reality, you couldn’t think of anything worse. At the end of your shift, your best friend and bar manager, Jessica came to relieve you. She grinned at you as she pulled you into a hug.

“Where’s your boyfriend?”

You scowled at her as you slipped into your jacket, “he’s not my boyfriend.”

Jess quirked an eyebrow “oh yeah? Then how did you know who I was talking about?”

You sighed, “he has a girlfriend.”

“What? How? I mean that boy looks at you like you put the stars in the sky. You know it won’t last right? This girl is probably someone he fucked and now he’s too nice to tell her he doesn’t want to be with her.”

You laugh, “hopefully. I’ll see you later, I’m having dinner with the assholes tonight but I’ll try and get out of it early.”

“Okay, babe. I’ll see you later.”

You smiled at her as you leave the bar and headed home. As soon as you started working at the age of 16 you began saving for your own place, you didn’t want to live with your parents any longer than you had to. As you got ready, you had two glasses of wine, there was no way you were showing up to your parents’ house sober.

You got an uber over to their place and it was your dad who opened the door with a roll of his eyes, “you decided to show up did you?”

You scoffed as you walked into the house, “wait, I had a choice?” your dad didn’t reply which was so like him.

You walked into the dining room where your mom was setting the table. The set up looked fancy, fancier than usual, and that was saying something. Your mom glanced up at you as she poured wine into a couple of glasses. You only had wine on special occasions.

“I hope you won’t embarrass us tonight, Y/N.”

You scoffed as you leaned your hip against the doorframe, “no promises. What’s the special occasion?”

“My boyfriend is coming over,” your sister replied as she walked into the room. She looked beautiful in a dress of green lace that complimented her red hair.

Your eyes widened, “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend. Why didn’t you tell me?”

She shrugged, a sheepish smile on her face, “you know my whole thing that as soon as I tell people, it all goes to shit. I really like this guy, Y/N.”

You gave her a warm smile and you knew she was telling the truth; she was the only one in your family who was ever happy to see you. Before you could say anything the doorbell rang and you walked back through the hallway to get the door. You pulled the door open and fell into silence when you saw who was at the door.

Lip’s jaw fell and all you could do was stare at each other, both of you as shocked as the other.

“Y/N! Are you gonna let him in or what?” Heather giggled as she came to the door and pulled him inside.

You had to turn away when Heather pulled him in for a kiss, tangling her hand in his curls.

When they pulled away, Heather gestured at you, “Lip, this is my sister, Y/N.”

Before Lip could say anything you spoke up, “nice to meet you, Lip.”

His jaw clenched as he stared at you with hurt in his eyes, “yeah, it’s nice to meet you too.”

It sounded like you were underwater as Heather introduced Lip to your parents, she went off to the kitchen to get him a beer and your parents attended to the dinner. With a sigh, you turned and walked straight outside as you lit a cigarette.

“You’ve been driven to smoking now?” Lip laughed nervously as he came outside with you.

“I smoke when I’m stressed.”

“Y/N, look,” he started but you cut him off.

“Are you cheating on her? She really likes you Lip, and I know your track record with women.”

Lip scoffed as he ran a hand through his hair, “no, Y/N. Of course I’m not cheating on her. You mad at me or somethin’?”

“No, I’m not mad, I just,” I wish I were Heather, “I just want you to be good to her.”

“If I’m not you have full permission to kick my ass.”

[sanjisblackasswife]

Any dad headcanons for the monster trio? (+ Law if you don’t mind)

(also love your writing btw!!)

A/N: I just seen a edit a while ago of Sanji being so good w kids n so I must— thank u btw!:) Imma add Cora because omg we need more writing with him:(

One Piece Men as Daddies (Fluff)

Black Fem Reader in Mind

CW: None! Except the mommy (the reader) is kinda a menace.

Ft. Zoro, Luffy, Law, Sanji, Corazon

Sanji

Top 2 Best Dads and he ain’t number 2 fr

He spoils his kids more than you now I’m sorry :(

He doesn’t realize this and swears he loves you both equally

I can most definitely see him having a daughter as his first child and yes you and her are his Queen and Princess

His daughter is a simp just like his daddy

His daughter stresses him out so much because she loves drooling over every guy she sees omg

“STOP IT, SAMMIE!”

“Sweetheart she’s a baby she doesnt e—“

“ARE YOU STARING AT MY CHILD?!”

Sanji needs to throw all kinds of kicks when he is with his babygirl

God help him when she’s a teenager

He loves cuddling you both while watching Disney movies

He teaches his sweet girl the importance of how a man should treat her if she somehow gets one

“You can’t get married until you’re 25.”

“Sanji she’s just 3 right now.”

“Okay make it 30.”

Okay ngl when you were having the baby he made the mistake of looking down between your legs and the baby’s head was just barely peaking and he passed out.

He still has a bit of subtle nose bleeds when you were breast feeding too

He keeps mementos of every single thing his child has; drawings, fallen teeth, etc he keeps it in a box in his side of the closet

Due to his childhood he tends to worry he will turn into his biological father. He confided to you about this issue while you were pregnant and you nipped it in the bud and told him that he was and will never be like him and Zeff would be proud of the kinda man and future father he turned out to be

Both cried that night.

Also he is completely aware what happens to a woman’s body after pregnancy and will always remind you no matter how much your body changes he will still see you so beautiful.

He will be just like Zeff to his son. Teaching him the same way and all.

Zeff is the granddaddy btw. Sanji takes his kids to visit him often.

He usually takes the kid(s) off your hands for a day if he sees you feel stressed

100000000/10 daddy and yes he will be pumping more into you again if you’re up for it🤍

Luffy

Two Luffy’s running around in your home

Make it 3 because I can see him having twins

They stress you out sm.

“STOP PUTTING THE BABIES UP ON TOP OF THE SHELF ONE DAY THEY GONE SAY FUCK IT AND BUST THEY HEAD—“

“I GOT THEM Y/N!”

Man didn’t have a clue in the world how to be a daddy. So he went to Rayleigh panicking KSSHSJJSS

He’s a very chill parent so you have to be the stern one and it sucks sometimes

Yes the kids like daddy more than you

Almost every night when Luffy is home he puts the twins to bed with telling them of all the stories he had with you when he was young

“And I met your mommy on a different island! She didn’t like me at first but now she’s in love with me! Heheheeh!”

Kids have the same shishishi laugh as him cracks you up each time they do it in sync

You made the mistake of leaving the three of them at home as you went to go shopping and came back to a wrecked home and the three of them eating meat on the floor

He tells them about Ace a lot.

He actually named one of the twins after him

Encourages them to be what they want in life even if they want to be a pirate

Sabo is ofc the nice uncle that comes barring gifts

Sanji and Zoro are the Goddfathers

9/10 daddy that still is learning to be a daddy

Zoro

It’s canon this man is amazing with kids so off bat he’s top 3.

Since he has so much experience he was really good with handling the baby when he was first born

At least 17 times during the time yall son was a baby he tried nursing from Zoro and he hated it sm he couldn’t even take a nap shirtless with him

“STOP LAUGHING!”

“He Just Like me for real.”

“ENOUGH.”

The second the baby was able to walk he already wanted to train him into being a swordsman

“HES A BABY!”

“HE IS A GROWN MAN—!”

He will most definitely kill for you both

You annoyed him so much during your pregnancy because you wanted to leave the house but he didn’t want you getting hurt

You’ve caught him training with your baby son swaddled on his chest (like that one filler episode of him babysitting) and you nearly choked him out because wtf is he swinging around a sword so close to y’all baby.

He did gain some weight too during your pregnancy but immediately shredded off after you poked his belly

He loves his son but as he got older he started to have beef KSSHSHSISK

His son is a mamas boy and so whenever Zoro wants to have alone time with you it’s like he had a 6th sense and barged in ruining the moment

It’s so funny seeing them argue over who gets to cuddle you for the night

He plans to give your son one of his old swords when he gets older if he decides to be a swordsman

Luffy is the Goddfather and Sanji is ofc the cool uncle that comes to visit

100000/10 Zoro is a wonderful daddy

Law

He is the strict dad

You both had a daughter and she annoys him a lot just like you did when you both were dating

“Imma get tatted like you daddy.”

“You’re 13.”

“So?”

“NO—!”

He was the one to deliver y’all baby

The doctor side of him popped out when you were pregnant he never let u leave the bedroom. He even bathed you a lot which in turn have had him have sex with you in the tub

“Orgasms can help soothe you as you’re pregnant, y/n.”

“…the hell you read that at.”

He talks about Cora to you and your baby while you both were were sleep after pregnancy.

When your daughter turned 21 you and her convinced Law to get the same matching tattoo as him on her hand and even though he acted like he was against it he was ecstatic

He has scared off so many of your daughter’s boyfriends pls

He took off the head of one because he kept staring at YOUR boobs

Law likes to study with his baby girl on his lap.

You’ve walked in on him sleep on his chair with the baby cuddled on top

120/10 Law is an outstanding responsible daddy

Corazon (Rosinante)

TOP BEST DADDY SHUT UP HEAR ME OUT

Matching clothes

He’d have a daughter :( lil Rosie Aksbsjdksk

Yes he’s clumsy but he’d rather die than have you or his baby hurt

He didn’t stop smoking but he does only do it outside

You catch him doing stupid faces and stunts to make you’re daughter laugh when she’s sad and she eats it right tf up

Yes she is a daddy’s girl

He carries you both around with ease

If he notices you feeling insecure about your body post birth he’ll feel a tinge of guilt but smother you in kisses and appreciation about how he doesn’t care about how you look he still loves u sm

And if that doesn’t work he’ll just show you…naked…in the bed….

Sex he’ll show u with sex

Law is like the older brother and he may not act like it but he loves seeing Cora so happy with you and the baby

Scares tf outta you when he is outside throwing your 4 months old baby in the air tho

He uses some of his methods when he was raising Law to raise your baby

Gets so emotional when your daughter reaches out for him

“BABY LOOK AT OUR BABY SHE LOVES ME!”

“You’re her daddy, Cora of course she loves you.”

Just like Sanji saves every core memory he can of your baby daughter

Let’s her put on his makeup . It came out horribly but he proudly wore it the whole day

He needs to kiss you both before leaving or else he will have a terrible day

One time you and the baby surprised him with a cake just as a thank you for everything he has done for you and he fell off the chair crying

He cries a lot

Wants to have like 3 more babies with you

102$)43920292772200/10 best mf Daddy

[theoriginalkaminari]

The Bakugo twins (preview)

Frozen 2.0 Disney don't come for me

If you wanna see more lemme knowww but I might just do it for fun anyway

Reader's personality is based off of Maki Zen'in

Warnings: Swearing, bad parenting, kinda ooc for some people.

Class 1-A x Gn!reader.

Wait up!" Y/N chases after their twin brother, holding a butterfly net.

Katsuki sighs, turning and stopping to wait for them, facing them with an annoyed expression on his face.

"You're so slow, 'N/N!" He huffs, folding his arms as his twin catches up to him. Y/N pouts, narrowing their eyes at him. "Izuku's my friend too! You have to wait for me when we go to his house!" Katsuki rolls his eyes.

"Whatever. Just come on already!" He says as he walks off. Y/N quickly follows. Y/N looks like their twin, and their twin looks like them. As twins should. Both have ash blonde hair and deep red eyes.

The two did everything together. From playing to eating, to copying each other's actions. The two shared the same goals, the same dreams. The dream of becoming a hero.

Y/N remembers the day well. The day they found out they were never going to get a quirk. The day their parents began to treat them differently. The day their twin hardly talked to them.

"I can't believe I gave birth to that..."

"Come on, don't say things like that. Its not their fault..."

Y/N was used to overhearing their parents conversations. The small arguments about them.

Things began to change. Y/N's needs were tossed aside while Katsuki basked in the spotlight.

At least Y/N had Izuku. Their one and only bestfriend.

But eventually, they began to drift apart. Y/N decided they weren't going to let their family push them down.

They were going to prove how they could be better than Katsuki.

Y/N grew to hate their family. Katsuki, Mitsuki, all of them. They stopped relying on them. Stopped paying attention to them. Stopped caring.

Y/N was determined to rise past all of their family and become the number one hero to prove that they were better.

To prove...

They were worth something.

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Knight

Emily x male!reader

this was requested by @wfig123 and the request was: “can you do Emily x male!reader where Emily becomes a fallen angel and ends up with Valentino, but reader saves her and he takes care of her”. They also drew art to go with this request which is so cute! <3 Their art is added below t

Summary: Emily coudlnt sit silently and watch heavens cruelty once Adam was gone, after a fight with Sera nothing could be done when the hellfire sucked her down. And just as Emily’s hope lifted with Charlie finding her, it dropped again when she got snatched up, luckily you like playing knight in shining armour

Warnings: Valentino and his crew, bad explanations of action sorry gang lmao, kinda disney-esque saviour stuff, kidnapping, swearing, sexual harassment, Emily is portrayed as meek, male reader, no physical description except the reader has lightning powers like last request. NOT PROOFREAD alrighty lads lemme know what i missed :))

word count: 2.2k

It was an unfortunate state of events for Emily, one minute she’s being guided by Sera, then she finds out her guide, the one she adored most, lied to her. Charlie opened Emily’s eyes to world she never knew existed and the goodness in her heart wouldn’t allow Charlie to fight the battle alone, especially knowing that those were human souls, just like they had in heaven, she had to believe.

Emily had pestered Sera since Charlie left, and when the extermination happened, Emily couldn’t just stand by as Lute returned single handed, uh, literally. Emily had what could only be described as a mental breakdown paired with an identity crisis. She screamed at Sera about how angels were the symbol of love, peace and that the exterminations are everything but that. Not to mention it brought forth a catalyst of problems, with Lutes missing arm, and Adam seemingly dead, it wouldn’t be long until the whole of heaven heard of what’s become. Emily’s emotional outburst caused catastrophe, as the portals opened to pull Emily down all Sera could do was stand aside watching the hellfire grip and pull her down, Emily screaming for Sera to help her, to do something.

