#i love talking about rats. as you can probably tell!

[binch-i-might-be]

hey ray i was thinking about getting pet rats when i can & researching stuff about them and then remembered that i literally know a real live person who owns rats. and four (4) of them too

would you say rats are expensive or hard to take care of? i've heard some people say they're beginner pets and other people dispute that. generally, do they need a lot of attention and care? also, i know this is different per country but how much did they cost on average?

also out of pure curiosity, have you litter trained your rats?? i was reading something about it and it said it's easy to do it. i need to weigh on an expert's opinion

ohoho what an incredible idea! (<- totally unbiased). thank you for considering me a real live person <3

okay so I actually kind of disagree with the concept of "beginner pets" overall because literally every pet you could get is a living being that requires care and attention. I think this mainly comes from people being uneducated about the needs of small animals like fish or rodents and assuming their lack of knowledge is equivalent with a lack of things to know.

that said, I don't consider rats hard to take care of, but that's because I enjoy spending time with the lads! cleaning in and around their enclosure takes a while, but it's not too bad when you throw on a youtube video and also pet a rat lmao

regarding costs, I think rats are probably amongst the lowest cost pets you can have–aside from insects or arachnids. that doesn't mean they're cheap tho!

the most expensive thing will be the cage, because you need a fairly big one. I paid 300€ for my current one that fits four rats (and that was on sale, the original price was over 400 lol). the cage furnishings will also cost you a good chunk of change, but they usually last for a while and don't have to be replaced too often.

regarding food, I usually buy a good brand 2.5kg rat food bag and another 500g dried vegetable bag every like three to four weeks and supplement with fresh food and treats from the food I eat. costs me about 17-20€

bedding is also something you'll have to buy often. it depends on what brand and size you buy–I recently switched from buying small packs of bedding (60l) to buying LARGE ones (500l), because it's cheaper for me in the long run. just sucks that I gotta lug those 20kg of bedding up the two flights of stairs to my flat <3 (I pay 18€ for those big ones I think, and they last a good few weeks)

now, the thing that's most likely to gut your wallet is vet bills. especially as rats get older, they tend to develop a lot of ailments like tumors or respiratory problems. that can easily cost you several hundred bucks in one go. I'm lucky to have fairly healthy boys, so I only had to bring them to the vet the one time! still cost me 75€ tho lmao

it depends from where you get your rats. I got them from the pet shop and paid I think 16€ per lad.

also about them needing attention, it's best to keep rats in a place where you also keep yourself. they like being around their human! and they need a decent amount of enrichment and play, as they're very intelligent little guys :)

I have not litter trained them, but tbh I didn't see a need to. rats will usually just pick a corner in their cage and designate that as the Poop Corner. I'm sure you could do that quite easily tho, and it would probably save you some cleaning up

anyway tldr: rats are wonderful little critters who are full of love and have sparkly little eyes and will outwit you with their wits tied behind their back. but you will have to invest time to be with them/make sure their enclosure is clean, and have to be prepared to drop a LOT of money should one of them get sick! they also only live to 2-3 years old which is unfair and cruel. things to keep in mind!

[wrr000]

"Small gestures"

The Destined One x reader - headcanons about communication +really short oneshot at the end

Notes: it's basically @szynkaaa idea!!!!!!!!!!!! go and check their blog NOW!!!!!!!!!!! i'm currently working on another headcanons with the destined one and more serious oneshot, hope y'all will enjoy this

Warnings: fluff, kinda fanon the destined one? english is not my first language so i will prob make some changes later! i also exaggerated the situation in oneshot for the fluff, forgive me

travelling with silent destined one was difficult, but soon you realized that sometimes gestures can express more than words

at first it was hard to communicate, this barrier seemed insurmountable to you

but you quickly noticed that he wasn't trying to push you away or left you behind because of it, no - he tired to show you with small gestures that he actually cared

it started with slowing down a little so you could catch up or glancing at you to make sure you were still walking next to him

gently poking you with his hand or tugging your clothes to get your attention

stretching his arm to prevent you from walking further and signaling you to hide behind him. he always made the same gesture then

finding you a safe spot to hide when he knew a tough fight was coming

when an enemy apeared unexpectedly and you were in the middle of the fight, he bought you some time to escape somewhere safe

grabbing you by forearm to make sure you didn't get hurt (you have to tell him several times that you're fine, boy is worried)

all these little things made you understand him more and at some point you learned how to read his body language, gestures and face expressions; scratching his ear when impatient or confused, characteristically touching his nose when he's thinking and all those kind of things

you just knew what he wanted to say (but couldn't)

during this time, you didn't even notice how much you were getting closer and how much you cared for each other

he never made you feel like a burden and you always tried to help him as much as you can

you could talk to him about anything and he would listen to you carefully, making sure you feel comfortable

the destined one never would have thought that he would meet someone like you(and fall in love) during his journey

of course it isn't a flawless relationship because it's still a cheeky monkey that cannot stand 5 seconds without getting into a fight, but it's a story for another time

---

Leaving that cursed land of rats was something you had been waiting for a long time. Almost from the moment you arrived there. Sandstorms were hard to survive, let alone the mad rat king and his two sons. However, you quickly missed the sandy landscapes, because the next stop was a land covered with ice.

Journey to the next Relic wasn't easy. The snow was falling heavily, limiting your vision. The horizon disappeared, you could only see The Destined One figure forcing his way through the high layer of snow. You felt that your shoes were already soaked along with the lower part of your clothes.

Even though you were following the path beaten by your companion, you were moving slowly. You sighed heavily at the thought that you probably still had a long way to go and you could only dream about a break. How nice it would be to sit by the fire and warm yourself. Suddenly various memories started coming back to haunt you here, in the middle of nowhere.

You were pulled out from your thoughts by the familiar warmth. You looked to your left and met his shining eyes, staring into your red face. The Destined One was standing next to you, wrapping his arm around you. A slight smile appeared on his face.

"Sorry", you said quietly. "I'm slowing us down"

But he just shook his head as if he wanted to say that you were talking nonsense. With a firm move, he pulled you closer to him. Your bodies touched even more, you felt a pleasant warmth radiating from him. His hot breath spread across your frozen place. Even know you could feel his unique, but nice scent.

He noticed your tiredness and how chilly you were. You had been shivering from the cold for a while now. He wished he had something to cover you with, but all he could offer was his arm. You appreciated his concern and looking out for you. That alone made you not feel so poorly anymore.

"Thank you, much better now", you said with a smile. "We can go"

He nodded, clealry pleased with the answer. You to were walking together now, hugging each other. The road didn't seem so hard anymore and the snow slowly stopped failing. The horizon became clearer, revealing hugh mountains and old temples. You finally felt like you had made progress. Previous difficulties became only unpleasant memories.

The closer you got, the more the weather was getting better. It was still snowing, but it wasn't even that cold anymore. And yet you still walked together, hugged to each other, neither of you thinking about pulling away. While admiring the views, you told him some old story from your childhood about a hard winter in your village. When you weren't looking, he was admiring you in silence, enjoying the moment.

[mossyivy]

how about a desperate almost ex-husband leon being extremely needy and trying to get his wife back not to divorce him

Anon, idk who you are but you better become a regular if these are the ideas you throw into my ask box. I took liberty in picking which Leon would best fit and I just... It's Vendetta. I'm sorry, wet street rat Leon just stinks of desperation and in need of attention.

Also I am so sorry this took ages to get to you. I've been on break and was going through it. Hopefully it was worth the wait 🤍

Slight NSFW/Alluding to Sex

Not edited/Proof Read

"Please baby, I miss you..." You listen to the last few garbled words from the old voicemail. You hadn't seen or heard from him in a month. No calls, texts, letters or even the occasional flowers or muffin basket he'd have delivered to your office.

You know you shouldn't miss him. The divorce was for a good reason. Or at least it was supposed to be. You still loved him, he still loved you, but his absence was getting to you. You knew who you were marrying, a government agent who wasn't home as often as he wanted to be. You were left to your own devices often. Left with friends. Friends who talked. Talked about how neglectful he seemed to be. You defended him with your life, knowing the good man he was and still is. They picked him apart in secret, threw his flaws out for display like some kind of rotting carcass you'd see on the side of the road.

But eventually they got into your head about deserving better. So, against all the arguing or begging on his end you asked for a divorce and filed. That was a few months ago. He's not even officially moved out of the apartment you two share yet but you're adamant on being separated.

He on the other hand is trying to hold on for as long as possible. At least you thought he was. He left for work over a month ago and you knew he was back. No state marshall or sheriff showed up to tell you he died.

Maybe he was trying to respect your distance and keep away finally. But then Jill sent you the E-vite...

One of the worst parts of divorcing Leon was you having the same friends. You were both civil. No one took anyone's side so you'd both be invited places, even after the separation. You take in a deep breath, knowing he'd definitely be at this dinner party. It was going to be a struggle but you're a big girl. You can handle anything.

Sucking it up, you step out of your car, fixing your dress in place as you look up at the condominium. Seeing the lights on the shared rooftop space gleaming against the dusk sky. It didn't take long for you to push the door open at the top of the stairs seeing everyone dressed in semi-formal attire. Long puffy sleeves swaying as you pull at the gold locket hanging above the sweetheart neckline. The end of you dress puffing out and brushing lightly against your opaque black pantyhose covered knees. Heels clicking against the concrete of the roof as someone calls out to you.

"Hey! Glad you could make it." Claire, one of the hosts, walks out a small group of people in her dark pink dress. She wraps you in a tight hug looking you up and down.

"Thanks for inviting me!" You look around the crowds of people trying to decipher who's here.

"Last time I saw him was with Chris like half an hour ago. He showed up early." Claire knew who you were looking for. You give her an appreciative nod and tell her you'll be doing your rounds to be polite.

After grabbing a glass of wine you start making your rounds. Feet starting to hurt from your heels, they always killed your ankles. Stepping to the side you bump into another guest and spill red wine on yourself. Turning you see Rebecca with her mouth open, shocked expression on her face, clutching the front of her green dress.

"I'm so sorry," she frantically steps over, examining the blotch of dark red on your dress, "Jill and Claire probably have soda water at their place. Why don't you go ask?"

You quickly find Claire, desperate to not let this stain stick.

"Just head down to the condo. Jill's down there babysitting dinner. It should be done soon actually." You nod, heading down to the condo quickly. Knocking on the door you hear loud footsteps coming towards the door. The door swings open, Chris looking down at you in his charcoal gray suit.

"Oh hey. You finally showed." You smirk, smacking his shoulder before going in for a tight hug. Squeezing you in his arms he lifts you, pulling you through the threshold of the condo. The door shuts as he walks towards the kitchen, setting you down in the doorway. Jill turning her head from the stove. Wearing a dark blue pantsuit.

"Hey!" Dropping the wooden spoon onto the stove she walks over, hugging you tightly. She looks down at your dress noticing the wine spot. "Oh God. It looks like you were shot."

"Red wine and Rebecca."

"Ah. Let me get you something for that."

Jill starts searching the cabinets as Chris leans against the kitchen island, arms crossed over his chest.

"How've you been with... Everything?" Chris grabs his beer off the counter, taking a leisurely sip. Watching Jill out of the corner of his eye.

"I can't complain."

"Yeah you can. You're getting a divorce. Can't be easy."

"Chris." Jill shoots him a nasty glare, standing up straight with a bottle of soda water and a cloth.

"What!? I can't be blunt with her now?" Jill sighs, sliding the stuff across the island to you, watching you grab them.

"You can use the guest bathroom. Our main one is being worked on. It's down the hall to the right. Dinners done so just head upstairs when you're ready."

"Thanks." You nod, walking past them both and down the hall and into the guest room. You don't flick the light on, walking through the moonlight cover room to the door and push your way in. Starting to work on the stain on your dress after. Blotting the wine out slowly, taking your time to draw it out. Working the wine out you look at yourself in the mirror.

Tired eyes covered by concealing makeup and a fake sense of happiness. You really haven't slept well in weeks, since the filing. It was weird going back home alone. A knock startles you out of your staring. You quickly access the damage, deeming your work satisfactory enough. Opening the door you're met with dark circles under icy blue eyes. Stubble surrounding plump rosy lips as he gasps.

Now face to face with your soon-to-be ex-husband.

"Hey..."

"Hey." You two stare at each other for a moment, no one knowing what to say exactly. So you start cleaning up and rinsing the rag.

"I'll be out of your way in a second."

"Take your time." He assures, putting a hand on your lower back as he passes you and steps to the towel cabinet, sliding one of the drawers open and looking for something. You continue to rinse the rag, watching him in your peripherals as he searches. Wearing his old dark blue suit and a white button up open enough to show off his collar bones.

The silence is so awkward you could feel your toes curling in your heels.

"You look good." He speaks looking at you, you shut the sink off looking in his direction with a small smile.

"Thank you." you look him up and down. Taking in the appearance of him being dressed up for once. You always liked him cleaned up. "You look like a nightclub owner."

He chuckles, smiling as he grabs a box of bandaids from the drawer, shutting it with his hip as he starts reaching inside the box.

"You hurt yourself?" The old tinge of worry hits you as he starts walking towards you, presumably leaving.

"Just a little cut. Tried to catch a knife and it didn't work out." He shows his left palm, a cut along the side of his thumb, still bleeding.

"Jesus Lee..." You turn the sink back on and make him shove his hand under the cold water to slow the bleeding. You start washing the blotch of blood already dried on his palm as he just lets you. You're delicate hands scrubbing the shell shaped soap across his paler palm compared to the slight tan of his skin. You feel his right arm move and slide around you, hand on your waist like it's still so natural as he fixes to your side.

You stare at his hand, watching the bleeding slow as you rinse his palm. But you finally notice he's wearing his wedding ring still. The black band that matches yours sitting at home in your jewelry box, collecting dust when it could be getting pawned like your friends suggested. But you've grown attached to it, even if it is a constant reminder of what was. You shake the feeling, turning the faucet off and grabbing the hand towel to dry the area.

"You know, I can do this myself right?" You look up at your reflections in the mirror, it's almost like he's watching you over your shoulder with how close he is. His eyes watching your every action so lovingly. It makes you smile and forget that you shouldn't be feeling butterflies in your stomach right now.

"You never do it right." You tease, feeling his chest press against your shoulder and back. Notes of citrus and buttery sandalwood touch your nose. Making his noticeable lean over your shoulder almost forgiveable as you apply the bandage on his hand. You feel his nose brush against your ear as you throw the wrappers in the tiny trashcan next to the sink.

"Leon... No." His hand squeezed gently as it moves down to your hip, he takes a slow breath in. Letting the scent of your perfume and shampoo fill his senses completely.

"I miss you..." His voice is so soft, his breath against your ear makes a bolt of electricity shoot up your spine and your skin tingle. Goosebumps forming over your arms as you side step away from him. Looking at him again, his eyes look filled with desperation as he tries closing the gap again.

"I've been thinking about you nonstop for the past month." You paw at the bathroom doorknob, opening the door and slipping into the guest bedroom. He quickly follows you into the dim lighting.

"I'm seeing a therapist now." You glance at him, turning away as you try making a break for it.

"Good for you." You misjudge your step and smack your foot against the table next to the door, twisting your ankle in the process. Immediately, you hunch over to grab your ankle and whine in pain.

"Baby..." He leans down looking at your ankle as it starts to swell already. "Come here."

Quickly you're lifted off your feet and being carried over to the bed, reminiscent of your wedding night. Leon sits, putting your legs over his lap.

"You know these heels are bad on your ankles." His hands slight over your heel, pushing the offender off your foot and doing the same to the next. His fingers glide over your ankle making you wince and whimper. "I'm sorry... I can't really see it well with the..."

His fingers pinch against your pantyhose and pull it gently. Looking at you as if asking for permission. His hands glide up your legs, looking at you. Giving a small nods his hands go up your thighs, pulling at the waist and down your legs. Dropping them with your heels. His hands linger on your bare thighs as he stares. Gripping with the tenderness you'd forgotten about, a small huff leaves his lips before you clear your throat.

"Leon..." He snaps back to reality looking at your ankle and rubbing it. You complain again, feeling your heart beat in you leg.

"Good news, it doesn't look broken."

"No shit." He smirks looking back at you, lips turning into a sincere smile as his brows drop.

"Still as snarky as ever..." It's your turn to stare now, watching his hands wander back up your legs and wrap around your knees. Pulling you closer and wrinkle the sheets below you.

"Who would I be without my smart ass mouth?" His eyes drift halfway closed, his body almost completely pressed against your chest with his own. His arm slides around your waist with practiced ease.

"Not my wife." His words flow so naturally. Like no time has past since the separation. Being this close doesn't feel nearly as awkward as you expected it to be. His hands are as gentle as the look he's giving you. That same puppy dog stare only you seem to yank out of the rough and tough exterior.

It makes you crack a smile... A smile you definitely shouldn't be showing so easily.

"I miss you." His voice is soft again, leaning closer into you, cupping your cheek with a callused hand. "Do you miss me?"

"Yes." The answer rolls off your tongue without a second thought. The corners of his lips turning higher, smiling brighter then you've seen in a while. He doesn't waste any time pulling you into his lap, smothering you in his embrace and pulling you into a heated and hungry kiss.

Hands traveling into every available spot on your body. Finally finding his way under the skirt of your dress and pulling your hips taut against his growing desire.

"Lee... We can't right now, they're expecting us upstairs for dinner." His lips meet your neck, kissing across your pulse and to your ear. Hands gliding over your skin as he pulls back from your neck.

