#he was just a lost and confused 15 year old

[maxwell-grant]

Jojo bingo: Father Pucci

And that brings us our second bingo

If Jonathan and Dio are my favorite characters sharing a kind of number one position together, Pucci is in a bloody contest with Jolyne and Jotaro for number two. I would even argue that he's the best JoJo villain. Even with his significantly more nuanced and calmer personality compared to them, he’s just as gloriously over-the-top and ridiculously funny at points as the other main JoJo baddies. He has two of my absolute favorite Stands in the series (Whitesnake alone deserves a separate post for how much it’s personality and powers add to Pucci, who is already complex and fascinating and horrifying even without a Stand that has an entirely separate personality), he’s pro-active and vicious as a main villain to an extent the series hadn't seen since Phantom Blood Dio, he grows in power and scope and personality over the part, he’s psychologically disturbing and fucked up to an extent I'd argue surpasses Kira (y’know, the fetish-based serial killer), he adds a ton to Dio's character and his story culminates in him growing into a bigger, badder and better villain than DIO and, just, Pucci is incredible. There couldn't be a better villain to wrap up the original JoJo saga. One of the greatest villains of all time ever. 

I feel like out of all the main JoJo villains, Pucci is the only one who does pull off being morally grey (Valentine really isn’t, he’s a silver-tongued imperialist torturer and J.Geil-tier disgusting creep who’s just good enough at appropriating heroic imagery that he’s convinced himself and a good chunk of the readership (and the Eyes of Heaven writers apparently) that his deeply selfish and unfathomably monstrous plan is noble and selfless and patriotic. He’s a good and layered villain, but morally grey he isn’t). Having significantly lesser crimes compared to the others, more human reasons and more concrete goals, all of which doesn’t do that much to make him sympathetic, quite the opposite. Pucci is horrifying for a myriad of reasons, some of which have to do with the fact that we’re allowed to understand him and his backstory and his goals, and get in his headspace in a way that’s only really reserved for protagonists. Pucci is one of the best examples of how audience sympathy can be used to make villains more resonating and even more horrifying. Pucci is horrible, awful, even described as “the evil that doesn’t know that it’s evil, the worst evil there is”. And we walk through his journey every step of the way. 

Sometimes this moral greyness gives way to people arguing Pucci wasn’t so bad or that he was the only JoJo villain not motivated by selfishness, which I kinda disagree with. Because while it’s true Pucci doesn’t think of himself as selfish and genuinely believes he’s doing everyone a favor, Pucci’s plan is monstrous, and to pull it off he commits the most unfathomably selfish deed in the entire series. He quite literally breaks the universe and rebuilds it again in order to strip agency from everyone, HIMSELF INCLUDED (even if he does have more power over it than everyone else), so that everyone will accept the fate that’s decided for them and never try to defy fate. This, he argues, is born of “resolution eradicating despair”, which further cements Pucci as a Joestar-gone-wrong, in that he quite literally turns the driving ethos of the series against itself, against the universe and the Joestars. And he wins.

No one has any agency, no one's decisions matter, no one’s at fault for anything. Pucci rewrote the universe so that he’d fundamentally never be responsible for his sister's death, by making it so that she not only never really existed to begin with (since the dead do not carry over with their souls and personalities intact), but even if she did, she would have just learned it’s inevitability ahead of schedule and accepted it and be happy for it, just like everyone else, nothing anyone (certainly not him) could have ever done about it. And this? I find this to be a level of ghastly selfishness somehow scarier than anything DIO did, because it’s so much more human, so much more tragic, and so much more fucked up existentially. 

(People have argued a bit over whether or not this goal fits DIO’s character and there’s room to argue both ways, but even putting aside Eyes of Heaven (which is thankfully non-canon, but it’s take on Heaven DIO was designed with input from Araki himself, which counts for something), the plan outlined in DIO’s Diary was always meant to be fulfilled by a friend and not DIO himself)

And I think this is part of why I’m so strongly in that “Everyone is wrong about them” camp because, people consistently mischaracterize Pucci as only a couple of steps above the average DIO flunky, or someone motivated by a romantic love towards DIO (putting aside the age thing, DIO’s Diary quite literally states that Pucci would have been the wrong person if this was the case), or even non-canon spin-offs that depict Pucci as someone who’d immediately abandon Heaven if DIO was still around to boss him. I fundamentaly disagree with this because Pucci adheres to the same theme of legacy that defines Jolyne. And much like Jolyne, who has to battle for the sake of her lineage and the universe, needs to be better than Jotaro, needs to succeed where Jotaro failed (which she does through rescuing Emporio), Pucci has to be better than DIO. Stone Ocean is the glorious apocalyptic book-end to Phantom Blood, with Jolyne, at the end of the world, forcing herself into becoming the final Ultimate JoJo and wrangling along whatever reality-warping weirdos she can, as she desperately tries to catch up to the new Ultimate Evil who's running away with the plot so fast nobody can catch him until the end. 

Pucci surpasses DIO, in terms of power (he attains a Stand that surpasses all other time-based Stands, including the one that defeated The World), scope and accomplishment (he single-handedly disabilitates DIO’s arch-enemy with relative ease and then kills him by turning his time stopping power against him, as well as the current JoJo and the entire supporting cast that accompanied her, and recreates the world into one where the Joestars cannot do anything against him, and only loses because he, like Dio, goes too far and targets an outsider ally to the Joestars). Pucci isn’t DIO’s 2nd in command or partner or flunky, or DIO-lite, Pucci is superior to DIO, he’s DIO’s ultimate accomplishment, the supreme power he attains over Destiny and the Joestars, within the text. When they do JoJo mega crossovers like Jorge Joestar and Eyes of Heaven, they downplay Pucci’s agency and beef up DIO’s powers to be some multiversal world-challenging menace, just so he won’t be lagging behind Pucci, who already is that in-canon. 

Pucci is horrible because he makes use of every resource at his disposal, everything that the protagonists have, everything that the Joestar bloodline has used over the centuries, Pucci turns against them. Enrico Pucci’s endgame is to rewrite the history and ethos of JJBA itself so he may wrench defeat from the jaws of victory forever, and he succeeds, and I love that this is not at all an exaggeration of what he does. 

Pucci is horrible because everything he does stem from his complete inability to analze himself and admit wrongdoing, to even recognize his cruelty and malice as such, he has such a gargantuan moral and personal blind spot that even his Stand, the rageful melting spectre he bosses around to corrupt and kill people and strip away their memories or give them dangerous powers, is shown to be more introspective and reflective and humorous than the human who wields it, who has to yell at it occasionally to get things done. 

He compartmentalizes everything that comes his way and interprets everything so that he never has to have his worldview challenged, never has to question himself, never has to regret anything that ever happened to him or that he ever did. Everything was fated to be. Everything is a test that everyone, including him, must pass, ergo, he’s on even odds with everyone else. If he fails or fucks up, he’s being tested, ergo, he will eventually succeed. If others fail or fuck up, they’re to be disposed of, such is the order of things. If he succeeds or something goes his way, it was fated to be. If others get the upperhand, he’s being tested by fate, and since fate demands him to survive and complete his mission, he’s got permission to destroy and kill whoever’s holding him back. 

If he does horrible things, well, what’s a few corpses, or a hundred thousand, for the good of the entire world? Would you make their sacrifices meaningless by stopping him? Everything is fated to be, and fate is on his side, not yours. He’s DIO’s God’s chosen. If The Lord wanted him to stop, he’d have chosen someone else, he’d have died by now, but he didn’t, so it falls on him to drag mankind kicking and screaming into the better tomorrow his friend showed him. He barrels through the story with this mindset and even dies screaming it, screaming at Emporio and the vengeful power of the brother he murdered that they just don’t understand anything.

His backstory is so fucked up because we see how he was wronged by fate and circumstance time and time again, how he was just confused and looking for answers, but for all intents and purposes he was a good kid trying to do what was best for everyone. He went to a seminary to find answers, to alleviate his guilt over his (at the time) dead twin brother, to learn about how to find happiness for himself and others. A horrid situation was thrust into his lap by no fault of his own, and he tried to handle it with the least amount of harm to all parties, and he fucked up catastrophically. And that moment, that awful moment, where he finds Pearla’s body and has a moment of self-realization, where he briefly understands he is to blame and, is on the cusp of kickstarting the path that should have lead him to becoming a better person, a morally responsible person, and then

fucking

DIO

who immediately provides Pucci with the escape hatch out of the Painful Moral Growth path, who fills his head with poison and stunts his growth by giving Pucci absolution on the terms that Pucci wanted, not the terms that Pucci needed. What started as seemingly the most benign thing DIO had ever done for anyone (healed a young priest’s malformed foot and left him some parting words) spiraled into the actual end of the universe as said priest, well, no longer needed God, once he figured that DIO could play the part for him, could provide him the answers the church wasn’t giving him, could alleviate his guilt and teach him what brings people together and alleviate his guilt and teach what makes someone happy and alleviate his guilt and alleviate his guilt and alleviate his guilt and alleviate his guilt and

As much as I stand by the idea that Pucci is DIO’s superior and his ultimate legacy, because this is DIO we’re talking about and all evil in-universe springs from him (Araki said as much in the post-scriptum for Vento Aureo that DIO embodies Destiny and Fate), Pucci is also, to an extent, a victim of DIO. This is also part why I fundamentally disagree with the idea that Stone Ocean softened DIO. I don’t agree with the idea that his pursuit of Heaven was out of character either (it was essentially what he’d always been looking for, trying to attain happiness by taking control over his destiny in increasing bids for power and self-transformation), and I don’t agree with the idea that this was out-of-character. I’d argue DIO’s much-vaunted manipulative charisma, while always present, had never once been depicted as horrifyingly thoroughly as it is here, when he truly lives up to the dark messiah image his followers in Part 3 described and when we see how thoroughly he was able to corrupt Pucci, even while doing seemingly nothing but being the priest’s friend at a time of need. Stone Ocean, I’d argue, makes DIO scarier and more godlike in a way no other part (and certainly not those crossovers that did push Dio into actual godhood) did. 

I think Pucci is one of the few religious villains I’ve seen that I like because he’s much more interesting than just a condemnation of particular priests or the church as an institution, and he doesn’t go the obvious route of being an old white bigot (quite the opposite, since those types killed his family to begin with). Rather, he embodies so many kinds of thinking you see within religious circles or mindsets. “He works in mysterious ways”, “He saves all of us in the end”, “only His will matters”, “humans cannot possibly claim to understand His design”, “there is a point to the suffering”, “the suffering will be worth it if you trust Him”, “look out for His signs even if you don’t understand what they are for”, “your suffering on Earth will be nothing compared to how much better your life will be in Heaven”, “trust those that He sends your way to guide you”, “trust not those who fall into the path of evil, the path that is not His”, “your enemies deserve salvation as well even if they don’t know it”, there’s just, so much you could dissect here, in terms of how Pucci speaks to the experience of religious thinking, or even just believing in the existence of God even if you’re not specifically christian or religious (...see why I put up there why I’m a little scared to admit I relate to, or at least kind of get, Pucci? Sometimes I think of Pucci as almost a big Mr.Hyde to the collective experience of everyone who grew up religious and had that shape their worldview whether they wanted or not.).

Pucci, a man every bit driven by the same unsatiable black hole that DIO has (just replace “ambition” with “guilt”), takes all of these, and drives them to an unfathomably horrifying, yet entirely plausible, conclusion. Spearheaded by tangible proof that yes, Fate is real, Heaven is real, and he can make it happen, no, he’s the one assigned by higher powers to make it happen, so long as he just does this and that and gets rid of some vile enemies of his that would rather have all of mankind suffer before letting him win. But, no matter, the sinners always get their due, in the end. 

I hate that Netflix’s release schedule killed the Stone Ocean hype but, no matter, nothing can take away from how great it is and how great Pucci is. Not quite my favorite but one I’d easily argue is the best villain in the series, the perfect apocalyptic pilgrim JoJo needed to bring the end of all things and the birth of countless new ones.

Also, I always read Stone Ocean and applied DIO’s OVA theme to Pucci’s scenes. I love his anime theme, but I will always think of this as Pucci’s theme first and foremost.

[dire-kumori]

cassidy surviving william's attempt on her life and swearing revenge as a very alive and very angry grade schooler sounds like an interesting plot point

flkdsjfl;jsdlkfj, it does! I'm just not 100% sure where she'd fit in. The AU's primarily Mike and Evan trying to sneak around Will while repairing their relationship under the most... awkward (understatement) of circumstances. Although....

Another idea I had involved Mike becoming obsessed with studying the paranormal and supernatural in order to learn how to help Evan as best he can. And given the time frame*, this got Mike labelled as a satanist by the people of Hurricane and made him even more of an outcast than he already was. Some even began gossiping that the Bite of '83 was him sacrificing his brother to the devil.

This ties back to Cassidy, I swear.

So, let's say Cassidy survives the attempt on her life and vows vengeance on Will. Not so easy for a teeny kid. And maybe she tries to tell her parents or someone that the man in the bunny costume tried to kill her, but Will is charming and charismatic and manages to convince people that the attempt on her life was simply the result of her overactive imagination. Poor Cassidy gets away with her life, but everyone assumes that she was either lying or getting worked up over nothing and trying to get poor Mr. Afton in trouble.

So she starts keeping an eye on the Aftons, and that's how weird, gloomy, secretive, supposed demon-worshipping Michael catches her eye. She notices that he skips school a lot, never socializes with anyone, and aside from checking the library for things that make suburban moms clutch their pearls, never really leaves his house. She also notices that he and his murdering dad aren't exactly close. It's a risk, but she decides it might be worth trying to figure out what his deal is in order to get the evidence she needs to prove that William is a murderer.

[crqelsummer]

wait wait wait what happens if the user for OFA dies before they pass it on

[reidmotif]

Regret on the Rocks

Summary: Spencer finds himself at a bar being served by the girl who once broke his heart. Turns out she feels a lot more than just regret for letting him go.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Light Angst/Smut

Content Warning: drinking, Spencer is a little depressed, mentions of heavy bullying (specifically 3x16), car sex, female masturbation, Spencer POV, heavy kissing, unprotected penetrative sex

Word Count: 4.3k

Masterlist

Regret is an emotion I’m well accustomed to. It’s not to mean that I’m unhappy with my life by any means, but I’m aware of the space between my current situation and the ‘beyond’ that could’ve been if things had just been different. 

If I’d never joined the BAU.

If I’d had a more conventional life in the first place.

