A/N: I have a lot of school work so requests are taking a bit longer lately and this one was way longer than I thought it was going to be but it’s a song fic based off See You Again by Tyler the creator and if you wanna listen to it I have a link. Requests are open but not immediate so bear with me when I say it might take a week or so to get your request posted because I have a lot of them and still have school and life in general. But thank you for reading and if you sent a request, thanks for requesting.
Request: request please? song fic if u can with richie and the song 911/Mr. Lonely by Tyler, the Creator? if thats hard, See You Again by Tyler also? im sorry if its confusing i just think those two would be great
Word Count: 10,033 words.
Richie’s eyes are stuck on her, watching her move across the courtyard and pull his attention to her as does the moon to the tides.
He’s nearly drooling at the sight of her applying lip balm while she stands idly by herself.
The Losers are all talking by the trash cans after dumping out their school notebooks and supplies from their year, relishing in the feeling of summer freedom. And after cracking a joke to Eds, something had taken him away from the conversation. Y/N.
It would be easy to say that he had a crush on her. But that would be an understatement. Every time she walks into a room or nears him in the hallway, he can’t help but turn his head to look. The only thing is, none of the Losers know of his crush and all he can do is pine for her in silence. After all, if he even tried to make a move on her then her guard dog, otherwise known as her boyfriend Kyle, would chase him away.
The truth hurts but, it’s simple in this situation; she doesn’t know of his existence.
“Hey,” Kyle’s hand clamps down on her shoulder, “What’s up?”
Y/N turns her head from where Henry Bowers now terrorizes the Losers’ Club and flashes a suffering smile at her boyfriend.
“Nothing really but um-do you think we should help them? It looks like it’s getting bad this time…” She trails off softly and points to the boys across the yard.
She may not know of Richie’s existence, but she doesn’t like seeing anyone getting harassed by Henry. It’s disheartening for her considering the past she’s had at their school.
“No it’s fine, those losers can handle themselves,” He says, his arm sliding over her shoulder possessively.
They start to walk away from the school, Henry and his friends being ran off by his father at the same time when she meets eyes with a boy she doesn’t know.
Richie adjusts his glasses on his face, unable to tear his stare away from the beautiful girl. It’s baffling to him that she doesn’t even know what she does to him. That she’s constantly crossing his mind even though they’ve never talked to each other before.
Y/N stands against the wall of the pharmacy store, waiting for Kyle to get done his shift of stocking the shelves back where they keep the medicine so they can go to the movies.
Summer isn’t exactly her idea of fun, mostly because it brings her exactly what the school year has. Which is way too much time spent with Kyle and his moronic friends, wasting away time she should be spending with people who actually care about her. She should be spending her time doing the things she loves but lately? Nothing can bring her happiness.
But here she is, waiting for him to walk out of those doors a half hour earlier than she has to because her life has hit such a monumental standstill.
The bell on the front entrance to the store chimes and Y/N looks at Mr. Keane straightening up through the dark lenses of her sunglasses, getting ready to sell to the oncoming customers.
Usually, when she spends these never-ending half hours waiting for Kyle to get off of work, the only people who come in the store are the older citizens of Derry and a few regulars who come in to get their prescriptions filled. The boys who just walked in make her dip down the shades over her eyes to the bridge of her nose to get a better look though. Because she’s never seen them in here all at once. In fact, she’s only seen one of them in the store and that was once a few months ago.
“Um, w-what should we get him?” One of the boys, Bill Denbrough, asks his friends
Y/N barely makes a sound as she starts to move across the store to where they’re talking. When she first moved to Derry last year, she was as unpopular as the Losers are right now except she didn’t have anyone else by her side like they do with each other. She’s always been subconsciously aware of their presence, as someone is always aware of the presence of trees or streetlights without having to pay much attention to them. But they’ve never acquainted themselves.
She thinks to herself that maybe, had she not fallen in with Kyle and the vapid popular kids who live in Derry, they would have befriended her.
“Is that seriously all we have? Guys, he’s bleeding all over and if we don’t-”
The boys stop talking before she can turn down the aisle where they stand, various medical supplies piled up in Eddie’s arms, and so she stops as well out of fear that they’d caught her eavesdropping.
“Bleeding all over?” Y/N mouths softly and glances out the front window of the store.
Her mind absently pushes the flashing image of the boy from earlier into her head, the one with the thick-rimmed glasses who Henry was teasing. And even though she doesn’t even know him, despite the fact that she doesn’t even consciously make the decision to go out there, she walks out of the store because of him. Whoever this kid is, if he’s bleeding because of Henry Bowers and his cabal of idiots, she’ll pull some strings with Kyle and find a way to draw the bully’s blood.
“I’m glad I got to meet you before you died,” A voice floats down the alleyway, sparking confusion within her and only drawing her closer to the source of it.