"Why would I go do that when I got my favorite meal right here?" You laugh, the noise sounding like music to his ears all over again. Eyes turning to that loving stare, laying you down against the plush sheets and linens.

"Plus, you hurt your ankle. You need bed rest... And maybe I could give you a real reason to limp."

[talkbycolor]

john doe game headcanons . . . ↷

A/N; i'm actually really sensitive about john doe JHSAJHSAJAS

Pairing; "John Doe" x GN!Reader

CW; Just doe being the weirdo we love / PISSPISSPISS / implied cannibalism? not so much tho / ew stinky gay / sex with a hairball

john doe as a partner.

His love for you is pure, but the lack of understanding in humans makes it complicated, he doesn't know how to express it in a "correct" way.

He has little interest in humans but all his interest in You, do you want to learn to play an instrument? Doe too, he would learn to use a phone to call you although it would be useless since in the end he would follow you to work, he can't stand having you away for even a second!

He tried to eat you (unfortunately not in a sexual way), he wanted to bite, pull your teeth, and tear them out of your cheeks to eat them, you had to use a lot of patience to explain to him that this was painful and you could die

He likes your fluids, your sweat smells so good, it tastes great, your tears, he knows that tears mean something is wrong but he can't help but want to lick them, at least he's like a puppy in that way and that will make you laugh, Doe wants to help! your urine, he will drink it all without a problem, if you are both having a loving session in bed and you want to go to the bathroom, forget it, he will open your legs and help empty your bladder, he loved being your personal toilet, your blood is the sweetest of his paradise, be careful with accidental cuts or his mouth will stick like a leech to your wound

Ideas for romantic activities will probably come from television, be careful what he watches

At this point, Doe lives by and for you, he will adapt to your lifestyle and tastes, although he cannot understand most of them, the idea of "breaking up" does not exist in his head, you can walk away, even stop talking to him and he will continue behind you

But he has feelings, why don't you talk to him anymore? Did he do something wrong? He no longer leaves rats in the kitchen, he no longer tries to make You dinners with raw meat, is that the way he looks? Tell him your standards! Doe will change everything for you, even reality

He can definitely purr, he's more like an old, ugly, stray cat that will rest on your lap, but he's YOUR, old, ugly, stray cat.

He doesn't know how to give compliments, it's more like observations or comments about how you make him feel "You're wearing a big hat!" "A red dress!", "I'm so happy to see you!" but it's adorable that he reminds you that you are his whole life…somehow

It's like having a child at home, in the strangest way possible, he will try to make horrible crafts for you and help with housework without much success.

If you demand sex, Doe would probably do his best to make a nice cock, just for you, or a pussy depending on what you like, he will be submissive but if you ask him to take control he will try

And that will probably be the messiest and hardest sex you've ever had in your life, Doe always adores you like it's your last day on earth so in a sexual sphere it would be ten times worse

If you put on a movie at night, he will fall asleep halfway through, no exceptions, the sound of the television and your smell will be enough

Doe would definitely kill for you, he doesn't understand jokes so please don't say "Ugh I hate that guy, I hope he's dead" because yes, the guy will be dead.

In case You doesn't like the smelly boy, Doe will try to take showers regularly, at least to not smell like something out of the sewer, the pain doesn't matter if it's about you

Loves physical contact and quality time

Surprisingly, Doe has a driver's license, he would be your personal chauffeur, you may think it's an adorable gesture but he just wants to be sure where you are at every hour of the day… and help, of course.

Aside from adoring you, Doe actually has his own tastes and hobbies, he HAS feelings! He has tried knitting since the technology is very confusing, he really is like an old man

He tries to have a good relationship with your friends and family, if you have a big family he will probably feel overwhelmed but that doesn't mean he will stop trying to show that he loves you and wants to be with you.

Your younger nephews love it, they think of Doe as a weird-looking uncle who lets them play with his hair

Doe shirt always has hearts when he looks at You.

♡

[whatswrongwithblue]

Girl Talk

Part Two of my Imagines with Angel Dust.

“So Alastor, he’s like all . . .” Angel Dust made strange gestures with his hands above his head, his thumbs pressed to his hair and fingers splayed out, and you were fairly certain he was trying to mimic antlers growing. “. . . murder-y and shit right? Even if he’s at the hotel, you can’t expect us to believe he’s stopped doing all that.”

It was late at night and you and Angel were at the bar, keeping Husk company, and nursing a couple of cocktails.

Alastor had disappeared hours ago, which wasn’t unusual, but it was getting late. You weren’t letting yourself be worried just yet, he was the Radio Demon after all, and could certainly take care of himself. But you couldn’t help being a little on edge. Alastor always came home but still. He could give you an idea of where he had gone off to and what he was doing when he took off like this.

“Why, are you going to tattle to Charlie if I say he is?” you said, a little too defensively.

“Hey, I ain’t no rat,” Angel said, also defensive. “I’m just trying to figure the guy out.”

“He’s still the Radio Demon,” you respond vaguely.

“Oh well that tells me everything.” Angel rolled his eyes.

Husk chuckled, wiping a glass dry.  

“He’s a serial killer and a cannibal. The day that guy stops doing all that is the day I’ll stop drinking and gambling.”

You scowl over the rim of your cocktail.

“You make him sound like a monster when you say it like that.”

Husk raised an eyebrow at you.

“Excuse me if I ain’t your boytoy’s number one fan. ‘Sides, not like anything I said wasn’t true.”

“Hey, he’s not out their killing all willy nilly, right?” Angel offered. “I mean, I pissed him off the other day and he let me go. Val woulda done way worse. So that means he’s got a type, I’m assuming? Like a uh . . . a demographic . . . of people he kills. If you ain’t that, he’ll still be creepy and fucking weird, but you’re probably safe.”

“Probably,” you smirk.

“Whatever,” Husk said with a grumble, and threw his towel over his shoulder, turning his back on the two of you.

“So, about those tentacles-“

“No,” you snapped, cutting off Angel’s sentence before it could be finished.

“Oh come on! You can’t leave me hanging like that!”

You just rolled your eyes and sighed, taking another sip of your drink.

“Oh . . . hanging, now there’s a thought,” Angel pressed on. “So suspensory play, huh? I bet those are really fun for that. Just how talented is the guy with those things? Because I bet with some practice, you could even use them for some interesting kind of Shibari. Or is he unimaginative and just shoves them right up your-“

“Angel, seriously, did you not learn your lesson last time?”

“Oh I learned my lesson all right. I learned how hot it is. So c’mon, admit it,” he teased, leaning closer to you, “you guys are into bondage.”

You laughed, unable to hide the sly smile on your face, but said nothing.

“I guess it makes sense,” Angel continued, “the guy does own souls. He’s probably gotta have that type of control in the bedroom.”

“You just go ahead and let your imagination run wild, my friend,” you said with a giggle.

“Baby, my imagination can run marathons,” Angel bragged. Then suddenly, he turned serious and looked over at you. “Wait, does he own your soul?”

Husk turned around and both men were now looking at you. Knowing both of their predicaments, you almost felt bad for your answer.

“No,” you said quietly.

“NO?!” Angel yelled, slapping his hand down on the bar counter.

‘No,” you repeated.

“But . . . but, that’s what he does. I mean, he even owns Niffty’s soul. So why are you with him-“

“Angel,” you interrupted, putting your hand on his arm. “I’m with him because I love him. Because I choose to be.” You said your words firmly, making sure your point was crystal clear. “And anyway, Alastor’s not the type to sleep with a soul he owns. It’s hard to explain his twisted moral code but he would think that was rude . . . or abusive . . . or just trashy. No offense.”

You knew about Angel’s forced and strained deal with Valentino and felt awkward, exposing the stark differences between your relationship and theirs.

“If I was making him sound like a monster, you’re making him sound like a fucking angel,” Husk said.

“Fair,” you agreed. “So, he’s complicated. But so am I.”

“So you really are into monster fucking. Got it,” Angel said, sounding deadly serious but when you looked at him, you saw the hint of a smile beginning to spread across his face.

“Wellllll,” you said, drawing out the word and giving Angel a side eye, “sometimes he has to blow off some steam. And those antlers are great for holding onto for balance.”

Angel choked on the drink he was taking a sip from.

“Now we’re talking,” Angel replied, eagerly leaning towards you again.

You held up a finger, stopping Angel from invading your space anymore. “That’s more than enough information for now.”

“Let me get this straight. He’s got the tentacles, he’s got the antlers,” Angel listed, holding up a finger for each item on his list. He held up a third finger, looking at you and tilting his head expectantly. “Say, you ever have a threesome with his shadow?”

You felt your face heating up, desperately trying to keep your composure and think of a witty response that wouldn’t give anything more away than your expression was, when thankfully you were saved by the front doors of the hotel slamming open.

Alastor walked in, his usual confident walk more of an exhausted shuffle, and he was covered head to toe in blood and the occasional clump or string of viscera.

“Holy shit buddy,” Angel exclaimed, “looks like you bit off more than you can chew.”

“I’m fine,” Alastor huffed and waved his hand dismissively. “Splendid, really. Just need some cleaning up.”

“Do you need any help?” you asked, sounding more flirty than concerned.

“Down girl,” Alastor replied and tapped you on the head with his microphone as he strode past you. “I’ll see you all in the morning.”

He evaporated into shadow as he reached the staircase.

“If he could just do that, then why’d he have to make a show of walking through the front doors?” Angel complained, “He left bloody footprints all over the lobby!”

“That’s Al’ for you,” Husk said, “Always gotta be dramatic.”

You sat in silence, ignoring the two men’s banter and you gripped the glass of your cocktail, staring at it as if it had your entire focus.

A few moments went by where no one said anything and the lull in conversation became awkward.

“You don’t have to stay down here, you know,” Angel offered. “I can tell you want to go sexually attack him.”

You nodded. “I need to go lick every inch of that man clean,” you said and headed upstairs.

Part 3

[bluesidez]

Hi! I saw your opening requests!

I was hoping for Miguel O’Hara x plus-size reader. Reader is a regular waitress who meets both Miguel and Spider-Man. Knows Miguel because he’s become a regular and Spider-Man because the diner gets robbed, but Reader manages to save herself. Also if the reader could have glasses that would be awesome!

It’s up to you! You’re the writer.

Also I just wanted to say I love your Gym rat Miguel series! ����❤️💙❤️

[Dual]

lab taster: Anonymous Participant 🩻

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x PlusSize!Reader

summary: There's something strange about that guy in the corner...

content warning: fluffy, definitely suggestive at parts, I kind of take a bit from the comic books, but it's still the ATSV Miguel, Kasey Nash is here + a certain someone for like a millisecond, talks of violence, guns, and threats (but nothing too terrifying), also LOTS of mentions of food. like lotsssss

word count: 3.6k, halfway proofread

a/n: I started writing this as if she worked at a fancy restaurant, but then I realized you said diner, so I had to backtrack. ALSO THANK YOU FOR THE LOVE ON GYM RAT MIGUEL!!! 🩵

“I’ve never seen one man eat so much.”

You looked to where your coworker was staring, eyes landing on the man that frequents the corner of the dim dining room.

“He’s a big guy. He probably needs it,” you flipped through your pad in order to avoid looking at the person who’s been wrapped in your thoughts for a few months now.

He always comes in just when the afternoon is turning into evening and the sun kisses his skin through the window. Most days he looks a little tired, lost in thought as he waits for his food.

His order is usually the same: a double-stacked burger with a large fry and a black coffee. Sometimes, he’d substitute the meal with a heavy breakfast, pouring syrup over everything. Other times, he’d order pork chops and gravy with a slice of apple pie to take home.

He always looked a bit sheepish when he asked for a meal to-go, as if you would judge him openly for being a working man.

On the contrary, you wondered why he always came here. From the shine on his watch to the material of his clothes, you could tell he could afford better establishments to eat at.

“If you’re done ogling at him, you can bring him the check,” Kasey snickered at you. “He keeps looking over here and it’s freaking me out.”

“You just don’t like anyone but that flying bug guy.”

“That’s Mr. Spider-Man to you,” Kasey moved so that you could print out his receipt. “And he does something useful with his time like save civilians. That guy just comes in here and looks at you like he wants to eat you for dessert.”

“What?”

You turn to him again and he quickly looks out of the window, plastic cup pressed against his lips.

“I don’t think he even sees me like that,” you mumble, ripping the paper from the machine and placing it onto the clipboard. “He’s just a man who enjoys comforting meals and ambiance.”

“Yeah. An ambiance that starts and ends with you and your ass, maybe.”

An affronted “hey” goes ignored by Kasey who disappears to go serve another table.

She really shouldn’t have put that thought into your head, because now you’re more hyperaware of your actions than usual.

You wipe at your apron and pull your dress down before you head towards his table, steps a bit hesitant.

As you get closer, he looks back at you. Maybe he is interested, but maybe you’re a bit delusional.

“Here’s your check, sir. I hope you enjoyed your meal,” you placed the clipboard on the table. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“No, thank you,” he holds up the check up with a small smile. “Maybe a name so I know who my tip is going to.”

Your fingers press against the frames of your glasses, pushing them up a little.

Did you forget to introduce yourself to him when you sat him down?

When you say your name, your confusion must have carried over to your face because the way the man brings his hands up is quick.

“Ah, it’s fine Mr.-“ you take a glance at his card, never mind that you’ve already memorized his name, “O’Hara.”

“Miguel is fine.”

“Mr. Miguel.”

“Just. Miguel is fine.”

You nod and smile. Miguel was fitting for a face like that, and your heart felt the same way as you completed his transaction and handed him his receipt.

The thought of him being interested in you was cute to imagine, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up.

Kasey taps your shoulder as she carries a coffee jug back to the machine, “Go clear your table. There’s a tip.”

With a routined step, you start to stack his empty plates. Napkins get thrown into the bin, and utensils are gathered.

A gasp leaves your lips as a stack of 20s reveals itself. A note wrapped around it says your name and “Thank you for always making my nights.”

Maybe Kasey was right. She could never know that, though.

It’s about a week or so before Miguel comes back.

Oddly enough, too much happened at the diner within that time.

Your boss was on your ass about splitting your tips with a manager that was never there. Creeps kept lingering around the corner during closing time. Your schedule was insane and you’ve hit your monthly limit of rude customers.

When Miguel comes in, it’s almost as if white angel wings were attached to him.

“What can I get you today?” you ask with a smile.

“I think just a black coffee to start off,” he looks over you. “New uniforms?”

You glance down at your dress, the neckline of it plunging severely low.

“Yeah. The boss thinks it’ll bring in more customers,” you yank at the back of the dress, still a bit nervous about how high the skirt is on your body. It’s tight in places that no uniform can should be, hugging your curves, and exposing your chest and legs. “I think he’s full of it.”

Miguel is silent for a while, eyes roaming in a way that you couldn’t quite discern.

“He definitely was onto something.”

You blink.

“Uh, is he- He’s not causing any problems for you, is he?”

“No. It’s all good. For now.”

He stumbles his way through his order, corned beef on rye bread with swiss cheese and sauerkraut along with some homemade potato spirals.

“Will that be all for you?”

“Yes, thank you,” he hides behind his coffee mug as you walk away.

While you wait for his order to be done, you watch Kasey run around and chat with some of your regulars. Despite how grumpy she could be, she was a natural at keeping the customers entertained.

Refilling the drinks for a few people at the barstools, your mind drifts to what Kasey is saying to one of the old geezers who’s keen on superstitions.

“I’m just saying, there has to be a motive for why he only strikes in the afternoon!”

“Are you sure he’s just not an idiot desperate for attention?” Kasey removes his empty plate and tops off his water. “Leaving notes with riddles? That’s so been-there-done-that.”

“Kase, I don’t think you get it, doll. His attacks have gotten more and more severe. He’s starting to target a specific demographic.”

A shout and a ding by the window lets you know that Miguel’s order is ready. You place an extra pickle on his plate just because.

Rounding the corner of the bar, Kasey is still bickering about the city’s most recent villain.

“Listen. If I’m ever in dire need,” she turns and sighs dramatically at a news segment featuring Spider-Man flying across buildings, “I know who to call for.”

The old man clicks his teeth and throws a hand at the screen, “What a bunch of rubbish. That prick isn’t worth a hoot. The Fly-Boys are your best bet.”

“As if those douchebags can do anything for me. Hurry up and pay, mister.”

You place Miguel’s food in front of him, mouth moving before your mind.

“Spider-man seems like a nice guy.”

“What makes you say so?” Miguel reaches for the ketchup.

“Oh, I don’t know. Kasey is always going on and on about him, so any doubts I had, she’s already debunked.”

He’s silent, turning over his sandwich.

“And what do you think of him now?”

“I think he’s pretty cool. He must be stressed out from everything, though. I couldn’t imagine taking on so much. What about you?”

He coughs, “What about me?”

“What do you think of Spider-Man?”

“He’s practical, always gets the job done. Maybe a bit too ambitious for his own good.”

“You talk like you know him.”

“I’ve never met him,” Miguel hums. “ Just taking a wild guess.”

The clip switches to Spider-Man throwing a car right at a villain camping out in a park resulting in immediate flames.

“That’s practical, alright.”

Miguel clears his throat, “He’s probably had better days.”

It’s been raining a lot which meant slower business and slower tips.

You’ve spent most work hours folding and refolding the towel in your apron pocket or flipping through the songs on the jukebox to fill the stillness of the diner.

A few lone stragglers were enjoying their meal, keeping quiet to themselves.

The chefs in the back were roughhousing and Kasey was ticking down when she could clock out.

