#like I've obviously had worse things happen

[majoris]

hi hello im just gonna complain in the tags so don't worry about that hope you're having a nice time a good day cozy soft day to you my friend ✨

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[devilsskettle]

i hate that this website has location based ads now like it's one thing to promote the local grocery store chain to me but i am seeing ads for my workplace now :/

[ampersand-ghoul]

As someone who's survived PTSD and has DID, I really see a lot of very similar traits in Sunny that I see in myself and I actually hc Omori himself as protector/gatekeeper alter and Something as a persecutor.

[snapbackslide]

you know, it kind of bothers me that this is what it took for everyone to start talking about how well his line has been doing.

i've been talking about the 51-71-40 line all year, and i'm glad people are finally starting to realize just how good they are, but gosh. this sucks.

and i understand why people are bringing up johnny, obviously we all flashed back to that, but according to the details they released it definitely was not as serious, so i wish it would stop being compared. if only for my own sanity...

the fact emil walked away from the incident, and apparently didn't feel the effects until today, makes me think it really isn't worth worrying about. which is so, so relieving, for me.

[backtodecembertv]

i guess i'm dramatic and annoying and i mean nothing to him until he hasn't gotten laid in 2 months and thennnn all of a sudden "it's good to see you" and "why don't i just buy you a beer so you don't have to get money out of the atm?" and he's checking up on me all night. it's all so fucking transparent WHY is it at all difficult for me to just tell him to fuck off.

[rexhya]

note — i accidentally posted the hcs before i was done! >~<, more anul content :>

✦ ✦

yandere!prince who drives himself mad over every interaction you have with another male, it's an unspoken rule that no one is allowed to look you in the eyes because the clingy bastard has a careful and constant eye watching over you

anul hardly ever lets you out of his sight, he goes, you go, you go, he goes. it's law.

so on the rare cases where he does have to leave your side, safe to say he's more than just a little grumpy. ( he slit the throat of his personal advisor because he was talking to loud )

your just doing you job, the job you were meant to do, cleaning and preparing for a party held for nobles in his upcoming inauguration. anul is obviously dreading this party, his father is being picky about evey little thing and said he'd banish you if he tries to bring you along. (he doesn't actually care he just is waiting patiently for the day he becomes king and his fathers word will mean nothing)

whats worse is theres this insect on his arm, buzzing nosily to him about nothing, the only good thing that actually came from it's mouth was when she asked about you.

"Oh you mean [Name], she's perfect isn't she?" He doesn't wait for a response, Anetha is dying listening to him go on and on and on about you, and she hardly gets it anyway! Your a maid, born from slum and you're hardly that pretty anyway, what did the Prince of Salttion see in you.

She makes a horrible mistake and tries to find out herself.

"Hello m'lady how may I he—" you don't get to finish your sentence before Anethea's gaurds are stomping you into the ground. It's not like you havent been in a situation like this before, but it's the fear of not knowing if you'd be able to escape let alone survive that makes you sob tears into your blood.

You're shoved into a closet before your found, Anul had tore every room apart looking for you ( literally, the door came flying off it's hinges as you fell to the ground unconscious. ) and sees pure, blood raging red when he cradleds your head in his lap. not even his father tries to reprimand him for his attentiveness to you, who ever had done this would pay in blood.

He can't control his breathing as they cart you away, he's right there with you of course, Anetha watching pleasantly, he catches the look and saves it for later.

When you finally wake up you feel sore, definitely brtter then when you were bloody and hurting in the dank closet but sore nonetheless. Anul is right besides you, his long violet hair wafting on your bed, his face planted into the cushions of the mattress breathing softly. How long had you been out? How long had the prince been here? He certainly didn't look like himself, hair messy, clothes rumpled.

You hesitated for a moment, reaching out to stroke his soft wavy hair, then without warning his jumped up and statched at your wrist. His eyes were bloodshot, (had he been crying, did something else happen while you were out?) and the hold on your wrist was only getting tighter.

"A-Anul, you're hurting me." he lets go in an instant and immediately sits up to hold you in his arms.

"Oh god, I thought you—" he choked and let go to place a kiss on your lips. they were chapped, but warm.

you only blinked, he didn't care that you hadn't kissed him back. "I am going to gut that pig alive you hear me?" he said squeezing your cheeks.

"I am going to peel her insides till they look like confetti alright?" he said desperately, "I failed to protect you, and look what happened. Oh my baby, my poor baby." he cried, kissing your cheeks lettinf his tears fall freely on his face.

"And you [Name], are to never leave my side again, I've already made arrangements for you to sleep with me so it won't be a problem." you flinched at the finality in his words but Anul couldn't tell.

All he could see waa the bruising of your face and a lot of bodies he'd have to dispose of, because he wasn't just going after that noble who'd set you up.

For generations he declared then and there anyone involved (directly or indirectly) in the attempted murder of his wife, would die a shameful and slow death.

[obsessedwrhys]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The Seven x Deadpool!Reader

t/w: loooots of dark humour/jokes, reader is insensitive and an asshole since they're also a supe working at vought, your powers are the exact same as Deadpool (even the skin condition), mention about killing, death, gore, r-pe, n@zis?!?!, alcohol, some intimacy (?). Also reader is gn!!

ᯓ★ here's a version with the boys <3

HOMELANDER

This man hates you so fking much

Has tried to kill you multiple times, he tried lasering you, tearing you in half and even throwing you into the sky but you just always manage to come back like the damn plague

Eventually he gives up trying to kill you and just had to deal with the fact you'll be kept alive... just temporarily though... he's still looking for ways to kill you

However, your powers gave you dozens of advantages when around Homelander.

He can be having a meeting about something serious and everyone would be listening to him due to their fear towards him, then there's you who'd be doing your own thing and just shout out unrelated things like "Donald Trump just blocked me on Twitter!! HAH!! SUCK IT CORNFLACKS!!"

Everyone turning to you with startled expressions while Homelander simply rolls his eyes before continuing his presentation.

You are a complete nightmare to the PR team, that's why for interviews or any events, you'll always be paired up with Homelander so he can keep you under control and stop you from saying weird shit that could ruin the company's image.

"So Deadpool, how does it feel being in the Seven working alongside Homelander? You've been working together for almost 3 years now" A reporter would ask as you two are surrounded by screaming fans.

"Like I'm in the twilight series, not because of the fantasy but because I'm still waiting for the part where he impregnates me—"

"O-kay! That's enough, just silly ol' Deadpool with those inside jokes"

"You can tell in this eyes that he wants to fuck me right now. HE'S GONNA FUCK ME!!" You shouted as you're being dragged away by him.

Obviously when you had found out about his relationship with Stormfront, especially her background, you had to say some shit about it. Not giving the slightest care about the fact he could be grieving over her death.

He'll be in his room standing in front of the window and you'd just storm in, being as loud as possible.

"I can't believe you dated a N@zi!! Is it because I'm Jewish?!" Which may or may not be true, nobody knows your origin.

He may hate your guts but if he ever needs someone to help him do some dirty work, you're the person for the job, you never ask why or how, which could be the only thing he likes about you.

"Y'know, maybe if you didn't have such a big mouth, you'd be tolerable"

"All the people I've slept with have said otherwise"

Compatibility? 50%

STARLIGHT

Before she joined the Seven, she had an image of what kind of person you were, she just didn't know it was this worse.

When you found out she used to work at this Sunday School Church, you just haaaaad to say something about it.

"So like, you say that prayer always works, but every night I pray for my hair to grow and it never does. Do you think God has me blocked? How do I get unblock?"

"Uh..."

You two surprisingly get along without one wanting to slice the other's throat, except sometimes the things you say can really piss her off. Which is why when the company assigned her a new costume, she was trying her hardest to avoid you, but you found out anyways.

"Holy shit Starlight! Nice costume, is this your Miley Cyrus breakthrough? Girl power!"

Insert her groaning out of annoyance.

Again, the second you discovered she was dating a guy behind the death of Translucent, you were heartbroken :(

"Of course this happens right when my therapist gives up on me!"

Despite your behaviour, you pitied her when it was revealed that she was taken advantage of by The Deep, so like any good friend, you took revenge by cooking his friend octopus and eating it happily in front of him.

"Revenge does taste sweet" You'd say happily while Starlight just watches by the side, both grateful and horrified at your actions.

In my opinion, you would definitely be the person she goes to once she starts working with the boys, you'll always be providing whatever information that happens in the company for her to use.

It helps her worry less about getting anyone killed 'cause you literally can't die.

Compatibility? 60%

QUEEN MAEVE

You're half the reason why she rethinks about her life choices when she wakes up in the morning

Not because you're a handful (which you are) but because you're always paired together on missions

"Deadpool! The hostages!"

"OKAY! God... you act just like my drunk uncle"

Which is a joke/nickname you like to address her by because of her alcoholism (yikes)

Whenever the company needs you for something, half of the time she's the one assigned to search for you.

There was this one time she caught you trying to have Anika track down Kanye West's location, nobody knows what shenanigans you were up to.

Another thing to mention was that you two were chosen by the company to sing a Christmas song for the year's Christmas ceremony.

