#i'm not ungrateful i'm just confused

[pancake-breakfast]

Normally, I wouldn't bother to share this... but I just needed to note that over 2/5ths of those likes are on a single post.

Whyyyyyy

[fartshals]

Still can't wrap my head around how up in arms the west is over Gaza considering how much more apathetic most people were about it up til last year

[bunn-iiii]

I like how I mentioned dan and phil going on tour but they weren't going to be anywhere near us ONE TIME and my mom went "okay are there tickets for a show in Colorado?" and then just BOUGHT THEM? I DIDN'T EVEN HAVE TO CONVINCE HER? AND THE NEXT DAY SHE ASKED ME "hey who are those guys we're gonna see live" GIRL YOU BOUGHT US TICKETS TO SEE THEM WITHOUT KNOWING WHO THEY WERE WHAT

[asteria-argo]

i'm so ready for today to be fucking over

[strangersteddierthings]

"What's wrong?" Robin asks, bumping her arm against his as she joins him leaning against the counter, staring out the front door of Family Video.

Steve doesn't bother to lie. Robin would know, she always does. "I'm not sure wrong is the right word, but it's, it's something."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Yeah," he says, taking a quick glance around. It's just after 11pm on Saturday. They've got another hour of work before they can officially close, but Hawkins closes down at 9. The store is empty currently, and since they're facing the door, they'll know if someone comes in. "I just don't know- I don't-"

"Gather your words. Speak when you're ready. I'm not going anywhere," Robin says, and it speaks volumes that she didn't call him dingus. Steve's never upset by the nickname, not really, but sometimes, when the conversation is heavy, he can't deal with nicknames. Especially not ones that are meant teasingly now but started as an insult.

"I feel- I feel ungrateful and, like, selfish, because I'm... I'm not happy with Eddie," Steve says, then immediately frowns because that's not right. It's not wrong, either, but it's. "I'm not unhappy with Eddie. I love him. I love him so much, Robin."

"I know you do. It's disgusting."

"And I got into this relationship knowing what Eddie's like. I love him 'cause of those things, not in spite of-"

"You don't have to convince me you love him."

"Right. Right. It's just. It's like, I thought, I don't know, that I wouldn't have to always be the guy?" Steve says, and it's followed by such a long pause that he looks over. It startles a laugh out of him at how much Robin looks like him right now. Confused, brow furrowed and mouth slightly open. That's his perplexed expression, and it's mirrored on Robin's face now.

Well. Not now because he laughed so she's glaring at him.

"Sorry. It was like looking into a mirror for a moment there."

She wrinkles her nose at him and says, "What do you mean 'always be the guy'?"

He lets out a sigh. "I just mean- Eddie's the first guy I've ever dated. And there was, like, unwritten rules when dating girls. Don't give me that face, I already know the rant about straights and their het-ro-norman-whatever-"

"Heteronormativity."

"Yes, that. I know it's bad, working on unlearning it, etcetera, etcetera. Can I just get through this using the words I do have?"

"Yes. Sorry."

He waves off her apology and continues, "So, the unwritten but absolute rules of straight dating. The guy asks. The guy plans the date. He pays, if it's something that requires money. He gets the door, offers his jacket if it's cold, gives the flowers and chocolates on Valentines Day and- sorry. The guy does all that. I do all that. And I just. I want to not, not have to?"

Robin's eyes soften and she gives a sad smile. "Eddie doesn't do those things?"

Steve frowns. "Not- he's done some of those things but it's not... It's never been romantic. Never felt... intentionally romantic. Which is why I feel so ungrateful and selfish. 'Cause Eddie's not a romantic. Not like I am. And I shouldn't expect him to be!"

She frowns. "But you don't expect him to be."

"I mean, yeah. I don't. Which just makes this worse, right? Because Eddie tries. In his own way. And I'm still..."

"What does Eddie do to try?"

"He loans me jackets when I'm cold. And it's- it's like a throwback to the upside down. He'll fold it all nice and then throw it at me full force. Like with the battle vest," Steve smiles at the memory, despite his sour mood.

"That doesn't sound very romantic. That sounds like an inside joke. He could do that same thing while not dating you and it wouldn't be weird."

"Can't an inside joke be romantic?"

Robin nods as she turns, back to the counter so she can hop up on it. "Can be. And I guess if you find get pelted in the face by jackets romantic, that's your kink."

"Why do I talk to you?" Steve groans, and Robin shrugs. "Anyway, I guess I just... I want to be the one taken care of, sometimes, but not just when- God, I'm so selfish, aren't I?" He paces away from the counter, running a hand through his hair.

Eddie's a good boyfriend. He listens when Steve rambles about sports and stats, asking questions and actually engages in conversation. He takes care of Steve when a migraine leaves him all but useless; gets him his meds and water and combs his fingers through Steve's hair softly until it lulls Steve to sleep. Eddie pays attention enough to know the little things about Steve that he doesn't say out loud.

"Not just when?" Robin prompts, and Steve realizes he quit talking.

"Not just when I'm hurt. I want doors held for me, and for him to plan a romantic night, either out or in! And I- I want him to give me his jacket by wrapping it around my shoulders like I do for him."

"I'm going to say something, and you aren't allowed to be upset by it."

Steve nods.

"You have to tell him. Eddie's not gonna know you want these things unless you say so."

He nods again, because he knows that. He does. It's just... "I got with him knowing he wasn't a romantic person. I don't want- I don't know how to say it without making it sound like I want him to change. Or make him feel like he's not enough, or that he's a bad boyfriend for not having done this and-"

"Steve! Jesus, now who's the mirror? It's Eddie. He loves you. He'll listen. Even as you fumble your way through an explanation. A conversation is not the make or break of this relationship."

Steve swallows even though it feels like there's stones piling up in his stomach. A single conversation broke his last relationship, but Eddie's not Nancy.

"Yeah. You're right. I think I'm just... I'm afraid of making Eddie feel that same way Nancy made me feel, when she called us bullshit. I was blinded-sided by it all and I don't, I can't do that to Eddie."

"You won't. 'Cause this situation is different. You love Eddie, and Eddie loves you, and that's real and true. I think it would hurt Eddie more to think there's this whole other category of shit he could be doing for you, but isn't, 'cause he doesn't even know you'd like it, much less want it."

Steve nods as she speaks. It's all true, and he feels less like there are stones in his stomach. "Thanks, Bobbin. I don't- I might give it a few days before I talk to Eddie about it, but I will."

"You better, dingus," she hopes off the counter and looks at the clock, groaning when she sees it's still not midnight. "Think Keith will kill us if we close early?"

"No way. He'd have to cover all our shifts until he can hire replacements. We're too valuable to him to die."

-

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @skepsiss @afewproblems

[entitled-fangirl]

Meek.

Cregan Stark x Baratheon!reader

Summary: Cregan is determined to be a different man for his betrothed than the men in her family.

Warnings: poor treatment of women, sexism, cursing, talks of sex, making out

A/N: Based on TWO asks!!!! Also--- not proofread😯

Masterlist

....................................................

Everyone knew the absolute torment that house Baratheon put their women through.

They were cruel to them, not caring for anything but their own pleasure. That was well known.

When Cregan was betrothed to Lord Baratheon's second eldest daughter, he wondered how she'd fair under the Northern weather.

Lord Baratheon didn't even bother to see her go, sending her off to the Wolf with just her handmaidens and guards to see her safe to Winterfell.

Cregan stood at the doors, his shoulders back in a display of northern pride. He was beyond grateful to rid the sweet woman from the ungrateful Baratheons.

The moment her horse stepped through the gate, his people were attentive to her, taking her belongings and beginning to carry them into the castle.

She watched them with widened eyes, confused by their kindness. Cregan quickly stepped down the stairs to her, "Welcome, my lady."

Her head snapped to him and looked down at him from her horse. She said nothing in fear of saying the wrong thing.

He reached up and gently pulled the reigns from her hands. The leather slid from her grasp slowly. She dared not to intervene. 

Once he had the reigns in his hand, he pulled on them, walking the horse further into the yard and closer to Winterfell.

She merely let him as she held to the saddle. 

Cregan felt a small smile grow on his face. She was a curious thing. It was too bad she wouldn't voice her thoughts. 

As he looked up at her, he decided then to change that. He would get her to open up one day.

He tied the reigns off and held out his hand to her. "Let me help you." She reminded him of a skittish doe, ready to run at any sign of danger.

Her shaky hand reached out, and she swung her leg over the horse. She stared at him expectantly.

He let go and grabbed her waist, holding her as he slid her down the horse's side and placed her on the ground.

"Thank you, Lord Stark," her soft voice finally spoke.

He swore he'd never heard anything sweeter.

How the Baratheons could bare to mistreat her, he'll never know.

…

He told the North that he was in no way going to rush the marriage. So she stayed in the Winterfell walls unwed so he could understand her more before becoming one.

He felt like he owed her that. 

She deserved to be known. 

She had become a little more comfortable around him, beginning to slowly speak to him about only the things that were essential to say aloud.

The two walked the grounds together, a routine they had developed over time. 

"I wish you'd speak about things that don't matter," he finally mentioned. He peeked over to her to see her reaction.

Her brows furrowed as she stared in front of her, "I don't understand."

"I didn't mean it in that sense I suppose." He reached up with his free to stroke the hair on his chin in thought of what to say. "I want to know the things that you worry I'll find unimportant. Does that make sense?"

She hesitantly shook her head.

He sighed softly at how to correct his words. Finally, he shrugged. "I want to know you."

"You do," she countered quietly. 

"I don't," he smiles as he brushed hair behind her ear, "but I'd like to."

She sucked in a sharp breath at his touch to her face. The men in her family were far from this gentle. "I assure you there is nothing of interest to me."

"There is, I'm sure. I'll find it."

She nodded, "Whatever you wish, my lord." She began to walk again.

He pulled her back, "Not so quickly." He reached down and pulled both of her hands into his. "Don't say what you wish me to hear. Say what you are thinking."

"Why would I do that?" She asked innocently. 

He cursed under his breath but didn't let her see the way his jaw clenched. "It matters to me. Your thoughts, I mean."

She stared at their intertwined hands, "Even the unpleasant ones?"

"Especially the unpleasant ones."

It was a strange concept for her, but she nodded as her brain began to truly consider what he was asking for. 

He smiled in relief, still holding one hand and beginning to walk again. "Let us start with simple matters. Perhaps… your favorite novel?"