Two more hours and thirty until you could fight through the rain to get home.

The bell to the door rings, opening up to a drenched Miguel.

A smile comes to your face as if you won a cash prize.

“Hey, stranger,” Kasey says as she turns and starts up a pot of coffee as you round the corner. “Glad to see you here. She was worried sick! You haven’t come in for a while.”

“Kasey, hush!”

“No, no, let her speak,” Miguel taps against the counter. “I’d like to hear what she has to say.”

You elbow Kasey before she even thinks to respond, “Would you like your regular seat, Miguel?”

“I would love that. Had a long day.”

“That you should tell her all about over some coffee,” Kasey smiles. “Go ahead, I’ll cover you.”

You sigh as Kasey follows you to wear Miguel usually sits, and gets Miguel’s order down. She fights silently with you over sitting down across from him. Her eyes saying something along the lines of “we can split the tip,” “here’s your chance,” and “that old fart isn’t going to fire you.”

So there you were, sitting across the guy who you anticipate to come in every so often. The guy who loved simple, American-style meals. The guy with the nice build and a pretty face.

The guy who can’t stop looking at your chest right now.

“You said you had a tough day?” you peer at him from over your glasses, a little unsure of what his steady eyes meant.

“Um, yeah,” he stutters. “There’s been some changes in positions at my job. Some higher ups are giving me trouble, but I think they’re scared they’re about to lose their seats.”

“Oh, you didn’t tell me you were a big-shot.”

“I wouldn’t say all of that,” he grins as he bends his head down. The way his hair falls is dreamy and it’s no fair that he still looks this good despite the rain dousing him. “I’m just in an interesting spot.”

Kasey plops down a hot plate of chopped steak and mashed potatoes smothered in gravy with some steaming broccoli on the side. There’s a heaping amount of food on the plate and you give her an incredulous look before she whips out an extra pair of utensils.

“The guys in the back a closing up shop. They want as little dishes to wash as possible.”

“We don’t close until-”

“As little dishes as possible!” Kasey sing-songs, leaving you shifting in your seat.

Miguel picks up a fork, “I hope you like beef.”

He starts to cut into the meat and you’re slow to follow, watching his arms bulge through through his sweater.

You wonder if he could hear your heart rattling in your chest.

The conversation continues and you learn that Miguel works at Alchemax working as a head lab technician.

“Miguel, that’s amazing! I’ve seen old classmates nearly go to war for that position.”

“It’s not all that it’s chalked up to be.”

“It’s still astounding that you got to that level,” you push your fork through some potatoes and take a bite, “You should be proud. And if not, I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you,” he looks up at you while you continue to chew. “You’ve got something here.”

“Oh,” you quickly take your fingers to your lips, embarrassed.

“Here,” Miguel reaches across from you and wipes he corner of your mouth with a napkin. “All better.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Time is lost as you two exchange words, Miguel making you laugh over the smallest things. He’s as sweet as ever, his compliments make you ecstatic, and he listens when you go into your own stories. Your cheeks hurt from how much you’ve been grinning.

“Hey, so, I’ve been thinking,” Miguel starts.

“About?”

He takes a deep breath, shoulders tensing up.

“I would love to take you on a date. Somewhere nice and exciting. That’s if you would want to, of course. I don’t want to pressure you.”

“Miguel,” you stop his ramblings with a hand on his wrist, “I would love to go on a date with you.”

His shoulders relax, and his smile is wide.

The chime of the door rings, signaling another customer coming inside. His hands are in his pockets and his hoodie is pulled tight around him. Not an uncommon sight, but the diner was set to close soon.

You followed his steps as he sat in Kasey’s side of the diner, his leg bouncing repeatedly.

“For our date,” Kasey meets your eyes before she goes to his table. Her hospitable tone switched on. “Where were you thinking of going?”

Miguel begins to answer, but you continue to stare at the other side of the room. The guy is jumpy and from what you can tell, snappy. Kasey looks antsy as she walks back to the counter to grab a cup and a picture of water.

Miguel turns around to look where you’re watch and turns back, “Is something wrong?”

“That guy is making Kasey nervous. She’s hiding it well, but she’s freaking out.”

You both watch as he scans that side of the room, body rocking in the still chair.

It was daunting and quiet. The sound of the rain drowning out the idle noises of the dining room.

“Something’s not right,” you whisper.

From how Miguel gets up, you can see that he can feel the uneasiness, too.

Kasey walks over to him, a slice of thick chocolate cake on a small plate in her hands. She places it on the table, ready to ask if he needs anything else.

Time stops as he grabs her arm and yanks her towards him, the few customers left stopping to watch the scene. Kasey pulls her arm back, ready to put up a fight.

The man pulls something out of his pocket, Kasey’s voice reaching a shriek. You gasp as you see him point it right at her head, nerves nearly failing you. People scramble to corners of the room, some falling to the floor.

Miguel grabs your arm and drags you to the bathroom, your hands covering your mouth as you fight the urge to scream.

You can’t feel anything as he shoves you into a stall, your limbs trembling. Tears are running down your face as you try to think, but Miguel is holding you up to keep you from falling.

“Stay in here, and lock the door. Don’t come out.”

“But Miguel, he has a gun! We, we should call someone. You can’t go back out there!”

“I’ll be ok. I promise.”

“How do you know that?”

“Look at me,” Miguel takes your hands as you slide to the floor. He makes the trip easy, arms solid. “I’ll meet you when this is over, ok?”

“Ok,” your vision blurs as Miguel leaves, face worn with sorrow.

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting on the gross bathroom floor, sobbing into your hands.

You could hear shouting and screaming, the yells of the man telling everyone to shut up. A few bangs of his gun went off and you bit your wrist in order to give yourself away. It didn’t feel right to be the only one to make an escape, but maybe you would be next to die, too.

The rain continues outside, a loud strike of thunder echoing off the tiles as lights flicker off. Your heartbeat picks up as you try not to make a sound. The lightning illuminates the room for a second, and the noise from outside stops.

You can’t tell what’s going on, the pit of your stomach falling with every second.

The door bangs open, and you feel like passing out. It sounds like the ocean is roaring in your ears as you try to listen for footsteps.

One second turns into two, two turns into ten, and you lose count of how long you’re holding your breath.

Your stall is pried open as the lightning shines through the window. Even as you see the masked hero, your throat lets out a weak cry.

“Come on,” he says, eyes on his mask squinting. “It’s safe now.”

With your eyes refocusing, you see Spider-Man standing tall and proud, with Kasey latched to his back like a koala.

Your hand moves across the stall before you feel yourself falling forward.

Spider-Man catches you with ease, lifting you into his arms.

“Thank you, thank you!”

“It’s what I’m here for.”

He carries you both back to the dining room where the robber is beaten black and blue, tied up in neon red webbing. People are huddled up together as policemen ask them questions.

Spider-Man places you in a seat and grabs a blanket from the pile that was brought in. You thank him with a soft voice.

“You can get off of my back now,” he tells Kasey. “He won’t hurt you any time soon.”

“No! I think I want to stay here,” she says. Her eyes surveying the side of his head. Her hands rub the side of his mask, “You really are as sturdy as they say. And this suit! It’s so cooling. What’s it made of? Silk?”

“No, it’s- Will you get off of me, please?”

Kasey jumps to the floor, face filled with glee, like she didn’t just get held at gunpoint.

“Where’s my phone? I have to get a picture. Look here! Say ‘whiskey’! Oh, wait, you can’t really smile can you? Can you sign something for me? My friends are going to be so jealous.”

Spider-Man stiffens up as Kacey flits around him like an excited puppy.

You try to be happy for her, but you can’t find Miguel. He said we would be ok.

There’s an old couple by the window, a mom and her son by the bar, a truck driver talking to the police. No Miguel.

“Shock, can you give me a second?” Spider-Man barks as Kasey tries to climb over him again, squealing like a schoolgirl.

“Excuse me,” you tug at his hand that Kasey doesn’t have a grip on, “Have you seen a man, about 6’8 or so? Sweater, khakis, and a lanyard. He- he was with me before the robber came. I don’t see him anywhere.”

“I’m sorry, this is everyone that was here when I came. Maybe he went to get help.”

“Oh, god,” you take in a watery gulp of air. “What if something happened to him out there? He told me he would be ok!”

“Hey, I’m sure wherever he is, he’ll be alright. No need to panic. Everything from here and a few miles out is taken care of. No one else is coming out here in this weather.”

The guy starts to wake up and fight against the webbing.

“I gotta take care of this,” he pulls Kasey off of him. “See you around, ladies.”

“But Spider-Man-”

Oranges, blues, and reds flash before you, Spider-Man flopping the man over his shoulder as he walks through, stoic silhouette disappearing before you.

You sit in horror as everything weighs down on you.

Something, no, someone, was taken from you before it even had a chance to begin.

Kasey’s hands are rubbing on your back as you cry into the blanket in your lab.

You had no idea where Miguel was.

“I’m sure he’s alright,” Kasey whispers to you, “And if not, I’ll kill him.”

A chuckle comes out of you, a bit half-hearted.

The lights of a car beam through the windows, doors slamming as people came rushing through the door.

You look up to Miguel and a man that looked almost identical.

“Miguel!” you run to him, his arms nearly taking you off the ground. “Oh my god, are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Your hands shake as you touch across his face. He’s all intact, although still drenched.

“I’m ok, I promised you I would be. I went to go get help.”

“Hot help at that,” Kasey whistles as she looks at the man behind Miguel.

“Are you alright?” Miguel covers the hand you have on your face. “I hope I didn’t give you too much of a scare.”

“I’m better now,” you practically melt into him. “Is that date still on?”

“It was never off. I just need your number now. And we can get out of here, yeah?”

You nod and lean onto his chest listening to his heart sing to you.

It feels familiar.

As always, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and COMMENT! It felt very mysterious to write even thought I didn't really mean for it to be.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

j word appreciation post

I FEEL LIKE I'VE BEEN TALKING WAY TOO MUCH ABOUT... A CERTAIN OTHER CHARACTER WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED.... AND I NEED TO TIP THE SCALES BACK TO WHERE THEY SHOULD BE plus I just rolled his SR Nightmare Suit card so--

askjlbfbuoasofbua fqreryoqiw Okay but seriously, I feel like Jade really gets to shine in this event (which is really ironic given that I feel his appearance was lackluster in the very first Halloween event, when he was actually a SSR). Like, he doesn't do or say anything world-changing. However, he does get many opportunities to just be a menace to his classmates and you can tell he's really living it up for the Halloween season 😭

In his Nightmare Suit summon animation, he sounds so happy shouting "This is Halloween!!" You seriously have to go and listen to it for yourself to understand how excited he is. Aaaaah, it fills my heart with so much joy seeing him all hyped for the holiday… And he's got voice lines where he's so gleeful about the thought of scaring others... Customers at the Mostro Lounge, Malleus, etc. He even praises Jack for his delightful (but quickly changes it to "evil/wicked") frights.

Some other standout moments that made me laugh:

His voice line where he asks you to please not poke him in the forehead even though the slicked back hairstyle basically invites us to OTL J WORD IS SELF AWARE

BENDING DOWN TO EPEL'S HEIGHT SO EPEL CAN PRACTICE "ESCORTING" HIM... J WORD STOP IT YOU'RE KILLING THIS GUY, YOU'RE RUBBING IT IN HIS FACE

Fucking with Epel by lying to him about which plants are common and then actually telling the truth later (when Epel insists he won't fall for it again), WHICH MAKES EPEL LOOK STUPID IN FRONT OF THEIR UPPERCLASSMEN

Being the one to open the Halloween Town door... Absolutely no fucks given, just lets his curiosity lead the way

HIM AND AZUL LOWKEY TAG-TEAM INSULTING LEONA AND SAYING HE'S PROBABLY TONE DEAF... You two better stfu 😭 HE'S GONNA PROVE YOU WRONG WHEN THE HALLOWEEN EVENT MANDATED SONG DROPS… and then J word sings??? GOD I WISH 5HIS EVENT WSS VOIcED

Cbsbsjwnwn HIMWNqtING TO HELP DALLY fIND LOVE BY DOINH DmTH UNSPEAKABLE

Backing off SO fast when Leona demands they play Magift with him in exchange for singing at the lounge

Joining in with everyone making fun of Leona being shockingly princely and picking on Grim's handwriting...

Makes fun of Jamil for thinking a rustling wound was made by a bug (it was actually a rat)

DHLBOSVASVFAS GETTING COMPETITIVE WHEN LOCK CALLS HIM BORING... and then taking a present which is so clearly booby trapped just so Jade can prove he can have an entertaining surprised reaction...

J WoRD iS LITERALLY OU t hERE thRIVING 🥺 I love that for him………………… ………… …………… ……. …… ………….. ….. …. … …….. …. … . .:: .. ….. … . … . : .. . . . .. .

[captain-marble]

silly thought that i’ve been rotating at might write someday (although knowing me…)

anyways!

someone gets mad and pranks the justice league by releasing clips of their embarrassing moments on tower (nothing that could reveal identities but still embarrassing)

it’s stuff like marvel failing at cooking

batman being sleep deprived and trying to parent different league members (namely marvel)

flash running into walls and things (a lot)

superman being afraid of a shoe and litterally leaping into the air to get away from it. (it was green)

anyways everyone find this hillarious and the members are a lil mortified. But fawcett takes it into their own hands to give marvel food (litterally he has too much food to know what to do with) to the point he ends up like going around sharing it with the homeless kids and stuff

not only that but the league decide to take it into their own hands to teach marvel. cut to videos being released of marvel learning to cook with different leaguers

superman: marv can you pass me a rolling pin? so what you’ve got to do is-

marvel looking at a pot of utensils questioning…. before tentatively holding out a masher: ?

superman: (blinks)

supes probably teaches him how to make apple pie and talk about how if you don’t use the sugar you can use the pie crust to make savoury pies too and blah blah life hack. his parents probably mean he’s the worst offender for trying to shove food or recipes onto marvel

hal and barry prolly teach him how to make like single guy with a shitty job type grind shit that’s like carb loaded and you can just bulk make and store ands got everything you need (cuz they always busy as hell and ain’t rich or anything so don’t got the time or stuff to make tons of food) (it kinda looks like struggle food but yk it gets them through)

hal: so yeah you just dump everything in and if it starts to look radioactive then you know it’s cooked-

billy ‘orphan street rat will eat anything’ batson: damn bitch you live like this? /silly

diana teaches him a greek dish from her childhood that she thinks marvel would feel nostalgic for (i mean billy doesn’t but he remembers eating it in past lives and the thought diana put into it really comforts him)

bruce either a) refuses to teach marvel anything as he himself cannot cook and won’t let the work know that (as all of these cooking videos have been being leaked to the internet who are EATING IT UP like it’s not just fawcett anymore everyone loves cap now becuase you can tell he’s just that authentic cuz his ass does not know these are being filmed) b) cannot cook so it ends up just being a hot mess c) they learn to make a new recipe together d) he has alfred teach him how to make something so he doesn’t embarrass himself e) he teaches marvel how to make struggle food that’s worse than hal and barry’s

marvel: aren’t you funded by a billionaire?

batman: hm

marvel: batman….damn bitch you live like this???????????

everyone just dogs on batman online for like banging bruce wayne (no one believes that the butts match :/ ) and yet still being ass at cooking, like bro is at nuclear levels of damn you live like this with his struggle food

anyways cap finds out about the cooking with cap vids and immediately gets all embarrassed that people know he sucks at cooking, fawcett lay off a little on giving him food now they know that the JL are helping him, but he regularly receives copies of old cook books and someone’s nans favourite recipe and stuff and he’s taking home enough food from the JL to actually eat well and is therefore a lot happier and so the JL are like wow marv really likes cooking, and so at least like once a week (usually more) someone (or sometimes just he will) will cook with him and he’ll take home the left overs (if people eat any otherwise he just takes it all himself (despite him frantically offering the food out to people cuz he feels bad for taking so much))

years later when the identity reveal happens they’re like wow??? this makes so much sense???? i’m so glad we’ve been inadvertently feeding the homeless child??? yippee for him not starving and being more healthy that he would’ve been????

but yeah it’s so silly and i think billy would actually love having the chance to eat foods he’s never had before, especially where he spent so long on the streets that he kinda was forced to like ration and buy cheap food, so like he’s being treated by trying new foods and risking not liking it and stuff

but yeah i just think cap cooking and baking is neat teehee

[princesssmars]

i'd love just about anyone, so why was it you?

a victoria neuman x reader

your talent for singing is finally starting to take you places in the city of lights. so why did it have to introduce you to a woman who might ruin it all?

wc : 10.248

contains : fxf relationship. readers hair and skin aren't described. fluff. angst.nsfw including sex and language. the french. barely proof-read.

a/n : i cant believe there are no fics for this fine ass woman yet but i am nothing but a pioneer idk. in my daydreams this was like mafia au victoria but i literally never write or dream of those so i opted out lmao. go watch gen v. everyone always talks about how good the cover is but nonante-cinq by angele is a beautiful album so i recommend listening to that for french vibes. enjoy <3

it was the most stereotypical and overplayed song ever, but damn did you love la vie en rose.

just the concept of the song was romantic to you. to live every day like it would be magnificent, like you could know a day would be your last and look back at it and not regret a single thing. it meant looking at the world with a positivity that these days was mostly faked or artificial.

after the life you've lived, the things you've seen firsthand, you need that positive light in your life more than anything else. especially right now, as your manager is hounding you over the phone about your next gig.

now you loved your manager, nancy, you really did. she took you in and was honest when no one else would be, stood by you when no one else wanted to give you a real chance. but sometimes it felt like she didn't really believe in you. obviously, she believed you had talent, or else she would have 'left you in the dust for the rats to pick apart,' in her own words. it was almost like she couldn't fathom that what you had was real, like you didn't truly deserve all the things that were coming to you.

but as long as you were paying her, she didn't bother to speak up on it.

you were listening to her drone on and on into the speaker from your phone, holding the object up to your ear with one hand as you hold a menu to order something from the cafe waitress who's waiting beside you.

