Boyfriend!jackie Thoughts

Girl dad! Joker I literally need more bat!reader turned mini joker, Harley getting a daughter and they have fun little mother daughter playdates blowing all of Jokers money😭😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏

hihi ty for the ask !!!

okay so I would like to think contrary to everyone - i think Joker before what's happened to him - back when he was a normal functioning human being was actually thinking about having a kid.

Like he genuinely wanted a kid with someone he loved and appreciated- just wanted to make another being genuinely happy . Then tragedy strikes and he turns into Joker and for a good few years - his morality changes drastically and the thought of a kid is pretty far fetched.

So when he sees this little girl in the the rain crying her heart of because someone ran over her doll - he feels an ache in his cold heart and it scares him at first - he literally avoids her for a good while but then one day he sees her fall while sliding fown a lil slide.

And he just rush over to pick her up and from then on she became his daughter.

Him and Harley loves her- I mean how could they not ? All they ever wanted was a chance at domestic life after everything they've been through - contrary to popular opinions I don't think they'd involve her in their criminal endeavors .

I feel like they'd hold onto her as their ine chance at feeling normal so they just have someone trusted watch over her til they get back. Notably they don't do alot of messes that could land them in jail because after all they have a little girl to go home too.

I feel like Joker would read her a bedtime story and Harley would wear matching pj's with her. Like I said before in a precious post , Harley is that mom he's on the pda board and goes to every meeting and Joker is a big sponsor of the school.

Hey they might kot be good role models and they're both equally insane and fucked up but they make good parents.

A Jackie Taylor bot, you comfort her after she fights w Shauna and goes to sleep outside, pretty please 🙌

(alias, br aqui também🫣)

♯ 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 bot ˳ᐟ

── Alone. ❄️

Heyyy, my Brazilian friend! ;) I hope I fulfill your req, sorry if this is not what you looking for, but I do my best! Tw: just angst !! Intro message and link below!

link !¡

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

The cabin was now silent. A huge contrast to the ugly fight that had taken place a few minutes before.

Shauna had slept with Jeff. Jackie was hurt. So hurt that to avoid looking Shauna in the eye again, she went to sleep outside the cabin. On the cold floor, alone. Jackie kicked a sliver of stone that she had used to try to light the fire. She had failed. Failed once again.

Jackie's world had broken in half. Everything had happened so quickly, so many words had been spoken. Jackie's mind was in chaos, but she only had the courage to remember the last thing she saw before storming out of the cabin. {{user}} had gotten up, but Jackie didn't give {{user}} time to speak up, she just grabbed her sheet and left.

{{user}}. The name came out sweet amidst the mess and disorder they were experiencing. {{user}} was the one who helped Jackie cut a piece of meat, the one who swam in the lake with Jackie, the one who danced with Jackie at the doomcoming. The one Jackie felt something about with Jeff that she had never felt before.

Jackie was too stubborn to go back there, it was hard to swallow her pride and just accept the whole situation. So she waited. Because she knew that {{user}} would come for her. And she knew she would go back if {{user}} asked her to. Even so, Jackie's big eyes widened when a hand gently touched her shoulder. {{user}} was there. There for her.

Jackie heard {{user}} say something about freezing to death. Bullshit. She thought. “I don't care if I freeze to death. I don't think anyone would care." Jackie saw her facade of coolness break down, even as she tried to fight back tears.

Jackie felt her hands being taken by {{user}}'s, who placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “Come back with me." She heard {{user}} say.

I don't know if you write for Jackie but she's so pookie so Imma send it

Imagine like, loser!Jackie having the biggest crush on the reader and just being a mess trying to be confident around them to impress them, but just failing at that (reader is obviously endeared with this type of behaviour from Jackie)

loser behavior - Jackie Taylor

—

“She’s staring at you again”, your friend spoke to you as your eyes trailed to her.. Jackie Taylor The yellowjackets captian.. she has been staring at you for the whole hour she was to distracted by you. .. you knew what she was doing, ''you should try and talk to her'', shaking your head before you tried to speak the bell rang for the next class.your math class wasnt so bad but jackie was sitting next to you. ''hey did you know im the captain of the yellowjackets'' she tried to impress you her eyes looking into your, laughing at her and smiled at her, ''i know Jackie'' smiling at the captain, she was the biggest loser and you loved it.

Jackie Taylor was once again looking at you she watched everything you did write,laugh,walk… man you were a real life Disney character — she was in a trance.. your eyes trailed to Jackie who was staring at you again, “hm?” Humming at her Jackie blushed at you and played with her hands nervously, it wasn’t the first time she was near you - quiet for a moment she opened her mouth trying to find the right words to say to you. ''your boobs are nice'' fuck did she just say that to you.. ''huh?'' tilting your head at jackie.. she was a nervous wreck right now ''i mean do you wanna go hang out after school its kinda like a datebutiwouldntmindijustwantedtoaskyou'' nodding at her laughing ''sure i would love to jackie see ya after school'' you had left class leaving jackie alone in her thoughts who was cheering in victory like the gay loser she is

Jackie tries to mess with the radio…

Jackie: baby please. Find me.

The rumbling of a helicopter is heard…

The entire group sees a helicopter coming towards them…

The copter lands close by and Y/N jumps out…

Jackie runs towards Y/N…

Jackie: baby!!!