If connection came to me as easy as it seemed to other people my age. 

But none of those things seemed to ring true, so I carried regret in me like a bruise of honor. Despite the regret, I faced it every day and lived to do it all over again in the morning. It didn’t mean it was easy, and today proved that. Today, it was hard going to sleep knowing I’d wake up to do it all over again. 

In light of this, I’d found myself in a bar, alone. The case we’d been working on saw little to no fruition despite our efforts, and it’d resulted in another body we couldn’t save. Another person I was responsible for. It weighed down on me more than I cared to admit. 

I found myself continually lost in my thoughts, navigating through the carefully weaved web of guilt and self-doubt, spiraling, until a much softer, surprised voice pulled me out. 

“Spencer Reid? Is that you?” She asks. I hear her voice before I see her, and I know that it’s the bartender stood behind the bar, and there’s confusion as I wonder who could’ve possibly recognized me in a rundown small-town bar.

I look up and meet her eyes, and it’s as if a flood of memories ensues. A flash of recognition crosses my face, and seeing the images playing in my head, almost akin to a film reel, slowly walking me through one of my earliest regrets. 

I was 15, navigating my senior year while being the youngest one there. Despite the oddness of my situation, it never crossed my mind that I shouldn’t have tried so hard to participate in the same social events as my peers. With the hindsight of adulthood, I now imagine that if I had withdrawn, spent more of my time alone than trying to not be,  the hurt of never being accepted would sting less, because I’d never had tried in the first place.

But I had tried, and she was the only one who got me. She was older, yes, and beautiful and popular,  but those didn’t matter half as much as the conversations we’d manage to have. She never seemed to take offense to any ramble of mine, and I’d feel my heart soar when she’d ask questions after my monologues, sending me the clearest signals of interest in what I had to say.

And as a lonely 15 year old? It meant the absolute world to have that. To have her as my friend.

And so, when it came time for senior prom, in the interest of at least trying to fit in, I asked her to go with me. As friends of course, but even then she shook her head, and ruefully told me someone else had asked her. I vaguely recalled the name she’d given me off of a football roster I’d once read while attending the school, and nodded. I understood. I was prepared for the rejection, in fact I’d already taken it the moment she said no. I was prepared to live with it.

Then came the week before prom. Being lured away from the safety of the campus, and onto a football field. Being tied to a flagpole, while everyone watched- and laughed. I remember seeing a face, his face, knowing he was the one who was taking her. Taking (Y/N) to the prom. 

I rarely dwell on the events of that day, but I do remember the regret. I remember wondering that if I’d just never spoken to her, I’d maybe have been less of a target. I wondered if maybe I’d never asked her in the first place, maybe our friendship could’ve survived the whole ordeal, but it hadn’t. She never spoke to me after that, her head hanging low as she continued to hang off of his arm, never sparing me another glance again. 

But here she was, glancing- no, staring at me, her eyes wide. 

“What are you doing here? Are you.. Did you always live here all along?” She asks, her voice uncharacteristically soft and mellow. She was loud back in high school, I remember. She had the best laugh I’d ever known. 

It takes me a second, but I give her a flat smile, setting my glass down. “I’m here for a case, actually.” 

“A case..?” She says, her head tilting a bit in confusion. 

Clearing my throat, I nod. “Yeah, a case. I’m an FBI agent. I’m here for a recent string of murders being committed in the area.” 

“Wow, FBI, huh? I never thought of you as law enforcement.” She says, her eyebrows raising. “Always thought you were going to change the world with that brain of yours.” She adds, a small smile on her face. My eyes narrow in distrust at the sudden compliment, unsure of her intentions. 

“I’d say I’m changing the world.” I respond, a little defensively. “I like my job. I like that I change lives by not letting them end.”

She immediately retracts her statement, vehemently shaking her head. “No, no! That’s not what I meant at all. I mean, of course you’re changing the world- I just thought you’d be doing more. Okay- not more. I just- Gah. I swear, don’t take it the wrong way.” She pauses, before gesturing to herself.  “I mean, I have no room to talk.” She says, the words a little rushed and frantic. 

“What do you mean, no room to talk?” I ask, squinting in genuine confusion. 

“I mean, I work as a bartender. I don’t know what I want from life, but it’s certainly not this.” She says, motioning to the shelves of drinks behind her, a little defeated. 

She’s so different from when I knew her. Self-assured. Confident. She seemed almost meek in this environment, and the only recognition of the girl I knew came from the small, embarrassed smile she gave me.

“Well. We’re a lot more alike than you think, then. Titles mean nothing.” I say, voice a bit quieter. “I don’t think it’s anything to be ashamed of, though. We’re just getting through life the best we can, right?” 

She nods a little, seeming to take comfort in my statement. “Look at you. You’ve still got the same sweetness in you from high school.” 

Stiffening at the mention of high school, I just nod and taking another sip from the glass in front of me, which was starting to empty out. “Not trying to be sweet, I think. Just honest.” I say, bluntly.

It’s mean, I’m aware. I can feel her trying, but I don’t want to offer her the same. I want her to feel awkward. I want her to know what she did was wrong. 

There’s a silence that passes through the two of us, before she breaks it with a continued gesture of kindness, turning around to fill another glass with my drink of choice and setting it down in front of me, a small smile playing on her lips. 

“For being honest then. Thank you.” She says, and her eyes meet with mine. I almost hear the unspoken apology in her voice, in the way her fingers slowly push the chilled glass towards my empty hand, in the way she bites her lip softly, waiting to see what I’d say.

“To being honest.” I say, raising the glass slightly and downing the drink a little faster than I intended, not wanting to think too much about the implications of the gesture. To know that she possibly had regrets too. That she might still have the goodness I once knew in her. 

“I have about half an hour left in my shift, but if it’s alright, I’d love to catch up properly.” She says, keeping her gaze trained on mine. “I’ve.. missed you.” She says, her voice soft. 

I don’t respond to her last statement, but I can’t deny the magnetic pull begging me to say yes to her request, to at least see where our lives had gone after our separation. So I nod, silently.

“I’ll be here.” 

I try to lay off the drinks for the next thirty minutes, opting to sip some water instead to clear my mind in preparation for the time I’d be spending with her. Part of me wondered if I shouldn’t have accepted the invite at all. It wasn’t that I forgave her per say,  but the curiosity to know her all over again was overwhelming, regardless of the pain she’d caused me. I’m once again reminded why “curiosity killed the cat” is such an overused aphorism.

She comes up to me thirty-six minutes later, and I hate myself for keeping track. She flashes me a small smile. 

“You waited.” She says, softly. 

“I said I would, right?” I respond, unsure why that would mean anything to her. I agreed to this. I wanted this, even if I could physically feel the inner turmoil brewing throughout my body. I suppose it didn’t show though, because she continued on, smiling. 

“There’s an ice cream place I like around here. Would you like to go?” She asks, and I see her teeth catch onto her bottom lip, the plumpness of the feature being exacerbated by the action, causing me to momentarily lose my train of thought. 

“Uh. Yeah, ice cream. Sounds good.” I say, placing my hands in my pockets. 

“Did you drive here? I mean- I hope not. You drank quite a bit.” She says, starting to walk to the exit of the bar. 

“No, no. My hotel is actually right here. I walked. Needed to get my mind off some things and I ended up here since it was convenient.” I say, and I feel myself falling back into that comfortable rhythm of just being able to speak freely around her. 

It’s like no time has passed at all, and yet I’m acutely aware that nothing is the same. That we’re avoiding a bigger issue at hand. 

“Yeah.” She murmurs. “The murders around here have been grisly, haven’t they?” She says, starting to lead me to her car. “I get nervous when I hear about that stuff, so I find myself looking away from the news more often than not.” She continues, quirking her mouth to the other side, as if she’s aware this isn’t the best course of action, but does it anyway.

“It’s cute.” I think.

I push the thought away. 

“Understandable.” I reply, nodding. “I don’t watch the news either. I mean- I do read the news. But I don’t watch it.” 

She starts the car, and I observe a hint of a grin on her face, her eyes crinkling at the edges in a way that makes my heart jump. “So you still like to read then?” She says, seeming genuinely happy I’d kept up the habit even after my youth. 

“Oh yeah. I mean, reading isn’t something I really ever let go of. It’s a good activity when you’re out on the road so much.” I say, feeling solace in talking about something I truly loved. “Sometimes I feel like books provide me with better stimuli than social interaction.” I continue, unaware of the implications of my words, and I only realize once I’ve seen her raise an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, but I mean. Friends are good too, right?” She says, a hint of concern making her way into her voice. 

I chuckle a little bitterly. “Probably. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I have my team, and I’m grateful but-” I pause, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know. It doesn’t come to me like that, you know? And I’m not bothered by it, but I don’t like to think about it.” I say. There’s a faint feeling of heat on my face from the honesty, but I continue to stare straight ahead, not wanting to see her reaction to my words. 

“You were a good friend to me, Spencer. Better than a lot of the friends I had in high school, and I’m not just saying that.” She says, softly. 

I respond without thinking, shaking my head with an embittered motion and a click of my tongue.

“Yeah, and look where that got me.” 

She’s a little silent then, and I refuse to say anything else. She’s the one who invited me here. I don’t know what she wanted out of this, but I wasn’t going to forego my own feelings just to spare hers. I was here. That was enough. I was allowed to say that. 

We pull into an empty parking lot, where I see the neon lights advertising an ice cream parlor, but we don’t get out. She turns off the headlights and blows a bit of air between her lips, placing her hands in her lap and turning towards me. 

“Spencer.” She murmurs, swallowing a bit. “I am so, so sorry for what I did in high school. I know I wasn’t there when.. You know when. And I know I didn’t speak to you afterwards, and I am so sorry.” She repeats. “I hope you believe me when I say I really did miss you. I was such an idiot back in high school, and nothing can repair that, but I missed you so much.” She says. 

I turn to her and can see the tears welling up in her eyes and feel my heart soften. It’s insane, the effect she can have on me, even years later. 

“Hey, don’t cry.” I say, immediately reaching over to wipe a tear from her cheek, my thumb swiping over the expanse of her smooth skin. “It’s just high school. It’s a long time ago.” 

“No.” She says, emphatically, shaking her head. “Don’t lie to me. What I did was awful. It doesn’t matter if it was long ago. You can call me a bitch. You can- scream or hell! I don’t know. You can be angry at me. You should be angry at me. I could never say sorry enough.” She says. 

I shake my head, all the previous resentment and bitterness dissipating instantly. It was a bit odd, feeling the emotions I’d long held onto even years after our fracture go away so quickly, but she was my friend. For what it had been worth, she had been good to me.  And right now, she was my friend, crying in a car, and the guilt and shame couldn’t be more obvious. 

I move to hold her hand, wanting to comfort her, rubbing small circles into the skin near her thumb, her fingers grasping over mine, almost afraid to let me go now.

“You’re right, in a way. What you did confused me and left me feeling really.. lonely. But now that I’m older I think I better understand it, but it doesn’t change the fact you hurt me.” I reply, and I see her jaw tighten, nodding and taking my words to heart. 

“But I don’t think I resent you anymore for what happened.” I continue, the words tumbling out. “Seeing you guilty and ashamed so many years later is just making me wish we’d talked earlier, so we wouldn’t have had to feel this way for so long. Maybe we could’ve.. I don’t know. Picked up where we left off.” 

She gives me a flat smile, tears still in her eyes. “Yeah? I’d have liked that.” She murmurs. 

“I mean it.” I say, flashing her a soft smile. I decided to lighten the conversation for her comfort. 

“Doesn’t mean I won’t call you an idiot for dating that prick though.” I respond, a little teasingly, hoping to get a bigger smile out of her. 

“Oh god.” She says, leaning back, laughing a bit. “Please do. God, he was so .. awful.” She says. “He wasn’t half as funny as you. Just.. boring honestly.” 

I smirk a little at the words, feeling a bit of pride but brushing it off with a shrug. “I mean, it's a cliche right? Beautiful, smart girl with the boring jock?” I say. “You and like, 6 out of 10 high school girls probably fall directly into that category.” 

She gives me a laugh at that one, a real one, and my heart soars upon the sound alone. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d missed her.

 “6 out of 10? Where’s that statistic from? High School Girls Anonymous?” She responds, matching my energy and continuing the banter.

“Just trust me. I know these things very well.” I say, trying my best to sound as faux academic as possible, hoping to make her feel at ease, to fully let go of the tension from before.

“Well, then.” She says, softly, turning the conversation to be a bit more sincere. “I’m glad I don’t fall into that cliche anymore. I’m glad my taste changed.” 

I nod, surprisingly relaxing into the vulnerability of the words. “Yeah, it happens. Tastes do change throughout life, especially post-adolescence. One could denote it to the development of the prefrontal cortex, but I like to say it’s out of knowing what you want out of life.” 

“Have yours? I mean, your tastes. Have they changed?” She asks, her eyes boring into mine, and I realize that my hand is still holding hers.

I lick my lips and shrug. “Here and there. For the most part, yes, but I find myself clinging to certain aspects of my teenage self.” I respond, vaguely. 

She continues to look at me, nodding. “Mine have. For sure.” “How so?” I ask, my heart speedingbup. 

“I think I learned to like sweeter guys.” She says, softly. “Ones that don’t bore me entirely, and ones I actually want to spend time with. Maybe that’s a cliche in itself but..” She shrugs, ending off her sentence there. 

I nod, wondering where this was leading. Her eyes were trained on mine and I could feel my pulse quickening. Was she going to kiss me? Was I going to kiss her? Was I crazy for thinking that at all? What was happening here? 

“You said you still have certain aspects of your teenage self in your tastes.” She says suddenly, her face moving a bit closer to mine. “What did you mean by that?” 

I sigh, taking in the features of her face, and how they seem to be illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the windows of her car. She was so stunning, even now. Even after all these years, I couldn’t deny she’d only grown to be more beautiful.

 I lick my lips and nod. “I guess I just meant.. I still find you just as beautiful as I did back when I first knew you. Even moreso now, honestly.” I say, quietly. 

I can feel her breath hitch, and her own tongue darting out to wet her lips, mirroring my actions. Her gaze shifts from my eyes to my lips, and back to my lips again, and I’m extremely aware of what I want at this moment. 

“Can I kiss you?” I ask, my hand still in hers, studying her with a careful gaze. 

She nods almost immediately, and at the same time, we surge forward to meet the other’s lips, her hands immediately cupping my cheek and my hands moving to her waist. I hear the click of her seatbelt being unfastened, and suddenly she’s in the passenger seat with me, straddling my waist and continuing to keep her lips locked firmly on mine. 