"ill have an uhhhh... le marie antoinette, and a coffee with sugar and cream please," you hand the menu to the waitress after she writes down your order, heading back into the cafe with a smile. this cafe was one of your favorites, nestled below an apartment building in one of the inner city arrondissements so you could sit outside beneath an umbrella and admire the city before you. "nancy, i don't see why i can't just...politely turn it down? it sounds like it's a glorified pin-up girl gig, le bellevilloise is offering for me to sing there exclusively for three months-"

"no, that's what im trying to tell you if you'd let me finish." you can hear nancy's telltale sigh through the phone. she had a short temper when she was stressed, something you sadly had in common, and you could hear her clicking a pen through the receiver. "this is an international gala slash fundraiser, attended by the one percent of the one percent. billionaires, senators, diplomats, everything. the event organizer asked for you specifically, so turning it down is a bad look. aka, you're doing it. go out and get a pretty dress. ill send you more details later."

the phone shut off and you let out a huff of air, crossing your right leg over your left beneath the table. once you have your meal and bite into your pastry you can't help but close your eyes at how good it tastes; the combination of the crunch of the macarons, the near-overwhelming sweetness of the cream, and the savory juice that leaks from the raspberries never gets old.

you don't know how you feel about this whole gala thing. sure its a great way to make connections and earn a fat stack of cash that will probably last you few weeks, but you've learned before that the people that you most admire, celebrities, politicians, even superheroes, can't be trusted. and being in a room full of them to perform wasn't at the top of your christmas wish list.

but like everyone else in the world, you were finding money hard to pass up on. just by the lowball nancy told you, you'd be able to comfortably pay the next month's rent and fix up your electric scooter, maybe even enough to save up for that beautiful flat you saw online with the grand windows and nice floor plan.

it'd only be a few hours of singing and kissing up to a bunch of snobs and you'd be done. easy peasy.

finding a dress wasn't to hard. your modeling connections from before you started to focus on singing gave you access to a few, good quality clearance pieces for your picking. you figure that the people you were performing for would prefer something classy and elegant, so you picked out a sleeveless black dress with black opera gloves, accessorized by a diamond necklace and earrings. one of your stylist friends, alex, who you asked to help do up your hair told you 'you're definitely gonna shag a rich man looking like this, just ask them if they have any friends for me!' and after a quick 'please don't wish that upon me' and a spritz of perfume you were ready.

the hours before you got on stage were nothing short of both nerve-racking but exhilarating. you rode in a standard taxi, your slight jitters noticed by the slightly balding man in the front. he eyes you pretty oddly when you got in the car before using you if you were a model, telling you that his daughter would like an autograph if you were. you felt slightly flustered when you had to tell him you weren't, but gave him some tips to tell his daughter if she wanted to pursue it. after around twenty minutes of driving through the city the car stops and you're escorted by a crew member into a grand building, those types you pass by and dream of getting the chance just to step into.

after that its a rush of meeting the event planner who gives you another run down of the evening and then meeting with the band members, a nice group of jazz players who you had heard about on the news for their blends of old and new methods of performing music. they played you a piece on their instruments in their dressing room, and it felt like hanging out with old friends listening to tunes as one twirled you around and the others laughed and the air felt warm and fuzzy.

later its time for your set, where you'll sing as the guests come in and take occasional breaks to save your breath and let whoever is hosting this talk. so you get up on your mini stage, make sure you look alright and you're in tune with the band, and then you do what you do best.

you've never felt better than how you do while you sing. every time you do so you tell a story, tales of success and tragedy and love and heartache. while you sing your favorite thing to do is to admire the crowd. when you were younger it gave you horrible stage fright, but as you grew up and saw just how much people loved your voice it made you confident, if not the tiniest bit narcissistic.

as you look out at the guests of tonight you see what's expected. important and powerful men donned in suits, their wives standing on their arms in glamourous gowns, you swear that you even see some fairly famous celebs in the mix, and they were all listening intently to you and your voice.

and that's when you saw her. near the back of the room with a glass of red wine in her hand, dark hair flowing over her shoulders, and darker eyes trained on you. in this profession you get used to people staring at you for hours on end, but something about this woman unnerves you slightly.

a short while later your set is over and after a round of applause the organizer tells you to enjoy yourselves, and that you're free to indulge in whatever food is left. after a brief touch-up in the dressing room and making sure you look presentable, you head out to get yourself something to eat. you keep getting stopped by people telling you how beautiful your performance was, how they'd love to get in contact with your agent to book you for future events, and your regular dose of creepy old guys hitting on you. but besides that things were going pretty well.

some servers were waking around with trays of champagne, but you figured since everything was complimentary you would treat yourself to something stronger. you head to the bar and order yourself a strong cocktail, and as soon as you finish your order a figure sits on the stool next to yours.

"get me a scotch on the rocks, thanks."

you glance at them from the corner of your eye and feel your heart beat faster when you see

it's the woman from before. from this close distance, you can admire her entirely, and god is she gorgeous. she looks so put together, not a hair out of place, and wearing a perfectly tailored suit that makes you guess she's some kind of wealthy businesswoman.

after not so secretly checking her out, she turns her body towards you and looks at you with a smile.

"im sure you already know, but you have an enchanting voice."

you look down bashfully, thinking the same about her. she speaks like she's so sure of what she's saying like there's no room for debate or argument.

"thank you. no matter if i know or not, it doesn't take much to make me a little nervous every time i perform."

the bartender brings over both of your drinks and she tilts hers to you.

"trust me, theres no need. you're nothing but a natural, one of the best singers i've ever heard."

"ah, now you're exaggerating. is there a reason you're complimenting me like you're being paid to do so?"

she shakes her head, setting down her glass of liquor with a clink. "not anything nefarious, if that's what you're thinking. just glad i get to talk to a beautifully talented woman."

jeez, she was laying it on thick. normally this was coming from some fifty-year-old man with greasy skin and weird teeth, but it felt nice coming from her. she was obviously gorgeous, leaving her body language open in case you wanted to decline and she would walk away in a moment's notice.

"im glad i get to talk to you too, miss?"

"victoria. its a pleasure to talk to you, miss y/n."

for around an hour or two the both of you sat at that bar, blocking out the fake laughs of investors and boisterous noises of people who got a little too friendly with the free champagne. she was so attentive to you. asking about what got you into singing and what brought you to paris by your non-native accent. you normally kept the finer details of your past a close-guarded secret, but you figured there couldn't come any harm from telling this attractive stranger a few things about yourself before never seeing her again.

"you're telling me at only sixteen years old, you flew to paris by yourself and made a living for yourself? you've got balls on you, sister."

"yeah yeah, but im nothing special. i just got tired of all the bullshit in the u.s., y'know? the greed, the cynicism, the-"

"superhero bullshit?"

you giggled while she smirked, observing your smile and how it made your eyes squinch.

"well i wouldn't put it like that but...superheros? really? its just, they make it so american, in a really really annoying way. i just couldn't deal with that being a reality. and where better than paris? it seems like voughts all but forgotten about it recently, thank god.”

"i understand. and i know we just met, but it does suit you. 'beautiful runaway finds passion, life, and love in the city of lights'. best cliche there is."

"and what a damn good cliche it is to be. although i haven't been that lucky on the love front."

her eyebrow raises and her nail traces around the rim of her glass.

"im sorry but i simply cant believe that. someone like you would have people lining up for a chance to talk to you, let alone date you."

you dryly chuckle before taking another long swig of your glass of champagne, dancing just on the edge of being intoxicated. you understood why everyone else was drinking this, it was sweet but strong.

"people have tried, of course. but sadly most of my escapades end in tragedy. very melodramatically. but enough about me, I'm guessing this isn't gonna go my way and you have someone waiting for you at home?"

"im offended you still think so low of me. but no, there was someone but it didn't work out. now its just me and my daughter."

god, she was a milf. if there was a god you prayed he would let you get lucky tonight.

"well, im sorry to hear it didnt work out."

"are you really?"

she looks at you with a smirk on her face.

"no, im not."

that was all she needed to ask you to come back with her to her hotel.

and not just any hotel, she was rich enough to be spending two weeks in the damn ritz. asking again what she did for a living didn't get you very far, the only hint you got being that it helped her change the world. ominous but whatever. it had to be legitimate if she was invited to that gala.

the cautious and common sense side of you is snuffed out for the night the moment she set her hand over the covered skin of your thigh in the car, the feeling of her hand on your lower back leading you through the pristine lobby of the hotel, that same hand helping you take off your dress and take you apart slowly over the rest of the night.

when you wake up the sun is peeking through the curtains, the softness of the sheets your laying on calling you back to sleep before you get up and look around.

you only got a few seconds to admire the room last night before victoria was on you, and now in the light of day you could truly take everything in. you find a note left by the woman, letting you know she had to leave temporarily for an important job thing and that she'd be back my lunch, inviting you to call up room service and enjoy the room intil then.

you were expecting for her to tell you to pack your shit up and go, so despite the oddness this was a nice surprise. besides, there was no way you were gonna pass up on ordering a five-star breakfast you didnt have to pay for.

after indulging in a meal brought by room service and finding ways to pass the time, you text your manager after she happily lets you know that your night was a success and that your payment should be cleared shortly. while you're in the middle of wondering if you should answer her query about the host wondering where you wandered off to last night, the sound of a door opening makes your head jerk towards the small entry area, victoria coming in through the doorway dressed in a tan suit and carrying a large black briefcase on her arm.

"ah, youre still here!,” she sets her bag on a glass table near the door and strides into the room, eyes connected with yours the whole time. you weren’t feeling nervous before, but under her gaze you wonder if maybe you should have taken that free meal along with some tiny soaps from the bathroom and headed back home.

“yeah, figured i’d stick around for whatever. besides, i had to stay and blame you for my manager thinking i got kidnapped.”

“i’ll make sure to apologize and send her an edible arrangement. besides, i hope to take up more of your time in the future.”

your eyes bulge so hard you’re sure you look like a moron. you cover it up by getting up to get yourself another cup of coffe from the tray the food came in on.

“well i should’ve guessed this was more than a one night stand when you allowed me to order up breakfast. but now i have to admit i’m slightly scared you’re actually plotting to traffick me.”

"trust me, that wouldn't be good for business. id just like to see you some more, if that would be alright with you.

was that an actual question? after the night you had and the way she’s been treating you, you didn’t see much of a choice except to say yes.

she tells you that a few hours later she has a flight back to america, but that she wouldn't mind spending the day with you if you're free. you agree to get a little bite to eat and it turns into a whirlwind day of showing her around the city you call your home. she has to wear giant sunglasses the whole time and have a mysterious security detail not too far behind, but you wouldn't change anything about it.

at the end of it all, she bids you goodbye in front of your taxi, admiring the cute outfit she bought for you so you wouldn't have to go home in your dress from the night prior, promising that she'll keep in touch with you once she gets settled in back a new york, jokingly telling you she'll send you a postcard. as you sit in the back of the taxi, your heart inflates a little as you take in the events of the last day. you never liked to mix business with pleasure in this way, partly because most of those business people were gross perverts and also that it could damage your career beyond repair, but with victoria you can't help but think that it was worth it.

eventually, a few days pass by, and the only calls you've gotten are from friends congratulating on what they heard was another great performance. and as nice as all the praise and the new gigs you started to get felt, the longer you heard no word back from victoria, it started to eat away at you inside.

back at your favorite cafe you sit with two of your oldest friends, jamie and chloe, as they ramble about the details of their changing lives and jobs. you don't know when you zoned out but eventually, chloe's manicured finger lightly pokes at your cheek, giggling when you make a playful motion to bite it.

"where'd you go just now? take me with you before jamie keeps talking about his new lover."

"hey!" jamie pouts, "you're just jealous because i've been regularly having passionate sex allll night long while you're still vying over your boss." you hear a shocked gasp behind him and you all turn to see an elderly couple looking at jamie like he's said the most blasphemous thing they've ever heard.

"really classy, james." you snort.

"what the hell! you're supposed to be on my side! everyone has noticed how you've been in a better mood since that gala. alex told us how they checked up on you afterwise and you showed up a day later with a new outfit and a hickey on your neck."

"that is- god, that’s so intrusive and so like them,” you rolled your eyes. you knew as soon as alex saw you that morning that they’d be gossiping to everyone about the state they saw you in. “and i don’t kiss and tell like that. at least not in public like this.”

“ok, so we’ll stop by your place tonight with some wine and talk all about it tonight. agree?”

“what? no-”

“agree!” chloe beams and shakes hands with jamie across the table, blowing you kisses before leaving her share of the bill on the table and leaving with some excuse of having to be somewhere. you glare at jamie as a warning before he gives you a kiss on the cheek and does the same. you grumble before biting into your muffin.

a few hours later you’re sitting on your soft sofa with jamie’s head in your lap and chloe on the other side, talking and laughing about old stories from your jobs. you take a sip of merlot right before jamie brings up what you were hoping they’d forgotten about by now.

“ok ok, enough chatter. seriously, chlo, you cackle like a seagull. y/n, when are you going to tell us about this mystery lover of yours? do you need another glass of wine to start talking?”

“don’t even think about pouring me another glass. look, there’s not much to say, ok? i was singing, she was staring at me from across the bar, we flirted a little, that was it!”

they stared.

“you want more?”

“how could we not? we haven’t seen you like this with anyone! not since we took you on that tourist tour on the seine!”

that…that took you for a spin. you remembered it clear as day, them tugging you along when they’d heard since you came to paris you’d been focusing on building up your image and working. it was more a joke, but the lights of the boat, the sky and the lights made you feel like you were in the most perfect moment of your life. hearing them compare that to how you looked now had a nervous feeling building in your gut.

“we spent the night together. and it was…good. really good. she let me stay while she went out, bought me a new outfit then said she’d be in touch.”

your friends are silent. way too silent. you’re afraid they’re about to laugh and judge you before they’re squealing and tackling you, pulling back when you groan after you almost spill your wine on your clothes.

"god, why are you always the lucky one? this isn't fair! at all!" chloe groans while dramatically resting her head on your shoulder, jamie still giggling as the wine clearly starts to take an effect on him. "please, please tell us what happens next before i scream."

"no thats- i mean, thats it. so far. for now." you stutter along your words as your friends' faces go blank yet again, except this time without a hint of a chuckle or smile.

"what the hell do you mean 'that's it.'? she ghosted you?" jamie gasps.

"no, she didnt ghost me-"

"sweetheart, im sorry to say this but you have been ghosted. in a really dickhead way."

"its not like that! she's a busy person with a serious job and a kid and responsibilities!"

you briefly hear chloe snicker "milf?" before you roll your eyes.

"she's gonna contact me. and even if she doesn't, maybe it was just a nice one-time thing! everyone knows I'm great at those."

jamie snickers before chloe smacks his shoulder in a second.

"why? why did you laugh?"

they share a look before she smacks his shoulder again.

"would you stop? i have pains, you know this. but y/n, we know you. we love you. but your latest stints haven't been...the most successful. or left you in the best headspaces."

"he's right, honey. remember the last girl, hannah? one of the worst situationships i've ever seen. you told us you would be alright when she broke it off and then we found you at that lousy bar at eleven in the morning..."

you start biting at your lip. there was nothing you hated more than when they told you the truth about how you could act. it wasn't your fault that all the time your relationships got messy, or that you got attached a little quickly. people didn't understand but a life like yours could be lonely. standing up on a stage and performing for people who want you to do just that and only that: sing and look like a glamourous pin-up doll. most of the time its the other performers who even bother to ask if your throat is alright after singing for hours.

so yes, sometimes you rushed into relationships. and you might have done it again in the dumbest way possible.

"i just...she let me stay after, y'know? and she came back and brought me with her again. why go through that effort just to leave me behind like trash?" your friends pouted before closing in to comfort you, rubbing your back and giving you small affirmations.

for a month you go into a rut. unless it's performing or going to the dentist for a checkup you don't leave your house. you become pretty good acquaintances with the grocery delivery boy, benny, who started panicking when he realized he forgot one of your items until you assured him it was fine. it wasn't the first time you'd grown so oddly attached to a romantic prospect, and it wasn't the first time you'd gotten hurt by it. you spend your time moping on your couch and binge-watching your favorite show for the third time when your phone buzzes from beside you.

nancy schmancy : call me.

you rolled your eyes. she could have just called you in the first place, but no. she had to be extra about it. you press the call button and don't have to wait even five seconds for her voice to ring in your ear.

"do you want to know what mister barbier just emailed me?"

"i think you already have that answer for me."

"he said, and i quote, 'tell y/n i send my best wishes. her performance last night was hauntingly beautiful, and i'm hoping it was one of her greatest acts yet.'"

"if you ask me, it sounds like i did a pretty good job."

"it sounds like he thought you were singing your damn suicide note!" she groaned, and you could hear her face scrunching from over the phone. "i don't know what is going on with you recently, and i don't want to sound insensitive, but if you can't manage to keep your work and personal life separate, even i can't help you make it far in this business. clients may say they want you to be expressive but they only mean so far. unhappy music means unhappy customers, capeche?"