Nothing too interesting has happened in Derry until this year, with kids going missing left and right and parents being put through hell with it. She herself hasn’t experienced the grief that these disappearances cause in the lives of these people seeing that she barely knows anyone here. Only her mom, Kyle, and his friends. In a way, he closes her off from the opportunities of the world around her and the grip he has around her at all times is starting to choke her harder day by day.
“Oh my god!” Y/N exclaims and runs the rest of the way down the alley.
Ben Hanscom and Richie Tozier are both side by side, Ben sitting on a milk crate box while Richie stands next to him. Before she’d yelled at them, he was kicking rocks and staring off into space. But now he’s smiling at the sight of his longtime crush sprinting over to them. He even forgets that the kid next to him is bleeding for a second in the excitement of her actually acknowledging him.
“Are you okay? What happened to him?”
Richie’s eyes fall over her, quite literally getting weak in the knees at the sight of her sporting short shorts. Only in his dreams has she spoken to him. Only in his dreams has she gotten close to him. In his dreams, they’ve kissed, gotten together, broken up, and made up a million times. But if the guys ever knew about said dreams, he’d probably never hear the end of it since he’s always busting their balls about the trivial little things they do.
“Hey,” She snaps and waves a hand in front of his face, “Trashmouth!”
@miilkydayz Thank you for requesting I let you know what Sawyer is up to in her teen years.
Welp. Things are looking up for her!
Since certain happenings involving a team of adventurous ducklings a few years earlier, Sawyer has come out of her shell. If only by a marginal amount. She’s still very much the calm, collected and composed young lady she was when she was small. But it takes less to get her to open up. Particularly if you’re one of her close friends.
Sawyer had to lump her way into private school for her whole childhood. Not anymore! She’s permitted to go to public school. And it turns out to be way better for her. The shenanigans in the halls add to her day.
She’s not in any clubs, but enjoys her classes for the most part. She needs to reach for good grades at all times for being pushed along by the threat of returning to a private school. She doesn’t have much trouble getting good grades, aside from that she’d much rather be spending her time doing her own thing.
And, really, if not for her friends (namely a very stern Huey Duck) pushing her to study she might just give up entirely.
Huey tutors her in History and they sit next to each other in Woodshop, often partnering up for projects. Huey is better than her at this, but she follows his guidance and they pull through with flying colors.
She loves her Art and Music classes. And with some encouragement signs up for the school play, in which she played the mother in Fiddler on the Roof.
She knows a lot. She’s sly, and passes by unnoticed plenty of the time hearing and seeing all sorts. She’s one of Louie’s informants, and kind of enjoys being a part of his sneaking.
She stops growing quickly. At 16 she slows to finally rest a few inches shorter than, say, Donald.
She still spends time with the boys and Webby. Webby sometimes ropes her into doing crazy things that often involve the accidental destruction of school property. Sawyer never gets suspended, but is given a slip to take home to be signed by her dad. She signs it herself in a perfect duplicate.
Her absolute best friend is Huey. They spend lunch together a lot of the time, help each other with projects and have study groups. Sawyer gets to watch him doing good deeds around the school, being his helpful self with the teachers and amassing a fan base in the student body. She’s very proud of him.
She was there for the stapler incident, and could only quietly pull him down and shush his enraged shouting after the damage was done.
Sawyer once made a bully cry. The brute had been spouting some ugly names and was being very unreasonable to a frustrated Huey. After a few extra choice words to her friend and a couple of slurs to the frightened kid he was bullying, Sawyer snapped. She stood icily in front of him and let her mouth run about just what she thought of him. The bully didn’t bother the kid or her again, and few weeks later actually apologized.
Sorry, everyone. I’ve taken a break from my kissy duckies project, because it’s kind of become a bigger thing, and drawn this sooner than anticipated. I hope you enjoy, though.