It’s like I can’t get enough of her, my hands exploring her back, eventually lowering them to squeeze her ass, which elicits a low moan from her. I pull back a little, panting and see her eyes blown out with lust, causing me to groan from just how deep my desire for her ran in this moment. I let one of my hands to run over her bottom lip, pulling it down and letting it bounce back up, enamored by just how close she was. 

“Fuck.” I murmur, unable to contain my awe at her and without wasting a moment, she’s grabbing my hair roughly to pull me back in again to meet her mouth with mine. When given the opportunity from another soft moan from her, I immediately slip my tongue into her mouth, relishing in the way she grabs my collar and presses her body against mine, matching my enthusiasm one for one. 

It felt so good to be wanted by her.

She starts to whimper at the intensity of our prolonged contact, and the sound activates something primal in me. It was almost as if once I heard it, I couldn’t go back. Pulling myself back from the kiss, I start to trail my lips up and down her neck, leaving hot, wet kisses in my wake while she writhed in my lap, her fingers tugging on my hair in desperation. I played with the motion for a bit, testing out certain points on her, before finding that she’d moan loudest at a pulse point at the junction in which her jawline met her neck. I sucked on the spot, being sure to leave a large, dark mark.

I didn’t care what would happen after this night, but for right now, she was mine, and I intended to treat her as such. 

“You said your hotel room was nearby, right?” She pants, starting to move her thighs off mine. “We can go and-” 

I immediately wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her back against me with a force that surprised even me, before gripping her hair and placing my mouth near the shell of her ear. I can hear her squeak at the motion, but her legs relax back into straddling mine. 

“I want you now.” I whisper, my voice hoarse and low. “We can go, if you’d like but- I need you now. I can’t stress that enough.” 

She melts in my arms as I say that, and a grin comes upon my face from the desire she was displaying as well. She nods quickly, before moving her fingers to my belt, and just upon hearing the sounds of the hardware moving, my head involuntarily falls back because- holy fuck. Feeling her so close to where my pants were now currently constricted nearly had me finishing right there. I could barely look at her without feeling overwhelmed. I feel my cock being pulled from my briefs, and I let out a moan. 

I look at her again, and she’s the picture of lust. Her pupils are dilated and her hair is messy, and her mouth slightly agape. She’s everything I want right now. All I want. 

“You’re so big.” She mumbles, leaning back, her hand wrapped around me, beginning to stroke me in a gentle, rhythmic motion. 

“Yeah?” I murmur back, breathing in sharply when her thumb runs over my slit, feeling the precum already dripping down my shaft. Even her hand is making me question if I’ll finish right here before ever getting to be inside her.

“Yeah.” She whispers, almost breathlessly. 

“You can take it.” I say, looking at her, and the girl looks like she’s about to moan off of my words alone. She licks her lips before responding, her voice a bit higher than before. 

“I don’t have a condom- but I’m clean and-” 

“Yes.” I respond immediately and she moves quickly. My fingers, as if possessed, move to unbutton her dress a bit, letting her breasts spill out (to my delight). The urge to strip her bare for me crosses my mind, but then I’m acutely aware that we were in her car, and the risk of being caught was far too high for the pleasantries I wished to indulge her and myself in, and I find myself slightly wishing we had gone to the hotel room. Next time.

Before I get too caught up in the fantasy of possibly ever fucking her again, I see her reach under her dress, presumably to move her panties aside and groan at the thought. My hands roam over her body to find her hips, slowly guiding her onto my cock, her walls squeezing around me tightly as her hips met mine. 

Her moans were sweet, but I found my hand covering her mouth quickly, watching as her eyes shone with pleasure with just the slightest movement from either of us. 

“Need you to stay quiet, pretty girl.” I murmur. “You can do that for me, right?”

She nods, eager to please, and I keep my hand on her mouth for a moment too long as I watch her eyes flutter shut, then open, her hands wrapping around my neck to stabilize herself. She starts moving then, lifting off until my tip is the only thing inside of her, before slamming against me, creating the best type of friction for both of us, causing there to be desperation for more. My hands rush down to grip her waist, and I can barely stifle my own noises from how fucking good she feels.

It’s a frenzy after that, and I match her movements with thrusts from below. I know it’s enjoyable for her, based on how hard she’s trying to not make a single sound, but still lets out the tiniest little whimpers and gasps when my cock grinds against her spot, and from the way her thighs shake every single time I disappear deep into her, a small bulge forming in her lower stomach every time I pushed into her. Every clench and squeeze of her cunt drives me insane, and I can’t help the low groan slipping out of me. 

Her movements get erratic, signaling her end, and I grin at how quickly I managed to get her there. My fingers move to stroke her clit in circular motions, savoring the way I could hear her whisper my name, grinding down on my dick and chasing the feeling of my fingers on her. 

“Close?” I mumble, biting down on her shoulder lightly, which causes a louder moan to slip out of her. 

“Yes. Yes.” She whispers, breathlessly. “Please, Spencer. Oh god. Please.” 

I jut into her more rapidly, continuing the motions against her, before her walls tighten and squeeze around me, and her cunt flooding the base of my cock. I continue to move like a man possessed, swallowing the moans of her orgasm with a messy kiss, before finally, I reach my release as well, coating her walls from the inside out. 

She pants for a second, collapsing against my shoulder as she tries to catch her breath, and I stroke her hair, attempting to do the same. She moans softly, her hands wrapped around me as her eyes flutter open and shut. 

“I was wrong.” She mumbles, nuzzling into my shoulder, kissing it softly. I’m unsure about the meaning of the words, so I quietly ask her. 

“What about?” 

“You’re incredibly different from when we were in high school.” She says, softly. 

“Good or bad different? I ask, a little self consciously, which is amusing considering I’m still inside her. 

“Good. Really, really fucking good.” She clarifies, quickly, with a dazed smile. I lean in, kissing her a bit more softly now, letting my lips languidly trace over hers. 

“You too.” I murmur, and I can feel her smile against my lips.

No regrets about this one. 

WOAHHH. oh em gee. a fic! so so so deeply sorry i didn't live upto posting more fics this december and january, but i swear i'm gonna keep trying to at least get two out a month. valentines day is coming up, so you already know i'm gonna try and write something fluffy and cute for that, so look out for that. as usual, thank you so so much for any and all continued support. it seriously means the world to me and i cannot say that enough <3 i hope this fic was enjoyable. like, reblog, comment, whatever <3 just ty for reading!! <3

[bones4thecats]

S/O with PTSD After Their Students Pass

Characters: Gyomei Himejima, Kyojuro Rengoku, Mitsuri Kanroji, and Obanai Iguro Inspired By: Random idea that came to mind A/N: You can tell I had the most fun writing Iguro's part. I'm kinda having a hard time writing for Gyomei, but I'm sure I'll get used to his character here soon! Anyways, enjoy! ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Spoilers for the MANGA, mentions of mutilation, blindness, war, blood, death, PTSD, and near-death experiences ⚠️

Disclaimer: Imagine they all survive the final battle (by character)

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Gyomei Himejima ════════════════════════╝

🪨 Gyomei knew how much you adored teaching your tsugukos, especially your deceased-friend's son, Hoshi. And he knew just how strong these young slayers were from you

🪨 You were always happy, praising your students. But, when the battle against the demons ended with the loss of multiple fellow Hashira and other slayers, the trauma of seeing your own student die in your arms, saying how much he loved you, just haunted you

🪨 Your husband had gone through similar pain, as he lost many children back at the orphanage he worked at when he was younger. So, he was an expert at handling this kind of pain

🪨 He would avoid certain topics when you were obviously more sensitive, but he would involve the story of your student time to time. He knew that you couldn't just run from the past, you helped him confront his past, and he knew he had to help you confront it

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Kyojuro Rengoku ═════════════════════════╝

❤️‍🔥 When Rengoku began healing up from his scrape-with-death during his mission on the Mugen Train, he was shocked to see you coming in soon with major injuries on you

❤️‍🔥 He sat up in surprise as Shinobu, Kanao, and Aoi began to wrap up your injuries rapidly, your breathing shallow as the three butterfly women carefully-yet-quickly fixed you up. Your husband was being held down by the triplets while you were healed

❤️‍🔥 It was only when you were stabilized that Shinobu told him what was going on. He was shocked to hear that you had lost your three students to an uppermoon, one of them being your adoptive brother, whom you raised since he was around 8 and you were merely 14

❤️‍🔥 Rengoku was saddened to hear that the barely 15-year-old passed, but he was even sadder for you. When you awoke, you asked him where the young boy was, and it broke his heart to see your face go from confused and innocent to pained and borderline-traumatized

❤️‍🔥 He understands the pain of losing someone close to you, he did lose his mother when he was young. But, due to his tiny-amount of obliviousness, he was rough at helping you with your PTSD at first

❤️‍🔥 Rengoku does get the hand of it in the end, as your pain seemingly lifted a bit after the final battle and the young Kamaboko squad, especially Nezuko and Tanjiro, survived and lived to see more days as humans and not the demons they were stuck as for a period of time

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Mitsuri Kanroji ══════════════════════════╝

💗 Mitsuri was very scared when she saw you get hit by Muzan, and she screamed your name as she got hit as well. It was only a few hours after nearly passing away in each-other's arms that you awoke to her hugging you closely with her one-remaining arm

💗 You leaned into her touch as you remembered seeing your precious student, the only one who survived the Final Selection in years, die at the hands of the now-deceased Demon King

💗 She was beyond sad to attend the funeral for your fallen friends. Mitsuri sobbed the hardest at the Hashiras, the Ubuyashikis, and your student's, she was so close to them all that it pained her to know that they were gone and you both were destined for death in a mere few years

💗 While yes, she was happy you wouldn't go through the mental pain of dealing with grief over your student, your wife hated just thinking of you leaving her earlier than planned

💗 She also is decent with handling your trauma, as she knows how to comfort someone excellently. Mitsuri would find you sitting awake at night, your head laying in your hands as you cried with a blank-face, and she would just hug you, allowing you to cry into her chest

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Obanai Iguro ════════════════════════════╝

🐍 Iguro was surprised to awaken without the ability to see, he could only hear you humming lowly while you ran your hands up and down his arm slowly

🐍 He wanted to know what happened right when he woke up, to which you just sighed and said you would tell him when he was more awake and aware of his surroundings, much to his annoyance. He couldn't see now, what was the point?

🐍 You finally told him everything, from the deaths of Shinobu, Gyomei, Mitsuri, etc. to the way you were injuried. But the thing that shook him up the most was how Mitsuri and your student passed away, dying while holding one another

🐍 Mitsuri always spoke to your student, viewing him as a younger brother, so hearing that the two died next to one another was shocking. And, since his hearing was a but more advanced, he knew almost everything that you would mumble under your breath, leading you to saying 'fuck it' to even trying to hide things from your husband

🐍 Iguro has his own trauma that he still struggles with, and with your own being layered on, it made him give in and ask to speak with the other remaining Hashira, that being Giyuu and Sanemi, and bring them with to talk to the Butterfly Mansion's girls to help deal with each of your struggles

🐍 It brought you all closer, and you all spent your final years being close, bonding over your survival and control you all worked hard to regain over your lives after the hard-earned battle. And while you all wouldn't tell anyone, you would all visit the graves of your fallen comrades to honor their memories, with you and your husband visiting the Love Hashira, your students, and fallen Master

🐍 He also wouldn't tell you outwardly, but he cries almost every time he lays his hand on the graves of his past friends, and those he considered family. Even with his past of abuse, which normally led others to not show emotion in fear of being hurt again, he just couldn't help letting his out while you hugged him and helped him around

🐍 Overall, since he has his own struggles and deals with both of your guys' pretty well, I'd say he would get a 8.5/10 with this

[anonymous-existences]

"The reminder of what was lost will always be heartbreaking."

My Hands may be trembling in pain and I might have become lazy and decided "let's not draw the bat", I am not very good with panel drawings tho i might try it now more often. Totally not rushed-

Anyways continuation Prompt of my first one just 2(?) days ago:

Danny would have been found by Bruce Wayne himself, as Batman ofcourse and he would've found Danny in a vivisection escapee type of way where he plastered his wounds. Bleeding out what seems to be "Lazarus Pits Water" but much purer in terms of visual, Danny as a 13-15 years old boy at the time would be be desperate to live, but too weak to beg for life. He loses consciousness just before he could speak to the big bat himself.

Batman is the man who would not let a child die and bleed out, or any people in need be it 'meta' or not. B would take Danny home to the Wayne Manor and into the bat cave where Robin Who is confused on who did his father bring home now would try to question but would hesitate as because Danny is obviously in great pain.

That's the first prompt of how he'd find the Danny of my first prompt. But for the art I've drawn it'd be more like this:

Barbara was curious on who the newly home bought baby bat is, coming unannounced and cooing over the little odd baby who seems very stunned seeing her.

In Danny Perspective all he sees is his late sister Jasmine Fenton making him tear up and be overwhelmed with grief and sadness as Nightwing tries to be big brother mode and comfort the little odd kid, Bruce unable to comfort because he doesn't know how to and he just tires to console Danny that everything is okay.

In that prompt I'd imagine Danny would be very close with Barbara and sees her as a big sister literally.

Seeing her brings him comfort and he slowly processes on how to move on from the grief of losing Jazz.

:)) hope you liked that prompt <33 although the art is not the best rn.

[in1-nutshell]

Hi, again! I want to try mixing Generations this time. This one have a human Buddy that is very tired and VERY done, but selfless human that keeps reincarnated to different Transformers universes everytime they passed away. They have no idea why this is happening - no idea what's causing this. Human Buddy is knowledgeable and very experienced of the Cybertronian wars. They are skilled at healing humans and Cybertronians. I have no doubt that there will be alot of confusion on how Buddy knew how Cybertronians work and why Buddy is never suprised about the Cybertronians existence. Everytime Buddy sees their Cybertronian friends counterparts for the first time, they looked at them blankly and say, "I'm getting too old for this.", despite they don't look old, Buddy can feel aging mentally. Characters - Bumblebee Movie: Bumblebee, Rise of the Beasts: Optimus Prime, Shattered Glass: Soundwave, Earthspark: Megatron, and IDW: Prowl. Please and thank you. Have a nice Day/Night.

Buddy is so tired of getting flung all over the place and occasionally gets scared by their friends new frames or universes rules.

Hope you enjoy!

