#I just had to get it out because it wouldn't leave my head | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shyentsmissingink · 1 day ago

Text

.TOUGH LOVE (part 1?)

By rena | Shyent

-Big brother Scara <3

-Non-con

-incest

-spanking

-degradation

-a tiny bit of fluff sprinkled in

Note: Don't like, don't read.

Scaramouche shoves you against your desk and without allowing you a moment to fight back, forces apart your thighs and presses his crotch against yours. You groan and attempt to kick him off of you, However, he thrusts his hip hard against yours, eliciting a shriek from you.

“What kind of punishment will it be this time, huh–?”

You barely had the chance to finish your sentence when he flips your skirt over your ass, kneading his fingers into the supple flesh.

“Wait, what are you-”

You didn't register your brother's hand pulling back, but what you did immediately recognise was the searing sting on your rear and the sound of his palm smacking against your ass cheek. You yell, fear and contempt present in your glare to which Scaramouche returned with a scornful one of his own, his lips curled into an ugly scowl.

You felt so bare, and you didn't realise how cold the temperature within your room was until he bent you over and flipped over your skirt. Or perhaps, it was the self-consciousness that overcame you at the fact that you could feel the zipper of your brother's shorts pressed up against your underwear. Regardless, it was cold and embarrassing.

It wasn't the exposure. You never minded being naked around your brother regardless of how broken your relationship was with him even after puberty because, at the very least, you were comfortable with being in your own body around him.

However, the sensation of him pressed up against you like this?

You open your mouth to reprimand him, but that's when Scaramouche grabbed you by the roots of your hair and pulled back before slamming your head against the desk, leaving you disoriented. In all honesty, it wasn't even the force of the slam but rather your mind trying to grapple with what he was doing.

It wasn't the slamming of your head that was out of the ordinary for you, no. You'd already come to accept Scaramouche's more violent tendencies as your new normal in the years following him having to take the initiative to take care of you and the growing intensity of your altercations…at least, you think you did.

Regardless, aside from the hitting, this is just…not normal, right? It wasn't normal, no, the way he threw you against the table and bent you over. It wasn't normal, you don't think, the way he situated his hips between your thighs. It wasn't normal, you know, the way he wasn't yelling at you yet. It was gross, wrong, not right. Not right.

Did he…what is my brother going to do to me?

“You think that you can get away with disrespecting me?” Scaramouche growls, pulling your head back up, rolling your neck harshly in his grip.

Scaramouche sounded incredulous as if what you told him was so ludicrous. As if YOU were in the wrong for reacting to his provocations, his jealousy, his possessiveness, his intrusiveness. He continues, leaning in to mutter spitefully into your ear,

“You think that you can insult me, spit in the face of my goodwill and treat me like I'm stupid and useless while you're dressed like a fucking, ungrateful whore and…get away with it?”

He lets go of your hair in a swift motion—your head dropping on the table—before his fingers wrap around your neck. His grip was tight yet forgiving as you were allowed the mercy of being able to breathe through the pressure, however strained. Scaramouche’s tone was scathing, and you imagined his expression to be just as condescending.

“Well, I guess that's my fault, isn't it? I was too nice, wasn't I? I suppose it's your big brother's fault for letting you off the hook for so long, so easily, wasn't it?”

He slaps your rear again.

Scaramouche coos, squeezing the fat of your ass. “Well, I ought to apologise for that, yeah, baby sis? I'll take responsibility and teach you a lesson. You'd love that, wouldn't you? For your brother to punish you for being such a bad girl?”

He permits you to speak, loosening his grip on your neck. When he did, you gasped for air while trying to hold back a sob in an attempt to sound firm when you spoke, denying to yourself that he heard when your voice shook, "What the fuck are you doing, you fucking pervert?"

Perhaps the disgust expressed in your tone and on your face would make him falter. Yet…

He doesn't even dignify you with a sign of defensiveness; he had you just where he wanted you, the need to take offence was lost to him, and that scared you. “That's all you have to say for yourself? Don't want to mend your way out of this?”

“I have nothing to apologise for, you petulant, narcissistic baby.”

“If you say so…y'know, I almost felt bad for punishing you, but it seems to me that you're practically begging for it, aren't you?” He snickers, his eyes narrowing as he gazed down at his crotch pressed down against your pussy. Almost lovingly, he was caressing your cheek with his right hand, pinching you hard, causing you to whine before it left your body.“Well, if that's how you'll have it…but just so you know,”

Scaramouche grabs a thick, pink wooden ruler from your desk's surface and double taps your ass with it, causing you to twitch and stiffen, “From here on out, it's big brother to you, okay?”

“Sick pervert-” He taps harder.

“Okay, my whorish, adorable little sister?”

“...okay," all you had to do was to let him get his guard down, right?

He hums, “That'll work for now,” he taps your ass with the ruler with a bit more pressure, “move for me.”

You try to turn your head to look at him, but he presses down on your neck, effectively holding you in place.

“That's not what I want, puppy. I said move.”

“Move? You're in the way!”

“Move in a way I know you’re familiar with, aside from trying to escape your punishment. I'm sure you've done it with your little guy friends, haven't you? Sway those hips for me, pet—you have 4 seconds.”

Your mind went blank, but before you managed to process his command to at least express your utter disgust at what your brother was demanding of you,

“Four seconds…how many hits do you think you deserve?”

“None-”

He wacks you and you flinch, hard.

“Wrong, try again.”

“...four?”

“We'll add two more for the second offence, okay?”

"But I-"

"Ten."

"…What the fuck, Scara-"

"Like I said, you're practically begging for it, I don't have to remind you of how you should refer to me…stop trying to fight back."

Scaramouche brushes your right cheek with the ruler, once, twice. And without another moment to spare, he swats your ass, and you didn't think that it could get any worse than the ones prior, and yet…your body jerks forward against the desk and you wiggle against him.

"Stop it! Why-" he pulls his arm back and lays another one of the same, unforgiving speed and ache. A whine escapes you and your eyes prick with tears.

"Beg, apologise, whine or cry. Otherwise, I'll interpret your words as a plea for more."

And thus, began his assault. He hits you again and again and again without a moment to recuperate, to recover a bit, to get used to it. No, he wanted it to hurt. Your gasps and groans grew louder and louder each time as he swatted one after the other on your increasingly sensitive ass, and all it did was egg him on.

Left, right, left, right.

"Normally when you cry, I find it annoying, y'know?"

You tried to articulate a response of your own but you couldn't find yourself getting used to the buzzing excruciating throb on your bum, you felt as if each swat was throwing your mind off its balance. Scaramouche's laughter did not cease to piss you off, and fucking terrify you. You always banked on the pity and guilt to palliate his punishment, but this time, why did it seem like he was enjoying it? You weren't counting, but you were sure that this was way past ten.

"But like this…you're fucking adorable. You fight back against me so viciously and talk with such a potty mouth, I thought that my adorable little sister from years ago was lost to me…I didn't realise that all it took was to bend you over."

He sighs blissfully, your legs kicking behind you as you try to push back. He didn't reprimand you, he knew that it was only natural.

"Next time you act up, I'll set up a camera, okay?"

"Wha-eek!"

"Just like that, you sound so fucking cute. I love the way you're shrieking and crying, kicking and wiggling under me like that…it takes me back, thought 'punishments' were more innocent back then."

Your cries and snivelling was music to his ears. Scaramouche watched as your rear got redder, more sore, and bruised under his dominance, at some point, he focused more on the right side as he dug his nails into your left, twisting your ass-cheek for the sake of hearing your choke on your sobs. He'd been so focused on your vocal reactions, that it was only a few moments later did he notice the dampness in your underwear. His eyes widen and he ceases his swatting, his brain buzzing.

You sniffle and open your eyes, was it finally over? The thought was thrown out the window when he grinds more rhythmically, intentionally against your clothed pussy, the ruler caressing your ass with an occasional tap.

Before you knew it, he'd pull your panties aside to expose your throbbing pussy, running his fingers along your clit before hovering over your hole. You didn't think that your face could get any hotter and you've never felt so fucking mortified. This was your own brother touching your pussy. You tried to perish the mere thought of you being aroused by this whole ordeal, but the clenching of your walls around nothing and your wetness made it impossible to ignore. He wouldn't ignore it, you will not forget it.

“...you sick fuck.” He laughs, pressing his thumb against your hole that you knew was getting increasingly wetter by the moment. “I knew that I was fucked up in the head but who woulda thought that you would finish just from a little bit of spanking? You enjoyed it?”

“N-no I-”

“Shh, don't lie to me, feel this?” Scaramouche slips a digit into your hole and curls it, and he didn't think that he could get harder before you tightened around him.

“You're so fucking wet, did you feel how easy it was to slip it in?" he inserted a second finger followed by a third, pumping them into you. "It's like you're begging to be filled up, aren't you? You'd like that? Do you want your big brother's cock inside of that cute little hole of yours?”

“No…please—hic—Scara I-”

“I'd like you to shut up and think about what I told you; it's big brother.”

Scaramouche undoes his pants and pulls down his boxers before tapping his aching cock between your raw, sore cheeks.

“Feel that? Tell me, how does it feel?”

“...Heavy, you're so—hic—heavy and hard and—please don't do it, it's-” wrong.

“What, it's immoral? Don't feign innocence here, your pussy is weeping for my cock, isn't it? I'm not even holding you down anymore, now am I? And we both know you've never missed an opportunity to run away from something you didn't like…you want this," he mocks, rutting against you.

“But it'll hurt…”

“I don't want to hear excuses from a cute little slut like you…I wonder how many guys you allowed to use you like this. Do they know how much of a masochist you are?” He aligns the tip at your entrance. “Did they even know how much you enjoyed being played with and treated roughly like a sex toy?"

A moan rumbles in your chest as he pushes his head into you, making circles.

"Oh! Now would you look at that? Did you feel how easily I slipped into you? How does that feel, little sis? How does your brother's cock feel?"

You moan a muffled apology and he lets it slide, reaching his free hand to pinch your puffy clit. Your hips reflexively jerk back in response in a futile attempt to pull away from his touch, and in response he lets go of his dick, smacking your raw ass.

Don't move, he didn't say.

“Did those inexperienced fuckers even know how to pleasure you? Did you fake your orgasms? Or did you come through just fine when they buried their little dicks into you? Did it hurt, love? Did you like it?”

He groans shamelessly, slowly pushing in his dick, mercifully giving you time to adjust as he admired the way your legs quaked and stiffened as he filled you with his length with ease. In his mind, as his balls met your ass as his glans met your cervix, he thought that the two of you were a perfect fit.

You truly were made for him.

He slaps your raw cheek with his palm and whine, "I didn't hear an answer."

"Wh…what?"

Smack!

"Weren't paying attention, were you?"

“Please…”

Smack! Smack! Smack!

“Please please please,” he mocks. “Do you know how pathetic you sound? Can't you say anything more intelligent than that or is all you know how to do is beg and moan?”

“...B—hic—big brother…”

“Now that's a start, what is it?”

“...please get it over with.”

“Now that sounds better…but I'm sure that there's another way to phrase it, yeah?”

“P-please,” he was about to slap you before he heard you. “Fuck me big brother…please punish me.”

Oh, fuck.

“...now would you look at that," Scaramouche muses. "I didn't know that you can be so…fuck."

He grabs you by the hips and pulls out until only the tip remains and without warning, he slams into you.

“Archons, you're so. Fucking. Wet.” He accentuates each word with a hard thrust before trying to find his rhythm.

“You're loving this…you wanted your brother's cock to be buried into your pussy, right? You wanted me to use you and I know that you wanted me to punish you…that's why you're always provoking me, huh? Always talking to boys and walking home with a new one every week. You wanted to piss me off—haah."

“You were begging for this…I'm sorry, I was dense, wasn't I? I should have–oh, gods–punished you like this sooner. Right, little sis?”

All you could do was mewl and hic, standing on your toes as if you were offering yourself to him. As he rocked you back and forth against your desk, degrading you and fucking up your insides as your needy pussy drooled all over his cock and formed a small puddle on the floor.

He buries his fingers into your hair once more and pulls your head back. Your tears, sweat and saliva streamed down your face, a pool of it where your face lay. Not only were your cries and gasps more coherent, no longer compromised by your face being buried into arms, but you grew whinier, eyes half-lidded as your dribbling tongue lolled past your lips. You were a fucked up, pretty sight for sore eyes and he felt his cock twitch inside of you.

“Now, who does–mmph…oh fuck, haha—this pussy belong to, huh?"

Impatient, he smacks you another three, "Huh, huh, huh?"

You did not know whether or not it was intentional, but the line between pain and pleasure never felt so close and entwined.

“To my big brother! It’s yours!”, you babble.

“What a smart little girl.”

Eventually, Scaramouche abandons the pace he'd set. After all, wasn't this your punishment to begin with? If you came again, he'd get to make fun of you further. If you didn't, then that is for you to settle on your own, no?

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I- ah~ fuck please please please, it's so good I'm gonna cum I'm gonna–” your eyes roll back and your hips buckle against him, white-hot pleasure exploding behind your eyes as you came all over his dick.

And that sight was enough to send him over the edge, he pulls your head back to an unnatural and painful degree, and with one last spank and a final thrust, he buries himself into the hilt, shooting loads of hot cum into your pussy.

You both were a unit of sloppy messes, panting and sticky with sweat and shared essence, rutting against each other and he bent over, gently letting down your head as he rested his chest against your back, his head over your shoulder.

He pants and moans against your forehead as he plants a kiss on your temple, to which you breathily hum. Your eyes were closed, but you had yet to fall asleep, you intended to move to bed if he let you but at the moment, you were just trying to recuperate, your body still twitching and spasming.

He didn't remove himself from inside of you, perhaps it was the orgasm, but Scaramouche felt the need to express his affection for his little sister a bit more differently. He barely removed his lips from your forehead when he tilted his head, his breath tickling you.

"…You know I love you, right?"

You sniffle, your eyes fluttering open, "I do."

"And that I only did this because I care for you and I missed you, right?"

"Yes…"

You both fell silent, and you didn't know how to describe the absence of noise itself, comfortable? Static? His hand wanders down to your sensitive backside caressing it despite your flinching before sliding down to rub slow, gentle circles into your inner thigh.

"Sca…big brother?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

He snorts, "I love you too, little sis."

Author's note: Honestly, a teensy tiny weeny bit unsatisfied, but like, I needed to use the bathroom since 5 years ago right now but I sat here and did this for you😣💓

Hope it was okay, I greatly accept praise. If there are any errors, please point them out to me.

I mean it! Critique and advice is very much welcomed into my asks.

I'm also looking over and editing and screaming and dying rn

#tw inc*st #wanderer smut #wanderer x reader #wanderer #genshin impact #genshin smut #kunikuzushi #kabukimono #scara #wanderer genshin #genshin scara #scaramouche imagines #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smut #scara x reader #genshin wanderer #i love scaramouche

67 notes · View notes

unfriendlies · 2 days ago

Text

even though the two of them fought, garam still trusted himself in the man's hands. he was positive the other wouldn't do anything to intentionally hurt him, at least physically. "you wouldn't drop me," he replied confidently. when angel retorted on his towel dropping, garam getting to see that something he'd like, his body stiffened, his grip on angel's hand tightening for a moment, but he hadn't let it stop him from pulling the other to his room. "maybe i'd like that," he mumbled even though he knew he shouldn't have said something. garam watched as angel pulled the blankets back for him, his posture relaxing as his head tilted to the side. he knew angel was only being so nice right now because garam was drunk, he was sure there was at least an inkling inside of him that wanted to yell at him or something akin to, but the fact that he could be holding anything negative he felt back made garam feel warm inside. he pushed aside how he was feeling to take care of garam, how was he supposed to still be angry with angel when he took care of him so well. he crawled into the man's bed, only going as far as to tuck his legs under the blanket until angel had left to get dressed, himself. while angel was in the bathroom, garam ended up climbing out of the man's bed so he could take his jeans off. he would have taken his shirt off as well and just slept in his underwear but he was afraid of seeing angel's expression upon seeing the fading bruises on his abdomen. once the other man reappeared, garam pushed himself up onto his elbows, his eyes not leaving angel as he approached. garam sat up and turned so he could look down to angel, his brows pulling together as he let out a soft sigh. even though angel wanted to talk later on, when they were both sober, garam just couldn't stop himself from speaking anyways. he needed to apologize, he couldn't have angel going to bed thinking garam was mad or upset with him. the smaller man pouted a bit exaggeratedly, grumbling in distress as he shook his head. "i'm sorry i yelled at you... and for the things i said. i'm not mad at you, i really don't blame you for anything. you've always had the best of intentions and-and you always look out for me, you take care of me, and i know it's not just because you're into me but because you are a good person and you care about my wellbeing. you saw what i chose to ignore, i probably would have died by his hands if you hadn't made the sacrifice you had." he looked so pathetic, like he was on the verge of crying while he apologized. if he was going to be completely honest, fighting, not being on good terms with angel was tearing him up inside. that's why he drank as much as he did, so he wouldn't have to feel how horrible he did for yelling and saying things he shouldn't have said. "when i'm ready for another relationship, i want it to be you. and when you're ready," his expression had shifted when he paused, showing more of a devious smile now as he moved his hand to angel's stomach, letting his fingers take small steps upward, "i'm going to let you do whatever you want to me." garam spoke slowly as if he were trying to ensure his words were clear, letting his expression now reflect his lack of sobriety; his smile stretching ear to ear, his eyes narrowing and his nose scrunching up as he giggled softly. his intention was to fluster angel just as much as seeing the man's bare and damp body flustered him. it seemed, though, that his effort had the exact opposite effect as he found himself getting flustered at the mere idea of hooking up with angel. his grin disappeared in an instant, the red of his already flushed cheeks deepening. garam let himself fall back down to the bed, though he was quick to pull the blanket up over his head to hide himself from the embarrassment he caused himself, groaning quietly. he wasn't sure if he would come to regret his words when he sobered up, all he knew was that he was too embarrassed to show his face to angel right in that moment.

Was anger even a factor anymore? Angel couldn't decide. Before his best friend walked out the door he felt nothing but hurt and turmoil. Now, when he opened the door and saw Garam standing there looking so damn cute he could barely think straight. Having Axel try to attack him truly put into perspective what Garam was possibly going through behind closed doors. Angel was still dealing with what was said to him. But anger wasn't present. “I can take you to bed like this? Do you hear yourself sometimes” Angel let out a laugh as he followed Garam to his bedroom. “We had a pretty big fight. Did you really want me to carry you?” If the other wasn't drunk he might have given in to his urges. However, he had held on for many years. Priding himself on his self-control. He wasn't about to give up that streek so easily. As he followed the man to his room he kicked himself for not taking down all the random towels and blankets he had scattered around covering the mirrors. He mentally prayed Garam was too inebriated to focus on details. “Don't you want my towel to drop? Maybe see something else you like” Angel teased knowing that would stop the man's giggling. As they entered the room the taller man led him to the bed and pulled back the covers for his best friend. “Get in bed. I'm going to get dressed but I should dry off some.” Angel backed away toward his draws picking through them. He finally settled on his usual shorts and a t-shirt before disappearing into the bathroom. He took his time drying off trying to remember to carry Garam to his bed the other night. Wondering what he was thinking. Knowing he would never do something so bold sober. Chuckling to himself the man finally got dressed and came out of the bathroom. As he laid eyes on his best friend he was grateful the man came home. Before the other’s ex showed up he didn't think he would get sleep not knowing where Garam was. But he wouldn't dare text to ask. His eyes softened as he walked over to the bed and climbed in. For tonight he needed to let go of their argument and enjoy drunk Garam. He was always cute, but when he got drunk like this it was hard to be upset with him. “We can talk in the morning. I'll make breakfast, alright?”