’ How can you read this? There’s no pictures! ’
’ Well, some people use their imagination… ’
’ This is the day your dreams come true. ’
’ I’m-I’m speechless. I really don’t know what to say. ’
’ Say you’ll marry me! ’
’ I just don’t deserve you! ’
’ I want to do something for him/her… but what? ’
’ No, no! It’s got to be more something more special than that! ’
’ This is yet another example of the late neoclassic Baroque period. ’
’ If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had feelings for this monster. ’
’ I thought I told you to come down to dinner! ’
’ I’m not hungry! ’
’ You’ll come out, or I’ll-I’ll-I’ll break down the door! ’
’ Will you come down to dinner? ’
’ It would give me great pleasure… ’
’ We say please. ’
’ You can’t stay in there forever! ’
’ Fine! Then go ahead and starve! ’
’ Oh dear. That didn’t go very well at all, did it? ’
’ If she/he doesn’t eat with me, then she/he doesn’t eat at all! ’
’ Who said anything about the castle being enchanted? ’
’ It was you, wasn’t it? ’
’ Oh, you look so… so… ’
’ Not quite the word I was looking for, but perhaps a - little more off the top. ’
’ Maybe some other time… ’
’ _______, you are positively primeval! ’
’ Why did you come here? ’
’ Do you realize what you could have done? ’
’ I didn’t mean any harm. ’
’ Please… stop… ’
’ Who’s there? Who are you? ’
’ I’ve come for my father. Please, let him out! Can’t you see, he’s sick? ’
’ Please, I’ll do anything! ’
’ Oh, there must be some way I can… ’
’ Then he/she shouldn’t have trespassed here! ’
’ The master of this castle… ’
’ Wait! Take me instead. ’
’ You don’t know what you’re doing! ’
’ Yes. But… you must promise to stay here forever! ’
’ Come into the light… ’
’ You have my word… ’
’ For who could ever learn to love a beast? ’
’ Do I still have to sleep in the cupboard? ’
’ That’s not a request! ’
’ I’ve been burnt by you before! ’
’ I’m afraid I’ve been thinking… ’
’ If you’d hold still, it wouldn’t hurt as much! ’
’ Well, if you hadn’t have run away, this wouldn’t have happened! ’
’ If you hadn’t frightened me, I wouldn’t have run away! ’
’ Well you shouldn’t have been in the west wing! ’
’ Well, you should learn to control your temper! ’
’ Now, hold still. This might sting a little. ’
’ By the way, thank you… for saving my life. ’
’ Couldn’t keep quiet, could we? ’
’ Just had to invite him/her to stay, didn’t we? ’
’ I was trying to be hospitable. ’
’ I want adventure in the great wide somewhere. ’
’ I want so much more than they’ve got planned… ’
’ Well, Your Highness, I must say everything is going just swimmingly. ’
’ I knew you had it in you, ha ha! ’
’ You what? How could you do that? ’
’ I use antlers in all of my decorating! ’
’ I-I-I was lost in the woods, and-and… ’
’ Please, I meant no harm. I-I just need a place to stay. ’
’ What’re you staring at? ’
’ I’ll give you a place to stay. ’
’ No, no! Please! Don’t, no! ’
’ I’d like to thank you all for coming to my wedding. ’
’ Sir, close that at once! Do you mind? ’
’ It is with deepest pride and greatest pleasure that we welcome you tonight. ’
’ Oh, must help her/him to see past all that. ’
’ Well, you can start by making yourself more presentable. ’
’ Oh, it’s no use. ’
’ I don’t know how. ’
’ Come, come, show me the smile. ’
’ There’s a stranger here! ’
’ Pardon me, Master… ’
’ Leave me in peace. ’
’ It doesn’t matter now. Just let them come. ’
’ I’ll show you to your room. ’
’ Do you wanna stay in the tower? ’
’ You must control your temper! ’
’ Of course I came back. I couldn’t let them… oh, this is all my fault! ’
’ You… you came back. ’
’ If only I had gotten here sooner. ’
’ Maybe… maybe… it’s better… it’s better this way. ’
’ Don’t talk like that! You’ll be alright. ’
’ We’re together now; everything’s going to be fine, you’ll see… ’
’ And at least… at least I got to see you… one last time. ’
’ Please. Please… Please don’t leave me. ’
’ Well, perhaps there’s something there that wasn’t there before. ’
’ There may be something there that wasn’t there before. ’
’ Shh. I’ll tell you when you’re older. ’
’ I’ll not have you making up such wild stories. ’
’ Let me go! Let me go, please! Don’t hurt me! I’ll do anything! Anything! ’
’ I’m… I’m about ready to give up on this hunk of junk. ’
’ This castle is your home now, so you can go anywhere you like, except the West Wing. ’
’ I mean it this time! I’ll never get this boneheaded contraption to work! ’
’ Well, what are we waiting for? ’
’ I’ll have this thing fixed in no time! ’
’ You really believe that? ’
’ Be our guest. ’
’ Is it dangerous? ’
’ Oh no, he’d/she’d never hurt anyone. ’
’ Hmmm. Could you read it again? ’
’ Why don’t you read it to me? ’
’ You mean, you never learned? ’
’ I learned… a little. It’s just been… so long. ’
’ Well, here, I’ll help you. ’
’ What would you say if you and I took a walk over to the tavern and took a look at my trophies? ’
How bout some movie night cuddles? Either Bakugou or Kirishima not like horror?? 😎😎
B) enjoy sweet anon B)
hc that Baku doesn’t do horror movies very well but is a die hard action buff like he’d be all over Michael bay films like if it has explosions in it he’s sold
Kiri on the other hand pretty much likes any genre and is quite flexible movie wise but enjoys horror because Baku gets extra cuddly B) Kiri u sly dog u
Also! Still taking cute/angst requests so don’t be shy :D
Requests: “You are one of the only blogs that write quality Barry Allen smut, so thank you. Can you please write a Barry smut where he always is gentle with the reader because he doesn’t want to lose control with his powers. One night she confronts him and a night of vibrating hands and speedy enhancements occur? Thank you 💕” Credits to gif owners!