Jackie falls into Y/N’s arms, crying…

Y/N: I got you and I’m never letting you go

Y/N kisses her softly…

For @lifespectator

Hi may I please make a request? Neglectful Batfam (especially Dick, I don't know if the others would say it) always tell reader something along the line of "I'm sorry, you understand right?" after yet another forgotten promise of family time etc. Reader, genuinely yearning for the Batfam's affection, feels hurt but always tries to understand and makes excuses for them. It's only their best friend, a fellow civilian, who insists over and over again that reader deserves better, that no matter how well-intentioned the Batfam still does neglect reader, etc. One day the two have a huge fight over this and reader's best friend storms off only to be kidnapped by a rogue. Reader gets kidnapped too, but to their horror discovers finds that the rogue *also* has the Batfam and tells reader to choose: Their best friend or their family? While the Batfam takes it for granted that reader would choose them, while reader's best friend despairs that especially after their fight there's no way reader would've... Surprising even their own self, reader turns towards Batfam to say, genuinely apologetic, "I'm sorry, you understand right?"

Bonus the aftermath when the Batfam has successfully freed themselves and goes to confront reader, who's still *genuinely* happy about it but more preoccupied making up with their best friend uwu

Family dinner was scheduled for 7 PM.

You arrived at 6:55 with homemade cookies, wearing the sweater Damian said he liked. The manor was dark. Empty. Again.

A text came through at 7:48.

Dick: “Sorry, patrol ran long. Rain check? You understand, right?”

You sat at the dinner table alone, the cookies cooling beside your untouched plate. You did understand. You always did.

Bruce had work. Jason had intel. Tim passed out at his desk. Cass was chasing a lead. And Dick—your big brother figure, your once-upon-a-time constant—was off somewhere saving strangers with a grin while forgetting you.

They didn’t mean to hurt you. They were heroes. Protecting the city.

You understood… right?

Your best friend didn’t.

“You keep letting them walk all over you,” they snapped one night, pacing your bedroom. “You act like it’s okay just because they say sorry. It’s not.”

“They’re trying,” you defended, voice small.

“No. You’re trying. You’re always the one reaching out. Always the one forgiving. And they just assume you’ll wait around like some backup plan. You deserve better, [Y/N]. You deserve someone who puts you first.”

The words stung. Worse than anything the Batfam ever forgot.

And so you yelled. Defensive. Hurt. “They’re my family!”

“And I’m not?!”

The silence was louder than the shouting.

Your best friend’s face crumbled, lips trembling with words they refused to say. They grabbed their coat and left.

They didn’t even slam the door.

You hadn’t spoken since the fight.

And then they went missing.

Reported last seen two nights ago, no signs of struggle—just gone.

Panic cracked your chest open. You reached out to the Batfam for help. They said they were working on it. That you should rest. That they were close.

You didn’t rest.

Then you went missing.

Black bag over your head. Cold cement under your knees. And when the bag was pulled off—

You weren’t alone.

The rogue—a madman with a grudge against Gotham’s capes—had caged you, your best friend, and the entire Batfam. Their gear had been stripped, the cells lined with suppression tech. They were helpless.

And the rogue? Smiling like a devil.

“One choice,” he said. “Your best friend or your family. One lives. The other dies. You have sixty seconds.”

Your best friend’s face paled.

“Don’t choose me,” they whispered. “You don’t have to—I’m sorry for what I said. I love you, I just… I wanted you to see how much you’re worth.”

The Batfam said nothing at first.

Then Dick muttered, “C’mon, kid… you know who your real family is.”

Tim nodded solemnly. “We raised you.”

Jason, gruff: “You’re one of us.”

Bruce said your name like it was a command.

They all assumed.

Of course you’d choose them.

You turned toward them—quiet, trembling.

And then you smiled, sad and soft.

“I’m sorry,” you said, voice breaking. “You understand, right?”

They froze.

Your eyes were already on your best friend, who looked like they'd just been punched in the heart.

“You’re choosing me?”

“I’m saving you,” you whispered. “I’m sorry we fought. I’m sorry I made you feel second. You never were.”

Tears slipped down their cheeks. They reached for you through the bars. “I thought you hated me.”

“I don’t think I could if I tried.”

The rogue cackled. “What a twist!”

He didn’t get to finish the show. Because a moment later, Bat-tech sparked. Cass had pretended to be unconscious long enough to hack the suppressors. Bruce broke the cell doors. Jason tackled the rogue to the ground with a crunch.

Everyone got out alive.

But something shifted.

The aftermath

The Batfam came to see you the next day—bloody, bandaged, guilty.

Dick sat beside you, quiet for once.

“I didn’t realize how much we’ve been… neglecting you,” he admitted. “I guess I assumed you'd always be there.”

“I always was,” you said, no bitterness in your tone. “Even when you weren’t.”

He flinched.

Bruce looked at you. “You made the right choice.”

“I know,” you said, smiling as your best friend walked into the room with warm soup and a shy wave.

You lit up. "You're here!"

They blinked. “Of course. I owed you soup.”

You reached for their hand and held it like an anchor.

The Batfam watched from the corner, speechless, as you giggled softly with your best friend—glowing in a way you hadn’t around them for a long time.

You weren’t angry.

You were just finally choosing you.

And someone who had never once needed to say “you understand, right?”—because they did.

Equals - Yae Miko x Kitsune!Male!Reader

A/N: Something experimental today. It's an idea I've been sitting on for quite a while now. If you want to, I'll make more. Enjoy. CW: Mentions of abuse and dubious consent, discrimination, societal misoginy (kitsune culture and stuff), objectification, sexism and the aftermath of life under these. For context - a female fox is called a 'vixen', and a male is called a 'dog'.

The era of Kitsune is long gone. 