Her head snapped to him, "I don't… I…"

His thumb rubbed over her knuckles, "I know you have one. I've seen the way book pages soak you in like water."

The question had been a sensitive one. She shrugged in a fake nonchalant fashion and kept walking, "I don't have one."

He hummed lowly, a small warning. "Don't lie. Just say what it is."

"I… I don't remember the name of it," she finally admitted. 

He accepted that answer. "I see. What was it about?"

Her big eyes looked up at him, debating what to say. "It was… a fiction."

He smiled, "I see. There can be enjoyment in fictional novels, can't there?" He waited to say what else she would say. Each new piece of herself she revealed to him, he treasured like a precious stone.

"Well… it is the only one I've read, I'm afraid," she smiled weakly, eager to change the subject.

"The only?" He asked in pure shock. "The only one?"

She nodded, keeping in a certain side of herself. "It was left behind. Father has it."

"Ah," he said finally. 

…

That evening, he wrote to Lord Baratheon, urging him to send her favorite book. He was straight to the point, telling the man he could send the novel to earn Stark's forgiveness for avoiding the wedding.

…

A few weeks later, a letter arrived addressed to Lord Stark. He almost ripped it out of the maester's hand in concern when he saw the Baratheon sigil in the wax. It was a thick roll, only making his concern spike.

He pulled it open, revealing a few pages that fell from his hand. 

Book pages.

Ripped book pages. 

He picked up one with a shaking hand. He began to see red as he looked back up at the maester. "What is the meaning of this?"

The maester held out his hand, "Allow me to read this for you, my lord."

Cregan handed the letter to him as he began to gather the few book pages that were sent to him.

The maester's face turned white. "He dares to disrespect you."

"Do not tell me these are what I believe them to be," he growled lowly.

"I'm afraid they are."

Cregan's hand slammed the papers onto the desk in pure rage and stormed out of the room.

…

Cregan swung his sword with a fury. His sparring partner could hardly keep up, but he knew his Lord just needed to get out his anger.

His partner was grateful when Cregan's betrothed interrupted them.

"Cregan?"

Cregan faltered, freezing in place and turning his head to her. "Yes?" He asked with a surprisingly soft voice.

She wrung her hands nervously. "I… Forgive me. I shouldn't have interrupted."

He stood up tall, handing his sword off to his partner and waving him off. "No. Please. Tell me what you need."

She hummed and let out a deep breath. "I've been thinking."

He nodded, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Aye…"

"I'm ready to marry you."

He sucked in a sharp breath. "What?"

"I- I want to marry you, Cregan."

He saw the absolute nervousness that radiated through her frame to admit that to him.

He stepped to her, "You're sure?"

She nodded. "If you still want me."

He stepped further to her in urgency, "Of course, I do. Never think that I wouldn't."

She stared at him, now unsure of where to go from there.

Cregan smiled. "Shall I set a date for the wedding then?"

Her eyes lit up. "Would you?"

"I would. And I shall. We shall have it two weeks before Winter strikes. I will leave for the Wall not long after. Would that suffice?"

She looked down at her hands. 

"What?" He tilted his head down, hoping to get her to look at him. "Did you wish for after winter? That could be quite a while."

She had worked herself up just to admit wanting to marry him. How could he expect her to do more?

"Talk to me, pretty girl."

She'd never been called that before. It made something inside of her stir. 

"It's so far," she whispered.

He felt a chill down his spine at her small confession. He gulped as the anger left him completely. "Sooner then?"

"Sooner."

He nodded, biting his lower lip in deep thought. "Aye. Soon then."

A bright smile pulled at her lips. "Thank you, Cregan."

He grinned back. "Of course. Now, go on," he tutted playfully, "Your betrothed must finish his spar."

Red came to her cheeks, "Right. Right, of course. Excuse me, Lord Stark-"

"-Cregan," he quickly corrected.

"Cregan."

He watched her leave. There was a slight skip to her step now that he hadn't noticed about her before. 

Perhaps she was finding happiness in Winterfell.

…

The wedding was a large northern celebration. The bannermen and families came  from miles around to witness their Warden's wedding.

Everyone was too kind. It was beginning to worry her.

"Quite the feast, I'd say," Cregan smiled at her as the two sat at the high table. 

Her hands immediately reached for her chalice of wine.

And she didn't stop for the entire night.

…

"Let us retire," he suggested when she tried to refill her cup again. His hand reached out and gently placed it over hers. "It is getting late. And before you fret, the bedding ceremony will not happen. It is only you and I."

Her eyes softened in surprise, not expecting him to say that. "One more glass for courage?" She slurred slightly.

His brows ticked down for only a second before he composed himself. "Courage isn't needed for this. Are you truly this nervous?"

"I'm perfectly content," she huffed. 

The crease between his brows returned. That was uncharacteristic of her to speak in frustration. Had the wine affected her? "Then let us go, hmm?"

She nodded, setting her cup down. "Very well."

He stood, offering his hand out to her. She took it and stood, trying to hide the slight falter in her first step. She moved her hand up to his bicep, letting him lead her from the banquet hall.

Entering their chambers, she sat on the bed. "Will you have me on my back or shall you take me from behind?" She asked bluntly, no hint of embarrassment or hesitation to her.

Cregan hand on the doorknob faltered. He locked the door and turned to her with shock on his face, "What was that?"

"Which way do you fuck, Lord Stark?" She asked in the same tone.

He shook his head with an amused chuckle. He stepped to her, reaching down and pushing her chin up to look at him. "I will not be fucking you tonight." He watched her posture change, a relaxation coming to her. "Why would you ask something so crude? It's unlike you."

"You wanted me to speak my mind, and I have," She stated in frustration. 

"You certainly have," he commented. "But I have a feeling that the wine is twisting your words. Tell me why you indulged in so much wine tonight."

She shrugged, "Why do you care?"

He gently pulled her chin back up, "I care about you."

"There it is." Her nose twitched. "I don't know what to do when you say things like that."

He stood straight, "You didn't answer the question."

"Fine!" She stood up and stepped around him, "I drank so much because I have never known a man to be as kind as you and it frightens me."

"Frightens you? How so?" Cregan was beyond confused. He turned to watch her.

She stepped to the fireplace and buried her hands in her hair in frustration. "I've never wanted to speak my mind to anyone until I met you, and now I fear I'll say something I shouldn't and ruin it all. Do you know what that feels like? To know that one wrong word could send you back to…" Her voice faded off. 

"I don't. And neither do you, because regardless of your words, I'm not going to send you back there. You're a Stark. The Baratheons are only a name now- if you want them to be, that is. If you want to truly be a Stark in name and heart." He offered. His calculating eyes watched her closely now, frowning at the tugging of her hair.

"Even after I've indulged myself in wine and ruined our wedding to the point that you refuse to consummate the marriage with me?" She turned to him and only then did he see the glimmer of the tears that sat in her eyes. 

"You did not ruin anything. But I will not sleep with you as long as you are not fully aware of your actions."

"I am aware," she huffed.

"We shall see in the morning." The slightest amused smile come over him. "I promised to take you to bed one way or the other. Perhaps tonight, it is only to sleep and nothing more." He walked to her. "Turn around. Let me undo your laces, stubborn woman."

She did as he asked, pulling her hair over her shoulder. "Will I regret this tomorrow?"

"The marriage or this particular conversation?" He asked. "If it has to be one, I hope it is the latter. I personally enjoy the former."

She hummed, pulling her outer dress down once Cregan had untied it enough. Layer by layer, she threw each piece to the cloth chair not far from the fire. 

Cregan's careful hands untied each string they came across. 

Silence filled the room, and she broke it with a small sniffle. Her voice was much softer now, "Do you believe my father didn't want to be here? Is that something you believe?"

Of course, he believed it, but he wouldn't say it. "I'm not sure. Do you, sweet girl?"

She hummed, "I do."

That surprised him. "Ah. Do continue speaking your mind, please. Do not let me stop you."

"He has a particular hatred for women. I'm not sure where it started. When he had a firstborn daughter rather than son, my mother was fearful for the girl. I was second. He married us off without a second thought. Dare I admit to you that he signed me away to you without truly reading the document?"

Cregan placed his hands on her clothed hips and spun her to face him.

No wonder she came here so fearful. She was mistreated from the beginning. He stared into her eyes for a moment, letting the silence settle. He reached up and brushed his fingers on her cheek. "How could a man ever hate you?" He asked with a barely heard voice.

Her heart jolted, "I have never felt love before. Is it supposed to feel this warm?"

Cregan let out a joyful laugh as he ran his hands through her hair. "I want to say yes, but you're near the fire. And the wine is coloring your cheeks. We shall revisit this when you are well. Let us get you to bed."

"Bed? Right." She pulled herself from him and moved to the bed. She tucked herself under the covers.

Cregan's smile stayed. "Are you warm enough for the night?"

"Yes, but… are you not staying?"

He shook his head. "I don't want you to wake in a fright if tonight's details blur in your mind. Waking beside me may be startling for you."

"No! I-" she looked around the room in thought. "I want you to stay. I want that."

His head tilted. "Alright. If you want this. But know that nothing will happen to you while I stay here tonight."

"I can live with that," she admitted as she laid on the bed completely.

Darkness filled the room with Cregan blew out the candles, and the bed dipped down as he laid on it. 

…

In the morning, she awoke with a groan. The sun was burning her eyes. 

"Ah, you're awake," Cregan's voice commented from across the room.

She sat up and rubbed at her eyes until they were raw, determined to get the feeling to fade. When she did, a headache began to erupt.

"Easy," he chided as he walked to her. He reached to the nightstand and held a cup out to her. "The maester made a tea to help with the pain."

She sipped it gratefully. "I had the strangest dream that I'm fearing is true," she said with a groggy voice.

He watched her with a glimmer in his eyes. His hand reached to her and smoothed her hair down.

She peered up at him. She wondered how someone could be so thoughtful.

"Tell me something," he said as sat down at her side. "If that's alright."

"Anything," she whispered. Her eyes flickered to his lips. 

"Is the warmth still there?" 

He watched her face began to near his. She placed her hand on his leg to help her lean over to him. "I believe I love you," she admitted gently.

He smiled and leaned the rest of the way to her. His lips kissed her softly and slowly. 

Before she could truly react, he pulled away again. The grin on his lips returned, as were his hands in her hair, "I was going to gift this to you yesterday, but I believe today is a better day for it."

"Oh," her shy demeanor returned and she set the cup down.