#threads #thread: min garam #garam & angel #ang3lmoan

98 notes · View notes

nightplvmes · 2 days ago

Text

*.⊹˚ XAVIER | lights (christmas special)

── ◜xavier x fem!reader — mini one shot 1k words ◜Xavier prepares a Christmas surprise for her with the help of his evol. — author's note | christmas specials from the rest of the LI on my profile

She sighed, looking at her empty plate of food. She looked back out the window of her apartment, noticing that the weather hadn't improved. She didn't have many plans for Christmas but she was definitely hoping to do something other than stay locked up at home… that is until a snowstorm came.

She knew the weather wouldn't be the best but she certainly didn't expect to be completely locked in. Her plans with her friends had been ruined and she felt guilty for not stopping by to see her mom.

She looked back at the TV, there was a boring Christmas movie on that was better than nothing… Until her surroundings grew dark. The power had gone out. The damn power had gone out on Christmas Eve. It was the last thing it was missing from her horrible night.

She hadn't been able to leave the house because of the storm. She hadn't been able to go see her mother and she had not been able to attend the small meeting that her friends had organized either.

It took her a couple of minutes to get out of her trance, it felt like a really bad night and there was nothing that could cheer her up anymore. She decided that the best thing to do was to spend some time on the balcony, maybe the fresh air would help her clear her head. That was when she realized that not all of the city had ended up in darkness, there were some places and buildings that still seemed to have power and a few others that didn't… unfortunately for her, her building had been one of the ones affected.

The sound of the door had taken her out of her bubble and she rubbed her eyes before getting up from the ground and walking to the front door. She thought maybe it was the building manager talking about the problem but it was the opposite…

Xavier let out a yawn and rubbed one of his eyes before looking at her with one of those small smiles he sometimes had on his face. She had learned to read his micro expressions, she felt like no one knew him like she did and it was probably true.

"Hey… what are you doing here?" She asked confused, she wasn't trying to kick him out of her house or anything but it was Christmas Eve, she thought maybe he was with… someone.

"The power went out."

She had to press her lips together to keep from laughing, of course she had noticed that and she knew Xavier wasn't trying to be sarcastic but there was so much seriousness on his face that she couldn't help but want to laugh.

"I know… Do you want to come in?" She stepped aside to let Xavier into her apartment.

He nodded and walked inside, noticing that the only light came from the open balcony doors.

She decided not to ask. Maybe Xavier had simply decided to spend Christmas at home. It didn't surprise her after he thought they were just going to get together to read on his birthday. His birthday was important, right?

"Come… the view is pretty from here." She took his hand and practically dragged him to the balcony.

When she sat back down on the floor, he didn't hesitate to imitate her, taking a seat next to her. Her eyes were fixed on the city, waiting for the power to magically come back at any moment. Meanwhile, Xavier's eyes were completely on her, as if the pretty view she was talking about was about her.

She sighed, feeling somewhat sad. She certainly didn't expect to spend Christmas like that. Although it made her feel a little more comforted to have Xavier there.

"Why are you home tonight?" She looked at him when she heard Xavier's question. She had told him two days ago that she had a meeting with her friends because she had tried to convince him to go with her.

"Didn't you see the news?" Xavier shook his head. "The storm closed the streets. I tried to leave but a policeman stopped me and forced me to go back the way I went." She sighed again remembering the disappointment she had felt when she had been told those words.

Xavier looked away. He felt sad to see her so sad, maybe his presence wasn't that much but he wanted to do something to cheer her up. She kept her gaze fixed on her hands, still feeling down. She played with her fingers and the small threads that came out of the edge of her pajamas. Until something caught her attention.

An orb of light was near her cheek. She raised her face to find the small orb floating near her face. With her brow furrowed she looked at Xavier without understanding, more small orbs came out of his hand and floated around her, a small smile formed on her face.

"What are you doing?" She smiled excitedly when the orbs around her began to move around her, until they gathered in front of her.

"We need light," he lied. He actually wanted to put a smile on her face and it had clearly worked. There was now a huge smile on her face as she tried to touch the small orbs of light but they just moved away from her touch.

The small orbs gathered in front of her again, forming the silhouette of a Christmas tree and then they dispersed again. The small orbs scattered in front of her again, forming small spheres this time. It was like her own little personal light show.

"Open your hands." She complied and spread her hands in front of her chest.

The orbs of light this time gathered over her hands without touching her completely. Forming small stars, it was like holding the stars in her hands in a perhaps too literal way.

The orbs scattered until they became small particles that disappeared from her sight, leaving her almost in complete darkness again. She now had a huge smile on her face and it had definitely been the highlight of her night.

"Thank you." She smiled, shifting her gaze back into her apartment. Her eyes searched for one of the clocks in her house to confirm what she had in mind: it was already past midnight. "Merry Christmas, Xavier."

"Merry Christmas," he murmured. He slid his hand out to take hers.

46 notes · View notes

ineedpaigebuckets · 6 hours ago

Text

unspoken truths

pt. 2

warnings: angst

an: it's awful i know. someone please help like literally how the fuck do you write. i have such good ideas but they just can not be executed right. anyways i prob actually won't write any more because i literally just cant stand to read this shit.

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

paige pov

i knew azzi and i wouldn't get along just because of her boyfriend alone, but then at practice one day it kinda hit. out on court chemistry was unmatched, she'd always find me, id always find her, when we played together we played fucking amazing. i started to become more and more drawn in by her, i started to realize she didn't really have a lotta friends since moving. i figured, maybe i'd give her a chance.

the second her beautiful ass walks into the party hand in hand with jake my plan almost flies out the window. my face tightens but i try not to think of it. i head to the kitchen to get some food and see one of our teammates, kk.

"hey k!" i grin as i walk up to her. slumping against the counter. the second i speak i see azzi walk in, she looks sad, it makes my heart squeeze for her.

"az!" i try to give her a polite smile as i hold my hand out for her to dab me up but she just kinda loosely holds on to it for a second, something's wrong and i can tell. my gaze darts between kk and azzi, i know i shouldn't, but i need to make sure azzi is okay.

"hey, did something h-" before i can even finish my sentance my fuckass girlfriend is on my arm and azzis hopeful expression drops. her big sweet eyes fall into annoyance quickly as she walks out to f the kitchen back over to jake.

emma, my girlfriend has done nothing but make me mad the last month or two and she knew it. i drag her right past azzi and her boyfriend out to the porch and look at her, my eyes drifting to azzi on the other side of the door. "emma, babe i'm sorry we can't keep doing this." i give her a knowing look and she slumps down, she knew it, we didn't love eachother we just had some sort of unspoken agreement i guess.

"i know." i hear her say kinda softly but that fire in her eyes is still there. "don't come running back to me when it doesn't workout with that bitch." she seethe and it takes me back, her hands meet my shoulders pushing me back a little while she stomps inside, right past azzi.

i sigh and walk back in kinda lingering in azzis space just a little.

"fuckin dyke broke up again" i hesr jake turn to azzi and joke, i'm about to fucking punch this sucker but azzi gets to him first.

azzi pov

"jake what the fuck, this is what i keep fucking talking about." i seethe my voice loud and hard. "don't fucking talk about my teammate like that." without another word i walk upstairs curling up in one of the empty beds just sitting on my phone.

the door cracks open and there she is, paige bueckers and all her beauty. but then she starts to talk and i realize i'm

mistaken, again.

"azzi, what the fuck was that. you just embarrassed the shit outta me i can take care of myself i don't need no transfer butting in and fighting off people like a child. i can protect myself." the second she starts to yell i feel tears fill my eyes, id had such an awful day already i couldn't deal with her shit right now. i try not to make it noticeable but her eyes soften in a way i've never seen before.

"i'm so sorry." she breathlessly whispers as i stand up walking towards her, i lean past her to open the door signaling her to leave but she kicks the door shut and pulls me into her chest, her hand in my hair and her other on my waist. i waste no time comfortably holding my arms around her torso. no words said just calm. "break up with him." paige whispers and im taken aback my head pulled out of her neck as i look up to her with big eyes, her eyes sweet and sincere, and only because it comes out of her mouth i think it over.

"i- i will." i say, both of her hands not rest on my waist, somewhere they really shouldn't be. "but- we- let's go downstairs." i stutter out clearly a little flustered.

she nods which makes me let out a sigh of relief but her head tilts down her hand meets my chin as she kisses my cheek softly. as she pulls away i see the soft gentle hope in her eyes and, why not return the favor. i bring my lips up to her cheek but paige's head must have turned, her lips brush mine and i jerk back.

"shit- i'm sorry." i muster out quickly my fingers tracing over my lips, i'm disbelief but within seconds her lips are on mine.

i feel her soft wet lips against mine making a soft breathless moan leave my lips. they seem to absentmindedly part as paige's tongue slips into my mouth. her hands pull my waist as close to her as they can as mine pull her face into mine. within seconds there's a fire through my body, her kiss felt like no one else. i wasn't scared of her going too far, i wasn't uncomfortable with the way she was holding me, i felt safe and calm. and above all else i was fucking drenched through my leggings. "fuck." i mumble against her lips as her hand finds the back of my head gently pushing me against the wall but making sure my head doesn't hit it hard at all. the soft gesture so kind and sweet. my thoughts are interrupted when her knee pushes between my legs and i let out a gasp under her, leaning my head against the wall. "m not gay." i whisper as a kinda last resort to not let myself fall into her trap but her knee leaves my core, but she's wearing shorts there's a small glisten on the top of it and i curse myself.

"way to ruin the fucking moment." she grits out.

my hand flies out to her shirt and i yank her lips back to mine. i don't care how "straight" i think i am i want her fucking tongue in my mouth, and of course she obliges. but only seconds later there's loud voices outside bringing us both back to our senses. we silently pull away and look at eachother and i scramble out the door with her on my heels. the second we get downstairs some other bitch is in my boyfriends lap and i walk over to him. im gonna take paige's request.

"you wanna date this homophobic asshole go for it. cuz he's not with me anymore." i yell at the girl, and i go to say another thing but before i can he stands up. my eyes widen and im nervous but paige comes up behind me pushing him, hard, back onto the couch his head hits the wall and paige let's put a grunt. my eyes widen and fill with terror i grab paige's shirt and tug her outside.

"i can take care of my fucking self." repeating her words from earlier. i let her shirt go with a scoff and walk down the block back to my house leaving her there. and bam we're back to square one.

#azzi fudd #paige bueckers #pazzi #uconn wbb #wbb #ineedpaigebuckets #paige buckets #paige x reader #texts with paige #paige x best friend #paige bueckers headcanons #paige headcanons #paige x azzi #azzi35 #azzi x reader

31 notes · View notes

elizaditton · 3 days ago

Text

Too Small To Be Afraid (Chapter 20)

Cover / Master Post / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (Coming Soon!)

- - - - -

I snatch my bookbag as I hurry out of my bedroom and down the hall. If I want to avoid having this conversation, I've got to make my rush look convincing!

"Hey, sweetheart," Dad says when he sees me enter the living room. "What's the big hurry? You've got plenty of time before school starts!"

"Y-yeah, I know," I say, trying the handle to the front door of our apartment. It's locked. "I just wanted to get there early to catch up some more with Brittney."

Dad chuckles. "Well, if you leave this early, you're still going to be waiting for the school to open when you get there!"

"Not a problem! I'm fine with that," I say as I turn the lock on the door and open it.

"Kaylin, come now. It's far too early to be leaving for school. You haven't even had— Aah!" he flinches when two golden brown slices of bread arise from the toaster with a sudden pop.

I can't help but smile. Dad's generally pretty fearless, often to the point of being reckless. Seeing him get scared by some toast is so out of character that I can't help but laugh.

Dad clears his throat and pushes up his glasses. "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," he says, eyeing the toast, "you haven't even had any breakfast. Come on, I'll make you some toast."

I look between Dad and the door. If I stay, he's sure to want to pick up where we left off last night. Talking about school is the last thing I want to do! Yet the more I stand here, the more the emptiness in my gut begs me to eat something. Heaving a sigh, I set down my bookbag and close the door.

"So," Dad begins in a tone that can only begin to hint at all the questions he must have for me. "How are you feeling about school?"

"It's... okay," I say as I sit myself down at the kitchen table, trying to bury any complex feelings I have about the whole 'being completely blindsided by your own dad and sent to a school full of the very people you live in fear of' thing.

"Just okay?" he asks, looking back at me as he butters the toast. "You seemed pretty eager to head out the door just a second ago."

"Yeah, well... it's complicated." I say, turning my eyes to the table. "There's things I like, and... things I don't."

Dad hums in response, smothering an already buttery slice of toast with what looks to be enough raspberry jam for two separate slices. "Well, what sorts of things do you like about school?"

I move my jaw from side to side, growing more frustrated the harder I try to think of something about Pacific that I actually like that won't result in Dad bombarding me with more and more questions. I like talking with Brittney, and in spite of my fear I actually somewhat like being Derrick's deskmate— although I'd rather not be surrounded by other pertheans at school. Whenever a perthean student speaks up or even coughs in class, it sends shivers down my spine! And I really like being friends with Derrick, but I can't help but wish he was human. If he were human, I wouldn't be so terrified of him. I hate that I'm still scared of him, because I really do value the friendship we've been developing over the past few weeks.

"How about your friends?" Dad asks, setting a plate of toast in front of me. "Didn't you say you'd been hanging out with your deskmate?"

A knot forms in my core. This is exactly what I wanted to avoid.

"Y-yeah," I say, hoping he'll drop the topic if I respond.

Dad pulls up a chair across from me. "Why don't you tell me about your deskmate? Darren, right?"

"D-Derrick," I correct him.

"Right. Why don't you tell me about him? What's he like?" Dad asks, propping his head onto his hands like a teenage girl at a slumber party waiting to hear the latest gossip.

I try to keep a straight face, but a chuckle escapes me. Dad never ceases to surprise me!

"U-um, well, he's... nice," I start. "We both like Aven Gem games like Flower Town, and we both have FlexPads."

Dad nods, encouraging me to continue.

"He likes to study languages, and he's really good at Koronian," I say. "I think he wants to teach English in North Eris one day."

"That's nice. He sounds like a good kid," Dad says. "So what do the two of you usually do together?"

My heart sinks, and blood drains from my face. How am I supposed to answer that? Should I tell him Derrick is helping me with my fear? No, that'll be a huge win for him for sure!

I don't know why, but when I think about Dad hearing positive things about my experience at Pacific, I can't help but imagine him giving himself a huge pat on the back. I can't let him win this one, not when he lied to me about the move and completely blindsided me by enrolling me in this school. Even if I got lucky with Derrick, sending me to Pacific was still a terrible idea, and I'm not about to let Dad take the credit for what Derrick and I have been accomplishing.

"Well, we've studied together. We also just... um... talk," I say.

"Hm. And what sorts of things do you talk about?" Dad asks.

"Uh... j-just about anything! School, video games, movies..."

"And does he know about your fear?"

Why is he cornering me like this? Why is he so desperate to pry into this area of my life?

"Does it matter?" I retort, turning my attention to the toast in front of me and taking a bite. There's too much jam, but it tastes good mixed with the butter, so I don't mind.

Dad leans back in his chair. "Whether or not you tell him about your fear is up to you, but I think it would benefit the two of you to be on the same page."

I remain silent, taking another bite of toast.

"Do you plan on telling him?" Dad asks.

My insides twist as I look down, searching for the right thing to say. I come up empty.

Dad leans forward. "Does he already know?"

"Dad, I... I don't want to talk about this anymore." I manage, setting down my toast and clenching my jaw. Why is he doing this?

Dad sighs. "I get it, I do. Being at this school isn't easy for you. But I want you to know that you can talk to me about it, okay?"

"But you don't get it, Dad!" I hiss, standing up and planting my hands on the table. "You've never had a fear like mine! That's why you thought you could just send me to a school like Pacific and make me get over it!"

"That's not true," Dad says, crossing his arms.

"You want a quick fix for something that's plagued me all my life, but I can't get over my fear if I'm drowning in it," I utter, my voice cracking. "If you really cared, you'd leave me alone instead of throwing me to the wolves!"

Eyes glazing over, I turn and march toward the front door, leaving Dad behind at the kitchen table.

"Kaylin," Dad says, his tone growing more serious. "I don't want a quick fix for you or to throw you to the wolves. It's because I care about you that I want you to grow!"

"Forcing me to be around pertheans isn't going to undo what I saw!" I yell, slamming the door behind me as I exit the apartment.

My vision blurs as I head down the hall, and I blink away the tears that try to form. Dad's ignorance about my fear drives me up the wall! He knows what I saw and what I had to go through because of it, and he still thinks I can just get over it like an old habit!

The elevator door opens when I press the call button, and I sigh as I step inside. What am I going to do?

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

I let out a yawn as I wander down Seren Avenue, my eyelids still drooping from a lack of sleep. Why did I have to get up so early?

I gaze at the skylights above me, hoping the undercity's artificial lighting will be enough to help keep me awake. The screens display flowering trees reaching up towards a cloudy sky. Back in Maedri, the skylights displayed cherry blossoms during the springtime. Although the trees on these skylights do have some flowers, they're mostly filled with green leaves that pale in comparison to the beautiful shades of pink I'm used to seeing at the start of each year. I miss those old skylights. I miss Maedri.

I amble through the undercity, eyes fixed on the nature scene above. That's when something bumps into me from behind.

"Ah—! I'm sorry!" the boy behind me utters. His black hair and wide green eyes are all too familiar, and I immediately recognize the green blazer he's wearing as being from Pacific.

"Oh," he says, his eyes suddenly narrowing as his voice deepens. "It's just you."

"Y-yeah. Sam, right?" I ask.

He nods.

"This is the second time you've bumped into me. Don't you usually wear glasses?" I ask. "You'd be able to see where you're going with them on."

Sam's face reddens as he turns his gaze to the floor. "I... I look cooler without them."

"You should at least wear contacts so you can—" I start, only to be cut off by Sam weaving around me and running off. "Hey!"

I run after him, and am nearly out of breath by the time I catch up with him.

"Can I help you?" he asks flatly.

"Can I ask you something?"

He sighs, not even stopping or turning to face me. "I guess."

"Why are you always speeding off? Did I do something wrong?" I ask.

"That's two questions," he states, annoyed.

"Sorry."

"Look," he says, finally turning his head back to address me. "I'm not great with people, okay? I prefer to be alone."

"Is that why you're at Pacific?" I ask, my curiosity growing.

"Yes. I mean, no. I mean—" he stumbles over his words before letting out another sigh. "I have my own reasons for going."

I suppose Pacific looks good on university applications, being a private school and all.

"Is that why you're at Pacific?" he turns the question back to me.

"I-I... well, sort of. My dad made me go."

"Ugh. My parents made me go, too."

"I thought you had your own reasons for going," I say, raising an eyebrow.

"I—! I do! It's just... since we moved here from Erimathea, they wanted to make sure I was... adjusting."

"Adjusting?" I ask.

"You know, to the whole... different sizes thing," he states.

"I guess it's sort of the same for me," I say. "I've lived most of my life in the undercity, so I've never really been around pertheans. It's... a difficult adjustment."