"i understand, nancy. ill send a personal apology to mister barbier."

"good. ill call you soon to let you know about any new gigs. take care of yourself. seriously."

the line clicks and you toss your phone onto the couch and take another sip of sauvignon blanc from your rose-shaped wine glass. it pained you to admit it, but nancy had a point. if you kept letting yourself mope in your feelings you'd run out of people who wanted you to sing, and if the point came where you were out of gigs...you didn't even want to think about it. if you weren't singing you weren't living.

only a few hours after that call you manage to get back to normal. you go out and get your own groceries, deciding to indulge yourself and buy the ingredients for some recipe you saw online months ago. one of your clients cries at your performance, ecstatically telling you they'll be in talks with your manager to set up a stable contract. things really start to look up. two weeks later you even manage to get the number of a cute girl, elise, a tall woman with dyed hair who reached for the same vintage music box as you at an open market.

you're smiling as you look down at the messy ink on a slip of paper, the numbers and tiny smily face distracting you as you enter the hallway to your apartment. so distracted that you nearly trip over a object on the floor, looking down to see...a bouquet?

a really gorgeous bouquet you notice as you bend over to pick it up. its a collage of dusty blues and off-colored ivories, and when you brought it closer to your nose for a whiff you felt a sense of bliss. you bring it into your apartment with a skip in your step before you spot a piece of paper among the flowers, plucking it from the collection and reading it over.

upon closer inspection, you can see its a postcard, the cover a flattering shot of the statue of liberty with text that reads "love from new york city!". you try to calm your heart down at the location and the 'love' part, but you've already gotten your hopes up when you turn the card around to read the message:

xxx-xxx-xxxx

sorry for the wait. i'll make it up to you, angel.

you'd never felt so conflicted as you did in the past five seconds. half of you was vindicated that yes, this attractive woman didnt leave you high and dry and did actually have a deeper interest in you, but the other part was angry. and embarrassed that you were angry, because again, you spent less than a day with this woman, she didn't owe you anything. but also yes the hell she did.

before you could get yourself together you were harshly tapping the number into your cell, biting at your lip as the phone slowly rings.

"y/n, is that you?" echoes from the line, victorias voice sounding and running over your head like soft silk. no, no, stop it. focus.

"howd you know it was me? im sure you have other people who'd be calling you this late."

"certainly not anyone with a phone number from paris. besides, i was hoping it'd be you."

"well, i would have been flattered two weeks ago but unfortunately i dont think your words could phase me right now."

she sighs and the line goes silent. you feel bad for being catty for a few seconds before you brush it off. she's the one who played with your emotions and promised to call you but never did. she had this coming.

"im sorry, really i am. i've been busy with things at work and my daughter-"

damn it, she pulled the kid card again.

"i just...dont like being lied to. or led on. maybe its my fault for beeing too clingy-"

"no, no. dont apologize. if it means anything youve been on my mind for weeks now."

"yeah, same here. except my thoughts havent been all that nice." you laugh.

"deserved. and id like to make it up to you."

"oh yeah? let me guess, this time we'll spend two nights together?"

"close. how about two weeks. in new york."

you don't know if you should laugh. you feel like you should, so you do. but she isn't.

"you...you're being serious."

"im being serious."

what do you even say? what do you even do? of course, whatever higher power there is would make your life stable and steady for the past few months then throw this in to shake you up. you really should have been expecting it, considering...

you shake yourself back to the present. victoria is still waiting on the other line, unwilling to rush you into a decision, apparently. you'd applaud her for her chivalry if you weren't so stunned.

"victoria, come on. we've only met once, and while it was nice it was brief. now you want me to upend my life and career to jet off to america? it sounds crazy."

"you make me a bit crazy, honestly. besides, you were telling me in bed you haven't been in the states since you left, i have a feeling you miss it more than you let on."

you shuffle in your spot, reminded that you're standing in your cold-ass kitchen and you haven't changed out of the outfit you wore out today. but half of your uncomfortableness is from a feeling gnawing at your chest because she's right. at this point you can barely remember the night you left your childhood home, but you know it was rushed. you wanted to forget everything.

"i think you're also forgetting that i have a blossoming career here. are you gonna pay my definitely going to be pissed off manager her wages? plus i was supposed to be first pick for this really good gig-"

"i'll pay for everything, i promise. dont forget that i have connections. in two weeks they''ll be singing you praises across the globe."

you close your eyes and take in a breath.

"can you make my ticket first class?"

-

one thing you didnt miss about america? just how...much everything was, all the time.

your flight was quiet. victoria didnt hesitate to book you an expensive ticket, almost taking offense to your request for a nice one and scheduling you for business class, sending you a text to get lots of rest in the ultra-luxe beds on the plane. it was probably one of the best nights sleeps you'd had in months.

when you got off the plane there were two tall escorts holding a sign with your last name on it, taking the suitcases from your hands before you could say anything and leading you into a sleek black car. a voice in the back of your head starts screaming but you ignore it. for now.

the men in the car give you some basic rundowns, how they'll constantly be hovering over you during your stay for your "protection", and that they'll be taking you to settle into a hotel until victoria makes contact, and the little voice starts freaking out again and telling you that you've slept with and are fraternizing with a mob boss. at least it's more exciting than your last few flings.

the car goes silent after that, and you put in your earbuds as you watch the city go by. you weren't from new york, but you loved watching movies set in the bustling cityscape. the buildings really are humongous, and you see so many different types of people it sets your brain on a whirlwind.

you look back down at your phone after the fifth 'the seven' advertisement in one block.

yet again you're led into a clearly extremely expensive hotel, breezing through reception before you are led to a luxuriant hotel room, the bodyguards ignoring you as you giggle and flop onto the bed, waving them off when they tell you they'll be posted outside.

the sheets feel heavenly on your skin, and with the soft sunshine from the window beaming down on you and the gentle hustle and bustle of new york outside, you think you could fall asleep in a minute. but, begrudgingly, you peel yourself form the bed and open your suitcase to start putting your clothes away before taking a quick shower in the giant bathtub.

just as you exit the shower and wrap your body in a towel, your phone starts ringing and as soon as you read the 'v' in the contact name you push answer and bring it to your ear.

"hello? vic?"

"hey, hon. eager to talk to me?"

"you called me. and 'hon'? really? we've moved to petnames already?"

"figured id start making up for those weeks with no contact. and id like to do so again tonight. i wanna bring you somewhere."

your mouth quirks up in a smile as you re-adjust the towel around your body, the phone nearly slipping from its quick placement between your phone and ear, "id really like that. i hope its out to dinner, i didnt care to eat any of the plane food."

“yes, it’s to dinner. but its up to you if you want it to be fancy or casual. i know its tacky but there’s this pretty cute french place near where i live...”

“that vaguely sounds like an invitation to your place, but ill let it slide. are you gonna pick me up or are your special agents going to escort me everywhere for the next few weeks?”

“special agents? what agents?”

a bead of water drips from your neck down your back and it feels like the tip of a knife. a pressure builds in the back of your throat and your fingers grip the fabric of your towel. “what…that’s a joke, right?”

her laughter rings in your ear and you are seconds away from hanging up the call.

“sorry, sorry. i sometimes have a weird sense of humor. you'll get used to it.”

“i doubt it.”

“and i'm hopeful. i'll let you go so you can get ready, i'll be by in under an hour.”

you hang up after a sweet goodbye and gently sit on the toilet. your brain is rushing to catch up after the conversation like your body goes on autopilot when you hear victoria's voice. its terrifying and its thrilling. and you don't know why a part of you likes the feeling.

after you brush your teeth, do some quick skincare, debate over shaving just in case, and spend twenty minutes picking out a cute outfit, you finally hear the gentle knocking on the door while you're double-checking over the content of your purse.

rushing to open the door, you're greeted with the sight of a smiling victoria, her hands tucked into the pants of her clearly expensive pinstriped pantsuit. you're admiring the look of her hair tucked back into a ponytail when she's reaching forward and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

"you look perfect. come on, i made us a reservation."

and it turned out to be a perfect night. she did end up taking you to the french place, allowing you to order whatever you wanted. that place was weirdly empty, only a handful of other patrons inside. you were pleased to see that the waitress was french herself, having a small chat about the customs and foods she missed while she praised the authenticity of the food at the restaurant.

only a day and you had already forgotten how forward the people back home could be, because the waitress throws a subtle look at victoria and compliments you on finding such an attractive woman. when she leaves vic just smiles.

“ok, id say at this point we’re doing pretty good with the communication thing, right?” you ask, taking a sip of the pricey wine your date ordered.

“yeah, id say that.”

you finger the rim of your glass, the nerves getting to you before you ask your question. "i want you to tell me what your job is. your actual job, not some vague ass title. you have security following gus around, so i feel like i should know."

"no, no, you're right. i just didnt wanna scare you off. or have you think differently of me once i told you." she sighs, thumbing the napkins on the table. "i work in the government. i'm a congresswoman, to be exact."

you don't doubt she's a politician for a second, because she shows no hint of nervousness at your lack of emotion.

"are you...a good congresswoman?"

"i don't really know how to answer that." she laughs.

"i'm sorry. i knew you were important enough to be at that gala, but a politician is...tricky."

she reaches across the table and lays her hand palm up, smiling when you rest yours on top of it. "look, i get it. i should have told you sooner but please understand why i didn't. i wanted to get to know you as normally as possible, without all of the press and politics in the way."

"normally as possible, huh? that includes sleeping together on the first night?"

you're trying to show your acceptance of the situation with your humor, but you can tell victoria can sense your uneasiness at the situation. here you were thinking you had found some under-the-radar millionaire to dote on you and instead, you'd roped in someone whose job was entirely in the public eye that could be put in danger at the flip of a switch.

"how about we finish up and take this back to my place? i'll tell you everything that you wanna know about me. no matter how personal."

you stare into her eyes for a few seconds and decide that she looks genuine, getting confirmation that her daughter is staying with a friend before ending your meal and following her to her place.

for the amount of money she's ready to spend on you, you're surprised to see that victoria lives in a chic but quaint townhome only a twenty-minute walk from the restaurant. she gently takes off your coat and instructs you to sit with her on the couch, pressing on a remote to turn on her fireplace.

after a few hours and two more glasses of wine, victoria had opened up to you about nearly everything in her life. the mysterious death of her birth family, being adopted by a man who helped pushed her to go into a political career, her polite but loveless marriage with her ex. she even shows you a picture of zoe that she has in her wallet, taking the chance to gush over her daughter. she seems like such a sweet girl.

maybe it's the wine or maybe it's the way vic is opening up to you so freely, but you decide to tell her more about your past. how you always wondered why you barely stuggled moving to another continent at such a young age, or the fact that you dont even remeber why you had the drive to leave your parents home in the first place. you didnt even remember the last words you said to each other.

and throughout it all she's nothing if not attentive, she doesnt ask questions unless you give her permission too, keeping her eyes on you and gently placing her hand over yours.

you feel a turning in your stomach when she moves a stray hand of hair behind your ear. you told yourself to try taking things slow this time, but your body is starting to feel fuzzy and shes looking at you like she wants to devour you.

she decides to indulge you and gently brushes her lips against yours, smiling at the way your breath staggers. your head moves forwards to finaly get her to kiss you but she jerks her head back.

"i want you to tell me what to do."

god, your stomach feels hot. this is new, but a really arousing style of new. the last time you both slept together she had taken a careful but unwavering charge, unraveling you with a steady hand a sweet smile.

"cmon just...please?"

"no. tell me what you want me to do."

you sigh and bite at your lip. "i want you to lay me down and fuck me. right now."

so she laid you down and she did. there were no words to describe how much you enjoyed that night on her couch, the way she could read your body like a book and brought you to ecstasy again and again and again...

and when you wake up a soft blanket is draped over your body, a brekfast of coffee and some crepes set in front of you.

the days after are a whirlwind. discreetly as possible victoria takes you on a tour of new york city, to more expensive restaurants and hidden jewels that most tourists skipped over.

youre lounging in your hotel room when you decide to inform your friends of how your trip is going. while slightly hesitant they seemed more than happy that you were enjoying yourself with someone who took a genuine interest in you.

until you told them her job.

"my love, are you insane? a politician?"

"an american politician?" chloe gasps, continuing off of jamies shock.

"hey, im american too dont forget!"

"of course you are, but please, you understand why this is not good, no?"

"you know how fishy they are, especially with all the supe business going on. that place is getting more dangerous by the day, and i dont think you should be seeing someone whos contirbuting to that."

it pained you to admit it but jamie had a point. the three of you would always laugh in amused horror at how badly things were going on in your birth country, and the politics...it was less than pleasant.

not to mention the supe business. every corner of the world had to deal with the annoyance that was vought and their "products", even france. but so far you'd just had to deal with a few perverted looks from traveling supers and talks of some stupid theme park a few miles out of the city. meanwhile, it seemed like every day a new superhero was being introduced to the American public. it unnerved you.

"i understand. i appreciate both of you looking out for me. trust me, i'll be on my guard for now on." you mumble, picking at the material of your sleeve.

"of course, songbird. we'll call again soon."

the call ends and drop your phone on the nightstand. you look at the eiffel tower cutout in your phone case and your heart aches.

the next morning you're eating a a breakfast of coffee and fruit crepes when your phone rings, dragging your atttention away from the trashy dating show you were watching on the bedroom's tv. when you see nancy's name you hesitantly answer the call.

"nance? is everything alright?"

"everything is great. i'm just here to check in about your next gig."

"my next- nance, im on vacation. please tell you didnt forget and booked me for a job when im across the ocean."

"no, im not that stupid, hon." she sighs. "i didnt even arrange this job, victoria did. im just the messenger."

you blink once. then twice. you remember vic saying something about helping you with a job but you honestly just thought that was bullshit to get her to come stay with you.

(or get in your pants. but you don’t think you’d be too upset about that now.)

“ok. thank you, nancy. tell me the details.”

it’s a lot more extravagant than you expected. victorias friend, an actual senator, was holding a fundraising event for some government program he and vic were both involved in. nancy wasn’t told what the program was, but that you would have to go through a security debrief before being told you'd be given a team to help you prepare. and picking from a selected closet of dresses. fun.

you ignore the feeling of nervousness that’s building up in your gut. because while all of your gigs were important, they were never this important. you push it down as you call victoria and thank her endlessly, when you tell your friends the minimum amount that you can tell them, and when victoria picks you up from outside your hotel twelve hours before the event even starts.

she pressed a small kiss to your hand, laughing at the grumpy and tired mumble you let out when you sit in the car seat. it only passes once she gives you a coffee she picked up, the caffeine waking you up and putting a smile on your face.

the content feeling turns into shock when you enter victorias' place and see zoe, vic throwing a short explanation of “busy babysitter” over her shoulder as she heads into the kitchen.

its a bit awkward at first, sitting on one couch as she plays on a black nintendo switch on the other. it helps when you ask her about whatever she’s playing, the girl diving into a rant about the farm game she’s playing and how she’s trying to catch a certain type of fish.

victoria comes back with a tray of breakfast for the three of you before asking her daughter how school is going, how her friends are, etc. its nice to get a glimpse into victories private life during the morning, the close bond she has with her daughter. you notice some tension but decide not to bring it up.

the morning goes by too quickly, zoe being picked up to be dropped off at a friend's house after giving you a sweet goodbye and you getting rushed upstairs as the team comes to the townhome to help you prepare. its a nice change, having other people doll you up instead of having to worry about trying to do everything correctly and by yourself. and its a perk you don't have to spend your own money to do it.

the team members are nice but punctual, finishing your hair and makeup in record time with not a second wasted. you barely get time to notice yourself in the mirror before you're ushered into a gorgeous gown, soft fabrics and a chic and elegant style.

when your finished you’re finally allowed to observe yourself while your transportation and is prepared, and it feels like you’re looking at a dream version of yourself.

as you admire yourself in the mirror vic comes up next to you, clearly enjoying herself as her eyes slowly drift up and down your body.

“you look…ethereal.” she whispers, pressing a small kiss to your cheek after you turn to smile at her.