"Don't fret. You'll adore it. Or… I hope you do."

She watched him get up from the bed, beginning to dig though a drawer in his closet. 

He returned with a book in his hand. "It took some time, but I believe it was worth it."

She reached out and took it, examining the cover. She only stared at it for a moment before her eyes lit up. "Is this-?"

"Your favorite novel? It is." His head tilted back and forth, "Or, at least, I believe it is."

"This isn't the same copy as the one with my Father," she remarked.

"No, it's not. I tried to recover it but was unsuccessful. I hope this copy with be worthy of your happiness."

"Oh, Cregan," she mused. "It's… it is too much. I don't understand."

"It is a wedding gift. Do not think twice about it. You haven't the feignest idea of how far I would go to please you," he admitted.

"I've never had someone do something so selfless on my behalf." She hugged it to her chest, "Tell me how you managed it."

He smiled, content with the way she cherished the book. "I admit that I wrote a letter to your father, asking for the book. I was sent ripped pages in return-"

He faltered at the way her face fell.

"-But," he continued, "I sent the pages off to three well-read men and promised them anything to the man who found the novel it belonged to. It took a while, and I feared I would not have it in time, but alas, one of them found it. And here it is."

"What did he wish for?"

He frowned slightly, "Don't fret over that. Just know that it is all handled accordingly."

She pulled it from her chest to look at it again to guarantee that it was indeed real. "You are the most spectacular man I've met." She looked up at him. "I don't know what I have done to deserve you, but I shall spend my entire life thanking the gods for you."

"It is only a novel, my girl."

"It is much more than a novel."

"Then you'd hate to see what else I'd get you to only see a smile come to your lips."

She leaned over to him again as before, "May I kiss you?"

"Of course," he smiled. 

She grinned and pushed herself into his lap completely, pulling her body as close to his as she could, careful to not hit him with the book still in her hand. 

She finally connected their lips with a heavier intent than they had shared before.

He groaned against her and wrapped his arms around her.

"I'm certain," she panted against his lips, "I love you."

"My girl, I've loved you since the moment you arrived in Winterfell."

She pulled away from him completely. "W… What?"

"Since that day," he said as he brushed his thumb over her cheek. "I've been quite sure that I love you."

"You feel warmth when you are with me?"

"When I see you, I want to keep you beside me. I want to hold and kiss you until you're dizzy. I want to watch you sit and read until you become one with the sofa," he chuckled, "I want to see your joy as much as I can. I want you."

"You're unlike any man I know."

"That's alright. Isn't it?"

She chuckled as full relief flowed from her, as if only now accepting that she was safe here. "What a silly question, my lord."

He tilted his head playfully. "My lord?"

"It was my attempt at a jest," she admitted sheepishly. "Was it a poor one?"

"No," he countered. "I was just not expecting it from my meek wife. Perhaps she is not as meek as I once thought."

She laughed again, "Perhaps. We'll see, won't we?"

He kissed her cheek, "I cannot wait." He spoke in her ear, "But for now, be gone. You have a novel to read, don't you?"

Her eyes lit up and she clambered out of his lap. "I do! Oh, I do!"

Cregan watched the woman run to the cloth chair by the fireplace and sit, pulling her book open in a rush to absorb its words.

He chuckled and stood as he began to dress, "I'll fetch you for dinner. There's breakfast on the table from earlier. I expect you'll be content until then," he teased.

She looked up and nodded, "I will."

"Read closely. I expect to hear a summary at dinner of whatever chapters you consume."

She grinned from ear to ear as he left.

………………………………………………….

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver,

[redflagshipwriter]

Fast Car Three (of four)

masterpost

“Why would I ever need help from Victor?” Danny scrunched up his brow and puzzled aloud after his passenger got out. He didn't mean to be rude but he was genuinely confused. Vic seemed nice enough, but he was kinda delicate, wasn't he? He was scared of Batman. What for? He was just some guy who was so risk-averse that he wore a motorcycle helmet out in public. He probably held the world's record for diagnosed anxiety disorders or something. 

‘I’m lucky he's so reactive,’ Danny chided himself not to be ungrateful. ‘If he wasn't, like, hyper-vigilant I might have had to talk to Batman. Horrific.’

He shuddered at the thought. He had planned to work a little more, but Danny decided to go back home and rest for a bit. His nerves were a little shot after the excitement of the morning. 

Oh, right. He hadn't checked what his tip was yet. Danny unfolded the bills and his eyes bugged out. “This is fifty dollars,” he said incredulously. “He paid me fifty dollars to take him like 10 blocks, with a 50 block detour.” 

Was Victor, like, okay? Danny cast a dubious look back in his rearview mirror and caught the barest glance of Victor's ridiculously jacked form disappearing into one of the murder warehouses. What a guy. Why'd he do-

“He was hitting on me?” Danny's voice reached a whistle pitch. Ah! Ah!!! Holy shit. What the hell? His face burnt red and he floored it back to his apartment complex, trying to get his heart rate under control. 

It was so obvious in retrospect! The weird awkward pauses in conversation! The huge tips! Asking for his number! 

Danny pulled to a stop at a yellow light rather than run it explicitly so that he could bang his head against the steering wheel. 

“I don't even know if he's hot,” Danny wailed. Instantly he knew it was a lie. He didn't know what Victor’s face looked like. He didn't remember what the photo had looked like anymore and the information was long gone. But he knew that Victor was tall, fit as fuck, and had really nice hands. 

Danny bit his lip and howled sadly. It helped, a little. He stole a glance at the receipt with Victor's phone number on it. He couldn't help but memorize the number. 

“I'm not going to call,” Danny told himself. Even if it was flattering. Victor might be a sketchy guy! Only sketchy people were out at the hours Danny worked. Danny couldn't afford association with anyone like that because he needed the authorities to never ever look at him. 

Also, and probably more importantly: you can't go to medical school if you have any kind of criminal record. If Danny was going to be Doctor Fenton the fourth and be able to provide his and Ellie's medical care, he needed to be a model citizen. He couldn’t trust that Vic would keep him out of whatever weird shit he was involved in.

Well. It wasn't like he was complicit in anything. Danny parked his beloved shitty car in the garage and took the stairs up to his apartment. He opened the door, saw Batman in his kitchen, and closed the door.

“Fuck.” 

Danny turned intangible and dropped like a rock through the floors. He was back in the driver's seat in less than 5 seconds. He turned it on and called Victor with one hand, because he'd just gotten the guy's number and he didn't exactly know a lot of Gothamites. “Hey, what do I do if Batman is in my apartment?” He said as soon as it connected. He turned the car on and peeled out onto the street.

“Wha- move, I guess. Is he there for fucking real?” Victor's electronic voice somehow managed to come across incredulous. “You probably shouldn't go back there. You're in your car?” A horn honked in the background. “You're faster,” Victor said. His confidence gave Danny a little. “I'll send you my gps point. Come to me and we can strategize how to get him off your tail.”

Danny swallowed hard. “Okay,” he said, and violently repressed the part of him asking why this nervous ass Gothamite would know any better than he did. At least Victor was a local. His phone pinged and he opened up the address. “Got it.”

“See you soon.” Victor hung up. 

Danny burnt rubber out of there, heart all the way up in his throat. Why was Batman after him? What did he know? He gasped for air, feeling like he was choking. He needed to be normal. He needed to- to get his degree and get his career and never ever have a whole fucking militaristic brancho of the government after him. He was one guy. When he was 14 he'd thought it was a funny game and the GIW were a bunch of chumps. But they were a bunch of chumps with money, weapons, and numbers. He couldn't afford to fuck with them. The fact that his parents gritted their teeth through associating with the GIW was the only thing that kept suspicion off of Danny.

He cycled through a panic attack and then into anger. What the hell, dude? Danny got that Batman had a bee up his ass about metahumans “in his city” (like he fucking owned it??) but Danny wasn't causing crime or fighting it. He was going to classes and trying to survive. Batman had no right to get involved in his business. 

He was steaming mad by the time he pulled up to where Victor was waiting for him. Victor hauled open an old style garage door and ushered him in quickly. Danny parked inside and sighed over the steering wheel. It took a few moments to center himself and then he got out. “Hey.” He lifted a hand in greeting and then shoved it in his pocket, feeling unimaginably weary. It wasn't even 5 am, jeeze. What was his life? “Thanks for answering.” He cleared his throat and bumped his butt against the hood of his car. “Helluva morning,” he complained dryly.

“It's no problem.” Victor seemed a little stiff and uncomfortable, standing in the middle of the other parking space. Either that or he was posing. “It's not your fault.”

Danny let out a snort. “It's not, but what does that matter?” He shrugged. And then he realized- “Wait, do you know what I am- scratch that.” He made a hand gesture to wave that away. Victor had known what Amity Park was offhand and he'd had a chance to see Danny phase the car through solid matter. “I guess what matters more is why Batman is on my ass. D’you think he knows?” 

Victor looked at him for a long time. “No…” 

“No, what?” Danny narrowed his eyes up at the taller man. 

“I don't think Batman knows that you're…” Victor made a gesture at Danny that explained nothing. “Whatever you are. I think he wants to ask you what you know about me.”

Danny stared blankly at him. “About you,” he echoed. He gave Victor a dubious look. “Why would he care about you?” 

Victor lifted a gloved finger and pointed at his helmet as if that was supposed to mean something. Danny tilted his head to the side like a bird and raised one eyebrow. “Because I'm the Red Hood?” Victor said dubiously. “You know that, right?” 

“You're Victor,” Danny said. He furrowed his brows. “Is - is The Red Hood like, your drag persona or something? Cool for you but it's not really relevant -” 

Victor tore off the helmet to reveal a face that was a lot younger than Danny had anticipated. “It's not a drag persona,” he snapped. “It's- I'm the Red goddamn Hood! You have to have seen me on the news!” 

Danny mutely shook his head. He thought about saying that he didn’t watch the news, but he sort of felt bad for the guy. It was probably safer not to comment.

“It's been non-stop,” Victor said, and Danny could really tell how incredulous he felt without that goofy voice filter effect removing the pout from his voice. “I dropped 13 human heads off at the police station yesterday. Come on!” 

He blinked. 

Wait.

One.

Second.

“You had me take you to the police with contraband?” Danny roared, incandescent with fury. 