"It can be hard," Sam says, focusing on the path ahead of us. "And on top of that, I can't really talk to anyone about it without looking like I have something against pertheans."

"Tell me about it," I huff. "And the weirdest part is that other humans get so defensive when you tell them you're afraid of pertheans. They act like we're making us all look bad or something."

Sam stops dead in his tracks, nearly causing me to bump into him. "What did you just say?" he asks, turning around slowly.

Wait, what did I just say?! Did I let myself carelessly spill my biggest secret to some near stranger?!

"Uh—! I—!" I stutter, backing up from the boy in front of me.

"Did you just say you have—"

"I have to go!" I blurt out before darting around Sam and continuing toward the school.

"Wait!"

Something in me gives in, and I come to a slow stop a few yards in front of Sam. What am I doing? He's just going to tell me off!

A moment of silence passes us by. It dares me to turn around and face the boy behind me, but I can't.

"I... I thought I was the only one," he finally says.

I spin around. "W-what?" I ask, confusion setting in as I ponder what he could possibly mean. "The only one who...?"

"The only one who had... a fear," he finishes.

My eyes widen, and I take a few steps toward Sam. "You mean... you have a fear, too?"

He sighs, looking off to the side before returning his gaze to me. "Didn't I just say that?"

"I've never met anyone else with a fear of pertheans," I whisper as questions begin to flood my mind.

"Neither have I," he says, shifting in place.

"Have you ever told anyone?" I ask.

Sam cranes his neck back and stares at the skylights. "My parents know... and that only resulted in some pretty useless therapy."

"Useless, huh?" I say as we continue our walk.

"Yeah, all they really tell you in therapy is to expose yourself to your fears and hope things improve."

"I guess I had the same experience. My dad always says things will improve with exposure and time. I think he stole that line from my old therapist. I was too young to remember most of what she taught me," I say, rubbing one arm.

"So you struggled as a kid?"

"Yeah... when they started mixing humans and pertheans back in stage two, I would often have panic attacks at school," I cringe as my mind fills with unwanted memories. "The others would call me 'Kaylin Flinch,' or 'Flinching Finch.'"

"Kids can be brutal," Sam sighs.

"Yeah. If you don't mind me asking, how long have you had a fear?"

Sam narrows his eyes. "Since around the time I moved here, right before stage four. I tried a few different schools to see if exposure could help. Some were mixed, some were not. But no amount of exposure ever really helped."

I shift my gaze to the floor. What if Dad is wrong? Not that I want him to have something he can gloat about, but what if exposure and time aren't the keys to getting over my fear of pertheans? What if all the time I'm spending with Derrick after school isn't going to help me after all?

Sam stops, so I stop too. I look up, and above us is the sign for Pacific, dimly lit and weathered as usual. It's odd how something can decay like that when it's underground, completely unexposed to the elements of the surface world.

I look at Sam, and immediately, something feels off. The softness in his eyes has all but disappeared, and his posture is oddly stiff. I can't quite explain it, but there seems to be some kind of odd, dark energy emanating from him. I take a step back.

"Sam?" I try.

He opens the door to the school's lobby. "I have to go," he mumbles.

"So soon? We can at least walk out to the pick-up balcony together—"

"No," he interrupts, clutching the strap of his bookbag. "I-I'll... I'll see you later."

With that, he scurries off across the room and up a creepy old stairwell. Those stairs lead to the school's human hallways just like the elevators do, but I've never seen anyone take them. I sigh and enter an opening elevator with some other students. Will I ever understand this guy?

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

Taking a deep breath, I close my locker and adjust the strap of my bookbag. I haven't seen Sam since he managed to scurry off again, and something tells me I'm not going to for a while, no matter how curious I am about what's going on in his head. I thought it'd be nice to have a friend who understands what having a fear is like, but I don't imagine this guy really wants anything to do with me.

The balcony is crowded as usual, and I'm surprised when I see Derrick standing beside it. Usually, I have to search for a while to pick him out of the perthean crowd. Kevin is standing beside him with Brittney on his shoulder. A smile spreads across my face, and I hurry over to the group.

"It's good that you came back in spite of all that," Kevin says to Derrick.

"I'll still never forgive that jerk for what he did to you, though!" Brittney huffs.

I stop. What are they talking about? My heart races as I look around me for some place to hide. I decide to hide at the end of the balcony, where there's a perthean-sized plant of some kind, with long green leaves that are tall enough to keep me hidden. I just hope nobody peers around the plant and sees me!

"I'm sure he didn't withdraw just to hurt me," Derrick whispers. "It was complicated."

Wait, is he talking about his previous deskmate? The one he said had moved away?

"Well, whatever the reason, he had no right to just abandon you," Brittney says. "You two were the talk of the school for weeks after you both left!"

Derrick shuffles. "I know, but—"

"And now that you're back, people are starting to wonder if something's going to happen to Kaylin," Brittney says.

People are talking about Derrick and I? Whatever for?! What could possibly happen to me that would cause me to withdraw?

What did Derrick do to his old deskmate?!

Before I have much of a chance to think, something pulls me up into the air by the back of my blazer! My gut twists and churns, and what little breakfast I managed to get down threatens to reappear. The room spins as I kick and scream, hoping to get away from whoever snatched me up without so much as a warning.

I gaze beside me and realize my mistake when I see that Derrick, Brittney, and Kevin are all looking in my direction with wide eyes, just like everyone else in the room.

"Cherryn! Calm down! It's just me!" bellows a deep feminine voice above me as I'm placed onto a warm, leathery surface. "Look, I'm sorry I freaked you out! I won't do it again!"

My heart pounds a thousand times a minute as I look up into a pair of soft brown eyes. They widen when they meet my gaze.

"O-oh my gosh...! You're not Cherryn! I'm so sorry!" the girl apologizes as the hand beneath me begins to shake.

"Kaylin!" calls a familiar voice.

I turn around, arms glued to my trembling frame, and breathe a sigh of relief to see my deskmate approaching.

Wait, Derrick?! What if he realizes I was eavesdropping? Won't he be mad at me?

I quake like a leaf in a windstorm as I'm transferred from one pair of cupped hands to another, the muffled voices overhead conversing as I continue to worry about so many things at once. What's going to happen to me? Can I really trust Derrick?

"Hey," Derrick whispers, bringing the cupped hands I'm in closer to his face. "Are you alright?"

I stare into his eyes with uncertainty. I was starting to feel so sure around Derrick, but now? What am I supposed to think?

"I-I..." I start, reaching up to my face as warm tears begin to fall. "I don't know."

Derrick's brows turn upward, and his eyes soften. "Don't worry. You will be," he says, gently stroking my shoulder with his thumb. "Come on, let's go to class."

28 notes · View notes

moriitis · 6 hours ago

Note

Hey! Happy holidays, moriitis!

This is an unusual curiosity, but... What do you think about Toby being a father?

I feel like he wouldn't like having a child, or maybe he would, I don't know... do you think he would be a good father? (Let's suppose that hypothetically you have a daughter)

Have a nice Christmas, I love you! 💗

Father!Toby Rogers HeadCanons. Fem!Reader.

FIRST, I wanna say how fucking weird it was reading this ask at 5 am because I shit you not, before I went to sleep THIS VERY THOUGHT crossed my mind and I told myself I was gonna write this today. GET OUT OF MY HEAD. No, on a real note, glad we are on the same wave length. I LOVE THIS and thank you for requesting it! Have the most happiest of holidays yourself! <3 AND NO I LOVE YOU.

Content/Warnings; abortion, mentions of miscarriages, blood, birth, children, babies.

If you had asked him what he did on a specific Wednesday two weeks ago, he'd have no idea. That was one of the downsides to being a proxy; the memory loss and foggy mind. But fuck, did he remember the morning you told him you were pregnant. His heart fell through his ass, his skin colour turning fifty shades paler than usual.

Admittedly, his first reaction was to laugh. He'd snort in your face and narrow his eyes suspiciously toward you.

"Weird fucking thing to say."

Would be one of the first things he would say. Because you pranked him so often that he simply didn't believe you and it was such a weird fucking thing to say? What a weird prank?

But when you didn't laugh, his lips pursed nervously and he shifted from one foot to the other. The silence was louder than anything as you both stared at each other. The seriousness on your face, this was going too far.

"You're on birth control... right?"

And before he knew it, you were tearing up and right there and then he wanted a hole to swallow him up and eat him. This was bad, no, worse than bad; this was really fucking serious.

Slender would fucking kill him, he'd kill him first and then kill you. This wasn't supposed to happen, shit, he shouldn't have been fucking with you in the first place and now you were fucking pregnant?!

He wanted to panic, he wanted to dart out the door and leave forever but he was tied to Slender. Not just as a proxy, but a slave; a mere worker.

It was the look on your face too, he couldn't leave you? What kind of man were he? Not that he had a particularly good role model for what being a man was like

God forbid he turned into that man.

"Okay."

He would start -

"Okay, okay, ooookay."

He was reassuring himself more than he were reassuring you and his hands reached out to grip firmly on your shoulders. This didn't have to happen, he could.. well, you could fall down some stairs or better yet, drink some alcohol? That'll get rid of a baby, right?

Those thoughts, those dirty, putrid thoughts. What was he thinking? He was disgusted in himself but he couldn't help it, he was panicking.

He couldn't be a father, he was not made to be a father. What if he turned into him? What if he were to.. god forbid it, lay his hands on the babe? He was a dangerous individual, why should the softness of a baby stop him?

Perhaps it was because it were.. his baby. A life growing inside of... you.

"I can't do it."

He admitted.

"I am not fit to be- I CANNOT be- Our life- What we do- No, no, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I love you but-"

He was rambling. He was afraid, he couldn't bare to look at you because what if he were to suddenly lay a hand on you?

Sitting down with Toby and talking to him was the best option. To clear your minds, to form a plan - to figure out what to do and whether you both wanted this baby.

Toby was honest, so brutally honest that frankly it made you burst into tears.

"It's not that I don't want it- it's that I-.. I can't."

His words hurt so much but he promised he'd be there to help you each step of the way. Fuck, he'd even get Jack in an attempt to try and help with the termination.

But word travelled fast and it sure travelled quick.

Slender's rage was not shouting or screaming; it was the eerie silence or disappointing faceless stare he would give you. It was the nausea that followed, the anxiety that riddled itself in your blood stream.

And just like that, Toby's whole life was gone. You had just.. simply disappeared. And it killed him, the unknowing of what happened to you. It killed him to think that he could've possibly killed you.

But you were not dead. Slender had come to an... agreement.

You were to stay a proxy but you were to terminate the child and with that, he sent you on the other side of the forest. In a cabin, alone and to deal with your emotions.

Jack had came to aid you with the termination.

But something inside of you told you that.. you wanted this child. That perhaps this child was a chance of hope, of normality. That maybe you could escape.

And you hated to bare such a burden on a child that was not yet born.

It took a lot of convincing from Jack, a lot of persuasion to keep the baby and to do regular visits to ensure it was growing healthy. You were to birth the baby alone, for Jack couldn't risk getting caught. But he taught you well, how to handle it and of course gave you lots of books.

It was risky, going against Slender. He would know something was up, especially since you had not come back as quickly as he had expected.

So Jack lied for you, he hated it but did it nevertheless. What was he going to lose?

He told Slender you were in a coma and that he needed to do regular checks to ensure you were alive.

Slender wouldn't know, fuck, Slender wasn't human - so the lie worked perfectly.

The pregnancy was rough. Unwelcoming. You vomited everything up, you were unable to gather firewood due to the fatigue - so on most nights you would be freezing alone.

A part of you didn't expect the baby to survive. That you would miscarriage.

But weeks slogged into months and you were bursting.

And you had to do this alone.

You didn't count how long you were in labour for, but it felt like for days.

So much blood, that something was wrong and you just knew it.

But you pushed through, with each book Jack had given you being an aid.

The baby was born during the night.

And she did not cry. Nor weep, nor whine.

Your heart dropped.

You were slumped on the cabin floor, blood pooling around your thighs and knees as you doubled over. There, on the towels beneath you, were the child. Pale, small.

If it weren't for the shock, you would've moved instantly. But you couldn't. All you could do was watch in disbelief, your head glazed in sweat.

But motherly instincts kicked in quick.

And you reached for the scissors, cutting the cord and making haste to save your daughters life.

Your daughter. A girl. You had no idea what the gender were but it were evident as you helplessly rubbed the babes back, hoping to clear some airways to hear that cry.

Relief washed over you, a cry that would've seen irritating for some; music to your ears.

You had a daughter - she was alive!

It took Jack a couple months until he passed by again, he was on his rounds locally and knew he needed to check up on you. A part of him expected to find you dead and half of him prepared himself to the smell of death as he itched closer toward the cabin. The smell of the rotting corpse either being you, the child or both.

But there was a new smell. A sweeter smell.

He wasn't sure why he was surprised when he discovered the cooing child in your arms but he were.

You had named her Lyla.

And you ached for Toby.

Jack couldn't vouch for the coma lie anymore and he knew that soon you were to be caught.

So, he did what he thought were best. He dragged Toby's sorry ass here. And it took a lot of convincing.

Toby succumbing to depression at the idea of losing you. Spending most days in bed, grieving.

So, when he walked into the cabin, he quite literally dropped to his knees, it was like everything inside him had been healed.

"You're alive-?!" Toby choked out. A part of him believed he were dreaming. His eyes scanned every fibre of your being, your hair, eyes, lips and.. the baby in your arms. His mouth hung agape and you couldn't help the stream of tears that came flooding down your cheeks. The brunette couldn't lie, he couldn't say that you looked well because you didn't. You looked.. so hungry, so weak and yet this beautiful child looked so healthy. "You- is that- am I?" All you could do was nod to his words as you approached him, Toby barely able to find the courage to look at the child in your arms. No, he had to make sure you were real first. His hand reached out, fingertips barely grazing over your cheekbones and there he smashed his lips against your own.

It took a lot of explaining and Toby was.. well, in shock for an hour or two as he tried to come to terms with it all. The idea that you did this.. alone. That you carried this child alone for months, that you gave birth alone. He should've been there, he would've been in a heartbeat!

But that voice in the back of his head reminded him of the words he spoke to you on the day that you announced you were pregnant. Oh, how they were not true.

Because as soon as he glanced at the baby, he knew in that moment that he wanted to be.. a father. Well, he wanted to try.

"She's beautiful.." he whispered, voice hoarse as he fought back the lump in his throat. Toby reached out but stopped himself. What if even a mere touch would make the baby disappear? What if.. somehow, he hurt her?! His expression pained as he hesitated, between wanting to love but being too afraid to do so. The both of you exchanged glances, your own look encouraging him silently. You trusted Toby, despite his nature, despite what he does; you knew he would never hurt her. And you relayed those very thoughts with a look alone as you gently urged the little bundle toward him. Toby wanted to decline but slowly, he took the baby within his own arms. He was awkward, freezing and sitting as still as he could, like she were made out of glass. It made you laugh. "You're not going to hurt her," you reassured with words this time. "But what if the day comes that I do?"

When Toby found out his daughters name were Lyla, he broke down into tears. He was crying so much that he kept calling himself 'such a little bitch' between each sob.

It was pretty funny.

But you didn't laugh, you just rubbed his shoulder reassuringly as he sobbed tears over his daughter.

Which prompted Lyla to whine softly.

And then Toby cried more because he thought he hurt her. Shit, this man was more hormonal than you were.

It took Toby many weeks to adjust to this new lifestyle and he tried his best to form a bond with his daughter. You had the pleasure of nine months to form a bond, Toby had no time to prepare at all.

But it was hard because every time he looked at her, his heart broke into a million tiny pieces.

She was too perfect, too beautiful and anxiety consumed him at the thought of losing her. He had just got you back!

And you were the two girls in his life he loved ever so dearly.

So, he insisted that he looked after her more. Despite the fact that every time he held her, he wanted to fucking die. He was too damn anxious for this shit.

Admittedly, as weeks turned into months, you were thankful for Toby's willingness to parent more often.

But it was hard at the start

It seemed Lyla hated Toby and it frustrated Toby each time she would cry whenever she were in his arms

She was clingy, and you understood both of their emotions.

So when Lyla was asleep, Toby would feel his emotions get the better of him too. He would be angry, but his anger turned more into sadness as he stormed off into the wilderness for some alone time.

And this happened often. Toby needed time and you understood this, a part of you feeling guilty for thrusting this parent role upon him so suddenly - especially after he expressed his discomfort with the idea of being a father.

But it was still early days.

And you were unsure on what happened that particular night but when Toby came back from his usual walks, he was a different man.

And when he gently scooped Lyla up into his arms, it seemed she noticed that too.

Perhaps it was the confidence? Or how calm he appeared?

Whatever it was, it seemed now they were inseparable.

The love in his gaze as he rocked Lyla gently in his arms, like he was holding his entire world and nothing was going to take that away from him.

Well, that was until Slender found out.

And it turned into a literal shit show.

The way Jack came storming into the cabin, bursting your little bubble you had created, your idea of a happy, normal family disappearing as quickly as you had dreamt it.

The panic on Toby's face as he knew.

And you knew.

You expected worse, but Slender was... forgiving.

You were unsure what was said, whether Jack had swayed his mind or perhaps if Toby promised some unspoken promise.

But the cabin you had given birth in was to become your home.

On one condition.

You were banished. No, you would not go back to society - especially not after the things you know and had seen, but you were to stay here until your death. Which would not be a peaceful death, but that day would come. For now, Lyla was fine and despite your worry about her future; Slender agreed that she would be fine.

You did not trust the entity's words. But you were thankful nevertheless.

"How the hell did you get so big?!" You heard Toby yell from the living room, Lyla's giggles followed. From the corner of your eye, Toby spun her around in the space of the living room. There was no denying that the scene warmed your heart, but also made you chew the bottom of your lip anxiously.

Toby always said that you worried about her too much and maybe you did, but fucking hell... if her ankle caught the table or her head on the wall! Rushing over, you quickly waved your arms out. "Whoaa, okay, hold on- she's gonna hurt herself or get sick-!" you quickly spoke, trying to pitch your voice a little louder than Lyla's giggles. Toby stopped momentarily, Lyla in his arms and he looked at you with a questioning look. "She's fine, see?" Toby held her out and she flopped in his arms, almost looking as if she were about to drop on the floor and instinctively you threw your hands out to catch her. The brunette could only chuckle as he bundled her up close to his chest. "You worry too much." Those same words again and you rolled your eyes, a soft crinkle of irritation evident in your brow. Lyla was.. fine and perhaps you did worry too much, but Toby didn't really understand the concept of.. gentle playing. Like the times he'd throw her in the air, it make you wanna vomit at the idea of her hitting her head on the roof, or god forbid - he drops her. She was too little for this roughness and deep down, she'd always be your little baby. But Lyla was nearly two and it broke your heart to admit that, as much as you enjoy watching her grow.

And she preferred playing with Toby than with you. Mostly because she was a carbon copy of Toby himself. From the nose to the hair colour. She had your eyes though, so screw you Toby.

Toby became the very man he promised himself he would become, the very father he wished he had himself.

Loving and caring. Lyla was most certainly Daddy's little girl and Toby wore that badge with pride.

If it weren't for the circumstances and for the fact that Toby does not own a wallet he'd have little pictures of his daughter nestled away inside the pocket of his wallet.

Despite the bumpy start, Lyla couldn't get enough of Toby and he ensured that every night he'd read her a bedtime story. He'd even fall asleep himself sometimes just beside her bed, other nights just wanting to sit close in case something were to happen.