“only because of you. i don’t know how i could ever make this up to you, vic. this is just…”

“trust me, you’ve already done enough.”

while you knew there would be some press at the event, you didn't expect over two dozen paparazzi to quickly start flashing their cameras in your direction as soon as you got out of your ride. questions about who you were wearing, the relationship you had with vic, etcetera etcetera. you would've buckled from the sudden pressure if it weren't for victoria’s steady hand on your waist, the press of her arm through her red pantsuit.

the venue is downright insane, so grand you start to wonder if you're in one of those gilded age mansions you used to read about in new york magazines. climbing pillars and art on the ceiling of the main hall, which you don't get to admire since you’re yet again whisked away to get ready.

after a few more touch ups you aren’t afforded a minute to prepare, guided to the edge of the performance area. the sinking feeling is back in your stomach. the biggest moment of your life and you feel like you’re going to be sick.

the lights dim and you glide onto the stage, able to see the shadows of the guests faces from the flickering table lights. it’s eerie, the amount of them staring up at you with eyes you can’t even see.

you were given a set list a few days prior, only a couple of songs for the payment you would apparently receive after this. the songs piqued your interest, a collection of classical melancholic pieces from around the fifties. vic told you her friend was a vintage nut, but you didn't know why he chose these for you to perform when the event seemed to have an uplifting aura.

either way it felt…different, singing this time. the spotlight was on you and you’ve never felt as beautiful as you did in this moment. everyone was watching you, so hooked on the melodies escaping your body that you could see the emotions brining some people to the edge of their seats.

you don’t let it show but you grow a bit anxious at the sight of supers in their uniforms in the crowd. you don’t see anyone from the seven, but you do notice a woman you recognized from some commercial about climate change and earth preservation, the green of her dress and the nature motifs in her outfit give you a clue as to what her power was.

just when you feel yourself about to slip, dangerously close to hitting a note at a weird pitch, you see victoria, getting deja vu at the sight of her staring at you from the bar like the first night you met. she's looking at you like she's never doubted you for a second, like you're an angel sent from above that's blessed her life.

you hold her gaze when you sing. noticing the soft smile on her face when you sing a lyric about how the feelings in your heart feel so intense you fear you're going insane.

when the first song ends the lights come back on and you're met with a polite yet thunderous applause, the smile on your face so wide your cheeks start to hurt. the presenter comes back on stage, praising your performance with a swipe at his eyes before telling the guests that the host would be on shortly, and after he gives a short speech you'd be back to sing some more. with a gentle nod and wave, you step off the stage.

you feel like you're walking on air, with no doubt that was one of your best performances yet. your emotions got a little intense there but nothing you couldn't manage, and everyone seemed to like it anyway.

you're able to send a quick text and a picture to jamie and chloe before you hear the sound of the door to your quaint dressing room open, not able to turn around before you feel hands around your waist and plush lips on the side of your neck, the sight of victoria wrapped around you in the mirror making butterflies swarm in your stomach.

"i take it you liked my singing?"

"like doesn't even begin to cover it," she mumbles into your neck, raising her head slightly to be able to hold eye contact through the mirror. "i'm so lucky i found you, y'know that?"

you playfully brush her off, telling her you have to freshen up for some mingling before you get back on stage. she gladly helps you with your makeup, and while you weren't expecting her to be so touchy tonight you definitely aren't complaining, especially when her hand starts to drift closer to the space between your legs. it takes an embarrassing amount of mental strength to deny her, promising you'll continue once you go back to her place.

once you're finished getting ready she leads you back out to the hall, introducing you to numerous business people, politicians, celebrities, etc. you try not to fangirl when you meet a singer whose songs you've been obsessed with lately and when she asks you to perform at her cousins wedding. victoria just smirks when she leads you away and you let out a tiny squeal under your breath.

once the networking is done you're able to take the time to sit down and eat some of the catered food, almost moaning at the tastes of the food. you sometimes forget just how good food could be in the states, and these rich people pulled out all the stops. you try not to eat too quickly or impolitely as victoria talks with her tablemates, some people from her job apparently. after the first introductions and praises they gave you you mentally tapped out of the situation. she luckily covers for you when they question your mood, laughing when she tells them you've had a long day of being treated like a singing barbie doll.

everyone in the room quiets down when the hos taakes the stage and starts his speech. he introduces himself as robert stendham, and you feel a little embarrassed that this man gave you the chance to sing here and you didn't even know his name. you're thinking about how odd it is that you weren't introduced before this when he mentions something about the program and you perk up.

"...extend a personal thank you to general jameson for finding the time to escape his duties to fly in and be here with us tonight, and a special thanks to director neuman for helping me with this project and finding the beautifully talented y/n to perform for us tonight."

there was a brief few seconds of applause, victoria looking around and giving out smiles while you wondered what the hell she was the director of.

"as you can see, we have a few supers with us tonight. people like hazelwood, whose efforts against climate change have lead to over a dozen organizations plating millions of trees and clearing millions of pounds of trash for the ocean. because that's what supers are supposed to do-protect us. not act like degenerates who get to do what they want because of their abilities."

your eyebrow twitches, sensing the slight anti-supe propaganda from the end of his speech. well, not anti every supe, just the ones who act like gods among men, which you could understand. but you still felt an uneasy feeling rising in your stomach. you feel vic's palm rest over the top of your hand under the table.

"which is why im incredibly honored that director and congresswoman neuman has extended a hand to me to invest in the federal bureau of superhuman affairs, and to further extend that hand to you to help participate in this monumental institution..."

everything is a fog and your brain taps out once he starts talking about what this burerua does, how they closely monitor supes and jail the ones who've caused public harm. your head feels hot and your chest feels cold, and you can't stop your body from going on auto-pilot and excusing yourself to the bathroom before finding some balcony on the higher floor.

the cold air of new york shocks your body back into normalcy, but the pounding in your head persists. it feels like a panic attack ut so much worse, like your fight or flight has been activated without anything even happening. had you rushed into all of this? chasing a girl and a dream like you were a teenager again?

yet again the door opens behind you and someone comes to stand next to you, able to tell who it is by the scent of brown sugar and the glimpse of dark hair blowing with the slight breeze.

"you alright? mr. brandon from the tech startup was asking about you, tried to make me invest in some room light plant grower hybrid-"

"why did you bring me here?"

you cut her off and the air is quiet, save for the sounds of cars and the city and the wind. it's weird, standing in a tense silence like this with her.

"how are you feeling?" she whispers .

"are you- " you turn, nearly giving yourself whiplash with the speed at which you turn to look at her. the look on her face, like she's just observing you and how you're reacting. it only upsets you more. "are you being serious?"

"yes, i am. tell me."

"no, answer my question first. why are you avoiding it?"

she sighs, brushing a few strands of hair away from her face before reaching to grab your hand, which you hesitantly let her hold.

"as you heard, im part of a buereau that monitors supherhumans, keeping track of them, making sure they cant use their powers for harm. so far we've only had to deal with supes here in the states. until one day, this couple comes in that believe their daughter has used her powers on them."

she reaches for something in her pocket and your grip tightens. she pulls out a polaroid and holds the picture up for you to see. you feel like you're going to vomit when you see you, smiling, standing with your parents in a backyard.

"what...what is this? how'd you get this?"

"the couple gave me this picture, and told me how weird the least few years have been. friends and family asking where their daughter went, how she was doing, a daughter they didnt even remeber having."

you bring a hand up to your head, hopelessly trying to dissipate the splitting headache that's forming.

"but then they said the memories started coming back. glimpses of a child running in the grass, birthday parties, graduations, talent shows-"

"stop, please just stop." you gasp, hunching over as good as you can with the restrictions of your gown. it doesn't even feel like the world is just spinning, it feels like its being played in some celestial game of pool. "so what, you're saying...you're saying i did that? to my parents?"

"yes," she reaches for the side of your face, guiding you to look up at her. "and you can do so much more. you already have."

this can't be happening.

"why do you think people react so emotionally to your singing? you think its just because you're amazing? that's not even half of it."

your breathing is picking up again.

flashes of memories start appearing in your vision. so many happy times with your parents that you forgot, friends that you left behind. how your parents didn't support your half-thought-out plan to become a singer, how you made them forget. made yourself forget.

"i don't want you to think i did all of this just for what i want. i didn't. i care about you, and i want you to help me. but you need to trust me."

the blood is rushing back and from your head, and you think about how weird her eyes look against the backdrop of the city before you pass out.

finally. FINALLY. ong i wrote like 1k in the past day because i said just get this shit over with but its done! 5 months later! hope you enjoyed :)

[kaytheday]

Things that were a Culture Shock for Dallas Winston from New York to Tulsa

Being able to see the stars for the first time. He is so surprised about how full the sky is, not that he would ever tell anybody that.

No public transportation (there is no way baby Dally ever learned how to drive and no way that he has a drivers lisence now) Buck probably taught him to drive.

He probably misses the subway and hates the bus system that Tulsa operates under (which is why he’s stealing Bucks car all the time).

Lowkey the rats. He is probably overestimating quite how much vermin there is.

The first time Darry caught him stuffing a towel in the sink drain at like 10:00 pm before they go to a drag race he was very confused.

"Why are you doing that Dal?"

"I’m planning on sleeping here tonight and if you don't keep these things plugged up when you go to bed you're gonna have a full rat invasion on your hands. They can get through pipes smaller than these you know Darrel.”

"Ratvasion up in here!"

"Shut up Two-Bit!"

Streets with nobody on them and less crowded spaces in general. Dallas is constantly asking where all the people are. Everyone else just keeps telling him that this is a normal amount of people?

Another thing that I think about is how Dallas was probably on high alert right after he moved. He was constantly used to the noise and the fighting and he was pretty paranoid about people following him and things like that because of the crime he was involved with in the city.

He was jumpy and always ready for a fight. He also thought that most of the neighborhoods in Tulsa were run by gangs. They are not (if anything they are loosely run)

The prices of things? In New York things are just more expensive. This is why he is always treating Johnny and Ponyboy because he sees that paying for three people in Tulsa is as much as paying for himself in New York.

Also the first time he got paid for barrel racing by Buck he thought he was getting gypped because it didn't seem like a lot compared to what he was getting in New York. He literally almost punched Buck's teeth out on the spot.

The accent. He would always get annoyed with how slow people talked.

"Come on! Spit it out and get to the point! I don't got all day!" He's done this on many occasions to store cashiers, people at the bar, and so many others. He gets so sick of waiting for them to say their bit.

Also the southern manners piss him off as well. He hates responding to ‘how are you?’ Or the stupid ‘have a nice day’. He’s complained more than once on the unnecessary small talk and manners.

This could also be why he comes off as rude and cold to Ponyboy especially and many others. He is blunt and says what’s on his mind and he hates small talk and unnecessary interactions. (as most New Yorkers do!) He will almost always cut an interaction short doing anything he can to get out of it. This is often what differentiates him from other southern hoods.

New Yorkers talk fast and they use a lot of complicated slang that the rest of the United States doesn't use. A lot of people get confused when he's talking to them and we know how Dallas is easily frustrated.

"I've been schleppin' your stuff around all day Buck, it's brick out 'ere and I come home to this Schlock? I gotta go lie down!" (love you and your New Yorker accent Dallas 🥰)

Let me know if you guys have any more. I love this concept.

This is inspired by some tags left on a post by @damthosefandoms

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Sirius Black was the best adult in Harry's life and I'm forever salty that we didn't get to see more of him

So, I love Sirius Black. He's a complex and interesting character that I love dearly. He's handsome, smart, brave, not as reckless as some fanon make him out to be, and above all else, he tried his best to be a good godfather to Harry.

I truly believe Sirius could've been an amazing father figure (more than he already was) to Harry if given the proper chance. And he's a much better parent to Harry than Arthur and Molly Weasley.

Here are some quotes along with my ramblings to prove it.

So, what I'm going to cover here are some quotes from Sirius and Harry that show their dynamic and how much Sirius cared and tried to be there for Harry. Also, I think Molyl and Hermione are wrong about Sirius seeing Harry as a James replacement.

“He came back to the country just because my scar twinged. He’ll probably come bursting right into the castle if I tell him someone’s entered me in the Triwizard Tournament —”

(GoF, page 290)

Harry wrote to Sirius at the beginning of GoF about his dream with Voldemort and his scar's reaction to it. Sirius left everything immediately to return to Britain — a place where he is hunted down and is a wanted man. All because he wants to be close to Harry, so he can spring up to protect him if the need arises.

Harry is correct in his assessment here.

“Poor old Snuffles,” said Ron, breathing deeply. “He must really like you, Harry. . . . Imagine having to live off rats.”

(GoF, page 534)

Ron is absolutely right. Sirius loves Harry more than pretty much anything. He would and does go incredibly far for Harry. I don't think Molly and Hermione are right about how Sirius sees Harry as James. He just doesn't.

He doesn't treat Harry as an equal to him, but as someone he needs to protect. Someone he is responsible to protect.

He stays around Hogwarts, eating rats in GoF so he can better protect Harry. He wouldn't have done the same with James because he treated James as an equal, not as someone he needed to protect.

“It’s not my fault you haven’t been told what the Order’s doing,” said Sirius calmly. “That’s your parents’ decision. Harry, on the other hand —” “It’s not down to you to decide what’s good for Harry!” said Mrs. Weasley sharply. Her normally kindly face looked dangerous. “You haven’t forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?” “Which bit?” Sirius asked politely, but with an air as though readying himself for a fight. “The bit about not telling Harry more than he needs to know,” said Mrs. Weasley, placing a heavy emphasis on the last three words. Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George’s heads turned from Sirius to Mrs. Weasley as though following a tennis rally. Ginny was kneeling amid a pile of abandoned butterbeer corks, watching the conversation with her mouth slightly open. Lupin’s eyes were fixed on Sirius. “I don’t intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly,” said Sirius. “But as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back” (again, there was a collective shudder around the table at the name), “he has more right than most to —” “He’s not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!” said Mrs. Weasley. “He’s only fifteen and —” “— and he’s dealt with as much as most in the Order,” said Sirius, “and more than some —” “No one’s denying what he’s done!” said Mrs. Weasley, her voice rising, her fists trembling on the arms of her chair. “But he’s still —” “He’s not a child!” said Sirius impatiently. “He’s not an adult either!” said Mrs. Weasley, the color rising in her cheeks. “He’s not James, Sirius!” “I’m perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly,” said Sirius coldly. “I’m not sure you are!” said Mrs. Weasley. “Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it’s as though you think you’ve got your best friend back!” “What’s wrong with that?” said Harry. “What’s wrong, Harry, is that you are not your father, however much you might look like him!” said Mrs. Weasley, her eyes still boring into Sirius. “You are still at school and adults responsible for you should not forget it!” “Meaning I’m an irresponsible godfather?” demanded Sirius, his voice rising. “Meaning you’ve been known to act rashly, Sirius, which is why Dumbledore keeps reminding you to stay at home and —” “We’ll leave my instructions from Dumbledore out of this, if you please!” said Sirius loudly.

(OotP, page 88-89)

This above quote is a long one, but I love it. I mean, this shows a big contrast between Sirius' approach to parenting and Molly's. Sirius, while not seeing Harry as his equal, does see Harry as a capable wizard who deserves to know the full picture. Sirius knows Harry would be in more danger when ignorant and wants him as safe as possible. He thinks Harry deserves to know things that pertain to him, and I have to agree with him here. Keeping Harry in the dark is what eventually cost Sirius his life.

Molly, on the other hand, is intent on keeping Harry, Hermione, and her kids ignorant. She has the same intention as Sirius: to keep them safe. But she tries to keep them safe emotionally, even when this ignorance can and does place them in physical harm's way.

And Sirius is right. Harry is capable. And a 15-year-old shouldn't be treated the same as an 11-year-old child. And let's be real, Harry was never a regular child with how he grew up, and I think Sirius sees his maturity and treats him accordingly. Sirius actually gave Harry advice to not approach danger in GOF and Harry listened to him because Sirius treated him with respect, which works best with Harry who never really had parental figures.

“I don’t know,” said Sirius slowly, “I just don’t know . . . Karkaroff doesn’t strike me as the type who’d go back to Voldemort unless he knew Voldemort was powerful enough to protect him. But whoever put your name in that goblet did it for a reason, and I can’t help thinking the tournament would be a very good way to attack you and make it look like an accident.”

(GoF, page 334)

This is an expert from the Fireplace conversation Haryr had with Sirius before the first task. Sirius shares his theories with Harry because he needs him to know who to watch out for. Because everything he does is to keep Harry safe. And this is the same approach Sirius wishes he could take with Harry in OOTP. Because he knows it works. Keeping Harry informed means that if he does put himself in danger, at least he would inform Sirius about it; Which would allow Sirius to protect him.

I'm not copying all of them, but Sirius' letters to Harry throughout GOF are so caring and sweet. Harry deserved to have more of his godfather in his life:

Nice try, Harry. I'm back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keep me posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts. Don't use Hedwig, keep changing owls, and don't worry about me, just watch out for yourself. Don't forget what I said about your scar. Sirius

(Gof, page 240)

This treatment encourages Harry to actually share everything with him and ask him for advice. Something he doesn't do with Dumbledore ever. (Harry actually doesn't like or trust Dumbledore all that much until book 6, it's usually Hermione who trusts Dumbledore fully)

“Sirius — how’re you doing?” ... “Never mind me, how are you?” said Sirius seriously.

(GoF, page 331)

Sirius again, shows his responsibility towards Harry's well-being over his own (both here and in the above letter).

Sirius is the only adult who actually talks to Harry about the Dursleys with sympathy:

“But if they do expel me,” said Harry, quietly, “can I come back here and live with you?” Sirius smiled sadly. “We’ll see.” “I’d feel a lot better about the hearing if I knew I didn’t have to go back to the Dursleys,” Harry pressed him. “They must be bad if you prefer this place,” said Sirius gloomily.

(OotP, page 116)

We know Sirius would love nothing more than for Harry to stay with him. He's lonely and bored at Grimmauld and would love to have Harry there. But at the same time, he doesn't want Harry expelled from Hogwarts and is trying not to be hopeful for it.

Sirius understands the Dursleys are awful, he just know the full scope, but it's more of a reaction than we get from most adults in this series. To me, it looks like Sirius is annoyed by how limited he is in helping Harry. He can't really do much about the Dursleys or their status as Harry's guardians.

“So you want me to say I’m not going to take part in the defense group?” he muttered finally. “Me? Certainly not!” said Sirius, looking surprised. “I think it’s an excellent idea!” “You do?” said Harry, his heart lifting. “Of course I do!” said Sirius. “D’you think your father and I would’ve lain down and taken orders from an old hag like Umbridge?” “But — last term all you did was tell me to be careful and not take risks —” “Last year all the evidence was that someone inside Hogwarts was trying to kill you, Harry!” said Sirius impatiently. “This year we know that there’s someone outside Hogwarts who’d like to kill us all, so I think learning to defend yourselves properly is a very good idea!” “And if we do get expelled?” Hermione asked, a quizzical look on her face. “Hermione, this whole thing was your idea!” said Harry, staring at her. “I know it was. . . . I just wondered what Sirius thought,” she said, shrugging. “Well, better expelled and able to defend yourselves than sitting safely in school without a clue,” said Sirius.