And just like that Sera had backstabbed Emily a second time, or was it a third? Landing harshly in the smog, and ashes, Emily coughed, her wings burning her dress tattered. Physically she didn’t change but her halo had fallen and horns curled out of her hair. Overwhelmed with emotions, Emily curled into herself in the dilapidated alleyway, unsure of what to do from here on out. After another good cry, Emily pulled herself off the ground, hair tattered, dress dirty and feeling the worst she’d ever felt. It was like falling into heaven took the clouds from her eyes so she could see things as they really are, and as much as she hated the feeling, she preferred to know.

That’s when it hit her, the reason she originally fell, Charlie, the hotel, safety. With new motivation Emily pulled herself off the ground beginning to walk towards the open streets. Eyes jumping from demon to demon, brick building to brick building, it was surprisingly advance and the demons looked less grisly, like she originally imagined.

If anything it looked like a crueller heaven, which she supposes shouldn’t be a surprise considering Lucifer was drone heaven originally. Stumbling through the streets, many demons could tell she was fresh meat by the way she carried herself, it was very skittishly, something that screamed victim.

Wringing her hands together, she went to ask some lady demons, who looked kind, where the hotel resided. However before she could a gasped sounded out behind her, turning on her heel Emily barely had time to catch her footing when Charlie crashed into her, giving her a organ crushing hug. “Oh my goodness Em! My dad got a message from the Seraphim! We were so worried there’s been a search out all day!” Charlie exclaimed, pulling away to inspect the fallen angel. Emily began to tear sniffling at the thought of people looking out for her, it was much kinder when people were willing to risk themselves for you.

Wiping away tears sheepishly, Emily shot Charlie a kind smile. “Thank you so much Charlie, I- it’s been so scary, I don’t know what i would have done without you.” Emily says meaningfully, giving Charlie a warm look.

“Cmon, let’s head back to the hotel so we can call everyone back.” Following close behind Charlie, Emily slumped twiddling her fingers as she walked down the hectic streets. Across the way a demon screams for mercy, before a shot rings out making Emily jump. “Is it, uh, always like this?” She asked meekly, not entirely sure of what she wanted the answer to be. Smiling Charlie nodded looking a little embarrassed at the fact. “Yeah, i mean some of these souls don’t deserve what they get, which is why stronger, and more violent demons go after them. Like that poor guy.” Charlie ushered Emily away with a guiding arm behind her back.

Pulling out her phone, Charlie sent a message to Angel, Husk, her father, you, and Cherrie who stayed back after the reconstruction of the hotel. Charlie got a quick response from you as per usual, and quickly opened her phone, reading the response. “My friend YN, he’s excited to meet you. He’s kinda been obsessed with the whole fallen angel thing. He’s hoping to get into heaven at some point, but he originally came to in his words, ‘stick his nose in your business’.” Charlie laughed at the recollection of your first arrival, gazing up at the pentagram covered sky. “He sounds kinda nice.” Emily muttered unsure of what she should really think.

“Don’t worry everyone will be nice, it’ll be grea-” Suddenty four demons burst out from an alley, right in front of both Charlie and Emily. Emily immediately jumped back a small shriek emitting from her. Charlie being the kind soul she was, attempting to yank the demons off eachother, reprimanding them for being so stupid, and getting tossed back. Emily watched a few feet back, hand to her mouth watching as Charlie’s demonic form emerged, as she got shoved away once again by the large bore demon.

Charlie was too carried away with the idiocy in front of her, to realise her dear friend was not used to the things residing in hell. And with one foul swoop, silent as a ghost, Emily was whisked up and away, dragged drugged and banged against god only knows what. Her vision was blackened and she knew she was crying but couldn’t control it nor could she properly feel her body.

She couldn’t tell if she was tossed in some cage or whether she was thrashing around a small car but all she knew is that it was a bumpy ride. When it finally stopped, it felt like her body was covered in bruises, she felt her body being dragged up by someone much stronger than her. “Here ya go boss boy.” A light voice hummed, not what she expected to come from someone so strong. There was the wicked smell of smoke invading her nose, making her want to cough and sneeze, however she held it together too afraid of what they do if she suddenly moved or made noise.

There was a long exhale, a breath hit Emily’s blindfolded face and she couldn’t help the recoile that happened when the smell hit her. “What a beauty, mm; she’ll cost a pretty penny y’know. Bring her.” Emily felt claws pick at her chin and then release her. At the beck and call of the man, Emily was taken to another room, this one was less echoey compared to the last, making her feel claustrophobic with the men in the room and cloth on her eyes.

It smelt like incense, cheap perfume, carpet, sex, booze and cigarettes, something Emily was not familiar with at all. Suddenly the arms gripping her, shoved her roughly against a surface, her bounced against it gently, establishing it was more than likely a bed. It was bare nothing but mattress underneath giving her no comfort nor way to hide from prying eyes. She felt cold hands pinch the top of the cloth near her eyebrows, and then the light hit her eyes, causing her to flinch, blinking rapidly.

She tried to bring her hand up to shield her eyes from the light, but found they were bounded by chain or something behind her back. Emily scanned the room in a panic, the room was small, only fit for a bed, a mirror and a few plants and such. It appeared more like a set then a bedroom, the walls were hot pink and furry, the mirror was large and in the shape of a heart, lights surrounding it, the worst part was that it was aimed right at the bed Emily sat on. There was two doors on each side, and near the one on the right closest to Emily was two men. One big beefy man who resembled a shark, and another tall lanky lavender coloured demon. He wore a long red coat, that was spread open, underneath was a black button up, and regular khaki colour suit pants. He wore the ugliest heart glasses paired with the ugliest top hat, and to Emily he was a hideous sight.

Grinning the sickly moth showed off his gold tooth, closing in on Emily’s shrunken down figure. “Look at you kitty, you’ll make such numbers, my pretty little angel.” The demon purred bending down to invade Emily’s space, smoke blowing at her. Coughing slightly, Emily scowled weakly tugging her head away from his cold hand. “I’m not- what’re you talking about?” Emily whispered in horror, standing to full height the moth brushed his clawed hand against his chest, and down. “Oh pretty little thing, you’ll figure it out hm? By the way sweetie, Valentino.” Sticking out the lower arm for a hand shake, he cackled to himself like he was hilarious before pulling it back. “Oops~ I forgot. Silly me!”

The shark behind him laughed like an idiot the two of them observing the way Emily’s body shook with fear, rage, and grief for what may come, tears free falling down her cheeks. “Oh c’mon, you’ll be fine.” The moth tutted, flicking his hand, he turned his attention to the shark whispering to start the cameras and bring in the centipede. As the shark left the room, the power cut out making the moth growl enraged. “What the fuck is this now?!”

Emily flinched back at the tone Valentino took compared to his previous coy tone. Valentino stood awaiting a response, his fists suspended up. Sighing with frustration he began to leave the room. Emily, unable to properly see in the dark of the room, stumbled off the bed tripping slightly.

She watched strobes of lights shoot through the hall, and without a second thought she booked it out the door. She ran down the hall, and turned, a window lighting the hall granted her sight with a staircase, she quickly sped to the stairs walking down cautiously as to not trip. She wished she could spread her wings but with her hands bound she wasn’t able to.

At the bottom of the stairs she followed the red glow of an exit light out a door, and down a creepy hall. The corridor led to a metal door, using her body to push the door open, Emily tripped crashing out of the door and onto her face. She teared up face scratched against the concrete, to the side of her she could hear the sound of demons muttering. Twisting her head to the side she saw two slutty looking demons, one smoking the other drinking. “Oh your Val’s angel, luckyyy. Let’s getcha back inside sugar.” The one with the cigarette said country twang slipping out like molasses.

Emily squealed, inching away awkwardly as her hands couldn’t lift her off the floor, before the two demons could put their hands on her, lightning appeared striking the two in the head. It was as comedic as it was blinding, the two demons sunk to the floor after the strike, Emily teared up turning her face away. You stepped out from the side, panting getting your ass kicked by waves of different demons including Val himself in attempts to find Emily.

You walked up to her shaking figure crouching down, you broke the cuffs with the heat from the lightning you were so generously gifted. “Bad time to meet huh Emily, my names YN, Charlie called me after you got snatched, thankfully she recognized that foul shark.” You explain when Emily turned tearfully up at you, slowly you pulled out your phone, opening a picture you took with both Charlie and Vaggie. “Here’s the proof, I’m a man of many crimes, but never a man of lies.” You say jokingly, trying to relieve the tension, thankfully that seemed to convince her. Looking up at you with diamond like tears across her lashes, she through her arms around your neck sobbing into you.

Gently you wrapped your arms around her, cooing at her softly while combing your fingers through her hair. “S’okay hun, you’re safe now.” You reassure giving her a tight squeeze, your heart breaking at the sight of the angel in your arms. You knew thanks to Charlie she had quite the reality tossed unwillingly in her face, and now she’s here. “Let’s get you to the hotel, okay sweets?” Gently you lifted yourself with her, your anxiety getting to you as you realised you were still in the alleyway where Valentino could get you any second.

Speedily you took off with the angel in your grasp, a block away you’d put her down, as she insisted, but you kept your hand intertwined with hers. She blushed when you took a tight grip, telling her that you wanted to keep her safe.

Once back at the hotel, you messaged Charlie about you being back with her, before turning to Emily. “Make yourself at home, this is the lobby and Charlie should be making her way back soon, once she’s here you’ll be given a room.” You smile at the angel, she reciprocates, her cheeks dusty a hue of purple. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she sheepishly tugged you at the collar pecking your lips with a chaste kiss. “Thank you for saving me.” You grinned at her shy gratitude, and pulled her into a side hug . “No problem.”

[heli0s-writes]

You’re Toxic, I’m Slipping Under

Summary: He bristles, offended. And you try, with as much dignity as you can muster after the last two hours of being fucked blind, to not look so smug about it. “See you next week,” he hums.

A/n: To celebrate Glass Onion coming out, here’s ol’ boy Ransom because I hate him so much :) 4.1k words. Warnings: Smut; mild degradation, spitting, daddy kink; classism; Mind Games with Ransom Hour etc. etc. Please stop reading if you’re not 18+

Your whole apartment building seems to rattle when he arrives thirty minutes late. Like raucous fanfare to announce his appearance, the door slams shut, the latch clicks loudly, and then you hear his heavy footsteps pounding up the stairs.

His shoes are still on—of course they are—stomping your floorboards and dragging in dirt. You can practically see them, the usual suede loafers switched out for leather boots with the late fall chill, and probably mud-caked because he’s thankless like that.

With your attention still on your laptop, already irritated because you’ve been attempting a paper that’s only chased its tail for the last three hours, you ask, “Did you misplace your watch, Ransom?”

Turning, you show him you’re the screen reading 8:32 and blink pointedly, “Is that a yes?”

“Don’t be smart,” he snaps back. “You know I don’t like that.”

Your head’s been a mess of fog, body tense and frustrated for days, and although you’ve always prided yourself on tact and grace—patient like a saint—Ransom manages to bring out the worst. You hiss, “Take your damn shoes off, you know I don’t like that.”

You watch mutely as he does so, not without a sneer here, a shitty comment there. He takes three long steps and plops himself on your bed, hands curling into the quilt, thumbs brushing over the patchwork fabric disparagingly. He pinches a loose thread and begins to pull, tugging slowly at first, and then finding joy in unraveling a line of stitching until nearly three inches rip apart.

“I always thought you needed to replace this thing.” He twirls the string disdainfully, “It’s ugly as sin.”

He pretends he doesn’t know how you obviously love this quilt—handstitched and affectionately made, your damn initials are embroidered into the corner, after all. He’s made a game of testing your patience, gleefully punching at every button as he tries to get you to snap.

Ransom Drysdale Thrombey. You’d met him at one of the Thrombey’s family… functions. Dysfunction, you’d muttered under your breath when Walt beat his cane against the floor in a drunken tirade and Meg ran out back to wolf down a pot cookie that she was supposed to be saving for later.

She was on the cusp of a panic attack, words tumbling out like a car crash, her hand in her beret, then hair, then trembling over her maroon-painted lips.

“God, I’m so sorry— I thought we could just make a pit stop before heading out. The food’s always catered and really good— god… it’s a fucking mess.”

You waved her off because it’s not like you haven’t witnessed at least one aunt having a meltdown during holiday dinner before— family’s just like that—and tried to placate her with, “Can’t be worse than the cousin who asked if we’d be scissoring later.”

Meg’s face twisted in disgust. “Ugh, ew! Fucking Jacob! He’s a skeezy little incel— I swear he’s a moderator on one of those internet forums where they post revenge porn and upskirt vids— honestly, he was adorable two years ago. Then I guess he went through puberty and got radicalized on Youtube.”

You paused as she lit a cigarette and inhaled furiously before realizing that the two of you were thinking of two entirely different cousins.

“I meant the big one, Meg. This one went through puberty twenty years ago.”

“Ew, Ransom,” Meg frowned, “That’s even worse.”

“Ransom? What is he, a Disney villain?”

Leaves crunched behind your back and Meg looked up from flicking ash into the yard toward the sound.

“Let’s be honest, I’ve got the face of a leading man.”

Meg blew smoke at him, as if the fumes were enough to threaten his sensibilities. You figured not, he looked like a cigar smoker anyway—one of those guys who’d dedicate a whole room in their house with the humidity just right to keep them fresh. Rich people shit.

“Go away, Ransom,” she said, to clarify.

“I don’t recall addressing you, Megan.” He took a drawn-out look, lips pursing in scrutiny before lifting a brow, making a real goddamn show about it. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll bite. 400 on the dresser for an hour; you can get yourself something nice.”

You’re still not sure what it was about either your attire or attitude that allowed him to conjure up such an offer.

Maybe it was your shitty jeans and your sweater from freshman year orientation. Maybe you looked like an easy mark to tear down.