Taking a stroll through modern Inazuma, one would never believe that there were once as many youkai as there were humans living on the islands. Tengu, Oni, Bake-Danuki and among them, the ascended foxes - Kitsune. As their demonic fellows, they too had an island to call their own, one that has now been swallowed by the sea for centuries. There, Kitsune created a nation of their own, their hearth, their home. Alongside with houses and streets, they quickly formed a culture that would echo for millennia, right until the fall. 

Many elements of it leaked to the general heritage of Inazuma - the festive masks are one such example, followed by the entirety of ritual practice carried out within the shrines scattered across the land. After all, it's the very reason why a kitsune traditionally stands at the helm of the Grand Narukami Shrine. The same is the case of fox warriors - never has history witnessed a dog lead units of his kin or other peoples to war, at least not one that isn't an exceptional, legendary character of some kind. The reason for this state of things is not easy to find as few cultural sources remain, but scholars did not give up on their research. They sought the input of Yae Miko, one of the only Kitsune remaining in Inazuma, who gave them a simple answer - males are very rare. Satisfied, they placed her answer in the books, and the discussion was closed. 

But Yae Miko, as is customary for the current Guuji, kept the truth for herself. In truth, she decided to conceal it because it's an aspect of her kind that she is anything but proud of, even if she never took part in it. What was ordinary for foxes in their nation's prime would be unacceptable even for humanity of that age. 

There happen to be two ways a Kitsune is created. Primarily, it's through the union of two ascended foxes - a kit conceived this way is immortal and sapient from the beginning, gaining the ability to transform in just a few years of life. Even with a single birth usually resulting in three to six newborn foxes, dogs are rare, with one being born in every fourth or fifth litter on average. The second way of creation doesn't favor them either - so far, there have only been a handful of wild dogs that lived long enough to become ascendants, further reducing the introduction of males into the population. Luckily, evolution had it that those rare men welcomed into the world were incredibly resilient to illnesses and injuries, even by Kitsune standards, letting them live and spread their genes for generations to come. With the proper approach, the Kitsune weren't in any way threatened with extinction. 

As is commonly observed by historians, culture reflects the nature of a species, and such is the case for Kitsune. Over the years, the female-dominated society came to a simple conclusion: males are rare and must be protected. This prime example of a logical takeaway soon led to another, less egalitarian idea - something human researchers would refer to as infirmatus sexus, observing such inequalities in some cultures of their own. Kitsune believed that males must be protected, yes, but thought of them as inferior in intelligence and overall wit, as they rarely ascended from the wild. The vixen majority had no issue with this idea and the society turned matriarchal, increasingly more restrictive towards the men. But it was justified, in their eyes - they were required to prolong the species, right? As time went by, so did the objectification of the male sex progress ever further. 

Before the fall, society was based around large family units - lines ruled over by the oldest vixen, referred to as the matriarch. Beneath her were others - first, her own daughters, followed by those of her predecessor, then their offspring and finally, at the lowest rung, the foxes that just stood up from four paws. Dogs were not subject to this hierarchy, as they were dispensed with as objects with a clear owner - usually the matriarch. She had the right to mate with him, and when a change of power came, so too did the patriarch - usually switched for a younger male from another family, the further, the better. Similarly, male kits stayed with their father (raised, of course, under the careful scrutiny of the vixens) until they were of breeding age to be pawned off to another lineage for political favor, land, rights or simply cold, hard currency. 

Dogs that were too old to produce offspring or simply infertile were disposed of, in ways more or less kind, depending on who happened to own them. The majority got to stay as authorities for the youth and priests, and those with no luck were sold to slavers or human poachers. 

You were born into one such lineage on the fringes of the nation. You still recall the drawings of your infant self - an adorable pup with a pristine but messy white coat, two little ears pointing out, greedily taking in the sounds of the world. Allegedly, you had four sisters, though you never seem to recall their names. The first memories of young Y/N were primarily centered around your father - a towering, muscular fox with a gleam of wit in his eyes and grey eating away at his own fur. Despite his young age and fitting appearance, you always saw him as wise and ancient - maybe because of the hair, darkened by stress and exhaustion. He was cynical at times, but loving nonetheless. One of the fondest memories you had was when he would lift a panel from the floor and let you run free in the forest outside. There were rules of course - don't let anyone see you and come back before the first rays of sun. You enjoyed your time of unsupervised play, chasing squirrels and exploring the woods, always coming back through the same crawl space before it dawned. Your father would wash all the dirt off and send you to sleep with a warm hug, asking you to keep quiet about your adventure. Of course, you nodded along, but being a kid created the inevitability of a slip up. After you mentioned it to your female playmate once, you were taken away from that house and never saw it again. 

You don't know what became of your father. You didn't even get to know his name. 

The new house was larger, and so were the girls inside. While you didn't like playing with vixens at home - there was always an adult watching and you would get relentlessly berated for injuring yourself even in the slightest - you at least had somebody to have fun with. There, you had nothing. Lady Matsui, your owner and wife-to-be, simply had you locked in a room with books and toys to get yourself busy in the few free moments you had. You hated it there, but any mention of it would get one of the toys you had taken away. Any sign of disobedience to your caretakers, especially during exercise or classes, would get you punished. Matsui didn't seem to have patience for you, and was constantly complaining; she wanted a husband with red fur, not white fur. You were simply a temporary solution, and by the end, you would have all her deepest fantasies memorised. You were never part of them - as she said, you shouldn't get too attached. You were to be replaced shortly, after all. At least the food was alright. 