Human Buddy gets reincarnated in different universe with Bumblebee from The Bumblebee Movie, RotB Optimus Prime, SG! Soundwave, TFE Megatron and IDW Prowl

SFW, Platonic, tiny bit of angst, Human reader

BB Movie/ RotB/ SG!/ TFE/ IDW

The Bumblebee Movie: Bumblebee

Bumblebee and Charlie were startled at the sudden 15-year-old at the opening of the garage door.

The kid looked at Bee then at Charlie before entering and closing the door.

Before Charlie could say anything, they introduced themselves as Buddy.

This introduction was one of the rockier ones that Buddy had to endure.

“Listen! I know this is going to sound weird, but Bee here—”--Buddy

“Bee?”--Charlie

“Well, his full name is Bumblebee—”--Buddy

“I named him that!”--Charlie

“Shush!”--Buddy

“Don’t shush me, you’re like 15!”--Charlie

Buddy slapping their hand on their face.

“This is going to take a while…”--Buddy

It took a bit to explain about their reincarnation to the two of them.

Charlie was a bit skeptical, but the number of details they were putting and the genuine concern they had for her and Bee seemed to put out the fears.

Bumblebee on the other hand, completely trusted this new human and what they said.

Sure, he was still trying to piece things from his past, but everything else seemed to check out.

He does try and ask Buddy the best he can about the other universe they had been a part of.

Buddy is sitting in Bee while Charlie takes a nap in her room.

Buddy gently pats Bee’s wheel hearing some sad whirls.

“You know… I knew a version of you who also didn’t have his voice box.”--Buddy

The whirls stop.

“He lost it to Megatron back on Tiger Pax. But he was one of the best scouts I ever met, and I’ve been around.”--Buddy

Buddy gently puts their head on Bees wheel.

“You’re doing a great job Bee.”--Buddy

Bee whirls happily making Buddy chuckle a bit.

Rise of the Beast: Optimus Prime

Buddy, now an 80-year-old, stood in front of the small group of Autobots, humans, and Maximal with their hands on their hips.

They honestly got worried for a second that they weren’t going to see any of their friends at this age they spawned in.

But just as they were taking a stroll by the docks and nearly got smashed by a flying tire, they found their family again.

“Hi!”--Buddy

Everyone freezes.

“I would have thought you took your whole ‘robots in disguise’ thing a bit more seriously Prime.”--Buddy

“… Who’s that?”--Mirage

Buddy adjusts their glasses a bit.

“…Mirage? Oh, it is you and—SWEET PRIMUS WHAT HAPPENED!?”--Buddy

Buddy hurriedly moves to Bumblebee’s fallen body.

Optimus tries to move in between them and Bee.

“Move it Prime! Let me look!”--Buddy

“How do you know my name?”--Optimus

“I’ll tell you if you let me look at your scout!”--Buddy

Optimus moves a side and lets Buddy take a closer inspection.

Mirage bends over to Noah and Elena.

“Are you guy’s psychic too?”--Mirage

“No!”--Noah

“No, I’ve just been tossed from dimension to dimension all the time and have picked up on a few things.”--Buddy

Mirage is about to say something else when Buddy throws a wrench at his helm without even looking.

“Learned that from Ratchet.”--Buddy

It was a bit harder to talk with this Prime than others they had the pleasure of meeting.

Mainly it was because of his wariness against humans, which Buddy completely understood and didn’t push Prime on the subject too much.

Optimus did ask from time to time about his other alternatives and how they fared in the war.

Buddy tried their best to tell him about the other Prime’s, but they did get upset when they saw him try and mimic some of their styles.

“Prime, we need to have a talk.”--Buddy

“About what exactly.”--Optimus

Buddy gesturing at him.

“You. This. All of this. You’re not acting like yourself.”--Buddy

“I am—”--Optimus

“I mean your authentic self. Listen, I know this is absolutely terrifying. I’ve been through this war almost, if not longer than you have. I lost count a long time ago.”--Buddy

“What—”--Optimus

“Shush!... Optimus, you shouldn’t have to change yourself to fit into a mold of another. You’re the best you in this universe and nothing is going to change that. You have a team, a growing family, that loves you for who you are. Don’t change that. Now, yes improvements are necessary here and there but that’s a part of growing up. So, stop trying to act like some one else and lets find out how to stop Unicron.”--Buddy

Optimus smiles at them tiredly.

“Thank you, Buddy,…”--Optimus

“Anyways you have a mellowed version of Primal on your side, if that’s not an added bonus I don’t know what is.”--Buddy

“A mellowed version?”--Optimus

Shattered Glass: Soundwave

Soundwave was moving some crates to the main room when something warm attached itself onto his pede.

He looked down to see a human hugging his pede.

“Umm… hi? How did you get in here?”--Soundwave

“It’s been a while since I’ve heard your voice Soundwave.”--Buddy

Soundwave looked at his cassettes who were just watching the interaction.

“…Who brought the elderly human to the base?”--Soundwave

“Hey, I’m just 60! I’ve been 104 one time.”--Buddy

“Excuse me you’ve been what.”--Soundwave

Once Buddy was through with the explanation again Soundwave was ecstatic.

He had heard of reincarnation before, but to see someone actually remember their previous lives was exciting!

He wants to know everything about his other alternatives and the outcomes of the wars. Maybe they could help them beat the Autobots once and for all and peace can finally be restored.

“So, you’ve met different versions of us?”--Soundwave

“Like I’ve said before, yes.”--Buddy

“So do you have a favorite?”--Soundwave

“Not really.”--Buddy

“Why?”--Soundwave

“… You have to let go of that thought if you want to stay sane for the next universe that needs you. It’s nice to remember but you can’t keep your head in the past.”--Buddy

“I’m… I’m sorry to hear that…”--Soundwave

“Its not all bad… it’s a pain to reintroduce yourself for the millionth time and earn trust and all. But if it means getting to have moments with my friends, from the ones who keep on dying to the ones who seem immortal, I’ll take it.”--Buddy

“I hope I’m your friend in the next universe you go to.”--Soundwave

Buddy looks at him sadly.

“I hope so too.”--Buddy

Earthspark: Megatron

None of the Autobots or Maltos were prepared to see the random 10-year-old stare at them wide eyed and drop their juice box as they ran over to Optimus and Megatron hugging their pedes.

“Finally! It’s been a while since I’ve seen a good Megatron!”--Buddy

“What?”--Megatron

“Who let a 10 year old in the base!”--Dot

Buddy taking notice of the new badge on Prime and Megatron before face palming.

“Primus… This is another shadow government things again…”--Buddy

This universe by far took the record for bots believing their story of reincarnation.

Buddy looks like they are going to pass out when they hear more about the Terrans as they are furiously scribbling things in their book.

Megatron does feel a bit weird that Buddy hangs out with him so much than the children or other Autobots.

He tries his best to refrain from asking about his alternatives…

But he does let one question slip out…

“You have met other versions of me who stayed with the Decepticons? How did—”--Megatron

“Terrible. Most Megatron’s I knew that went against Prime didn’t exactly end up with a happy ending. Not even in the universe were things were the opposite.”--Buddy

The what universe?”--Megatron

“Doesn’t matter now. I say you should focus more on what here with you now than the ‘what if’s’ and questions your alternatives did.”--Buddy

“Ohh…”--Megatron

“You have a lovely family and great friendship with Dot, Megs. The last god Megatron I knew didn’t have what you had, but the family he formed helped him have some sort of closure and redemption others tried to deny him.”--Buddy

Megatron gently pats Buddy’s head.

“You are wiser beyond your years Buddy.”--Megatron

“You get wiser when you’ve been doing this for years.”--Buddy

“…How long—”--Megatron

“Hey, look at that cow! Imma go touch it.”--Buddy

IDW: Prowl

Prowl had just got back to his habsuite with his new data pads when he saw a human child on his berth.

The child looked at him wide eyed with some tears prickly around.

Prowl scooping up the child.

“Who are you and what are you—”--Prowl

The child grabs his digits and hugs them as tightly as they could.

“You’re here… you’re here…”--Buddy

Prowl looked at them gently patting their back as they started crying.

“It’s been so long since I last saw you I was beginning to think that… Oh Prowl…”--Buddy

After Buddy was finally able to calm down, they explained their situation to Prowl.

Something that he refused to believe.

It wasn’t until Buddy pulled out the book with their notes that he realized they might be right.

Prowl is wary around Buddy, still plagued with the reminder of Spike Witkicky in his processor and keeps Buddy at arm’s length.

He is set on not getting attached to Buddy.

Too bad for him, Buddy has spent years knowing how to befriend Prowl’s for years and while they are a bit rusty, they know that it’s only a matter of time before they worm their way into his spark.

“Spike sucks.”--Buddy

Prowl freezes for a second.

“What are you talking about?”--Prowl

“Most Spike Witwicky’s, and most Witikcky’s, I’ve met in general are just the worse. There was this one universe where he brought SOUNDWAVE into the Ark after just getting attacked by him earlier that day!”--Buddy

Prowl snorts a bit while looking in disbelief.

“Are you serious?”--Prowl

Buddy looks at him in the optic.

“Like a heart attack.”--Buddy

“…are there more stories like that? Or about my alternatives reaction to that?”--Prowl

Buddy gives him a toothy smile.

“I swear when that Prowl found out he looked like he wanted to bang his helm on the table then flip it into oblivion.”--Buddy

[imaginaryf1shots]

My Girls (I) | Max Verstappen

Words count: 1009

Driver!OC X Max Verstappen

Summery: Cecilia Hansson daughter of a Swedish billionaire, a race car driver, with a dream of making it big in Formula 1. However she has a few secrets that may hurt her as women are disliked in the sport.

Series Warnings: cursing, child abandment, absent father, drinking, car accidents, Jos Verstappen, misogyny, Christian horner (tell me if i missed anything)

This is a sort of prequel, just to set the scene. I already have over 20K written for this.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Max Masterlist

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Young drivers

When they first met, they were 10 years old. A karting competition, a usual thing for both of them, they both won a fair amount, both getting used to winning. However when they lost each one of them dealt with it differently. Yes Cecilia had a better car, but that never stopped Max from winning before. 

The race started as normal, as always Cecilia overtook all those in front of her and reached P2, with only Max being in front of her, with practised ease she overtook the boy coming out of nowhere it seemed. The boy frowned and pressed harder his car touching hers, Cecilia felt her car jolt, not knowing Max but knowing how some of the guys liked to race, she started focusing on evading him and out racing him. It was close to the end of the race anyways. Max did try to push her car a few times but everytime she slipped away or he just barely touched her. 

His dad will have his head for this. 

Once the race finished they got out of the car, Cecilia doing the little dance she always did when she won. She saw her dad and her brother cheering for her on the side. Taking off her helmet just as Max was coming up to her, he wanted to see who beat him, she took out her braid from her suit and turned to walk to her family when she saw Max.

Yes, his dad will definitely kill him.

“Nice race.” Cecilia said with a laugh before she slipped away to her family, her dad lifted her up in celebration, she was laughing her heart out, enjoying the moment. While Jos just stared down the family and his son, he walked up to her car inspecting it.

“They either got a sponsor or a whole lot of money.” Jos grunted a disappointed look on his face, Max was hopeful that seeing the car would make his dad not mad or disappointed in him. “But that doesn’t mean you couldn’t have won.”

Shaking his head he left his son and walked away.

Cecilia, Max and Pierre were waiting for the podiums, standing together. Cecilia turned to Max and held out her hand.

“I’m Cecilia.” She had a smile on her face with her white teeth, antagonising Max unknowingly.

“Max..” Said and refused to shake her hand, Pierre rolled his eyes at Max’s antics and shook the girl’s hands so as not to leave her hanging. 

“It’s okay Cece that’s how Max is.” He told her in French, Cecilia shrugged and refused to look at Max for the rest of the day.

The years went on after that and the group of future F1 drivers ran into each other a lot. Nearly no month went by without them running into each other, finding out more about the other, whenever Charles, Max and Cecilia raced together the trio were always close on the track, one of them always won. Giving credit to Cecilia she always tried to be nice to Max, however as they went into their teens he always just ignored her or gave her one worded answers. His dad did not like her at all, he found out about her family and their connections, and he knew it beat his, even if he was an F1 driver at one point.

When Max won a race at 15 and Cecilia came in P2, she did what she always does.

“Congratulations Max, great race.” The female smiled at the now slightly taller male, at one point she was taller than most of the guys but it seemed like her growth slowed with time and theirs picked up pace. 

“Why do you always do that?” Cecilia was both surprised and confused, she had no idea what he was talking about. This is the first time he’s spoken more than two words to her in the past five years they’d raced together. Both of them had done well in their careers getting sponsored and moving up. 

“What do you mean?”

“You always congratulate me and wish me a good race, always happy even if you don’t win.” Max explained his brain can’t comprehend how she just always seemed so happy and content and wishing her rivals good races, he heard her and Charles sharing tips and ideas, helping each other out. It’s something that he found do foreign and unusual, it left him puzzled. 

“Why not? I love racing, being good is besides the point, yes I like it, I love when I win, but I would do it regardless of if I won or not.” The smile on her face fell a little, she too couldn’t understand why this wasn’t something that Max understood, her family valued fair play, they said if you rise then you should rise with the people around you and good competition always made you better, always kept you on your toes. “Besides, if you weren’t good then who would challenge me? I love challenges.”

“That’s stupid, you’re weird.” Max muttered under his breath, but Cecilia heard him loud and clear. All signs of her happiness went out the window, her smile fell off completely. Max was startled by the stark contrast, how her whole demeanour flipt in one second. Her shoulder hit his as she passed him, her arms crossed.

After that day and for the time they raced together, before he went into F1 and she got pregnant, Cecilia never smiled at Max again.

Did it bother him? Yes. she always smiled at all the other guys but never him. He was only 15 but he understood the moment she stopped trying to talk to him what he felt. He had a crush on Cecilia Hansson. The daughter of a swedish billionaire. The up and coming female driver, some people said that she’d soon have a position in F1, just give it a few years. He silently hoped that she did, he hoped she’d make it into F1. He loved racing against her.

Next ->

[phoenixinthefiles]

Wear My Love

Miles 42 x reader 💜...🖤🔗 (my first Miles 42! fic be gentle) @dolligent

There’s a Laffy Taffy wrapper about two feet ahead of you on the library floor, with sticky bits of the candy still in it. You can’t see the riddle but you can see the hearts scattered on the wrapper and the to-and-from tag on the front.