His audacity shocked out a laugh from you—a loud, abrupt guffaw that eased Meg enough for her to dip back inside to grab more from her stash. And when she was out of sight, focused on rummaging in the old clock, you responded, “Yeah, okay. I’ll bite back.”

Maybe it was an act of rebellion against your background in contrast to all this excess. The bitter aftertaste of eating bottom shelf food out of necessity for weeks at a time—those awful chicken bouillon packets and dried blocks of instant noodles your first year of college. No one paid for your schooling or housing so learning to balance an over-abundance of classes and a job because you needed to graduate early, needed to spend less money on tuition, meant that you were working yourself to death.

If Youtube radicalized Jacob, then habitually sleeping three hours a night in the campus library and skipping meals to afford textbooks while men like Ransom crashed Maserati’s for fun radicalized you.

So, sure. Game on.

He picked you up the following weekend without anyone knowing and took you somewhere expensive. It was a whirlwind of exorbitant dinners and being quietly sneered at down the straight line of his tall nose bridge. The front door to his bachelor pad shutting but not bothered with locking. Falling into the thousand-count Egyptian cotton bedsheets naked, the skylight’s beam spilling like gold-flecked champagne.

You promised yourself it meant nothing. Just an experiment of unbridled spite. If he wanted to throw money at you, hell, that’s his problem. If he wanted to fuck you, well, you’d give him the best fuck of his life— let him see that despite wealth, at the end of the day, he was flesh and blood trembling for the right stroke.

And sure, he trembled, but it was your mistake to pare it down so simply.

Ransom juggled fuck buddies much longer than you’d been fucking at all. He knew it was best with the right amount of emotion involved. Just enough to yearn. If he laid roses at your feet, kissed your knees featherlight and worked his way up to your jaw, cradled the back of your head, nosed the pulse of your wrist, your collarbones, asked for your eyes on him, and panted the lightest breath of your name at the edge of it all—now who’s fucking who over, sweetheart?

You were out of your depth. He was powerful, older, and more experienced. He touched you in ways that emulated affection—that brought fire and danger. His hands were large and callused at the juncture of his fingers. His pretty mouth was pink, wet, kissed greedy. His sharp eyes took everything in.

But, as you predicted, his moods soon volleyed in every direction as consequence of never being told no, and once the novelty of crazy hot—often angry—sex grew stale, you crashed back down to earth burned out. You ghosted.

“You’re, what…” he called through the door the week after you texted that it was both too much and not enough to carry on with, “breaking up with me? Seriously. This is a fucking joke.”

And you could have practically seen it—how his bottom lip would jut out as his incisors crossed, how his brows would sink when he got angry. He was never belligerent, only calculating.

You told him to leave, and he did, after a single loud kick to the frame, because he’s never begged for anything, and he wasn’t going to start.

The guilt came afterwards, with the bouquet of roses on the doormat, petals scattered around because he’d slammed them down after being ignored again and again, and you swept them inside to throw into a vase next to the three other vases with flowers in various degrees of wilted.

“Breaking up” prickled complicatedly in the middle of your chest, because despite the many shows of affection, you knew you weren’t exactly breaking up. You had never really been with him anyway. People aren’t… with Ransom. They’re towed along by Ransom, dragged by their hair by Ransom. Played with by Ransom until he inevitably gets bored.

It devolved into needless melodrama. Weekly episodes of a teen show with grandiose gestures of toxic relationships perceived as romance. Ransom’s habit of whisking you away, fucking you senseless, turning around to fight with you about any-goddamn-thing he pleased. Dropping off flowers and champagne. Restarting the whole process.

It wasn’t healthy—isn’t healthy, probably, according to most therapists—since he’s here, present-day, in your room, beginning to undress.

You fiddle with the sleeves at your elbows, thumbing cool satin before advancing, arms subconsciously crossed.

He’s only in his underwear now. A pair of nondescript gray boxer briefs fitted on his muscular thighs, taut as he leans back on his palms. He slowly spreads his legs, inviting you between them. His lips purse when you stand passively, knee brushing his bulge, hands resting over his shoulders. He’s warm.

One palm caresses your lower back and the other on himself, gliding up and down. His lids are half open, voice low, “You miss this?”

“No,” which is a lie. You missed it when evenings were boring, half-heartedly nodding to some boy’s drivel about campus life, mind wandering to someone who didn’t look freshly 21, didn’t date like it. Didn’t talk themselves up just to get you into bed.

At least Ransom was honest; he always said exactly what he thought, told you exactly when you were pissing him off, how he was going to teach you a lesson—where he wanted you, how he wanted you, and— a chill races up your arms.

He’s downright smug when he notices.

“No? You prefer sloppy frat boys pawing at you like virgins over me? Every time, you think they might fuck right but, well, you’re always disappointed.” He reaches beneath the short hem of the robe, splays his hand out over your thigh and very slowly feels his way up.

Your eyes shutter as he pulls you forward, gripping tightly and massaging up toward your ass. The pit of your belly is tightening, the rest trying to push down being too eager for him all over you, his broad shoulders, his strong hands, how he bends his grasp on your shoulder, fixes you in a perfect curved arch just the way he likes.

Ransom noses the robe out of his path, sinking his teeth lightly down until he scrapes a line over your breastbone, laying his face gently down like a child—like a lover.

“You know,” he begins, taunting again, “You make a… face.” He says it as he trails down beneath the swell of one breast, letting your nipple graze his cheek, before he presses a kiss to your ribcage. Hot like a brand, searing into your belly. And then he bites.

You flinch, hand going to his hair to pull him away. He throws his head back into your grasp, eyes glittering and amused. He quickly works your thighs apart, dipping two fingers between and sinking into your heat.

“There it is,” he chuckles when your eyes flutter, “Yeah... Really gets me off.”

You’re in his lap before you know it, your hold on him fallen off and now scrambling for his wide shoulders to hold yourself steady. He’s got you leaned back on his thighs, hanging off the edge of the bed and perfectly helpless, the only thing planting you even close to secure are your folded knees, your arms around his neck. He’s shushing you, one large hand on the small of your back, the other still working inside your pussy.

He says, “Calm down unless you want to fall,” but it’s goddamn hard when your heart is pounding with equal parts fear and arousal. He’s sucking on your tits, balancing you just precariously enough to thrill, fingering you all the while—like it’s nothing to him, like you’re an object he can manipulate however he pleases.

His cock is erect, flexing against the fabric over his groin, a swell of hard, aching muscle. You want to put your hand around it, feel its girth in your palm, simply hold it because you do fucking miss it. The places he can reach, the ways he spreads you, rocking in and pulling out—how he sometimes settles inside, and then does nothing but watch you squirm.

It’s undeniably gorgeous—and he is too—when you fumble it out after he lays you down and hovers over you with interest. You’re wetting your lips automatically, staring in awe at his thick shaft sprouting from soft, dark, curls, the tip of it smooth and almost purple, swollen up with blood.

“Legs up,” and the way he says it, how he just goes right out and says it, makes you groan.

Boys don’t do that. Too busy in their heads about peacocking and re-enacting the kind of porno where performers wordlessly move into new positions in sync, nothing verbal exchanged but high-pitched shrieking and nasally fuck me’s.

Ransom’s extremely verbal in bed. He easily says, “Look at me. Show me how much you want it,” and flits his eyes between your bodies.  

You do, shivering, sliding two fingers along the sides of your folds, finding yourself aroused and damp, humiliated and incredibly turned on when he grins, simply content with watching. Your thighs are squeezing reflexively, abdomen crunching up trying to keep it together.

But he’s never been patient, and quickly tells you to hold your knees, rock back, make yourself small and exposed, and then he’s delving gently into your hole— thumbs taking turns, coaxing more.

Two fingers tuck in, then another two struggle next to them, and you can’t stop yourself from gasping and crying out at how he pulls apart the walls of your cunt.

The sound of it— sloppy, squelching, a light and hollow kind of noise like a tongue flicking inside an open mouth.

“Look at this pretty pussy.” He tugs a little more, and you wriggle into it, gripping your legs tighter, pulling your knees up, shins toward your burning face to hide.

He descends on your clit, tip of his tongue licking into your stretched hole, purposefully only running against the taut skin around his fingers. “You got a talent, baby,” he murmurs, buzzing. “I could fuck you the whole day, fuck you numb… but give you about half an hour and it’s good as new, tight and perfect.”

There had been marathon rounds of bouncing in his lap between being at each other’s throats, his thighs splitting yours, hands holding you up, nibbling at your ear. Then he’d turn you around, take you to the floor until you collapsed on the bearskin rug, the sweat on your neck and chest rolling into dark furs. Railed you until you were so sensitive anything would make you come; your body unsure if it was considered your own anymore.

Fuck, fight, rinse, and repeat.

“Are you—going to talk all night?” You grunt up to the ceiling, trying to steel yourself from panting or moaning and only barely making it.

“Thought you liked it when I talked.”  His dark head is still between your legs, nose pressed into your skin, licking agonizingly slow with his entire tongue. It’s so warm, and gentle, and assertive. “What, you don’t like being told how good you taste?”

He keeps licking, pushing at the back of your knees when you try to switch positions, holding you in that bent up pose. He’s suckling at your clit when his fingers find their way back inside, easily hooking in three and pumping them smoothly.

“How—” he sucks hard, the shape of his full, plush lips fitted over you making a filthy wet smack, “mmm—I love the taste of your sweet pussy?”

When you come like it’s being ripped out of you, legs shaking around his head, lines of his spit dripping down your ass and onto the sheets, he lets you go with a hard slap on your sex, and you nearly wail.

“That’s my girl,” he says. “Yeah, you missed me, huh? You missed it like this, didn’t you? Tell me.”

“Unnng …” a high whine, “Ransom.”

“I know,” he mumbles, kissing up your belly, your neck, your ear.

He moves into position, entering effortlessly after all his prep work, and the shine of your juice still on his beard is fucking unholy hot. He’s grinning and panting, eyes fluttering briefly as he slides home.

“I know it’s big, baby. But you can take it, you’re gonna take it.” He’s a fraction unfocused, letting himself enjoy how you squeeze around him before he begins to punish.

Jesus, you missed this. Missed the agonizing drag of his shaft that feels like it goes on and on forever. Miss the way you get full of him, miss how it almost hurts.

His hipbones are hitting against yours, a steady fast rhythm because he’s experienced like that. Whereas some others might go faster when you’re close, Ransom stays at the pace that got you there in the first place. If anything, he pushes just a bit harder, makes you listen to the sound of his skin on yours, the choke of your breath he punches out.

You crunch yourself up smaller, toes touching the headboard now. Anything to get him further in.

“Fuck, you’re a slut,” he laughs. “Pretty little slut, god you don’t give it up like this for anyone else, do you?”

There’s not enough sense in you to argue even if you wanted to. The room is swimming, undulating, slipping further and further out of reach as the bed rocks and squeaks in protest. You’re sure you met a very handsome guy at the bar weeks ago but as soon as he started hinting that he was interested and stirred up conversation by asking your major, you left.

It just… wasn’t there. It wasn’t the same. No way in hell.

That boy wouldn’t have done this—wouldn’t be planting one foot on the bed, the other knee still down, enormous hands tight on your hips and crashing in.

You could cry, it feels so goddamn good.

Tears dribble their way out from the corner of your eyes. You turn your face enough to get a breath of fresh air, gulping it in frantically between the drive of Ransom’s cock and the half second he slides out.

You vaguely register his hand moving from your hip to your cheek, knuckles brushing upward.

“Oh,” he sighs, “pretty, pretty girl.” He slows his pace, nearly stilling. You squirm beneath him, inching away from how deep he is inside you, how intimate it feels as he kisses the hollow of your cheek and then toward your brow.

“So sweet for me,” he says, pulsing, making you whine with how he pushes against your sore walls. “Did I make a slut out of you? Huh? Make you stupid for my dick?”

“Make me come,” you say. “Make me—“

“Ask me real nice, baby. Ask daddy to make you come.”

You want to hit him. Kill him.

“No?” He whispers into the sensitive shell of your ear, “You don’t want it?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, embarrassment clawing up your face, but Ransom’s hold is tighter, sharper, and he really is— so fucking right. You want it. And he’s made you a little stupid, so yeah--

“Please make me come, daddy. I wanna come.”

The Cheshire grin that unfurls on his face is more panther than cat. “You wanna come on daddy’s big cock?”

“Yes, daddy,” you admit. “I wanna so bad.”

“Oh, that’s it, baby. You’re a good girl, aren’t you. You put on a little show just for me? Act like you don’t want it but soon as I get in you and you let me lay you out anywhere, make you say anything.”

You turn away but he’s got your fucking number— got you as a boneless, spineless mess beneath him as he begins to fuck you again, and harder, his calculating, beautiful, cruel face hanging above you like a fever dream.

“You gonna come? Gonna cry?”

He’s melting away, he’s everywhere, and the lights behind your eyelids are starting to glare and threaten to explode.

“Gonna come for daddy, huh. That’s it, baby. That’s my girl, let me feel your pussy— ah— there it is— you can’t help it, can you? Mmm, swallow daddy’s cock with your pussy.”

Your orgasm is a wreck of curses and teeth on Ransom’s shoulder when he drops down close enough to make contact. You shake and whimper, struggling to calm yourself through the aftershocks.

When you’re done, still floaty but more aware, the mess of your humming insides less tight around him, he pulls out and shuffles up until his swollen tip is at your chin.  

You obey wordlessly, and afterwards, when the flex of his shaft is tell-tale, and he empties into your mouth, you hold it there, show him the mess.

“Baby,” he says, slowly making his way back down, admiring the come submerging your tongue.

Ransom licks his lips, licks the inside of his cheek, and leans back over again, his eyes liquid darkness and pleased as punch. And he drops a line of spit on top, drools it down over your teeth, into your mouth, and says, “Good girl.”

-

“You need a new laptop.” He’s tugging his belt until the clasp hooks into place.

“I don’t.”

“It looks old.”

“So do you.”

