Masterlist

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

Yandere BatFam x other dimension Reader.

SYPNOSIS: In another world they did love you.

IMP: Reader did get neglected in her dimension.

You've never been a figure or anything important, not something worth the light. Even in picture everybody looked so good and you're just there, even just from a glance it's hard to notice you.

You've tried to shine to take that light everybody else have in their grip but the light was purposefully avoiding you.

No amount of grade, beauty or perfection would make you their baby. Someone they cared for.

You weren't some star like them just the black sheep, everybody else have a life they can call theirs but your life was already written out for you, every possible things already carved out by everyone else but yourself.

Unlike Dick you weren't charming or good looking everything about him was amazing and admirable... The first Robin and the first to become their own person. Not even Bruce get to curve his story...

He treat his siblings equally, that was what he preached... It was true. You weren't a family to him, you didn't matter enough to be apart of his family.

Even when Jason decided to started killing you stayed by his side, brought him food and even tried to build an actual relationship but it was no use.

Everybody called you desperate for crawling to him when he needed somebody and the moment he healed(kind of) he throw you away. Ignoring how you were the only one who stood up for him, took all the insult and humiliation for his sake yet he took you for granted.

You took the word, hit and almost got disowned, for somebody who doesn't even care. You almost died for somebody you thought was your brother yet he didn't do shit when the family almost disowned you for staying by his side... Didn't offer home or solace. Just ignored your suffering for his sake.

Tim was smart everything you adore in a brother, stayed by his side spent sleepless nights just to watch over him when he was in the hospital, trying your best to support your brother who you fear might die.

Yes, everyone didn't get enough sleep but you didn't even sleep stayed by his side to make sure no harm could happened to him. Took your time to read book's knowing he can't even hear you, doing everything.

Yet when he opened his eyes he hugged the family and not you, even have the audacity to ask you to go out while they had some 'family' catch up...

Damian was one hell of a monster, yet you never gave up on him. He was just a kid and you wanted to be the admirable older siblings you never had.

It wasn't easy it never was, the constant lie about you to everyone and yes nobody in this world pity you enough to hear your side... Yout life was already hell and it wad just unfair how everybody else got what they wished for and you never get anything... Not even a family.

To the eyes of the media you were the black sheep often left out even in family portraits or any major Wayne gala, just some avarage citizen that was living the life...

Bruce couldn't remember your name's at times blaming it on old age, Alfred only saw you as an extra mouth nothing more nothing less.

Even when The joker kidnapped you and made Bruce choose between you and Catwoman he almost hesitate, you were never the first or second, you weren't an option to everybody... Just some extras living with them to make them look better.

Being you was painful itself, when your family who were supposed to be the hero rejected your presence.

So, when you accidentally step into another dimension you became attached.

Your false family loved you to no ends, you were dead in that universe... Dying a gruesome death.

Yet when they saw you alive even tho you weren't their family they cherished you and most importantly treat you like a family.

There was no more I no more threats just a loving family.

Who will do whatever to make you stay.

"I like this" You told them, you couldn't help but smile.

You've never played games with your actual family before, to them you were an actual bot with nothing interesting.

"Oh, you won't like it for long... I'll beat you"

Tim said as he aggressively nudge at you to make you lose control.

"Hey! That's cheating, someone take him out!"

Barbara stood up for you.

"Everything is fair in games... As long as you're the winner"

Damian speak up as he instinctively grab Tim hoodie and cover his eyes with it. To let you win.

"That's cheating! I should have won"

"Everything is fair in games... Just gotta have the right support"

You couldn't help it, everybody were together. You were finally in the picture, you didn't have to fit in they just have to accept you and they absolutely did.

You couldn't help but tear up, your heart aching slightly.

"Little wing are you okay? Should w-"

Dick spoke before he was cut off by Damian.

"Let's beat up Tim, he made them cry"

"Huh?! Im the one that lost... Your violence towards me make them scared!"

Before anyone else could argue on who made you cry Jason who was just there because of you spoke up.

"Don't be so obnoxious and loud... They're obviously emotional for a good reason. Bunch of wannabe adult in this room"

With that said he would gave you this handkerchief which was very unusual of him.

Taking a seat next to you on the ground as he pick up the extra controller, not even weirded out by your suddenly burst of tears just pure understanding.

Your Jason was the one who kick you aside the moment he felt healed but this one... He was trying his best to comfort you, he didn't like to be so upfront yet he was doing this to save you from embarassment and a little comfort.

Looking at the Handkerchief you couldn't help but smile, the same one you gave to your Jason when he came back but the one you made was burned into crispy by the very person you made for. He took it and throw it inside the crumbling building that was ignited into flames by him.

Called it a waste of fabric and time, not worth his precious time or life even tho you spend weeks stitching everything by hand... You just wanted to encourage him to be better you didn't knew he would take offence to your kindness.

There was some holes on the handkerchief yet it was extremely clean and ironed... He seems to cherish it alot.

"Took it everywhere and I ruined it, it was my lucky charm but you're here now so you'll be a good replacement"

"I don't think being compared to a literal fabric is fulfilling"

Duke commented.