Admittedly, a part of you worried that Toby was.. too attached to her.

But whenever they were together, Toby was healing something inside of him that he thought could never be healed.

And essentially, he was living a childhood he had always wished for through his own daughter.

Eventually, Lyla blossomed into a teenager and it was.... hell.

"I fucking hate this cabin, I hate being here! Why can't we be normal! What's with all this off the grid shit!" The voice yelled from down the hall. Oh, she wasn't wrong, Lyla had every right to be pissed but having to live with an angsty teenager that hated everyone and everything was a lot worse.

And Toby never, NEVER, did the punishments.

Just... strict words.

No, he couldn't trust himself, so let you deal with it.

But at times he would find himself taking Lyla outside for a walk to talk to her. To let her know that he was there if she wanted to talk.

And yes, Toby does 100% sneak her out to go to the nearest town.

All in all, Toby would be, against all odds, the best father he could offer. Though I do see him not wanting kids at all. I also HC that all the proxies are infertile anyway.

But if it were to play out, it'd probably be something like this. Toby would be the cool dad where you could just about get away with some stuff. Toby would also be one of those guys where he claims he hates the cat kid and then forms such a close bond with the cat kid.

Oh, and is this man protective of his children too. !

Very much refers to his children as 'sperm pet.' Or he pulls a Kratos and he's kinda like 'get 'ere, boy/girl.'

I RAMBLED TOO MUCH

I feel like I didn't really answer your question

I'm sorry. I will write more about this in the future though.

#creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #ticci toby #toby rogers #creepypasta headcanons #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby headcanons #fuck i wrote so much im so sorry #this man could get me pregnant and i would say thank you #nah on a real note FUCK THEM KIDS FR

26 notes · View notes

pureshoney · 11 hours ago

Text

"i think i'm sweet … i suck your dick like i need it to breathe. does it get any sweeter than that?" she points out with raised brows as if she's making the most obvious case in the world. as if that point itself doesn't prove just how much of a vixen she actually is. "i could be both things at once. i'm a brat, but i'm also sweet. like when i cook for you, and you don't even eat it because you're too busy fingering me, that's also really sweet," throws him a saccharine smile, enough to give him a cavity. "i mean … if you really want to, you could see my face when you're spanking me. we could do it in front of the mirror next time? but it's not semantics; you just don't want to admit that i made a good argument," hues roll backward teasingly. this whole punishment thing really was a benefit to her, but a detriment to keenan. because truthfully, she doesn't think that there's any disciplining that the male could dole out that her twisted mind wouldn't enjoy. "no, don't worry about it, baby. i'll make sure i make it your thirty-fifth birthday gift. i'll have them engrave my name in them so you always remember me," the thought of the male at work and grazing his fingers over his hip bones only to feel imprints on it that spelled out dylan was enough to make her laugh. "then i'll always be calling you a good boy," while words upfront had salacious they had a deeper meaning. keenan always made her feel like the luckiest girl in the world, allowed her to be true to herself without the judgement she experienced from everyone else in her life. "mhm … sir," head nods in sync with the way her hips rise and drop, sopping pussy clenching around his cock. "i love riding you," almost as much as the blonde loves him, but that's better kept to herself for now. eyes never leave his while she's dragging his hand toward her warmth, "i do, i want you to fucking ruin me. make me cry while i bounce on your dick," kittenish cry bubbles out of slender neck when talented fingers brush over her throbbing clit, swallowing around the growing lump in her throat as she feels digit pushing in alongside his cock. "o- oh my god," head lulls backward just before a loud cry rolls out. nails dig into the toned abdomen, continuing to bounce up and down on her mans cock once cunt is finished adjusting to the extra girth. "yeah? you wanna hear?" queries with a seductive giggle, hints of pleasure seeping through her voice. "first i start fucking myself with my toy," leaning back, femme raises her hands to instead rest them on his thighs wanting to give homme a better look at how pretty her cunt looks with both his dick and finger sheathed inside her. "and then i use my fingers … next i wanna practice getting b- both your dick and my toy inside," femme lessens her pace just slightly, wanting to get a real feel for just how good it feels to have him stretching her out, feel each inch and throbbing vein in his girth. "put another one, please … sir. i can take it."

she was partially right, around dylan he felt at ease, comfortable and unwilling to even think about what he did when they spent their time apart and when work wasn't calling him in. but it was a little more complex than just having an attitude, his temper was slow to bubble, something he'd achieved through working at a dive bar that got scum customers on a regular basis — but when it did reach a boiling point it was bloody and unforgiving, something he never showed dylan. "you are my bratty princess, don't know if i'd describe you as sweet . . . at least not all the time", homme remarks with a grin, "but you're the brattiest dyl, if you think for even a second that you're not it just means i haven't spanked you hard enough." maybe he should take that saintly dildo of hers and stuff it down her throat, a mild attempt at getting his girl to realise what a vixen she was. "besides, everyone has a switch and if they say they don't they either liars or priests", counters with a swift nod, if only she knew just how dangerous he became when that switch of his did get flipped — he would never harm a single hair on her head, he knew that much for certain, but if dylan found out just who he was it could hurt her in a completely different way. "that's semantics, plus i can't see your face wet with tears when you're bent over my lap now can i? it's fun spanking you and listening to you mess up, but if i really want to punish my little slut i'm gonna make sure i can see that beautiful face while it happens." normally after a spanking session keenan couldn't resist sinking himself into her drenched heat, probably negating the whole damn punishment. it wasn't his fault his girl was a little twisted when it came to pain and pleasure, he just leaned in to it. "wow okay i am very offended by that, hip replacements are expensive baby — do you think i should start saving now?" male jokes with a faux contemplative expression. "i'd break my hips just to see you open the door to me in that outfit again, princess. made me want to just eat you instead of the food." which he assumes had been the purpose, tempt him in to forgetting about her meticulously rolled out and shaped pasta and dough. "yeah? i feel like i'm due some praise every now and then, princess. so go ahead, call me a good boy when i've made you feel like the luckiest girl on earth." it was how she made him feel, after all. as if someone above them all had decided that keenan deserved one good thing in life, one pure source of happiness that made him believe that the world wasn't completely fucked up. "sir?" balls tighten at the little nickname, a whoosh of air leaving his lungs. "kinda like that, princess . . . almost as much as like you bouncing on my dick." the way her walls clamped around his slick length was torturous in how amazing it felt, how perfect her body looks riding him like it's all she'll ever want. tongue darts out to wet his lips, allowing her to guide his hand down to that damp cunt. "oh . . . damn princess, you wanna get stuffed like that?" it's overwhelming, how hot her pussy feels under his fingertips alongside the way she takes him so sweetly. "want me to ruin this pretty cunt, huh? stretch it out until you cry those pretty tears for me?" he's eager but refrains from acting swiftly, instead circling her clit lightly before delving down. beginning to push his index finger in alongside his cock keenan groans, digit brushing against his own length as her walls shudder around the extra girth. "fuckin' hell dyl, you've been practicing this? how? tell me."

#dylan / keenan .#unraptures #usfw

71 notes · View notes

alien-girl-21 · 1 day ago

Text

Since I won't see my friends until next year, I thought it would be a perfect time to do this again

Joker out and käärijä as random shit my friends say!!

(+ sneaky joost in one entry)

Under the cut because it's LONG

Kris: I actually miss Bojan, i'm going to tell him to come back from New York... but don't tell him I said that, it might get to his head that I actually like him

Bojan: writes on the board

Jan: is that arabic?

-Bojan's first time taking money out of the atm-

Bojan: what do I do now?

The screen of the atm: please select the language of your transaction

Martin: choose Slovenian, idiot

-at the airport-

Bojan: I'm going to get a pamphlet real quick

Jan: sure, I'll wait here

Bojan, coming back empty handed: I think I fell in love

Kris: in bojan's defense —not to defend him— but in his defense

Nace: hey, you wanna share this cookie?

Jan: sure

Nace: it doesn't break though, I already ate my half

Jan: you're an idiot, of course it can break, here, see? I broke it

Bojan: I ship you guys

Jan: -breaks a chair-

Jan: fuck, let me fix it -breaks the chair even more-

Jure: try to put the thing in that hole

Jan: -fixes the chair- Bob the builder 😎

(In the gc)

Jere: you want go party?

Bojan: I can't

Bojan: i'm sick and don't want to get worse

Kris: if Bojan isn't going, I'm not going

Jure: no fucking way 🤣

Bojan: I had to read that twice

Bojan: I was about to call him a bitch

Allu: if someone was killed while we were together, I think that Jesse, Jukka, and Jere would be the most level headed one's

Jesse: I think that Jere would be the one in charge to calm us

Jere: I would be making jokes like "at least we're better than that guy" and pointing at tommi's dead body

Jure: might go to this -shows a flyer for a singles only cruise-

Nace: only 99 euros? That's cheap... when is it?

Bojan: aren't you taken?

Nace: Oh fuck, I am

Bojan: apologize now

Nace, taking his phone out: I'm so sorry, babe

-during esc-

Bojan: okay, we're next, we can do this

Nace: -starts doing push ups for some fucking reason-

Jere: i go on stage now

Bojan: NOOO— i mean, YESSS

Jere: ?

Bojan: i'm just used to you leaving me alone :(

Jure and bojan: playfighting

Jure: now it's your turn, jan!

Bojan: jan wouldn't do that to me because he respects me 😌

Jan, getting ready to slap bojan:

(In spanish because there is no way to translate this dad joke)

Bojan: antes de que se me olvide, les quería contar un chiste: donde nacen las computadoras?

Jure: no sé

Bojan: en el mar

Nace: por qué?

Jan: porque navegan

Bojan: porque son peces

Kris: miren a los tremendos payasos que nos cargamos en esta banda

Bojan: 🥰

Host: for this, we're going to need groups of 6

Joker out: does a group hug

Bojan, tapping jere's arm: jere, jere

Jere: what?

Bojan: join us

Jere: really? Me? 🥰

Bojan: yes, you, you're part of the group 🥰

Kris: can you two stop?

Kris: do you have a pen?

Bojan, handing him a rainbow pen: yeah

Kris: gay pen

Bojan: at least it works

Kris: faggot

Bojan: I am! You have a problem with that?

Kris: I was talking to the pen! Not you!

Interviewer: Who would survive the longest in a deserted island?

Everyone: Jure

Bojan: I could survive, I think

Kris: I think that a coconut would fall on your head and you would die

Jesse: if a girl asked to peg you, what would you say?

Häärijä: no

Jere: skill issue

While watching a football game, in the gc:

Jan: well, i'm going to wait for the game to start while eating my cereal

Bojan: now I want some

Jan: the small box costs 2 euros in the supermarket

Bojan: you know what? I'm going to the supermarket now, i'm going to spend money because of you

Jan, sending a pic of the cereal box: here it is for reference 👍🏻

Bojan, after turning the washing machine on and somehow there was a power outage in the whole floor at the same time: ☹

Martin: hey, don't worry, it wasn't your fault, bojč

The electrician, a couple of days later: yeah, so, the outage was caused because someone used too much electricity in this apartment while someone was showering in the unit next to this one

Martin: so it was your fucking fault

Jan: I photoshopped us into some world cup images

Nace: it looks like Messi is kissing you, Bojan

Bojan: yeah

Jure: that's your dream right? Messi kissing you?

Bojan: yeah 🥰

Someone: yeah, so I spoke with the director, and he asked me if I spoke dutch and I said yeah

Jure: can you speak duch to us?

Someone, in dutch: I can, but what can I say? I just learned it to learn it, not because I liked it

Jan: okay, okay, Kris, it's your turn, reply in Dutch!

Jure: like we practiced

Bojan: literally jumping up and down like an excited puppy

Kris: this is bullshit, stupid fucking coordinators, they have shit in the fucking head instead of a stupid brain!

Jan: said the princess

-while playing volleyball-

Jure: just imagine the ball is your ex!

Bojan, cradling the ball in his arms: i'm so sorry, it was all my fault, I miss you everyday

Jan: great job, idiot

Nace: you look really good today, Bojan

Kris: yeah, your outfit is really well color coordinated

Bojan: thank you, krisko

Nace: and what about me?

Bojan: it's because Kris only bullies me, so a compliment from him matters more

Jure: idk if I'll be able to go out this Saturday, my parents are starting to make milk, and because of that I need to close their shop that night

Kris: making milk?

Jure: soy milk, yeah

Kris: Oh, I was about to ask since when did your parents have cows

Nace: moo

Jan: moo

^ they proceed to moo at each other for the next five minutes while the conversation carries on

Jere, just minding his business:

Häärijä, handing him a paper crown: you are now the queen of this realm

Jere: ❓

Häärijä: you will be the queen until we vote on who will be coronated next

Jere: thanks?

Häärijä: my pleasure, your majesty

Kris: I actually didn't call any of my exes while I was drunk last night, that's a great achievement!

Jere: hey guys, sorry if you hear me swearing, i'm playing a videogame..... FUCKING BULLSHIT

Jesse, after jere got the piña colada tattoo: hey can I see your prision tattoo?

Nace: remember to participate in the meeting

Bojan: i'm watching football

Nace: they're asking you a question bojč

Bojan: GOAAALLL!!!!!

Bojere, sitting chest to back in a bench:

Jan:

Bojan: Oh Jan, sorry that we're facing away from you

Jere: you want to hug me too? Join train?

Jan: yeah sure, let me just—

Jere: no! Don't touch me!

Kris: I would like to go back in time to meet Jesus and smoke weed with him

Käärijä: so, I'm walking to get to work, and I see a line of police cars and I'm thinking "I fucking hope that they don't want to do spontaneous searching because my bag is 90% weed, 10% my actual stuff"

Someone: yeah, this is my daughter, she's 4 and learning how to play drums

Bojan: that's your daughter? Oh my gosh 🥺

Kris: Bojan, you have a severe case of baby fever

Jere: where are the bathrooms?

Jukka, craning jere's head up to see the giant "TOILET" sign above them: over here

Kris: would you be with a guy?

Bojan: I'm bisexual, of course

Kris: what? 😱

Bojan: I already told you, you know this!

Kris: WHAT??

Joost, in the middle of having sex: babe wait, codnom broked :(

Kris: do you guys think the bouncer will let me in? I'm kind of tipsy

Jan: just go in confidently, he won't suspect a thing

Bojan: the last time he went in confidently he was banned from the club

Jan: so, how'd you sleep last night?

Kris: good

Jan: you don't seem so convinced

Kris: I slept in late

Jan: how late?

Kris: midnight

Jan: Oh, how blasphemous, how late

Kris, anytime they go to a new city: look at this door! I'm too tall to fit in it... look at this other door! I'm also too tall to fit in it... look at this door!

Bojan, about stephanie: she's the world cup and i'm bolivia.... but hopefully I'll be bolivia in '94 and she will still be the world cup

Jan: I'm not like Jesus, at all

Bojan: well, you kind of are in some ways

Kris: yeah, you only hang out with fags and prostitutes

Bojan, pointing at them: here you have three fags

Bojan, pointing at jure: and there's a prostitute

Jesse: why are you leaving everything for last minute?

Jere: because I fucking want to and I fucking can 😝

Häärijä, holding up the printed meme: 🐴🤝🏻🐴 no pelien

During a post-barcelona pre-party meeting:

Kris: I think that's all for today

Bojan: typing very loudly

Jan: who are you talking to?

Bojan: with someone 🥰 you know him already

Nace: ohhh the lovebirds 😏

Bojan: raising his hand up repeatedly

Kris: yes, Bojan?

Bojan: I'm really happy 🥰🥰 -instantly goes back to typing-

Kris: I'm happy for you, man

Jere after inflating five balloons for a party: well, my job here is done, time for my very well deserved rest

Jesse: get back up, you fuck, we need to move these chairs

Häärijä: bartender! Bartender! Bartender!!

Jere: I'm here, what do you want?

Häärijä: hi :) -leaves-

Bojan: sometimes I feel like I am batman and žare is the riddler

Jukka: you guys would be the worst clowns at a kid's birthday party. They would ask you for swords, and you would give them snakes

Kris, after seeing Jure having a sugar crash: someone give him a fucking celery or something, he's fucking melting on the couch!

Jere: you live life like it's last day, say sorry to people, hug people, even punch if you have to punch!

All of joker out: raising their fists to punch bojan

Jere: we only had a 5 euro budget for this secret santa so I bought one chocolate bar

Allu: it's not even wrapped!

Jere: wrapping paper is expensive!

During the secret santa:

Allu: I'm so fucking scared of seeing who jere got

Jere: so I had to buy something for...... Jesse!

Jesse: FUCK!

#yes i do think they're all fucking clowns and i love them for it 💕#main tagging because this was a 6 month effort #joker out #käärijä #joost klein #<- he makes a special guest appearance in the quote that made me laugh the hardest so.....

26 notes · View notes

multifandom-exe · 1 day ago

Text

Leather Jackets and Ketchup ‘Mishaps’- S.Black x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k (my longest yet :p) Request: hey there! can i get one with prompts 79, 174 and 175, with Sirius, please? thank you! Prompts: 79. No its just… I cant believe your wearing my clothes” 174. “Did you see what she was wearing?” 175. “So what if I had sex with your ex?”

A/N: this is a rewrite of an old fic from nearly 5 years ago. Find the terrible original here. Lmk if ive improved. Warnings: None rlly, swearing, kissing, marlene hate (sorry marlene your my wife but youre sacrificed to the story)

A hogsmeade weekend! Practically the only thing keeping the students of Hogwarts from pitching themselves off the astronomy tower during their 6th year. You and Lily had planned to meet up with the boys later on for some drinks an some shopping, definitely spurred on by Lilys growing affection to James (no matter how much she denies it).

You stared into the full-length mirror stuck to the wall. It felt as though something was missing in your outfit. Youd worn your favorite today, but it still didn't feel like enough. Lily sat on the bed behind you, looking as perfect as ever.

“Can you stop hogging the mirror please, i need to do my makeup!” She nudged you with her leg that was hanging off the bed as a giggle bubbled up from her throat.

“My outfit is not suffering because you want to look nice for James Potter!” You turned to her with that sly look as her face dusted rosy, pink, whilst she spewed phrases of denial.

“Well, my makeup is suffering because you want to look nice for Sirius.” Now it was your turn to gasp.

She had this idea that you were in for it with Sirius. You disagreed of course. Sure, i mean, you had feelings for him, you liked him. He was funny, attractive, and almost as smart as you. But it had been 6 years, if there was going to be any movement on that front, besides flirting that could make Casanova blush, it probably would've happened already. You were trying to let it go, but its difficult when you see him every day.

“Not true! You know he doesnt like me like that, im totally over it!” You began observing yourself in the mirror again, as she gave you that, ‘whatever you say’, look. “Speaking of, though, a nice leather jacket is just what this outfit needs, do you have one?” Lily agreed and turned to look into her trunk for a jacket.

“No, sorry sweetheart”.” You jutted your lip out and frowned a little. There goes your perfect outfit.

After a little more observing in the mirror, whilst you watched Lily apply her makeup on the floor, the obvious thought entered your head. “You know who does have a leather jacket.” That mischievous smirk littered your face. “Sirius.”

Lily then put a head in her hands, and you could see her reaction in the reflection of the mirror. “Sure you don't have a thing for him?”

“Shut up lils, your just jealous of how goooood im gonna look.” You guessed Sirius wouldn't have a problem with it. Youd shared a lot of things over the years. Blankets, books, food, tea, you name it.