He bristles, offended. And you try, with as much dignity as you can muster after the last two hours of being fucked blind, to not look so smug about it.

“See you next week,” he hums.

You don’t say anything in response, only listening for the same heavy footsteps slam back downstairs—perhaps a fraction lighter—and the clunk of the door swinging shut. A long breath and you stretch slowly, letting your body regain its normal shape before he bent you into a goddamn pretzel. A few minutes pass, and then a few more, and you hear the roar of his car speed out of the parking lot.

Safe now, out of his reach, you amble back up into your computer chair to face the awful white, blank document staring back like a judgmental audience. You slide in and crack your neck, feeling the throb between your thighs yield to a less uncomfortable ache.

The problem, you’ve learned after leaving Ransom’s world, was that you had been ill-equipped to play his game. His game, and by extension, Meg’s game. All the Thrombeys and Drysdales and everyone in-between.

They belonged to a class you couldn’t really understand unless you were making a fucking killing—and graduation was just around the bend, so maybe you would, one day—but you were in the red with 45 grand of student debt and staring down the barrel of a subsequent degree because it was getting hard to make it with just a single bachelor’s in anything.

There was too much to do and not enough time to be jerked around by Ransom—not nearly enough time to feel frustrated about your situation in any sense. No, scraping by taught you to survive. You couldn’t be whisked off to the Caymans for brunch, couldn’t be fucked raw in hotel infinity pools, get lost for days meandering the Pacific on luxury yachts for the fun of it.

Your world was a little more drab, a little less rose-tinted.

So it was back to normal now, back to the grind, back to not wasting any part of your week on shitty dates, shitty sex, and coming home more frustrated than you left it. Because there was Ransom, so eager to make some kind of statement about proving you wrong that he’d be the last to know when he’s being used.

And maybe 4 out of 5 therapists would say that your coping mechanism to a normal sex drive is unhealthy—mind-fucking and regular-fucking your ex/not-ex will do that—but you wouldn’t know. You can’t afford therapy just yet.

You rub your back, patting out the tightness of overworked muscles. It doesn’t feel any worse than the cramp you’d gotten after staying up three nights in a row cramming for finals.

As if your brain has reset, your fingers begin tapping on the keys, and you realize your writer’s block’s been lifted.

[toshidou]

oddly specific british hcs . . .

characters // the 141 (simon "ghost" riley, john "soap" mactavish, kyle "gaz" garrick, john price)

an // don't ask me what this is, because i really don't have an answer for you. my brain just spat this out at me mid walk and for some reason i decided to post it here. i am so sorry.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

He's scared shitless of Year 7s, despite knowing full well that he was one of those little bastards when he was a kid. Not much puts the fear of god into him, yet something about a group of little shitheads who think they own the world has him crossing to the other side of the street at the sight of them.

Got suspended from school one time for stealing one of the dildo's from the RE classroom and supergluing to the seat of the kid who tried to bully him.

Got good grades at school. Not because he put in the effort, but because he stole all the exam answers from his teachers desk and spent the night before the exam memorising it all. "Work smarter not harder" was his motto.

Once got lost in a Primark. He was only looking for some cheap sleep wear, and ending up somewhere stuck between rows of Disney clothes and screaming children on leashes.

Has an unhealthy obsession with Monster energy drinks, he once drank so many in a row he went temporarily blind in his left eye. Still drinks them to this day.

John "Soap" Mactavish

He once had a full on mental breakdown in ALDI because the cashier was scanning things too quickly and he couldn't keep up.

Has started several fights in pubs because someone insulted Iron-Bru, both Simon and Price have had to drag him out of nearly all of them kicking and screaming garbled Scottish insults.

Used to dip his sherbet dib dab in dirt as a kid.

Once got in trouble in maths class for spelling "80085" on his calculator and laughing so hard he pissed himself.

The only time he laughed that hard again was when the Queen kicked the bucket. Price looked nothing short of disturbed.

If one more person comes up to him and yells "DISGUSTANG" in an exaggerated and shit Scottish accent, he's going to commit serial arson.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Went to private school, and gets bullied for it by the entire 141 as soon as they find out. They rib him even harder after they find out he was head boy.

Got invited to a night out in London by one of his rich acquaintances from school, which ended up being The Box. That night single-handedly gave him more PTSD than any mission he's ever been on.

Has personal beef with Percy Pig after he almost choked to death on one, and to this day he will never live it down that Ghost had to give him the Heimlich.

Has an unhealthy addiction to the Spice Girls. Sometimes he forgets he lives on a military base and still sings "Wannabe" at full volume in the showers. He's had to swear Soap to secrecy on numerous occasions.

His favourite Spice Girl is Scary Spice.

Captain John Price

His biggest guilty pleasure is listening to Take That. He'd first heard them first thanks to his mother being worryingly obsessed, and started mockingly singing along to their songs on brief phone calls from his barracks after he'd first joined. Little did he know that soon he too would unironically love their music. And yes, he cried when Robbie left the band. It's a secret he's taking to the grave.

Hates Waitrose with a burning passion, he once threw a fit over the price of a packet of peanuts and scared the middle-aged woman and her baby two aisles down.

Saw Gaz choking on a Percy Pig, and then proceeded to buy him every available Percy Pig related merchandise for Christmas.

Loves vinegar on his chips from the chippy, and when he found out the smell makes Soap gag, suddenly he loves his chips drowning in it.

[smallpeniscollective]

Out by the Fire

Daryl Dixon x Reader (18+)

Summary: (takes place in early season 3 in the prison, before all the governor stuff) Daryl and the reader share a sweet moment by the fire.

Minors please DNI !!

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: confessions, some cursing, mentions of walkers, sexual content, p in v sex, unprotected sex

*~*~*

The flames of the fire licked the night sky, a thin stream of gray smoke pilfering into the air. With no electricity in this new world, the stars were astoundingly visible. The large yard of the prison felt so empty with just her and Daryl out by the small fire, and the night was only getting colder, but she couldn't leave Daryl by himself.

"Y'know, Daryl, I used to be a vegetarian before everything happened," she said, attempting to start a conversation. She was picking at the squirrel meat from the hunt he had gone on for the group earlier that day.

"Well, that's dumb. Ya gotta eat yer meat. Only way to get protein," he huffed, side-eyeing her barely touching her food with the smallest hint of concern in his eyes.

"Yeah, I, uh... I watched Bambi as a kid, and the scene where the hunter shot his mom made me swear off eating anything with a face," she said softly, smiling lightly to herself as she remembered her normal childhood of Disney movies and DVD players and those huge thick TVs with the staticky screens. "My mom used to scold me for not eating enough protein..." A lump caught in her throat, the memory of her old family being too much to bear. "Bet she's real proud of me now," she attempingly joked, squeezing it out in a choked whisper, tears blurring her vision. She turned, quickly wiping her eyes before any real tears fell down her cheeks.

"Course she's proud of ya, ya made it this far wit' no walkers takin' ya down," he grunted, getting visibly uncomfortable. She assumed that it was because he just hated seeing people cry, but his words did bring her some sense of comfort. She looked over at him to find he was staring hard at the fire, like he just couldn't look her back in the eyes.

"Thanks, that means a lot," she whispered, returning her gaze to the flickering of the fire.

"Sorry 'bout yer family," he stuttered out, as if he was trying to find the right words as he spoke.

"Sorry about yours," she returned quietly. She took a chance to scoot closer to him, telling herself it was because he was radiating such heat in the cold, but deep down she just wanted to be closer. She could see him physically tense up as he sensed her getting close, but he didn't move away. "I like sitting with you, Daryl," she admitted, slowly resting her head on his broad and warm shoulder. "It feels nice."

It feels nice? God, you sound like a schoolgirl with a crush, she thought to herself, chastising herself for the simplicity of her statement, until she heard a gruff response from him.

"Yeah, it does."

Smiling to herself, she let herself finish eating the squirrel meat, ignoring the fact that it used to be a little woodland creature because he caught it for her. And she was grateful for it. For him.

A slight breeze of cold air swept through the prison yard, causing a chill to creep up her spine and her skin to break out in goosebumps. The winter was only just ending, and the spring was starting out just as cold. She was hardly prepared for the cold. Hell, she had nothing, just the summer clothes on her back and the supplies shared by the group. Slightly shivering, she felt her teeth start to uncontrollably chatter embarrassingly loud.

Suddenly, a thick warm arm was thrown around the back of her shoulders. He rubbed the side of her arm in an effort to create warmth for her. "Don't be gettin' sick out here on a count a' me."

"To be honest, Daryl, I'd do a lot of things for you... getting sick is nothing," she chuckled, not realizing she had just confessed a hint of feelings for him. And then she felt his hand stop rubbing her arm. Instead, he was gripping her arm, holding her to him tightly.

She lifted her head off of his shoulder, looking up at his face, attempting to read his facial expression. It looked thoughtful, stoic, as if he couldn't decide what to do or say next. Carefully, he said quietly, "Y/n, I care for this group a lot... but I care for ya even more somehow..."

She grinned unabashedly, tilting her head to bat her lashes. He stared at her face with question, waiting for her response, and glanced quickly at her lips. She noticed this quick glance and returned the favor, asking just above a whisper, "Daryl, can I kiss you?"

She was always the bold one, the one who made the first move, the one who joined him whenever he was alone, the one who initiated their conversations. She knew that Daryl struggled to speak his mind, let alone speak to people at all. She didn't mind, she herself was too impatient to wait for him to make a move.

And he silently appreciated her making the moves that he wanted to, yet at the same time felt insecure in the fact that he could barely bring himself to speak to her, when she was so special to him, so different from the rest. Every time he could just hear Merle in his head calling him a pussy for not taking the several chances she laid out for him. But in this moment, the only thing he could hear was the soft heaving of her breaths from the anticipation of hearing an answer to her question, the crackling fire, the slight breeze in the wind, the ground beneath him crunching after every move he made. It was exciting and panic-inducing and electrifying... but mostly it was peaceful.

For the first time in his life, he chose to not overthink, and to act on his feelings. He grasped the sides of her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks, fingers digging into her soft hair, and he leaned in, pulling her to him. When their lips collided, it felt like time truly stood still and all there ever was was her. Her touch. Her taste. Her sound. He allowed himself to feel peace in her touch and excitement in himself.

Their mouths connected in a hot, soft, fleshy mush, and she noticed the taste of cigarettes and the slight scent of sweat and dirt. Her hands flew to him, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. The kiss that had started passionately quickly grew heated as all of the deep, harrowing loneliness in her that had gone unanswered and untouched in this cruel new world engorged itself into something bigger, something entirely desperate. Their lips moved in rhythm as their bodies slowly pressed together, him moving his hands from her face to wrap around her waist, and she, in return, wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her fingers in his hair, feeling the soft strands on her fingertips.

Needing a breath, she pulled her head back, panting and a little kiss-drunk on the sudden heat of the moment. Giggling, she said, "Damn, Daryl, you sure can kiss."

He went quiet, relaxing from his state of intensity. He looked down to where their bodies were pressed against each other's and couldn't help but notice the swell of her breasts up against his chest. He found himself becoming aroused, unwilling to pull away from her but hoping she wouldn't notice the hardness beginning to grow in his pants.

Of course she noticed. Feeling confident after their shared kiss, she leaned further into his lap with a slight grind against his hips, causing a small groan to escape his lips. She knew she wanted this, needed this, to relieve a deep ache in her core that he awakened the second he pulled her close. Not wanting to take this any further without confirmation, to make sure this is what he wanted as well, she leaned in close to his face and gently placed her palm on his abdomen right above where her hips rested against his. Her lips brushed against his as she whispered with a timid yet pleading tone, "Can I?"

In response, Daryl wrapped his muscular arms tightly around her waist and spoke against her lips assuredly, "Darlin', I been thinkin' about doin' this with ya since I first ever saved yer ass from the walkers."

Immediately, she locked her lips onto his and heavy-handedly palmed him through his worn down pants. He inhaled sharply, pulling her by the waist to turn her around and lay her down beside the fire. She fumbled with his pants zipper, slowly pulling it down and purposefully grazing her hand against the tent in his boxers. He groaned again, harder this time, and ground his clothed erection against her. The pressure sweeping against her loins pushed her arousal further, and she could feel a warm wet patch developing in her panties, and she quickly moved to wrap both of her arms around his neck, fingers spreading through his hair, and kissed him deeper, sweeping her tongue across his lips to invite his own tongue into her mouth.

His fingers slid under the hem of her shirt, brushing against her warm bare skin. The sudden contact from his chilly fingers caused her to breathe in sharply. He slowly slid her shirt up, dragging his fingers against her sides, disconnecting their lips and bodies momentarily to pull her shirt over her head, exposing her little black bra. His eyes locked in immediately on her chest, his erection reaching its peak hardness. She arched her back, her hips rubbing against his to nonverbally remind him to press his lower body against hers once more, and he willingly obliged.

He locked eyes with her once, a slight shimmer in his eyes that said, "God, you're beautiful," without him having to say a word out loud, before dropping his head to attach his lips her neck, sucking on the tender flesh with wet hot lips, making the softest whiny moan slip from her lips. He squeezed her tightly in response, and it excited her, making her feel like in this moment she was entirely and completely his.

His lips moved from her collarbone to down to her chest, and she arched her back high to reached behind her and undo the hooks, loosening her bra so that he could remove it, and he did, pulling the straps quickly down her arms, and got goosebumps from the chilly air hitting her naked chest. His large hands were drawn to her exposed breasts, resting his hands under them and rubbing his thumbs gently over the hardening sensitive buds, which only made her entrance feel warmer and wetter. She heatedly pulled his sleeveless button up over his head quickly, reveling in his broad manly torso.

He pulled himself back to be able to pull her pants off, sliding them down her legs, revealing her drenched panties, and placed his warm hand between her legs, brushing two large fingers against the wetness of her underwear. "Damn," he whispered to himself, admiring her arousal. She gasped at the contact. He hooked his fingers in the sides of her panties and pulled them down, leaving her naked in front of the fire, the view from the prison hidden by the tall grass.