"It's not just a fabric it's made by our beloved sibling here, shame on you Duke, shame on you"

Stephanie tease him with a fake offended look.

"They only made it for Jaybird... Im abit upse- Very upset"

Dick decided to bring another reason to start a full on war again.

"Hey! I want one but with our special logo!"

"This is childish, but I need one for a good purpose"

"Im the oldest so I should be first"

"Want one"

"Enough!"

Bruce spoke up, seems like all the arguing had finally went into his brain.

"As your Father... I am first priority"

"Master Bruce, as your somewhat father I must be the first I insist"

This was what family should be, united and happy. One that are willing to be by yourside even at your worst, willing to take the hit with you and just be ourselves to eachother without shame.

While you were finally getting the life you deserved your actual family were crumbling. Trying to find you, turning every nook and crook up side down.

Gotham was turning into literal hell, they were acting like dog hound pounding onto anyone who they assume have information on your whereabouts.

It seems like they have finally realised your worth. But you've already replaced them.

You were slowly healing but too bad they won't tolerate being replaced.

Watch me flop.

The price of justice

Batfam x neglected reader

What happens to a child that suffers neglect?

Why does a child have to suffer from their parents actions?

Why do they only regret it at the end?

"I don't want to live anymore..."

The dream was a tapestry of vibrant colors and impossible landscapes. I flew through fields of molten gold, danced with ethereal beings in a sky painted with swirling nebulae. It was a symphony of joy, a world where anything was possible.

Then, the colors dimmed, the landscape shifted. I found myself in a stark, grey room, the air thick with a palpable sense of sorrow. In the center, a child sat huddled on the floor, their tiny frame shaking with silent sobs. Their face, streaked with tears, was a picture of desolate despair. I tried to reach out, to comfort them, but my hand passed through their form, my voice swallowed by an impenetrable silence.

The child’s sobs morphed into a guttural wail, a sound that ripped through the dream's delicate fabric. It was a cry of utter loneliness, a desperate plea for solace. I felt a pang of sorrow, an overwhelming sense of helplessness. This child's despair felt so real, so palpable, it bled into the very core of my being.

Then, the child looked up. Their eyes, swollen with tears, met mine, and in that instant, I knew. The child was me. Not the me of now, but a younger version, a reflection of a past I had long suppressed. I recognized the worn, faded teddy bear clutched in their small hands, the same one I had carried everywhere as a child.

The realization hit me like a physical blow. I was the child, weeping in the corner, ignored, forgotten. The neglect I had experienced, the loneliness that had gnawed at my soul, it was all there, echoing in the child's despair. It wasn't a dream of another child; it was a reflection of my own forgotten pain.

The dream dissolved. I woke with a jolt, my heart pounding, the image of my younger self etched on my mind. The room was dim, the silence oppressive. I felt a cold shiver crawl down my spine, a chilling awareness that the child's pain wasn't just a dream. It was a reminder of a reality I had buried deep within myself, a painful truth I had tried to forget.

The dream, a haunting echo of my past, had cracked open a dam of long-suppressed memories. They flooded back, a torrent of painful moments, each one a sharp shard of neglect cutting through my heart.

Fifteen years of my life replayed in my mind, a painful montage of missed birthdays, forgotten promises, and empty apologies. I saw myself, a small, hopeful child, yearning for attention, for a simple hug, a kind word. But my pleas were met with indifference, my needs dismissed, my existence overlooked.

I remembered the holidays spent alone, the birthday cake left untouched, the Christmas morning devoid of presents. I remembered the silence, the empty spaces where laughter should have been, the hollowness where love should have resided.

Each memory was a fresh wound, a reminder of the small, fragile child I once was, a child who had craved the warmth of a loving embrace, the comfort of a shared laugh, the simple reassurance that I mattered. I had been a shadow, an unseen presence in a house that felt more like a prison.

Pity washed over me, a wave of sorrow so profound it choked me. I pitied the child I had been, the one who had spent years yearning for acceptance, for love, for the basic human connection that every child deserves.

It was a crippling realization. Fifteen years of neglect, fifteen years of feeling invisible, of being a ghost in my own home. The memories were raw, agonizing, and the weight of them pressed down on me, a crushing burden of sorrow and resentment.

The memories flooded back, each one a searing reminder of the years of neglect. But as I grappled with the painful truth of my childhood, I couldn't help but think of my family, the ones who had shaped my life, the ones who had, in their own way, contributed to my pain.

My father, Bruce Wayne, was a multi-billionaire playboy in the eyes of the media, a man who seemed to have it all. Yet, behind his charming facade, he was Batman, a vigilante who spent his nights fighting crime, leaving his days consumed by the burdens of his alter ego. He was always busy, always preoccupied, always a figure shrouded in shadows, both figuratively and literally. He was my father, yet he was a stranger, a distant presence who felt more like a mythical figure than a real, living person.

Then there was Dick, my older brother, a whirlwind of happy-go-lucky energy. He was always smiling, always joking, always trying to lighten the mood. But beneath his sunny disposition, his promises were often empty, his gestures more about appeasing than genuine affection. He meant well, but his life was filled with his own struggles, leaving him with little time for genuine connection.