Just imagine during the bridge of the song, she's singing normally while you're completely going off, your high note so high you were sure you had Mariah Carey a run for her money.

Even though she finds you a lot to deal with, you're actually her buddy to train with.

Since you're very skilled with Katanas, she likes to practice her swordsmanship with you.

You like to tease or make fun of her everytime she fails to strike you which is good motivation for her to get better. Maybe you guys bring out the best of each other?

Last thing I'd like to add is when she was found out by the public that she was a lesbian (She's bi but you get the running joke), you had gifted her a t-shirt that says, 'Biggest Dick in Town'

Compatibility? 80%

THE DEEP

Your human punching bag

If Vought was a high school instead of a company, you'd be the bully and he'd be the nerd getting stuffed inside the locker room.

For example, Homelander could be confronting Starlight about her relationship with Hughie and everyone would just start raising their voices til you come in yelling "SHUT UP!" to the Deep who had not said a single thing during the entire time.

Just imagine him staring at you like 😐

To be honest you also ate his friend octopus so you guys are actually never getting the chance to make up.

"Look dude, I don't appreciate your tone"

"I don't appreciate your haircut either but we can't all get what we want"

You may be a crazy person but you weren't going to be okay with the fact he violates every woman he sees, so not only did you cook the octopus but you also called in a male stripper disguised as a woman just for him to celebrate on his birthday.

Just imagine him all happy when you tell him the news and later that night he'll run inside your room, completely pissed off at your act after finding out but you just laughed and said.

"Happy April Fools 😚!"

"That's next month dipshit!"

Also, you never understood his weird fantasies. He has a thing for sea animals??You've caught him multiple times either flirting or getting off to one. It was concerning even for you.

"From how many animals you've fucked, you might just turn from the ocean's 'Seaman' to 'Semen'." You joked which he did not find funny.

Maybe you messing with him could just be your way of getting along with him since you're the same with everybody else, it's just he has more flaws to poke fun of and he's sensitive about them.

Compatibility? 5%

A-Train

He thinks you're fucked up in the head.

Half of the shit that comes out of your mouth just has him reacting like in the GIF

Buuuuuut you're the one he always brings to the club because you always know ways to give the party life.

You've somehow even got on the wall of fame, a lovely portrait of you with your hands making out a heart.

Also, you know about his business with Compound V waaaaay before anyone else did. He's still grateful you didn't tell anyone.

Just like everyone else, you also enjoy messing with him except he's fast and constantly avoiding you.

"Hey A-Train, how much do you wanna bet that I can die faster than you?"

"Dude... seriously?"

You guys rarely get sent on missions together because you're always slowing him down, not basing off the fact he's fast but because you get easily sidetracked with other things.

"Alright, we're here now, how much C4 do we use?"

"Fuck math! Let's use all of 'em!"

You ended up detonating all of the C4 on you before he could object the idea, he was able to run out in time, your action nearly getting him killed while you ended up dead.

But it's fine you'll just grow back.

You know that race he has against Shockwave? You'd be at the VIP section standing near where Homelander and Queen Maeve is, waving your huge banner that has a picture of A-Train's face and yours pasted over a figure carrying the other in bridal style.

Compatibility? 55%

TRANSLUCENT

He makes people paranoid but you make him disgusted.

There was this one time he was bored so he snuck in your room to see what you were doing.

At first he was confused why you had so many cute plushies but then the more he explored your room, he realised your room is basically every collector's dream.

You even had a huge teddy bear in the corner of your dressing room.

The reason why he doesn't like to spy on you is because the last time he did, he saw you putting your hand in the blender, then proceeding to put your private part into it.

Never again, he thought, never again.

He doesn't need to witness you carry out your intrusive thoughts.

Surprising enough, you're close with his son, I'd like to think that after his death, you practically became the kid's godparent. Though you can be sort of a bad influence, leading up to how he is in Gen V.

You always tell him you hate kids but he thinks otherwise.

After all, he can read people well.

You guys like to pull pranks on each other since you guys like competing on who's more sneaky

There was this one time, you woke up to find your suit gone so you ended up walking around the building, completely naked and unfazed by people's stares.

It was when you walked around the corner that you found your suit worn by someone else, turns out it was Translucent under it.

"Why is it so fucking tight dude? How do you stay in this shit all day?"

"You get used to it"

Compatibility? 85%

BLACK NOIR

Lovers.

He doesn't mind your attitude because he actually can't say anything about it.

No seriously... he can't talk.

But hey he's got a good shoulder to cry on.

"I just... hffgh... I can't believe my album didn't surpass lady gaga's... She doesn't even know how to use Katanas like I do!" You'd let out a loud sob while he just stares at you for a while before placing a hand on your shoulder, patting you gently.

You know the scene where he's playing the piano for one of the company's party? You'll be laying down on top of it and singing in your usual overdramatic high pitched voice.

He finds your humour amusing so he always does this little head tilt like in the GIF when you say some weird shit while waiting for his response.

Since both of you are the only members of the Seven that wears a full body suit, obviously you had to try on his but since it was impossible to achieve that, you just had the company make a copy for you.

He'll be walking down the hallway doing his normal routine until he notises another person in his suit, the moment you speak and he realises its just you is when he let's his guard down.

"I just got some transplants done to my ass, that's why I look different"

You both are never sent on missions together 'cause you guys don't work well, pretty much nobody works well with him since he's the silent type.

Example, you two were hiding behind some crates ready to jump on the bad guys who were snucking in illegal drugs. He gestured for you to wait as he went to check again, only to turn back to see you gone.

"Marry Christmas motherfuckers!"

He heard your voice shout and he found you standing on top of the stacked crates, machine gun in hand and began shooting aimlessly.

He didn't even do anything but just watch until you ran out of bullets. However, multiple survived and began shooting at you so you ended running towards where he's hiding at.

"Yankee yankee!" You yelped.

You know the video of the two girls taking off their wigs to reveal that they're bald and they start bonding over it? I'd like to imagine that's you and Black Noir with the skin condition under the suits.

One more scenario I wanna add, you guys could be having a meeting but since you were bored and you always hated meetings, you'd draw a big heart on a piece of paper and show it to Black Noir from across the table. Surprisingly he'd draw a heart back to you.

You were overjoyed so you began to draw you and him doing it, doggy style. He stares at your doodle for a while before choosing to just focus on the meeting instead.

Compatibility? 90%

(This took a while cause I was on vacation)

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Another dp x dc cause why not. Tim is 19 and Jason is 22, and these murderous middle children are hanging out on patrol when the chaotic little shit that is a 16 y/o Danny Fenton crash lands on their roof. He detransformed while flying due to exhaustion.

Danny: Owwww

Jason: Holy shit, kid, are you alright??

Tim: Where did you fall from?

Danny, testing himself for injuries: Eh, I've had worse. Not even top five on my list of crash landings

Jason: That's not helping your case.

Danny, finally looks at the brothers mid getting up: Holy Shit! You're Red Hood and Red Robin! Man, I know so many people who are going to be soooo jealous.

Tim: Even of the crash landing part?

Danny, beaming: Crash landing is, like, the least embarrassing thing I could have done to meet y'all.

Jason: That sounds like a story.

Tim: Also incredibly unsafe. Are you sure you're okay?

Danny, shrugs: Yeah, I'm good. Just tired, probably gonna take a nap soon. Can you point me to the nearest graveyard?

Jason: Why.. why do you need to go to the nearest graveyard?

Danny: To nap?

Jason: Just- Why are you planning to nap in a graveyard?

Danny, realizing that what he said is not normal: ... because it helps? And I'm less likely to be harassed?

Tim, curiously: How does it help?

Danny: uuuh... don't tell batman?

Jason and Tim share a look and come to a silent agreement.

Tim: Only if you tell us how you ended up in Gotham.

Danny:.... Yeah, okay, fair. I didn't exactly know I was heading here? I was- I just needed to get away as fast and as far as I could. I picked a direction and flew til I obviously couldn't *gestures to the spot he landed*

Jason, concerned: What or who are you running from?

Danny: Eh, my parents? Local government? Both. My less-than-human-ness got exposed, and I wasn't testing out if my parents' obsession with ghosts would win over any parental love they may have felt. I got shot too many times when they didn't know to have faith in that knowing would help my situation.

Danny: Oh! So my parents are walking OSHA violations and I had an accident that should have killed me. I mean, it kind of did. Which is why graveyard naps help, the ambient ectoplasum makes me heal and regain my energy faster! The other ghosts call me a halfa since I'm an awkward middle ground between the living and dead and....um, I definitely have a concussion

Jason, weakly: What makes you say that?

Danny: My friends and sisters say I'm allergic to straight answers and I'm just putting it all out there. Also wavey

Tim, stepping closer: Wavey?

Danny, tracing invisible waves on a building: Wavey. Can we go to a graveyard now?

Jason, picking Danny up: Sure, kid. You said it helps?

Danny, let's it happen: Yeah.. it's not a cure-all, but it helps

Danny, waits til they're on the ground: Once my head clears, I can probably help with the weirdness of your ectoplasum. Nice to know I'm not alone in the "undead" hero gig

Jason, trips a little: You- wha- Kid?