She reached for the hem of his pants, her body aching for more contact, and he pulled his pants and boxers down together, past the brown tuft of body hair, enough to reveal his hard length. She took it in her hand, tenderly swiping her thumb over the slit of the head, using his pre-cum as a lubricant for the tip, eliciting a breathy grunt from him. He wrapped his larger hand over hers, and she helped him guide his length towards her hot wet entrance. Her body's anticipation betrayed her by having a small whine creep out of her throat, signaling to him that she was not only ready for him, but needy for him as well.

The first push hurt a little, her walls stretching out for the first time in a very long time, but the second he was buried to hilt, she had adjusted and all she could feel was how full her lower abdomen felt, drawing a slow and deep moan out of her. She hadn't noticed how big he was in the dim light of the fire, but inside and deliciously stretching her, he felt huge. He started teasingly slow, pulling out of her at a leisurely pace, making her wrap her arms around his neck and pull her to him tightly and burying her face in his neck. He left a gentle kiss on her head as he began pushing in and pulling out at half-speed, sending waves of pleasure through her body. In this moment, their bodies felt like two puzzle pieces designed to connect together, and the euphoric sensation inside of her was setting her nerves ablaze and sending tingles all the way down to her fingers and toes.

By this point, she was a moaning mess, and he thrusted harder with every whimper he heard muffled against his neck. Strings of curse words left her mouth as she felt herself becoming absolutely intoxicated by the pleasurable tightness building in her, tightening her walls around his length. He began to thrust harshly, pounding hard and starting to hit a spot deep in her that had her curling her toes. Her moans became so obscenely loud, he instinctively threw a hand up to cover her mouth. "Darlin', yer gonna have to be a lot quieter than that," he grunted in her ear, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine.

The shivers, the deep pounding, and the spot in her that he hit so right all combined together to send her to the edge, her loud moans turning over to desperate teary-eyed whines, and he removed his hand from her mouth. She tightened on him so hard that he almost finished on the spot, so he teasingly slowed his pace down to an agonizing speed, making her squeeze him tightly with her thighs and grip his hair a little too hard. "God, Daryl, please don't stop," she begged, sounding almost pathetic in her pleading tone.

"Don' worry, sweetheart, I gotcha," he soothed quietly, and snaked a hand down her front, using a hot, thick finger to rub slowly on her clit, and this was it. With the addition of the action on her clit, the building tightness in her abdomen exploded with hot pleasure and tingles, leaving her a shivering, sweaty mess. And with the queue of her finishing, his thrusting picked up speed and he pounded into her once more. She was still so sensitive that his movements felt orgasmic, continuing the waves of explosive pleasure bursting through her until his pace came to a stuttering halt and with a deep groan, she felt a new warmth fill her up inside, feeling it spill and leak out from her entrance still wrapped around his member.

He dropped his body weight on her in a huff, burying his head in the crook of her neck, and she giggled at his exhausted state. They were both panting and weak and so sweaty.

In the most meek she had ever heard his voice, he joked, "Damn, baby, ya sure know how to leave a man weak as hell."

She laughed loudly, feeling blissful and ignorant to the world around them. She dragged her nails up his back softly, giving him a little back scratch for all the hard work he did. He groaned in a peaceful way to let her know it felt good, and for a moment it seemed like they were the only two people in the world.

The fire nearly dwindled out, letting them know it was time to get dressed and head inside. She could feel herself becoming bashful again, now that the hot passion was only lingering, and whispered with a shy smile, "Thank you for that, Daryl... I really appreciate... it."

She mentally slapped herself after that statement. I really appreciate it? Is this a formal exchange? The fuck is wrong with you? she thought to herself, but at the same time thinking it was a little comical that that was her natural awkward response. She put her clothes back on quickly.

He gave a small chuckle as he pulled his shirt back over his head. "Darlin', ya don't have to thank me, that was fer me too."

He put out the remains of the fire, taking her hand to sneak her back in quickly and quietly, as to not alert or wake up any of the group and led her back to her cell.

He gave her a quick kiss before trying to respectfully leave her alone to sleep in her cell, but she grabbed his hand and looked up into his eyes with the softest of pleading eyes and whispered, "Would you stay with me?"

He stopped, looking around worriedly, but ultimately gave into her desire, stepping up to her and sitting her down on the bed. "Sweetheart, I'd do anythin' for ya. Yer my girl now, and I'd never let nothin' happen to ya."

She smiled softly with tired eyes and pulled his hand to lead him onto the cell mattress with her. She faced the wall and he wrapped his warm body around hers, holding her too him, and rested his chin against the back of her head and made a small noise of content.

She giggled, "Y'know, when they find us in the same cell tomorrow, we're gonna have some explaining to do."

And then he said, "Yer my girl now. That's all they need t'know."

*~*~*

A/N: AHHH that was my first little oneshot for you guys, literally feel free to request anything, but I must ask that requests are made for seasons 1-3 bc I’m only just now rewatching after stopping at season 4 and I know a lot of spoilers but I don’t know the details of what happens after season 4, but omg !! Lmk if u guys like it and want more lol

[just-an-enby-lemon]

Steph: Hey, wouldn't it be hilarious if all B's villains had backstories like the new Disney villain-centric movies?

Barbara: Explain.

Tim: Oh! I get it is like Riddler is evil because a riddle killed his mom!

Barbara: But wouldn't that make so he hated riddles?

Tim: Maybe he hated his mom? You don't know!

Duke: Or maybe he hates riddles and uses them to stop himself and protect the world for the evil he truly represents... Nah, that's stupid.

Barbara: No, no go on.

Steph: It was funny as hell.

Duke: The Riddler hating riddles was not the stupid conspiracy theory I thought I would make for Tim today.

Barbara: How many conspiracy theories did you even made for Tim?

Tim: Does the ones he made for Bernard count?

Duke: A magician never revels their secrets.

Barbara: You're not a magician.

Steph: He could be. Anyway before this ends up with someone giving Duke a box of magic tricks for begginers made for seven year olds *looks pointedly at Babs, she shrugs* my idea was that the number two died trying to save Two-Face's grandma from the other numbers.

Barbara: Okay, this one makes more sense. What about Scarecrow lost his puppie because of a horror movie?

Tim: You judge me but that means Crane would hate fear. So check mate.

Barbara: No, no, hear me out, he lost the puppie because the dog was too brave and stayed during the whole movie. If if had runned afraid it would have been fine.

Duke: My turn! I present all the books they had falled into Mad Hatter's dad killing him except somehow the Alice in Woonderland book that stayed in the shelve so he sweared to never read another book ever again?

Steph: Love it.

Cass: *was always there but hidden in the corner* Great. May I?

Duke, Tim and Steph:*surprised jump scare noises*

Babs: Please. Be our guest.

Cass: Killer Moth was raised by moths. Bruce accidentaly killed his third aunt as a child because he tried to pick it and show Alfred but was too strong.

Duke: You are a genius.

Steph: It's better than whatever official backstory he has.

Dick: *just came back from a mission* What are you guys doing?

Tim: Creating stupid rogues origin stories.

Dick: It seems fun. Let me try... huh... Oswald became Penguin because a Penguin flew through his window the moment he was considering becaming a criminal .

Damian: *was in the mission with Dick* May I try? Joker is a villain because his mother had depression and his jokes never made her happy.

Dick: Holy shit! Too heavy, lil D.

Duke: Sadge.

Tim: It looks like a soap opera plot.

Damian: I DO NOT watch soap operas with umi. SHUT UP!

Tim: Whoa there is a lot to unpack here.

Damian: Say one more word and I'll kill you Drake.

Duke: My bet is on Dami.

Cass: Bet Tim survives but barely.

Dick: Let's all calm down a bit. Maybe Joker became a villain because a mean kid said he wasn't funny.

Jason: *coming out of nowhere* What about Joker became a villain because he sucks?

Steph: That's just real life, Jay. We are trying to have fun here.

Jason: *rolls his eyes* Fine. Let me try again. All of B villains had their family killed by a bat. All of them. The same day, the same bat. Better?

Steph: Amazing!

Tim: Wait a second.

Damian: What now, Drake?

Tim: Bane has a Cruella type backstory!

Babs: *eyes getting huge* Holy shit he kindda has.

Cass: Explain.

Tim: When in the pit because a lot of irrelevant trauma things Bane had nightmares with a half bat half man creature attacking him so his solution was to crack B's spine in half.

Dick: Okay we need to make a Cruella Bane song.

Babs: Is not that close of a backstory.

Dick: So you don't want a Cruella Bane song?

Babs: Good point. I stand corrected.

[povbeth]

six roses | percabeth (0)

series masterlist

chapter summary: it's been two years since percy left town (read: annabeth), and neither of them can stop thinking about each other.

wc: 2.8K

warnings: it's just a lot of emotional constipation and regret and sadness and- [car crashes into me]

a/n: hellooooo :p honestly don't know what i'm doing bc nobody posts percabeth fanfic on tumblr but guess what? i do! i've been wanting to do a series like this for a while so i'm glad i'm finally getting started on it. lmk what you think here!

also posted on ao3

prologue: thinking about you.

Grover has been watching Annabeth lose herself for the last few hours. 

Had she known, Annabeth would argue that Grover does this every morning. But today doesn’t follow their normal routine. The two canceled their shift at work for the next morning and took an early leave to prepare. Instead of locking her bedroom door and rotting in bed, Annabeth hobbled over to her best friend's house for a night with no sleep and a bag full of candy, ready to binge watch Disney classics till the sun peeks through the windows. 

It’s an annual event, one that follows a 10 year tradition; One the same day every year, Annabeth and Grover have a sleepover, in which they total approximately two hours of sleep and six hours of movies. 

It’s supposed to be fun, and Annabeth does find it fun. But for the last two years, it’s been different. Tainted. Scarred. And Grover knows this, but will never say it out loud. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

He’ll make her say instead. 

She’s not surprised at the question. Really, it was inevitable. Grover knows what joy looks like, and he knows what a lack of it looks like on Annabeth. She could feel his eyes observing her as she stared at Lilo and Stitch without a single tear rolling down her cheek. He can always count on her to sing along with Gaston, but not a peep left her lips. He knows how emotional the Little Mermaid gets you, but he couldn’t hear a sniffle from her. 

She doesn’t bother turning her head to face him. She won’t let him see the silent tear trails on her face. “You already know.”

Does he ever wonder?

Does he ever wonder like I do?

About the memories he’s left behind on a whim, in the hopes for a dream that was miles away. Away from the town he’s been in since he could babble a few incoherent words, towards a city filled with unfamiliar faces Away from the town he can only remember by your name. 

About the memories that haunt her at night, but they swear they’re here to keep her at ease. They should be comforting, but they’re holding her tight enough to be suffocating. 

Maybe they’ll let her sleep tonight if she cries a bit. Just a teeny bit. 

Before she knows it, her eyes are teary. Grover feels her shift on the makeshift bed the two made on the ground. “You good?”

Nights spent on the phone talking about forever, an eternity that would only last a little over a year. Had the word stayed true to its meaning, she wouldn’t have hated it. Spending forever with him. She’d sigh and tell him this in hushed whispers as she’d lay in bed with her phone beside her pillow, and he’d giggle a bit. If she wasn’t too caught up with the idea of eternity with him, she would’ve realized that he’d never reply with confirmation. That he thinks about it too, that her idea of forever exists in the realm of possibility. 

Did he ever toy with forever like I had?

She doesn’t respond to the silent boy next to her, who waits for some kind of response. There’s a pile of memories clogged in her blue veins, and they choose tonight to flow properly. 

And so she does what she knows best. 

Lie. 

“I’m good.”

Her memories unravel themselves quickly. They’re only a few years old, but they’ve learned fast.  Really, they’re not evil in nature – sneaking out at one in the morning to see him at a park near her house, writing exclamations of love into his skin during class, holding his hand as he walks her home – but they’re sharp. Short strands, but they have an edge to them. They know where to poke her, where to prod, where to stab. Like shards of glass, meeting her chest with good aim. 

(But it doesn’t seem like an issue. She’d relive them in her head regardless of the pain.)

It doesn’t take Grover long to realize that she won’t say anything more than that. Instead of pushing for an answer, he lazily turns his body to face her. “I miss him too, y’know.”

And that’s what makes Annabeth break. 

Because it’s not just her – it’s Grover, her cousin, and more importantly, his best friend. The boy he’d known way before you, since the two were in pre-school, squalling nonsense that only made sense to them. Brothers who knew each other better than themselves (though Grover would argue that he never really knew him). 

Grover’s hurt too, and it makes everything hurt more. 

She’s sobbing before she knows it, staining her cheeks and pillow in the process. It’s an unmapped cry that escapes her, one that doesn’t sound like her. She tries to pin it on something – regret, distaste, sorrow – yet it doesn’t land quite right. Must be something ugly, something that can only exist in a person who’s come across Percy Jackson.

“It’s been two years,” she manages through the tears. “And I’m still feeling like this.”

“I know.” Grover comforts her. She’ll never know it, but the tears he holds back are only for her. 

“He doesn't even think about us. And I know he did it for himself, for his career, for his family, but it’s just… I don't know–”

“You feel greedy,” Grover tries to grasp. “for wanting him to stay–”

“No, that’s not it!” she barely recognizes the noise that’s coming out her throat. Is this what her memories have done? Turned her into a foreigner of her own voice? “That's not even what I wanted! I just – I just wanted him to tell me… and to tell you…”

…that he was leaving. Not that he didn’t – he did, just on the day of. 

That’s one memory that she can’t unravel. She doesn’t remember how her day started, or how the conversation came about. All she recalls is the moment he said, “I have to leave.”

The rest is a blur. She remembers looking at him incredulously, as if he was joking. She remembers arguing with him, angry at him for choosing to tell her now, when his ride to the big apple was an hour away. She remembers watching him leave, his shoulders slouched as he walked away from the ruins of their relationship. 