It was the same thing every time. Slow thrust, kiss, whisper your love for each other and then hand holding. You loved every second of that. Barry told you every single hour that he loved you. And all he did was make love to you, nice and slow, where you could be close to each other and rest your foreheads together. You loved Barry with all your heart but slow just didn’t cut it for you anymore.
The first time you confronted Barry about it, he reasoned with you, sped up a little bit and you made a really strange noise (indicating you loved it) and he figured he hurt you by accident because he was too fast. If Barry even thought about thoroughly fucking you, he would start to vibrate. But he’d never touch you when he did, his excitement about his fantasy would scare him into thinking he would lose control.
Authors Note: To the Anon that requested it end in fluff, I hope you’re okay with the ending! It’s not all that fluffy, but it’s all I could come up with, especially with putting two similar requests together! But I still hope you enjoy! Also, I’m very aware that the ending of this is kind of rushed and I apologize!
“Thank you SO much Gil! I really appreciate you taking over my shift!” You exclaimed, your hand reaching out and taking your friends hand as you made your way off the lower part of the dock.
“No problem, Y/N!” He smiled, his voice so full of enthusiasm that it sounded as though he was going to burst. “You’ve been put on watch every night this past week. I think you could use a break.”
You laughed, your shoulders bouncing in a ‘what can you do’ type shrug before slouching in acknowledgement. “Well, I guess that’s what happens when you start a fight with Uma.”
Gil let out a giant laugh, his eyes lighting up in childlike innocence before nudging you in the side.
“Yeah, I guess.” He agreed, quickly taking his sword out of his belt and laying it on his chair. “But you better be careful. She might try to throw you overboard next time, and I don’t think Harry would be able to stop her.”
You rolled your eyes playfully, the image of Harry even trying to stand up to Uma roaming your mind and making you laugh.
“Harry would let Uma throw me overboard without a second thought.” You joked, not once meaning your words, but knowing that Gil would find them hilarious.
Gil let out a small giggle, his shoulder nudging yours once again as he led you back into Ursulas Fish and Chips and toward your dorm.
“Anyway, thanks again, Gil! I really do appreciate this!” You proclaimed, your arms wrapping around Gils’ waist in a friendly hug. “I promise I’ll pay you back somehow.” You playfully winked, the joking nature of your friendship with Gil as innocent as it was flirty.
“With what? Candy? Popcorn? Candy AND popcorn?”
“All of it you can eat.” You replied, a small laugh escaping your lips before gently pulling away from him and making your way into your room.
You let out an exhausted sigh, the air heavy against your skin as it warmed you from the cold wetness of the dock. Breathing in deeply, you removed your belt and walked towards your drawer, your hands reaching down and removing you shirt as you prepared to change out of your ‘watch’ clothes.
Then, suddenly and without any type of warning, a loud bang rang through your room, the sound catching you off guard and making you stop in your tracks. Lifting your shirt so that it covered your barley covered chest, you reached down and grabbed your sword, immedietly pointing towards the entrance and at whoever dared to barge into your room without a reason. That’s when you saw your best friend Harry standing at your door, his eyes staring straight into yours as he completely disregarded the fact that he had walked in on you in a personal state.
“What the hell, Harry!? I could have killed you!” You shreiked, immedietly throwing down your sword and putting on your shirt.
“C’mon, love. You and I both know that that would never happen.” He slurred, his accent thick and rich in your ears as he made his way inside and shut the door behind him.
You rolled your eyes, quickly making your way over to your bed in order to take off your shoes.
“Yeah, whatever. What are you doing here?”
Harry breathed in deeply before making his way closer to you, his eyes showing an intense amount of anger that you weren’t used to seeing from him.
“What’s your problem?” You questioned, a light giggle leaving your lips as you assumed he came to rant about something Uma made him do.
Harry cocked his head to the side, his lips curling into a playful smile as he stood mere inches from you.
“Are you and Gil dating now?” He questioned, anger and sarcasm heavy on his voice as his darlky outlined eyes bored straight into yours.
“No.” You laughed, immedietly pushing him out of your way and heading to your closet to put away your shoes.
You had never even considered the idea of you and Gil dating, and you didn’t understand why anyone else would either. Gil was one of your best friends, and you did seem to playfully flirt with him a lot, but still. Everyone on the Isle knew that you’ve had a thing for Harry for years now. You were in love with him and it was completely obvious.
To everyone but Harry, that is.