Tim: Interesting. You can tell he died?

Danny: Yeah? I can sense ectoplasum, the dead, and the undead? It comes with the being dead thing

Jason, pressing a button so his bike has a high back that he can tie Danny to: You seem pretty alive to me

Danny: That's sweet, but if my vitals look anything like a normal human's, I'm actively dying. My heart rate and body temperature are closer to a corpse.

Tim, checks both those things and his eyes: okay, that's scary. And you definitely have a concussion. I believe we should take him to see Leslie, just to make sure his concussion isn't too bad.

Jason: He definitely should see the good doctor before we drop him off for a nap in the graveyard

Danny, panicking: No Doctors! No Hospitals!

Tim: She runs a small clinic, actually. We go to her if we get particularly injured.

Jason: Plus, she ain't no snitch

Danny: I don't know...

Tim: What would make you more comfortable with going?

Danny: I.... I don't know. It's been years since I went to a doctor or clinic.

Tim: Would it help if Hood or I stayed with you the whole time?

Danny: Aren't you supposed to be patrolling Gotham?

Jason: we can do that after we get you set up

Tim: I have a safe house he can stay at after he gets his nap

Jason: Sounds like a plan

Danny: Man, this feels like princess treatment

Tim, frowning: It's basic decency

Danny, head tilt: Is it?

Jason: Yes. How old even are you?

Danny: 16, why?

Tim and Jason share disbelieving looks. They would have pegged him at 13, maybe 14 if malnutrition was involved.

Jason: Dude, what have you been eating? I'm pretty sure Red was bigger than you and he's the smallest bird.

Tim: Asshole

Jason: Baby Bat is taller than you currently, and he's 4 years younger than you. Embrace your short king self, Red

Tim, pouting: Not all of us can have their childhood malnutrition and physical traumas erased by evil cool-aid

Jason: I don't know. Ra's likes you enough you could probably ask

Tim, makes a disgusted face: No thanks. Rather stay short than deal with that creep

Danny, mumbling: why does that name sound familiar? Ra's Ra's Ra's Ra's-

Danny, jolts: Al Gul???

Tim, suspicious: know him?

Danny: Yeah! Worst summoning ever!

Jason: You can be summoned?

Danny, embarrassed: Yeahhhhh, I beat the ghost king in single combat and now am technically king? Sort of? More prince, since I'm considered a baby. Who'd want a 2 year old ruling? I have people I trust making decisions on my behalf til I'm an adult by ghost standards

Jason: Kid.. How is your life even weirder than ours?

Danny, shrugs: I was doomed from birth.

Tim: We'll continue this conversation after Leslie checks you out

Danny: That's fair

Danny not only has a concussion, but his leg is broken (he didn't notice) and has some burns (from his escape). He gets his nap at the graveyard, which does speed up his healing, so Tim and Jason ferry him between the save house and the graveyard several times as he heals. Before Danny knows it, he's been adopted by these 2 vigilantes. Danny shows them his Phantom form at the same time Tim and Jason reveal their civilian IDs.

Tim and Jason gaslight the rest of the batfam about Danny always being there for shits and giggles, just take him to a family dinner and act like nothing is happening. Danny, always one for chaos, plays along. Damian is so mad about. Cass and Steph are delighted. Bruce, Dick, and Duke are so confused, but Duke is happy to not be the only Meta now. Alfred and Barbara learned about Danny beforehand because they know all.

[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: The Storm Inside Your Mind

Request: Anonymous said: "tyler x reader with panic attacks"

Word count: 2k

Warnings: panic attack tw

A/N: obviously stole some of Kate's trauma for this one... I feel like I've written a few fics where reader has panic attacks now, so sorry if this sounds repetitive at all. But as always, thank you all for the kind words, replies, and comments on my work. It's super encouraging and very appreciated!!

The team isn’t chasing today. Instead, you set up the RV and some tents at a campsite, hoping to enjoy what little time you had left of tornado season. 

Tyler gets a fire going while Boone and Dexter drag the camp chairs around it. There’s only half an hour or so left of daylight, and the crew decides s’mores will do just fine for dinner. 

Boone makes a joke about s’mores meeting all his nutritional food group needs, everyone laughs. Tyler settles into the chair beside you, his knee gently grazing against yours to catch your attention. 

When you look at him, he winks. A silent toss of affection. A sweet reminder that it’s you and him, even amongst the chaos of all your friends. 

The sun sets, casting a thousand shades of pinks and purples through the sky. It’s mesmerizing– the evening is perfect. 

It’s amazing how quickly things can fall apart.

All it takes is one note– 

Dani grabs their guitar and begins strumming softly to no tune in particular. Then Boone shouts out a song request that makes your breath catch. You try to be subtle, but you notice Tyler’s eyes lingering on you, because he can read you just as well as he can read any storm. 

You offer him the best, most reassuring smile that you can– and it must be good enough, because he looks back towards the fire. 

You pick at the skin around your nails, because it’s always been a good distraction. But even that isn’t enough when Dani plays the first note– 

“Took my love and I took it down,” they sing softly. 

And then suddenly, you can’t breathe. All you can hear is your best friend asking you to turn up the volume to her favorite song when it had come on the radio only minutes before everything had gone so, so wrong. 

Normally, you can talk yourself down from these moments, you can practice all the grounding exercises your therapist taught you and move on. But you feel the sense of panic creeping up your throat and it’s strong and fast. You don’t think you can deep breathe your way out of this one without anyone noticing.

In a rush, you stand up from your camp chair and mumble something incoherent about needing to go. It’s not very subtle, but it’s all you can manage before stumbling into the RV– aiming for the bathroom. 

Tyler calls your name, but all you hear is the sound of your friend screaming it over the increasing winds as they reached for you. 

From there it only gets worse– 

It comes in waves– memories of Fleetwood Mac still playing from the radio while you sat in the car and frantically tried to decide which way to run– the realization that no matter where you went, the tornado was going to consume you– knowing that the overpass was the worst place to go, but your alternative was remaining out in the open. Your name tumbling from your friend's lips as she begged you to help pull her up the ramp because her shoes kept slipping. The sound of her scream when the chunk of debris sent her flying into the storm. You losing sight of her body after only a second– 

The bathroom door rattles. “Y/N?” Tyler calls with a knock. “What happened?”

“What happened?” your friend’s dad had asked with tears spilling down his cheeks after the officer told them that their daughter was dead. “What the hell happened?” 

“There’s no storm,” you whisper to yourself. “The skies are clear– there’s no storm.”

Tyler calls your name a second time and knocks harder– the door rattles. You grip the edge of the sink and bite down harshly on your lip to keep yourself from screaming. Because despite the calm conditions outside, the storm inside your mind is here– it’s rattling the door and shaking the RV– it’s creating dark clouds, and causing them swirling around in every corner of your body– winds are flying through your stomach and your chest, the air is heavy, it’s harder to breathe– 

You put your hands over your ears and sink to the floor helplessly. 

“Y/N, answer me,” Tyler’s panicked– you can hear it in his voice. “I swear to God, I’m gonna kick this door down–”

You try to inhale– to tell him not to do that– that repairing a door will be expensive. But instead of finding your words, all you can do is choke out a desperate sob. The storm has stolen all your air– it’s sucked it right from your lungs… 

Before you can try again, the entire bathroom shakes when the hinges on the door break loose with a bang. Tyler’s eyes land on you– huddled on the floor, gasping for the breath you can’t find. 

Except– it’s not Tyler. It’s your friend’s dad. He’s come to get you– to kill you like you killed his daughter. 

You attempt to push yourself backwards on the floor, but the bathroom is small and soon, you've only managed to wedge yourself between the toilet and the wall. You try to speak again– to tell him how sorry you are for getting his daughter killed– but you can’t. Clutching desperately at your chest, you heave and heave, squeezing your eyes shut. 

The storm inside your mind causes the clouds to start swirling around chaotically– 

The storm inside your mind rips trees right from the roots– 

The storm inside your mind destroys everything in its path– 

“Baby–” a familiar warm voice cuts through the fog. And then, suddenly, someone grips your knee, causing your entire body to seize. 

“It’s me,” a gentle voice murmurs. "Hey, it’s me.“

Through your foggy haze, you recognize Tyler’s touch– and when you open your eyes, you see him squatting down to get on your level. 

But your knees– you open your mouth to say, except all that comes out is a gasp– a plea for help. 

“Okay, it’s okay. Look at me, baby,” he says. “It’s okay– you’re okay.” 

“I– can’t–” you gasp, your own hands flying up to grip his forearms for some sort of lifeline to reality. “I can’t– breathe–” 

“Okay, okay, okay,” he says. He’s trying to stay calm, but you can hear the uneasiness in his voice. “With me.” 

He gives a deep, methodical inhale before letting out a slow, intentional exhale. “Just do it with me. Slow, like this.” 

He continues, and you try to match his pace– to breathe with him, but it feels like the storm has stolen your lungs– ripped them right out of your chest– 

“Tyler–” you beg, your voice hoarse. “I can’t–” 

“C’mon, with me,” he repeats earnestly. He’s looking at you with terror in his eyes, but you find comfort in their familiarity just the same. “We’ve done this before, you know how to do this.”