She chuckled at that and finally stood up, giving herself a final glance in the mirror. “You know the boys will have a fit when they see you in that.”

You rolled your yes, laughing softly. “Yeah, because those boys are the authority of fashion.”

She giggled at that too, before picking up everything she needed for the day. “Well, whilst you commit grand larceny, im going to go get my pancakes!” She drawled sarcastically as she turned to leave.

You muttered a soft goodbye as you also grabbed everything you needed. The boys had said before that you were free to use their dorm whenever, although Remus did add ‘Not for nefarious purposes Casanova’. You slipped out of your dorm, your boots hitting the floor with purpose. A woman on a mission. A leather jacket mission.

The door to their dorm creaked open slowly, as if you were trying not to wake them. but you were surprised to see they weren't all still asleep right now, desperately savoring every extra 5 minutes.

Their dorm was an exact reflection of each of them. Vinyl records of the latest rock bands on the walls. Books and chocolate strewn about. Stubbed out cigarette butts (Don't tell Minnie). Dirty shoes and outfits from the last quidditch game. Mugs of tea forgotten about. It was so them. Everything you loved about your friends, all perfectly wrapped up in one little room. You made a mental note to spend more time here.

As your eyes glanced around the room, you finally spotted it, dangling across the back of a chair that was pushed against his desk. It was surprising that it was actually here, since Sirius was very rarely seen without it. It had S.B written on the back in big white letters, and various patches from bands. But according to Mary, ‘the back of my outfit isn't my problem because i can even see it’.

You slid it across your shoulders and instantly felt more comforted. The familiar scent that you loved enveloped you. You turned and checked yourself out in the boy's mirror. Now this was a complete outfit. Perfect for a Hogsmeade weekend.

You slipped back out of the boy's dorm and started making your way down to the great hall for breakfast.

You pushed open the heavy doors to the great hall, the smell of fresh breakfast food immediately hitting you. You skipped down to the table, going to meet up with the girls to discuss the future Hogsmeade antics.

You giggled as you jogged past the marauders. With the prettiest smile, you waved to them. “Hi boys, don't cheap out in Hogsmeade later!”. You rushed to meet with the girls, oblivious to all the eyes that were on you.

As you sat down, the boys, who were a little further up the table, all sat gawking at you. James nudged Sirius excitedly. “D’ya see what Shes wearing mate?”

He had seen, which is why, when James had asked him, he had barely been able to form a response. He had felt the wind be knocked out of him as he saw you giggling and waving, clad in his leather jacket. It was almost like he was in a trance, raking his eyes over every inch of your frame, wondering how on earth that happened. And how he could get it to happen every single day. His thoughtfulness was broken by his friend's voice belting across the table.

“Oi, (Y/N), you look absolutely astonishing in Padfoot’s jacket!” The sound of your name made you whip your head up, as you giggled with a blush coating your cheeks. Just as quickly as he had shouted, Lily had shouted back.

“Dont be jealous James, just because you don't want to share him!” This caused all your friends to burst into a fit of laughter, all except one. Marlene was holding a firm glare at you from across the table.

The boys vehemently questioned Sirius for the next 5 minutes. Questions of ‘did you know she was gonna wear that?’ or ‘did you finally make a move?’ or ‘i bet you're loving this’. The latter wasn't really a question, more a very correct observation which made him blush.

Their conversation was cut short however, when they heard a clatter of plates from a little way down the table. They all snapped their heads toward the sound and found you and Marlene glaring at each other across the table. If looks could kill, wow. It had honestly only been a few minutes since you arrived, and they were all puzzled as to what could've happened in such a short time.

And then, as if you were reading their minds. “So what if you had sex with your ex?” Came from you, as you flicked your head to the side condescendingly. The boys' jaws dropped; they probably would've hit the floor if there wasn't a table in the way. James looked as if he was watching the best soap opera of his life.

Sirius and Marlene had a fling a few weeks back. It obviously meant more to her than him. And through the pangs of jealousy, you had comforted her. But it seems that wasnt enough for her, she wanted you to drop Sirius entirely.

Sirius felt a jab into his ribs, and he quickly dragged his eyes away from the scene. “Ow!” He mouthed silently, trying not to disturb the tension. Remus rolled his eyes and mouthed back, ‘did you actually sleep with her?’. Now it was Sirius’ turn to roll his eyes as he whispers. ‘Obviously not, you know she doesn't like me back’.

‘Yeah, he wishes. Peter added quietly, which caused Sirius to blush and tut, before they all turned their attention back to the scene.

“Listen, im sorry he didn't want you, but that's no reason to treat me horribly, because he wants me now, is it?” The condescension in your voice was enough to grate on anyone who was on the receiving end.

“Not wrong on that one.” Remus whispered quietly, causing Sirius to whack his arm lightly. HIs heart rate sped up like crazy. Did you know he liked you, all this time? Or where you just trying to get under her skin. The thoughts felt overwhelming.

And then, It almost felt as if time slowed, as they watched Marlene snap. She grabbed the jug of pumpkin juice on the table and dashed it all over you. You had an utterly shocked look on your face. Not just because you were covered in pumpkin juice, but also because you were slightly impressed, she stood up for herself.

But alas, war does not stop because of bravery. Your hand quietly slid a bottle of ketchup under the table as you spoke. Marlene had missed it, but it didn't get past Sirius. “You know Marlene, I wouldn't wanna ruin that pretty fake blonde hair of yours.” You laughed cynically, lifting the ketchup bottle.

That second, Sirius jumped from his seat and ran down the table, grabbed your waist and hauled you up in his arms. He was already dragging you away as you pressed down on the bottle, squirting it all over her.

“Ugh! You Bitch!” She screamed as she desperately tried to rub the ketchup from her face, with the girls next to her trying to calm her down.

You laughed maniacally as you struggled against Sirius's grip while he carried you out of the great hall. Phrases of ‘let go Sirius!’ and ‘it wasn't my fault!’ fell from your mouth. Youd eventually stopped struggling about halfway to the common room, accepting your fate.

When you finally reached the common room, he dropped you lightly onto one of the couches, and loomed over you, like a teacher about to reprimand you.

“Sirius! Why did you drag me out of there I was winning?” The adrenaline was still clearly running through your veins as you laughed. By the look on his face, he did not find it funny.

“(Y/N). You’ve just lost your friendship with Marlene, and potentially just sacrificed your friendship with Lily and Mary.” That definitely soured your mood. Suddenly, it wasn't very funny. “Why, in Godric Gryffindors name, did you do that?”

You threw your hands down on the couch and pouted. “You wouldn't get it, Pads.” You sighed and tried to turn away from him.

He had crouched down to your level now, turning you back to him with a hand on your knee. “Oh yeah, what’s so possibly bad that it warranted staining a girl, apparently fake blonde hair, news to me by the way, red with ketchup?” You tried to hide your giggle at his comment and did your best to keep silent. “Seriously, did she insult you or something? Whatever it was couldn't have warranted that.”

You sighed again as the argument replayed through your head. You could already feel the anger building up in you again. “You should’ve heard what she was saying about you Sirius, it was all ‘he’s this, he’s that’ And then! She insinuated I slept with you, for my own personal gain, not because I liked you, not because Im in love with you, she thought I did it for bragging rights! Which is absolutely ridiculous by the way. Anyone who uses someone for bragging rights is absolutely disgusting, especially if they use you. So no, her insulting me wasn’t enough to warrant ketchup hair, but insulting you was!”

You were bordering on shouting at this point, although your anger was misdirected. You took a deep breath and tried to calm your shaking hands. After a beat, you lifted your head to look at him, worried youll still find an angry look in his eyes.

Instead, he was gaping at you. You furrowed your brows, questioning the incredulous look on his face.

“You said you loved me.” He whispered lightly, worried if he spoke too loudly the words might crack his resolve.

Your eyes widened as you studied his features. “I did not!” You tried to insist but the shock caused it to come out smaller than intended.

“Yes, you did! You love me!” A smirk spread across his face as he pointed a finger at you. There was another beat of silence, before you jumped up from the couch and tried to run away from him.

“Come here!” Unfortunately for you, his tall stature was not just for show, as he quickly caught up with you.

He caught up with you as you rounded the couch again, pushing you down onto it. He had you captured between his arms. All he did was stare at you, into your eyes.

“Im sorry your jackets covered in pumpkin juice.” You spoke softly in the space between you two.

“It's fine i just...” His eyes racked over your figure once more. “I just can't believe your actually wearing my clothes.”

You giggled in response and muttered low apologies.

“Plus, I like the taste of pumpkin juice” He smirked, capturing your gaze again. Obviously, you didn’t get the memo, as your response was…

“Taste? I know you're a dog, but you don't lick your-” but your words were soon cut off by Sirius’ voice.

“For once in your life, be quiet!” He chuckled lowly before leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss. It was slow at first, soft, almost anticipatory, but it quickly sped up, almost like it was 6 years of emotions spilling out into one kiss.

“I love you too, by the way” He breathed out as you broke apart, your foreheads laying against each other

“Well id be very upset if you kissed somebody you didn't like, like that” You giggled, lightly running your hand through his hair.

“And i love seeing you in my jacket by the way. But maybe next time tell the truth, and dont antagonize and cause a scene.” His reprimand fell short since he had the dopiest grin on his face. “But thank you for standing up for me.”

You didn't think your grin could get any wider, “Of course.” You lay another kiss on his lips. Maybe Lily was right, you are definitely in for it.

Bonus

The portrait hole swung open as James, Remus and Peter tried to search for their friend. Who was wrapped up in his own little world with his sweetheart on the couch.

They stepped through as James tried to shout up to the dorm. “Pads? We're going to Hogsmeade soon!” His shout wasnt answered, so he glanced around the room. He found you two nuzzled together on the couch, only breaking away at the sound of his voice.

“Oh, Christ alive, Pads get a room! Peter cover your eyes!” James wrapped a hand around his friend's eyes as you and Sirius burst into a fit of giggles on the couch.

“Were coming!” You both untangled from each other and shifted off the couch.

“I cant believe that was what got them to confess! A jacket! D’you think it would work the same if i wore Lilys clothes?” And with a smack of the back of his head from Remus, the group left to finally enjoy their Hogsmeade weekend.

A/N: lmk how i did, leave requests for any hp character. comment for taglist. i love u

#sirius black x reader #sirius orion black #sirius black #marauders #marauders era #remus lupin x reader #harry potter #sirius black x you

41 notes · View notes

asarajaa · 22 hours ago

Note

Hiiiii Sarah, I'm one of your new followers and I just wanted to say that, I LOVED the Wally West x Reader angst fic (it had me screaming into a pillow) you wrote a while back !!!

I do have request tho , would you maybe be willing to write a part 2 of that fic? It was just sooo good and I couldn't get it out of my head

Tysm my love!! I wasn't very sure about how it turned out but your comment really hyped me up 💗. Of course! ty for following me and I hope this reach your expectations!!

Warnings: fem!reader, angst romance, forbidden love, reincarnation (?) Words: 2338 Disclaimer: English isn't my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

You always liked cats.

They were cute and fluffy, but what you liked the most was the myth that cats were able to live 9 lives.

Of course, your logical and trained superhero mind knew that such a thing as reincarnation had very little chance of happening and much less with cats, but you liked to fantasize about it anyways.

You would catch yourself constantly thinking about it, 9 lives. 9 different whole lives, what would you do with those? The answer, for you, was obvious.

You would plan your 9 lives, thinking about what you would do and with who. Maybe you weren’t a superhero in one, maybe you were just a normal civilian, maybe you liked to do snorkeling and once and for all stopped fearing the ocean.

Yeah, that would be what you’d do in your first life.

You would spend your first life snorkeling, feeling all the different textures of sea animals and organisms. Maybe you would get bitten or harmed by one and needed medical attention and as you would be lying in the hospital’s bed, sedated with medication, you would no longer fear the sea and lived near to it for the rest of your first life.

And then, after your accident, maybe you could even have a date with the cute doctor that laughed but thanked you when you said— high as a comet— that his eyes were the most beautiful jewels you’ve ever seen, they reminded you of emeralds.

In your second life you would be born in a word without any type of powers or superheroes, you would decline your mothers wish of being model and choose a peaceful and quiet life, studying mechanical engineering because your dream job would be to be a F1 driver— but you would settle for being the person who designs the cars they’d drive, if being a driver didn’t work out.

At night, when the world was supposed to be asleep, you would sneak into the underworld and spend your nights racing illegally, a big smile on your face— because you never knew why or how, but going super fast without any other feelings besides adrenaline made you feel happy and free.

You would laugh while you drove at full speed, the tires would squeal and the car would give off a toxic smell of CO₂ that would seep into your lungs. You would love the feeling of the adrenaline running through your veins and your heart racing as much as your car, the air brushing your hair because you’d like to leave the car windows open while you’d drive.

Then, one night, for the first time, you would be defeated by a new guy that just moved into your town. He would be the new Drift King that would make you eat the ground for the first time in a long time. The thought of your next race would make your face lighten up because since that day, you wouldn't stop thinking about new techniques to defeat and take your place as the Drift Queen back from that damned new guy who’s hair looked like a forest in the autumn season.

In your third life you would be an absolute fan of superheroes. You would help your twin brother, Dick Grayson, to fight at night being his computer specialist. You would also help your father figure, Batman, and whoever he asked you to help to.

You loved superheroes, but you could never be one, never. The job was too risky, you needed to be the one who would take care of them from the comfort of your house, being a type of online vigilante that even though it technically could train and fight goons, would never try to.

You would help Alfred with the cooking and assist your brother and father figure when they would train, handing them towels and bottles of water when necessary. You even learned medical assistance under the wing of Alfred, being too afraid to lose your new family member like you did a time ago in a circus.

You would help your family and some years later, when the death of your younger brother and the moving of your twin one would be too much to handle, you would find yourself moving too.

You would escape far away, leaving all the things you’ve known behind and trying to create a normal life with normal acquaintances.

But it couldn’t be that easy, could it? What was the saying? Once a vigilante, always a vigilante. It seemed like troublesome things would be attracted to you like magnets.

So, taking that into account, you weren’t very surprised when a robbery attempt happened in your local bank.

You would act calm—the teachings of Bruce sunk in your mind like roots—as you followed the criminals orders, all the time tricking them into perceiving you as submissive as you would subtly protect the rest of the civilians. Technically you were a civilian too, but it wasn’t the same, you had more than basic training that Batman taught you that you followed since a kid.

But before anyone could get hurt, The Flash entered the building, saving all of them in a flash. You would observe him, Wally West, the new Flash and your twin brother's best friend save all of you.

Wally and you have never been that close, the only reason you guys got along was because of Dick but when he moved to Bludheaven and you moved to Central, at some point, the calls and the messages stopped.

You tried to brush it off but the truth was that you missed your twin brother, you missed your father father figure, you missed Alfred and you were secretly excited to meet the new young boy—Tim, if you recall—that entered the family.

You sometimes envied Wally, since your brother always hung out with him and for some years, Wally West has known most things about your brother than you, even know, he probably still talked and meet him while you would only stare at your shared chat—one that has been silent for some time—in silent, waiting for a magical text to appear.

The Flash came into your way, not even looking at you as he moved his hands to untie your hands, your heart raced as you thought if he would remember you.

“You okay, ma’am?” he would ask calmly in a i’m-comforting-a-civilian voice.

“Yeah, thanks” you would answer, your heart skipping a beat when his head raised quickly, eyes wide open as he looked at you. His eyes comparing you to the version of you that he remembered, surprised written all over his face like if he didn’t expect to see you.

You would thought that he reacted like that because he didn’t knew you moved here, which made you ask yourself why Dick didn’t tell him. Maybe he stopped caring for you after all?

He stumbled over his words but the only thing you had in your mind was—

Oh, he still got a constellation drawn in his face.

Months passed and after encountering him a lot of times because of superhero type of problems, he finally would ask you to grab a coffee with him to "catch up".

In your fourth life you probably would run away.

You would travel the word and meet places you never thought they would exist until you landed on them. You would block all of the persons you once knew, breaking the expectations your family had for you—maybe you would listen to them in another life, who knows.

In your fourth life you would be in every city for a while but you never stayed long enough to make stable friends, you would be surrounded by different people from different cultures, cities and personalities but you would be completely and utterly alone cause none of them would be a person you would trust your life with.

In your loneliness you would adopt a big and fluffy dog and raise it by yourself, making it travel the world with you and stay by your side to the point where it would watch you take your last breath on this earth.

In your fourth life you would never be able to find him, to find the right person and who was meant for you. You weren’t ready and since being ready is a decision, you would decide that you’d never be. You wouldn’t even give anyone the chance to approach you in the fear of disappointing them so you always left before they could get the chance to do it.

In your fifth life you listened to your family’s advice.

You would take your family out of poverty, you’d retire your parents after you studied a career you didn’t like at all, fulfilling the dream they asked your older brother to do before he runned away .

You would get a job that would make you work from 8 to 6, you would make a stable income and settle down with a man you’re not very sure you’re in love with but he would be a good father to your children.

You would buy a house near the beach, where you would take your children to do snorkel under your teaching while your husband would reading a book as he laid down in the sand after he took your children to collect ‘sea treasures’, as they liked to called them, before you took them to do snorkel.

You would forgive some infidelities for the sake of your family and would kill yourself yourking to make sure your children had everything they needed, unlike you did when you were their age.

You weren’t completely happy and you were sure your younger self would feel a little disappointed of you, but you didn’t have a bad life and some women had worse family issues.

Sometimes, when your kids were swimming in the seashore and your husband went for a walk when his phone began to ring, you would stare into the little golden sea star necklace your childhood best friend gave you for your birthday right before you moved from Central City to Star City.

You would smile at the memories of that little boy who always was up to a race with the other kids, remembering how you promised to marry each other at 30 if none of you had a couple for that time and how you exchanged gifts, he’d gave you a golden sea star necklace and you would gave him a golden thunderbolt bracelet because he always said something like—“I’m as fast as a flash!”

You’d wonder who that little boy was nowadays, what his job was and what happened to his life.

In your next 2 lifes you would be lost.

You wouldn’t know what to do with your life or with whom. You would have a nostalgic, beautiful but painful feeling everytime you walked into nature because the color green meant something to you, reminded you of someone you just couldn't make yourself remember to who.

You would have the same feeling everytime the sun would express itself through sunrise and sunset, because the mix of those warm colours would remind you of a love you weren’t capable of remembering having felt before.

It would happen everytime you would see a ginger, no matter if it was a boy or girl. Your heart would begin to race for no known reason as you would wait for them to turn around, feeling disappointed when they weren’t who you expected them to be—but it wasn’t like you knew who you were expecting either.

You would feel empty because you desire something with all of your heart but you never knew what it was.

In one life, you would find it.

In the another one, you wouldn’t.

Then you would reach your eighth life— the one you prayed you were living.

In your eighth life, you and Wally would find a cure to the reaction of your abilities combined.

You would cry tears of joy when time passed and none of you could feel any difference from the first minute you guys started to be near each other.

Wally would kiss you all the time he could, a smile on his face because no matter how many minutes he would be by your side, his body didn’t slow down.

You would make your relationship public, receiving blessings from all the people you’ve known and approving smiles from both of your mentors.

In your eighth life you two would marry each other properly, a big ceremonie for all your known ones and then a little dinner for the closest ones. You would wear your ring proudly in your finger instead of hiding it in a necklace under your shirt.