Years went by and it was clear that Matsui would have to begrudgingly accept you as her permanent husband. She didn't take it lightly at first, but after a time of angry outbursts and drinking, she had a sudden change of heart. “If I'm to own you”, she said, “I should at least train you properly”. And trained you were, both physically and in mind. Your free time was reduced to null and your days became dedicated to working out and studying. Sometimes the two were mixed - you had to recite the rules while doing push-ups. Good boys always sleep at night. Good boys thank their mistress for food. Good boys always listen. Good boys never question what they are told. Then, you were served unsalted, nutritious foods. Raw vegetables, slightly cooked meat, plain rice and raw fish made up your diet - all natural, as your Lady wanted. All tasteless. Any fussing, talking back, crying, making mistakes or disobeying would quickly put you in the punishment room. She would slap a bamboo cane on your hands and butt until you were red, sore and bleeding, she would make you kneel on small rocks or sit up the wall for hours, sometimes she would whip you. “Military discipline”. All the while she constantly announced her displeasure with your existence.

No matter how muscular you were made to be, it was never enough. So your diet was changed, shrinking endlessly to meet her impossible standards. No matter if you were tall, it was always too short for Matsui. So you were made to hold on to a bar with rocks tied to your ankles to stretch you out. Your knees still hurt sometimes, the skeletal deformations made permanent by this regular exercise. No matter how much stamina you had, you always ended mating too early. So you were trained, day and night, forced to perform through pain, distress and exhaustion. Sometimes Matsui had balls or parties held at her estate, and you were the main entertainment. You would dance, sing and play any instruments they wanted, but your wife and her friends were never there for your artistic skills in the first place. Your cries, moans and screams were much finer. Now that you think about it, her friends were likely never allowed to mistreat the dogs of their houses, so they took out their frustrations and carried out their wildest fantasies on you - without consequences. They were smaller, they were lighter, they were physically weaker than you, and yet you couldn't defend yourself. It would only make things worse - far worse if you did. You felt filthy. You felt humiliated. Afterwards you cleaned yourself frantically, but the feeling of their hands on you never faded. 

You ended up rubbing so hard that your body bled. 

You became a reclusive, quiet fox. Saying anything more than what was expected of you usually ended up badly, so you decided it's better to just stay silent. Taking your punishments and abuse with silent resignation was the only way of survival - without entertaining whimpers and pleading, Matsui and her vixens quickly grew bored of you. Instead of releasing your pain in front of them, you resorted to crying silently in your room, screaming without making a sound in the moonlight. You did all the things every male did - trained, ate, rested, had sex, attended events as a decoration and primarily - mated. Unlike your father, you never had the chance to raise pups. The female kits were always under the care of the vixens, and you didn't have the luck to sire any sons - for which you were always berated and beaten by your owner, even when she was pregnant. To her, she said, you were useless. Worthless. Even as a breeder. Still, despite not being able to hold your children in your arms, you did your best to learn of them. Some of your caretakers were kind enough to let you know their number and names. You diligently noted these details on a piece of paper, writing the names you would give your daughters if you could. Naomi. Ai. Juri. Kana. These and many more were the only connection you had to your little ones. 

It was the only good thing you left behind when you got the chance to flee. 

Internal rivalry between daughters, sisters and mothers was commonplace, so much so that it sometimes evolved into internal wars - you made use of one. Matsui made quite the negative reputation for herself, not just by mistreating you, but by cheating other families. They were out for blood, and although they wanted to steal you away for themselves, Matsui’s heirs decided that you deserved a chance. Once the fighting broke out, they took you away, threw you on a small boat you had no idea how to pilot and kicked you out to sea. 

It was hardly pleasant at the moment, but you would always thank them for taking pity on you after you landed in Inazuma. In the human nation of thunder, everything felt foreign. It was a bigger island, with long stretches of empty fields between sparse human settlements. These smaller, mortal creatures were quite the nuisance to you - although you saw a few traders in your life, you never got to take a closer look. But, instinctually, you know that stumbling into the view of a human guard was a mistake. You ran away and tried to hide amongst the jagged cliffs near the island's largest mountains, but you had unknowingly walked right into the hands of another, pink haired vixen. 

Your arrival in Inazuma was noticed instantly. After all, humans haven't seen a fox other than Yae Miko for a few centuries now. When she initially heard the news, she couldn't believe it - definitely, it was just another poorly-observed monster, or a mere trick of the light. But she still wanted to confirm that rumor, and the moment she saw a white pair of ears amongst the usual crowds of Inazuma City, she had a single thought - to catch you. Snatch you right up in a net, for whatever silly, selfish reason, if only to touch you and ensure you were real. It wasn't a surprise for her that you panicked and hid as quickly as you showed up - you had reasons to believe your freedom would be unwelcome. Finding you was barely a challenge for her nose, and with the help of a few shrine maidens, you were captured and brought back to her residence. 

What an incredible sight, you were. Definitely one for very, very sore eyes - Miko has long since abandoned the hopes of finding a partner of her own species and having a litter, which definitely contributed to her cynicism and general exhaustion with life. But here you were, real and in the flesh. An actual dog. A handsome, muscular dog. Soon enough, however, Miko's initial excitement dwindled and the factual gravity of things reached her senses. In front of her, curled on the floor, was a dirty, underfed, terrified creature. For somebody that, in the post-cataclysm circumstances of human society she was born into, would shake every room he would enter, you were frightful and quiet. You needed proper care, so Miko announced you would be staying with her until further notice. She then rolled up her sleeves and got to work. 