“I– I–” you stammer, but the words won’t form. 

“Shh, with me. Everything’s okay. I’m here. We’re both okay,” he assures you. His gaze is just so tender and soft and careful while his thumb grazes your cheek. 

“I- I can’t-” you choke again, “Please–”

“Shh-” he soothes. “Look at me, nothing else, just me.”

Your wide, desperate eyes meet his. You don’t say anything, just shudder and gasp frantically.  

“With me,” he repeats.

Tyler slow and calming, in and out breathes. After a few seconds, you latch onto the sound, mimicking it, and then finally follow along. 

“There you go,” he whispers.

Your facial features slowly start to relax as you’re able to breathe properly.  Without your loud, choking sobs, you’re able to hear your heartbeat pounding in your chest frantically.  

“Good job,” Tyler sighs. “Look, it’s just you and me, we’re okay, we're both safe–” 

But he can’t even finish his sentence before you lean forward and reach for him. Tyler takes advantage of your gesture and quickly grips under your arms, yanking you from the corner and pulling you forward. He sits back on the floor, back resting against the door frame while he rests you on his lap. As soon as he’s settled, you wind your arms around his neck– desperate and longing for some sort of comfort. 

Strong, sturdy arms wrap around you as you hide your face into his chest. You breathe him in, letting his familiar scent wash over you. The sound of his heartbeat races in your ear (bum, bum, bum, bum). It reminds you that you’re both here– right now. Not stuck in an underpass, not chasing a tornado. But here– on the floor in the RV bathroom. 

“It’s okay,” Tyler soothes. Upon feeling your shaky body pressed against his, he squeezes tighter. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here, I got you.”

You melt against him in response, bunching the fabric of his shirt into your fist, trying to communicate just how badly you need him to hold you right now. 

And that’s exactly what he does— until you can finally breathe on your own again. 

And then the wave of guilt comes.

Suddenly the realization of everything hit you– what a basketcase you’ve been, running off like that, having a meltdown in front of everyone– you probably scared the shit out of them. And then there’s the door– broken right from the hinges. 

Slowly, you pull back. 

“Are you okay?” Tyler says before you can even open your mouth. He brushes the strands of loose hair from your face.  

You exhale a deep, shuddering breath that you can feel down your entire body. “I’m okay,” you say, your voice raw. 

“Baby, you don’t have to run from me when you’re having a panic attack. I’m here for you, you know that.”

“I know,” you whimper. “I know– I’m so sorry– I didn’t mean to freak out–”

“Shh. Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay,” Tyler says. “You don’t have to apologize. I just– I want you to come to me when you’re struggling. I want to be able to help you.”

“I just—” you start, but you stop when you notice how choked up your voice sounds. You take a slow breath. “I can't think clearly when they come. All I could think about was getting away. I didn't want to scare you– I wanted to prove to you that I was doing better– that I wasn’t going to freak out all the time. But it–” 

As soon as you feel the tears burning behind your eyes, you dig the heels of your palms into them frustratedly, like you were physically trying to push them away. 

“It was the music. That was her favorite song.” You didn’t even have to say your friend’s name for Tyler to know what you were talking about. “I just… I heard that first note and I panicked– I just felt like I had to get away.” 

Tyler nodded in understanding. “You don’t have to hide from me,” he whispered. “Next time, you drag me to the bathroom with you and we’ll get through it together, okay? I think that’ll save us many doors in the future.”

You exhale a puff of air, your best attempt at laughter. 

“I’m just sorry you have to deal with me all the time. You have enough on your plate,” you groan, rubbing your tired eyes. 

Tyler sighs. “Baby, I drive around and chase tornadoes– shoot some fireworks into the air when I’m really feelin’ it. I think I can handle being there for you on top of that,” he says. “I love you. And I want you to be okay, always. That’s all I’ll ever want.”

Nodding slowly, you lean forward and rest your forehead on Tyler’s chest. 

Strong, warm arms anchor you to safety. You hold on to Tyler– letting the sound of his heartbeat (bum, bum, bum, bum) block out any noise from the raging storms inside your mind. 

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 4 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: Are you really his girl? He needs to test you to find out. All the while you're slowly slipping deeper into your trauma and his world.

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, mentions of murder and rape, threatening, choking, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, hinting at depression, manipulation, mentions of sexual activities and desires, gun usage, not beta-read, if I've missed any please tell me! 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

Something was really fucking wrong with him, but what was far worse, something was really fucking wrong with you.

Obviously you had known that and you could tell, it wasn't all your fault. Your mother had played a great part in messing with your mind, your character, your self-perception. Then there was the man whose hands you still felt sliding up your waist.

God, you hated when someone touched your waist.

And then there was the bane of your existence. The nameless motherfucker with the soulless eyes and the briefcase.

You weren't particularly angry, like he was.

You weren't especially cruel, like she was.

Most of the time you were simply afraid.

Sometimes it were small tasks that ended up overwhelming you. Saying hello to a cashier or putting gas in your car. Getting up to brush your teeth. Eating. On some days, all these things felt entirely impossible.

On other days, you gathered your belongings, sat down in the aisle seat of a plane and flew all the way to South Korea. Just like that. Like it was nothing.

So you never really understood how your mind worked and how someone could be so broken, yet still function in some way. After all, you went to work, earned money, got at least a few things done.

The thing you hated about yourself the most was your constant fear of everything. But the thing you were most ashamed about was that other thing.

His calm voice forced your thoughts away.

"How did you sleep?"

You slowly looked up, your expression guarded as you thought about the question.

How did you sleep?

After your dramatic, almost romantic declaration that you belonged to him, he did nothing. No torturous experiments, no water bowls on the ground, no apology cakes. He simply got up, wished you a good night and went to sleep.

You lied awake all night, expecting at least some kind of reaction. Of course you didn't expect him to believe your words. So far he hadn't. Why would he now?

"I didn't sleep." You said truthfully.

He hummed softly while he poured a cup of white tea and handed it over to you. You held the cup so tightly that your palms burned against the heat of it.

"That explains why you look the way you look."

How charming.

He smiled, almost teasingly. He seemed so awfully...content.

"Can we talk about yesterday?" You murmured.

"What was yesterday?"

You felt your own expression darken, something that didn't happen often, especially not in his presence. But somehow you couldn't help yourself. You felt like he was making fun of you.

"Well, I..."

What was yesterday? How were you supposed to answer that question?

You looked down at the tea cup in your hands and stayed silent. Maybe your mind was playing tricks on you again and nothing had indeed happened yesterday.

You slowly looked up and saw the shards of the shattered vase on the floor. The sight made you frown.

"I want you to do something for me today." He said matter-of-factly, while he adjusted his tie.

You looked up at him, your expression questioning. Then you slowly set the cup down on the coffee table.

"I want you to call your work and tell them you moved back home. To England.”

You froze. He couldn't mean that.

"I...What?"

"You heard me." And with that, you were forced to catch the phone he tossed your way. It was your phone. Your fucking phone. Had it been here all along?

"I can't do that." You gasped out.

Instead of answering, he slowly pulled out the gun he kept with him and looked down at it. The sight made your heart clench.

Maybe something did change. Maybe today was your last day on earth.

"I can't hear you dialing." He said calmly, as he played with the gun in his hands.

You looked down at the phone in your hands. They were shaking as you carefully unlocked it. Three messages, all from work. Just like expected.

You swallowed thickly. If you did this now, there was absolutely no hope left for you. Your life - or whatever you might want to call it - was over. He'd have his alibi and you'd be gone. Buried under a pile of dirt in some Korean forest, so many miles away from where you were actually home.

Tears stung your eyes and you slowly looked up at him, but he still wasn't looking at you.

You knew if you didn't call, you'd die anyways.

Any way.

You'd die anyways.

You choked back the sob that threatened to escape and dialed the number of your workplace. After a few seconds, you heard the voice of your boss pick up. "Hello?"

You took a shaky breath. If you just screamed your name, gun, gun, he's pointing a gun at me, maybe then at least your death wouldn't be so pointless. Maybe it would be investigated further and maybe, with all the little hope you had left, he'd get caught. You had to hope. It was all you could do. He’d get caught.

And fucking executed.

But before you could say anything, you felt his weight press you down into the couch. His weight on top of you and his gun pressed against your temple.

It cost you all your strength not to gasp. Your phone was still tightly pressed against your ear, with the difference that your hands were sweaty now.

"Hello? Who's this?" You heard your boss's impatient voice ask.

He pressed the gun harder against you, his expression furious.

"Me." You croaked out. "It's me."

After a tense silence, then the voice finally snapped: "What on earth is going on with you? Where are you, girl? Do you think you just get to stay away like that? Don't you know the goddamn rules?"

You choked back another sob while he slowly slid the barrel of the gun down along your jawline, pointing it up at your head.

"I went back home." You whispered. "I'm back in England. And I quit."

After another long, confused silence you heard your boss's voice again, but before you could make out what he was saying, he snatched your phone back and hung up.