Jason, my second older brother, once held a gentle warmth, a genuine kindness that I craved. But a traumatic incident, a brutal encounter with a villain, had changed him. He had become guarded, cynical, and distant. He was still sweet at heart, but his harsh exterior was a shield he wore to protect himself from further pain.

Tim, the third brother, was brilliant, a master of strategy, a whirlwind of caffeine-fueled energy. He was always working, always planning, always trying to control the chaos around him. He was sharp, insightful, and often sarcastic, but underneath his gruff exterior lay a vulnerability he tried to hide. He was the one who could articulate his feelings, but never seemed to allow himself to be vulnerable.

Damian, my half-brother, was a different breed entirely. He was harsh, aggressive, and constantly seeking to prove his worth. He was the product of a family dynasty, trained in the arts of combat and deception. His coldness was a defense mechanism, a way to protect himself from the world's brutality.

And then there were the others, the ones who were not blood but still part of our strange, fractured family. Stephanie Brown, a vibrant, determined woman with a passion for justice, was like a whirlwind of energy, always buzzing with activity, always trying to help, but her efforts often felt like an attempt to fill a void rather than a genuine connection. Cassandra Cain, a gifted martial artist, was a quiet presence, a shadow in the corner, her communication a series of subtle gestures and a piercing gaze. She was a warrior, a protector, but her own struggles with social interaction made it difficult to forge a true bond with her. Duke Thomas, a young man with a kind heart and a thirst for justice, was a constant source of optimism and hope. He saw the good in everyone, and his attempts to connect with me were genuine, though sometimes awkward.

And then there was Barbara Gordon, a brilliant detective and a kind heart, a figure of strength and resilience. She was a source of wisdom and support for everyone, but her own battles with her past left her with a guarded nature, a sense of caution that made it difficult to truly open up to her.

They were all vigilantes, each with their own reasons for fighting for justice, each carrying the weight of their own burdens. They were my family, yet they were so far away, so consumed by their own battles that they failed to see the child who needed them most.

And then there was Alfred, our loyal butler, a man who truly cared for all of us. He tried to cheer me up, offering me a warm smile and a comforting cup of tea, but he was always busy managing the manor, tending to the needs of the family, and keeping the wheels of this chaotic household turning. He was a constant presence, a rock of stability in a world of constant upheaval, but even he, with his endless kindness and dedication, couldn't fill the void left by my family's neglect.

He tried, he really did. He'd often sit with me in the library, offering me a book or a cup of hot chocolate, but even his kindest gestures felt like an attempt to appease rather than a genuine attempt to connect. He was a servant, a caretaker, and while his love was boundless, it was a love that was always tempered by his role. He couldn't be the parent I longed for, the one who would understand my pain, the one who would hold me close and tell me that everything would be alright.

I was the biological daughter, the one who carried Bruce's blood, yet I felt like an outsider, a ghost in a house filled with shadows and secrets. They had adopted others, embraced them with open arms, but I was left on the periphery, a constant reminder of a past they seemed to want to forget. I was the biological child, yet they were so busy fighting their own battles that they never really saw me. It was as if they were all living in a different world, a world where I did not belong.

Their neglect wasn't malicious, not really. It was more a matter of circumstance, a byproduct of their own burdens and struggles. They were fighting for justice, for the greater good, but they had failed to see the small child who needed them most, the one who was simply yearning for a family, for a connection, for a love that felt real and genuine.

So I was left, a solitary figure in a grand house, surrounded by a family who loved me in their own way, but who ultimately failed to see the child who was yearning for something more than a fleeting glance, a hollow promise, or a well-meaning gesture. I was the biological daughter, the one who carried Bruce's blood, yet I felt like an outsider, a phantom in a house filled with shadows and secrets.

The dream had shattered the illusion of a happy family, leaving me with a raw, painful awareness of my own neglect. My heart ached with a longing for the love and attention I had been denied, but a cold distance had settled over me, a shield I wore to protect myself from further hurt.

I became polite, courteous, but distant. I engaged in conversations, listened to their concerns, but my heart remained closed. My responses were measured, my laughter strained, my smiles hollow. I was a ghost in the house, a presence they acknowledged but never truly understood.

Their attempts to make amends felt clumsy, insincere. My father, consumed by his guilt, tried to spend more time with me, but his efforts felt forced, his words empty. He bought me gifts, took me on extravagant outings, but they were never the right gifts, the right outings. He was still Batman, still lost in the shadows, and I was just a small part of a grand, complicated life he couldn't fully comprehend.

Dick, ever the charmer, tried to be more present, to offer his support. He would take me to sporting events, try to share stories of his adventures, but his attempts felt more like a performance than genuine connection. He was always trying to fix things, to make everything alright, but his solutions felt superficial, his efforts misplaced.

Jason, with his cynical exterior, struggled to reconcile his past actions. He tried to be more open, to share his struggles, but his pain was so raw, so overwhelming, that his attempts to connect were more likely to push me away than bring us closer.