(OotP, page 371)

I love this scene as well. Sirius cares for Harry's safety first and foremost. Harry being safe is his top priority at every given point. And he's reasonable and logical and treats Harry like someone to protect, not like a friend.

Like, Harry when he has a problem and needs advice throughout books 4 and 5, he calls Sirius. He's Harry's go-to parental figure for advice, and Sirius takes his rule seriously. He gives the advice he honestly thinks is best and ensures Harry's safety and continued survival to the best of his ability.

“It matters because we don’t want to draw attention to the fact that Harry is having visions of things that are happening hundreds of miles away!” said Sirius angrily. “Have you any idea what the Ministry would make of that information?” Fred and George looked as though they could not care less what the Ministry made of anything. Ron was still white-faced and silent. Ginny said, “Somebody else could have told us. . . . We could have heard it somewhere other than Harry. . . .”

(OotP, pages 476-477)

Again, Harry's safety is Sirius' first priority above everyone else. Harry's happiness and privacy also take precedence over most other things. He doesn't want Harry under even more scrutiny from the ministry and the Wizarding World and protecting him from that is just as important to him.

To me, it feels like people who say he treats Harry like a James replacement didn't read the books....

“It must have been the aftermath of the vision, that’s all,” said Sirius. “You were still thinking of the dream or whatever it was and —” “It wasn’t that,” said Harry, shaking his head. “It was like something rose up inside me, like there’s a snake inside me —” “You need to sleep,” said Sirius firmly. “You’re going to have breakfast and then go upstairs to bed, and then you can go and see Arthur after lunch with the others. You’re in shock, Harry; you’re blaming yourself for something you only witnessed, and it’s lucky you did witness it or Arthur might have died. Just stop worrying. . . .” He clapped Harry on the shoulder and left the pantry, leaving Harry standing alone in the dark.

(OotP, pages 480-481)

And I love this too. How he tries to comfort Harry and make everything easier for him. When the rest of the Order were gossiping about how dangerous his connection to Voldemort is, Sirius is honestly trying to get Harry to worry about it less.

He might be lying here, but he is right about sending Harry to sleep after a sleepless night like they had. And he is right about Harry being in shock and needing the rest. I just, really like how much Sirius cares. Harry just doesn't have other adults in his life who care for him like Sirius does.

But some part of him realized, even as he fought to break free from Lupin, that Sirius had never kept him waiting before. . . . Sirius had risked everything, always, to see Harry, to help him. . . . If Sirius was not reappearing out of that archway when Harry was yelling for him as though his life depended on it, the only possible explanation was that he could not come back. . . . That he really was . . .

(OotP, page 808)

This. Scene. Just kills me.

Like, Harry understands how much Sirius cares about him, and how Sirius always puts him first. He knows the only way Sirius won't drop everything to come and when Harry calls for him is if he can't.

Because Sirius escaped Azkaban when he realized Harry might be in danger from Peter, not for his own safety, but for Harry’s. Sirius dropped everything and moved to live in a cave and eat rats when Harry's scar hurt. He stuck around Hogwarts and Hogsmead during the Triwizard Tournament, when it was crawling with ministry officials because Harry might need him. He was willing to do so much for Harry. And Harry knew this.

I think, given time, they could've had an amazing dynamic, and I wish we had more of Sirius and his care for Harry. That we saw more of his approach to parenting Harry.

[holylulusworld]

Sewer rat (2)

Summary: He broke your heart. Now he must pay for it.

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, former Mobster!Tony Stark x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, scared reader, Bucky is scary as shit, mentions of a breakup

Sewer Rat (1)

Sewer rat masterlist

Prey. That’s what you are to James Buchanan Barnes. Well, at least you’re not a sewer rat to him. As long as your information is useful to him, you’re safe.

For how long, you don’t know. He’s, just like Tony, a cold-hearted man unable to feel compassion or love. Sadly, you realized too late that Tony Stark could never love you.

“Let me get this straight. Tony threw you out with nothing but a towel. Still, you got this.” Bucky holds up the little black book. “How did you manage to steal his black book in only a towel?”

“My bathrobe,” your voice cracks, and you drop your gaze. “Did you not wonder why I fought tooth and nail to get my bathrobe, not a pretty dress or at least shoes?” You lift your head to look Bucky straight in the eyes. “The moment Tony Stark stepped into my life, I knew it was too good to be true. Whirlwind romances and men fulfilling your every wish always come with a catch.”

“You hid the black book in the bathrobe, didn’t you?” Steve smirks. He’s impressed you thought about hiding something so valuable for hard times.

“In the first months, I was on cloud number nine, but the façade crumbled. I slowly realized that Tony is not the man he loves to pretend he is. I didn’t think he’d treat me like he did last night.”

“How did you get your hands on his black book?” Bucky is still not convinced you are telling the truth.

“He’s sleepy after—” You bite your tongue and look away. “You know, sex. I couldn’t sleep and got up to get some water. I saw his little black book and phone lying abandoned on the kitchen counter. He was so eager to fuck me in the kitchen, he forgot about it.”

Bucky clears his throat. He shudders; imagining Tony and you going at it is the last thing he wants to think about. “Go ahead, tell us everything.”

“I knew Tony had lots of these black books. He uses them for notes. I sneaked into his office and stole a new one,” you lick your lips as Bucky opens the black book to check on the first names. “That night, I copied the book, writing every contact and code word down. When I came back to the bedroom, Tony was awake. I didn’t get the chance to hide the book somewhere else but in the pocket of my bathrobe.”

“Smart girl,” Steve praises. “This probably saved your life. We are not the kind of people protecting others for free.”

“I know,” you wrinkle your nose. “If you’re not useful, you can rot in hell.” You chuckle humorlessly. “I’m not delusional nor blinded by my undying love for Tony. He showed his true colors, and all I got left is the little book in your hands and all the things I memorized to help you bring his business down.”

“I will check on the information. If you tried to trick me, the things Tony said and did to you will be a pleasant memory.” Bucky’s features darken for a moment. “Steve, ensure she gets food and show her the way to the guestroom.”

“Please come with me.” Steve holds his hand for you. You look at his large hand but refuse to take it. So far, they haven’t proven to be better than Tony. “Alright.” Steve shows his palms. “You don’t trust me. That’s fair. We don’t trust you either.”

Slowly getting up, you take a deep breath. Bucky is still reading the names in the little black book. You only hope he won’t betray you too after you hand the only leverage you hold over Tony.

“The information is gold,” Jake grins while explaining every little detail he found out about the people on Tony Stark’s payroll. “He pays cops, politicians, civil servants, and prostitutes,” he laughs. “Man, even taxi driver. That man seems to be obsessed with staying informed.”

“We will start with the less powerful people. The taxi driver he pays,” Bucky points at a name in the black book. “We will talk to him first. Make sure he knows if he fucks with me, he’ll die.”

“Got it, boss,” Rumlow hums. “Do you want him in one piece, or can I rough him up a little?” He smirks at Bucky.

“We don’t want him to shit his pants yet. Bucky wants to talk to him, not scare the shit out of him. Maybe it’s enough to offer more money than Stark to him,” Steve huffs when Rumlow gets a knife out, grinning. “No violence before we tell you so.”

You’re starving. Until now, you didn’t know you were hungry. It’s been hours since Tony kicked you out of his house and life. It feels odd to give in to a primal need while your heart still lies in shambles, shattered on the ground.

“Good, isn’t it?” Bucky sits down on a chair at the kitchen counter next to you. He looks at the sandwich his cook made for you. “I hope they made something you’ll like for you.”

“I’m not picky,” you murmur before taking another bite. Bucky’s presence in the kitchen can mean two things. Your information is valuable to him, or he wants to kick you out too.

“You know,” he leans closer to steal a pickle from your plate. “I saw you at one of his parties a few months back. You helped a waitress pick up glasses after another guest bumped into her. I knew that you were different at that moment.”

“People are rude; the world too. This doesn’t mean I have to be rude too,” you sniff. “Maybe when it comes to Stark. He deserves to catch hell.”

“That guy,” Bucky steals another pickle from your plate. “Your friend. Do you think he was involved in this shitshow? I mean, he comes back to town to marry and wants to meet up with you out of a sudden.”

“If you already know all the answers, why ask questions?” You muse. “I guess he was paid to get me in trouble. I just don’t know who is behind this conspiracy and why anyone wanted Tony and me apart.”

“We will find out,” he says, eyeing the second half of your sandwich. “Your information was correct. So far. We will see if you are as valuable as you believe you are.”

“I’m not, but this,” you tip your forehead. “I memorized every shady deal and name. Whatever you want to know about his organization.”

“Jake, my smart little tech nerd, is working on finding out more about your friend and his involvement in all of this. If you are helping me, I’m helping you.”

“Quit pro quo, Mr. Barnes,” you reply, and hold out your hand.

“Quit pro quo, doll,” he says, and grabs your hand, making you squeak. "But,” he leans closer to whisper in your ear, “if you try to trick me or fuck me over, you’ll end up six feet under.”

Part 3

Tags in reblog.

[dashielldeveron]

cunning | shinsou x reader

Shinsou x Fem!Reader. BNHA spoilers for chapter 425. Note: written in a fervent haze backstage at a show I’m working and posted from mobile, so it’s much more casual than my normal stuff. ~1k words

You dragged Shinsou by his tie down the corridor towards the entrance to the stairs, and the moment you rounded the corner, you slid your hand up to grip the tie’s knot to yank his mouth down to yours. Shinsou flailed for a split second, as he always did when you initiated, as if he’s perpetually shocked that you would be so desperate for him, but he recovered, pursing his lips to return the kiss, casual, almost lazy about it—and he chuckled under his breath.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” You said with a huff, bitter you had to tear your mouth from his to speak, so you settled for pressing kiss after kiss along his jawline. “Couldn’t tell your girlfriend that you were finally transferring into the hero course—“

“It’d be suspicious if you’d been the only one without a reaction to Aoyama’s leaving, now, wouldn’t it?” Shinsou placed his hands, featherlight, on your hips and slid them up to your waist, where he tapped his fingers in a ripple. A vein in his neck visibly throbbed when you gave his tie another pull, and with a sly grin, he tilted his neck to expose more of it.

“Oh, you slut.” But you conceded, finishing your path to just before his ear and then trailed down his neck. “God, fuck,” you said, releasing his tie to wrap your arms around him, reaching up to grip the hair at the base of his neck, “I can’t—can’t believe after all of this, you wouldn’t share any shred of good news; God knows we need some after all of this—“

“I know, baby.” Shinsou pressed his lips to your forehead and nuzzled into your hair, guiding you back against the wall. “Am I not allowed a surprise every once in a while?”

“Shut—shut up,” you said, biting your lip, “You’re lucky I love you. Otherwise, your cunning nature wouldn’t be endearing. You’re a frustrating little sneak, y’know?”

“Yes, I like to think so,” said Shinsou, grinning toothily in the moment before he lifted your chin with a tap of his finger to kiss you again. This time, he returned your fervour, connecting his lips to yours, varying pressure as he pleased, letting your tongue flick at his coconut-pear chapsticked lips before finally opening his mouth. His tongue pressed against your gums in that slow, teasing way he liked, and he tilted his head to the side to reach the roof of your mouth.

When he suddenly broke from you, you let out an honestly embarrassing whine, and he rubbed his thumb over your kiss-swollen lips. “How can I stop teasing you when I get looks like this afterwards? You’re adorable.” Shinsou’s eyes, full of mischief, flicked up to catch yours. “Want me to make it up to you?”

He always thinks he can talk his way out of trouble with you, and to be fair, he usually could. You couldn’t stay mad at this man. “Sure. Surprise me.”

“With pleasure,” said Shinsou, sliding his hand to cup your cheek, and when a crooked grin stretched across his face, the haze of his quirk floated through your mind.

Feeling light.

Distant.

But very, very happy. And teeming with affection.

For you, Shinsou’s quirk always felt like he was cradling you tightly, like his love could touch you. Like you were safe. Still cogent, still in the moment, but acutely aware you’d do what he’d tell you. Others probably felt scared under Shinsou’s quirk because he was scared of them.

Shinsou traced a circle over the edge of your cheekbone. “You with me, baby?” When you nodded, Shinsou kissed you again, slow to pull away, half-lidded eyes unbearably fond. “Then get close to orgasm. But don’t you dare come.”

You inhaled sharply. “Oh, you rat bast—“

And the hazy buzz of a building orgasm flooded you all at once. It’s shocking, really, an electric sort of whizz-bang, when it comes on so quickly—and you gasped, impulsively hunching over and knocking clumsily against Shinsou’s cheek, then clutching at his blazer lapels to hide in his chest. Warmth and static and fog and gosh, you were tripping over your own feet, and you’d thought Shinsou was trying to steady you when he gripped your hip, but no, his hand kept going to the swell of your ass and down to the underside of your thigh to yank it upwards, hooking it over his own hip. Staring you down while you struggled to even keep your eyes open, Shinsou rolled his hips into yours, and you just about cracked in half.

You clamped a hand over your mouth to stifle the honest-to-God sob from how good it felt, how intense the blur and haze was combined with the distant-floatiness of his quirk, and Shinsou laughed to himself again before he buried his face in your neck, breathing you in, feeling you tremble while he ground into you, taking your other hand in his to lace your fingers together. Fuck, you were close; you were so damn close, but it’s like he’d set a lock on you, like you’d keep rolling that boulder up that hill, like—

“Ahem.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at Aizawa-sensei clearing his throat, but Shinsou didn’t rush as he dropped his brainwashing and surfaced from your neck, blinking blearily at your—your shared homeroom teacher, with crossed arms and Bakugou and Todoroki in tow, the former tactfully (embarrassedly?) looking away and the latter unable to tear his gaze away from you.

“Shinsou,” said Aizawa-sensei, as Shinsou dropped your thigh and disentangled himself from you, with heat burning your face to oblivion but Shinsou appearing annoyingly calm, “I was going to discuss your move into the Class A dormitory, but considering whom I had next door—“ Aizawa’s eyes slid over to you. “—I may have to do more planning.”

[with-my-calamitous-love]

heyy i just found your blog and read your stuff about touya/dabi and i actually love all of that, do you write headcannons too? because your way of playing dabi is so unique and canon. if you do i was thinking about his s/o being part of the LOV, like last joined. thank u so much if you’re gonna take it!!

yes i can! hope this is what you imagined non 💌 thank you for the love

DABI HEADCANONS !

touya tdrk x reader

headcanons for his s/o being apart of the league with him

not inspired by a particular song :(

- touya definitely doesn’t bat you match of an eye when you first join. he figures that everyone has their reasons for joining the league. you don’t get in the way of his, and he won’t give a rats ass about yours.

- it was never apart of his plan to care about someone the way he cares about you. he’s the type to care but show it in small ways. he gave you his coat once when you came back from the pouring rain, and claimed he didn’t want to hear any annoying coughs or sniffles from you the next day.

- you confuse his heart and he hates it. you two find yourself on some rooftop, talking about your reasons, your life and how you ended up here. you fully expect him to be an asshole- and he is- shrugging and telling you that thats how life is. but he also has enough grace to tell you that you didn’t deserve it, and that part he means.

- one day, you come back injured, small burns from a certain flame hero that certainly catch his eye. he crudely drags your arm over to the nearest sink, running your burns under cold water and bandages them. he makes sure to specify for the nonstick, sterile bandges after he’s applied a damp cloth to your injuries. he claims its because he hates the smell of burnt flesh, and knows you probably take shit care of yourself. (much to your chagrin.)

- the answer was simple. dabi gets burned by his own quirk, so he knows how to take care of burns. but something in your gut told you it was a lot deeper than that. the way this asshole cared for your injuries seemed more personal. it takes a lot of contemplation, and you fully expect a jerkass response when you ask him how he knows how to do this.

- he scoffs, and gives you the reaction everyone would have expected before he answers with something simple: “..my mom taught me.”

- in a small way, he’s shown you a side of him you never thought to see. and its the start of something beautiful.

hope you liked this anon! i’ll definitely be expanding on this idea in the future 🤍 thank you for the love

[lady-djarin]

home

joel miller x f!reader (one shot)

warnings/tags: sickening fluff, established relationship, no outbreak, sarah’s alive and well, some touching and kissing between reader and joel, still adult content but no p in v. mdni

word count: 2.6k

a/n: not edited much (that’s my motto) but i just kinda dumped this out in one go so it could be bad. who knows.

* ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

“Dad!”

Ever since Sarah entered middle school she has become quite loud.

“Dad, there you are,” she barreled into the living room where you and Joel sat on the couch. “I need you to sign this.”

She pushes a piece of paper into his face along with a pen. He quints at it to read the small print. You grab it out of his hands when he tries to locate his glasses that are nowhere in sight.

“Oh the dance! How fun,” you handed it back to him and made sure he signed it as you shot Sarah a wink as she bounced happily on her toes.

You have been dating the single dad for around six months and you have grown quite close with Sarah. Joel has expressed how nervous he is about his baby girl getting older and all the things that come along with it. More than anything else he hates the idea of her dating. He signs the paper with his usual grumpy frown but does it nonetheless and in turn Sarah squeals and jumps up and down in excitement.