She wonders what remains of her now. In his mind, perhaps he only remembers a lousy town with a girl with perpetual mascara running down her face. Maybe he remembers her name, not her face. Maybe she’s a distant memory that he can’t bother to recall, not when he’s at the peak of his career. 

Years pass, and so do her emotions. Hatred has dissolved in her heart, but she’s sure she can build it back up if she wants to. She’s more understanding, that maybe it was for the best. Sure, she wishes he executed things better. But she gets it – Percy was a boy with dreams. And she, better than most people, should know what it means to reach for them. 

It means to sacrifice the things you love the most – and maybe, it was proof that he did love her, at least back then. If that were the case, she wishes that she wasn’t on the top of the list. 

Maybe nothing of her remains, and that’s what scares her the most. Especially when his everything is engraved in her. 

It’s been exactly two years since the day he left, yet the realization only settles in her bones now – she’s afraid that she’s worth nothing more than dust to the boy who once loved her from the sun and back. 

The truth is, Percy wonders too much.

His ‘friends,’ if that’s what he could call them, told him the night was still young. To be clear, it was an hour past midnight, and Percy just wanted to crash at his hotel room. 

To be even clearer, he didn’t know these guys well. He's seen a few of them in that new movie with vampires, and the others are fellow singers whose songs he’s heard far too many times. They smile on the red carpet, baring their fancy looks for the cameras, and wipe the smiles off their faces as soon as they take a step off it. He thinks it’s fair – he’s done the same today – but it doesn’t excuse them from being absolute assholes to everyone who isn’t an A-list celebrity. 

Of course, Percy doesn’t fit in the category of nobodies for them. He’s topping the charts with every new release and bagging every award he’s been nominated for. To the famous clique, he’s one of them, just haven’t been acquainted yet. 

So when Percy happened to have a table near theirs, they invited themselves over with a bottle of alcohol that he swears was not on the menu. 

Percy knew nobody besides Jason, his first friend in the industry, and his only friend at this event. He'd really been hoping that he and Jason could leave without anyone noticing. Like the incredible actor he was, his friend called Percy’s manager and convinced her that the two of them were actually feeling sick. 

“Never going to a gala again,” Jason groans as they enter the hotel lobby. “That was terrible.”

“Yeah,” Percy mumbles. “I just wanna crash right now.”

Percy has never been a man of many words, Jasons noticed. He’s still the shy boy from the small town, even when he has to smile at the paparazzi that followed him practically everywhere. But today in particular, Percy hasn’t been talking much.

Despite the obvious lack of words from the raven haired boy, Jason says nothing. Even as they head up the elevator, the two stand in silence. It’s comfortable, but it’s different from their usual fall of words. Percy’s eyes are closed, not in concentration, but in an exhaustion that Jason can’t seem to pinpoint. 

Jason doesn’t know anything about the town Percy left behind two years ago. He doesn’t know that today marks two years since he’s left it behind, and wouldn’t understand the weight that it holds, even if Percy were to tell him. 

He’s been wanting to ask if something is wrong for the past few hours, and so he finally does. He's not expecting much, but Percy looks at him as if he’s finally hit his tipping point. 

And that’s how Jason finds himself in Percy’s hotel room, having been dragged into the room by his older friend. He’s concerned, surprised by the sudden emotional act Percy’s put on. 

“It’s just…” he heaves as he sits down on his bed. “It's been a long day.”

An understatement at its finest. He knew what awaited him – beyond the gala, there was his family. Sure, they’ve been on good terms, great even, but the weight of his ticket back home seems to weigh the room down. There’s his friends from back home, whose texts pile up on his phone (which Percy ignores). 

And then there’s Annabeth. Clouding his thoughts before he woke up, appearing in his dreams and haunting him before he could take his first breath of the day. 

It’s a given, he thinks, knowing that he’s made peace with everything else back in town. His parents were always supportive, his friends came to understand. But there’s a distance of time and heart between Annabeth and him, and the fact that it’s tainted his perception of who she is now has him begging God to shrink him into nothing. 

So his day was rough. He can’t recall a moment where he didn’t feel an ache in his chest. 

“Wanna talk about it?”

Percy fiddles with the bottom of his tie, rolling the material between his fingers. “well…”

He does, but the last thing he wants to do is say her name out loud. 

“It's been two years since I left my hometown,” he mumbles. It’s easier to say than I broke up with my girlfriend two years ago and haven’t gotten over it since. 

“I see.” Jason says, though he doesn’t really get it. He grew up in the city, and even though the two boys are practically the same, there’s a difference in experience between them. Where Percy grew up was vastly different from this place, so Jason tries to understand. “You miss it?”

“Mhm. I miss my parents, and…”

And Annabeth.

“There's something bugging you,” Jason notes with a frown on his face. “You can tell me, y’know. I won't judge.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you… it’s just complicated, I guess.”

“Well,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I'm all ears.”

Percy doesn’t know what to say. But since his friend’s standing there, leaning against his dresser and waiting for him to speak, he supposes he has to spit it out at some point. 

“Just… thinking about someone.”

“A girl?”

He goes silent for a second too long and Jason panics. “Oh, is it a guy–”

“No, no. It’s my girlfr– well, ex-girlfriend.”

He nods in sympathy. He’s never been in a relationship, but he can imagine how hard breakups can be. “Yhings were rough, I’m guessing?”

Nothing was rough, actually. Things were as perfect as they could possibly be. 

The two were enemies as kids. He remembers bits and pieces – young Annabeth kicking sand in his face, swearing that she’d never go close enough to catch cooties from him. 7-year-old Percy splashing water in her face (read: soaking her with a water bottle) and running away before she could tell his mom. Swore that they’d never be friends unless it rained cows. 

Except things didn’t go as planned; she ended up dating him through highschool, and he ended up leaving her at the end of it. 

“I guess you could say that. We broke up the day I left town.”

Percy doesn’t tell him that it was because of him, or that it happened right before he was leaving for the train station. He doesn’t mention how he was feeling blue for his first year here, and that even though it’s past one year, he feels sick at any memory of you. He doesn’t even say her name, because the weight of his guilt lays heavy on the vowels and it’s too much to bear. 

Instead, Percy does exactly what Jason wanted – unpack how he feels. He lets his feelings escape the lid, listens to them pour out without caring about how selfish he sounds, how terribly hoarse his voice is. 

Annabeth always seems to do this to him. A single memory of her has him feeling like he’s eighteen again. Every memory of that time leads to a dead end, and though a small part of him wishes he could forget her, his mind tends to run back to that time. 

It's incredibly stupid of him to miss her when he was the one who left. He knows this, but can’t help but indulge in the longing he feels. 

And by the time he’s done talking, there’s a box of tissues in his lap and Jason beside him, patting his back as if it could erase every bad emotion he’s feeling.

Jason’s at a loss for words. He didn’t know, but he feels like he should’ve. He should’ve connected the dots when he caught Percy reading old text messages a few days. He should’ve gotten the hint when he saw Percy standing next to another girl as if he was a stiff tree. He should’ve caught on to how his friend never liked to talk about relationships, excusing it as something he wasn’t interested in, despite his unrivaled passion for romcoms.

Percy loves torturing himself by thinking about Annabeth, but talking about her is the opposite – any mention of her seems to bring the mood down for not just him, but everyone around him. The weight of her name is so heavy, it’s a burden on anyone who knows your situation with him. 

It's especially terrible when your Annabeth is inscribed in his heart, his veins adorned with engravings of her. The vessels are shrinking under her load, pressing his chest and squeezing his throat. 

With every mention to Jason, her name escaping his lips makes the weight increase. 

It's been exactly two years since the day he left, yet his heart feels heavier than before. 

[ambcass]

ᴛᴇxᴛ ᴍᴇ, ɪ ᴍɪꜱꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴀʙʏ || ᴊᴀɪᴍᴇ ʀᴇʏᴇꜱ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

a/n: thank you all for your requests! A lot of the fic is in my drafts rn but I can squeeze in a few more. if u see this, feel free to request smth :) THIS IS MY FIRST DARK FIC

MDNI! DEAD DOVES DON'T EAT

tags: Yandere! Jaime, swearing, female reader, helpless reader, kidnapping, angst, fluff if you squint your eyes, obsessive praise (if that makes sense), drugging, needles, fight scenes, knife, blood, PET NAMES USED (babe, baby, good girl, pretty, ect.) NO HAPPY ENDING😊. OUT OF CHARACTER BEHAVIOR

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Jaime loves you so much. He tells you every day how much he can't live without you being in his life. He clings to you like a lost puppy. Following you where ever you're headed. He tries to calm down when you're talking to another guy. Hell, he hates it even more when that guy you're talking to is one of his friends. After your conversation with Bart ended, Jaime walked up to you two and asked you to wait as he pulled Bart aside before coming back. Ever since Bart doesn't speak a word towards you. You obviously knew your boyfriend had something to do with it.

Later that night you guys had an argument. Like all arguments, he says things like “you wouldn’t leave me if you didn’t care.” , “Where’s the old you”, “C’mon my love, don’t act like this.” You always stayed. He said you were the problem and you believed him. You wanted to change, just for him. Not last night though. He sang the same song but you took it from a different approach. You spoke about possessive he’s been acting but he says that “it’s for your own good.”

You stormed out his house with so much frustration flowing through your body. Should of waited until the morning. You walked out his home and into the cold, dark night. Suddenly your phone kept buzzing. You opened it and it’s Jaime begging you to come back. Pleading you to not leave him but you don’t answer.

My Beetle💙: Eres tan dramatica! (You’re so dramatic) You know I just wnat the best for you… please baby text me back❤️

you ignored him. A few minutes later, your phone rings again.

My Beetle💙: I miss you bebe.

ignored again. At this point you were back home, lying on your bed. It got hot, really hot, but you had no AC nor a fan. Best idea you came up was to open your windows, wide. The air ran through your hair like a Disney princess singing a love song. Once more, your phone rings. This time you took a peak at the message.

My Beetle💙: Stop being for difficult for me. Don’t make me get you myself.

You didn’t think much into it. He has never physically hurt you. So you ignored it and went to sleep. What a mistake you made.

You next woke up to beeping and metal softly clashing to each other. Slowly opening your eyes, a head of dark blue and bright, glowing yellow eyes stared at you. You were about to scream for help but this figure covered your mouth and nose with a piece of cloth. You kicked its stomach, rolled out your bed, and ran straight for the door. Before could run out, you turned back around to glance at your bed. He disappeared from your view and nowhere to be seen

I can run now, you thought. You turned back to the door and POW. A punch directly to the face. You fell to the ground. You, knocked up, on the cold bare floor. Your vision was blurry but you felt two fingers pulled your eyelids down to close them. Before you were completely out, you felt yourself being dragged by foot off to somewhere.

Once you woke up and your vision was starting to clear up, it didn’t take you a long time to realize that you were tied up to a chair in an empty room. You tried breaking free but the ropes were too tight. You shouted,

“Help me! Someone please…” Foot steps slowly creeped behind you. That gradually got louder and louder, until they stopped. You felt a presence lean behind you. Then a tip of a knife was then placed right beside your lip.

“Nu uh. Don’t speak sweetheart, unless you want me to carve this pretty little mouth into pieces” This tender, chilling voice could only belong to one person.

“J-jaime!?” Before you knew it, your cheek to slashed. You didn’t scream but you cried. Cried like a little baby with blood oozing out of you and dripping on the floor. Jaime circled around you until you met your gaze. He lifted your chin.

“Let’s take a look at you, shall we?” He pulled out a white paper napkin and started to wipe the dripping blood from your cheek. “Isn’t that much better, mi amor?” Tears were flooding down your eyes. You had so many emotions packed up but you knew you couldn’t show them. The consequences may cost your life.

He whipped out another napkin and wiped your tears for you. “It’s okay pretty, you’re safe with me…” he wrapped your head around his arms and held you close to him.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Jaime lets go. The blood on your cheek stained on to his shirt. He bends down and kisses your wounded cheek.

“Well, my sweet girl didn’t want to listen to me. She didn’t understand how much I wanted to protect her. She insisted on talking to some other guy but me-“ you cut him off before he could finish.

“He’s your best friend! And I’ve known him longer than you did. I don’t know why-“ you tried to prove your point but he slapped you for cutting him off. Left a red handprint on your face.

“You need to learn how to be a good girl for me,” Jaime said in heartless tone. “So the two of us will just spend some quality’s time with each other. For a very long time.” He smirked when he saw you shake your head nonstop. He had the apprehend here. He had full control of you now. He pulled out a needle with some type of drug in it.

“Please Jaime, I’m sorry. I’ll never talk to any guy but you. Don’t do this, I love you.” You pleaded him to stop but he doesn’t. He slowly circled behind you. He brushed his fingertips starting with your head to your arms. He moved your hair aside and kissed your neck softly. You were so focused on this caring side of him, you failed to notice the fact that he was injecting that needle into your immune system. You got tired. Very tired. Your eyesight slowly blurred up as you fluttered eyes more frequently.

“You’ll be good as new when you wake up, I promise” was the last thing you heard from Jaime before it was all black. Last thing your own conscious heard and felt anything.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

HERE, KITTY, KITTY (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Aizawa x Black!Catgirl!Reader

Synopsis: In which you find yourself in the weirdest predicament after you’re scooped up and taken to a cat cafe after you decide to take the streets to fight some crime, and you’re adopted by your very anti-social and hot coworker Aizawa aka Eraserhead.

Story Warnings: Smutty smut, 18+ (MINORS GET AWAY), Swearing, Adult!Reader, Ear and Tail Stroking, Light Degradation, Spanking, Exhibitionism, Multiple Positions, Creampie, Unprotected PIV Sex, Facial, Scent Play, Collaring, Deepthroat, Cunnlingus, Begging, Edgeplay, Power Play, Rope Play/Shibari, Master Kink, Some Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Some Action

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Had some time on my hands in between writing papers to update. I fucking hate school man OH MY GOD...i can't wait to graduate next month. Stay safe, y'all & enjoy! -Jazz

Read on AO3 here!