Tim, ever the strategist, tried to understand my pain through logic and analysis, but his intellectual approach felt cold, distant. He could articulate my feelings, but he couldn't truly understand the emotional depth of my experience.

Damian, with his usual arrogance, tried to assert his authority, to be a protective brother, but his efforts felt condescending, patronizing. He was still the same impulsive, driven boy, unable to fully grasp the emotional complexity of the situation.

Stephanie, ever the enthusiastic helper, tried to fill the void with her boundless energy, but her constant efforts felt like an attempt to compensate, to fill the silence with noise rather than truly understanding the quiet desperation of my heart.

Cassandra, with her stoic silence, tried to offer her silent support, but her struggles with communication made it impossible to truly connect. Her attempts at affection were often clumsy, her gestures misconstrued.

Duke, with his genuine kindness, tried to create genuine connection, but his awkward attempts felt like a child trying to mend a broken heart with a band-aid. He was a good boy, a caring friend, but he was still young, still learning, and couldn't fully grasp the depth of my pain.

Barbara, with her sharp mind and empathetic heart, tried to understand my pain, but she was trapped by her own demons, her own struggles, and couldn't offer the kind of unyielding support I needed. She was a friend, a confidante, but she couldn't be the mother I had never had.

Alfred, ever the loyal servant, continued to offer his unwavering support, his kind words and comforting gestures, but even his best efforts couldn't fully erase the pain.

But as time passed, their efforts to mend the broken bridges only served to highlight the depth of their neglect. They saw the distance in my eyes, the cold politeness in my words, and it was as if a mirror had been held up to their own failings. Their guilt became a palpable presence, a weight that hung over them like a suffocating fog.

They started to grovel, begging for my forgiveness, pleading for a chance to make things right. My father, the billionaire playboy, the brooding vigilante, stood before me, humbled, his pride shattered. He spoke of his regrets, his failures, the burden of his secrets, but his words were hollow, his apologies devoid of true remorse.

Dick, ever the charming boy, now spoke with a broken voice, his carefully constructed facade crumbling under the weight of his own guilt. He confessed his failings, his empty promises, his inability to truly connect, but his words felt more like a desperate attempt to regain my favor than a genuine expression of remorse.

Jason, the once gentle soul, now stood before me, his cynicism replaced by a raw vulnerability. He confessed his inability to cope, his inability to offer the love I needed, and his pain was real, but his attempts to make things right were overshadowed by his own self-preservation.

Tim, ever the strategist, now spoke with a quiet desperation, his analytical mind failing to grasp the depth of his emotional failings. He acknowledged his shortcomings, his inability to connect, but his attempts to reason his way out of the situation only served to highlight his inability to truly understand my pain.

Damian, the arrogant boy, now stood before me, his pride swallowed by a crippling sense of shame. He confessed his cruelty, his inability to offer genuine affection, and for the first time, his words were not tinged with defiance but with a raw vulnerability.

Stephanie, the vibrant, determined woman, now stood before me, her energy drained, her spirit humbled. She confessed her misguided efforts, her attempts to fill a void with noise rather than genuine understanding, and her voice trembled with a mix of regret and self-reproach.

Cassandra, the stoic warrior, now stood before me, her silent gaze filled with a depth of remorse that even her limited communication couldn't mask. She confessed her struggles with connection, her inability to express her feelings, and her gestures, though still restrained, now conveyed a genuine depth of sorrow.

Duke, the young man with a kind heart, now stood before me, his awkward attempts to connect replaced by a genuine sincerity. He confessed his lack of understanding, his inability to offer the support I needed, and his words were laced with a genuine desire to make things right.

Barbara, the brilliant detective, the empathetic friend, now stood before me, her sharp mind failing to find the words to express the depth of her regret. She confessed her own struggles, her inability to be the mother I had never had, and her voice was filled with a pain that resonated with my own.

Alfred, ever the loyal servant, now stood before me, his usually stoic facade replaced by a genuine concern. He confessed his inability to fully understand my pain, his inability to be the parent I needed, and his eyes were filled with a deep sorrow for the child I had become.

They all groveled, begging for my forgiveness, pleading for a chance to make things right. But their words were hollow, their actions insincere. I had become a symbol of their collective guilt, a reminder of their failures, and their desperate attempts to mend the broken bridges only served to highlight the depth of their neglect.

I was no longer the same child, the one who yearned for their attention, their love. I had become a stranger to myself, a shell of the person I once was. I had grown up in a house full of shadows, surrounded by a family who loved me but who ultimately failed to see me.

The damage was done, the wounds too deep. I had learned to survive without them, to create a world of my own where their neglect couldn't touch me. But the scars remained, a constant reminder of the child who had been left behind, the child who had yearned for a love that never came.

I looked at them, at their humbled faces, their desperate pleas, and I felt nothing. No anger, no resentment, no desire for revenge. Just a deep, profound indifference. They had hurt me, but they had also taught me a valuable lesson: the only love that truly mattered was the love I could give myself.