“Really?” Harry suddenly continued to question, the glare from his hook bouncing off the wall and shining into your eyes as he made his way over to you. “Then what’s with all the hugging, huh? And the flirty comments?” He asked, leaning against the wall beside you. “I saw you just now, and people don’t talk like that with people that are just friends.”
“Then you obviously don’t have very many friends, do ya stud?” You joked, a small shrug leaving your shoulders as you heard him give you an angry sigh. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Harry. Gil and I aren’t dating.” You continued, not understanding why he would care so much about it in the first place. “Besides, why is it any of your business who I date?”
Harry looked at you in disbelief, his eyebrows furrowed in a strange mixture of shock and anger before he leaned away from the wall and hovered over you.
“Damn, Y/N. Are you really that blind?” He seethed, his voice so full of venom that you felt as though you’d been bitten.
“Hey, back off.” You demanded, completely confused as to what had made Harry so mad at you all of a sudden. You and Harry had had plenty of fights during your friendship, but he had never been angry at you. Not like this.
But the fact that he was angry at you wasn’t even the problem. It was what he was angry about. He had no reason to question you about your completely non-romantic relationship with Gil, and if anyone had a right to be mad, it was you for his complete inability to see that the only person you wanted to date was standing right in front of you.
“What the hell’s your problem, Harry? Why are you questioning me all of a sudden?” You asked, quickly walking over to him and poking him in the chest. “Besides, you may be my best friend, but you don’t have the right to get angry with me about something as personal as dating. That’s none of your business.”
“Best friend? Just…seriously, Y/N? Don’t you see that that’s the problem!” He scoffed, his eyes becoming glassy as his anger turned into disbelief.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, confusion filling your face as you questioned why your friendship was suddenly a problem for him.
“Because…” He started loudly, his voice fading to a whisper as he realized what he was about to say. “Because I just…” He continued, not being able to find the right words as his eyes traveled across your confused stricken face. “Oh, screw it.” He breathed, his hands suddenly reaching out and bringing his face towards yours.
Letting out a surprised squeal, you couldn’t help the shock that crossed your face as Harry’s lips connected with yours. You were frozen for a moment, your eyes wide open and looking into space before you finally gave in and kissed him back.
The kiss was slow at first, the deep flavor of sweat and saltwater heavy on your tongue as you pulled him closer to you. Harry pressed against you softly, his hands quickly leaving your face and wrapping around your waist as he lightly dug his hook into your lower back.
Giving you a relieved sigh, Harry removed his hook from behind your back and pressed you against the wall, his hot tongue immedietely making its way towards your lips as your nails ran diligently down his sides.
Letting out a gasp, you pulled away, the need for air becoming too strong as your mind tried to register what exactly was going on.
“I…I um…” You started, your speech completely gone as you tried to figure out what to say. “I..I -”
“That,” Harry interrupted, his face mere inches from yours as he continued to press against you. “That’s why I wanted to know.”
@kinfirms tagged me in a post talking about how internet “mom” culture is toxic, (I saw your tags, dont worry <3) and wanted to talk about it a little, but without the queer phobic language it was giving off.
For the most part, I fully and readily agreed with parts of the post detailing how adults can and do behave inappropriately in online spaces towards minors, and how the parental name thing can be a power move.
I grew up with a lot of fandom “mom” types, who with hindsight, turned out to be rather toxic and predatory. One of them actually took great joy in being a “corrupting” force, and would make lewd jokes and inappropriate comments towards us. And us being vulnerable kids who wanted to fit in and belong went along with it, because it made us feel special to be talked to like we were fellow adults.
Except we weren’t fellow adults and nor were we being treated as such. We were impressionable youths being treated like toys to stroke an older person’s ego, and that was 110% not okay, and those adults should have known better not to engage with us on those topics.
I’m hyper aware of being an older person in certain groups now, and try to act accordingly. I try to distance myself while managing to remain encouraging and supportive and hopefully, a positive signifier that people like me can and do grow up into happy (semi-)functional adults. I know there were times growing up when I feared I would not.
I will also never insist that anyone call me “mom”. It’s not a name I picked for myself. It’s an honorific deserving of great respect and mindfulness towards those who gave it to me, not the other way around. People can use it if they want to, and I will respond to it if people use it, but it’s not a role or title or sign of authority, and it’s 100% up to others if they want to use it or not, I don’t mind either way. And just for the record, I also respond to Aunt, Sister, Cousin, Bib, or even my rarely used actual name, Joy :)
I work very hard to respect the boundaries of others, and adhere to my own rules of interaction. I don’t follow back anyone under the age of 18 (with very few exceptions), and I always try to ensure the age of someone when they start talking to me about certain things.
Most of the people calling me “mom”? Seem to be in their early 20s, chronically ill or queer like me, and or at college age and going through that weird panicked stage of “help, I need an adultier adult how the heck do you make a food budget” so it’s not too much of a problem, but I still take those extra steps anyway.