There was no doubt that you could understand her, and speak by extension, but you were significantly suspicious of her. Surely, she would want to chain you down again, you thought. She might even be worse than Matsui for all you know. Each meal she offered could contain one of these strange powders they made you eat when you were misbehaving, putting you to sleep and letting her do Archons-know-what to you. So you pushed the bowl away, and her alongside it. You had to stay strong. 

—

She takes the handle into her hands and, as gently as she can, pushes it down. The room before her is bathed in darkness, but her eyes pierce through it without issue. The matches she left on the table are untouched. 

What a surprise, she muses. 

From the moment her foot stepped over the threshold, there has been a pair of eyes boring into her frame. Miko casts a discreet glance towards the bedside corner. The resting spot itself was stripped of everything besides the mattress, now placed into a cozy nest of blankets and pillows in the safest spot in the room, the point furthest away from the door. From there your E/C surveyed Miko's every move. A part of her couldn't hold a smile. The unfortunate circumstances aside, it was quite adorable. 

“Good evening.” Miko says, picking up a candle from the shelf. She puts the plate of food she brought on the table and lights it, illuminating the space with a warm, flickering light. Placing the candle close to herself, she looks directly your way. 

There is no response. Your eyes continue staring at her, unblinking. 

No luck just yet. But I clearly have his attention, at the very least. 

A sigh escapes her lips. Miko takes the plate and steps a bit closer to you. “You clearly don't trust me. I can assure you I mean you no harm, and that I won't do anything against your wish, but I bet you want to see for yourself. And while that is alright, I doubt you will get to, the way things are going now.” She crouches down, placing it on the wooden floor. “You must have been through a lot, but please, you need to eat. I don't know what you enjoy the most, so I feel like this is the right place to start.”

Again, you remain still. Up close, Miko can see the blank expression on your face, dirty with mud, sweat and dried blood. Miko rolls her eyes, but manages to silence the groan of frustration before it forms. By no stretch of the imagination was she the best person to take you in, but if not her, then who?

Do you want to be difficult? Fine then. Two can play at that game. 

“Alright then. Suit yourself - if you don't feel like helping yourself to this positively scrumptious meal, I will.” Miko takes the single pair of chopsticks she brought in her hands and lifts a piece of sushi from the plate up to her mouth. She hums ostensibly, enjoying the taste of cold-smoked salmon. 

Something moves in the darkness. Your ears are fully up and pointed her way, like radar dishes picking up every crunch and smack of her lips. The plump, snow white rice and the bright orange salmon exude a tempting smell, reminding you of just how hungry you are. If she eats it without problem, then you should be fine too…

You slowly creep forward, the blankets and pillows around you silently falling as you stretch your aching arms and legs. Miko pretends not to notice you, but in reality her ears tell her exactly what's going on. She observes as your hand emerges into the light, your eyes never leaving her figure. Her sharp eyes instantly notice how chewed your fingers are, with no white nail to see. You snatch the piece of food and sniff it. After making sure it's alright, you bite into it. The delightful taste of well-seasoned rice and real, fresh fish lights up your senses. 

You reach for another. And another. And another. Before long, Miko is pushed back in your priority list and you sit in front of her, wolfing down the food straight off the plate in her hands. The vixen smiles. 

Finally, you're eating. It might not be much, but it's a start. You are just like a stray cat, aren't you? Scared, neglected and mistreated. Afraid of every shadow. 

She delights in watching your ears tremble under the speed of your eating. 

Such a cute creature. Who would ever want to hurt you? Certainly not me. Miko tilts her head. I wonder if I can…

“Thank you for the meal.”

Your sudden words make her pause. She never once doubted you could speak, but at the same time she didn't expect you to open up at something as simple as food. It was important nonetheless - if you spoke once, it would be just a matter of time before you speak again. And then she could learn everything about you. Who you are, what you like, and most importantly, who hurt you. 

“Do not mention it, little one.” She slowly stretches out her hand towards you. “May I?”

You stop eating for a second before bringing your nose closer to her hand. It smells like salmon. You return your attention to the delicious sushi on the plate. 

With a hum of satisfaction, she places her hand between your ears. They fold to the sides, making way for her. Miko rubs her hand over your grimy, brownish fur. It was white once, for sure, but now that colour is just barely showing in places. No worries - she would wash you and make sure your coat will return to its undoubtedly splendid layer. 

“I'm here. It will be alright.”

There's a long road ahead of us. But you won't have to walk it alone, dear. 

Thanks for reading!

The X-files x Yellowjackets - AU no one saw coming. A CC art-request of Lottie and Nat as Mulder and Scully 👽

Can I please request a yellowjackets fic of platonic Jackie x younger sister reader (sort of like Travis and Javi’s relationship - maybe reader could be friends with Javi too), I don’t really have an idea for a plot though maybe some sort of tension and fight w Jackie but then everything is fixed by the end? And reader is like pretty different from Jackie - in typical sister style. That’s so unspecific I’m so sorry I suck at ideas I just crave big sister Jackie (I feel like she’d be a Nancy wheeler variant) okay ty bye ily

𝗢𝗟𝗗𝗘𝗥 𝗦𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗝𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗜𝗘 𝗧𝗔𝗬𝗟𝗢𝗥 ┊ 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗒 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀

cw. just siblings fighting, javi & reader being friends

wc. 1.5k

n/a. tysm for ur request <33 at first i wanted to make her an overprotective sister (so that she was kinda like nancy) but i felt like making her bratty fit better with the storyline lmaooo, i hope it's what you were expecting tho :) if not lmk and maybe i can work on a protective sister blurb or something.

"Uno! Take that!" You exclaimed with enthusiasm, celebrating your third victory in the one-on-one game against Javi.