“Uh.” Victor looked a little shifty now, even with that dweeb ass mask covering from his eyebrows to his cheekbones. “Yeah, I guess-”

“I'm going to go to medical school!” Danny roared, and suplexed the bastard. Victor went down with a howl and a valiant attempt to dig out Danny's eye with his bent index and middle fingers. Danny went selectively intangible and rolled them both over to start slapping Victor on his stupid face. “I-” slap “can't” slap “have” slap “a criminal record!” He leaned so far forward that his lips were nearly touching Victor's. “Capiche?” Danny jabbed a finger into Victor's stupidly ripped chest. 

“Um.” 

“Capiche? Understand? Do you get my meaning?” Danny howled. “I am an illegal entity! My paperwork is suspect!” He dug his knees a little harder into Victor's sides, struggling to control his strength. 

“Hey man, me too,” said Victor. He seemed mildly surprised by this commonality. “That's why I can't get a driver's license.” He put his hands up by his head. The movement made his incredible biceps sort of…pulse. Bulge? 

Danny blinked, attention caught by something about what Victor had said. “How'd you get your Uber account verified without- oh my god!” He threw his hands up in disgust. “You're not even Victor, are you? Your first word to me was a lie?” 

Not-Victor laughed. Danny was surprised enough that he loosened his grip. But the other guy didn't try to get out. “You're fun,” he said. He had a nice smile, crooked and kissable. Oh, fuck.

Danny felt his whole face burn red. Shit. Abort. He scrambled up, suddenly mortified that he was sitting on the other guy. “What's your name?” he demanded, trying to sound unaffected and mean. 

“Jay.” 

“You're sure this time?” Danny managed to work up a little more indignation. 

“Hands to god, on my grave,” Jay promised. Danny sort of hated that he believed it. 

Danny relented. “Fine.” It wasn’t like he had any moral high ground to stand on about maintaining secret identities, if he was honest. He huffed and crossed his arms. “How do I get Batman off my ass? I'm guessing you don't want me to talk to him about you.”

[perkypeony]

𝕋ℝ𝔸ℙℙ𝔼𝔻

Yandere Gojo Satoru x fem reader

The days blur together in a repetitive cycle. Trapped in Satoru's apartment with no phone and no human interaction, y/n begins to feel her sanity slip.

“Is he still mad at me?” she mumbles to herself. It has been five days since Satoru left for a mission. He told her that this mission would take three days, yet he's nowhere to be found. Not that she doesn't appreciate the alone time, but the thought that he might purposely leave her alone in this apartment to die and rot is too haunting to ignore.

She gets up from the bed and makes her way to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, she sees an egg. There isn't much left in there; a few more days without his return and she will be starving. She makes scrambled eggs and toasts a slice of bread. As she eats, her mind can't stop recalling her argument with Satoru the night before he left.

The soft glow of the TV bathes the living room in a warm light as y/n absentmindedly flips through the channels. It is one of the few things left that she can enjoy in her otherwise restricted life.

Suddenly, the screen goes black, and she turns to see Satoru standing by the TV, remote in hand. His usual smirk plays on his lips as he approaches her.

“Time for bed,” he announces, not giving her a chance to protest as he scoops her up effortlessly.

She sighs inwardly, the small amount of peace she had found in the TV now gone. As he carries her to the bedroom, she can’t help but feel a wave of irritation. She has spent the entire day at his side, catering to his whims, and now even the few moments she has to herself are being taken away.

In the dimly lit bedroom, he sets her down gently on the bed and climbs in beside her, pulling her close. “Cuddle me,” he demands, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You will miss me when I’m gone on a mission tomorrow.”

Exhausted and frustrated, she lets out a small huff. “Satoru, I’ve been with you all day. Can’t I just have a little time to myself?”

His eyes flash with anger, and he grips her arm tightly. “Are you being ungrateful?” he spits. “I’m a good boyfriend. I’m strong, handsome, and I give you everything. And this is how you repay me? By asking for ‘alone time’?”

She can feel her temper rising, but the fear of his wrath keeps her silent. “I’m not ungrateful, Satoru. I just… need some space sometimes.”

He scoffs, his grip loosening slightly. “Space? You need space from me? After everything I do for you?”

Tears prick at the corners of her eyes, but she blinks them back, knowing that fighting back would only make things worse. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

He sighs, pulling her even closer. “Just close your eyes and sleep.”

Time goes by and without y/n realizing it, the sky has already darkened, signaling nighttime. She's laying on the lavish couch, rereading a novel that she's read twice before. The clock is ticking, and the longing she feels for Satoru grows stronger. As she's about to fall asleep, the clicking of the door lock jolts her awake. She immediately runs towards the door, wanting to welcome him home.

“Satoru, how was the mission? I've been waiting for you for days,” she says as she hugs him.

Satoru pries her away from him, earning a surprised and confused reaction from her. “I'm tired. Leave me alone.”

Y/n nods before making her way back to the couch and plopping onto it. She curls up into a ball and buries her face in her knees, finding comfort in her own embrace. Does Satoru not love her anymore? She doesn't think she can bear this situation any longer. Trapped in this apartment with nowhere to go, and worse, her captor himself doesn't care about her. The tears brimming in her eyes finally escape. Her body shudders as she pitifully sobs.

Suddenly, she feels a hand on her shoulder. “Princess, don't cry. I just wanted to test if you miss me.”

Y/n only cries harder. Satoru takes a seat beside her before lifting her body onto his lap, cradling her. “I didn't mean what I said just now. I would never feel tired of you.”

She clings onto him, though deep down she feels disgusted with herself for having to lean on Satoru to stay sane. He's the only human she can interact with. All her male friends are dead. As for her family and her close friends, she has to beg Satoru not to hurt them. She's sick of his twisted ways of loving her, but at one point she gives up and accepts her fate.

Satoru grins at the sight of her crying. He knows he has succeeded in making her depend on him, and him only.

[gay-dorito-dust]

So like, hear me out, bill can get drunk from like alcohol, (or something weird inter dimensional drink) but either way he can get drunk like a human. Does that also mean he can get sick? Can you make a bill x reader where reader is taking care of Bill while he's sick and it's basically just:

reader: lie the fuck down man, your sick as shit

Bill: NO, I DON'T *NEED* REST, I'M AN ALL SEEING GOD WITH INFINITE POW- *fucking passes out*

‘Bill please go back to bed.’ You groaned for what felt like the tenth time that day when you saw the floating silhouette of the triangular demon from the doorway

‘No! I’m not like you flesh bags! I don’t get sick!’ He says as he then proceeds to cough an abnormal amount, to say that Bill’s coughing fit sounded like the pits of hell opening up was an understatement, you still remembered that he sent someone insane when they accidentally saw his endoskeleton when he was eating. Even the thought of that made you uneasy and a little queasy.

‘Well what would you call that?’ You replied sarcastically as you moved to look at him, unimpressed when you saw he had draped himself with the blanket you gave him like he was fighting off the cold within him, and wearing blue striped pyjamas all the while his eye/mouth was half lidded and almost lifeless looking. In that moment Bill cipher didn’t look like the all knowing and powerful demon, but instead a sick little puppy that was too stubborn to listen to commands from someone else.

‘Realising the demons.’ Bill snarled, he moved to look at what you were doing that was so important that it made you leave the bed so early. ‘What’re you doing, aren’t you supposed to be serving me like you flesh bags should?’ He then asked as he floated to your side to stare down at the pot of soup as though it had insulted him. ‘I’m making you soup for your sick little self your ungrateful shit.’ You said as you gently pushed him aside so that you could make sure that you weren’t burning the soup by overindulging him with your attention.

‘Has it got deer teeth in it?’ Bill then asks, his voice was rough from all the coughing and he looked at though he winced with every words, and without hesitation you offered him a soothing cherry cough sweet, and for once Bill didn’t fight you on this and popped it into his eye/mouth, letting you knew it was indeed bad if the dream demon wasn’t putting much of a fight about being treated as though he was weaker.

‘Unfortunately no it does not have deer teeth in it, besides I don’t know what the boiling point of deer teeth would be, if they had one.’ You tell him as you began to ladle some of the soup into a small bowl. But before you could blink, bill snapped his fingers and soon enough there was a layer of small, half melted deer teeth on top of his soup. You looked over at him just to see him shrug beneath the blanket you gave him.

‘Deer teeth makes everything better, you flesh bags are so far behind on the times.’ Bill said condescendingly as he made some deer teeth appear in his small hands but before he could eat one of them, you were quick to snatch them away from him as he cried out in surprise. ‘Give them back!’

‘Not until you eat your soup and go back to bed.’ You told him sternly as you held the packet of deer teeth away from the whiney sick dream demon that was currently pressing himself up against the side of your face.

‘Which one do you want me to do? Bed or soup, you humans are so unnecessarily confusing.’ Bill whines again but this time he couldn’t find the strength to keep himself floating as soon he was resting in the crook of your arm, fighting back the need for sleep out of a necessity to prove that he was above such a thing as illness, but found himself snuggling up to your warmth more so then ever. ‘I am the almighty bill cipher and I will not..not let this…illness get the better of the dream demon.’ He murmurs to himself and you couldn’t help but smile at how cute he could be when he’s not making your life a living hell.

‘Sure you are, now let’s get you to bed your stubbornness.’ You said as you carried bill in one arm and his deer teeth laced soup in the other after you finished up ladling his soup and putting the pot in the sink to wash at a later date, before making your way back up to your room as Bill murmurs threats as he looks up at you with a half hearted glare.

‘I could end you weakling, I really could so I wouldn’t try me.’ He would say but with his sore voice, blanketed form, and striped pyjamas, you couldn’t help but feel as though you were being intimidated by a sick puppy.

‘I know you can.’ You replied.

‘Don’t mock me.’ Bill whines once more as he threw a weak punch to your bicep with his small hand. ‘I am not needing anyone to look after me, I can do it by myself.’ He adds as though flaunting his hyper independence.

‘I’m not mocking you, I’m helping you and secondly that didn’t even hurt, and thirdly what do you normally do when get sick?’ You asked as when you arrived to your room you placed bill down on the bed, setting the soup aside on the bedside table as you tucked bill tightly beneath the covers. The triangle demon shrugs as he feels his mind becomes foggy with the need to sleep, he hasn’t felt this weak in a long, long time and now here he was being pampered and looked after by someone he deems weaker by comparison; He hates it but there wasn’t much energy left in him to do anything other than sleep.

‘Nothing because I’m not of a weakling species like you.’ He replied and you scoffed.