So many teachers handed out Valentine’s candy bags today, it was really sweet. DIdn’t help out the littering problem that so many students seemed to have. 

A sneaker came down on the discarded wrapper, a purple and black sneaker.

Miles stood in front of you with a confused look on his face.

“What are you doin?”

Zoning out so I don’t have to confront the reality of you hating my gift.

Obviously you don’t say that. 

“What are you doing standing on a candy wrapper instead of picking it up? That's not very eco-conscious.”

He gives you a flat look and you give him one right back until he smacks his lips and bends down to pick the trash up. He flips the wrapper around and smirks before looking back up at you.

“What kind of tea is hard to swallow?”

“I don’t know, what kind?” You ask with an eye roll.

“Reality.” He huffs a small laugh, because of course he doesn’t know how ironic that joke really is.

“That’s funnier than half the jokes you tell me, maybe you should start eating more Laffy Taffys.”

Like the mature 16-year-old he is, he throws the wrapper at you before sitting down.

You roll your eyes and crumble the paper up and stick it in your pocket. Presumably to throw away later but you would most likely forget. 

He keeps shifting in his seat and tapping his fingers on the table as you try to continue reading. You already can barely focus on your book not knowing if he’s seen your gift or not, now he’s decided to become a drummer. 

“Miles please.” 

“Yeah? Oh I’m distracting you, my bad.”

“It’s fine I couldn’t focus anyway.” You said as you turned slightly to slip your book back into your backpack.

“Y’know somebody dropped something into my locker?”

Your hand froze on your zipper, when you twisted to face him again Miles was watching you with his eyebrows raised.

“Really, what was it?”

He gave you a deadpan look and you sighed.

Your eyes widened when He started fiddling with the collar of his shirt before pulling out a silver chain.

You immediately started trying to get a read on him; eyes darting from the necklace to his eyes and back. Surely he likes it if he’s wearing it?

Right?

He doesn’t say anything though and you clear your throat. 

“Do you like it? You can be honest, it won't hurt feelings, I just want to know.”

It absolutely would hurt your feelings. More so from the thought that you had overstepped not that he didn’t like it.

Miles reached back and unclasped the dog tags from around his neck. He didn’t look upset, more like he was trying to figure out how to look. 

“I like it, I swear.”

Your breath doesn’t come rushing out of you, but the tightening in your chest loosens and you do take a deep breath. 

“I like it a lot. How’d you get all the information?’

“I asked your mom.”

It was surprisingly easy to find someone who makes custom dog tags. The hard part was psyching yourself up to ask Ms. Río about her husband’s birthday. It took you 15 tries in front of your mirror to come up with the least insensitive way to phrase your question.

It paid off though. Miles likes it.

10 months ago you would’ve thought he was completely unemotional about it.But over time you learned to read him a little better.

Right now he was fiddling with the dog tags and twisting his lips around. 

He was fighting a smile.

He lost the battle against his facial expression and a smile broke out on his face.

You matched it and let out a nervous laugh when he looked at you again. 

He huffed a small laugh and you tried to tame the grin that felt like it would split your face. 

“Thank you.”

You nodded a bit too quickly and you ignored the ache in your cheeks from smiling so hard and the warmth you started to feel in your face.

“You’re welcome, I'm just glad you liked it.”

He nodded and a little smirk took shape on his lips.

“Yeah I like it a lot. Just don’t know why somebody I’ve been dating for 10 months would slip a gift in my locker instead of just giving it to me.” 

Your eyes widened for a split second before you rolled them in an attempt to brush off your embarrassment. 

“I was just adding a layer of mystique.”

“Uh huh, or you was just scared.” He said with a shrug. 

You scoffed but he was dead on. 

“Me? Scared? You must have me confused with somebody else?” 

He rolled his eyes and slipped his hand into his jacket pocket.

You watched him pull out a small box and reach it across the table to you.

He rolled his shoulders back and forth as he watched you pick it up. 

Seems like you weren’t the only one scared.

“What is it?”

He deadpanned again, “What’s the point of telling you instead of you just opening it?”

You rolled your eyes and refocused on the gift.

Gasping as you opened the lid, you pulled out the locket necklace sitting inside.

You looked up at Miles and smiled.

“It’s so pretty.”

He smiled hesitantly and cleared his throat.

“Open it,” he rasped.

You did and your smile grew wider. Inside the locket was a sketch of you from the day you and Miles went to the arcade. It was the only one in the city with a full set of games that still worked.

“I haven’t drawn in a while y’know so…” He trailed off and rubbed the back of his neck.

You can count on one hand the amount of times you’ve seen or heard him talk about drawing something. You can also name everything he drew. Being able to add yourself to that list feels…amazing. 

Trying to calm yourself down and not embarrass yourself by doing something like leaping across the table to hug Miles, you run your hand along the chain of the necklace.

“I don’t know if I look as good as you drew me.”

When you look back up at him he’s staring at you with an expression that’s much too adoring for you to focus on.

“Nah you look better.”

You immediately looked back down at the necklace in your hands and ignored Miles’ snickering.

As you continued to run your fingers along the chain you noticed something and your lips quirk up.

“Did you make the chain yourself?”

He rolled his shoulders again, “It’s that janky?”

You shook your head and tried to match the way his signature smirk. 

“Nah, it’s that good.”

He immediately caught on and let out a small laugh.

“I see what you tryna do, but you just not as smooth as me.”

Your eyes roll again but you laugh a little too, “Whatever Miles.”

You stood up and took the few steps to his side of the table and turned your back towards him. He took the que and stood behind you, taking the clasp and leftover chain and securing it. 

When he finished, you turned to him smiling.

He smiled back at you and straightened his necklace around his own neck.

Before you could second guess yourself you took a step closer and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Happy Valentine's Day Miles.”

His arms came up around you and you could feel his chest heave.

“Happy Valentine's Day, mami.”

[archaeologysucks]

Yesterday I broke through a long-standing brick wall in my family tree, and was finally able to connect one of my ancestors with her parents and siblings, which is pretty damn satisfying. It was a case of women getting lost in the records when they remarry and change their names, which is unfortunately extremely common. I also got to add another wild story involving bigamy and legal turmoil to my family history, and that's always fun.

I knew a lot about my great-great-great grandmother Mary Emeline Brown (1833-1910), but unfortunately the earliest proven record I had for her was her marriage in 1848 at the age of about 15 to John M. Armstrong in Jerseyville, Illinois. This meant that on the earliest census record (1850) that lists every person by name, she was already married, with no clues about her family of origin.

All I knew was that her maiden name was the extremely common Brown, and that her death certificate named her parents as John Brown and Ruth Nelson, with no indication who had given that information or whether they knew it to be accurate.

There was a prominent Brown family in Jersey County, Illinois, however, and I was sure Mary was connected to them somehow, but I couldn't quite prove it. I knew where her husband's grandfather and uncle's land was, and where the Brown lands were, so I made a map to see if that would help. I was able to prove that the Armstrong lands lay on the same major roadway as those of a John Brown (1790-1872), a few miles to the east, and for a while, I thought that might be Mary's father.

The only problem? There was no Mary listed among this John's children, and no obvious gap she might have fit into. Also, his wife's name was Margaret Piper, which is not very similar to Ruth Nelson. Well, maybe Ruth Nelson was not John's wife. Maybe Mary was born out of wedlock. Such things weren't uncommon. Damned if I could prove it, though, without doing some complicated DNA work, or finding some court documents that stated her paternity.

For a long time, I was stuck there, at the same dead end my grandmother had arrived at when she first started working on our genealogy in the 1980s. Just about everyone who listed Mary on their family tree on Ancestry.com gave her parents either as this John Brown, without offering any corroborating evidence, or else simply as John Brown with no additional information at all.

Well, the other day, I decided to dig a little deeper. I went through every single family tree that included Mary, to see if I could find even one clue that might point me in a useful direction. And I found one: a single ancestry tree that listed Mary's parents as Vincent Brown (c. 1805-1834) and Elizabeth Wilson (1810-1892). And more importantly, the researcher had explained their conclusions, which is something surprisingly few people on Ancestry.com ever do.

When Vincent Brown died in about 1834, he left a wife and a few young children, but because he was a young man, he left no will naming his heirs. However, court documents for his estate mention a child with the initials M. E. Brown as one of his heirs. This is not proof, but ….

In 1839, when Mary would have been about 6 years old, Elizabeth Wilson Brown remarried to Jonathan Routh, whose surname some sometimes spelled Roth or Ruth. It's not impossible to think a later relative might have heard the name Grandma Ruth, wife of Jon, associated with Mary's mother, and assumed that was her first name, confusing Wilson for Nelson as her maiden name, and also assuming Jon was Jon Brown, since that was Mary's maiden name. This is also not proof, but ….

On the 1840 census, which only lists the head of household by name, with numbers for each sex and age bracket for all other household members, all the known children of Elizabeth Brown and Jonathan Routh (spelled Ruthe on this record) are accounted for, and one is a girl between the ages of 5 and 9, who could be Mary. This is also not proof, but ….

Jonathan Routh and Elizabeth had three more children, but he decided not stick around. In 1845, he left Illinois for Texas with no intention of returning, and he did not bother to grant Elizabeth a divorce first. In 1852, he remarried in Texas, and had several more children. He served in the Confederate Army during the Civil War and died in 1864. In 1871, Elizabeth sued his heirs in Texas for half of his estate, because she was still his legal wife. The case went to the Texas Supreme Court, and she was ultimately awarded 1/4 of his estate ($750) in 1883.

When Elizabeth Wilson Brown Routh died in 1892, her estate probate documents named all of her heirs, which at that time included many grandchildren, one great-grandchild, and one surviving daughter: Mary Ernest. By this time, Mary E. Armstrong had divorced my great-great-great-grandfather John M. Armstrong (and good for her, because he was a piece of work), and remarried to Albert Ernst, a man 20 years her junior who owned a brewery. Well done, grandma.

Is that proof that my Mary Emeline Brown Armstrong Ernst was the child of Vincent Brown and Elizabeth Wilson Brown Routh? Well, no, not really. But it is compelling evidence, and a strong lead that I can follow up on by digging deeper into Jersey County, Illinois court records, and looking into what became of her theoretical siblings for additional clues. Importantly, there is nothing here to contradict the idea that this was her family. I am fairly confident that this is them, and that it's only a matter of time before I can prove it definitively. I love solving historical mysteries and puzzles!

[justyouraverage-simp]

call me dad// tony stark

pairing: dad!tony stark x daughter!reader

warnings: mentions of injury, death of a parent, mentions of abortion, time jumps, shitty ending

summary: when tony first met his daughter she wanted nothing to do with him but when she thought she lost him she realises just how much he means to her

REQUEST

Being the child of a single parent is hard. But losing that parent is even harder. But what is even harder is finding out that the person you now have to live with is the one person who couldn’t have cared less about you in the past 15 years of your life. 

This is what happened to Y/N after her mother died. It was hard for her losing her mother but it was even harder when her case worker told her she would be living with her father over her grandparents as they believed they were not suitable to raise a child due to their age and health. Y/N had never met her father, she only knew about him because her mother would tell her stories of how they met and how everything was before his parents died, she would also use him as an example to her daughter on how to not be treated by a man, to show her daughter you can be successful and raise a child. 

//

Tony was stood in the living room at Stark Tower looking at the folder he had been given by Coulson when his phone rang.

“Hello”

“Hi, is this Mr Stark?”

“It is? Can I ask who’s calling”

“Of course, my name is Tia. I’m calling from Child Protective Services, it’s regarding your daughter”

“Umm, I think you have the wrong number. I don’t have a daughter” Hearing the word daughter caught Tony off guard, he doesn’t have a daughter there is no way he could. 

“Well do you know a Miss Stephanie Taylor?” That name. He hadn’t heard that name in over 15 years, of course he thought about her on occasion but not since Pepper. 

“Umm yes, why is she relevant”

“Well, I hate to be the one to tell you this Mr Stark but she passed away a few days ago and she has a daughter”

Tony was shocked to hear she had passed, but why was CPS telling him this. To say he was confused was an understatement. 

“I’m sorry but why are you telling me this I haven’t spoken to Stephanie for over 15 years”

“That’s the thing, she has a 15 year old daughter”

As soon as Tony heard those words he almost fell over, immediately he knew why they were telling him this but none of it made sense how the hell does he have a child…

//

“It’s only me honey” Tony called entering Stephanie’s flat that he had a key too. 

As Tony walked through the flat he was confused, normally as soon as he walks through the door he is being jumped on by his girlfriend but this time there was no sign of her. 

“Honey, where are you”

“I’m in the bathroom” He heard a small voice call out breaking slightly.

As he walked through to the bathroom the sound of sniffles and whimpers became slightly louder.

“Hey, what’s going on? What’s got my girl so upset” Tony said sitting next to Stephanie on the floor, causing her to rest her head on his shoulder.

“Tony, I’m pregnant” Stephanie said to him looking up at him slightly

“Oh, is that what’s got you all worked up, it’s going to be okay I promise”

“But I don’t think I want to keep it, we are too young, you’ve just lost your parents and we just aren’t ready”

“Breathe baby, it’s your body so you do whatever you need to do okay and I’ll be with you no matter what you choose” Tony said pressing a kiss against Stephanie’s forehead.

2 weeks later…

It had been 2 weeks since Stephanie had found out she was pregnant although she hadn’t decided what she was going to do about it. It’s such a big decision for the two of them. There was a part of Stephanie that wanted to keep the baby, she had always wanted a baby but just not right now, well it wasn’t planned to be right now. 

Stephanie walked into the party Tony had decided to throw for no reason but because he wanted a party which was very normal for him. Stephanie was wearing a deep red silk dress with a low back and a v-neck, and as she entered the room she was immediately looking for Tony. She needed to talk to him about their situation and it had to happen now she needed to get it off her chest. 

She turned the corner and saw Tony talking to a blonde women and before Stephanie could say anything he kissed the blonde. Stephanie felt sick, he was cheating.

She quickly left the party and rushed to the bedroom and packed her stuff up. She ripped a piece of paper out of a notebook she found a wrote this note on it:

Tony, 

I saw it all. I hope she makes you really happy, more than I could obviously. I’m leaving, I’m not going to sit back and watch as you convince her you love her more than anything in the world when I know for a fact you can’t love more than one person. Not really. That one person for you is you! 

Goodbye forever, 

Stephanie

//

Tony thought back to the moment he found the letter. He knew he screwed up badly but he also knew Stephanie and he knew she was stubborn and independent and there was no amount of words that could convince her to come back to him so he saved his breath and let her leave without a single word. 