"Good girl." He purred, before he pushed the phone into the cup with searing hot tea.

"No!"

The moment your lips parted in a desperate plea, you suddenly felt the cold metal of the gun press against your lips, demanding entrance. Your eyes widened and your chest heaved in rapid breaths.

"Keep being a good girl. Open up for me." He whispered.

When you still hesitated, he pushed the gun forward even harder.

"Don't make me say it again. You won't like what will happen then." He said between gritted teeth.

Hot tears streamed down your face as you slowly parted your lips and teeth. God, this was it. You had made a mistake, a grave one. Maybe the fact that you pushed him away last night. Maybe he was still angry about your outburst the other day. Whatever it was, now you were going to pay the price for it and the price was your life.

A quiet sob escaped your lips when you felt the gun push forward into your mouth. It felt cold against your skin, making cold sweat break out on your back. You tried to push it back using your tongue, but he only ever pushed harder. So hard, until you ended up gagging against it. That was when he stopped and held it still.

"Are you still my girl?" He hissed.

You tried to swallow, but the gun in your mouth made it impossible. Only then you realized how hard you were shaking. And all the while you never took your eyes off him. Tried to memorize him. Maybe, if you were lucky and got to Heaven after you died, maybe you could tell them who he was and what he looked like. Maybe you could beg them not to let him in.

"Are you?!" He nearly yelled and bruised your throat with the gun when he gave a rough push forward.

You coughed up another sob and nodded. A frantic movement.

He kept staring down at you, his eyes wide and crazed.

He would pull the trigger. He would kill you.

But instead he did something else.

You had no idea what was going on, all you felt was how you could suddenly move your jaw and tongue again, but instead you felt your fingers curl around something. The gun. He pressed the gun down into your hand and pulled it up against his temple. His expression was even more crazed than before and all you managed to do was watch in a mixture of indescribable fear and something like horrified fascination.

"Kill me." He hissed.

You stared at him, your eyes wide, frozen in fear.

"I told you to fucking kill me!" He yelled. "You will never get out of here, never and if you don't shoot me, I'm going to break every fucking bone in your body, before I kill you myself!"

Your fingers clenched around the gun, but nothing else changed. Your index finger, shaking like a leaf, didn't even come close to the trigger.

He growled in fury and wrapped a hand around your throat, squeezing hard. Hard enough for you to immediately gasp out in horror.

"I will make your life a living hell." He growled lowly. "You will spend every waking moment wishing you were dead. I'll fuck you so hard, you'll never stand up straight again, I'll punch you so bad, your organs will give up at once, I'll break everything there is to break and before all that I'll cut your fucking tongue out, so you can't even scream! Kill me!"

Every word made your chest tighten more. You could already see it. Already feel it. You could tell he was capable of these things. You knew something just wasn't right in his mind. You knew. But something still held you back.

Was it the fear that you wouldn't get out, even after you killed him? That maybe you needed a code oto leave? Was it the fear of what would happen if you got out? That people wouldn't believe you and you'd end up in Korean prison? Or even worse, back home?

Whatever it was, you lowered the gun.

With a frustrated growl, he yanked the gun back and pressed it against his temple. He gritted his teeth. And pulled the trigger.

"No!" You screamed in such a desperate manner, that your voice cracked and your body gave in. He might as well have shot you. The pain that struck your body was the same.

But, oh God, it wasn't loaded. It wasn't loaded.

Your body was shaking and you were covered in sweat, your eyes glistening with tears and sobs dying on your tongue. You held your breath. And he stared down at you with a look that almost mirrored your own.

After the insane, tense silence stretched out above your heads for what felt like eternity, he finally lowered the gun. With a soft thud it landed on the carpet. His hand shot out and he held your cheek. His touch wasn't cruel. It was a soft caress. The gentlest touch you had ever felt.

"Don't cry." He breathed.

Were you crying? You couldn't tell.

In your mind, you were dead. Unable to process that you were indeed alive and...no, probably not all too well.

"God." He whispered. His brows furrowed in thought and he slowly, carefully trailed his fingertips down until they met your neck. Soft red marks covered it where his fingers had tightly squeezed before, cutting off your air supply. You had hardly even registered them, until you felt his gaze and fingers following the marks in quiet contemplation.

"It was a test?"

Your voice didn't sound like your own. Not even human. Just a soft breath of the wind, barely audible, if there had been anything louder than your breaths mingling in the air.

"Yes." He whispered. "I needed to know."

God, you wanted to be angry. You were angry. You wanted to fight him, punch his godforsaken, pretty face, beat him to a pulp. You wanted to hit him with the gun and make him swallow a bullet. Or ten.

But all you really did was release a soft, shuddery sob.

He seemed just as exhausted as you were, because he collapsed on top of you. His harsh breaths fanned over your neck, while he buried his face in your hair, his body on top of yours pulling the remaining air from your lungs. But that wasn't what you felt.

What you felt was his body on top of you, warm and almost comforting. What you felt was his skin against yours, a mixture of salty sweat and perfume and also something that was uniquely him.

You wanted to scream. Shriek. In anger, frustration, fear and disappointment.

But what you did instead was even worse.

Your hands, soft and careful, moved to his back and remained there. Your arms, weak and exhausted, wrapped around his form and embraced him. You didn't care that you could hardly breathe. You felt him.

You hugged him.

And you felt him stiffen on top of you. Of course, you were sure, had you hit him, his body wouldn't have gone as tense.

But that didn't make you stop.

Instead you simply tightened your arms around him and buried your face in his chest, breathing in his scent and trying to calm your nerves. And to your great surprise, he let you.

"The rules are simple."

Of course there were rules.

"When you're outside, you don't talk to other men. You don't even look at them. If I catch you doing that, I'll cut off your hair."

You nearly scoffed. As if you would ever come back to him, if you ever made it out on your own.

He seemed to read your thoughts, because he narrowed his eyes and smiled slowly.

"Don't worry, sweet girl. You won't go out until you're ready. And when you are, you'll come back to me. You'll always come back."

You tried to school your expression, but the unease was obvious.

He leaned closer and whispered: "And if I find out you're deceiving me or betraying me, I'll cut off far more than your hair."

A shiver ran down your spine and not the good kind. You nodded.

"Anything else?" You whispered.

He hummed softly.

"The foundation of our relationship stays the same, my sweet, darling girl." He murmured as he gently played with a strand of your hair. "You'll get punished when you step out of line and rewarded when you're good for me."

Of course. What else did you expect?

"As for the physical part..."

You stopped breathing. And you were sure you could hear your own heart, pounding in your chest like it was begging you to stop it from beating. To rip it out.

He hummed again and ran his fingers down to your shoulder, where he absentmindedly fidgeted with the straps of your dress.

"I have needs, sweet girl. Many of them. And they're not easily satisfied."

You stared at him.

When he didn't continue, you forced yourself to whisper: "What kind of needs?"

That made his lips curve up into a predatory grin, baring his teeth in the process. One of them was slightly crooked, you suddenly realized. Not much and it didn't do anything to his attractiveness. He was still the most handsome, soulless monster you had ever met. But something about that tiny little imperfection comforted you.

Reminded you that he was still human, instead of the devil, trapped in human form.

"You can't tell?" He purred and you shook your head.

Then he sighed softly and leaned close enough that you felt his hot breath against your ear.

"I think our needs match quite well, yours and mine."

That made your face flush in a deep crimson. No. He wouldn't use that against you, would he? Not even he  could be that cruel.

He had used every mind game he played with you to find out more about that shameful thing you hated so much about yourself.

Of course he was pushy about it.

But at some point, whenever he tended to get ahead of himself, he suddenly stopped and the game was over. And he always called you a good girl afterwards. Something that made your insides tingle in a way that was pleasant and unpleasant all the same.

"Don't look at me like that." He said calmly and took a sip of his whiskey. "Did you think I wouldn't catch on that, huh?"

You averted your gaze. Yes, he was cruel like that. You didn't know why you expected him not to be. Especially after he used every opportunity to prove to you how twisted he really was.

He wasn't capable of feeling. You knew that. Except for maybe anger. And satisfaction. But that was it. No sympathy, no love, no compassion.

Pure malice.

"What I need to know though, why does a sweet girl like you have such twisted fantasies?"

You nearly choked on your water. You hadn't told him about your fantasies. Not per say. All he knew was...

"Being used."

"Used for one's pleasure."

"Not caring about my own."

Was that enough for him to know what the hell was so messed up in your head? And if he knew, could he maybe explain it to you?

It was your deepest, darkest secret.

Yes, you had mentioned it to the psychiatrist once and he had half-heartedly told you that you weren't the only one.

He had also given the tiniest hint of an explanation, why you were the way you were. But you had shut him off, before he could finish.

You quickly pushed the thoughts away. You couldn't think about that.

That had never happened. It wasn't reality. Your mind agreed with you, which was why it suppressed all the memories from back then.

"I don't want to talk about it." You nearly hissed out. That earned an amused look from him and he held up his hands in surrender.

"Calm down. And don't forget your place again. Did you forget what happened last time?”

You sighed deeply. "Will I always have to fear for my life when I speak up my mind?"