‘Sounds about right, anyways go to sleep and you can have your cold ass deer teeth soup when you wake up.’ You told him as you stood up to leave the room, only to feel a little hand grab ahold of your shirt but as you looked at him to say something, bill was already asleep but his grip on your shirt was tight. So you sat yourself down on the chair by the bed, trying to make yourself feel comfortable before falling asleep yourself, knowing the this scenario will repeat until the bastard felt better again.

So until then, you could rest without having the worry that a floating Dorito chip wasn’t going to faint on you anytime soon.

[imshii-kin]

Good Luck

Chapter # 6 Foggy Fears

Platonic Yandere Dc x reincarnated Reader

Wattpad

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 (You are here)

I realized at that moment that there are some whose dread of human beings is so morbid they yearn to see monsters of ever more horrible shapes.

- Junji Ito

(Once again, this chapter was changed quite a bit.)

!!TW!! Death, Blood, Car accident, Sudden switch from first person to second person.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

'Dinner was too quiet.' Louis thought as she picked up the plates from the table, slowly bringing them to the sink.

'How could I have missed it?' She thought as she began to scrub the plate in her hand. 'She's my daughter. How could I have not seen it?'

Her grip tightened on the plate, her acrylic nails painfully dug into the plate. 'Am I such a horrible mother that I couldn't even notice my daughter ███ █████ ██?'

Snap

Louis looks down at her broken nail, a stinging pain accompanying the sudden loss of her red nail.

"Mom?"

Louis jumps, quickly turning her head and letting out a sigh of relief when she sees Jon. Placing a hand on her chest, she gives Jon a shaky smile, "Oh, Jon, be careful you almost gave your mother a heart attack."

Jon simply nods, as if not hearing his mother, "Um, Conner is... here." He muttered.

Louis's smile drops briefly before returning with a strained one, "Oh? Really? Well invite him in, it's been forever since he's come to visit."

Giving his mother a concerned look, Jon makes his way back out of the kitchen.

Louis sighs as soon as Jon leaves, running a hand through her hair.

"It's all my fault," She whispered, "It's all my fault..."

──●◎●──

The movie had ended, though Y/n barely noticed. All she could think about was how... ѳЧҭ ѳf ҁћӓГӓҁҭЭГ Clark had acted during the car ride. This wasn't the calm, happy-go-lucky superhero Y/n grew up with in the comics, he seemed so different. More stressed and less stable the Clark Kent from the comics. It all led to one thought;

If he's like this, how would he react if he found out about her reincarnation?

'I just want to go home.' Y/n ran a hand through her hair, her thoughts made her feel guilty, was she being ungrateful? Was Y/n even really Y/n? What if she just took over this Y/n's body? Was it her fault Clark's 'daughter' was gone?

What if he found out-

"Y/n? Are you ok? The credits ended a while ago." Clark's hand on Y/n's shoulder felt like fire. "Let's get going, okay?" Clark said softly, dipping his head down to look into  Y/n's eyes. "I'm sure Bruce (the prick) is anxious to have you back at the manor."

With a hesitant nod, Y/n stands up slowly. "Yeah... You're right, we should go." Clark smiles warmly, complete 180 from earlier. "Before that, I was hoping we could stop by the store on our way back." Clark rubs the back of his neck bashfully, "I might have promised your mother to get groceries while I was out, and the market is on the way to Bruces Mansion." His eyes seem to light up, "Oh! They might even have that snack you like so much! We can pick it up as well."

Y/n nods, "Yeah, I don't mind,"

Clark's smile widens, "Great! Let's get going then!"

Sighing, Y/n follows Clark to his car, 

'DC has Walmarts?' Y/n thought as she followed Clark into the supermarket.

The Walmart looked normal for the most part, there didn't seem to be too many people (probably because it was relatively late and this was still Gotham). Clark grabs a cart before heading into the supermarket, Y/n following closely behind, immediately he heads over to the dairy section browsing the milk and cream aisle.

"What's your favorite creamer?"

Looking over to Clark, Y/n raises a bow "Hmm?" she hums confused. Clark smiles, "I figured I could get some while we're here for when you go back to Bruce." 

An 'ooh' escapes Y/n's mouth before turning to get a better look at the creamers. In Y/n old life, she honestly preferred sweet things and would often put way too much creamer in her coffee, but as of late she's been enjoying less sweet things. 

"Mmm, I think I'm good for now,"  Y/n responded, not missing the way Clark frowned.

"Oh."

Clark grabs a few things before leaving, and you awkwardly follow behind him.

The rest of the shopping trip continues like this, Y/n felt like tearing her hair out, it was just so awkward and uncomfortable. Eventually, the pair ended up in the electronic section of the store.

"- game you really like!" Clark's voice bleeds into existence, breaking Y/n's train of thought. Glancing over, Y/n sees Clark holding a bootleg version of Minecraft. "Y/n? Did you hear me?" Clark frowns a bit, his eye's losing that spark again. "Y/n. I know you have a lot on your mind, but you-"

"AAHHHHHHH!!!"

You and Clark jump at the sudden scream, Clark's eyes quickly scan the store for the source of the screaming.

"OH GOD-"

"GET AWAY FROM ME!"

"THEY'RE IN MY HEAD, MAKE THEM STOP!"

More and more screams start popping up, Clark quickly pulls you close to him and you can feel your heart pounding. What was going on??

"MY SKIN IS BURNING, I'M BURNING ALIVE!"

"I'M FALLING, I CAN'T STOP FALLING!"

"SPIDERS!"

A mist seems to slowly cover the ground, screams of desperation continue to fill the air, only growing more and more unsettling.

"Shit," Clark mutters, he grips your shoulders and swiftly turns you around to face him. 

"Y/n. You need you listen to me." His voice was serious, "No matter what you see, it's not real. Do you understand? It's. Not. Real." 

Y/n's eyes widen, Fear Gas, the mist was fear gas! This was bad! Very very bad! Unlike Clark, Y/n wasn't immune which meant Y/n was about to experience the full effect of the gas.

"Y/n! Y/n just remember! It's not real- it- ot- rea-"

The world seems to blur as a burning sensation enters Y/n's lungs.

__

You sigh tiredly as you walk along the worn-down sidewalk, comic book in hand. It had been a long day, and all you wanted to do was go home and rest. Stopping at the crosswalk, you take a few glances from side to side, you never know when a truck could just barrel through you because you didn't look. 

You step onto the asphalt road.

Your heart was pounding for some strange reason, it suddenly became really hard to breathe. A loud honk rings in the air. Looking to your left, you see a dark blue truck heading towards you, its headlights illuminating a path where you were dead center.

The vehicle's driving was so erratic, you didn't know which way to run. Ultimately, whichever direction you chose didn't matter. The result would undoubtedly have been the same.

The impact was fast, you didn't feel anything at first.

It didn't last very long, though.

You lay on the asphalt road, gasping for air, trying to gain back all the air knocked out of you. That didn't do so well for your broken ribs, of course. The taste of blood indicates that some of your teeth might be missing, based on your guess.

You can't see much of your surroundings either. Aside from that dark blue truck's headlights blinding you, your vision was growing dark.

For a brief moment, you could see the man step out of his truck and go over to you. Then, everything in the world went dark.

__

"-waking up! She's waking up!" a boyish voice rings in Y/n's ear. A pounding headache seems to accompany her as she slowly sits up in her bed.

A few seconds after Clark enters her room. He looked around until he spotted the suitcase next to her closet, he went over and started to put her belongings in it.

"We are leaving." Clark states firmly, "And tomorrow you and I will be having a talk about what you saw." He seemed upset, extremely upset.

Clark... where are we going?" Y/n asked, though she already knew his answer.

"It's dad, not Clark, Y/n." That was all Clark said as he dragged you downstairs towards the manor's doors. 

Bruce was standing by the door with a perplexed look on his face. He seemed stressed and a bit frustrated. Looking over, Bruce glared at Clark, quickly walking in front of him as if to intercept him, but Clark just pushed him aside.

"Clark put her down, we need to talk about this! Her condition could get worse!" Clark ignored him and walked out the door to his car, Bruce hot on his tail.

"I don't need a man who puts his children through hell and back to lecture me or tell me how to parent my kid Bruce." Clark and put you in the car with the suitcase. Then he got in himself and started the car.

"How about you start focusing on how not to kill your own kids before you start worrying about mine"

──●◎●──

Jon gasps. This... this couldn't be right. It was... no it was impossible! But... it was, it was here and it was possible. This changes everything...

──●◎●──

𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚁𝚎𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚜 𝙴𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝙸𝚗𝚌. 𝚆𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍.

𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆𝚂!!!

█████ 𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆𝚂!

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

TagList - @blublock404 @no-sleep-for-insomniacs @rosecentury

[cordeliawhohung]

Honestly Simom is the kind of psycho I could totally see just fucking breaking Bonnie’s legs to keep her from running. Never lets them heal right, either, gotta make sure she can’t ever try anything again. Either that or sever her Achilles tendons.

you know what, you're so right. anyway-

non-canon addition to Touch Me 'Till I Vomit (pet!au) | ghoap x reader

i'm sorry, johnny

cw: non-con, threats of violence, slight body horror, slapping, spreading bar, light bondage, dead dove

The cuts you received from the bramble and thicket still sting. 

Splinters and thorns embed themselves deep into your skin where they sing their songs of torment. It’s enough to make your eyes water. Inflamed and irritated epidermis squeals as the thick fabric of your jeans further poke and prod the already broken and delicate skin. Still, none of it is worse than the look in Simon’s eyes as he towers over you, brow slick with perspiration, chest heaving and bobbing beneath his shirt. 

An achy sere ravages the back of your throat, causing the skin to stick to itself as you swallow with little relief. There is something worse than contempt in Simon’s eyes. Worse than frustration or anger. He is virulent. You can see it in the twitch of his fingers and the way he bares his teeth. Desperate hands paw against the living room floor as you back away, limbs scurrying with the same pathetic effort of a rodent as your back collides with the couch. 

“Think you can run?” he goads, heavy feet stomping closer to you. His knees collide with the floor just before you, and he yanks you closer by your ankles. Squealing, your legs thrash, but his grip is ultimately stronger. “After everythin’ I’ve done for ya? Ungrateful fuckin’ slag.”

He begins to work on your shoes. Thick fingers rip at the laces until he’s tossing them aside where they clatter on the ground with cacophonous bangs. No amount of begging or pleading is going to save you from this infraction. Of running from the hands that feed you and the teeth that bite you. The confusion that precedes the pain is the worst. The unknown. Baffled as to why his punishment would involve removing not only your shoes, but your pants too.