He thought she had the abortion, she seemed so certain about it. If he had known about her he would have made more of an effort, actually been in Y/N’s life but instead she grew up without a dad and honestly it made her closer to her mum and grandparents because they stuck around but it also left her with some internal problems, it was hard for Y/N to trust people in case they would change so quickly just like her dad did and the thought of being alone scared her more than anything.

Tony agreed to take Y/N after the situation was explained by your case worker, it was either go with him or end up in the system and neither him or Pepper wanted that. She had agreed to help Tony raise Y/N and he wanted to be better, he felt lots of guilt already for not being around although he had known about Y/N for approximately 10 minutes but that was long enough. He had always said if he ever became a dad he would be more involved than his own father was but instead he was nowhere to be seen in Y/N’s life, it was almost as if she didn’t have a father at all. 

//

6 months later…

It had been an adjustment for Y/N to have a dad but to have that dad be Tony Stark was a completely different experience. Granted he was trying to be there for Y/N but with the current situation with Loki he wasn’t overly present, leaving Y/N in the trusted hands of Pepper and Happy. 

Both Y/N and Pepper were on the jet on the way to DC when they saw on the news that there was an attack on New York and of course Tony was there. The tension in the jet was felt by everyone, something pulled at Y/N’s chest although she wasn’t sure why as she had no major feelings towards her father he was just her responsible adult, he wasn’t her father, her dad, nothing. Just another man, she hadn’t even called him dad yet. 

She felt her phone vibrate in her lap which pulled her attention away from the TV, when she saw Tony’s name lighting up her screen. 

“Hello” Y/N said, confused as he was supposedly fighting Loki and his army. 

“Hey kid, look I need you to listen to me okay. I don’t know how much time I have left” Tony said.

“Yeah, um okay” Y/N said walking to the end of the jet away from the noise and other people.

“I’m sorry for not being there for you, I always promised myself I would be better than my dad but I ended up being just like him if not worse. If I could go back and try and find your mum before it was too late I would in a heartbeat. I wish I could have been there for all your firsts. These past 6 months have been amazing, you are going to do amazing things I just know it. I love yo…” Tony said as the line began to crack, eventually losing all signal. 

“Tony, Tony…” 

// 

3 hours later…

No one knew what actually happened that day, whether Tony survived the fall or not; they just awaited the teams return at Shield Headquarters. Both Y/N and Pepper were sat waiting in one of the empty offices when a car pulled up outside, without even seeing who pulled up the flashing of cameras from the paparazzi stationed outside the building told the two of them the Avengers were back. 

Both Y/N and Pepper rushed down to the foyer to see if he was there but they couldn’t see him. How had she gone from having a mum, then no mum to having a dad then having no one all in the space of a few hours. A few tears began to fall slowly down her cheek until she heard his voice. 

“Did you miss me?” 

Y/N rushed into Tony’s arms without even a second thought. There was slight confusion on Tony’s face, what had happened for Y/N to go from wanting nothing to do with him to now hugging him and crying in his arms. 

“I love you dad” Y/N said quietly

Tony was gobsmacked. He never once expected to hear those words come out of her mouth but he loved it nonetheless. 

“God, I love you too kid” Tony said holding his daughter close for the first time feeling content for the first time in years.

[angeljeonjk97]

Body Work || Bell #4

Jungkook x reader

friends to lovers

18+ (fluff, smut)

warnings: mentions and descriptions of violence, mentions and use of drugs and alcohol

Jeon Jungkook is not the same 19-year-old boy you used to know. Fame has really matured him, in more ways than one.

“You already know how I like it baby”

A knock at the door makes your head shoot up from the ramyeon bowl you were lost in that sat on the small marble island in the middle of your small kitchen.

When you put your left eye up to the peephole, a blonde-haired, slim man and an excited Kiri stood there, beaming a huge smile, waiting for your face to appear from behind the door. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, wondering why two of your best friends are knocking on your door...you glance at the small, silver clock on the wall beside you... 9:24 pm.

You reach for the lock, turning it to open your door to the people who are standing on your doorstep looking like two frantic little, wide-eyed puppies.

"Hey?" you chuckle, confused as your eyebrows remain in the same furrowed expression, "why are you guys here?"

"Are we not allowed to visit our good friend to check on her?" Jimin acts offended.

Before you can respond, the two of them are already pushing their way past you. You sigh in defeat, clicking the door behind you as they both slide off their shoes and strip their coats from around their shoulders.

"You're both obviously not here just to see me" you chuckle, watching them both rush to hang their coats up, "you look like a pair of kids who've just been told they're going to Disneyland"

"Okay okay okay, come sit" Kiri spits out, a smile still plastered on her face, as she grabs your wrist pulling you to your sofa, Jimin following closely behind.

Once all three of you were sitting, Kiri and Jimin both facing you, sitting opposite you, Kiri takes both of your hands into hers. You stare intently at them, your face still in pure confusion.

"Guess who's back in town?" She asks almost too eagerly.

As soon as you heard those words, you already had a feeling where this conversation was about to go and who Kiri is talking about, but you give both of them the benefit of the doubt. They know that you're over that whole... situation, and don't plan on getting sucked back into it again. Your face relaxes a little, hesitant to even ask.

"Who?"

"Namjoon!" Jimin exclaims, unable to keep his excitement in any longer.

Kiri flicks her head around to Jimin, giving him a disapproving expression, not expecting him to be the one to say it.

Your expression practically falls off your face, as your stare flickers between the pair, expressionless.

Kim Namjoon is your older, kind of ex-boyfriend from two years ago. You two were never officially boyfriend and girlfriend but were dating each other and no one else. You weren't ready for a committed relationship at the time and didn't want to jump into something you weren't even sure you wanted yet. He's a lot older than you, 6 years older to be exact, very intelligent, very attractive, successful, understanding, gentle, and basically everything you'd possibly want in a man. 

You met when you had a holiday job at a cafe 15 minutes away from your apartment where you used to work with both Kiri and Jimin, who still have part-time jobs there. He was a regular there, so regular that you remembered his order off by heart in the 2 and a half months you worked there, you still remember the order even now, a medium white latte with almond milk and a warm blueberry croissant every Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday. 

You thought he was good-looking from the minute he walked through the glass, wooden framed, cafe door wearing a beige trench coat, black suit trousers complimented by dark brown loafers and a white button up that was hardly visible with his coat and thick plaid scarf that wrapped around his neck, and he thought the same for you. 

The attraction to each other became very obvious when you two would start talking at the desk and wouldn't realise you were holding up the line with your very flirty conversations and your co-workers would push you onto the till when they would see him come in. Eventually, on a Friday morning in early December, he asked for your phone number and everything flourished from there. He was perfect, everything you could ask for, but one day after a while of seeing each other, he just left the country, not telling you why or where to, just leaving you with an "I love you" text.

 You cried for weeks after it, even in front of Jungkook a few times, not understanding what went wrong, what you did wrong or why he didn't tell you why he was leaving. He was your first love, even though you never said it to his face, you loved him, and you know that he loved you too. You got over him and the whole thing eventually though, and don't plan on ever seeing him again. Or so you thought 

"Oh." is all you can let out, the name flashing you back into all the memories.

"He came to the cafe this morning, asking for you" Jimin declares, still with those wide ecstatic eyes, as he scans your face to read your emotions, "he misses you,"

You close your eyes, relaxing your shoulders a little, slipping your hands out of Kiri's," No. No. I told you, I'm done with all that"

"I thought you still loved him?" Kiri tilts her head slightly with a worried but confused expression.

"I told you, I'm over it"

"But y/n, he was perfect. It won't hurt to try again" Jimin shrugs, unsure as to what your response will be.

"But it will Jimin, just like last time," you get up off the sofa, about to walk to the kitchen," I'm not gonna be left behind with nothing like last time"

The other two follow closely behind, Kiri's voice projecting from behind you,

"You haven't dated since though, and I think this is a great opportunity"

"yeah you think it's a great opportunity, I don't. I don't want to see him ever again." you throw a cabinet open, pulling out a bottle of wine, along with a glass.

Kiri and Jimin stand in the doorway, looking at each other, regretting bringing him up.

"Is that all you guys came here to do? remind me of him?"

"No of course not, but he gave us his new number," a ripped-off corner of a piece of paper is pulled out of Kiri's pocket and put out in front of your face, "think about it. He misses you, a lot and wants to talk to you"

You sigh in defeat, practically ripping the piece of paper from between Kiri's fingers, seeing a flash of a set of numbers inscribed on it.

'Wow the ripped corner of a notebook really shows how much you care' You think to yourself quickly scanning the scrap piece.

Kiri spreads her arms out to wrap them around your frame, embracing you in a hug, "You don't have to, but think about it"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You play with the scrumpled-up paper in your fingers, observing the numbers written on it, contemplating everything. Lost in your own thoughts, you jump at the sudden thud on the black counter caused by a tattooed hand slamming down in front of you.

You look up, tucking the paper back into your jean pocket, "Jesus Kook. You could've just said hi or something" You smile at him, letting him know you're not being serious.

"You still would've jumped, considering how in your head you just were," Jungkook takes a seat on the stool opposite you. His bare forearms resting on the surface in front of you both, "You alright?"

You let out an exasperated sigh, thinking whether you should tell Jungkook about your kind of ex coming back or not.

It was very obvious Jungkook never liked Namjoon, despite never actually meeting him, even when you were both 'dating'. You know he'll just get annoyed, angry or throw the number away, which is probably the best thing to do but you have been genuinely considering talking to him again, and you need an unbiased opinion. At the same time though, you hate lying to JK or even being a little dishonest with him. It's not how trust is kept between you two, he can also read you really well, meaning you can never really hide your actual feelings about something or someone from him.

"Namjoon's back," You blurt out, exhaustedly, as if you hadn't slept a wink the previous night, well, because you hadn't.

Jungkook just stares at you with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape," Please don't tell me you're actually thinking about him right now," his head tilts to the side a little, like a puppy, his brow now slightly furrowed.

Your silence and lack of eye contact in return is enough for him to know the answer.

He throws his head back, his crown almost touching his shoulder blades, as he lets out a small groan.

"I know, I know, it's probably not the best thing for me to be thinking about right now, but-"

"No, it just isn't the best thing to be thinking about. No probably, it simply isn't. You can't be seriously thinking about talking to that asshole again after he left you for absolutely no reason." Jungkook cuts you off, a stern look now plastered over his face.

You squeeze your eyes shut in frustration but also regret, knowing that this would be his response, and you should've kept your mouth closed.

"Was that piece of paper something to do with it?"

"What piece of paper?" you reply defensively. You were hoping he didn't notice it or see you fiddling with it previously.

He gives you an expression full of disappointment and knowing, causing you to roll your eyes and give in, "It's his number new number"

"Oh, so he changed his number after leaving too? proves how much he wanted to keep in contact with you," the snarky remark doesn't phase you as you know it's just him trying to make a point to you. You hate that he's right.

"I know but Kiri said he wants to talk about it, I just want closure," you softly admit to him, a slight bit of guilt in your body language, even though you're telling the truth, and aren't actually thinking of seeing Namjoon romantically again, or even talking to him ever again after getting closure.

The doe-eyed man stares at you with a shocked expression before loudly exclaiming, "Kiri? How does Kiri know?"

You realise you fucked up again by mentioning Kiri unintentionally.

"He came by the cafe asking for me" the regret on your face grows continuously, "Please just let me think about this"

Jungkook sighs again in defeat, deciding to just trust you and your word, "Alright but if you meet with him, I'm taking you there and picking you up."

You almost go to argue with him, but know that really he's just doing this for your own safety, and because he cares about you. He knows if it goes wrong and you get upset you'll cry and run back to your place, and not come out for days, so if he's there to see you up afterwards, he knows you won't have to suffer alone. He just wants to be there for you. You know that, even though neither of you have verbally said to each other how much you care about one another, you both know that these little acts are out of care.

"What about your training though?" You query, thinking about his career before he even considered it as an obstacle 

"I'll take a rest day that day," he says it like it's nothing, giving you a little shrug. Like it won't probably take him a week to convince his trainer for a potential extra rest day.

After a few minutes of bickering back and forth, you give into Jungkook's stubbornness and his charms allowing him to come with you if you even meet Namjoon again. 

You truly have been thinking about it too much and don't actually know what you want. You're head knows that seeing him again probably isn't the best for your emotions considering it took you so long to get over him and seeing his dimples when he flashes sweet smiles at you, might just send you into a spiral again, but your emotions are basically screaming at you to get closure, and to just be in his presence again. Even though you've grown slight resentment for him, you can't bring yourself to fully hate him. Afterall, its not like you ended on bad terms, or good terms really. 

I mean getting closure won't hurt you. 

<-prev-index-next->

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

a/n: A late happy holidays to everyone, but I hope you all had a really good time with whatever you celebrate. I can't wait for what 2024 has in store for us all. CANT WAIT FOR JIN AND HOBI TO BE BACK IN 2024 TOO!!!! Anyways thank you again for reading, I hope you're enjoying the series so far. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter so I hope its received positively

Taglist: @yunki-yunki-yunki @hellbornsworld @tatamicc @idkijustlovebts @00frenchfries00 @yoonbicoolest @junecat18

[sturniccz]

Pretty boy

Chris Sturniolo smut. If you dont like it, leave.

slightly inspired by a request i received, but not fully because im not comfortable writing the full request, this is what yall get😭😭💕

Warnings: nothing crazy tbh, mommy kink, sumbissive chris, slight age gap, oral, fem receiving, swearing, lmk if i missed anything!

not proofread, feel free to send requests!

___________________🎀__________________

Being best friends with your older brothers, coworker does have its perks, but at times like these, when all Chris wants to feel is love, He swears he would do anything. He has never really been into relationships, or any kind of love feeling other than the love he has for his family, but as for y/n, Justin‘s coworker at his new location for his job, he has discovered a new feeling that he has never felt before, which somehow scares him.

Every time he’s with Justin, y/n is there also. After a significant amount of time of knowing each other, they have grown to be very close with each other, regardless of their age gap. With Chris being freshly 20 years, old, and Laila, being 25, it almost feels illegal to have such feelings for her. But he didn’t care, all he wanted was to make her feel good. Thats what she deserves.

Another night crept upon Chris and he cant help but feel the absence of her not being in the house like usual. After some thought, he decided to send her a message politely asking her to come over. Regardless of her being so hesitant, he insisted, and eventually she caved.