Other Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Twenty-Five.

*********

SEVEN.

If Eri has any aspirations of being a singer, she’d put Mariah Carey’s career in a fucking coffin with the sheer volume of her wailing. 

Aizawa groans in agony and annoyance at the high–pitched sobs and wails that Eri has been making since early this morning when she found her precious pet missing.

It only got worse when Aizawa told her the black kitten they had both grown accustomed to had run away. He didn’t dare mention the crazy feline jumped out his window and fled across campus, never to be seen again. He didn’t want to hear how loud Eri could get if she learned that. 

He did everything to try and calm her down before he was due for work in an hour, but nothing seemed to work, not even the promise of pancakes for dinner. And Eri loved pancakes for dinner! She just stood in her PJs and wailed, her cute little face as red as a tomato and contorted in sheer, internal pain and anguish. 

“I. W-Want. M-My. Kitty!” she wails, each word punctuated by a sniffle. 

Aizawa stares down at his poor daughter, wishing there was something he could do. He could possibly adopt another cat, but with how close Eri became with that crazy-ass black kitty, can he count on her doing the same with another? 

“Honey, I’m sorry,” he laments, kneeling down to wipe at her tears. “I know you miss her, but I guess she just loved the outdoors more.” 

That was the wrong thing to say because Eri only cries harder, her tiny chest heaving with the sobs that break from her throat. Aizawa swears under his breath. At this rate, she’ll never calm down before he’s due for work, which starts in an hour. He hasn’t showered, changed out of his PJs, or had his coffee. And Aizawa needs his coffee. Otherwise, his head will be fucked up all day. 

However, when he hears a blessed knock at the door, he's sure he has a guardian angel. “Stay here,” he tells Eri before getting up to hurry to his door.

He opens it, finding Mic standing there in his gym clothes and carrying a shitload of stuff for Eri in a backpack that he has reserved only for her: coloring books, juice boxes; Disney DVDs; basically, anything that can distract a child long enough to stop crying. 

Aizawa has never been happier to see his friend. He was hesitant about calling Mic over here on his day off, but Mic also specifically told him that if Aizawa is ever in trouble, Mic is always there. And now, Aizawa is drowning in trouble. 

“Thank God you’re here,” he sighs, relieved as he pulls Mic into his dorm. “Sorry to call on your day off, but I don’t know what the fuck to do. She just keeps screaming. And I have to teach class in an hour.” 

He motions towards Eri who is now sitting on the couch, sobbing away into her hands. Mic immediately puts the backpack down without another word and swoops in to rectify the situation. 

“Heeeey, little listener!” he greets the red-faced girl, plastering on a big smile. “Uncle Mic is here! Now what’s all this about you crying, huh?” He plops down next to her, placing an ankle on his lap and looping an arm behind the couch. 

Eri only stops crying momentarily to tell him what happened, but it comes out as a whine more than anything. “M-My kitty ran awaaaay!”

Aizawa resists the urge to cover his eyes at her wails. He’s never seen her like this before. He’s always felt that he did his best to ensure Eri was at her happiest, even adopting a cat for her to make sure she wasn’t that lonely while he was teaching or patrolling. There aren't too many young kids at UA (her age, anyway) and he knows it would be hard for her to interact with children because of what she’s been through with Overhaul. 

His hands clench as he remembers that time, spending sleepless nights watching over Eri in case she wet the bed again or had another night terror. He vowed then to make her the happiest, but now, seeing her with her face wet and damn near inconsolable, he feels like a failure. 

Mic tuts at his “niece’s” crying and scoots closer to her. “Awww, honey,” he coos, wrapping an arm around her head, and cradling it to his chest. “It’s okay."

“What if she gets hurt?” she sobs into Mic’s chest. “What if she never comes back? W-What if...what if…” Her words fall into broken syllables as she continues to bawl into Mic’s chest, wetting up his pink shirt. 

“You’re sure you wanna watch her on your day off?” Aizawa asks nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. Mic looks at him like he’s insane. “You kidding? I’m this girl’s uncle which means I’m her second dad. If she needs me, I’m here.” 

Aizawa has never been more grateful to have such a good friend. Quickly, he goes to Eri and kneels in front of her, slowly moving her hands from her face. “Hey, sweetie, Daddy has to go to work, okay?” he gently says. 

He’s never seen such terror in her eyes before. She frantically shakes her head, squeezing his hands in hers. “No, Daddy!” she sobs, tearing Aizawa’s heart in two. “Don’t go!”

Aizawa would gladly create a fake villain attack himself to spare himself a day with her, but he knows his responsibilities, and that includes his students. “Puddin’, I’ve got to,” he soothes her, “but listen: how does the sound of ice cream for lunch sound?” 

Eri doesn’t respond nor does she smile. Big, fat tears continue to slide down her cheeks that Aizawa wipes away. “I’ll come back and get you on my break. Be good.” 

He presses a kiss to her cheek before standing and glaring down at Mic in a warning. “If I come back here and see her like this, I’ll–” 

“You’ve got an hour to get ready,” Mic cuts in, barely even heading Aizawa’s warning. “If I were you, I’d stop talking and get ready. Chop, chop!” He claps twice before grinning reassuringly at his friend. “Relax, Shouta; she’s in good hands.” 

Without any more time to spare, Aizawa sprints into his bedroom to get ready for work, his heart splintering at the sound of his daughter’s cries. 

*********

Aizawa has never felt more hopeless than watching his little Eri stare down at her ice cream like she was expecting the damn thing to abandon her two hours later around lunchtime. 

Throughout the day, he’s been worrying over her, wondering if she ever stopped crying or if the cops were called because of her constant wailing. Mic never called or texted him, so he just assumed everything was fine.

However, when he went to pick her up for lunch, she wasn’t the hyper, bubbly girl he’d come to know and love. She was despondent and blue, not even touching smiling at him when he came to pick her up. 

She sits in front of him now at her favorite, quaint little ice cream shop several blocks away from the UA campus, a tight-lipped expression on her face and sadness in her amber eyes. “How’s your ice cream?” he asks, trying in vain to make today seem normal. “You barely touched it, y’know. I thought you liked cookies n’ creme.” 

Eri barely looks at him. Despite looking so cute in her pigtails and frilly dress, it means nothing without her bright smile to add to the outfit. Aizawa sighs, realizing this isn’t going to work. He pushes his cup of chocolate ice cream to the side and leans over to tilt her chin up with his thumb.

“Eri, honey, I know you’re upset about the cat running off, and I’m sorry that she did. I know you really cared about her.” 

The little girl slowly nods and Aizawa cringes. He feels like he just set his daughter up to grieve for her pet as if the animal is worm food by now. Goddammit.

“How about we see if we can find her, hm?” he blurts, going with the first idea he has to fix the situation. “Maybe scout the streets and put out posters.” 

Now, Eri perks up, the light coming back into her eyes. “Really?” she asks curiously, her eyebrows knitting together only adding to her cuteness.

Aizawa nods, just happy to see her smile again. He’d take her to the damn moon to find this cat if it meant he could see her smile. “I’m sure she didn’t go far,” he reassures her. “She’s probably closer than we think she is.” 

“Aizawa?” 

He isn’t sure why he doesn’t recognize your voice when he hears it, especially the way his last name sounds on it: like music. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t heard it in a minute since you supposedly went missing this weekend, but the way his body reacts to the sound of it hits all the same–he instantly freezes and his cock is rock hard. 

It doesn’t get any better when he turns around to see you standing there, a duffle bag hanging over your arm and an iced coffee in your hand.

His eyes greedily and shamelessly trail down your form, drinking in the way you look in your athletic gear: those tight black spandex pants that he’s eager to see from behind and one of those cropped Sherpa pullovers with the zipper pulled down enough to show him a peek of your pink sports bra and the slight curve of your breasts. 

'Oh, my God,' he thinks. Are you fucking kidding him right now? 

Your eyes widen at the sight of him and your trail shoots up straight, meaning you’re happy to see him. Happy to see him.

“I didn’t know you came here!” you giggle, motioning towards the little shop. “I always come here for the coffee.” You shake your iced coffee at him he didn’t notice until now because he was too busy thinking about spending you over. 

“I’m not used to seein’ you out and about either,” you playfully say, appearing easy-going and laidback. The last thing he wants to do is give you the wrong impression. So he closes his mouth (which was slightly parted at the sight of you) and tries to act as normal as possible.

“U-Uh, you too,” he stutters. “Um…you look…different. I-I mean out of your work clothes.” 

He makes a note to drink bleach later. 'Goddammit.'

You don’t seem to think it’s a weird response though. You just giggle that cute little laugh that makes his heart flutter. “Just got done with a yoga class. You look quite different yourself.” She nods at the attire that he changed into before lunch: a loose black tee, jeans, and some boots with his hair tied back into a loose ponytail. Underneath your gaze though, he feels naked. 

“Daddy?” Eri’s soft, little voice drifts to his ears, and he realizes that he is, in fact, sitting with his daughter while thirsting over his crush.

You gasp, covering your mouth embarrassingly. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” you quickly apologize. “I totally ruined your date!” 

Aizawa looks at Eri who curiously stares up at you. “No, it’s completely okay,” he chuckles, liking your humor. “Eri, this is my good friend, Y/N. She works with me at UA. Y/N, this is my…”

His mind pauses, wondering if he should flat-out tell you he has a kid. Niece? Little sister? Cousin?

“Daughter,” he finally decides, hating to lie to you. 

Your wide eyes tick from him to Eri, realizing setting in. “Oh!” you exclaim, looking surprised but not spooked. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Eri. Such a pretty girl you are.” You suddenly gasp, your eyes falling to the buttons decorating the strap of her little pink messenger bag. “And you like Sailor Moon? You have great taste!” 

Eri’s eyes brighten, all of her gloominess suddenly gone. “Who’s your favorite Scout?” you ask curiously.

Eri is more than happy to respond. “Sailor Mercury,” she giggles. “I have a Luna plushy too!” She sits up straighter, all gloominess gone the instant you begin engaging in conversation with her. 

You give her a shocked, open-mouthed look, eyes wide and so expressive that Aizawa wants to laugh. “Mine too! I don’t have a plushie, so you’re lucky. Do you have any more plushies I can be jealous of?” The white-haired little girl practically falls out of her chair to get out her little tablet and show you pictures of all of her plushies. 

As she feverishly talks about each one, you nod along and pay close attention to her, giving eye contact as needed. Aizawa watches in astonishment and utter adoration for you.

He’s never seen someone interact with a child in such a way, and Eri so excitedly to talk to an adult she barely knows. He can almost see this being a new normal, you sitting on his couch as Eri talks about her day, maybe the both of you coloring together before he comes home from patrols and you snuggle the night away. 

He scowls in confusion at the thought. ‘Where the fuck did that come from?’ he thinks.

“Woooww, Eri,” you gasp, gaining his attention. You're obviously over-exaggerating to make the little girl pleased with herself. “You must be rich havin’ all those in your room.” 

Eri giggles at this, shaking her head. “Daddy got them for me!” she proudly states, grinning up at you. “Except for the Pikachu one. My uncle Mic got it for me for Christmas.” 

“Well, that’s very nice of both of them,” you say and shoot Aizawa a wink. You suddenly begin to back away from their table, looking sheepish. “Well, I took up a lot of your time already, so I’ll just–“ 

“Don’t you want some ice cream too?” Eri asks, batting those pretty lashes at you that would make anyone give in to her. Aizawa’s eyes widen at her suggestion and he quickly reacts. “Uh, Eri,” he nervously replies, “Y/N already has plans. We don’t wanna ruin them.”

“I actually don’t have any plans,” you reply, looking flushed under the spring sun .“I took off today to run some errands and I was just gonna go home to do laundry…but that can wait if you’re okay with me joinin’ you.” Your tail swishes quizzically, curling at the tip as you anticipate Aizawa’s answer. 

He is sold the minute he gets a look at that damn tail. “Make room, Eri,” he says as he goes to fetch a chair for you. 

You thank him and sit down next to Eri, showing her your coffee. “I don’t need any ice cream, either. I’m good with just the caffeine.”

You sit with your legs crossed and your ears tiled forward and slightly angled to the side. They twitch every so often when you hear a bird or the honking of a car. Aizawa thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world. He has to ball his hands up into fists to keep from reaching out and petting them. 

Not wanting to be silent the whole time you’re here, he decides to make some kind of conversation. “Nemuri mentioned you went MIA this weekend,” he says, trying to be as easy-going as possible. “Everything okay?” 

Your eyes widen an inch and your ears begin to swivel nervously. You must not have been expecting that question. But then your ears perk back up and you give him a big, wide smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Yeah!” you reply, a little too enthusiastically Aizawa notices. “I had gone out of town to visit my folks and it slipped my mind to call her beforehand. Guess you can imagine how that resolved itself.” 

Though you laugh it off, Aizawa can’t help but feel like you’re not quite being honest about your night. But then again, it isn’t any of your business. He isn’t your dad or your boyfriend. “So what did you do this weekend?” you ask, smiling down at Eri. 

“We got a kitty!” Eri blurts out, unable to keep the secret in. Aizawa gives her a fixed stare. “Eri!” he hisses to which Eri immediately covers her mouth, horrified. 

You look confused more than anything. “Nezu lets pets into the dorms now? He sounded pretty serious about that rule when we went over everything when I moved into the faculty dorms.” 

Aizawa huffs, pinching his sinuses. Eri’s filter erasure is usually endearing, but now, all he wants to do is slap a hand on her mouth. “He doesn’t,” he sighs. “I had adopted a cat for Eri this weekend, but the damn thing ran off as soon as I got her. Guess she just liked the outdoors more.” 

“We’re gonna make posters and search for her later,” Eri informs you to which you nod understandably.  

You glance at Aizawa, a hint of playfulness in your gaze. “Well, your secret is safe with me,” you say with a playful wink that tugs at Aizawa’s heartstrings. “And I know your kitty will come back to you. They’re never that far away.” 