You would travel the world together for a year after your marriage before settling down on the outskirts of Central City, leaving behind the apartment on the second floor you guys shared before in the centre of the city.

You would have children, two twin boys that were as handsome as their daddy and a little girl that was as beautiful as her mommy.

In your eighth life, your self being wouldn’t be a threat to the other one. You know your eighth life is like this because sometimes you dream about it, and it feels so real that you almost start to think "this is the bad dream" but that is your reality.

But you don’t have 9 lives, you only have one.

This one.

So I guess you will pass it sneaking around, always close but never close enough, always fearing the consequences of being loved by someone who isn’t supposed to love you back,

You only had one life, this one, but you like to think that the universe couldn’t be cruel enough to not allow you and Wally a happy ending in at least one.

You only had one life and you would spend it praying for another one.

Hope you liked it 💗 If you prefer to be a happy ending, you could just imagine like the 8th life was the current life 😽alte

Remeber that if you wanna get tagged everytime I post something, go to my pinned post>taglist>chose the fandom you want to get tagged in!

25 notes · View notes

coolfireguy73 · 3 days ago

Text

Hello everyone, I'm... back ?

For anyone that may interest, it's me AG. You probably forgot about me.

Hi !

First of all I wanted to apologies. I don't didn't have that huge of a following but for the few people that followed my stuff and liked my AUs, I'm sorry I have essentially disappeared.

I have a few things to say about why I did and I will announce something regarding the Child mercs AU at the end of this.

So if you are not interested in anything else you can skip to "It brings us to today" further down.

For everyone else (not many I assume):

When I discover something new, a new game, a new anime or whatever, I may hyperfixate on it. I'll only talk about it, I'll only draw fanarts of it etc... Like TF2, this was one of my hyperfixation.

I say was because , for some reason, I can only hyperfixate on one fandom at a time. I can have a lot of things I like and care a lot for, but when it comes to the things that dictates my life and art (Like TF2 did) I can only have one.

I don't know why, I've always been like this and I kinda hate it at times.

Anyway, like you may have seen from my last posts, before leaving I fell into the JJBA fandom.

This was (and still is) my new hyperfixation.

I could literally feel it replace TF2 in my mind. And I hated it.

I still love TF2 dearly, but it had been... "replaced" in a way.

I had a lot of unfinished projet I knew a would have a harder time finishing because I had moved on to something else.

I tried to continu the comic twice. And both time the file got deleted.

I lost what little will I had to continue it.

An I'm sad about it. I hate it when I get invested in something that's unfinished. And I said multiple times that I would finish it ! That and the Cryptid AU.

But I never did.

It brings us to today:

I wanted to do this for a while and with the final entry of the TF2 comics finally out I figured now was a good time.

Even though I want to, I don't know when or even IF I'm going to finish drawing the comics.

THAT SAID, though the drawings aren't finished, the story, the description of what would have been on every page is !

It's been since before I started drawing it.

And I thought I could do something with it.

I can publish the last pages of the Child mercs comic in written form. Every drawing described and with the dialogue that should have accompanied it.

You'll essentially have the entire story, just, without the little drawings.

But only if you still care about it. And I know some of you did and even if only one of you want it, I'll do it.

It won't be the version I wanted, with my drawings, but if I never make them, at least you can enjoy the end of the story. And I'd hate to keep that from you forever.

Again I'm sorry for leaving, I figured you wouldn't want to see Jojo Fanart when I hadn't even finished my TF2 projects.

I'm still very grateful for all the nice comments I received, and maybe one day I'll come back with a few TF2 drawings to show you :)

P.S.: I never had a written thing for the Cryptid AU, I kinda want to rewrite it entirely but I'm working on another project. Though it's nearing completion so maybe I'll have time.

I mainly wanted to say, though I didn't have any idea where the story was heading, I did have an idea why they all became cryptids so if you want to hear about it too. Let me know.

Anyway, have a good one everyone.

And thanks for everything :)

-AG

#tf2 #cryprid au #child mercs #i'm sorry #but I still love all of you

30 notes · View notes

rewritingtales · 2 hours ago

Text

"careful what you wish for. if a big enough group bands together, you might have some actual trouble on your hands. not that you're going around seeking trouble, but if i was a part of a trio of brothers that you attacked i might be cooking something up." if the brothers come knocking on his door, he'll actually tell them to leave him alone. no zeke meant no help for rory. the old man certaintly doesn't know how to raise or help a young wolf all by his lonesome.

he needs zeke.

vilem tilts his head as he thinks about it. on one hand, it's unfair because he has all of the knowledge that he's gained years later. on the other hand, he remembers being really aroused by the wolf and that beating out any other sense of logic. if he had told him in the heat of the moment, during foreplay, perhaps he wouldn't have cared too much. once his dick is hard he needs to release somehow. whether it's in a monster or human. the weakness of being human! “we'll never know. i never got the chance to react to it until after we had already, well, you know. there's no use in revisiting that anyway. maybe i would've just fucked you harder since i know that you can handle it.” he chuckles softly, a snort slipping through his lips but being quieted as much as possible. zeke's right, it shouldn't matter. still, the farmer has his faults just like everyone else. “but it does.” he nods a bit, not wanting to get in between the man and his respect. “do you ever think there's going to be another, at least in these parts? maybe someone you turn is going to be even bigger and badder than you are.” although he's really not interested in being around long enough to see that, he still ponders that every now and then. “do you want me to comb my fingers through your hair while i lay you down on a couple of blankets?” again, another half joke. apparently, since vilem can't talk to the animals nor the crops his part is quite easy. as much as he can see, they're all alright, so he just cuts down some of the ones that are good for picking. there's some evening primrose, tobacco leaves, night phlox, and moonflower that smell just good enough to pick. the farmer puts them all in the basket before moving over to the fruits and vegetables. some corn, broccoli, tomatoes, strawberries, grapes, and peaches are also ready. he brings the basket back and notices that zeke is all wrapped up too. “if you think i'm picky and needy, you haven't seen the half of it yet on the farm. i'm done with the crops though.” vilem leans the basket over, showing it to zeke. “thank you for your help. do you want me to make a little basket for you?” does a wolf even eat fruit or vegetables? “you can just wait here for rory. it's getting late.”

"my victims can try." there ...weren't many alive, maybe even less than he imagined given that knights, hunters & woodsmen were out for their hides. he may be able to protect little rory, but he couldn't protect them all. protecting anybody wasn't his job either. nobody protected him, so why should he? he'd lived a-many years in this forest to work his way to the top; he wasn't always the big bad wolf. once upon a time he was the tiny bad wolf puppy & that little puppy got hurt, so it learned to adapt to be one step ahead of everybody else (humans).

zeke doesn't trust humans.

or anybody really.

he never did, but every time he went one step closer to opening up to the idea to try, someone cut him & he pulled away further than before. he also didn't believe humans, including vilem telling him he'd have been fine knowing what zeke was back then. fucking lie. he still hated his kind despite a loved one being pretty much the same thing, so years ago? zeke would've been kicked out on his ass with arrows in it before he could say moon. not that it mattered much now, especially because zeke didn't regret it. well, the not-telling. the hooking up he definitely regretted. big time. "i don't believe you. easy to say now, but you chased me out like i ate your dog's puppies." zeke would've been on his way home before he took off his shirt. nah. he'd done the right thing. "besides, shouldn't matter what i am." because what he was didn't change anything about what they did. eh no use in crying over spilt milk. "i earned the title and the rest respect. or fear. i deserve to be smug about it." he knew he was different from most & if you asked him, that was a good thing. he was sure there were things out there able to best him - maybe even easily so, but until these being came knocking down his door, he pretended like there weren't. "comfortable, huh? who makes sure i'm comfy enough to sleep?" zeke huffed, eyeing the other shortly before trotting off with the bag of food to do as told & promised. feeding them was easy, but the comfortable part? he wondered how vilem did that daily. the wolf made sure to ask everybody if they were comfortable enough; most were, but some had very special needs & wants. one sheep wanted to cuddle, one of the cows demanded a bedtime story, two of the chickens wanted their bellies scratched. he'd never regretted being able to speak to animals before today. when everybody's wishes were fulfilled, he returned to the house, empty food bag with him. he stifled a little yawn when the other joined him, "thought i'd be a lot faster than you, but your animals have wants. you all done? need any help with the crops?"

#wulfdreaded #c: ezekiel #↷ vilem ꒰ interactions ꒱

60 notes · View notes

butterfly-lies-chase-them-away · 2 days ago

Text

Bunny - Health Ledger!Joker x Fem!Reader

(Part 4)

Pairing: Joker x Fem!Reader

Joker x Reader with Anxiety

Word Count: 9892

Warnings: Joker, lol

Summary: Poor Y/n let herself go while Joker was locked up, now she's sick and Joker's goons have to look after her

A/N: Took a while to get this one out (shocking) but got it done! a bit on the shorter side of my other fics, but I didn't really have much for this part, it's more of a little fun one

(Laptop was playing up again, so had to post from my phone, will fix later)

Hope you enjoy this part 💚

It had been an agonising week without Joker. Normally, this wouldn't have been a cause for concern, disappearing for stretches of time was just something he did. But this time was different. This time, she knew he was in trouble, and the weight of that knowledge pressed down on her like a vice. Her anxiety, already a constant companion, had become an unbearable storm of worry and dread.

The news outlets seized every opportunity to cover the story of Joker being locked up, using every scrap of information. While the police remained tight-lipped, determined to withhold key details, the public had ways of uncovering the truth.

Grainy cell phone footage of Joker in a shitty holding cell circulated online, and rumours spread like wildfire. Everyone seemed to have an opinion, their voices merging into a deafening roar that only added to Y/n’s unease.

Every time she passed a television or scrolled through her phone, there it was, his face plastered across the screen. Headlines blared about his arrest, speculating on his motives, his crimes, and what the authorities planned to do with him. Each broadcast felt like a punch to the gut, a painful reminder that he was out there, caged, while she was here, powerless to do anything about it.

She was surprised to see that his makeup was still intact. Whether the authorities hadn’t bothered to remove it or had tried and failed, it didn’t matter. His face remained as she remembered it, boldly painted and defiant, other than little empty patches here and there. Oddly enough, it brought her a small sense of comfort, a reminder that even in their custody, he was still him.

She couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. Her mind replayed their last moments together over and over, dissecting every detail, searching for some sign, anything, that he had a plan to get out of this. Because he always had a plan…didn’t he?

Y/n paced her small apartment, her nails chewed down to the quick, her phone clutched tightly in her hand. She considered calling someone, Rocco, maybe, but what would she say? Who could she trust? And even if she found someone to talk to, what could they do?

The uncertainty gnawed at her. Joker’s absence wasn’t just a void in her life, it was a ticking time bomb, and she was terrified of what might happen when it finally exploded.

The days dragged on, blurring together as Y/n confined herself to her room. She couldn’t bring herself to do much of anything. Her appetite was nonexistent, and the thought of eating made her stomach churn. The only thing she consumed was water, and even that was more out of necessity than care.

The once-cozy space she called home felt suffocating, the walls seeming to close in on her. Her bed became her constant companion, the blankets pulled around her like armour against the world outside. She hadn’t bothered to tidy up or even open the curtains. The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of her phone screen.

Her reflection in the mirror told a story of exhaustion, dark circles under her eyes, her skin pale and dull. She felt as though the weight of her worry for Joker had physically anchored her to the bed.

She didn’t want to see anyone. Avoiding her friends, ignoring texts, and letting her phone calls go unanswered, she kept herself isolated. Leaving her room felt pointless when her mind was consumed by thoughts of him.

Her chest tightened every time the news flickered on in her head, imagining the cold, sterile cell he was probably in. It was a mental loop she couldn’t break out of, and it left her drained.

Y/n’s neglect of herself was becoming painfully obvious, the toll on her body undeniable. Her once-vibrant complexion had turned discoloured and lifeless, dark shadows lingering beneath her hollow eyes. Her cheekbones were more pronounced, the lack of proper nourishment leaving her looking gaunt and fragile.

Her energy levels had plummeted. Even simple tasks like standing up or walking across the room left her feeling lightheaded and weak. Her muscles ached from lying in bed for so long, and her legs felt shaky when she did manage to pull herself up.

The dehydration was catching up with her, despite the water she drank. Her lips were cracked, her skin dry and rough to the touch. Her hair hung limp and dull, reflecting the lifelessness she felt inside.

Her immune system stretched thin from stress and lack of sustenance, left her vulnerable to every chill in the air. She must have developed a slight fever that she didn’t have the strength to care about, brushing off the sweat on her brow as just another inconvenience.

Y/n’s body was screaming for help, yet her mind remained fixated on Joker. It was as if she’d become a shadow of herself, physically and mentally drained, all because the one person she cared about most was out of her reach.

Y/n lay sprawled on her bed, her body heavy with exhaustion. Her arms felt like lead, barely able to reach the half-empty water bottle sitting on her bedside table. Her fingers brushed against it weakly, but even the small effort was too much. She let out a soft, defeated sigh, her dry lips barely parting.

Her gaze, blurred and unfocused, was fixed on the ceiling when the creak of her door made her heart skip. She thought it was just another trick of her mind, her exhaustion had caused her to hallucinate sounds before. But this time, shadows fell across the dim room, and she slowly turned her head.

Her vision was too poor to make out details, the figures were just dark blurs against the soft glow of the hallway light. Panic fluttered in her chest. Was she dreaming? Or had her mind finally cracked? She blinked hard, trying to clear her sight, but the figures remained.

Then one of them stepped closer, and a familiar, gravelly voice filled the room. “Boss sent us,” Rocco said simply, his tone gruff yet somehow grounding.

Y/n’s breath hitched. It wasn’t a hallucination. These were real people, they were in her room. She managed to push herself up on trembling arms, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. How had they gotten in? The door was locked...wasn’t it? How fucking shit was this dorm’s security?

Her bleary eyes darted to the second figure, standing just behind Rocco. She didn’t recognise him, this one was new. He stayed silent, his broad frame looming in the doorway, while Rocco stepped closer.

“Damn, kid,” Rocco muttered, his voice softer now as he looked her over. “You look like hell.”

Y/n didn’t respond, her throat dry and her mind too foggy to form words. All she could do was stare at them, trying to process what was happening.

The realization hit her like a jolt. Joker. Was he okay? Did he send them to check on her? Did this mean… he was still out there? Her hands gripped the sheets beneath her tightly, desperate for answers, but too weak to demand them.

Rocco stepped closer, crouching down so his face was level with hers. His sharp features softened slightly as he took in her dishevelled state. “You’re not taking care of yourself,” he muttered, a mix of irritation and concern in his voice. “Boss wouldn’t like this. He sent us here to make sure you’re still kickin’.”

Y/n blinked slowly, her head swimming with questions, but the mention of Joker made her heart clench. Her lips moved, though no sound came out at first. She swallowed hard, wincing at the dryness in her throat before croaking, “Joker...?”

The second man, the one she didn’t recognise, stepped forward now, his arms crossed. His gaze flicked over her like he was assessing her condition. “He’s fine,” the man said curtly. “But he’s got…other things to handle right now.”

Rocco shot the man a look, clearly annoyed by his lack of tact. “What he means,” Rocco said, his tone more measured, “is that the Boss can’t exactly walk through your front door right now. So, he sent us. He wanted us to check in, make sure you’re okay, and…” He hesitated, glancing back at the other man before sighing. “...and make sure you get back on your feet.”

Y/n felt a rush of emotions, relief that Joker was alive, frustration at her own helplessness, and confusion about why these two were standing in her room like they belonged there. “How…how did you get in?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Rocco smirked faintly. “Lock wasn’t much of a challenge,” he said, jerking a thumb at the other man. “Frankie here’s got a knack for getting through doors. Don’t worry, though. We’re not here to cause trouble.”

Frankie, so that was the name of the stranger, gave a curt nod but said nothing. His presence felt imposing, but he didn’t seem hostile.

Y/n tried to sit up straighter, her body protesting with every movement. Her head swam as she forced out another question. “Why…why did he send you?”

Rocco reached over to the bedside table, grabbed her water bottle and handed it to her. “Boss cares about you, kid,” he said, his voice a little softer now. “More than you probably realise. He doesn’t like the idea of you wasting away while he’s out there handling business. Said if you don’t start taking care of yourself, he’ll have to come sort you out himself. And trust me, you don’t want that.”

Y/n took the bottle with shaky hands, her eyes wide as she processed his words. The thought of Joker sending these two to check on her, even while he was dealing with his own problems, made her chest tighten. He cared. In his own chaotic, unpredictable way, he cared.

Rocco stood up, brushing off his knees. “We’re here to help, alright? Whether you like it or not. So, drink up and get moving. Boss wouldn’t want you like this.”

Y/n hesitated, then took a small sip of the water. It was lukewarm and tasted metallic, but it was the first thing she’d managed to drink properly in days. She nodded faintly, her voice still weak but determined. “Okay.”

Rocco’s patience quickly wore thin as he watched Y/n take another feeble sip of water and sink back into the mattress. “Alright, that’s it,” he said firmly, straightening up and rolling his shoulders like he was preparing for a task he didn’t particularly enjoy. “You’re coming with us. Boss’s orders.”

Y/n’s eyes widened, panic flickering in them. “What? I can’t–” she stammered, but before she could finish, Rocco leaned down and grabbed her arm gently but insistently.

“You don’t get a say in this, sweetheart,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Boss wants you outta this bed, and that’s what’s happening.”

The other man, Frankie, sighed and moved to the other side of the bed, his expression unreadable but his stance ready to assist. “She’s not exactly in any condition to walk on her own,” he muttered.

“I can tell,” Rocco replied sharply. “That’s why we’re here. Now, up you go.” He pulled her up to a sitting position with surprising care, though his grip was unyielding. Y/n groaned, the motion making her head spin and her stomach churn.

“I can’t…” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I can’t even stand.”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Rocco said as if it were the simplest solution in the world. “But you’re not staying here, wasting away. Boss ’ll have my head if we leave you like this.”

Y/n tried to protest, but before she could, Frankie slipped an arm under her knees and another around her back, lifting her effortlessly out of the bed. She gasped in surprise, her body trembling from the sudden movement.

“Don’t drop me!” she cried weakly, her hands clutching at his shirt.

Frankie scoffed. “Relax.”

Rocco opened the door, stepping out first to make sure the coast was clear. “Move it, Frankie. Let’s get her to the van.”

Frankie carried her out of the room, his movements steady but brisk. The cool air in the hallway hit her like a slap, and her already fragile state made it hard to keep her eyes open. Her head lolled against Frankie’s shoulder as they made their way outside.

The van was parked at the curb, its engine idling softly. Rocco opened the back door, gesturing for Frankie to set her down. “Easy now,” he said, his tone surprisingly soft.

Frankie carefully eased Y/n into the van’s backseat, her body slumping against the upholstery. Rocco climbed in beside her, positioning her so she wouldn’t slide around during the ride. He reached over to buckle her seatbelt, muttering, “Don’t even think about trying to wiggle out of this. Boss ’ll hear about it.”

Y/n didn’t have the energy to argue. Her head rested against the window, her body aching and weak, but somewhere deep down, a flicker of curiosity sparked through the haze of exhaustion. Where was she being taken?

The van rumbled to a stop in a dimly lit alleyway, the oppressive gloom of the Narrows seeping in through the windows. Y/n barely stirred, her frail body sagging against the seatbelt. Rocco turned to glance at her, his expression somewhere between irritation and concern.