“Can you take me shopping tomorrow, I only have a week to shop for a dress,” Sarah put on her best puppy dog face that usually works on her father.

“I’m sorry angel I’ve got a job tomorrow,” he did look genuinely upset that he couldn’t spend the time with his daughter.

“I’ll take you, we can have a girls day,” you had been wanting to spend some one on one time with Sarah and this was the perfect opportunity.

“Oh my god, thank you!” She squealed again and jumped on you and wrapped you in a tight hug. She ran up the stairs talking mostly to herself about what kind of dress and makeup she was planning for her first dance.

“Thank you darlin’, you didn’t have to do that.” He rubbed your leg with his large warm hand and the other came up to hold your face as he kissed you tenderly.

“Oh please, I love that kid. Plus, I don’t think shopping is your forte,” you both laughed at how true that was.

Even though you’ve only been seeing Joel for a few months, you have never felt so at home. He and Sarah have welcomed you in like you were always meant to fit in their little family. You knew you were never one to have kids of your own but the young girl makes you feel more maternal than you ever have in your life.

~

You and Sarah spend the day in the mall finding stores to invade and try on every dress possible. She finally settled on a beautiful deep purple shimmery one that made her look way older than she needed to, but it was appropriate. Afterwards you found the food court and dug into some pizza and garlic knots.

“So… since your dad will never bring this up… are you going with anyone to the dance? Like maybe a boy? or girl, I don't judge.”

You knew she probably didn’t want to talk about it as pre-teens never do but you wanted to make sure she wasn’t going to do anything stupid. Her cheeks blushed a deep shade of crimson but she giggled slightly, telling you there was someone.

“I mean… I’m not going with anyone but my friends but…”

She was avoiding telling you the truth, maybe because she thought you’d rat her out to her dad.

“Look Sarah… I'm not asking to be a snitch, I just want to make sure you’re being safe and smart, that's all.”

She looked up at you with shyness but trust in her deep brown eyes.

“There is this boy… Ben,” she had the most radiant smile on her face telling you about her crush. He’s a little older than her but in the same grade and apparently very sweet and has blue eyes and dark blonde hair. You can imagine her sitting in class staring at him instead of listening to the teacher.

“So, are you going to meet him at the dance?”

“I mean we haven’t made plans but… I told him I’d see him there, and he followed me on instagram!”

It all reminded you of the days before adult pressure and complicated feelings. You smiled as she continued to tell you about him and the things she found endearing.

“Ok now, I have to ask and be the annoying adult but have you, you know… done anything with boys before?”

While she was only just under thirteen you still had to make sure, kids do anything these days.

“Like what?” She gave you a scrunched confused face then slowly realized what you were asking. “Like kissing?! Oh no that’s gross, boys smell anyway…,” she seemed to maintain her innocence for a while longer.

Thank god.

“Well that’s fair, but just remember, if a boy ever tries to do anything you don’t like, you can always say no. Don’t ever feel like you have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

She looked a little confused at your instruction but nodded anyway. She’s a very smart kid and strong willed, you have full faith in her.

The rest of the day was spent wandering around the mall and you both finally decided to end up getting your nails done.

~

Joel came home to find you both cooking dinner, a hoard of shopping bags littered the house.

“There’s my girls,” he ruffled his daughter's hair and covered her eyes jokingly as he kissed you deeply. “How was shopping? Successful it seems like.”

“Very…,” Joel’s eyes kept flicking down to your lips, as they often did when he got home from work.

“Dad, look! We got our nails done!” She splayed her fingers out so he could inspect her manicure. You let her get some slightly ‘grownup’ nails, small extensions with french tips. She said she’ll be the talk of the dance.

“Oh look at that… my little girl is all grown up…,” he looked a little queasy and you both laughed at his reluctance to let her grow up.

“Sarah, why don’t you put these bags away and I'll finish dinner, ok?”

She hugged you tight around your middle and mumbled about a million ‘thank you’s into the fabric of your shirt before grabbing her bags and darting up the stairs.

As soon as she disappeared Joel grabbed your hips as he stood behind you and pulled you into his hard chest. He attached his lips to your neck and ran his hands over your curves.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” His voice was low and gravely in your ear.

“Mmm, not today…”

He pulled you impossibly closer and nuzzled his mouth against your neck. “Well I do, I love you so damn much,” he continued kissing down your neck and any skin he could reach. “Sarah loves you too you know, she’s always talking about you…”

It felt like he wanted to talk about something else, something more. Your relationship has been going so well and it kind of feels like it’s time to take the next step. While you both know that this is it, there’s no one else for either of you, it might not be exactly time yet to tie the knot. However you have talked about sharing a space, the idea of living together is exciting to both of you.

“Well I love her, she’s a great kid, because you’re a great dad.” You turned in his arms and returned the kisses along his jaw. Just as you slid your hands into his back pockets, loud very teen sounding footsteps came racing down the stairs. You pulled away from each other but Sarah was too busy looking at her nails to notice. The timer on the oven beeped and as Joel and his daughter set the table you gathered the rest of dinner.

You sat around the table like you always did on Saturday nights and talked about the plans for the next week and the dance. You really did love your little found family.

~

The following Saturday you sat in Sarah’s room with her and a couple friends of hers, helping do their hair and makeup. Joel happened to have a poker game tonight with Tommy so he said bye just before the teen girl screaming got too loud. So here you were, a fully grown woman essentially playing dress up with a few 13 year olds. But you couldn’t be happier.

After the girls were ready and a lengthy photoshoot ensued, you were off. Four screaming voices all trying to harmonize to some pop song over the radio made your ears ring but seeing Sarah so happy made it worth it.

The plan was to pick her up around 10pm when it ended.

So you were super confused when you got a call from Sarah around 8:30pm.

“Hey girl, what’s going on? You ok?”

All you heard at first was a sniffle, then a deep breath before her wobbly voice came over the speaker. “N-no, not really…”

Your heart stopped for a second but you tried to stay calm.

“What’s wrong?” You tried to hide the urgency in your voice.

“Ben… he—“ hiccup “He was a… a total jerk!” Her voice was strained and scratchy like she had been crying for some time.

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry… You know what, you stay in the office, ok? I'm going to come get you.”

She only mumbled a quiet ‘ok, bye’ before you slammed the phone down on the receiver and grabbed your keys. You shaved off probably five to ten whole minutes speeding through the streets to the school.

You quickly make your way to the office and find her with mascara running down her cheeks. She hiccuped and sniffled when she saw you before sluggishly standing and wrapping her arms around you. She sobbed slightly into your sweatshirt and you wrapped the one you brought her around her shoulders. After the teacher who waited with her waved you out, you gathered her into your car and made your way home.

But before reaching the familiar street you had an idea. Sarah had been slumped in her seat with the sweatshirt wrapped tight to her form until she saw the neon lights. You swore you saw her eyes light up when she saw the ‘Dairy Queen’ sign and it warmed your heart.

She got her usual birthday cake flavor of course, and you got your favorite. Before now you tried to let her have a few breathing moments but as you settled in the parking lot you tried to get some information from her.

“Are you ok?”

“Boys are so stupid…,” another tear slipped out of her eye.

“I know… I hate to say it but they don’t get much better.” You managed to get a laugh out of her which was an improvement. “What did Ben do?”

She spooned the thick ice cream into her mouth and tried to talk around it. “H-he was with that girl Rebecca all night and I tried to say ‘hi’ but he ignored me and pretended I wasn’t there. They were laughing at me…,” She resolved into sobs again and you rubbed her shoulder to try and comfort as best as you could.

“Oh god I’m sorry that’s so… shitty.” You never really cursed around her as she’s still young but this felt appropriate. It also helped draw out a laugh again, which made you both smile. “Look, boys like that are not worth your time. He’s playing games and you don’t want a boy who plays games. If anyone ever talks to you like that, it means they don’t respect you. You should only be friends, or more, with someone who respects you. Does that make sense?”

She looked at you with her red-rimmed and puffy eyes and you knew she got it. Of course she got it, she’s a smart kid.

“Yeah, I think so. Thank you… I'm sorry I freaked you out.” The light returned to her eyes as she giggled at her own words.

“You didn’t freak me out… too bad.” You were both laughing now, recalling the way you sped over to the school. “Look we can talk more if you want but I think you need some ‘you’ time tonight. Let’s get you some of my nice bath stuff and we can do a little spa night?”

“That sounds nice… thank you.” She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around your neck. On the way home you told her stories of things boys had done to you in the past. You did make sure to let her know that her dad was not one of them, he was the best kind of guy. Once you arrived home you gave her some bath stuff and gave her a clean towel and told her you’d wait downstairs for her.

You made some tea in the meantime and shortly after, Joel got home. Before he said anything he looked towards the stairs and heard the shower running. He gave you a quizzical look and you sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to like it.

“So Sarah had me pick her up early…”

He already looked concerned.

“She’s fine… it was boy drama. We talked and she’s still upset but she’ll live.”

He breathed out a dramatic sigh and you welcomed him into your arms.

“This is what I was worried about,” he sounded so defeated.

“Joel, it’s bound to happen. Every girl gets her heart broken, it’s inevitable unfortunately.” You rubbed your palm over his stubble and looked over his tired features. “She’s smart and strong willed. Boys will be intimidated by her when she realizes it.”

He softened at that. “Thank you for helping her so much, she really has opened up since knowing you.”

“She’s really something, just like her dad. He’s not too shabby,” you giggled as he pinched your waist.

“I’m not too shabby? That’s sweet.”

You mirrored his smile as he boxed you between himself and the kitchen counter. He kissed you deeply, pushing his tongue between your lips, tasting every inch of you. Your hum reverberated through your chest into his and your skin lit on fire from the inside out. Desire instantly pooled in your lower stomach and you ground your hips into his. This only resulted in his hard, jean clad thigh slipping between yours and pushing against your clothed sex. You moaned into his mouth and just as you felt like you were going to lose it, Joel pulls away and then you hear descending footsteps.

Sarah reaches the bottom but doesn’t come down, “I’m going to go to bed, I’m really tired. Sorry dad.”

“That’s ok angel, you sleep good. Love you.”

“Love you guys,” then she’s gone.

“‘Love you guys’?” you look at Joel with surprise. “Did she just say she loves me?”

He just stares down at you with this tender look, unresponsive for a few moments.

“Move in with me.”

It wasn’t a question but a plea. Like he couldn’t imagine you’d say no. Because why would you?

“Really?” Your heart raced.

“Yes really, we both want you here. More than anything.”

“Of course, I’d love to!” You squealed like Sarah did earlier tonight and launched yourself at him. He caught you around the middle and pulled you up, sounding giddy as you did while he spun you around.

You spent the first night in your now full time shared bed after Joel showed you all the ways he truly, passionately loved you.

You knew you were finally home.

[itsnevercasual]

Sweet Creature

harry styles masterlist

pairing: kinda dark!harry styles x reader

summary: harry’s mother finds a girl on the side of the street one day while harry’s away. he hears about her for months, until he finally decides to see for himself. expecting her to be an undercover rat, he is surprised to find a girl more similar to a deer in headlights.

warning: kinda dark harry kinda alludes to him doing illegal, mafia type stuff but it isn’t specified. third person writing instead of second, READER DOESN’T USE HER REAL NAME!!! she will eventually just not yet.

—

harry had been hearing about some girl non-stop. by who, you may ask?

his mother.

his sweet, kind mother somehow found a girl who was living on the streets, took her in (gave her his room!), and is obsessed with her.

“oh, harry, she’s just the sweetest! gemma says she’s like a kicked puppy, but she’s just so sweet. this morning, i woke up, and she’d cleaned the whole house! and i asked her why, because i obviously didn’t tell her to, and she said she figured she should. you’d love her. proper sweetheart.”

and honestly, it was sweet. he probably would like her if he wasn’t the way he is. because the way he is, he thinks it’s a trap. he thinks she was never really living on the streets, and it’s a ploy. someone found his family and is trying to ruin it.

but, of course, he’d never let his mother know of the way he actually is and thinks, or what he does for a living.

“she sounds lovely, mum. what did you say her name was?”

“she says it’s belle. she’s always singing some french song. i think she lived in france before she got here.. i’m not sure. she isn’t very talkative.”

“she got an accent?”

“a little bit of everything, hazza. when will you come visit? i think you have to be the one to tell her that your room is hers now. she keeps saying ‘harry’s room’ and ‘your son’s room’. i feel horrible!”

“she’s probably just weary mum. if she was on the streets before, she probably just doesn’t want to jinx it.”

“you’re right.. gosh, she won’t even let gemma and i buy her things. she just borrows gemma’s clothes and apologizes a bunch for it. i’m not sure what to do.”

“i’ll come visit soon.”

—

and he did. a surprise visit in the middle of the night, because he was convinced he’s find this belle girl doing shady things .

except when he snuck in the front door, the house was quiet.

alright, he supposes, she’s stealthy.

so he goes upstairs and quietly opens his bedroom door.

and that’s when it’s a little louder. a girl is twisted and turning and mumbling in her sleep on his bed.

all she is saying, from what he can hear, is no. no, no, no, no, no. please, no.

and he feels a little bad, so he walks over to tap her. when that doesn’t work, he shakes her.

her eyes snap open and she has probably the worst reaction possible in this situation.

she fucking screams. like a goddamn banshee.

and sure, it lasts for maybe five seconds, probably four, but she definitely woke his mother up. and it’s so loud, he backs up to the doorway.

gemma was probably still passed out. she would sleep through the world ending.

“hey! it’s just me, calm down!”

she squinted at him through the darkness before yanking the chain on the lamp, turning it on.

he could hear her practically hyperventilating from the doorway.

she let out a sigh of relief when she recognized him from the photos in the living room.

“you really are jumpy, huh?”

“i woke up to a random man hovering over me,” she deadpans.

he almost laughs.

“it’s my room.”

and it’s like a fucking switch. her breaths are staggered and labored, but she still rushes out a whole ass monologue. kicked puppy, indeed.

“oh, my god. i am so sorry. i forgot. i can— i can take the couch— you probably want to sleep in your bed. i’m sorry, anne didn’t say you were coming by or else i would’ve cleaned up—“

the room is spotless, probably cleaner than when he stays in it, but harry doesn’t say that.

“i’ll just.. grab my blanket and stuff and go to the couch. i’m so sorry, i didn’t know—“

“relax,” he finally says. “i knew you’d be in here. i was just.. grabbing a pillow. didn’t realize mum was serious about you being jumpy.”

“oh.. uh.. are you sure? i can take the couch—“

“belle— belle, right?” she nods. “go back to bed. i have slept on plenty of couches. i will survive.”

“i feel bad.”

“well, don’t.”

he should feel bad. she is very clearly not dangerous unless she is a phenomenal actress.

“you’re not mad, are you? because i can sleep on the couch—“

“jesus, are y’gonna cry?”

“i can’t help it! i’m sorry!—“

“what on earth is going on— harry! what did you do!” anne asked as she rushed through the doorway, moving to sit next to belle.

“i didn’t do anything!” he defends.

“he didn’t do anything, anne,” she repeats. “just.. frightened me, is all.”

anne gives her a look before pulling her into a hug, and she just flips another switch and instead of watering eyes, she sobs.

who the hell is her acting coach? maybe he could take a few lessons.

“h, go get her a cuppa.. and there’s those baby yogurt melts in the cupboard.”

he doesn’t comment on the fact that belle is at the very least 19, and probably shouldn’t be eating baby food.

—

the next morning, belle made her way downstairs quietly. she was surprised to see harry making a cup of tea this early, but she didn’t say anything, not wanting to disturb his peace.

she adjusted her earbuds in her ear (anne offered to buy her better ones, airpods or something, but she was fine with her earbuds, even if the wire was a pain in the ass), so they didn’t fall out as she walked.

once she made it into the kitchen, she walked into the pantry, grabbing some random granola bar.

when she turned, she jumped. harry was right behind her. well, in front of her now.

“sorry,” she mumbled, moving out of his way.

he muttered something she didn’t understand.

“um.. sorry about.. last night. i’m kind of jumpy.”

“i noticed.”

he was very short. he didn’t seem to like her much.

“you can.. uh.. take your.. room back.. if you want.”

“it’s yours. i’m fine.”

“are you—“

“i’m sure.”

rude. why was he so rude? what had she done to him? well, besides scream at him, but in her defense, he was just hovering over her! that’s weird!

—

harry still didn’t trust her after a week of being there. she kept to herself for the most part, although he was pretty sure he heard her and gemma giggling in the middle of the night.

he just couldn’t figure out who sent her. why she was here.

his mother explained her freakout when he showed up eventually.

“you gotta be careful with her, h. she’s like.. a bunny, in a way. if you aren’t careful in how you approach her and speak to her, she bolts. first day she was here, i asked her what happened, because she had this horrible cut on her cheek. locked herself in your room for a week. i think whatever put her on the streets is a sensitive topic, and was difficult for her.”

“i jus’ dunno if i trust her, mum.”

“well, i do. she’s sweet, she just needs to warm up to you. she warmed up to me and gemma after about a week or two.. and she’s been more jumpy when gem brings michael around. so.. she might just need a minute.”

“the whole thing just seems.. shady.”

“she’ll tell us when she’s ready. and until then, you’ll make her feel welcomed. speaking of, i’m gonna go wash her clothes. poor girl won’t let us buy her anything. she just has these same clothes she had and a few things gemma convinced her to use.”

—

a/n: little thing i wrote on a plane, part 2 soon-ish maybe