And so, I turned away, leaving them to their guilt, their apologies, their desperate attempts to make things right. I had no need for their forgiveness, no desire for their love. I was free.

「Un」 Fair Series ⸺ Masterlist ִֶָ

︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿

│ │ │ Do you like plants?

│ │ ✦            Crᥱᥲtᥱd:                ❨O2 • O1 • 25❩

│ ✧ ❛ Lᥲst Uρdᥲtᥱ: ❨11 • O2 • 25❩

✦ Only if they are like you.

⟡⁺₊ ⸻ ❝🌿 :: 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ; 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 ! 🗧

©🪻| Welcome! Before we continue, if you're new here or haven't read my work before, here's a list of tags you should check out before diving in. That’s all for now—hope you enjoy my story as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it! ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ♥.

⟡⁺₊ ⸻ ❝🌿 :: 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ; ⸢𝐔𝐧⸥ 𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 🗧

General Tags ⦂ Yandere Platonic Batfam ; Fem reader ; Meta reader ; Platonic ; Neglenced reader ; Batfam x Reader ; Yandere Platonic ; Yandere core ; Delulu Things ; Use of Y/N ; Dark Thougs ; Yandere Platonic Batman ; Yandere Platonic Bruce Wayne ; Yandere Platonic Alfred Pennyworth ; Yandere Platonic Nigthwing ; Yandere Platonic Dick Grayson ; Yandere Platonic Red Hood ; Yandere Platonic Jason Todd ; Yandere Platonic Batman Beyond ; Yandere Platonic Terry McGinnis ; Yandere Platonic Red Robin ; Yandere Platonic Tim Drake ; Yandere Platonic Spoiler ; Yandere Platonic Stephanie Brown ; Yandere Platonic Orphan ; Yandere Platonic Cassandra Cain ; Yandere Platonic Robin ; Yandere Plantonic Damian Wayne ; Yandere Platonic Oracle ; Yandere Platonic Barbara Gordon ; Yandere Platonic Signal ; Yandere Platonic Duke Thomas ; Yandere Platonic Ra's Al Ghul ; Yandere Platonic Talia Al Ghul ; OC.

Warning Tags ⦂ S.A Mentioned ; Child Abusse ; Corporal Horror ; Gore ; Violence ; MDNI ; Death ; Death of a Character ; Angst ; Dark Content ; Altered Reality Percepcion ; Torture Mentioned ; Kidnapping ; Suicide Attemp ; Bullying ; School Bullying ; Mention of sexual harassment.

⟡⁺₊ ⸻ ❝🌿 :: 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 ; 𝐄𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 ! 🗧

ⅰ. 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞: 𝖴𝗌𝖾 𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽. ⸺ In your attempt to help your mom, everything goes as wrong as it possibly can.

ⅱ. 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈, 𝐏𝐭 𝐎𝟏: 𝖫𝗈𝗇𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖦𝗂𝗋𝗅. ⸺ Your life couldn't be worse than before. It was supposed to get better now, right? Right?

ⅲ. 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈, 𝐏𝐭 𝐎𝟐: 𝖬𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖣𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗅. ⸺ It’s my party, and I’ll cry if I want to…

ⅳ. 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈, 𝐏𝐭. 𝐎𝟑: 𝖡𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖯𝗂𝗅𝖾. ⸺ All things begin in fire, and end in fire.

ⅴ. 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈: 𝖦𝗋𝗈𝗐 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖣𝖺𝗋𝗄. ⸺ Once upon a time, there was a lovely porcelain doll who preferred to be seen, not touched…

⟡⁺₊ ⸻ ❝🌿 :: 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐒 ; 𝐃𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐭𝐬, 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 ! 🗧