After about 15 minutes there was three soft knocks at the front door, and Chris quickly jumped up, walking to the front of the house to greet her. He was excited, and it was obvious from the slight tent in his sweatpants.

“Hey Chris, how are you doing? Why did you want me to come over so late?” she breathes. “Its only 10,” he replies, “and plus im your favorite co-workers little brother, right?” he asks, only half serious, trying to keep a conversation going. “Well, I suppose I dont know any boys better than you.” She chuckles.

This caused Chris to freeze. He began to get lost in his thoughts, staring at her as she makes her way into the kitchen, grabbing herself a drink and getting comfortable on the couch. Chris makes his way over to sit next to her, noticing that she’s significantly keeping her distance from him.

“Do you wanna watch a movie?” she quietly suggests, almost as a way to erase some of the deafening silence between the two. “U-uh sure, you can pick.” He stutters. She chuckles at his remark. “You sure you’re alright pretty boy?” she laughs, an inside joke, of course she didn’t mean it whenever she calls him pretty boy, but she is completely unaware of the affect it has on the boy. Physically.

“Yeah it’s nothing just put on whatever you want” he says, trying his best to just end this painfully flirty conversation in fear of her noticing his boner.

Not even ten minutes pass by and Chris can’t seem to keep his eyes off of her. She’s so gorgeous its almost unreal, as if shes a genuine angel that got lost on the way to heaven. Her hair is so perfect the way it rests across her shoulders, and the way her necklace looks laying against her collarbones. He could look at her forever, but he couldn’t, he might just die from getting so horny.

“Alright why are you staring at me? Do i have something on my face?” She snaps, not meaning to startle him, but still coming across as angry. He loved it.

“No, sorry.” He breathes as he reverts his attention back to the film on the screen. Less than ten seconds later he’s staring again. “Alright Chris stop doing that.” She says, using the same tone as before and somehow getting even deeper under his skin. “O-okay, i’m sorry,” he says looking into his lap, “i just think you’re pretty.” he finishes. “You think im pretty? Chris you’ve hardly ever spoken to be before why are you telling me this?” she questions, slightly confused and slightly turned on. “I just wanna make you feel special, wanna show you love, wanna be good for you. Am i good for you?” he blurts out, hardly thinking.

She is completely stunned by his words, but chooses to play along, with the boy now laying his head and shoulders in her lap. “Of course. You’re good for me Chrissy, always.” she says looking down at him, playing with his hair. “Do you wanna show me how good you can be? Show me how much you love me, baby?” she says as he slowly sits up, looking at her in the eyes. “Y-Yeah? You mean it?” he asks, a bit hesitant about what he had said. She nods.

“Be a good boy for mommy and touch me, yeah?” She is completely in control. Chris is practically at her mercy at the moment, and he is fucking loving it. Chris lets out a small whine as he begins trailing his hand down her torso, stopping just above her waistband. He looks at her for a nod pf approval one last time before finally making his way down her body.

After quickly removing her leggings, he leaves a long trail of wet, open mouthed kisses from the crook of her neck all the way down to her panties. He licks a stripe from the bottom to the top of her pussy over the pink, lace fabric, stopping right at her heat. Her hand slowly makes its way to his hair, slightly pushing down. “Go ahead baby, show mommy how much you love her.” She’s good at this. Really fucking good. So good that Chris begins riding the fabric of the couch he was previously sat on, trying to get any amount of friction he could.

He loved eating pussy. So much so that he didn’t even consider any foreplay, he went straight in, tongue fucking the older girl, looking straight into her eyes. “Oh fuck, Chris! God your mouth is amazing-“ she cuts herself off with a moan as he slips a finger into her. “God- Fuck, Chris!” she moans biting her lip. “Good boy, baby, such a good boy for me. Keep going baby you’re doing so good-“ she says looking down at him as he lets out a guttural moan at the names.

Chris is a slut for praise. Her fingers curled in his scalp as he adds another finger, in hopes of getting more praise from her, now curling upwards. “Fuck, yes right there! Oh god-“ she says arching her back. Chris removes his mouth, replacing it with his thumb temporarily. “You’re so pretty mommy, I can never get enough of you.” he says leaving kisses to the inside of her thighs before returning to her heat. “Fuck Chris- Im gonna cum! Gonna cum on your fingers, yeah, baby? You gonna be a good boy and l-let me cum on your hand?” she says stuttering and arching her back. He nods in agreement, remaining eye contact before her eyes squeezed shut and she threw her head back. Letting out the sluttiest moans and whimpers, she finally finishes on Chris’ fingers, watching as he pulls them out and placing them into his mouth, sucking off the juices.

“God thats hot.” she admits. “You calling me a good boy is hot for fucks sake.” he breathes. “You want me to take care of you?” She asks, looking at the obvious bulge in Chris’ sweats. “No, I just wanna sleep. M’tired” Chris says before snuggling into her space between her neck and her chest. “Okay Chrissy, you get some sleep. You did good for me, love.” She says as she watches his breathing steady and him slowly drift off into a deep, very much needed sleep.

Lmk if you want to be removed from my tag list, ive just composed a few people like my mutuals etc

Tags: @daddyslilchickenfingers @apclyptc @byerreddue @chrisenthusiast @christophersfilm @ciarasturn1 @christinarowie332 @lovingmattysposts @mangosrar @oversturn @plasticferal @recklesssturniolo @softsturn @sturnsbaby @sturniolosluvv @sturniscz

[smallbutters]

Sickly Bodies - Michael Myers x Reader

Content Warnings - Stalking , mentions of suicide, murder (duh), uuuh michael myers is a warning alone lol

Notes - Minors DNI PLEASE, fluff but also murder, SFW, no specific pronouns or gendered terms used :))

Eyes of the devil.

Black, soulless voids behind them, devoid of all humanity.

Ever since he was transferred to the Sanitarium, Michael has been referred to and treated as a being of pure evil - a blight upon this world. How would Dr. Loomis react now, to the situation Michael finds himself in?

A body lies in his house, in his bed, and for once it hasn’t gone cold, the heat of life still flowing through it.

You.

Sick as all hell, writhing in pain as whatever illness you have beats you into a pained, sluggish version of your normal self.

Michael stands aside the bed, making no movement.

He watches you, for a while - rolling back and forth occasionally, groaning in pain all the while.

When you finally become aware enough to notice that you aren't alone, you look up to his mask and give a meek smile. Michael isn't a comforting person, he never learned how to be or even received any himself, but something in you knows that this is his attempt at it.

"You don't have to stand here, you know."

You get no response.

A few seconds of silence pass as you close your eyes, letting out a slow, shallow breath.

"This will pass, it might take a bit longer since you don't have any medicine in the cabinets, but I'll be just fine soon enough..." You trail off.

You are once again met with silence.

It doesn't take too long for you to succumb to the exhaustion and fall asleep, your body being completely drained from fighting off this virus. You don't know how long Michael stayed there, or if he even was there after you finished talking - for such a big body, he's incredibly quiet.

Unbeknownst to you, he stayed, unmoving, for a good half an hour after you drifted off.

He was planning on going out tonight - a frat house down the street has been too rowdy lately, and losing a few members would likely get them to quiet down (you had been bothered by the noise lately, but that isn’t why he’s going for them) But leaving you here alone, sick and in pain seemed to hurt his cold heart.

Why?

If you posed an obstacle for him and his goals, he really should just kill you. You two have been together for a few months now, in a sort of problem-and-problem-enabler type situation - you provided him a place to stay at your half-used apartment, food, and company (an attempt at it, at least), and Michael provided with a sense of safety as your behind-the-scenes guard dog, and an odd sense of pride knowing you’ve, to an extent, tamed the beast terrorizing Haddonfield.

Michael isn’t stupid, not in a general sense. While he had been in a mental institution for the past fifteen-odd years, he's killed dozens of people by now and never got even remotely close to being caught. He’s just a little socially confused. He’s been treated like the devil itself for the past 15 years of his life, so your kindness, let alone your peaceful coexistence with him is somewhat lost to him. Even the night you met had been something he’d never thought he’d let happen.

You had been taking pictures of the old Myers house a few months back, just after sunset. There was enough light for you to see, but with every photo you took that was getting more and more difficult. You had walked here by yourself, which you quickly began to regret - you could hear quiet(ish) shuffling coming from the side of the house, and it definitely wasn’t getting further away. You obviously knew of Michael, everyone did - but August was much earlier than he’d ever returned, and you knew some local teens had taken up pretending to be him just to get a scare out of people. At first you thought you’d just get a little spooked and laughed at, then be able to head home safely, but apparently impersonating a killer doesn’t sit well with said killer. 

The two impostors were killed with ease and a lack of ceremony, and you were quickly thrown into the house. You thought the last thing you’d ever see would be that infamous pale white mask looking into your eyes, but it wasn’t. You saw the eyes behind it - the man, the human. In complete honesty, neither of you knew why what happened next turned out the way it did. One moment you were pinned against the wall by the real Michael, the blood from the two imposters staining both your clothes. Then all he did was let out a loud huff before stalking away. The man who never left someone alive let you, of all people, live.

In the coming months you began to spot him near your apartment and - seemingly - following you around town. You were smart enough not to tell anyone, as you knew he’d disappear before anyone else could spot him and you’d wake up to a pool of your own blood and live out your last moments from a betrayal-fueled, merciless kill. From then on you had learned to interpret his non-verbality, which lead to an eventual fucked-up kind of kinship. You never tried to get him to stop what he does - to “fix” him. He appreciated that. With time he began to enjoy, even desire your company, and even went as far as allowing you to see who he was under the mask.

Getting to the location was easy enough - it was dark as all hell outside in the early December nights, and no one wanted to leave the safety and comfort of their homes. Especially since the small town had just been visited by the infamous boogeyman. Except, seemingly, the exact house he had his sights on. Perhaps it was just a lapse in judgement by a house full of drunk, intelligence-deprived party goers, but perhaps they thought one escaped asylum serial killer wouldn’t be able to survive against all of them. Either way, they left the side door unlocked. Entering the house, Michael quietly stalked around the trash strewn about - it seemed like a party had just concluded, which meant it was very likely that everyone in the house was dead asleep from over drinking. Easy targets.

It didn’t take long for Michael to be almost completely alone in the frat house. His ability to quietly stalk through it was really put to the test however, as the house was absolutely filthy. He could smell, even through his mask, the stink of cheap alcohol, smoke, and something that he’d be alright with never fully identifying. The ground was almost completely littered in something that looked like discarded clothes, with various kinds of large stains just about everywhere - for once maybe he’d actually be the good guy by killing whoever made this mess.

Finding said filth was pretty easy, people were asleep on the floor, on couches, piled together on beds. He saw two bodies sharing a bed, one draping an arm over the other, their hand being held by the other. He thought of you - your warmth finally allowing him to get some real rest at night. How you were never scared of his large hands, never seeming to care about the blood that can’t be washed from them. How you also seemed to sleep better in his presence, sometimes waiting up for him to even get to bed.

You better not be doing that now.

That room took him a bit longer to get through.

The last room was on the eastern side of the building, the master bedroom. Only a few people were in this room, two piled on the bed and one asleep face-down on the floor, lying in a pool of… something. Michael had gotten rid of two of them before he noticed how the only window of this room was perfectly facing your old apartment. You had been splitting time between there and the old Myers house ever since that night, but the knowledge that anyone in this house could have seen you through that window made his blood boil. He can’t stop you from interacting with people; he had enough common sense to know that you had to work and get money to sustain yourself and get whatever you thought Michael needed as well, and that a good person like you needed more than just a serial killer for company (much to his dismay). However, he absolutely could stop people from going to you first. As he stood over the last soon-to-be-corpse, panting from the adrenaline, he came up with a plan.

Michael had always made his kills swift and brutal, leaving no room for anyone to think it wasn’t his work. But tonight, he changed it up a bit. He woke the last victim up, quickly grabbing him from behind.

“Wha…what?”

The poor boy was barely conscious as Michael put the knife into the other’s hand, using his own to guide him to slit his own throat. Of course, there was a slight struggle, but having a hangover and fighting against a killing machine worked against the last man’s favor, and the knife glided across the skin, breaking through with a steady trickle of blood. He fell to the floor in a position of apparent suicide, and Michael then got to work. He wanted it to seem that this poor boy had lost his mind and killed every member of the afterparty he had hosted himself, all because of an obsession with the person across the street - you. Michael staged the scene by changing the boy into his overalls (plenty of stupid people had been impersonating Michael, no one would think it was actually his.) On a piece of paper, he wrote down your typical schedule for any given week - no, he did not memorize it, and he certainly didn’t repeat it to himself like a mantra when he needed to focus. Don’t be stupid. To anyone who’d see the scene, it would look like an obsessed maniac realized you were out of his grasp, lost his mind, killed all his friends and then himself. The police would likely put together that you were his target, and they would likely question you, but Michael knew you wouldn’t say anything. If anything, you’d probably assume they meant him, and would be absolutely shocked when it would be revealed to be someone else. Maybe you’d put together that it was all an elaborate ruse from Michael. 

Maybe you’d thank him.

Michael stole a change of clothes and left, leaving the knife as proof of the crime clearly not committed by him, a small bottle of cold medicine he found on the nightstand rattling in the pocket of his pants.

As he expected, the house was quiet when he returned. Well maybe not expected, but that’s what he wanted to greet him. He hated when you stayed up for him, as if you were an old married couple (deception and avoidance was his game, it was only a matter of him before he fell victim to it himself). You were his captive, and would likely end up being his victim too (deception). There was no love in his heart, in this home, anywhere close to him. He’s a killer, and only a killer (avoidance).

So why do his hands twitch when he thinks of you? Why does his body move on its own, craving your warmth and touch?

You were still asleep when he got to the bedroom, breathing shallow. He set the medicine bottle on the nightstand closest to you, going into the bathroom to make sure he was free from any blood before he joined you bedside. The dip in the mattress woke you up enough for you to open your eyes to see a bottle of cold medicine left for you (don’t mind the dark red smear on the label).

“Thinking of me even during a bloodbath?”

You sat up and took two of the small pills, washing them down with the glass of water you had gotten earlier in the night. When you laid back down, you were pulled into the grasp of your oh-so-thoughtful killer. You felt his face nuzzle into your hair with an uncanny tenderness- wait. His face? Like, the actual one?

“Your mask- where is it?”

He opted to not respond, instead pulling you further into his chest. You quietly hummed, too tired to press it any further. You reached back and grabbed his hand and pulled it close, right on top of your heart.

He huffed in response.