"This is so unfair," Javi said, rolling his eyes. "Let's play again. We're not leaving until I beat your ass." He spoke with determination.

You were grateful that you had packed your Uno deck in your backpack for the trip. Being stuck in a cabin with a bunch of teenagers and having nothing to do except stare at the rooftop for hours turned out to be more boring than you had anticipated.

Since the crash occurred, you and Javi had grown close. While you shared a few classes at school, you had never spoken to him before. But the shared misfortune of being on this trip as guests brought you together — Javi accompanying his dad, the team coach, and you accompanying your older sister, Jackie Taylor, the team captain. Not to mention that both Travis — Javi’s older brother — and Jackie were being assholes.

The initial weeks were challenging, to say the least. Jackie was being extremely annoying — she still is —, constantly bossing you around and disregarding your feelings. It seemed as though she was too absorbed in her own frustrations, always venting about the unfairness of the situation and the social events she was missing out on, like Rutger's rush week and all the frat parties. You knew Jackie didn't mean any harm, but it still bothered you. Additionally, the age gap with everyone being around three years older than you made you feel like an outcast and useless. Thankfully, you and Javi started getting along. You were assigned similar tasks, such as picking berries or fetching water from the lake, since both of you were younger and unable to handle more demanding activities. Thanks to this, you began spending a lot of time together and eventually became very close friends.

"What are you doing?" Javi asked incredulously, his eyebrows furrowing. "You can't play a +2 card after a +4 card," he pointed out.

You were aware that Javi was right, but decided to push back. "Yes, you can. It's literally stated in the instructions," you replied, attempting to gaslight him.

"No, it's not. You're lying," he insisted, firm in his belief.

"Fine, you got me," you admitted, flashing a playful smirk. "I'll take these four cards just so you don’t start crying," you teased.

“Ha, ha, so funny,” Javi responded with a smile.

Interrupting your playful banter, a voice called out from behind. "Hey, Y/n," Jackie said, grabbing your attention. "Have you seen my red lipstick?"

You let out a sigh as you glanced at your sister. Lately, she had been even more irritating than usual, probably because of the problems she was having with Shauna. Not that you were particularly invested in their drama. But the last thing you wanted was to engage in conversation with her, knowing all too well that it would probably lead to another argument.

"Yeah," you responded casually, briefly glancing away before returning to the game.

"Okay... So, where is it?" Jackie asked, her tone growing slightly impatient.

"I used it to write the S.O.S message on the plane," you replied nonchalantly, as if it were the most obvious thing.

"Wait... What?" Jackie exclaimed, her anger starting to rise. "Why the heck would you do that?”

Rolling your eyes, you replied sarcastically, "Oh, I'm sorry, Jackie. I forgot that packing a sharpie was at the top of our survival essentials checklist in the wilderness."

"You didn't even bother asking me!" she complained, her frustration evident.

"Well, maybe I didn't ask because you're such a self-centred bitch, always whining about missing out on your stupid parties," you retorted, your voice tinged with irritation. "It was the only thing I could find to leave a message for whoever might be searching for us. Stop being such an ass. I mean, you clearly wanna get out of here, dont you? Cooperate a little."

Jackie let out a loud huff, her lips pursed and a deep frown etched on her face as she stormed off, making her way towards the cabin. In her haste, she bumped her shoulder harshly into Van, who was heading to the lake. "Hey! Watch out!" Van exclaimed, her voice filled with surprise and annoyance. She followed Jackie's retreating figure with a confused and perplexed expression before turning back to you. You simply shrugged your shoulders, raised your eyebrows, and nonchalantly returned your focus to the game, leaving Van with a sense of bewilderment.

Javi gazed at you in stunned silence, but he didn't utter a word. After all, if someone could understand you it was him, as he had to deal with Travis. Without saying anything about the previous exchange, both of you chose to brush it off and swiftly changed the topic, resuming the game as if nothing had happened.

Three hours had passed since your argument with Jackie. After playing with Javi for about an hour, you decided to lend a hand to Tai with boiling the dirty pads. Once you finished the task, you stayed there for a while, gossiping with her and Van.

“I’m getting kinda cold, I’ll be right back,” you announced, rising from your spot on the ground and making your way towards the cabin to retrieve a hoodie. They nodded in acknowledgment as you left.

You entered the cabin and opened the shared closet, scanning its contents for your favorite hoodie. Once you found it, you slipped it on and turned around, ready to make your exit. However, Jackie stood there, blocking your path to the door.

You tried to walk past her, but Jackie swiftly reached out and grabbed your arm, preventing your escape.“Nope, you’re not leaving. You’re finally gonna tell me what the heck is going on,” she declared, her arms folded and her stance blocking the door knob.

You hesitated for a moment, contemplating your response. "What are you talking about? Nothing's going on," you insisted, trying to downplay the situation.

Jackie pursed her lips, clearly not convinced. "Okay... Liar," she responded, tilting her head slightly.

You made another attempt to leave, but Jackie swiftly blocked your path with her arm. "No! You've been distant and acting weird for weeks. Not to mention how mean you've been towards me," she argued, her frustration evident.

"Well, what did you expect?" you retorted, your voice laced with exasperation. "Huh? The only thing you've done since we got here is complain and do nothing except act like a child. I'm scared and I miss home too, and the fact that my older sister, the person I should be able to rely on the most, is behaving like a brat, doesn't help me at all, okay?" Tears welled up in your eyes as you spoke, the pain evident in your voice. "I just wish you were more like Tai or Van," you expressed, your voice filled with disappointment. "They take better care of me than you do.”