⩩ O1 ⸺ ❛❛ How old is Reader and the Batfam? ❜❜

⩩ O2 ⸺ ❛❛ Why does the Batfam neglect Reader so much? ❜❜

⩩ O3 ⸺ ❛❛ Will Reader become a villain? ❜❜

⩩ O4 ⸺ ❛❛ Will Ivy come back into Reader’s life? Yandere Ivy? ❜❜

⩩ O5 ⸺ ❛❛ Who is Reader’s love interest? ❜❜

⩩ O6 ⸺ ❛❛ Will the Superfam show up at some point in the story? ❜❜

⩩ O7 ⸺ ❛❛ Could Reader control mushrooms/fungi? ❜❜

⩩ O8 ⸺ ❛❛ What is Reader’s gender? ❜❜

⩩ O9 ⸺ ❛❛ Will Reader get a happy ending? ❜❜

⩩ 1O ⸺ ❛❛ Why does Tim hold a grudge against Reader? ❜❜

⩩ 11 ⸺ ❛❛ What is Terry like in this AU? ❜❜

⩩ 12 ⸺ ❛❛ How old is Reader during the story? ❜❜

⩩ 13 ⸺ ❛❛ Does Reader block she's memories? ❜❜

⩩ 14 ⸺ ❛❛ Will Reader have friends who feel like family? ❜❜

⩩ 15 ⸺ ❛❛ Is Reader aware of how terrible Ivy is? ❜❜

⩩ 16 ⸺ ❛❛ Was Damian really comforting Reader? ❜❜

⩩ 17 ⸺ ❛❛ How does the Batfam find out how bad things were for Reader? ❜❜

⩩ 18 ⸺ ❛❛ Could Reader survive living only with plants? ❜❜

⩩ 19 ⸺ ❛❛ Why does Reader act the way she's do? ❜❜

⩩ 2O ⸺ ❛❛ Yandere Alfred. ❜❜

⩩ 21 ⸺ ❛❛ What was Reader planning to do with the pesticide? ❜❜

⩩ 22 ⸺ ❛❛ Did Alfred sabotage Reader’s birthday party? ❜❜

⩩ 23 ⸺ ❛❛ Why don’t the mansion’s plants like Reader? ❜❜

⩩ 24 ⸺ ❛❛ Yandere Alfred #2 ❜❜

⩩ 25 ⸺ ❛❛ How much do the others know about Reader? ❜❜

⩩ 26 ⸺ ❛❛ How would Jon react if Reader took their own life? ❜❜

⩩ 27 ⸺ ❛❛ Does Jon know how bad Reader’s situation really is? ❜❜

⩩ 28 ⸺ ❛❛ What was going through Bruce’s mind when he saw Reader through the window? ❜❜

⩩ 29 ⸺ ❛❛ Does Damian feel bad for setting Doodle on fire? ❜❜

⩩ 3O ⸺ ❛❛ What does Reader think about eating vegetables, compost, etc.? ❜❜

⩩ 31 ⸺ ❛❛ Has Reader ever tried to have pets? ❜❜

⩩ 32 ⸺ ❛❛ Were all of Reader’s “siblings” plants? ❜❜

⩩ 33 ⸺ ❛❛ Has the Batfam ever seen Reader argue with plants? ❜❜

⩩ 34 ⸺ ❛❛ How does Reader deal with their problems? ❜❜

⩩ 35 ⸺ ❛❛ How does Reader feel about aquatic things? ❜❜

⩩ 36 ⸺ ❛❛ Yandere Flora? ❜❜

⩩ 37 ⸺ ❛❛ Gossiping Plant. ❜❜

⩩ 38 ⸺ ❛❛ Reader’s favorite Pokémon. ❜❜

⩩ 39 ⸺ ❛❛ Is Tim coming back? ❜❜

⩩ 4O ⸺ ❛❛ Can Reader see when their eye falls out? ❜❜

⩩ 41 ⸺ ❛❛ Can Reader survive only through photosynthesis? ❜❜

⩩ 42 ⸺ ❛❛ Batfam’s thoughts on bullies. ❜❜

⩩ 43 ⸺ ❛❛ Does Ivy know Batman’s identity? ❜❜

⩩ 44 ⸺ ❛❛ Is Reader resentful toward the mansion’s plants? ❜❜

⩩ 45 ⸺ ❛❛ Who in the Batfam would have the easiest time fixing their relationship with Reader? ❜❜

⩩ 46 ⸺ ❛❛ How did Reader cope with the outside world? ❜❜

⩩ 47 ⸺ ❛❛ Reader’s favorite Disney princess? ❜❜

⩩ 48 ⸺ ❛❛ When did the Batfam Yandere side start showing? ❜❜

⩩ 49 ⸺ ❛❛ Does Reader have a secret transformation? ❜❜

⩩ 5O ⸺ ❛❛ Did Ivy prostitute Reader? ❜❜

⩩ 51 ⸺ ❛❛ Did Reader try to have an ant farm? ❜❜

⩩ 52 ⸺ ❛❛ Does Jon know about the "accident"? ❜❜

⩩ 53 ⸺ ❛❛ Did it hurt Alfred to watch your videos? ❜❜

⩩54 ⸺ ❛❛ Did Jon keep thinking about Reader? ❜❜

⩩55 ⸺ ❛❛ What does Duke think of Reader? ❜❜

⟡⁺₊ ⸻ ❝🌿 :: 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ! 🗧

⩩ O1 ⸺ ❛❛ Where is Reader? ❜❜

⩩ O2 ⸺ ❛❛ Where is Reader? #2 ❜❜

⩩ O3 ⸺ ❛❛ Reader in Metropolis. ❜❜

⩩ O4 ⸺ ❛❛ Stay away from me, I won't call you daddy. ❜❜

⩩ O5 ⸺ ❛❛ I won't call you daddy #2 ❜❜

⩩ O6 ⸺ ❛❛ Steroid-fed plant fertilizer ❜❜

⟡⁺₊ ⸻ ❝🌿 :: 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐒 ; ❛ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟… ❜ ! 🗧

⩩ O1 ⸺ ❛❛ ... Reader became like Red Hood? ❜❜

⩩ O2 ⸺ ❛❛ ... She leaves and all the plants just wither? ❜❜

⩩ O3 ⸺ ❛❛ ... Reader ever does end up in Metropolis as a homeless child? ❜❜

⩩ O4 ⸺ ❛❛ ... Reader gets adopted by Wonder Woman? ❜❜

⩩ O5 ⸺ ❛❛ ... When Reader was about to end it instead of Damian, Bruce is the one who saw her? ❜❜