Fearing the worst, you squeal as your jeans rip and tear with his fury, tattered remains tossed aside as he tries to get you to straighten one of your legs. You don’t make it easy. You’ve turned into an animal, just like he’s always called you. Some mutt that’s perfect for his sweet Johnny. You growl and claw and screech — a cornered dog, a cat caught in water, a bird with clipped wings. 

Your cries cease with a well timed slap. Simon uses the back of his hand, knuckles colliding with your cheek, bone on bone causing pain to blossom with a throb. The back of your head bumps against the floor, and your vision sparkles. Petite black dots dance across your view like ballerinas. Spinning and pirouetting without a care in the world. 

“Quit your bitchin. Runnin’ away like that? Think that’s ever gonna happen again? Not on your fuckin’ life, Bonnie,” Simon promises. “Now stop it. It’ll be easier for you if you quit strugglin’ like this.” 

It isn’t until his knee begins to rest on your shin that you realize exactly what he means. Slow pressure builds as he attempts to find the fulcrum of your tibia. The soft point in which he can snap it in two. To truly break you worse than he’s ever had before. 

“Ye found ‘er!” 

Johnny’s tone is all too triumphant for the mess you’re being made into, but it makes Simon hesitate. Blazing eyes look away and lock onto Johnny who stands in the doorway. You tremble, sweat slicking along your spine and the back of your neck, nervous system going haywire as it attempts to prepare itself for the agony you’re about to endure. 

“Go back to the room,” Simon orders. 

He cocks his head, brows furrowing. “What are ye doin’ to ‘er?” 

Simon puts more pressure on your leg, and you swear you can feel the marrow begin to boil. “Makin’ sure she doesn’t run from us again.” 

It’s impossible to hold back the terror or the brine that comes with it. Tears cascade down your cheeks as you paw at your aching face, just wanting it all to be over already. To feel the ache and the pain and then be done with it, but it doesn’t come. Instead, Johnny treads carefully as he approaches, kneeling next to you, warm hands rubbing at your free leg like he’s petting a skittish cat. 

“But she has such pretty legs. Please, we kin do something else, cannae we?” Johnny begs. 

Simon hesitates. It’s something he only ever does when Johnny’s around. Pause. Think for a moment about something other than the malicious terror he wants to inflict upon you. When he takes his weight off of your leg, you’re finally able to breathe again — albeit, a bit too easily. Your diaphragm seizes as it hyperventilates, hot tears accompanying them as he begins to rip the remaining scraps of clothes off your body. Tearing you apart until you’re bare, he rolls you onto your stomach, hand pressed flat against your back as he leans in to whisper. 

“Don’t fuckin’ move a muscle. If I come back an’ find you in a different position, Johnny be damned, I’ll shatter those goddamn legs, ya hear?” he says. Each syllable is horrisonant, and still you nod. 

His absence is all too short. You would have rather stayed there bare on the floor for an eternity than bear what you face now. Hands tied behind your back with thick, scratchy rope; the position pushes your breasts out, displaying them perfectly as you sit leaning against the couch. Rope isn’t the only way he chooses to hinder you — to keep you bound to this place. A metal spreading bar grips your ankles, forcing your legs apart. You’re unable to move them, except to bend your knees. 

The sight is all too much for Johnny, who sits on the floor before you, salivating. Tongue wetting his lips, blue eyes rake over your body like a greedy child at a candy shop. His hand wanders as he adjusts his aching cock in his pants, unabashed. Proud, almost. As he crawls toward you, you want to look away. To close your eyes and will this all away, but you can’t. 

Simon’s legs rest on either side of you as he sits on the couch, almost as if worried you’ll still be able to escape after his handiwork. Truculent fingers grip your overgrown hair — you’ve been here so long, you’ve changed so much — and he keeps your gaze straight as Johnny begins to fish his cock from his trousers. 

“Gonna be good now? Gonna apologize for causin’ a mess? Huh, Bonnie? Go on. Tell ‘im your sorry,” Simon demands. “Say it. Tell Johnny you’re sorry.” 

Lips pressing together, you try not to look at Johnny, or the way he eagerly fists himself at the sight of you. But no matter where you look, there is a reminder of pain somewhere. Old stains that soak the floor. The ichor that beads along the scratches of your legs. You have been torn to shreds in this very spot, and it will continue to happen as long as you draw breath. 

“Say it,” Simon snaps. 

Trembling, your knees shift in an attempt to conceal as much from them as possible — as if you even have a shred of dignity left to protect. “I’m sorry, Johnny.” 

He takes everything he’s ever wanted from you, and still, you repeat it — like a cornered dog; a cat caught in water; a bird with clipped wings.

I’m sorry, Johnny. 

I’m sorry, Johnny.

I’m sorry. 

[krirebr]

I Don't Want a Lot for Christmas

Pairing: dark!Andy Barber x f!reader

Word Count: ~1k

Summary: Andy gives you an early Christmas present. Why aren't you happier about it?

Warnings: Dark elements, threats of punishment, implied punishment, it's dark fic but mostly by implication. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

A/N: This is for @the-slumberparty Naughty or Nice Challenge. The prompts I used, from the Naughty list, were 23. “I want everyone to know who you belong to.” 12. “Smile pretty for me.” and 19. “No one else is gonna take care of you like I do.” Thank you for the fun challenge, Navy and Roo!

This was my first time writing for Andy, aside from his brief appearance in Don't Touch Me, I'm a Real Live Wire, the winner of this poll. Big thanks to @paperweight91 for helping me figure out my take on him. This is basically just a long drabble, but I hope you all enjoy it!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screeching at me. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You sat stiffly on the loveseat as Andy rummaged around under the tree. You pulled at the hem of your black, sparkly cocktail dress. It was much shorter than you were comfortable with, but you were used to that now—your comfort not mattering. 

He made a noise of triumph and stood up tall, coming back to sit next to you on the couch. He handed you a beautifully wrapped package. “I know it’s a bit early, but I wanted you to open this one before we go to the party. Merry Christmas!”

You’d been dreading his office’s holiday party all week. All those people judging you, all those opportunities to mess up. You took the package and quietly said, “Thank you.” 

He chuckled, lightly. “You haven’t even opened it yet. Go on.”

As you carefully unwrapped the gift, your fingers trembled, uncovering a medium-sized square jewelry box. You took a deep breath, girding yourself before you opened it. Inside was a delicate silver chain with a pendant that spelled AB in elegant script. It took a moment for your brain to catch up, looking up at him as your confusion gave way to dawning horror. 

“I want everyone to know who you belong to,” he said, so softly, so sweetly. It was almost like he hadn’t just given you his brand. “Now is when you say thank you, sweetheart.” His tone was still gentle, but his eyes had started to take on that hard glint you were so terrified of.

“Thank you, Andy,” you whispered. 

He smiled, his eyes softening again. “You’re so welcome, honey. Now, turn around so I can put it on you,” he said as he took the box from you. You did as you were told and turned to face the other way. He draped the necklace across your chest and fastened it behind you. His hands ghosted over the back of your neck and you suppressed a shiver. “There. Turn back around now.” You did and he gave you an appraising look. “Smile pretty for me, baby.”

You gave what you were sure was a strained, brittle smile, but he still hummed in satisfaction. 

“Absolutely gorgeous.” His hand moved up to brush your cheek and you couldn’t help but flinch away from him. You regretted it immediately, but no matter what you told yourself, how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop your body from being afraid of his touch. 

He sighed, exasperated, and turned away from you. “I don’t understand why you insist on treating me like the bad guy,” he said, dejected.

Because you are the bad guy, you thought to yourself, but you were smart enough this time to not say it. You’d finally learned that lesson. “I’m sorry,” you said, reaching for his hand, but he pulled away.

“If you were sorry, you’d stop being so ungrateful! No one else is gonna take care of you like I do.”

 You nodded quickly. You needed to placate him and do it now. “I know! You take such good care of me. I know that.”

He stood up and turned on you with his hands on his hips. “Do you know that? Because you don’t show it. It’s not how you act. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

The way he loomed over you made you want to cower, but you did your best to control your body. That would only make things worse. You had no idea how to respond. Another apology would only make him more angry.

He looked at you expectantly, but at your silence, he just sighed again, running a hand over his beard. “Maybe we need to continue this conversation downstairs.”

You sprang up at that and threw yourself at his feet. Not that. Anything but that. “Please, no, I’m sorry, I’ll be better. Please, no. We don’t need to go downstairs.”

He bent over to grab your arms and lift you off your knees. “That’s good,” he said softly, back to being gentle with you. “I don’t want to go down there, either. You know I don’t. I just want you to be good for me. Don’t you want this Christmas to be better than Thanksgiving?” It took everything in you not to grimace. You still felt the marks from what he’d done to you after Thanksgiving dinner. At the memory, you couldn’t help but go weak in his arms, letting him hold you, taking any comfort you could get. “I just want to have a perfect Christmas with you, sweetheart, show you how much I love you. I need you to stop resisting it.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, the words falling out of you, too scared to think of anything else. You blinked back your tears, not wanting to ruin your mascara or get his dress shirt wet. He wouldn’t take kindly to being late to the party after all this.

He rubbed a gentle hand down your back. “Shhh,” he cooed. “You’re ok, you’re fine.” After another moment, he pulled away from you, looking you up and down. “Now,” he said, “take a deep breath and get yourself together. We’re going to go to the party and have a nice time, aren’t we?” You nodded, hurriedly. “Then when we get home, you can show me exactly how sorry you are, how grateful you are. Good?”

“Yes, Andy,” you said, quietly. You couldn’t make your voice get any louder. 

He stepped back into your space and wrapped a hand around the back of your neck. He kissed you slowly, languidly. You let him. You had to. You matched his movements with your lips as much as you could, but he never cared too much how passionate the kiss was on your end as long as you didn’t resist him. As long as he was in control. He pulled back and stroked his thumb down your cheek. This time you didn’t flinch away. “That’s right. There’s my good girl. Come on, go touch up your lipstick. We don’t want to be late.”  

Tag lists are open

@stargazingfangirl18 @drabblewithfrannybarnes @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling

[thegoldencontracts]

It's Just Business

Summary: Azul keeps giving you free meals from the Lounge. Why? N-Not because he likes you, alright? Don't ask such foolish questions!