I tag my work, I put it under cuts and generally make it known that I don’t want anyone under the age of 18 to read my 18+ work, because it’s the responsible adult thing to do—and it’s my responsibility to lay down those terms. Not the minor.
If a minor ignores my requests, my tags and the numerous other steps I put in the way to keep my NSFW work hidden? That’s on them, and I can only hope they find it positive and maybe possibly affirming as well—just don’t tell me about it. (I speak from experience, as a minor who went onto 18+ forums looking for something that would show I wasn’t alone with my thoughts and feelings. I found acceptance in queer fanfic that society and family otherwise denied. I wasn’t awful for liking both Superman and Louise Lane, I wasn’t awful and wrong or alone for not being sure if I wanted to be Princess Leia or be with her. And that was very important for 15 year old me, even if it would take another 15 years for me to feel safe enough to tell others.)
When people started calling me “mom” of their own volition, I had a real internal debate over how I felt over using that same moniker others had used before me, and done so in a harmful manner. I wasn’t too keen on it at first, it felt weird, but when people kept on using it without me prompting them to, I came to the decision that hey, it’s just a fun nickname poking fun at my personality, so I just kinda rolled with it. But I also made the conscious decision that if I was going to allow for that nickname, I would strive very hard to be worthy of it and be the adult I needed as a young person, and not like the people I had known.
But that all said? Not all adults take this mindset, and do not behave appropriately towards teenagers and young adults, and you should absolutely be wary of anyone who puts themselves in that position of authority.* It makes me extremely uncomfortable when I see other adults talk about younger people as their “minions” or pets.
They are not.
They are people who are deserving of your fundamental respect and often looking for some sort of help or guidance from a role model they lack in real life, or even just want friendly people to talk to about the things they love. They are not there to prop up your ego. Don’t do that shit. Reflect on your own behavior and say “if this was my child, would I be happy about the way I am interacting with them?”
If the answer is “no” or “I’m not sure”, that’s also a no, and you need to back the fuck off and reevaluate how you interact with others as a whole.
If you are in a fandom or online forum space where the adults are not behaving mindfully of your age, undermine you, or insist on inserting themselves in your life as an authoritarian parental figure? Go with your gut instinct and get the fuck out of dodge.
You are no one’s minion. You are you, with your own boundaries and levels of comfort. Don’t let anyone try to take them from you or make you feel bad for being uncomfortable with their behavior. That’s a common tactic used by abusers, and if you say to someone “what you are doing makes me uncomfortable” and their response isn’t “I’m sorry, how can I change that?”, but defensive anger or guilt tripping you? Fuck ‘em. There are other groups, other people to talk to. Make your own if you have to. Block anyone that makes you feel uncomfortable. You don’t have to put up with that bullshit to prove your own maturity or worth.
*And just because I feel this is important to say: please question me. Challenge me, point out when I say or do something that makes you feel uncomfortable. I won’t be mad or offended. I welcome corrective feedback. Tell me if I use an out dated term or if I word something poorly so I can apologize, reevaluate my behavior and try to change for the better. I’m human and therefore always learning and making mistakes, but they come from a place of ignorance, never malice. Take care of yourselves out there <333
It was nearly blinding when the purplish-grey dust flew around you and Dean. Before it could all clear out, and the two of you could actually see, Sam had nailed the witch. One bullet, directly through the back of her head, and you were fine. She collapsed into a heap on the ground, and that was that.
Sam’s nose scrunched up as he approached the two of you. “What the hell did she douse you guys with?”
“Some of her freak weirdo witch juice,” Dean grumbled, practically gagging at the stench that was coming from the dust. “I need to shower, like now.”
“Good thing we’re not far from the motel,” you chimed in. “So what do we do with Bellatrix over there?”
Dean scoffed, “really? Out of all the iconic witches, you pick the one from Harry Potter?”
A/N: Well, hello there. It’s been a while. This request has been sitting in my inbox for decades and I’ve only just found the motivation, inspiration, and dedication to write this up. What in damnation. This one… It’s not my favourite, let’s just put it that way. And also, I’ve made Harley seem like such a bimbo in this so I apologise, it was just a writing technique to create a contrast. But anyways, this was fun to write, taking some inspiration from my muse in my RP’s, thank you very much, @thekrazykeke and @i-got-that-smilex my darlings, I love you. So enjoy this one, my loves, and I’ll see you next time x.
Request: Hi! If you’re still doing requests could you do one where the reader is Mr. J’s tattoo artist, the only one he hasn’t killed. Maybe have a jealous Harley in it.
Warning(s): Swearing, slight (sexual) violence i.e. choking, sexual references, light dirty talk, Cheater!Joker, Jealous!Harley
Word count: 2,166
Pairing(s): Joker x Reader / Joker x OC (Original Character) / Joker x Harley
The bell dinged, signifying yet another customer entering the already crowded tattoo studio. Mind you, it was a Saturday at 1:19pm in the middle of a busy city - Gotham; to be exact.