He regarded you with a long, thoughtful look.

"It depends." He said calmly. "Some things you say will merely annoy me and I can try to keep myself from punishing you for your sake. And the sake of your pretty face. I do tend to get ahead of myself sometimes. Other words could get you killed, sweet girl. So, try not to gamble too much."

You swallowed thickly. Sometimes you'd forget who he was, what this was and that you had no rights here. That you were no one, except for maybe his little pet, his toy, his...his girl.

"Okay." You whispered.

"Now, now. Don't be so timid. There's no fun in that." He raised a brow and smirked.

You took a long, shaky breath. Maybe the conversation could end here and you'd finally call it a day and-

"Were you abused?"

You froze. It felt like the worst, the lowest hit he'd ever thrown at you. You didn't feel uneasy, you felt straight up nauseous.

"What?" You whispered quietly.

He nodded. "Did someone touch you? Against your will? Except the little fucker at the train station."

"Aside from you?" You clenched your jaw.

He rolled his eyes. "I didn't ask if somehow hurt or hit you before. I know that your bitch mother did. I'm asking if someone touched you."

As much as you wanted to scream at him or jump out of the window - It's locked, honey. Don't bother. - all you could do was sit in silence and feel as the ability to move and speak left you.

He sighed. "That explains your desires. I should have known."

He took a breath and took another sip of his drink, blissfully unaware of the way your body slowly froze solid. The way you couldn't breathe. Just enough to keep you alive. But not enough to live.

After a moment he seemed to realize that something was off, because he did something that he normally didn't. He frowned.

"Are you well?"

Your throat felt tight. Suddenly you realized, while he was choking you, you could still breathe easier than whenever this feeling came up. This chokehold. The way it pulled you under the cold water surface. The way the hand slowly slid up your bare waist and...

You gasped for air and wrapped your arms around your torso, trying to keep yourself from falling apart.

"What the-"

You hardly even recognized him or the way he gripped your arms tightly, trying to shake you back to your senses. You were slowly drowning. The light was fading. All you saw was that one spot on the wall. You couldn't look away. It was your safe haven. Your lighthouse, your beacon. You couldn't cast your gaze away, even after he cupped your face in his hands and spoke to you.

His frown was deep. He seemed genuinely confused. Confused. Was that the right word? He was in a frenzy, almost desperate to bring you back. Get through to you.

"Look at me, goddamn it, look at me." He hissed and grasped your chin tightly. He considered slapping you, but for some reason he seemed to fear that would only make you dissolve deeper into yourself. So, instead he did something else, Something that was so not at all like him, it was nearly ridiculous. It was hard to believe. It was...

"Please." He whispered. His palms gently caressed your cheeks. "Please. Come back to me."

You blinked slowly. You were still under water, but instead of the wall, you could make out his face. Under lots and lots of pain and disgust, resentment and hate for yourself, there was his face. And his eyes were soft. So much water and you still saw it. His eyes were soft as he looked at you.

"It's okay." He whispered again and nodded.

The tightness in your throat slowly gave way to a few, slow breaths.

In. And out. In. And out.

And least you could breathe again.

You briefly closed your eyes. Everything came back to you very slowly. The train station, the handsome stranger. The way his eyes darkened. And suddenly they were soft.

After a minute or so, you slowly blinked your eyes open and the sight before you was confusing as hell. He looked...so...

Concerned.

But no, that couldn't be.

It were your mind games again.

You wished so badly for someone to love you, to care about you, to be kind to you for once, that you started making up scenarios.

As if on cue, he quickly forced his gaze away and cleared his throat.

"Here. Drink." He held your water glass to your lips and slowly tilted it up until you felt the wetness of the water wash over your dried-out mouth.

You were sure. You had imagined it.

You tried to focus on your breathing and that's why you missed that he didn't look at you again. The whole evening, his eyes avoided yours like a pest.

At least you could breathe again.

Tags: @ayieayee @eviebuggg @fictionalmen-dilflover

If anyone else wants to be tagged in Part 5, let me know 🤍

[midnightcrw]

Fight

Pairing: Ghost x Reader, Price x Reader, Soap x Reader, Gaz x Reader

Summary: Your child gets in trouble

a/n: This one is a little different from my usual ones, but I just felt like writing for all four of them. I'm not sure how accurate you'll all find them as I've deliberately exaggerated them, but I do believe that Gaz is a sassy man after seeing how he didn't want to shake Graves' hand. I've also named the children of the TF141, I hope that's okay with you all.

Scenario:

The moment you both heard that your child got in trouble, the first thing you two did was rush into the principal's office in fear that something happened.

And now you were both sitting in the principal's office with your child, while another child was there with his parents.

Ghost:

Your eyes widened as you heard the principal say that Daisy and another girl in her class had gotten into a physical fight.

"There was also something your daughter said that is completely unacceptable," Mr. Smith said, looking disappointed at Daisy, even though the girl apparently started the fight and your daughter was just defending herself.

"It wasn't even that bad..." Daisy muttered underneath her breath as she crossed her arms.

Simon was very quiet, but his stoic expression spoke for itself.

"Daisy, I want you to quote what you said," Mr. Smith continued, not wanting to hear another word from her unless she quoted exactly what she said to the girl.

Your daughter looked at you, a pleading look on her face but you just shook your head at her in disappointment, wanting to hear what she said.

She sighed and quoted what she had said before, "You have a face that only a mother could love."

Without missing a single beat, Simon started wheezing in his seat the moment he heard his daughter's insult to the girl.

You glared at him, "Simon!"

Trying to calm down, he put his palm on his mouth as he continued, completely ignoring the angry looks of the principal and the other family.

"Mr. Riley, I want you to calm down. This is highly inappropriate," Mr. Smith said as Simon calmed down.

A few seconds of silence passed between you all before your beloved husband opened his mouth.

"Did you win?"

"Simon!?"

Price:

It felt like hours as the girl's parents and the girl herself ranted and raved about the fact that your daughter Sophie punched her.

At first you had both been shocked, completely angry at your daughter until the parents opened their mouths to speak.

You almost fell asleep listening to the mother go on and on about how her daughter's nose was bleeding because of Sophie.

Price, on the other hand, sat still in his seat, listening to the whole thing, not having said a word since he walked into the principal's office.

"Your daughter should be suspended!" The father said, glaring at Sophie.

Mr. Smith didn't even get a single chance to say anything, as they continued.

Slowly, Price seemed to lose his patience and turned his head towards you and your daughter.

He whispered, "Punch her harder next time."

"What?" The principal asks.

"Nothing."

Price says as Sophie giggles at her dad.

You tried to stifle your grin by putting a hand over your mouth, just hoping that the parents would shut up soon.

Soap:

Your son sat between the two of you, his nose bleeding and his face bruised as he frowned at the boy and his parents.

You were extremely worried as you put a hand on your son, Callum's arm, and quietly asked him if he was hurt anywhere else.

Callum just shook his head, not wanting to speak while Soap was already getting bored listening to all of the talking the principal was doing.

"It doesn't matter if he started insulting him because Callum was the one who got violent," Mr. Smith said as you tried to defend your son.

The boy obviously looked much worse than Callum. His hair was disheveled and his face was bruised. His nose was also bleeding, as was his lower lip.

It looked like your son had done some damage.

"What exactly did he do?" Soap asked, wanting to know exactly how Callum had hit the boy.

As Mr. Smith explained what your son had done, Soap's eyes lit up and a smile appeared on his face.

"I'm so proud of you, you used the punch I taught you," Soap said, extremely pleased that Callum had listened and actually used the things he had taught him.

Callum grinned at his dad's antics as you put your face in your hands, sighing and muttering "Why did I marry this idiot..."

Gaz:

You were shocked to hear what your son, Ethan, had done to the boy.

Mr. Smith was obviously upset and angry that Ethan had acted so childishly, and immediately got into a physical fight the moment the boy wouldn't stop insulting him.

You felt the headache already pounding in your head as you rubbed your temple, completely out of it.

Ethan didn't really say anything, he just listened to everything that was said.

The boy's parents glared at the three of you, never once looking away.

The boy that insulted your son, looked angry, obviously still being pissed at the fact that Ethan punched him, even though he himself started with the insults.

Gaz was not even shocked, sitting there with his hand holding up his head up as he looked extremely uninterested in the principal's endless speech.

Rolling his eyes, Gaz moved closer to you and Ethan as he whispered.

"Did you break any of his bones?"

"No."

"Good, because I'm not paying anything in this economy."

[sticktothestars]

𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 , " 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 '𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 . " ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

a/n: *walks in, twiddling my thumbs* so i watched thunderbolts. we're just gonna say that i totally didn't fall in love with bob. AVENGERS FOUND FAMILY FANFICS ARE SO BACK GUYS. FHDSFFJ I'LL MAKE A SEPARATE POST ABOUT WHAT I THOUGHT ABOUT THE MOVIE, BUT YEAAH. I LOWKEY AM SUPER EXCITED & I CAN'T WAIT FOR YALL TO READ THIS 'CUZ I'VE BEEN HAVING THIS IDEA STUCK IN MY HEAD & IT WON'T GO AWAY. ANYWAY, IMMA STOP YAPPING NOW. ENJOOOYY!!1 (ALSO. you have the powers/fighting style of deadpool!)

paring: robert/bob reynolds x male!reader

word count: 1k+

warnings: slight spoilers for thunderbolts* if you haven't seen it. takes place post movie. slight cursing. contains a shit ton of angst & hard topics like anxiety attacks, child abuse, gore, & character death are mentioned throughout this oneshot. yeah i lowkey kind of spiraled while writing this lmfaooo.