Eri smiles at your advice, looking hopeful. Aizawa has never wanted to kiss someone more until you sat down and opened your mouth.

Suddenly, Eri gasps, her eyes animatedly wide. “Daddy, you didn't tell Y/N who your favorite Sailor Scout is!” she announces, very, very loudly. Aizawa has never wanted to choke a kid out more than his own daughter as you throw your head back and laugh. 

The rest of the lunch lasts for fifteen minutes until it’s time to head back to work. As you and Aizawa walk alongside each other up the trail to campus, Eri is busy picking as many flowers as she can: daises; daffodils; lilacs. Supposedly, she’s going to put them all around Aizawa’s dorm to “brighten up the room”. You thought it was adorable. 

Aizawa ticks his eyes over at you briefly, his heart thundering in his chest. 'Say something, idiot!'

“Thanks for joinin’ us today,” he says, grabbing your attention. He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Sorry Eri put you on the spot like that. She gets real excited sometimes.” 

“Don’t sweat it,” you giggle, waving a passive hand. “She’s the cutest little thing. If anything, I should be thanking you for letting me hang with you guys. It was fun.” The cherry blossoms are beginning to bloom and he notices one petal dusting your shoulder. 

“Can I walk you back to your dorm?” he asks, surprising you and himself with the sudden suggestion.

You don’t look put off by it though, but your ears still nervously twitch. “U-uh sure, if it’s not any trouble for you. I could definitely use the company.” 

Aizawa internally smiles as the two of you begin to walk along the trail leading to the faculty dorms with Eri in tow. You two begin to fall in stride, walking at the same pace. It feels easy to do, Aizawa finds, and he likes doing it. Even the silence between you isn’t tense or awkward but peaceful and content. 

“I hope I didn’t overstep earlier,” you suddenly say, placing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "I really didn’t know you had a daughter and I didn’t wanna assume anything.” 

Aizawa shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. I keep Eri a secret for a reason: she’s a very bright little girl with a very powerful quirk. A lot of people are lookin’ to have that to themselves, so Nezu, the rest of the UA staff, and I basically protect her while she’s here. She stays in the dorms so Nezu can keep an eye on her and so I can ensure that she’s safe.” 

You nod understandably at the new information. “Well, she certainly made a good choice choosing you as her guardian,” you softly pronounce. “I see the way you interact with your students. They really like you, Aizawa.” 

Aizawa flushes at the genuine nature behind your words. “They can be good kids,” he admits, thinking about his students. “When they’re not stressin’ me the fuck out.” 

“Aren’t all kids stressful in some way?” you lightly laugh. Your smile is just as dazzling and illuminating as the spring sun shining above.

“I’m sure you know all about that as a counselor,” he says, hoping you’ll take the hint and tell him all about it. He wants to know everything about you…if you’ll let him. 

You groan, rolling your eyes. “You don't even know the half of it. Sometimes, them kids come into my office and it’s like pullin’ teeth tryna talk to them.” 

Aizawa nods, knowing a few students in mind that he can put into that category. “But if I can help at least one kid with their problems as they go through the craziness of puberty and becoming a hero, who am I to complain? I love what I do for these kids.” 

The genuine and true twinkle in your eyes and the soft passion in your voice make Aizawa realize how seriously you take your job. It isn’t just a good paycheck or benefits for you–it’s much more, and it all starts with the kids.

“I can tell you do,” he softly utters, adoring you more and more with each second he spends with you out here. 

You suddenly stop and stare at him, wearing an expression Aizawa can’t quite place. However, your pupils are dilated and your tail swishes slowly between your thighs, relaxed and…happy? 

Aizawa needs to get better with reading cats if he’s going to be able to read you better. 

Suddenly, you snap back into yourself and clear your throat. “U-Um, this is me,” you stutter, nodding up at the dorm windows. “I’m pretty close to Nemuri’s dorm.” 

Disappointment blooms in Aizawa, but he shoves it away, feeling stupid. All he did was walk you back to your dorm. Of course, it was bound to end! But damn, does he want it to last a little longer, just to stand here and look at you under the sun rays and cherry blossoms.

You give him a smile that sends the butterflies into a frenzy. “Thanks for walkin’ me, Aizawa.” 

“Call me Shouta,” he replies, surprising even himself with his boldness. “And you’re welcome.”

But you don’t turn to walk away immediately. He doesn’t know why, but he takes advantage of it. “You’ve got somethin’ in your hair.” His eyes fix on the pink cherry blossom petal caught in your hair by your ear. 

You go to try and blindly find it, but he stops you by quickly swooping in and brushing one of your pointed ears to pluck the petal out. As he does, his thumb lightly brushes your ear, causing it to twitch slightly. He nearly melts at the feeling of your soft fur on his skin and he itches to touch the rest of you.

He isn’t sure what he would’ve done if Eri hadn’t suddenly yelled at the top of her lungs, consequently ruining the moment. 

“Daddy!” She yells from across campus, making you both jump back away from what could have transpired between you. “We have to go or you’ll be late for your next class! Uncle Mic is waiting for us!” 

You look at him with wide eyes and a very straight tail. 'Yep. Definitely happy.' 

“Duty calls, I guess,” you sheepishly giggle. “I’ll see you later, Shouta.”

You begin to walk to the dorms and he lets you, no matter how hard he is from you saying his first name. He watches you until you finally disappear into the building, taking the scent of your perfume with you. 

As he walks back to meet with his daughter and go to work, he’s all smiles.

[ijwrff]

Hey, I was wondering if I could request a Yandere Antisepticeye x (Possibly masc) reader where the reader is Jackies sidekick, kind of, and Anti ends up kidnapping the reader to brainwash them into loving him

We love Yandere Anti in this household. It was fun writing this! I always love getting to write yandere stories on any of my blogs XD I may have beefed up Anti's powers and capabilities but whateeeeeva. It's fanfiction for a reason.

Tw; swearing, violence, blood. Nothing crazy, just yandere-typical stuff.

Taglist: @serenitydusk @thattiredanimator1t0mblr @viciouslyyearning @jacksepticeye-simp

Word Count: 1,797

Being Jackie’s “sidekick” was more fun than you thought it’d be. Running around and helping people with the little things here and there, mostly. A stolen purse, maybe even just calming down a verbal argument. People worried about the business, and anything like that was typical for your usual day with Jackie. Even if you weren’t officially a sidekick, it didn’t matter too much to you. You were his friend, and are able to keep him company while he’s sitting around, wondering what to do next. 

When you met his brother, Anti, they couldn’t have been more different. Anti didn’t really want anything to do with you, and his attitude pissed you off. Especially when it was directed at Jackie. But time went by, and his mood never wavered, always coming off mean, mischievous and completely uncaring about those around him. You had raised your voice a good few times, and threatened him when Jackie wasn’t there if he was being a serious problem. 

It only made Anti laugh, but it was far from a nice laugh. It was malicious, borderline psychotic. You hated that damn laugh…the “I’m better than you”, the “Are you stupid?” the “You’re wrong,” one. That one he was doing right now. He did it a lot, but Jackie wasn’t here yet so you weren’t afraid to call him out on it. 

“Seriously, what kind of grown adult laughs like a disney villain?” You raised an eyebrow and tried to keep excessive profanities out of your mouth. He already said them enough, no need for you to curse him out. Not when you didn’t know when Jackie was getting here. “Don’t you have better things to do then sit here and bother me?” You sipped your drink, and looked around the cafe Jackie told you to meet him at. 

“Better things to do? No, not really. Why, you got something going on?” His smirk never left his face. What you wouldn’t give to wipe that look off it…but you were helping a hero. It didn’t exactly pay much, but you doubted Jackie would want to work with you if you mangled his brother’s face. As much as you would like to right now. 

“I’m waiting for Jackie.” You took another sip, then looked at your watch. He didn’t specify what time you’d be meeting, just soon. Usually he specified, but since he didn’t you figured better head here asap in case it was something urgent. “Where the fuck is he…?” You wouldn’t rush him, but you didn’t want to spend any more alone time with this annoying prick for any longer. 

Speaking of which…there weren’t many people here. It was just barely getting dark, so maybe there was something else going on in town that you didn’t know about. You laughed quietly and swirled the remains of your drink at the thought of Jackie inviting you here just to show up in a parade. It wouldn’t be the first time…and probably not the last, either. That’s probably where he was, or caught up helping someone. You just hoped he wasn’t in trouble. 

When you looked up to see Anti, he was already looking at you. “Creep…” Your brow twitched in irritation, and his smug look only got worse. “What? The hell are you staring at?” He didn’t even say anything, but it was maddening. “Whatever, I’ll text Jackie I’m meeting him somewhere else. Piss off already.” 

“Go right ahead.” He said as you got up and grabbed your jacket to leave. He didn’t make any attempt to stop you, which was a little suspicious, but you shrugged it off. Though you didn’t get very far, when you heard Jackie’s phone ringing from behind you. He was already here?

You spun and stopped dead in your tracks. “The hell are you doing with his phone?” Approaching him quickly now, something felt off about the air. That smug look seemed…almost inhuman at this point. You looked around, and noticed not a single person there. Not even the noises of birds, crickets…anything. Something in you yelled “run” but you had to know. “Why do you have his phone?” It was weary, and only caused a loud and sinister laughter to come from your only company right now. 

“Might have stolen it. Might have beat him up. Might have done…worse.” He dangled the phone before dropping it to the concrete and smashing it with his foot. “Now are you coming with me or not?” He held out a hand, seemingly wanting you to take it, but also making clear he didn’t expect you to. “Better hurry up. He’s coming.” He pointed behind you, and when you did he cackled. 

Turning, you were met with the sight of Jackie. But not regular Jackie, he was crying and bleeding profusely. You went to run up to him, but Anti’s arm stopped you. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Anti’s voice didn’t even sound like it had all the other times you’d seen him. Almost glitching out. Was this a dream? Or like a really messed up nightmare…after what you saw next, nightmare definitely seemed more fitting. 

Jackie crawled towards you, until his body started to grow and shift. What he became was something twice your height, and vicious laughter emanated from him. It still somewhat sounded like Jackie, but the creature’s mouth wasn’t even open. The sound was all around you, and you were so focused on his body shifting, that you didn’t notice the world around you dissolving until there was nothing remaining. You, this creature resembling Jackie, and Anti who still held your arm in a vice grip. 

“Time to choose~!” Anti practically sang as the creature crawled closer and closer to you. “Stick with him, and lose your life to someone you loved, or…” He spun you around, and even he looked warped, with glitches forming all around him. “Stick with me, and stay alive. I can love you better than he ever could.” He pulled you towards him by the back of your neck. 

All around you, voices and images of people chanting started at a whisper and got louder as they progressed. “CHOOSE! CHOOSE! CHOOSE!” They screamed. It only made the decision harder, and if you had stopped and thinked about it at the moment you might have chosen differently. You tried to look at Jackie, or what he became, and had to close your eyes. It was too difficult to look at. 

“Tick-tock, tick-tock.” Anti waved a finger in front of him to get your attention. “As if anyone could even comprehend protecting you to the capacities I can. Make the right choice, I know you will.” His eyes left yours to stare behind you. He grinned, and tilted his head to look at you better as the creature reached you. 

It grabbed your leg, causing you to scream and try and kick it away. But it was no use, the thing was huge and its one hand could easily grab the entirety of your waist. If it put any more pressure on where it grabbed, the bones would break. The voices only grew and grew, until you could swear your ears began to bleed. It was the least of your concerns, and all you could do before it broke you, was scream:

“YOU! ANTI!” You weren’t sure if it was admitting defeat, or a plea for help. Either way, Anti effortlessly sliced the creature's arm off, and it disappeared altogether. You scrambled back, and all but fell into Anti’s chest as he wrapped his arms around you. Your heart was thumping against your chest and you closed your eyes, not wanting to believe any of it was happening. 

When you opened them you were back in the cafe. Anti was sitting across from you and looking confident as ever. His hands were folded under his head as he leaned forward to be closer to you. Everything in you said it was real, but there was no proof. It was as if the whole thing never happened. You looked around, frantically, but there were so many others in the area. There was no way it was real…right? 

As soon as you thought about it, they were gone once more. Your eyes widened and you were standing up from a chair that was no longer there. Knowing that the creature could come back, you rushed to Anti’s side. If he protected you before, he surely would this time, right? “Where are we?” Was all you could get out. 

“Just somewhere. And nowhere.” He shrugged, and said “You’re right. I will protect you.” He grinned and you backed away from him. Could he read your thoughts? That was impossible though…this whole thing was completely impossible. You wanted to wake up, and right now. 

He sighed, and turned to face you fully. He looked even more warped than before. A gaping wound on his neck, eyes glowing green, and a smile full of teeth that could tear you to pieces with no effort at all. “It’s alright…I wouldn’t hurt you. But those people? Out there? They would.” He pointed and an image like a projector screen played of people walking around in the city. Fights, weapons, anything. The stuff you wouldn’t even let Jackie break up.

“But you chose me over him. You know what that means?” He walked closer and you felt like backing away, but something behind you was preventing it. His voice, his hair, his fangs, his eyes. You didn’t want to see any of it. Not even that tattered tank top he always wore. “It means…” When he reached you, he wrapped one hand around your throat. You felt the sharp points of his nails, and sucked in air. 

“You’re mine, now. I’ll keep you here as long as I have to, so you can see it too. That you love me, that you never loved him, any of it. Before you know it, you won’t even remember anything other than me. I’ll be sure of that.” He leaned in and his breath hovered over your mouth, “No matter what I have to do. It doesn’t matter, because you’ll be here. With me, for me, and only me. Your life before now will mean nothing.” 

Whatever he was…you were terrified. He could break you, and you wouldn’t put it past him to do it either. All you knew now was how much you wished you never went to the cafe that day. He tricked you. Betrayed you, and Jackie might never know. Put on display for someone you weren’t even sure was human. Until the day you could be free…you were stuck here. Freedom will come in one way or another…

Even if you have to die to reach it.