City of Crime.
Has a ring to it.
Even though the dangerous city had quite the crude reputation to be… crooked, let’s say, she loved living in it. It was just something about living life on the edge - never really knowing whether the next day would be her last - that excited her and she couldn’t get enough of the rush that came with it.
Though of course, the perks also came with a few disadvantages, that many would say would be a little too colossal of a problem and would turn them away from moving to the crime-ridden town.
You know, just a tad of a turn-off.
She had run into - well, saw at the corner of a street and then swivelled in the other direction as fast as she could - many a criminal during her occasional strolls through the underworld.
Don’t take a midnight stroll on the wrong side of town, I’m telling you. It’s not a good idea.
There was one special occasion, however.
Meeting the one, the only, the infamous, Joker: Clown Prince of Crime - the ‘Jester of Genocide’, if you will - under the pale moonlight oddly drew her being towards him in some sort of way. Which way that was, she didn’t know herself yet. Maybe curiosity, maybe incredulity, maybe attraction, but she was certainly intrigued by the acid-washed man.
Now, the woman wasn’t an idiot, nor ignorant, at that. She had acknowledged the presence of his partner in crime - his Harley Quinn - nevertheless, she persisted in trying to get into his circle of trust, to be his friend, in an obscure form.
You would think being his tattoo artist wouldn’t get her very far, huh?
She was the only tattoo artist within a 3 mile radius of his unknown location in which he and Harley lived.
I wasn’t kidding when I said the tattoo studio was crowded. How much do you wanna bet getting a micro-sized rose on your ankle is? Joker made sure she was earning as much as your standard lawyer or doctor in the city by taking the liberty to act on some pretty drastic measures.
Basically, he execute every other tattoo artist in the general area, to put it simply.
But as one can imagine, his significant other would be slightly suspicious, and that was to be expected when your man paid special and notable attention to another woman. Yes, jealously wasn’t exactly an aspired trait in a normal relationship. But anyone who knew about them and their past knew that Harley Quinn and her Joker were anything but ordinary.
Jumping into a VAT full of bubbling acid to prove your love for a psychopath who manipulated you?
No thank you.
Although, with saying that, the adrenaline-addicted tattoo artist from a family background was seemingly willing to do anything and everything but.
“I was thinking about a new lip tattoo, whaddya think?” A deep yet velvety voice broke her from her trance and snapped her back to reality where she noticed she had just been staring out of the recently cleaned, sparkling window, wielding a tattoo pen that was still whirring from inscribing her art onto her last customer - she had forgotten to turn the machine off before spacing out.
Quickly switching the it off, she swallowed before looking up at the blindingly green-haired man standing in front of the mirror and pulling at his bottom lip, inspecting.
“Well if you want it to say "P U S S Y”, count me out.“ She retorted with a quick wit, something she never really understood if it was a gift or a curse. Her sharp tongue usually got her into some hefty trouble more than a few times. But hey, she was comical.
Her comment earned a chuckle from him which in turn made her smile to herself. Making him laugh was always a daily mission for her. To see him smile because of what she did or said was always an achievement.
"That’s why I like you, doll. You always have some sarcastic remark. It’s refreshing. Hearing the words "yes, Daddy” and “play with me, Daddy” from Harls everyday gets repetitive over time.“ He sauntered over after checking himself once over in the mirror - vain bastard - and sat on the extended tattoo couch, now level with her, as she had been sitting in her spinny chair, whilst she discarded of her old rubber gloves and put on a new pair, the sound of the material smacking against her skin as she pulled on them.
"Oh, I’m sure it must be very tiring to have kinky sex on the daily, J.” She rolled her eyes as she used his nickname that only certain people were allowed to call him. He normally only allowed others to refer to him as “Joker” or “Mister J”. She snickered at the glare he gave her before continuing, not adhering the warning. “I’m serious! Ya gotta use the handcuffs, the ropes, the ice, the foreplay, the whips… I would imagine fucking your tailor-made girlfriend who obeys your every command would be absolutely tedious.”
His hands were around her throat and squeezing within seconds after she had finished her sentence, making her stand up with him and letting him push her back into the wall with a thump, a constricted grunt of slight pain resounding from her closed throat. Her doe eyes looked up and met his narrowed ones with only a few inches between them.
“I don’t think you want to know just how interesting I can really be with my toys, doll-face, so I suggest you shut up about my sex life unless you want me to prove to you that you’re wrong.” His threat was laced with a presence of sexual tension. The sensation of his fingers around her neck and his breath fanning her face with seducing threats that came with his body mere centimetres away from hers almost made her knees buckle from underneath her and she had to stop herself from releasing an audible moan of desperation and anticipation from thinking about what he could do to her right then and there.