════════════════════════════════════════════

──★

IF you told the [Y/N] from 3 months ago that you'd be working with the new avengers, you would've laughed HARD in your own face. Seriously. It would've lasted for like 7 minutes before you'd probably go tell you to fuck off or something. But now that you was here - saving people instead of being the one to end people for money - it felt trippy thing to even consider. Especially with the things you've done in your past. Despite your initial hesitation on even teaming up with this unstable group of people, you couldn't help but feel a LOT more happier than how you was before.

Maybe it was just the fact that saving people felt good or that you finally had a purpose in life - but no. It was something completely different. You was finally around people who understood what it felt like to not feel like they didn't deserve anything good or be stuck in an endless loop that just hurted you even more. It felt like a HUGE breathe of fresh air. Or maybe it was because you were around him like 99.99% of the time now after everything.

You met Bob in... troubling circumstances, to say the least. Bucky - a good friend of yours - contacted you while you were in New York in retirement from your mercenary past. You were honestly struggling a little. Working as an unsuspecting barista for some cozy coffee shop was nice & all, but it felt.. meaningless. So with one last second thought, you put your suit on & rode your motorcycle to a new mission. Which ended well overall, but with a lot of memories you wanted to lock away unfortunately.

But since then, the two of you have grown closer - especially since you were living together amongst the others in the Avenger's base. Bob obviously couldn't go on the missions due to not being able to control his powers all that well. You try to help him out the best you can when you're there.

...But sometimes that helping could go sideways.

──★

[Y/N]'s flicked open as he noticed the surroundings around him. Where was he? Just a moment ago he was sparring with Bob in the training room & then..

" Oh fuck.. " you muttered with a sigh as you realized what's happening. Your gaze fixes on a teen version of you - freshly scarred, WAY more defensive - yet afraid. Like there was something out for him. You knew what this was. You knew it all too well.

Back before you became a mercenary, you were a cage fighter in Orlando - trafficked at 7 & escaped at 16. 9 years of horror. Yeah that fucked you up pretty bad. Of course it would. But you had friends. It what kept you sane.

But they took that away too along with your dignity.

One night - when you were 16 - a new match was starting. They didn't tell you who the opponent would be. They never did. To them, it was just another body to throw away for entertainment. Having survived for so long & having so much blood on your hands, you'd think that you'd get used to it by now. But it only just got worse from there.

You stood there, watching yourself as your younger self enter the cage - a look of uneasiness on your younger self's face, tuning out the crowd of people as they cheered for blood. But you? You just wanted to know who else? Who else's blood would you have on your hands? As your opponent stumbles out into the cage with a shove from one of the guards just outside the cage, you saw your heart drop. Just by the horror on your own face.

Your opponent was your best friend, Liam. The Liam who stuck by your side through the last 9 years you've been here. The Liam who managed to make you laugh when things got that dark. The Liam who was your anchor. The Liam who you absolute adored like an older brother. You couldn't do it. You refused to. You couldn't do it if you tried.

" ... No.. No I'm not hurting him. You can't make me kill him. " You refused, backing away & banging on the cage's exit. Liam just watched you. He watched you try to figure out something. Anything to stop this match from happening. Liam knew this would happen soon. He was prepared for this. Hell, maybe he even prepared this moment from the start. You know that now. You wish you knew it sooner.

" [Y/N]. " Liam says gently, his voice calm - causing the younger you's attention to snap towards him, eyes tearing up as you tried to say something. Anything. But only a mournful silence filled between the two of you as the crowd cheered for the two of you to fight. You shook your head, keeping your head down.

" [Y/N], you have to. " Liam says gently, putting a hand on your shoulder as he approached. You just shook your head. " No- No- I-i-i can't- " You stammered out, clenching your fists so tight you felt as though you were bleeding slightly through your bandages.

" They'll kill you if you don't, kid. " Liam states. " I don't fucking care. " You say back, holding yourself close as you look back up at the 20 year old you've grown to be so attached to.

Liam sighs. " Well start caring. You're surviving. Even if it means killing me too. " The brunette says sternly.

" No! I'm not losing you! And I'm not listening to them anymore just to survive! " You call out so everyone can hear. The crowd boos, insults rolling out into the arena like a hurricane. The ringleader scoffs, motioning the guards to ready & aim at you.

Liam clocks this & horror enters his face, shielding you as bullets & sparks fly - the crowd falling silent. The bullets stop. Everything stops as a body slumps onto the ground. But it wasn't yours. It was Liam's. You stare at the hole covered body for what feels like a lifetime. You couldn't breathe. You couldn't even think straight.

Only when a guard grabs you is when you react is when you scream, absolute anguish & horror in your voice as it breaks as you're dragged out of the arena - new plans settled for you that changed your dna & life forever. The present you doesn't look away from Liam's corpse. You felt yourself spiraling within your regrets over the What If's.

What if you had let Liam kill you that day? You didn't deserve to live. Especially with the blood on your hands. The things you did without mercy. But Liam? He was kind. He was good. He deserved way better. He was so good & no one else ever got to see that goodness in him.

You scratched at the collar of your shirt, trying to force yourself to breathe but you couldn't. Everything felt so meaningless. You were meaningless. You were the problem because you couldn't keep your mouth shut.

Fuck. Everything felt so heavy. You collapsed to your knees, squeezing your eyes shut but Liam's lifeless body kept coming in again & again like a broken melody.

๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

" 'M sorry- M' so sorry- I-i should've known this would happen- I'm so fucking sorry- " A panicked & oh so familiar voice called out, snapping you out of your vision to feel Bob holding you in his arms tight as you sobbed. You hold onto his warmth, clenching his shirt. The two of you stay there for a while. Which seemed like forever. But neither one of you complained.

You sniffle slightly, letting your head nuzzle into the crook of the other's neck. And Bob just held you tighter. He couldn't let you go through this again. He couldn't bear seeing you hurt because of him.

You were probably one of the coolest people on the team, but seeing you fall apart like this felt gut wrenching. He mutters out more apologies, his chin resting on your head.

He's made everything worse again.

And to you of all people.

The man he absolutely adores.

──★

lowkey locked tf in on this one idk. hope yall enjoyed tho lowkey !! lemme know if yall want a part two or smthin cuz i'm down. SEND ME MORE REQUESTS PUHLEASEE.

anyways, that's it for now !! BUH BYEEE ^^

── DAMIEN ★

[hamzahsbaby]

bestfriend!hamzah who finds your diary and despite his moral compass telling him to leave it alone, he opens it and reads it ⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚

warnings/notes: hamzah invading readers privacy obviously lol. pls don’t read peoples diaries/journals. this is all fiction and let’s ignore the fact that this is wrong and just see it as too bffs who yearn for each other badddddd. enjoy!

you had a long night; work and errands you’d been putting off for weeks that finally caught up. still, you wanted hamzah to come over for your weekly movie night. he argued with you, telling you ‘it’s okay, we can skip this week. get some rest’, but no, you were insistent on the fact that you wanted him over, you hadn’t skipped a movie night in over a year and you weren't willing to break that tradition tonight.

and now there hamzah was, laughing quietly to himself as you dozed off on the couch. "i am not going to fall asleep hamzah!" were your last words before you were in fact asleep on the couch, snoring and all.

without any hesitation hamzah scooped you up bridal style and brought you to your room to lay in your own bed, like he'd done countless times before. this wouldn't be the first time he'd have to let himself out because you fell asleep, it happened quite often actually. you liked that he took care of you, but part of you wishes he'd at least say bye before he left.

you adjusted in bed as hamzah tucked you in for the night, letting out a big sigh, too tired to even open your eyes. hamzah lingered for awhile, his hand at your hip. he always stayed a little longer than he'd ever actually admit to you if you asked him; but truthfully, he just liked watching you sleep. you looked beautiful. peaceful. perfect. maybe it was a comfort thing, maybe a bestfriend thing, or maybe a 'i'm in love with you and i don't want to leave just yet', kind of thing. which one? you weren't exactly sure. but you liked it.

hamzah sat at the edge of you bed, taking in the chaos that was better known as your bedroom. he could draw it from memory if anyone asked him too; your messy bookshelf filled with books you'd read over and over again, your collection of trinkets that only he had the patience to listen to you explain, or the pile of clothes that always occupied your vanity chair.

except this time he noticed something new he’d never seen before; your baby pink notebook titled 'journal' that you must have forgotten to tuck away after your chaotic day. it was out in the open, sitting right on your dresser.

hamzah mentally told himself 'no', that he couldnt do that to you. best friend's don't do that sort of stuff — break trust and promises. but his eyes lingered on it, he had the one thing that could tell him if you felt the same way for him all at his dispense. right in front of him sitting on your dresser. did all the stolen glances and late night messaging mean the same to you as it did to him?

he mumbled a quick "sorry" before grabbing your journal and hurrying outside your room to read the pages of your sacred diary. it was all normal stuff at first; you talking about how your morning coffee is your favorite part of your day, or how you had to get an oil change earlier that week and you always got scared when going to the car place alone, or what you did with your girls that day. but after some skimming, hamzah found his name. his heart dropped, scared that maybe he'd read something he wouldn't want to hear, or even worse, scared that you did feel the same and he'd have to go on and pretend.