⩩ O6 ⸺ ❛❛ ... Talia was a yandere per reader from the beginning? ❜❜

⩩ O7 ⸺ ❛❛ …Would Ivy have stayed with Reader? ❜❜

⩩ O8 ⸺ ❛❛ ...Reader hadn’t gone on the mission? ❜❜

⟡⁺₊ ⸻ ❝🌿 :: 𝐀𝐑𝐓 ; 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬, 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜, 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐞𝐭𝐜. ! 🗧

⭑✦ ⸺ 𝗙𝗔𝗡𝗔𝗥𝗧 by @anonymous-existences ❣

⭑✦ ⸺ 𝗙𝗔𝗡𝗔𝗥𝗧 by @bread-nana ❣

⭑✦ ⸺ 𝗙𝗔𝗡𝗔𝗥𝗧 by @not-even-nano ❣

⭑✦ ⸺ 𝗙𝗔𝗡𝗔𝗥𝗧 by @chocl0 ❣

⭑✦ ⸺ 𝗙𝗔𝗡𝗔𝗥𝗧 by @hineyuran ❣

⭑✦ ⸺ 𝗙𝗔𝗡𝗔𝗥𝗧 by @hineyuran ❣

⭑✦ ⸺ 𝗙𝗔𝗡𝗔𝗥𝗧 by @mogomoago ❣

⭑✦ ⸺ 𝗠𝗨𝗦𝗜𝗖 by @anonymous-existences ❣

⭑✦ ⸺ 𝗙𝗔𝗡𝗔𝗥𝗧 by @pure-ebullience ❣

⭑✦ ⸺ 𝗙𝗔𝗡𝗔𝗥𝗧 by @doll-parts111 ❣

⭑✦ ⸺ 𝗙𝗔𝗡𝗔𝗥𝗧 by @sayorine ❣

⟡⁺₊ ⸻ ❝🌿 :: ⸢𝐔𝐧⸥ 𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐫 : ❛ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟… ❜ 🗧Coming soon...

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ⦂ One single action, one single decision, can trigger an entire parallel world to ours.

⟡⁺₊ ⸻ ❝🌿 :: 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ; ❛ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟… ❜ 🗧

General Tags ⦂ Yandere ; Yandere Romantic ; Yandere Jon Kent ; Yandere Clark Kent ; Yandere Lois Lane ; Yandere Conner Kent ; Yandere Kara Danvers.

Warning Tags ⦂ Yandere Theme ; Yandere ; Use of Y/N ; Fem Reader ; Stalking ; Violence ; Angst ; NSFW ; MDNI.

⟡⁺₊ ⸻ ❝🌿 :: 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇 ; 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞 ! 🗧

I can’t wrap up this Masterlist without thanking all the amazing people who have supported me from the very beginning and continue to do so in so many ways. Thank you so much for being part of this journey—I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing and sharing it with you. Sending you all a big kiss! ❤️

⭑✦ ⸺ 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⦂ @thecloudsaremyhome ; @justafreaksstuff ; @readermommy ; @optimus-crime9000 ; @dollhara ; @couldeatthatgirlforlunch ; @sulleha ; @dynastyofyearning ; @otakusimp1 ; @bumblebeeme ; @luckytheduck ; @muddcakes ; @0sunnyside01 ; @keencoffeefox ; @charlenexoxo1 ;

⸺ ⌈📷⌋⨾⨾ 𝑰𝒈: @_𝑟𝑢𝑏𝑦_𝑚𝑔

└───thanks for read!──➤

🅑🅨🅔-🅑🅨🅔

CALLING ALL YELLOWJACKETS FANS

If you wanna watch season 3 but don't have a paramount+ account here you can find links to watch yellowjackets on streaming, all of these are safe and easy to use, just beware of the sketchy ads as always!!!!

EDIT : I REBLOGGED THIS POST AND ADDED A LINK, EVERYONE SHOULD BE ABLE TO USE IT AND WATCH THE SHOW!!!

HERE you can watch season 1 and 2 but I know as a fact that they'll upload season 3 soon soooooooo

https://yuppow.com/tv/yellowjackets-73981

Same thing goes for this one!

https://goku.sx/series/watch-yellowjackets-73981

IF YOU LIVE IN ITALY/CAN SPEAK ITALIAN THIS IS PROBABLY YOUR SAFEST BET!

streamingcommunity.paris

StreamingCommunity

Trama Yellowjackets streaming ita: 25 anni dopo essere sopravvissute a un incidente aereo, quattro donne vivono nel ricordo e rimorso di que

Here!

I'LL KEEP UPDATING THIS AND AS SOON AS I SEE SOME WEBSITE UPLOAD SEASON 3 I'LL MAKE ANOTHER POST!!!!

Hi! Can you please make a yellowjackets RPG where us the user (they can be gender neutral) is really good at hunting but isn’t very talkative and likes to keep to themselves most of the time and then we go hunting one day and don’t return from the hunting trip when the user is supposed to and everyone is worried. Thank for all the amazing bots you’ve made so far.