Jackie's expression softened as she listened to your words, her remorse evident on her face. She let out a deep sigh and her shoulders slumped. "I... I didn't realize," she admitted, her voice heavy with regret. "Shit, I'm so sorry, Y/n," she apologized, her words sincere. Without hesitation, she pulled you into a tight hug, holding you close. "I'm really sorry," she whispered, her voice filled with genuine remorse.

Overwhelmed with emotions, you couldn't hold back the tears any longer. "I'm sorry too, for being a bitch," you confessed, your voice filled with regret. "I just wanted my sister back. I'm so scared, Jackie," you admitted.

Jackie gently pulled away from the hug and tenderly wiped away your tears with her fingers. "I'm scared too, but we'll get through this together, okay?" she reassured you, her voice filled with warmth and determination. "Everything will be okay, I promise," she added, a soft smile gracing her lips. A tear escaped from her own eye, reflecting her sincerity. You nodded in response, feeling a renewed sense of hope and comfort in her words.

You embraced Jackie once again, holding onto her tightly. "I love you, Jackie," you whispered, your voice filled with genuine affection. She reciprocated the sentiment, her voice soft and comforting. "I love you too," she replied, her hand gently caressing your hair.

"But, shit, I just lost 10 bucks," you exclaimed, separating from her with a disappointed expression.

Confused, Jackie asked, "What do you mean?" Her fingers continued to caress the sides of your arms.

"Javi and I made a bet about who had the crappiest older sibling," you explained with a mischievous smile. "You apologized before Travis did to him, so now I owe him 10 bucks."

"Oh my god, I can't believe you," Jackie responded, playfully pinching your side. "And don't ever compare me to Travis. I might be a brat, but he seriously needs professional help with his anger issues," she argued.

You burst into laughter. "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say," you replied with a grin, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her outside with you.

So this kinda goes with my last request but when reader has top surgery. How would Jackie react when he goes shirtless all day when he's home? I feel like she'd stare and he'd do the "my eyes are up here" thing to tease her.

- 💀

oh, she goes crazy for it. feel like she never even considered the fact that you'd be shirtless so much more now after getting top surgery cause she was just so happy that you were finally able to get it, and once she sees you lounging on the couch, shirt off and your new chest on display, she just melts. you know she's hiding your shirts and playing dumb when you ask where they are cause it feels like half of them went missing.

jackie who buys you muscle tanks after ur surgery just so she can see your arms and glimpses of your chest. jackie who starts drooling when she can see your scars peeking ^^ jackie sneaking her hands underneath said tank while in public, messing with your chest and whatever hair you have there.

feel like she'd have such a huge thing for your scars as well. jackie kissing your top surgery scars the second they're healed, mumbling in her raspy voice how hot she thinks they are. leaving hickeys right under them and spending so much time kissing them that they end up covered in her drool at the end.

she just thinks you look so good!! she cant help but stare :( she's a mess when you tease her for looking too long or when you catch her staring at your chest as she's talking to you. "are you talking to me, or my nipples?" and her face goes all red but she doesn't deny staring...

she'd love to rest her head on your chest too oh my goodness ☹️ it's like her number 1 favorite thing after you got surgery. maybe before you were too dysphoric to let her do it and now she does it constantly. she tells--more like demands tbh--you to lie down so she can rest her head on your chest. it's a must during couch time.

ᴅᴀʀᴋᴇꜱᴛ ʜᴏᴜʀ | ᴊ.ᴛ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1410

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ʜᴇʀ ꜰɪɢʜᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜱʜᴀᴜɴᴀ, ᴊᴀᴄᴋɪᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀᴍꜱ ᴏᴜᴛ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴏꜰꜰᴇʀ ʜᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ ꜱʜᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅꜱ ɪᴛ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴊᴀᴄᴋɪᴇ ᴛᴀʏʟᴏʀ x ꜰᴇᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴀ/ɴ: ᴜᴍᴍᴍ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ ᴋɪɴᴅᴀ? ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʜᴜʀᴛ/ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ-ɪꜱʜ. ᴀᴜ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴊᴀᴄᴋɪᴇ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ’ᴛ ᴅɪᴇ, ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄᴀɴ ᴇᴀᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ᴇʟꜱᴇ (ᴛʀᴀᴠɪꜱ).

You hear the front door slam before you see her go.

Jackie’s footsteps crunch hard against the ground outside, fast and furious like she’s trying to outrun the mess left behind in the cabin. For a second, no one moves. The air inside feels thick, the tension still lingering. Shauna stands there frozen like she didn’t just detonate her oldest friendship in front of the whole team. Finally, Mari exhales, sighing like it hurts.

You shove your arms into your coat pockets and head towards the door, following her.

Nobody stops you. They all know better by now. You’ve made it your job to keep Jackie out of harm's way, even if she acts like she doesn’t need anyone. Especially now. You’ve always been able to tell when she’s just being dramatic and when something actually matters. And that? That was real.

You find her not far from the cabin, breath fogging in the cold, her arms wrapped around herself like they’re all she has left. She’s staring at the meat shed. Not moving. Just looking at it. Like she’s deciding whether it’s worth hiding in or if she should just keep walking and never stop.

When you step beside her, she doesn’t flinch.

She doesn’t look at you. Just mutters, low and even, “I can’t be in there with her.”

You nod, “You don’t have to be.”

Jackie turns toward the shed without another word and walks in like the wind’s pushing her toward it. You follow close behind, grabbing the door so it doesn’t slam shut on you both. It’s dark inside. Freezing. Your fingers are already starting to go numb. But none of that matters right now.