"i'm not sure what i did in a past life to deserve someone like hamzah. he's the best person i've ever met. like seriously. he takes such good care of me. i don't say it to him much, but i appreciate him so much more than he thinks. today he said he likes listening to me talk, it's such a small sentence but it meant so much to me. i always thought i talked too much. it's so crazy to think that the thing you might dislike most about yourself, someone else loves most about you??? maybe i'm crazy but sometimes i wonder how different life would be if him and i were more than friends?? i dont know ?? anyways i have to go, he's coming over soon. i can't wait to see him!!"

hamzah swore he could break down in tears. there was no dramatic build up, just you talking about him so casually like he consumed your thoughts on a daily basis, and well, he did.

bad news for hamzah was now he'd have to go on and pretend he didn't just read what he did. but good news was; he'd gotten used to pretending. he'd gotten used to pretending he wasn't absolutely head over heels infatuated with you. pretending that those glances that lasted longer than they should have meant nothing to him. pretending that you weren't the only person he ever looked forward to seeing. pretending that he wasn't in love with you too.

[eriklehnsherrific]

re: jackie

okay i've been thinking about this for WEEKS and i think some of the younger yj fandom needs to hear this because we are getting stuck in this overly dualistic pattern of thinking where it has to be either "jackie was a mean girl" or "jackie was a sweet, perfect girl", when neither of those perspectives is 100% correct.

shauna's betrayal objectively made her a bad friend to jackie, but i think it would be a disservice to jackie's character to act like she was a good friend to shauna. yes, obviously what shauna did was worse, but let's not forget how the show makes a point of establishing jackie as a sweet, popular, but sometimes controlling/self-centered person during multiple moments in the first season.

for example, in the very first episode, jackie insults shauna's music taste and taste in fashion. at first, it's in sort of a joking manner that feels like that's how she and shauna banter, but the whole "wear the red dress moment" is there intentionally to show that jackie kind of steamrolls shauna, as evidenced by shauna snapping at her after. it's one thing to joke with friends, and its another to insult your best friend's taste to her face multiple times and then be shocked when her feelings are hurt. not to mention that shauna got into brown, an ivy league school, and never told jackie because she didn't want to disappoint her. i saw a tiktok comment that explained it really well, saying "even if the whole jeff/shauna thing never happened, jackie and shauna's friendship would still likely implode once they went to college, as jackie would likely see shauna going to brown as a betrayal".

in the wilderness, when shauna votes with tai to head down to the lake, jackie ices her out right away. she slutshames nat and again insults shauna to her face about how she "makes people feel judged" when shauna is literally the only one defending her for not contributing. during the fight, when shauna admits she only did soccer to please jackie and actually doesn't even like it, there's a sad implication there that shauna could've avoided being on that plane if she had stood up to jackie's steamrolling/if jackie didn't pressure her to do what she does.

that's why the notion that jackie was simply "too pure" for the wilderness isn't quite correct in my mind; in my opinion, one of the reason jackie struggles so much with adapting to the wilderness is that she is one of the few yellowjackets that hasn't experienced that much strife at home. it is mentioned that shauna's parents split up when she was quite young (plus the fact that her room is in what looks like an attic, which gives the impression that she doesn't get a lot of support from her family), tai had that whole experience with her grandma/the one eyed man, van's mother is an alcoholic, nat's mother is an alcoholic and her father was abusive (not to mention the horrible way he died in front of her), misty was severely bullied, mari saw her 4 yr old cousin die from cancer when she was only 12, etc. unlike the rest of her teammates, jackie lived a relatively sheltered life with a big and fancy house, parents who were still together, and was popular at school. that's not to say she didn't ever struggle (ex: she mentions how her mother is on a bunch of pills), but compared to the rest of the girls, jackie hasn't exactly been challenged in life the way they have. that's why she wasn't as ready to adapt as the rest of the girls; she didn't really have to overcome obstacles like this, at least independently of her parents, the way some of her teammates did. the result was a dynamic in which the girl who, at least on the surface, is rich, beautiful, popular, talented, and smart, was one of the first to die because she became alienated from her team.

all this to say, jackie objectively didn't deserve to die the way she did. but let's not forget she tried to kick shauna out first, and it was only because of the aforementioned reasons that made her not contribute that nobody except tai tried to stop it. hell, even coach didn't go out to get her and he was the only adult there. that's why i think the whole "jackie would never have let shauna sleep outside" argument doesn't really hold up. they are all teenagers, and while what shauna did with jeff is selfish and stupid and cruel, she was also just a teenage girl. none of them had any idea it would snow the next day. none of them had even considered that jackie could die out there. and it especially irks me that a lot of people say "shauna is the reason all the bad things happened to her, its her own fault", because nobody deserves to experience child loss (let alone a scared teenage girl who had to give birth without any medication or the support of her family, only for her baby to die). her relationship with jackie, regardless of how much shauna hurt her, did not cause her stillbirth.

what makes shauna's relationship with jackie so compelling is that she does have legitimate reason to resent jackie and jackie has legitimate reason to resent shauna. the idea that only one of them is a bad friend and only one of them is a good friend is an extreme oversimplification that removes the complexity of jackie as a character and their relationship as a whole.

[velvetvexations]

I'd like to add something to the topic of forced impregnation / corrective rape of transmascs & men.

One thing I feel like other people tend to believe is that trans people with uteruses / the capability to get pregnant are "extremising" a problem that really only affects a few select trans people, surely not a lot.

What they don't get is that we're not extremising anything. Even just on the topic of forced pregnancy, I know barely a single trans man who hasn't been told that getting pregnant would fix him or that his whole worth as a person with a uterus is measured in how many children he can pop out at best, or being straigh up threatened with it or at worst having someone actually attempt to or fully act on that threat. And the ones who it didn't happen to? They know full well that it's always a "it didn't happen yet". That threat is still there, even without anyone saying it. People don't have to outright say it or threaten us because we just know.

It's not something we made up as a "gotcha" to trans women. In fact, it has nothing to do with most trans women at all, safe for the ones who can get pregnant! It's our lived experience. Our every-day life.

I was thirteen, just started my period, when my mother started to try to convince me that my whole worth as a person was making babies, that I needed to make kids the second I'd turn eighteen, that I would otherwise waste my life. And no, she didn't actually think that of all women. My cis sister? Never got to hear any of that. Just me. Because my mother looked at me being masculine and saw something she needed to fix (by only buying me extremely sexualised feminine outfits and telling me the stuff mentioned above, and that it was "only that" makes me one of the lucky ones). It happened to me not just because I was born with a uterus, because then it would've happened to my sister, too. It happened because my mother could tell something was "wrong" with me because I was too masculine. Got a little too exited when people mistook me for my brother. She didn't know what transmasculinity was back then in name, but she absolutely did know that it was "wrong" and needed to be "fixed" - and the way to fix a "broken woman" is to get her pregnant. She, of course, couldn't do that back then, but she could do her best to try to make me do that once I was "old enough" (I'm very glad today that she failed.)

And basically every trans men I've talked with about that topic had their own story like that or much, much worse. Only very rarely has a transmasc/man not experienced something like that, and even then, the threat is so omnipresent that even they tend to know exactly what I'm talking about.

It's a horrifying truth, it's uncomfortable, but it needs to be talked about. Our pain has been ignored and swept under the rug for so long, and people are still continuing to do so. So they can keep telling themselves that we "don't have it that bad" that we're "making a deal out of nothing" that what happens to us is just "individual cases" not something targeted. Because if people don't listen, they don't have to admit to themselves how they're playing into our oppression. Because to this day my mother is still claiming that she supports the trans community, after she did everything in her power to stop her son from existing. She won't listen to what I have to say because it "wasn't that bad", and my sister turned out great, so what do I have to cry about?

Nobody listens to trans men in general because it's never "as bad" as we make it out to be. After all, a cis woman said it wasn't that bad and she'll always be more believable than what ever a trans man or transmasculine person has to say. A trans man could obviously never experience anything a cis woman in his situation wouldn't.

This got longer than I anticipated. Thank you for listening and talking about this topic. I appreciate you, your work here is incredibly important and I'm glad you do this. Take care, and have a nice day!

(Also, this whole assumption about us "extremising" and "making a big thing out of nothing" also sounds a bit like hysteria talk to me, especially given that our conversation is about uterus-related things, but I might be reading to much into it here.)

the issue is that TRFs will take all this as "so you're saying that means trans men have it worse than trans women?"

like noooooooo you invented that sentence! that was nowhere in the original text girliepop!