“We’re here,” he muttered, unbuckling his seatbelt. Frankie was already out of the van, opening the back door and reaching in to unbuckle Y/n.

“C’mon, girl,” Frankie said, his tone gruff but not unkind. “Boss wouldn’t want you sitting out here all night.”

Y/n blinked slowly, her vision still a blur. She didn’t have the strength to protest as Frankie once again lifted her, cradling her like she weighed nothing. The cold night air nipped at her skin as they exited the van.

The building in front of them was dilapidated, its bricks cracked and stained, with faint graffiti scrawled across the lower walls. The windows glowed faintly from inside, casting eerie shadows onto the narrow street.

“An apartment?” Y/n mumbled weakly, her voice barely audible.

“Temporary safe house,” Rocco said curtly, leading the way to the door. “Boss’s orders.”

Frankie adjusted his hold on her as they climbed a narrow, creaking staircase that felt like it might give way at any moment. Y/n groaned softly, her head lolling against Frankie’s chest. The exhaustion in her body made the journey feel endless, each step rattling through her fragile frame.

On the third floor, Rocco stopped in front of a battered door with peeling paint. He fished out a key, unlocking it with a click before pushing it open. The apartment inside was sparse but clean enough, furnished with the basics, a couch, a small table, a kitchenette, and a bed tucked into the corner of the single room.

Frankie carried Y/n inside, laying her carefully on the couch. She let out a faint sigh of relief as her body sank into the mattress, her muscles aching from the short journey. Rocco lingered near the door, crossing his arms as he surveyed the room.

“Not exactly five-star,” Rocco said, his voice tinged with sarcasm. “But it’ll do.”

“Boss said to keep her here and make sure she eats something,” Frankie said, stepping back and stretching his arms. “She looks like she’s about to keel over.”

“Yeah, well, she’s been like that for days, hasn’t she?” Rocco grumbled. “I’ll have a look. Can’t let her starve.”

As Y/n lay on the couch, barely able to keep her eyes open, a thought began to gnaw at the back of her mind. She hadn’t fully processed it before, but now, with Rocco and Frankie’s casual conversation, it became clear.

They were talking about him, Joker, like he was still calling the shots, like he was still in control, even though he was locked up and under 24/7 security. Her heart skipped a beat, a mixture of confusion and curiosity flooding her veins.

The implications of it all settled in her chest, heavy and unsettling. How were they in contact with him? Was he somehow orchestrating everything from behind bars? Was he pulling the strings while locked away, unable to move?

She tried to sit up, her body protesting the movement as if the world around her was spinning. The dizziness from the exertion made her head throb. She let out a shaky breath, trying to focus as she reached for the water bottle beside her. Her fingers trembled as she unscrewed the cap, the cold liquid soothing her parched throat. But the question remained.

How is he still in control? she thought, her mind racing. She hadn’t heard anything about Joker’s escape, nor did it make sense that he could have any influence from inside a high-security facility. So how? How were his goons able to move so freely?

She glanced over at Frankie and Rocco. They didn’t seem concerned, almost like it was business as usual. Rocco was leaning against the wall, checking his phone, and Frankie was off to the side, inspecting the small kitchenette. Neither of them gave any indication that they were afraid or worried about Joker's imprisonment.

Y/n felt a pit in her stomach. Was he that powerful, even locked up? She didn’t know what to believe anymore. The whole situation felt surreal like being stuck in a bad dream.

“He’s always had a plan,” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. "He always has a way."

The weight of the situation settled deeper into her chest as she realized that Joker was always three steps ahead. Even now, even when everything seemed to be falling apart, Joker had found a way to keep his reach, his control, intact.

But how much longer could he stay in control from inside a cell? How much longer before something broke? Before she broke?

She closed her eyes, trying to push the fear away, but it lingered. It always did when it came to him.

Rocco reappeared from the kitchen, holding a paper bag that crinkled loudly as he walked toward her. He tossed it onto the table with a heavy thud, then turned back to the cabinets, muttering something to Frankie under his breath. Frankie came over to the couch and crouched in front of Y/n, his gruff face softening just a bit.

“You need to eat, girl. You’re lookin’ worse than a dead man,” he said, pulling out a plastic-wrapped sandwich and a juice box from the bag.

Y/n blinked at the items as if they were foreign. It had been days since she’d eaten anything substantial, and the idea of food felt distant, almost abstract. Still, Frankie didn’t give her much choice.

“Come on,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. He unwrapped the sandwich for her and held it out. “A few bites, at least. You’re no good to anyone like this.”

Her stomach churned at the thought, but she nodded weakly. With trembling hands, she took the sandwich from him and managed a small bite. The dry bread felt foreign against her tongue, and the first swallow was like pushing a rock down her throat. But then the second bite came easier, and the third after that.

Rocco turned back around, leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee in his hand. “Gotta admit, didn’t expect you to be this far gone,” he said bluntly.

Frankie shot him a warning glare, but Rocco shrugged. “What? She looks like she’s been through hell.”

“She’s been through enough,” Frankie snapped, his voice lower this time. “Just shut up and let her eat.”

Y/n barely registered the exchange, too focused on the sandwich and the juice box that Frankie had handed her. The sweetness of the juice was a shock to her system, waking her up a little more as it soothed her dry throat.

“Better?” Frankie asked after a moment.

Y/n nodded faintly. “Thanks,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

“Good,” Rocco said, moving closer to the couch. He placed a bottle of water on the table beside her.

“You’ll need your strength. Don’t know what’s comin’ next, but Boss wouldn’t be happy seeing you like this.” Hearing that sent a pang through her chest. Joker.

Even when he wasn’t there, his shadow loomed large, dictating their actions. And here he was, using that power for her. Joker’s influence reached her even now, in her lowest state, orchestrating everything from behind the scenes. As unsettling as it was, a small part of her, a part she didn’t fully understand, felt comforted by it.

Y/n lay curled up on the worn couch, her body trembling despite the cheap oil heater buzzing weakly beside her. The warmth it offered was pitiful, barely taking the edge off the icy chill that had settled into her bones. Her skin felt clammy, her breaths uneven, and her forehead was hot to the touch. She was clearly feverish, and even in her half-conscious state, she could feel how badly her body was struggling to fight off the fatigue.

Frankie paced back and forth, running a hand through his greying hair. “She’s shivering like a damn leaf,” he muttered, glancing nervously at Rocco. “What the hell are we supposed to do? I don’t know nothin’ about takin’ care of a sick person!”

Rocco sat slumped in a chair at the dining table, his arms crossed. “What do I look like, a nurse?” he snapped, his frustration barely contained.

He glanced over at Y/n, her frail form looking smaller than ever under the thin blanket draped over her. He let out a long sigh and stood. “Alright, let’s think. Fever, right? You’re supposed to–uh–what? Cool her down? Or warm her up?”

Frankie rolled his eyes. “Both? Neither? Hell if I know! You think I went to med school?” He rubbed at his face, muttering under his breath, “Boss didn’t say nothin’ about this kind of situation.”

Rocco grumbled and approached the couch, peering down at Y/n like she was some fragile, alien creature.

“She’s shakin’ like crazy,” he said, pulling the blanket tighter around her. “What if we just...I dunno...get more blankets? Or turn the heater up?”

He leaned down and gave the old oil heater a hard smack, but it didn’t do much besides rattle noisily. “Piece of shit,” he muttered.

“More blankets?” Frankie echoed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah, great plan, genius. You wanna bury her in a mountain of old fabric and hope for the best? Real top-tier care there, Dr. Rocco.”

He shook his head and started rummaging through the cabinets, clearly searching for something that might help. “Maybe there’s medicine or some kinda first aid kit around here,” he said, opening drawers with loud thuds.

Rocco scowled but didn’t argue. Instead, he grabbed a glass, filled it with water from the sink, and brought it back to the couch. He crouched down beside Y/n, nudging her shoulder gently.

“Hey, girl,” he said awkwardly, his gruffness giving way to something softer. “You gotta drink some water. Can’t let you keel over on us, alright?”

Y/n groaned faintly, her eyes fluttering open just enough to see Rocco’s concerned face hovering above her. “Can’t...move,” she mumbled, her voice weak and barely audible.

Frankie returned, holding up a bottle of aspirin triumphantly. “Found somethin’! Says it’s for fevers,” he declared.

Then he frowned, looking at the label. “Uh...how much do you give someone? One pill? Two?”

“Well, what does the box say?” Rocco grunted.

“I don’t know, the instructions have been worn off,” Frankie said, squinting at the box.

“Just give her one to start. We don’t need to knock her out cold.” He turned back to Y/n and gently pressed the glass to her lips. “Come on, drink,” he coaxed. “It’s just water.”

With effort, Y/n managed a small sip, though most of the water dribbled down her chin. Frankie handed over the aspirin, and Rocco awkwardly placed it in her mouth, tipping the glass again to help her swallow.

When she finally did, Frankie let out a relieved sigh. “Okay, good. That’s somethin’, at least.”

But the two men were clearly out of their depth, and it showed. They stood by the couch like sentries, unsure of their next move.

Frankie scratched his head, mumbling, “We need someone who actually knows what the hell they’re doin’. This ain’t our thing, man.”

Rocco nodded, his usual bravado replaced with a rare flicker of worry. “Yeah, well, until then, we keep her alive. Boss would kill us if somethin’ happened to her.”

He glanced at Y/n, who had already slipped back into a restless sleep. Her shivering continued, even with their clumsy attempts to help. “We gotta figure this out,” he muttered.

Y/n stirred on the couch, her face scrunched up. Frankie, who had been pacing near the window, noticed immediately and groaned.

“Now what?” he asked, throwing his hands in the air.

Y/n grimaced again, her lips twisting in discomfort. “That aspirin…” she murmured, her voice hoarse. “Tasted...weird. Like...really weird.” She made a faint gagging noise and stuck out her tongue, clearly unhappy with whatever lingering aftertaste it left behind.

Frankie narrowed his eyes and turned to Rocco, who was leaning against the wall. “What the hell does she mean, ‘tasted weird’? You gave her somethin’ bad?”

Rocco straightened up, looking offended. “I didn’t make the damn pills, Frankie! I just gave her what you found!”

Frankie stomped over to the kitchen counter where the small box of aspirin sat. Snatching it up, he squinted at the faded label.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” he muttered. “This thing’s...expired! Look at this! Says it went bad two years ago!” He turned the box toward Rocco, jabbing at the tiny print with his finger.

Rocco groaned, running a hand down his face. “You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me,” he muttered. “Who keeps expired meds in their place? Like, throw it out already!”

“Apparently these guys don’t care about restocking the essentials,” Frankie shot back. He threw the box onto the counter with a loud thud. “And now we probably poisoned her on top of everything else!”

“Relax, Frankie,” Rocco said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced himself. “What’s the worst expired aspirin can do? Lose some of its kick? She ain’t foamin’ at the mouth or anything, is she?”

Y/n, still curled on the couch, managed a weak glare at the two men. “You guys…are terrible at this,” she mumbled.

Frankie sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah, we get it. We suck at playin’ nursemaids. But cut us some slack, huh? This ain’t exactly what we signed up for when joining Joker’s gang.”

Rocco shook his head, muttering under his breath. “Great. Boss is gonna love hearin’ we gave his girl bad pills. Just perfect.”

Y/n, too tired to engage further, closed her eyes and tried to ignore the bitter taste still lingering in her mouth.

Frankie and Rocco exchanged an exasperated look before Frankie finally grumbled, “Alright, that’s it. No more meds until we double-check this crap. I ain’t takin’ any more chances.”

“Gee, why didn’t I think of that,” Rocco muttered, though the jab lacked its usual bite.

Frankie and Rocco stood awkwardly around Y/n, who had drifted back into an uneasy rest on the couch.

Frankie pulled out his phone, scrolling rapidly. “Alright, lemme just Google this fever crap. Can’t be that hard, right?”

Rocco leaned over his shoulder, squinting at the screen. “What’s it say?”

“Uh…” Frankie squinted, reading aloud. “‘Keep them hydrated, plenty of water.’” He gestured at the half-empty glass on the coffee table. “Nailed that one already.”

“Barely,” Rocco muttered, rolling his eyes.

Frankie ignored him and kept reading. “‘Medications to reduce fever.’” He immediately grimaced and shoved his phone in his pocket. “Yeah, no. We ain’t doin’ that shit again.”

“Definitely not,” Rocco agreed, glaring briefly at the expired aspirin box still sitting on the counter.

Frankie pulled his phone back out, tapping on a new link. “Okay, here’s a blog post...‘hot soups help.’ See? We’re getting somewhere!”

Rocco folded his arms, unimpressed. “Hot soup, huh? What’re we supposed to do, whip that up in this dump?”

Frankie snapped his fingers. “Hold up! I saw some canned soup in the cupboard earlier. Gimme a second.”

He shuffled into the kitchen, rummaging through a cabinet, and emerged triumphantly holding a dusty can of chicken noodle soup. “Jackpot!”

Rocco pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Frankie, that thing looks older than the aspirin. You’re not feeding her that.”

“It’s soup! It’s basically immortal,” Frankie argued, waving the can around.

“No,” Rocco said firmly. “You’re not risking Boss’s girl on canned science experiments. Get your ass to the store and buy her some fresh stuff.”

Frankie groaned. “Man, come on! The store’s, like, five blocks away!”

“And?” Rocco crossed his arms, his glare cutting. “Go. And don’t come back with anything cheap.”

Muttering under his breath, Frankie grabbed his coat and stormed toward the door. “This is ridiculous. First a nurse, now a delivery guy. What’s next, a fuckin’ florist?”

Rocco just waved him off, turning back to check on Y/n as Frankie disappeared into the hallway.

Rocco sat down heavily on the chair opposite Y/n, watching her shiver even under the blanket draped over her.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back soon,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

Y/n stirred slightly, cracking her eyes open. She looked at him, her expression groggy and confused.

“Where’d he go?” she croaked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rocco leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Frankie’s gone to grab you some real food. Something to help with the fever.”

Y/n gave a weak nod, closing her eyes again. “Thanks…” The room fell silent except for the faint hum of the oil heater struggling to warm the space.

Rocco glanced at it, frowning. “Piece of junk,” he muttered, standing up to adjust the settings. When it didn’t do much, he huffed in frustration.

The door creaked open quietly, and Frankie slipped inside, juggling several heavy grocery bags. Y/n was finally asleep on the couch, bundled up in blankets. Rocco, who had been sitting nearby and keeping watch, stood up and stalked over, his brows furrowed at the sight of the bulging bags.

“What the hell is all this shit?” Rocco hissed, gesturing toward the bags as he took a couple to lighten the load.

Frankie scowled, kicking the door shut behind him. “I don’t know, man. I went to grab some canned soup like you said, but some old lady saw me standing there and decided to get involved.”

Rocco raised a brow. “What do you mean, ‘got involved’?”

Frankie set the bags down on the counter with a grunt. “She started giving me a lecture about how canned soup isn’t good enough for someone sick, then walked me around the store grabbing vegetables and spices and crap. Kept saying, ‘Make her a proper soup.’ I don’t even know what the hell that means!”

Rocco stared at him, then at the bags now spilling over with carrots, celery, onions, and random herbs. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh. “You mean to tell me, instead of just heating up a can, we now gotta make soup from scratch?”

Frankie shrugged helplessly. “Apparently. Look, she was scary, okay? You try saying no to someone’s grandma when she’s lecturing you in the middle of the store.”

Rocco jaw hung open, looking at Frankie. “You have a gun..you’re 6 foot fucking something…and some little old lady scared you into making soup..”

“Hey man, I ain’t never gon’ mess with an old lady…besides, she had a heart of gold,” Frankie pouted, looking absolutely ridiculous.

Rocco muttered a string of curses under his breath as he started unpacking the bags. “Great. Just great. Now we’re chefs.”

“Hey, you’re the one who said to get her the good stuff,” Frankie shot back, grabbing a knife and a cutting board. “Guess this is what the good stuff looks like.”

Rocco glared at the pile of ingredients like it had personally offended him. “Fine. Let’s get this over with. But if you screw this up, you’re eating it.”

Together, they fumbled their way through prepping the vegetables, with a hastily Googled recipe on Frankie’s phone that neither of them could agree on.

“This one says dice the carrots, but what the hell is a dice? Like cubes?” Frankie squinted at the screen.

“Cubes? What are we, making toys? Just chop the damn things,” Rocco shot back, already wielding a knife like it was a weapon. He hacked at an onion, the uneven pieces scattering across the cutting board.

Frankie grabbed a stalk of celery, holding it whole above the pot. “Do you think we can just throw these in as is? I mean, they’ll, like…dissolve, right?”

Rocco stared at him in horror and swatted the celery out of his hands. “What the hell are you doing? You can’t just chuck that in like a log! Cut it into pieces!”

“Okay, okay, relax,” Frankie grumbled, fumbling for the knife and hacking at the celery with no regard for uniformity.

Rocco groaned, snatching the knife from him. “That’s not cutting, that’s mangling. You’re lucky she’s too sick to care what this looks like.”

It took twice as long as it should have, with constant interruptions of “Is this small enough?” and “Are you sure that goes in the pot?”

Eventually, they managed to get all the vegetables chopped into vaguely even pieces. By the time they added everything to the pot, they were both sweating and grumbling.

Frankie stirred the mixture triumphantly. “Alright, that wasn’t so bad.”

Rocco glanced over his shoulder at the recipe still open on the phone. His face fell. “You idiot. Did you even read the part where it says this has to simmer for two hours?”

Frankie froze, spoon in hand. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Two hours. Minimum.” Rocco threw his hands in the air. “We’re gonna be here all night.”

Frankie groaned, slumping against the counter. “How does anyone have the patience for this? I should’ve just stuck with the canned stuff.”

“Yeah, but now we’re committed,” Rocco grumbled, crossing his arms.

He eyed the bubbling pot, already dreading the wait. Despite their frustrations, neither of them said it out loud, but they both felt a little satisfaction in knowing they’d gone the extra mile. After all, they weren’t doing this for themselves.

The soup had finally been left to simmer, and the two men sat at the small table in the corner of the apartment, exhausted from their makeshift cooking adventure. Rocco had his arms crossed, leaning back in the chair, while Frankie tapped his fingers against the table impatiently.

“How long’s it been?” Frankie asked.

“Fifteen minutes.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Nope.”

Frankie groaned and leaned forward, resting his head on the table. “We should’ve just bought one of those instant soups. Heat it, serve it, done. Why did I listen to some random old lady?”

Rocco shot him a look. “Because you don’t have a spine, Frankie.”

The soft sound of mumbling caught their attention, and they both turned toward the couch. Y/n was stirring, her eyes fluttering open briefly before closing again. She shifted slightly, curling up tighter under the blanket.

“Think she’s gonna wake up?” Frankie whispered.

“Not if we’re lucky,” Rocco replied, though his gaze lingered on her pale face, still marked with exhaustion.

A faint bubbling noise came from the kitchen, and Frankie bolted up. “Crap, is it boiling over?”

They rushed to the pot like a couple of amateur chefs, Frankie grabbing the spoon to stir while Rocco adjusted the heat.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Rocco muttered, glaring at the pot as if daring it to betray them.

Frankie stirred a few more times before stepping back, looking genuinely relieved. “Okay, I think we’ve got it under control. Now what?”

“Now we wait. Again,” Rocco said, rubbing his face. He glanced toward the couch. “She’s still out, so at least we don’t have to explain why the kitchen smells like…well…that.”