Notes: I said I was gonna do Tsundere!twst, I meant it. Leona's next huehue

Azul Ashengrotto was notorious across Night Raven for many, many reasons. His shady dealings, his intellect, his overwhelming power. Who didn't know about the feared benevolent tyrant of Octavinelle?

But one thing he was notorious for, the thing that left you insanely confused, was the fact that he was a cheapskate. Azul had a strict "no-free-lunch" policy. He didn't give anything for free, and he didn't take anything for free.

So why was he giving you so much free stuff? It seemed like every other day, he was inviting you to the Lounge for a meal.

"Hey, Azul," you said one day, while he was pulling you over to Mostro Lounge. "Not to seem ungrateful, but- uh, can I ask why you're doing this?"

"To see you question my benevolence, why, it wounds me!" Azul said with a melodramatic sigh. "I'm doing this out of the kindness of my heart, I assure you. Getting an unpaid taste-tester has nothing to do with it."

An unpaid taste-tester? Couldn't he just have Jade or Floyd do that? Besides, he never asked you for specifics about what you liked.

This was beginning to seem real shady.

"You sure?" You said. "You don't really treat me like a taste-tester. Not gonna lie, I feel like you've got some ulterior motive here."

And in all honesty, it was meant to be a good-natured jab at Azul's affinity for shady dealings, but considering the way he scowled, face going red, he didn't seem to take it that way.

"Nothing of the sort," he said, looking positively indignated. "This is a mere business transaction. You provide me the service or taste-testing, I provide you free food. Nothing more, nothing less."

Before you could say anything, he continued.

"And there is no form of sentiment or affection for you motivating my actions. Do you honestly believe me to be capable of such an illogical thing?"

"I- uh, never said you were, Azul."

Your voice was quiet, strained from you barely managing to hold in your laughter.

"Good," he said. "Because I don't like you. Not in the slightest."

That sounded like something someone who liked you would say. Especially because you never asked him if he liked you.

His face was still a slight bit flushed, cheek blown up in a pout. You knew what you had to do.

In one fell swoop, before Azul could say anything, you poked his cheek, deflating it in an instant. If Azul's face wasn't red before, it sure was now.

"W-What was that for?" He asked, pushing up his glasses in an attempt to look natural covering up his blush. It was a failed attempt.

"I had to do it."

"I- you-" Azul sighed, grabbing your hand with a strength you didn't know he had, only to immediately let it go and gape at it like he'd been burned. "Do as you please. You'll still be fulfilling your obligation as my- er, taste-tester. Understood?"

"Yeah, yeah," you said, following him.

And as you went along with him to Mostro Lounge, him being unable to look you in the eye, you couldn't help but smile.

For all his business dealings and scary reputation, Azul was actually pretty cute.

[coralinnii]

I love the villain scorned by the world feat: Malleus genre: drama, hurt/comfort, romance note: part 3 continuation of Being Reincarnated into a New World as the Bad Guy AU Malleus ver, not gender specific reader, no pronouns used, villain/ess!reader is human, insecure villain/ess!reader, use of non-canon characters, 1.6k word count

I'm scared that people aren't gonna like how the villain/ess!reader is portrayed but I wanted to write people who are hurt and are afraid, cuz that's what being alive is like, to sometimes be afraid. So, hope you enjoy!

There are requests with more specific topics or aspects of the story so they may get their own story post. I'm not ignoring you, I'm more story pacing ^^"

In one night alone, you’ve met your ex-fiancé and your former friends while you were with the fae that has asked to marry you. Then, said fae went on to antagonize your ex-fiancé who was a prince and low-key threatened to ruin him, his lover and those who supported the couple. 

You were not built for this stress

In his defense, Malleus only did it because your former fiance started to mock you and your family over a crime that was proven false. You certainly weren’t ungrateful enough not to thank Malleus for his assistance. The powerful king simply smiled.

“This is but a mere glimpse of the things I would do for you, should you finally accept my proposal” 

“T-this is not a decision you can rush” 

You were hesitant and gave excuses to refuse the dragon king but he made efforts to rebuke your reasons one by one, destroying whatever obstacles that kept you from saying yes. Soon, it came down to one reason, your real reason. 

You were scared

Not of Malleus, he has never done anything to warrant fear from you. But rather, his status as a “route target”. 

Before the arrival of the heroine, you were friends with the other route targets and even felt happy enough to be engaged with the prince despite having only platonic feelings between each other. But the moment they all met her, your world became hers. 

Your former fiancé grew irritated with you, then full out ignoring you. It was no better with the others as well when you expressed your worries to your mutual friends. Rather than consoling you or hearing you out, they took the heroine’s side and started ignoring you as well, calling you delusional and unreasonable. 

Everyone changed (or perhaps you changed and this was how it was meant to be) and you were left ridiculed and soon villainized by those you felt close to. The look of disgust on their faces whenever you attempted to just speak to them, it hurt you.

Would Malleus be the same? Be kind to you then break your heart when the heroine comes in? You suffered because of it the first time but if it was Malleus…your last and maybe closest person in your life since reincarnating to this world… you don’t know how you could come back from that. 

So you started to give up on your happy ending, refusing to answer Malleus’ proposal, avoiding to engage with the heroine at all, even escaping the party and retreating to your old hiding spot… in the royal garden. 

Alone with your thoughts, you berated yourself over your cowardice as you hid in the tall rose bushes. Gently, you fidgeted with the rose petals and you reminisced about the past. You met Malleus here, didn’t you? 

You were so clueless over your future. Back then, you still held hope that your fate was not predestined, that you could be content with stepping aside for the heroine and live happily with them. Yet despite your conflicted feelings, you managed a smile as you recalled one fateful night in the garden. It was the night that you met with your closest friend… 

“Lord Malleus!” 

…Did you say that out loud? 

You looked around in confusion to see if you were truly alone as you thought and to your surprise, you saw beyond the tall hedges the very fae you were just thinking about and the person who called him…

The female protagonist. 

“Do you like flowers, Lord Malleus?”

Your heart clenched painfully as you saw your worst nightmare come to be, the female lead with your friend(?) and they were alone in the gardens, where you realized where the player was supposed to meet Malleus in order to enter his route. Was the baron’s daughter aware of this? Did they meet like it was meant to be? Should you stay…or run away? 

You could. Your engagement has been annulled and your family was cleared from accusations of treason. You haven't accepted Malleus' proposal so nothing is holding you or your family back from leaving this kingdom forever and starting a new life away from here. No need to follow this cursed story to the end. No need to ever see your ex-friends or the protagonist ever again. 

No need to see Malleus again. 

Just run away.  

Malleus internally thanked the elders and Lilia for their lessons to conceal his emotions, or he could have done something as drastic as burning this garden to ashes due to the annoyance he felt at this moment. He noticed your escape from the party and assumed you wanted some fresh air so he left you on your own. But soon, the party attendees bore him and he soon ached to be by your side once more. So, he made his way to the one place he immediately thought of when thinking of you, the royal gardens. 

It was his curiosity borne from boredom that brought him to the gardens that day. He found himself attracted with your kindness and obliviousness to his true identity. He found you charming, a delight and later an optimist when learning of your situation. He knew right away who you were, the child from a noble family betrothed to the young prince of this kingdom since young but that piece of information did not bother him…at first. 

But you were turned from charming to tempting as time went on. He craved your attention, envisioning your smiling face with each letter he received from you via his attendant Lilia. He couldn’t count how many times he wanted to visit you personally but couldn’t. He was sure that if you knew his identity, you may cease your correspondence with him in fear of a scandal between the kingdoms. He at least could appreciate your tactfulness. 

But he was greedy as any dragon fae would be once he heard your engagement was annulled. He may curse the foolish prince for his actions but Malleus suppose he should count himself lucky that your ex-fiancé was a fool. If he were a decent man then he may have to declare war by stealing you away. 

But Malleus encountered another greedy individual, and she’s standing right in front of him. 

“Do you like flowers, Lord Malleus?” The baron’s daughter asked, fluttering her eyelashes cutely. 

“This garden and its flora has its charm” Malleus curtly replied, he can’t hate this garden afterall. He met you here. 

“So do I! I guess fae and humans aren’t so different, huh” 

Well, that’s a stretch of a comment. He couldn’t comprehend this human’s agenda. Constantly surrounded by young men, Malleus assumed she had better ways to spend her time, and not waste his. 

Wait…was she reaching her hand to him? 

“My wish is for humans and fae to get along. Wouldn’t that be great?” The female lead sweetly said with her best smile, stretching her fingers to reach for Malleus’ crossed arms. 

To dare attempt to lay hands on him without his permission. No one would fault him for burning this woman’s audacious hands off, right? 

“King Malleus!” 

The dragon fae’s pointed ears perked up at the sound of his name. He turned immediately to the source, knowing exactly who just called him. 

“My dear human” he responded back with a smile as he saw you walking quickly towards him. 

In spite of your nervousness, you walked up to the duo and looked to share a gaze with the tall dragon fae before cautiously moving to hover your hand on his arm. Malleus did you one better and guided your hand to firmly rest on his arm, with his large hand kept over yours. 

“Good evening, lady” you nodded your head at the heroine who seemed displeased with your presence but curtsied back, as is custom. You barely gave the woman’s much of your attention (your confidence may waver if you did) and turned directly to face Malleus.

“King Malleus, I had planned to retire early tonight and leave this party” you looked to Malleus, taking a deep breath before speaking once more. To let yourself be selfish and fight for the only man that mattered to you now. “Would you like to leave…with me?”   

“Aren’t you being rude?” The female lead argued, barely hiding her annoyance with you. “Not only did you interrupt a conversation, you’re shamelessly asking Lord Malleus to leave-“ 

“Where would you like to go, my dear human?” Malleus’ deep voice interrupted the baron’s daughter, not that Malleus cared as his striking green eyes focused solely on you. 

“If you’re willing…perhaps your manor’s garden?” You shocked yourself with your boldness, but you kept at it. “I much prefer your garden above all others, especially during our dates” 

Whoosh

Your senses couldn’t keep up with the sudden shift as you were suddenly lifted by Malleus who quickly scooped you up into a bridal carry. You and the female lead both had looks of shock by the fae king’s sudden actions but Malleus paid attention to only one of you.

“I had made the false assumption that all humans were charming” Malleus’ eyes glinted a bright green, you compared them to gems, as he smirked amusingly at you, his fangs peeking from his lips. “But only you could evoke such feelings of greed within me"

Ignoring this world's protagonist, Malleus began to shroud the two of you in specks of green lights, a sign that you were going to be magically whisked away at Malleus' whim.