Jackie sinks to the floor near the back wall and pulls her knees up to her chest. Her whole body folds in on itself like she’s trying to disappear. You stand there for a second, unsure if she wants space or if she’s just trying not to break in front of someone. Then she speaks.

“She’s pregnant.”

It sounds like she doesn’t believe it, even though she’s the one who said it. You lower yourself to the ground, sitting a few feet away. Letting her have the silence if she wants it.

“With Jeff’s baby,” Jackie spits. “Of all people. My boyfriend. And she— she just kept it from me and lied. Like I wouldn’t find out. Like I’m some idiot.”

Her voice shakes on the last word.

“She said she didn’t want to tell me because she loved me. Like that makes it okay. Like it’s supposed to help.”

You stay quiet. Let her rant. She needs to say it out loud. Needs to rip it out of herself before it festers and starts eating her alive from the inside.

“I don’t even know who she is anymore,” she says. “I keep thinking about how she looked at me in there. All guilty and soft and pathetic. Like I’m supposed to feel bad for her. Like I did something wrong.”

You look at her. Her eyes are glassy now, but she’s doing that thing, clenching her jaw so tight she might chip a tooth, trying not to let anything fall. Jackie Taylor doesn’t cry in front of people, not unless she wants them to see it. And she doesn’t want you to. She doesn’t want to feel pitied.

But she looks like she’s seconds from breaking.

“I hate her,” she mutters. “But I don’t. And that’s what pisses me off the most. I know I’m gonna forgive her eventually. I always do. And that makes me feel like the stupidest person alive.”

You scoot closer. Not too fast. Just enough that your knee brushes against hers. “It doesn’t make you stupid.”

She scoffs. “Oh yeah? What does it make me?”

“Human. Kind.”

Jackie laughs, but it’s not her usual light-hearted laugh, the one that makes your heart feel like it’s dropped into your stomach. This one is bitter and dry.

“Right. That’s me. Jackie Taylor, a total sweetheart.”

You let the sarcasm roll off. She’s hurting too much to believe anything good about herself right now. You’re used to that, how mean she gets when she’s scared. How sharp she can be when she feels exposed.

But you’re not scared of her.

And maybe that’s why she lets you in. You don’t ask, you just do it. Wrap your arms around her shoulders, pulling her in with the slow kind of confidence that says ‘I’m not going anywhere’.

She stiffens. For half a second, you think she might shove you off.

But she doesn’t.

She sinks into it, slow and silent, like a tree collapsing onto the forest floor. She leans against your chest, arms still folded tight across her stomach, face turned into your shoulder like she’s ashamed of needing comfort.

You hold her tighter and tuck your chin against the crown of her head. Breathing her in.

“I don’t know who I am without her,” Jackie whispers after a long time. “I spent so much time being half of something. Best friends. Jeff and me. Everything was perfect and now it’s all just… gone.”

“You’re still you,” you murmur. “Even if she’s not next to you.”

Her voice shakes. “What if I don’t like who that is?”

You close your eyes for a second. The air is too cold to be comforting, but somehow you don’t feel it anymore. Not with her pressed against you. Not when you’re so focused on keeping her in one piece.

“I do,” you say quietly.

She doesn’t respond. Just curls in tighter, like she’s trying to make herself small enough to disappear into your jacket. Her breath hitches once, twice. You can feel it in your chest when she finally lets go.

No sobbing. No noise. Just quiet, shuddering breaths as she cries against you, trying not to let the tears fall, even though it’s too late. Her face is hot and wet through the sleeve of your shirt.

You don’t say anything else. Just rock her a little. Keep your arms around her Like you’re her only source of safety and warmth.

After a while, her breathing evens out. Her body stops trembling. But she doesn’t move away.

You shift so that you’re both leaning back against the wall, your coat half draped over her. It’s not warm, not really, but it’s enough to keep you both from freezing. She stays tucked into your side, legs tangled with yours, one arm still looped around your ribs.

It’s quiet in the meat shed. The wind whistling faintly outside. Somewhere far off, you think you hear a branch crack.

Neither of you say anything.

Eventually, Jackie falls asleep like that.

You feel the weight of her head get heavier on your chest, and her breathing gradually slows. You don’t move. You don’t sleep either, not really. Just drift with her, warm and still but present, keeping watch.

And maybe it’s stupid, but for the first time in days, your heartbeat doesn’t feel like it’s clawing its way through your chest. You’re still out here. Still stranded in the middle of nowhere, but Jackie’s with you. Jackie’s okay. And somehow, that makes everything feel bearable like you can survive as long as you’re together.

When the sky starts to lighten, you finally open your eyes.

The meat shed door is still shut tight, but the light filters in through the cracks, soft and cold.

You gently shift her off of you, and Jackie stirs, blinking blearily like she forgot where she was. Her face is puffy and tinted pink around her eyes. She yawns, wipes at her cheeks, then glances toward the door.

“Did it snow?” she asks hoarsely.

You stand and crack the door open.

The ground is covered in white.

Thick, fresh snow blankets everything, soft, silent, and untouched. The trees drip with frost.

You glance back at her and nod. “Yeah. A lot.”

She groans softly and slumps against the wall. “Great. Now we’re snowed in the meat shed. Just kill me.”

You smile a little and offer her your hand. “Come on. I’ll help you back.”

She hesitates. Then, slowly, she reaches out and takes it.

Her fingers are cold, chiller bone-deep, but they find yours, threading through on instinct. And when she squeezes, it’s not hard or desperate, just steady. Grateful even. Like she doesn’t know how to say thank you out loud, but hopes this is enough.