“Yeah yeah,” Frankie muttered, leaning against the counter.

The hours dragged on as the soup slowly came together. They took turns checking the pot and whispering arguments about whether it needed more salt or if the vegetables were soft enough. It wasn’t exactly gourmet cooking, but by the time the two hours were up, the apartment smelled surprisingly good.

Frankie grabbed a spoon and tasted it, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Hey, it’s…not bad. I mean, it’s edible.”

“Edible isn’t exactly a ringing endorsement,” Rocco muttered, but he grabbed a spoon and took a taste as well.

He frowned, then nodded reluctantly. “Alright, it’s decent. Let’s see if she can actually eat it.”

They carefully ladled the soup into a bowl, Rocco holding it steady while Frankie grabbed a spoon. As they approached Y/n, still curled up on the couch, Frankie nudged her shoulder gently.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Wake up, we’ve got something for you.”

Y/n stirred, her tired eyes blinking open. She looked up at them groggily, her voice barely above a whisper. “What…is it?”

“Homemade soup,” Rocco said, setting the bowl on the small table next to her. “Don’t ask how we made it, just eat it.”

Y/n stared at the bowl suspiciously, then looked up at them. “You made this?”

“Yeah, and it took forever, so you better appreciate it,” Frankie grumbled, but there was a hint of pride in his voice.

With their help, she sat up slowly and took the bowl into her hands. The warmth of the soup felt comforting, and as she took a small sip, her eyes widened slightly. “It’s…good.”

Rocco and Frankie exchanged a look, both pretending to shrug it off, but the relief on their faces was unmistakable.

“Damn right, it is,” Frankie said, pulling a chair over to sit nearby. “Now eat up. We’re not going through that again anytime soon.”

Despite her exhaustion, Y/n managed a faint smile as she took another sip. For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t feel quite so terrible.

As Y/n slowly worked her way through the bowl of soup, the two men hovered nearby, pretending to busy themselves but clearly watching her every move. Frankie leaned against the counter, tossing a dishrag between his hands, while Rocco pretended to scroll through his phone.

“You don’t have to babysit me,” Y/n muttered, her voice still raspy but carrying a faint note of amusement.

Frankie snorted. “Babysitting implies we actually know what we’re doing. This is more like damage control.”

Rocco smirked but didn’t look up. “Just eat. You’ve looked like a ghost for days, and it’s freaking me out.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but continued eating. The soup wasn’t just warm, it felt like it was slowly pulling her back from the brink. Despite their clumsy efforts, the two had managed to create something that didn’t just fill her stomach but soothed her.

When she finished, she set the bowl down on the table and leaned back against the couch cushions. “Thanks,” she said softly, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Don’t mention it,” Frankie said, quickly grabbing the bowl and heading to the kitchen.

Rocco sat down in the chair across from her, his arms resting on his knees. He studied her for a moment before speaking. “You’ve gotta start taking better care of yourself, you know that, right?”

Y/n cracked an eye open and gave him a weak glare. “Kinda hard when you feel like shit all the time.”

“Yeah, well, feeling like shit isn’t gonna stop the boss from tearing into us if something happens to you,” Rocco muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

The mention of Joker made her heart skip a beat, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she closed her eyes again, letting the warmth of the soup settle over her like a blanket.

Frankie returned from the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel. “Alright, since you’re fed, it’s bedtime. Doctor Google says rest is key or whatever.”

“Doctor Google?” Y/n mumbled, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

“Yeah, and don’t laugh. It’s the only medical degree we’ve got around here,” Frankie shot back, tossing the towel onto the counter.

Rocco stood up, stretching. “He’s right, though. You need to sleep. We’ll be here, so don’t worry about anything, alright?”

Y/n opened her eyes briefly, glancing between the two. Despite their gruff attitudes and questionable bedside manners, she could tell they were genuinely trying to help.

“Alright,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Frankie grabbed an extra blanket from a nearby chair and draped it over her as she curled up on the couch. Rocco turned the heater up a notch, muttering something about the drafty apartment.

As they settled into their makeshift positions, Frankie lounging in the armchair and Rocco leaning against the wall, Y/n let herself drift off, the sound of their quiet banter lulling her to sleep.

For the first time in days, she didn’t feel entirely alone.

Rocco had just settled back into the creaky chair, giving Frankie a side-eye as he scrolled through his phone. The apartment felt oddly quiet for once, with Y/n asleep on the couch and the sound of the heater humming in the background.

But the silence was shattered when Rocco's phone rang, cutting through the stillness. He stared at the screen, confused by the number.

"Who the hell..." he muttered, before swiping the screen to answer. "Yeah?"

There was a brief moment of silence, then a familiar voice came through the phone, rough and slightly distorted, as if coming from a distance. "Rocco."

Rocco froze, eyes widening. His grip tightened around the phone. "Boss? Is that you?"

A low grunt came from the other end, the voice now unmistakable. “No, it’s Santa. Give the phone to her.”

Without wasting another second, he pushed himself out of the chair, walking over to Y/n, who was lying on the couch, her breathing slow and steady in deep sleep. He hesitated for a moment, looking at her peaceful face before shaking her gently.

“Hey, wake up. Phone’s for you,” Rocco said, his voice low.

Y/n groaned softly, stirring under the blanket, her eyelids fluttering open but still heavy with sleep.

“Mmhmm?” she mumbled, barely registering what he said, her voice thick with drowsiness.

“Take the phone,” Rocco said, pressing the phone into her hand with a small, apologetic smile.

Y/n’s eyes, still foggy with sleep, took a moment to process his words. But when she heard the familiar voice come through the phone, her heart skipped a beat.

“Hey, Bunny.”

Her eyes shot wide open at the sound of his voice, disbelief and relief flooding through her all at once. "J!" she gasped, sitting up quickly despite the remnants of sleep dragging at her.

“That’s right, Bunny.” Joker’s voice came through low, almost muffled. “Now, listen. I don’t have much time, so don’t say anything that’ll get you in trouble. No names, no details. Just keep it simple.”

“Okay...” Y/n whispered, almost in disbelief that she was hearing him. Her pulse raced in her chest.

“How you holding up? They uh..treating you okay?” Joker’s voice was rough, but there was an unmistakable thread of concern woven in, something that made her heart swell.

Y/n paused for a moment, her thoughts racing. “Yes, they’re keeping me good...I had food, water, and sleep,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady, not wanting to worry him any more than he already might be.

“They feed you?” Joker repeated, his disbelief clear.

“Mhmm.” Y/n nodded even though she knew he couldn’t see her.

"And you lived?" Joker’s voice became incredulous, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“It was really good, actually! I swear!" Y/n chuckled softly, her mood lightening just hearing his voice, even if it was through a phone call. "I don't know what the hell they did, but it was, like...homemade soup or something.”

There was a pause on the other end. “Homemade soup?” Joker’s voice was tinged with amusement. “Jesus Christ, Bunny, what the hell’s going on over there?”

Y/n laughed again, feeling a little lighter as the conversation continued. She couldn’t believe how badly she’d missed him, how much she needed to hear his voice. Even with all the danger and chaos swirling around them, this small moment made everything feel somewhat normal again.

“What have you been doing, Bunny, hmm?” Joker’s voice dropped an accusatory tone, his words sharp yet tinged with concern. “Cause you ain’t been taking care of yourself.”

Y/n winced, guilt bubbling in her chest. “I know…I just haven’t been feeling great,” she muttered, her words barely escaping her lips.

“That’s no excuse to not look after yourself,” Joker snapped, though his voice softened quickly after, as if trying to hide the edge of frustration.

Y/n’s shoulders slumped, the weight of his words sinking in. “I understand…” She paused, looking down at the blanket wrapped around her, picking at the fibers.

“How is everything there?” she asked, wanting to divert the conversation away from her.

“How you’d expect a police station to be like,” Joker replied with a nonchalant chuckle, as if it was just another ordinary day. “No worries, Doll, I’m a frequent flyer here. They’ll ask me questions until they get tired, then send me right back off to Arkham.”

Y/n’s stomach twisted at the mention of Arkham. “What?” Her voice cracked, fear creeping into her chest.

“Don’t worry about it, Bunny,” Joker reassured, his tone light despite the underlying danger of his words. “I’ll be out before that happens.” He let out a chuckle, like it was all just a game, but it did little to ease the knot in Y/n’s stomach.

Her mind raced, trying to grasp the weight of what he was saying, but it didn’t add up. How could he sound so calm about all of this?

“What else is going on?” she asked, forcing her voice to stay steady.

“Well, they keep asking about your car,” Joker said, the amusement slipping into his voice again.

“They just won’t believe me when I tell them the car’s not being used for some heist or whatever, but my dear Bunny’s.” He lingered on the words, a playful hint beneath his serious tone. “They think I’m some kind of Joker.”

Y/n chuckled nervously, though it didn’t fully reach her eyes. “Well, from their point of view, I get it,” she said, rubbing her temple in a half-hearted attempt to ease the headache that had been gnawing at her for days.

In the background of the call, Y/n could hear a voice growling from a distance. "Okay, that's enough phone time for you!"

"Ooh, looks like the coppers want me," Joker's voice rang through the phone, still light-hearted despite the gravity of the situation. "Take care of yourself, Bunny. Get Frankie to go buy you an ice cream, you deserve it."

Y/n’s heart sank a little, knowing the call was ending. “Okay, bye J…” she murmured softly, a twinge of sadness in her voice as she reluctantly let go of the connection.

“Mwah!” Joker’s voice perked up, the sound of a kiss sent through the phone before the line clicked dead.

Y/n stared at the phone in her hand for a moment, her chest heavy. She handed it back to Rocco without saying another word, her gaze wandering over to Frankie, who had been quietly watching her.

“Joker said you have to go get me an ice cream,” she said, almost sheepishly.

Frankie blinked, eyes wide in disbelief. “Come on!” he groaned, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. “I’m ain’t your personal ice cream runner, you know that?”

Y/n let out a soft chuckle despite herself, the weight of the situation lightening just a little bit. “He said I deserve it,” she insisted, giving him a small, playful look.

Rocco snorted in the background, clearly trying to hide his own amusement, but Frankie just shook his head, clearly not amused by the sudden ice cream errand he was apparently now obligated to run.

“Fine,” Frankie muttered, clearly out of options, “But only ‘cause boss said so.” He turned towards the door, grabbing his jacket. "Don't expect me to get you anything fancy."

Frankie stormed out of the apartment with a grumble, muttering about how he was too old for this kind of nonsense. Y/n couldn't help but smile a little, even though the sadness still lingered in the pit of her stomach.

Rocco leaned against the counter, arms crossed as he observed her. "You good?" he asked, his tone soft but concerned.

Y/n nodded slowly, though she wasn’t sure how convincing it was. "I will be," she said, her voice quieter than she intended.

"Just…it’s hard, you know? Hearing his voice and then having to hang up." She paused, looking at the door where Frankie had just left. "I just feel…I don’t know. Like I’m just waiting for something to happen."

Rocco gave a nod, his expression unreadable. "I get it. But he’s not gonna let them keep him for long. You know how the Boss is." He seemed to try lighten the mood.

Y/n sighed, leaning back against the couch, wrapping her arms around herself. "I hope you're right," she murmured.

She closed her eyes, trying to push the thoughts of Joker being locked up, of everything that might go wrong, out of her mind.

After a few moments of silence, Rocco sighed and walked over to the window. "You need to rest. Frankie will be back soon, and when he gets back, you can get some real sleep. We’ve got you covered here."

Y/n didn’t argue. The exhaustion was creeping back in, and the warmth of the couch was almost too inviting. "Yeah," she whispered, sinking further into the cushions, "maybe just for a little while."

Wasn’t long till Frankie finally returned, looking both annoyed and tired, two containers of ice cream in his hands.

"Alright, alright," he muttered, placing the tubs on the coffee table with a huff. "Ice cream, just like the Boss ordered."

Y/n blinked, her exhaustion making her movements sluggish as she looked at the ice cream. "Thanks," she said quietly, trying to muster up a smile, though still tired. "I didn’t think you’d actually do it. But…why do you have two?"

“Like hell I’m gonna do all this work without reward,” Frankie said, lounging back while opening his tub of ice cream.

"Alright, you two. Eat your ice cream, then you get back to sleep." Rocco said, pointing at Y/n.

Y/n finally allowed herself a tiny laugh, something genuine this time, as she took a spoonful of the ice cream. It wasn’t much, but for now, it was enough.

It had been only a few hours since Y/n had finished the ice cream and drifted into sleep. The apartment was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that settles in before something disruptive happens. Suddenly, the front door burst open with a thunderous crash, slamming against the wall so hard that it rattled the cheap picture frames hanging nearby.

Y/n jolted awake, heart racing as she instinctively sat up on the couch. Disoriented and still half-asleep, she blinked at the doorway, trying to process what was happening.

“What the hell?” she muttered, her voice hoarse from exhaustion and lingering sickness.

Standing in the doorway, framed by the dim hallway light, was the one and only Joker. His grin stretched wide, his green hair slightly disheveled, and his eyes sparkling with chaotic energy. He threw his arms out, as if putting on a grand show for an audience of one.

“Ta-da!” he exclaimed, his voice dripping with that unnerving mix of charm and madness.

Y/n blinked again, certain she was either dreaming or hallucinating. “J?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat.

Joker’s grin widened as he sauntered into the apartment. “In…the…flesh, Bunny,” he said, spreading his arms wide before giving a mock bow. “Miss me?”

Rocco and Frankie stumbled out of the kitchen, both looking like they’d seen a ghost. “Boss?!” Rocco exclaimed, his voice cracking. “How the hell did you–”

“Details, details!” Joker interrupted, waving a gloved hand dismissively. “Do I look like a man who lets a little thing like prison keep him down?”

He spun on his heel to face Y/n again, his expression softening just a fraction. “But you, Bunny…you’ve been naughty.”

Y/n stared at him, still trying to wrap her head around his sudden appearance. “How are you here…?” she started, but her words trailed off as he strode over to her, crouching down so they were at eye level.

“Now, now,” Joker said, tilting his head as he studied her sickly face. “We’ll get to that later. First, we need to talk about you. You look like you’ve been run over by a bus, Bunny. Frankie and Rocco been slacking on their uh…babysitting duties?” He shot the two men a glare over his shoulder, making them both stiffen.

“Hey, we’ve been taking care of her!” Frankie protested, gesturing toward the empty ice cream container on the coffee table. “She ate, she rested, we even made soup!”

“Soup.” Joker repeated, raising an eyebrow. “My Bunny eating your soup. Yeah, I heard about that little endeavour.” He turned back to Y/n, his gloved hand brushing a strand of hair from her face. “But still, you’ve got some explaining to do.”

Y/n felt her throat tighten as she looked into his intense gaze. “J, I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joker leaned in closer, his grin turning devilish. “Bunny, I told you before. I’m gonna come back for you.”

Y/n didn’t have time to process Joker’s words before he stood up, his energy buzzing like static in the room. He clapped his hands together, making both Rocco and Frankie flinch.

“Alright, boys, let’s have a chat,” he said, his tone shifting from playful to commanding. “What’s the state of this little hideout? Security tight? Supplies stocked? Or have you two been playing house while my Bunny’s been rotting away?”

Frankie looked at Rocco, who reluctantly spoke up. “We’ve done everything you asked, boss. She’s been fed, rested, and kept safe. No one’s sniffing around. We’re good.”

“Safe,” Joker repeated, his tone skeptical as he paced the room. “And yet my Bunny looks like she’s one sneeze away from passing out again. Safe doesn’t mean a damn thing if she’s not healthy.” He whipped around to face them, his eyes blazing. “So, what’s the plan, hmm? How are you two fixing this?”

“We’ve been doing what we can!” Frankie interjected. “Soup, meds, ice cream, what else are we supposed to do?”

Joker laughed, the sound sharp and grating. “Oh, Frankie, Frankie, Frankie…You don’t fix her with ice cream and soup. You fix her by making sure she never gets like this in the first place!”

He pointed at Y/n, who was watching the exchange in stunned silence. “You let her get sick, and that’s the problem.”

Y/n finally found her voice. “J, stop,” she said, her tone firm despite the exhaustion weighing her down. “They’ve been taking care of me. It’s not their fault.”

Joker’s gaze snapped back to her, his expression softening slightly. “Defending the little guys, huh, Bunny?” He crouched down again, his gloved hand resting lightly on her knee. “But you’ve gotta take care of yourself too. Can’t have my Bunny falling apart on me.”

“I’m trying,” Y/n said quietly, her cheeks flushing under his intense gaze.

Joker straightened up, his manic grin returning. “Good. Because I didn’t bust out of that hellhole just to find you looking like an inch away from death.”

He turned to Rocco and Frankie. “You two, make yourselves useful. Get this place cleaned up, get some decent food stocked, and find a real doctor. None of this DIY crap.”

“Doctor?” Frankie repeated, wide-eyed. “How are we supposed to–”

Joker silenced him with a glare. “Figure it out. Or do I need to babysit you, too?”

The two men exchanged a nervous glance before scurrying off, muttering plans under their breath.

Joker turned back to Y/n, his expression unreadable. “Now, Bunny, let’s get you feeling better. And then…” His grin widened, full of dangerous promises. “We’ve got work to do.”

The apartment settled into an odd rhythm. Rocco was scrubbing dishes in the kitchen, muttering complaints about how Frankie always left things half-cleaned. Frankie lounged on the couch, flipping through channels, just waiting to jump up if Joker barked an order. Y/n, wrapped in a blanket, sat on a chair by the window, her fever finally subsiding.

Joker was at the table, sketching out something on a crumpled napkin, his gloved fingers moving with quick precision as he muttered half-formed plans to himself.

It felt oddly normal, like a strange little family of sorts. The heater hummed faintly in the corner, its warmth mixing with the faint scent of leftover soup lingering in the air. Every now and then, Joker would glance up at Y/n, his gaze softening before snapping back to his frantic scribbling.

But outside, across the street, perched on the rooftop of a rundown building, someone was watching. The figure was cloaked in shadows, blending seamlessly with the dark sky. Through binoculars, the scene inside the apartment unfolded in perfect clarity.

The faint glow of the heater, the flickering light from the TV, and the exaggerated gestures of Joker as he spoke animatedly to himself, all of it was observed in meticulous silence.

The man adjusted his grip, the faint outline of a gloved hand catching a stray glint of moonlight. A gust of wind ruffled the long edges of their cape, but they remained unmoving, a silent sentinel above the chaos below.

Their focus lingered on Y/n, her eyes closed as she slept on the run down couch. Then it shifted to Joker, who leaned back in his chair, throwing a mocking laugh toward Frankie.

A voice crackled softly in his earpiece, almost inaudible against the city’s distant hum. “Are you going to move in, sir?”

The man’s jaw tightened. No response.

His gaze returned to Joker, whose grin widened as he shoved his napkin sketch across the table for Rocco to examine. The man’s grip on the binoculars tightened, his shadowed silhouette growing even stiller, waiting for the right moment to strike.

A/N: Yep, very much on the shorter side, but got through it, lol.

I enjoyed writing this one, it was a little fun on to write for me, just Y/n getting treated by Joker's incompetent goons

Hopefully it will pick up in the next chapter (considering how I ended this one 👀)

Thank you for reading 💚

#fanfic #joker #joker fanfiction #heath joker #dc joker #health ledger joker x reader #jack and joker #the joker #ledger joker x reader #batman #the dark knight #the dark knight trilogy #joker x reader

22 notes · View notes