[slutforsnow]

As an apology for being dead as hell, i would like to provide this one-shot/oc fic of Billy the Kid from the TV drama series.

A Pretty Girl Playin' With The Big Boys

Inspired by Diva and Beautiful Liar

CW//saloon fight, western time period, poker, mild sa (like almost touches but nothing more), implied sh00ting threat, Billy is his own warning for being so hot, mentions of abusive ex, rape mention

She smiled to herself as she watched her brother Jesse play poker as she took a shot of whiskey sittin' in her chair like the cowboys so one caught sight of a woman planning to get in on the next game. What she didn't notice was that a man, around 2 years older than her, was watching her as he played. His gaze seemed predatory and observant as he played-like he didn't really feel like focusing on the game.

He took a shot of his whiskey as he showed his cards, and Jesse slowly set his down. He lost, and he looked pretty pissed about it. He frowned, clenching his jaw. He half-expected it but had some hope that'd bring home somethin' to his ma and Joe since Henry was injured. As Billy got up from his seat and place his hat on his head again, he noticed an oddly small cowboy take the seat that his opponent, Jesse, had been sittin' in as Jesse gathered his winnins.

"She's gonna get herself found out," Jesse murmured laughin' to himself. Billy snapped his head to Jesse, his brows furrowed in confusion.

'She? She who?' The brunette thought before turning his gaze to the mysterious she at the poker table. She had put a rather large sum of money on the table, causing Jesse to raise his brows, surprised. "She never bets that much."

'She's a regular poker player?'

As the game proceeded, the mysterious she kept quiet, only making noise to clear her throat or move away from one of her opponents that seemed off and tried to lay hands on her more private areas.

Billy kept a frown on his lips as he watched her discomfort, but every moment he went to go shove a man off her, she'd shoot him a glare as if to say 'if you expose me, I'll shoot you.'

As the game came to a close, she smirked, gathering her winnings as she won more than Jesse. The other men bet more in this game than the last one and were surprised to lose a quite hefty amount. The men were genuinely shocked, thinking they lost to a 15 - or 16 year old boy. One man, however, looked pissed and as the mystery girl began to stand after pocketing her winnings, he grabbed her arm pulling her down to the table, knocking her hat off and letting her lustrous curls unfurl from her messy bun that was tucked neatly under her hat. The curls fell around her face, and one strand fell in front of her face. Smiling awkwardly, she stayed still.

'Well shit,' She thought, freezing as the man froze. The gambler lost to a woman, and he was furious. A WOMAN beat his ass in poker, a men's game.

The saloon was dead silent as the sound of her hat hit the ground seemingly echoed.

"Now, sir, there's no need to violent its just poker," She said, trying to wiggle her arm free, only for the man to tighten his hold. 'Okay, maybe I'll need Jesse for this,' She thought, glancing to her brother and his friend.

"You beat me in my game. No one ever beats me," the gambler growled, grabbing his gun and bringing it to her temple. The man's words sent Billy's mind to the night Carlos was shot for winning and for being Mexican. He wasn't having a repeat of that. Before he could think, Billy spun his gun out of the holster, shooting the hole through a broken window, hitting an old crate which exploded due to the force of the bullet hitting such a delicate and old thing.

The sound grabbed everyone's attention, even the gambler who dropped his gun in surprise. The saloon was still in silence, watching Billy's next move.

"Let her go," He said, moving his gun and aiming it at the man's head. The mystery woman smirked in approval of Billy, liking how he was handling it. "I don't wanna have to kill you, so just let her go."

Out of pure fear, the man dropped his gun and let go of her, causing her to fall onto the floor with a hard thud.

Standing up, she brushed the dirt off her jeans and grabbed her hat, swiping the dust off.

"Gentleman," She commented after a moment of silence and bowing, exiting the saloon with Jesse behind her and Billy behind both of them.

As the three walked in awkward silence, she put her hat on, ignoring the stares from other women at her boyish appearance, aside from her cerulean eyes and ginger locks that had been pulled into a braid down her back.

"I suppose I should thank you," She uttered, smiling towards Billy and turning to walk backward, now following Jesse based on the sound of his footsteps.

"'S nothin'," Billy told her, shrugging as he walked behind her, but noticing her bruised arm as she pulled her over shirt off to check on the bruise. "You gonna be okay?"

"Oh I'll be fine," She answered, shrugging off his concern. "This ain't nothin' compared to my last man."

"Last man?" He repeated, staring at her puzzled. "What happened to him?"

"Jesse ran him out of town for trying to marry me while I was seventeen. Stopped him from rapin' me too," She commented. "Ex was awful."

Billy stared at her, surprised at how she could be so calm about it. Then he thought of something; she was so calm about it as if it was nothin' more than picking flowers by a river. It reminded him of how calm and unbothered he is to murdering, at least small animals and people who truly deserved it. He smirked a little before extending his hand to her to shake.

"Billy Antrim."

"Violet Evans."

[rapz-rites]

Oh Baby

Damian Wayne x Reader established relationship

Jon Kent x Reader (Platonic)

You’re not telling Damian something, and he thinks it’s that you're cheating

A/N: A lovely anon requested this. I hope you like it and feel free to send more requests or even message me.

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: misunderstandings, pregnancy, secrets 

You and Damian met sophomore year at Gotham Academy. You were in most of his classes. But he never truly paid any mind to you until your government class. It was a small class of 15 students. 

Your government teacher was holding a class mock debate. 3 students would ask questions as there were 3 topics of discussion. The rest of the students would pair off into 2s and prepare on all the 3 topics as it would be random and no one would know which topic they might get. 

“The three topics of debate will be abortion, racial discrimination, and immigration. And the 3 question leads will be Marcus, Catelyn, and Luca. Everyone else, pair up.”

Girls immediately started surrounding Damian and the boys with you. Damian saw how uncomfortable you were with the boys' awful advances at you. He continued to ignore the girls and walked to you. 

“You can leave. I’m partnered with Y/N.”

Everyone was confused. Even the teacher. Damian never willingly chose to work with anyone. But you decided to take advantage of the opportunity before it went away. 

“Yup. It’s true. So all can go now.” With that, you waved them off and Damian took a seat next to you. 

Everyone else paired off and the teacher started talking. She explained the instructions for the debate and the rubric as it would be graded. 

“There are 15 minutes left of class. You have this time to yourselves, use it wisely.”

You turned to Damian.

“When do you want to start working on the project? I'm available after school today to work in the library.”

“I can't today. I am tomorrow though. Let's exchange numbers.”

And that's how it started. The next day, you and Damian started going to the library after school and texted about the assignment. Even after the in class debate you two would talk. 

Damian found you more tolerable than the rest of the kids at Gotham, and much smarter. He started hanging out with you more and more. In and out of school, obviously without his brothers knowing. 

Eventually, he asked you out, you said yes, and both of you started dating. It’s been over 2 years since. You both have a lot into the relationship. You and Damian opened up to each other. He gave you his trust, which is difficult for him, and you gave him your virginity. 

Though Damian wasn’t your first boyfriend or kiss, he was your first time. And you were happy about it. Even though it was a bit awkward, especially at the beginning, he made it special for you. He would ask if you were ok with something, how you felt, and he just took care of you. Something you never truly had with past boyfriends. 

“Oh my gosh!”

You and Damian only had sex 2 times, both in the past 6 months. Damian took care of you after and you peed.  You were both safe and used protection. That's why you couldn't understand the 3 positive pregnancy tests. 

“No. It can't be.”

You suddenly started crying, collapsing on the bathroom floor of your one-bedroom apartment. 

Since then you haven't been the same. After a few days of thinking, you decided that you would keep the baby. You lost your parents at 15, in an accident. They were wealthy. They had a mansion on the outskirts of Gotham, just like all the other socialites, and a condo near your school. In their passing your parents left everything in your name. You refused to go in the system. You were able to convince your old nanny to become your legal guardian, at least until you could get emancipated. You’ve always wanted a family anyways

You had to tell Damian. Your mind had been running through any possible reactions you'd get from Damian once you told him. Best case scenario he accepts it and decides to stay with you and be a father to the baby. Worst case, he leaves you and you have to raise the baby all by yourself. 

Damian noticed your odd behavior. You were secretive, jittery and would always make excuses not to hang out with him. 

“Sorry, I have a test coming up and need to study. I'll text you�� you would say. But you never texted. 

“I'm volunteering this afternoon. I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you.” You kissed him goodbye on his cheek and walked away

You did the same to your friends. He didn't understand why. Did he do something wrong?

Keeping your pregnancy a secret was eating you alone. You had to tell someone. So you texted someone you could trust. 

You: Hey. Are you busy? I really need someone right now. 

Suddenly there was a gust of wind in your condo. Before you stood Jon Kent. Before you could even speak, that’s when he heard it. Not one, but 2 heart beats. Before you can even process him getting into your place, he hugs and spins you. 

“Oh my gosh! Congratulations!” He smiles from ear to ear. “Wait. I probably should be spinning you.”

Once he put you down he started looking around. Where’s Damian? How come he isn’t here telling me with you? That’s when you started to break down crying. 

“He doesn’t know. And I don’t know how to tell him.” You say hiccupping. Jon just comforted you until you stopped crying. You explained everything to him. 

“You have to tell him at some point. He probably thinks that you're avoiding him because he did something wrong. But I'm here for you.” You hugged him crying. 

“Sorry, it's the hormones.”

For the next 2 weeks, Jon comes to visit you whenever he gets the chance. No one knew.

Clark and Bruce had to collaborate on some League business. So, he and Jon would be staying in Gotham for a few days. 

Jon was heading out when he passed the kitchen 

“Hey Jon” said Dick. 

Damian was paying no mind to them. He was testing you, hoping he could see you today. 

D💚: Hello Beloved

Beloved💜: Hiii Dami

D💚: Are you available today?

Beloved💜: I’m sorry I can’t 😕

                     I promised Layla we could hang out today

                     We can hang out tomorrow tho

                     Pinkie Promise 🤞

D💚: Okay 🤞

         Have fun and be safe

Beloved💜: I will try

                    Won’t be much fun without you 😚

Once, at school you were texting Jon. You were stressing over telling Damian for the 4th time that day… It was only 11 am. And you were spamming him phone

Jon 🦸🏻: OMG

            We’re both at school go learn or something

            My parents are going on a date tonight so I’ll try to swing by

Y/N🤞🏾: ok ok

           See you tonight

“Hey Beloved. Who were you texting?” Damian came up to you. You quickly closed messages and put your phone in your pocket. 

“Hey Damian. It was Layla.” You responded hesitantly. “It’s nothing really but I have to go. I have to study before my test next period” You kissed him goodbye on his cheek and rushed off. 

He knew you weren’t texting Layla, he just saw her a few moments ago when he was looking for you. She told him that you were probably at your locker. Before he went to look for you she told him to tell you that her phone died last period. 

Why were you lying and hiding stuff from him? Damian didn’t want to think it, but were you cheating on him?

Damian looked up from his phone to notice Jon wasn’t there anymore. 

“Where did Jon go?” Damian asked. 

“He said he was going to meet up with ‘a friend’, but it’s obvious he’s meeting with a girl/boy the way he was nervous.” Dick responded

“We should follow him,” Jason spoke up. Damian didn’t know why he was here. Jason wasn’t too fond of staying at the manor. Usually, he would do whatever business he had, get food from Alfred then leave. 

“Sure. Why not” said Tim. Damian forgot he was here. But they all agreed. 

You hated lying to Damian. You decided that when you were going to see him tomorrow, you were going to tell him the truth, everything. You were meeting with Jon to get everything ready to tell Damian everything tomorrow.

Incoming Call: Jon 🦸🏻

You immediately picked up. You were sitting in a booth at yours and damian fav coffee shop. Damian thought that they had these great muffins that tasted even better the day after, so you were going to get him some.

You told Layla about your pregnancy after you told Jon. She was very upset with you. That you didn’t tell her first. 

“I can’t believe it. I mean I can because between both of us, you would have kids and I would be the hot, rich aunt that they love.”

You laughed at her little rant on how your kid would call her “Auntie Lay” and she would bring gifts every time she saw them. How she would have a room for them to crash at her place for when they're a teen and they get mad at you, or they just want to spend time with their auntie. 

“Thank you,” you said as you got up and hugged her “for being here for me. I don't know what I would do without you and Jon”

You were so glad that you had Jon and Layla. 

Jon was walking up to the coffee shop when he saw your call.

“Hey Jon. Layla and I are at the shop, where are you?”

“I’m across the street I’m heading in now.”

Jon didn’t realize the boys were following him. They were confused as to why Jon was at this coffee shop. He had never been there before. 

The boys watched Jon walk in and waited. Eventually, he would come out with whoever he's been secretly meeting up with for weeks. 

Being the type they are, they didn't notice Layla coming out of the shop and getting into her car. She was waiting for you and Jon to go back to your place. 

“He's coming out now,” Dick said excitedly. They all froze in anticipation. What they didn’t expect was to see you walking out after him. 

Damian's heart was breaking. You were secretly meeting up with Jon and cheating on him behind his back. How could you? He kept watch in hopes he was wrong. 

You walked out with a light brown paper bag in hand. You were struggling to seal it without dropping it. That’s when Jon took it from you and sealed it himself. They didn’t have audio but they had visuals. They could say thank you to him.

“Thank you my hero,” you said with a small giggle. Suddenly your face was serious. 

“What if- What if even if Damian accepts this, he won’t regret it later? He won’t think we ruined his life?” 

You started tearing up. From the angle the boys were at they couldn’t see your face. Jon hugged you. 

“Shhh it’s going to be fine.”

“What if he thinks I’m trying to baby trap him and he'll end up hating me?”

You were about to cry when Jon took your face into his hands. You were like the sister he never had. He hated to see you cry. 

“Listen to me. Damian could never hate you. He loves you.”

You nodded and hugged him again. That’s when Damian’s heart truly shattered. 

“I can’t read lips that well but I saw something along the lines of ‘I love you’” Dick said. Damian took off is “disguise”, it was just a hat and sunglasses.

“So she's cheating on me?” Anyone could hear the pain in his voice, even Jon did. 

Jon suddenly let go of you, and turned to look at Damian. He could see the pain written all over his face. Even though mind reading wasn’t a Kryptonian power, he knew what he was thinking: that you were cheating on him with him. 

You were confused. You moved over to see what Jon was looking at. That's when you saw Damian with his brothers. Now he was looking at you.

“Oh no.”

Part 2

So… what do y’all think??? Please let me know.