But before you did, you managed to meet the female lead's eyes which were filled with nothing but indignant rage. She looked ready to destroy you and everything you love, but you steeled yourself. Instead of flinching under her glare, you smiled at her while wrapping your arms around the dragon king's neck. Without a word, you made your decision.

I'm not giving him up

[adventuringblind]

Stash

Oscar Piastri x Autistic Reader

Genre: hurt/comfort

Summary: Oscar confronts his lovers' weird habits for food storing.

Warnings: talks of eating disorders and past abuse

Notes: based on personal experience. My therapist says she's glad that I have an outlet. Apparently, writing myself into scenarios like this is healing. Who would've ever thunk it??

Masterlist

Oscar was prepared for a great many things when his girlfriend moved in with him. Things they had already talked about extensively. Like how she has her own routine that she follows, even if it doesn't feel like it. Or how she has sleeps on top of the duvet instead of under it.

Things that seem very minor to him. Apparently, other people have said it's weird, and she felt the need to warn him about her habits before moving in. She likes to communicate like that. Another thing he loves about her.

What he was not expecting was to find food stashed away in the most random places.

He didn't confront her about it at first. Maybe this is just a way she feels safe or a reminder to herself to eat something when she sees it. But then he started getting concerned when he wasn't seeing her eat at home.

She followed him around to races and could eat at restaurants, given she was with safe people who didn't tease her for being so plain. She ate snacks when she felt the need.

While she was out one day, he asked Lando over. The Brit was mildly confused as to why he was helping search the depths of the flat for food.

"You litterally have stocked cupboards."

"It's not for me! My girlfriend is stashing food around the house, and I'm trying to see if there is a pattern and maybe figure out why."

"Have you considered asking?"

"Not after she joked about her relationship with food."

Lando, who knows very well how hard eating can be sometimes, comes to the realization that there may be more to this then just sensory issues. Insecurity and scrutiny are hard things to deal with. He wouldn't be shocked if that's the reason she has foods she loves in places Oscar wouldn't find them.

Eventually they do find a pattern. It's not about where they are hidden, it's about what is hidden. It feels as if a child thought they were going to get in trouble for not asking to eat first. It's saddening to Oscar that his lover doesn't feel she can just eat normally around him.

"Do you know if she grew up doing this?"

"No clue."

~~~~~

When she got home that night, she found Oscar setting the table for dinner. Which is already odd considering they don't eat at the table. She hates eating at the table. It feels like she's being judged while she eats and makes her unable to think clearly.

But she would suffer through it. Why? because Oscar has made her comfort food, and it would be a crime not to eat with him after he did such a thing.

"What's all this for?" She asks while setting her things down.

"Well, I know you hate the dinner table, but we need to talk about something, and I thought comfort food and dim lighting might help the anxiety."

She takes her seat and thanks him for the gesture. The pit in her stomach aching with the thought of what he may want to talk about.

"So, your food stashing habits...."

Oh. Oh no. She'd been found out. She is going to get lectured just like she did at home. The one thing she was trying to desperately to avoid.

She drops her head in shame. "I'm so sorry."

"You didn't do anything wrong, alright?" I just need to know why and if I can help. You're not eating full meals when we're home and the food your hiding makes me think your self-conscious. I just want you to feel safe here, with me."

She sighs. The female knew she would have to confront this eventually. It's not that she doesn't feel safe eating here, it's that these are learned habits that she has yet to unlearn.

"My parents would often get upset when I didn't eat what they made. It's not that I was being ungrateful, I just couldn't keep it in my mouth without gagging. Textures and things."

Oscar hums as he listens. He knows textures are hard for her. Food, clothing, even certain blankets are hard for her to feel.

"My parents were also always talking about my eating habits. So, to avoid being scrutinized, I would hide food in my room to eat when nobody was around."

Oscar is a soft person. Easygoing, quiet, and according to Lando, boring. In this moment he is none of those things. He feels for his lover that she doesn't feel safe eating at home because of her parents.

Thus enters a time of Oscar warming her up to eating in the house. Not just small things, real meals and snacks and simply whenever she's hungry.

It's definitely a slow process. Oscar still finds food in strange places occasionally, but he leaves it and reminds her that it's okay to put her food in the cabinet.

He never makes a mention of what she's eating. Even if he's just curious. He never talks about it.

Eventually, she starts putting her food in the cupboard. conversations about food become a little easier and doesn't send her into a flurry of insecurity.

Every little step counts, and Oscar is proud of her for every single one she takes.

[belladonazeppole]

The Other Side

(This takes inspiration by @adyophene "The Greatest Showcat" art, part 2 is coming soon!! The Other Side and Rewrite the Stars are such royalflush songs.)

Let's begin, shall we?

'Right here, right now I put the offer out.' Maybe it was the booze, 'I don't wanna chase you down I know you see it, you run with me and I can cut you free.' But even if it was, what he was saying is true, Lucifer wanted to see Husk free and would help him.

'Out of the drudgery and walls you keep in so trade that typical for something colorful.' Even he could see that Husk grump and uncaring behaviour was a mask, well some of it, but that the demon cat was more than that.

And Lucifer wanted to help him to show it.

So he would take the leap.

'And if it's crazy, live a little crazy you can play it sensible, a king of conventional or you can risk it all and see.' Yes it was insane and a silly idea but for the stars he desire that everybody could see Husk as he does.

In a bold move Lucifer holds Husk hands, 'Don't you wanna get away from the same old part you gotta play cause I got what you need, so come with me and take the ride.' He knew that Husk was more than just a drunk and Alastor companion maybe if people see him as he did Husk.

A true showman.

He let go of his hands in summons his cane. He would do this right, 'It'll take you to the other side! Cause you can do like you do or you can do like me stay in the cage, or you'll finally take the key.'

He make him free again.

He opens his wings and jumps, 'Oh, damn, suddenly you're free to fly! It'll take you to the other side." He offers his hand, waiting for Husk.

Lucifer smiles when Husk took it.

And then gets confused when he pulled him down.

'Okay, my friend, you want to cut me in well, I hate to tell you, but it just won't happen.' Husk say as kindly as he could. He can see what the king was trying to do and he apreciates he truly does but he can't let this go beyond an idea. He just can't, 'So thanks, but no I think I'm good to go cause I quite enjoy the life you say I'm trapped in.'

He doesn't.

He hates his life.

The chains.

The fakes smiles.

All that fucking bullshit.

But Husk doesn't want to involve Lucifer in his mess.

'Now I admire you, and that whole show you do you're onto something, really it's something but I live among the wanes, and we don't pick up apples.' He sounded like an asshole and ungrateful for refusing such offer but if that could destroy that fantasy so beat.

Even if it make hating himself even more.

'I'll have to leave that up to you.' He has to break it. 'Don't you know that I'm okay with this downtown part I get to play, cause I got what I need and I don't want to take the ride." He would keep playing as Alastor pet since he belong to the radio demon.

But god, he can't see Lucifer, 'I don't need to see the other side so go and do like you do I'm good to do like me ain't in a cage, so I don't need to take the key.' He wasn't in a cage but chains were the key didn't exist.

Since he would never let him go.

'Oh, damn, can't you see I'm doing fine. I don't need to see the other side' Since the only side that existed for Husk was under him.

He needs to leave, he was ready to run away from the king.

But the king wouldn't let him go so easy.

Lucifer crossed his arms and looked at Husk, 'Now is this really how you like to spend your days? Whiskey and misery, and loneliness and gambles.' He knew that Husk was trying to get him to forget about the idea but the king won't let him.

He wouldn't give up without a fight.

Neither does Husk.

'If I were mixed up with you, I'd be the talk of the city. Disgraced and disowned, another one of the clowns.' The sinner bitterly said at the king, he felt tired of refusing the possibility of happiness.

Even if he had to do low blows and hurt Lucifer in process.

It hurt that Husk said that. Lucifer knew how his inaction hurt the family reputation, 'But you would finally live a little, finally laugh a little just let me give you the freedom to dream and it'll wake you up and cure your aching.' But he won't give up and let him pushing him away.

He watch it how Husk was started to leave, he needs to said something soon, 'Take your walls and start 'em breaking now that's a deal that seems worth taking but I guess I'll leave that up to you.' He make his offer hoping that Husk accept it.

Lucifer would make this gamble and make it highroller.

'Well, it's intriguing, but to go would cost me greatly.' Fine he would entertain him, 'So what percentage of the show would I be taking?'

At smirk forms in the king face, 'Well, fair enough, you'd want a piece of all the action I'd give you seven, we could shake and make it happen.' He was joking of course, Lucifer would give him everything to his friend but a little banter never hurt anyone.

'I wasn't born this morning, eighteen would be just fine.' The sinner said with a smile, he was an gambler after all, and you can only win if the stakes gets higher.

'Why not just go ahead and ask for nickels on the dime?'

'Thirthy.' Husk wanted more, he started to walk closer to the king.

'I'd do twenty.' Please ask me for more the king mentally beg.

'Forty.' He was getting closer to what he desire.

'Maybe thirty.' I'll give you everything.

'Fifty.' His ultimate fantasy. An equal partnership. Husk waited for Lucifer finally laugh at his face.

But it never came.

He just smirks and Husk just knew that he accept his "offer."

In that moment something click in their minds and the both fly in joy, 'Don't you wanna get away to a whole new part you're gonna play.' In that moment Husk just let his body and mind going allow with the fallen angel, 'Cause I got what you need, so come with me and take the ride to the other side.'

'So if you do like I do.' Lucifer said while making some ducks made of light appear, 'So if you do like me.' Husk in retaliation pulls his hat and a little Lucifer puppet comes out.

The king smiles at the trick which make Husk smile in return and If the king wanted to see his magic he would show him one hella of a show.

Just for him.

And maybe himself.

They were flying like idiots, making magic tricks and laughing of said tricks, 'Forget the cage, cause we know how to make the key.' But it didn't matter since in that single moment Husk was free again.

He wasn't chained to him.

Him won't run this fantasy.

This moment was his.

'Oh, damn, suddenly we're free to fly we're going to the other side.' For a moment they were free of everything, from expectetion and the chains it was just the two of them.

They felt peace.

'So if you do like I do'

In synch with eachother.

'So if you do like me.'

Their spark once again was ignate.

'Cause if we do we're going to the other side.'

They were unstopable in that moment.

They were the winners.

'We're going to the other side.'