The two of them must’ve stayed in that position - staring each other down with nothing but their laboured breaths filling the room - for a solid five or so minutes until the door to the room slammed wide open and a bustling bleached-blonde skipped in, the sound of her heels tapping against the floorboards jolting the woman held against the wall back to life and she tried pulling away, but to no avail. Keeping his grip tight, but not tight enough to cut off the airways, he continued to gaze intently into her eyes. His glazed over with a fire burning deep inside of him that he didn’t conjure with his girlfriend any longer.
“Puddin’?…” A mixed tone of anger, disappointment, and rejection was detectable from Harley as the nickname for her lover spewed from her red lips. Walking into a secluded room to see the man she loved with a woman she had already been jealous of, in a position she thought was only reserved for her in the bedroom, brung out the worst in her as she felt the rage bubbling up inside at an increasing rate. Ready to pounce at the bitch trying to steal her boyfriend, she was stopped by the voice she had fallen in love with.
“Harley, sweetums, I want you to go home and be ready for me for when I get back, okay? Daddy’s going to get a new tattoo and I was just in the middle of telling our artist here exactly what I want. Detail… by… detail.” The reply had a sickly sweet underlay to it which, to any typical person, could’ve been easily picked up on and scoffed at - something she almost did - but to Harley, blinded by her emotions towards the criminal, it was just another demand for sex which she gladly complied to every time. She looked past everything she had just witnessed only minutes ago after hearing the pet name she had been called, convincing herself that the man dangerously close to a woman that wasn’t her, still loved her in his own way.
“Alright, Daddy, but don’t be long. I’ll be waiting…” An exaggerated grin, accompanied by a giggle, was sent in his direction before she turned on her heel and walked through the doorway, shutting the door with a click after her.
Shoving his body off of her, the trained tattoo artist dramatically gagged and stuck her forefinger inside her mouth. She was amazed yet disgusted at the same time at how submissive a woman could be towards a man. Never in her life did she witness such obedience without question to someone who was clearly not right in the noggin’.
“You’ve messed her up, J. Like real bad. She worships the ground you walk on. She’s just your fucking sex toy and she doesn’t even realise it, thinking you "love” her and shit.“ A rant had been building up inside of her until finally it started to be projected. "I kinda feel sorry for the girl. She was a psychologist, a good one at that, with a Ph.D, and you’ve somehow manipulated her and worked your way into her mind so that now she’d do anything for you. She’d die for you.”
“And that’s how I like it. People in this city respect me, all becau-.”
“That’s not respect! That’s psychological torture and I’ll be damned if I end up like another one of your 'dolls’ you can have fun with one minute and couldn’t give a fuck about the next.” She didn’t notice but she had begun to yell with pent up anger flowing out of her, she didn’t even register entirely what she was saying.
She had wanted to be by his side for as long as she could remember after meeting him, as his companion, his partner, his lover. She had thought she could replace Harley and become his new Queen of Crime. However, after seeing what previous Dr. Harleen Quinzel had now become under his hands, she begun to have second thoughts.
“You think I would treat you just like some random woman I picked up from the club? Oh, no, no, no. You… are one of a kind. You’re unique… You’re mine.” As he spoke these enticing words in a sultry manner, he came closer. Each step forward he made, resulted in one step backward for her until the back of her knees hit the chair and she fell back into it, now laying down. She watched as he placed his hands either side of her on the arm rests and wedged his knees beside her, crawling up her body until he was hovering above.
Her breath became uneven as she tried to stop herself from giving in and looking down at his crimson lips that looked o so kissable. “I want you. And the things I want, I get, no matter how. I know you’ve been wanting me since the first time you saw me. I know you touch yourself at night at the thought of me doing dirty things to you. When you’re alone in bed and your mind keeps drifting off to think about what I could do with your body. And I know how badly you want to feel full. You want me inside you. Isn’t that right?”
The way he spoke her thoughts aloud without caring who heard him made her cheeks turn a shade of red so deep she didn’t even think it possible and her core slick with want and need. The rough nature of his gravelly voice mixed with the undertones of lust and greed for her, visibly shook her as goosebumps appeared on her skin. Hearing all of these sinful words whispered from the mouth she had tried to resist earlier made her reach up to pull his head down as she just couldn’t take the teasing any longer, connecting their lips together in a heated, passionate kiss.
A growl was released from the depths of his throat as he shifted his body weight onto his elbows either side of her head and pressed his lower half into her, allowing her to feel what she did to him without touching him once. Hands moving to grip his shirt around his torso, she opened her mouth to grant him access to explore with his tongue before moaning gently.
Amongst all the fiery desire and passion the both of them were sharing, she had managed to remember a specific moment that had happened during his visit to the studio earlier before which made her pull away from his hungry lips to add her sarcastic rebuttal, as she always did,