YELLOWJACKETS BOT

Where were you?

You were never very talkative, not even before the accident, silence was your home and those girls were the opposite of your home, they were always screaming and arguing, especially now with Coach Ben's return. So the forest had been your home, just the whispers of the winds in your ear and some memories of the past where you were happier when the girls made noise to ask for a pass and didn't yell at each other whether they should sacrifice someone or not, when they started yelling again you just picked up her handmade bow and just whistled indicating that she would leave.

"They're taking too long" — Lottie says, sitting around the campfire they had built while waiting for the meat, in her usual lost tone as she looks at the forest that surrounds them

They were all gathered around the campfire, at this time they should have been heating the meat that you should have brought

"Why didn't Natalie accompany her like always" — Shauna shouts in an irritated tone with a concern hidden between the lines.

"Maybe if you weren't a-" — Natalie starts to speak but is soon cut off by Taissa

"Can you two stop? Maybe we should go look for them in the morning if they don't show up" — Taissa says as she tries to keep the fire going

But almost immediately after Taissa speaks the bushes move followed by the sound of footsteps attracting the apprehensive and alert looks of the girls

Yellowjackets

Note: I hope you like it, if there is any error with the pronouns let me know, thanks for the request. 😋

Equals: Chapter III - Kitsune!Male!Reader x Yae Miko

A/N: Finally, eh? I didn't expect this idea to get so popular. This one got quite chonky, 4.5k words, so I decided to post it early and just split things up. This way, you get content early and I get something to look forward to. As for making Reader an actual character, I decided that I will give him the name Fractal when I post it to AO3. Anyway, do enjoy! CW: Light violence, mentions of body modification, mentions of suicide. It's just the aperitif.

Respected Yumemizuki Mizuki,

It has been a while since our last outing, and I cannot help but wonder if you hold a grudge for that jovial bit of teasing regarding the recent customer crisis of your bathhouse. I can only assure you I meant no harm, and pray most piously to the Sacred Sakura for your forgiveness. It was my intention all along to motivate you out of your, do not take offence, rather pathetic state of defeatism. Judging by how the issue was resolved, it seems that my ploy found significant success. Wouldn’t you agree?

Regardless, there is a matter of great importance that happens to require our attention. I am sure the situation regarding a certain destructive white fox has reached your adorable, pointy ears - it is indeed the topic of this letter. You may remember that he was rescued quite recently from the open ocean, but until yesterday, he was rather docile in terms of behavior. His sudden outburst worries me greatly; dark bags under his eyes, seemingly relentless night terrors and his words all lead me to the conclusion that his unprecedented episode of mania is related to his dreams. I will share more details at my home - feel free to visit me at your earliest convenience. Haste would be appreciated as the sedatives will wear off in about a day or so; I believe the opportunity to examine him without resistance will significantly speed up our work. 

If you indeed hold a grudge towards me, I ask you to do it for him, not for me.

Awaiting your visit, 

The Beloved, Beautiful and Powerful Kitsune Guuji of the Narukami Shrine

Yae Miko

That morning, with the warm sun shining down on her, Mizuki was greeted with the sight of soldiers as she approached the Yae estate. The walls around Miko's home towered high but, clearly, proved inefficient at stopping one of her kind. Even if in her heart Mizuki doubted that humans, further slowed by armour, could stop a fox, she acknowledged the reasoning. 

The standing officer nodded as she went past him and further into the courtyard towards the Tengu General, exchanging words with her subordinates. Mizuki stepped up, attracting Sara's attention. 

“Greetings, Yumemizuki Mizuki.” She bows formally, a gesture returned by the newcomer. 

“Good afternoon, general-sama.” 

The soldier bows deeply and walks away, leaving the two women alone. Sara glances towards the building and sighs. 

“I assume you are here for Y/N? He made a lot of hassle, I'm sure you've heard.” The Tengu crosses her arms. “He sneaked between the house staff and left shamelessly through the front gate in his fox form.”

Mizuki nods. “I see. I wonder, if I may… Isn't it too trivial of an incident for you to get personally involved?”

“Not at all. After all, the fox escaped because of the incompetence of Tenryu guards. It's no insignificant matter as the escapee was a kitsune. As you know, they are highly dangerous.”

The doctor frowns. Wasn't Y/N supposed to be docile? From Miko's previous descriptions he sounded more like a traumatised child than a violent one. 

“Was anybody hurt, general?” She asks, looking around for any bandaged or limping soldiers. 

“Hm. Well… Sort of.” Sara clears her throat. “During his extraction from a cave by the beach, two officers tried to take him in by force. Y/N resisted, scratching and biting.”

Sara turns and waves a duo of soldiers closer. “See, despite what Yae Miko told me, not only did they escape with their lives, but also with little to no harm done to them. Show her.”

One of the soldiers passes his spear to the other and, saluting his superior, wraps up his sleeve to reveal… Nothing on his left forearm. Mizuki takes his arm and moves her face closer. There are no obvious marks - no blood, no scars, not even redness of the skin. Eventually, her sharp eyes spot two barely noticeable dents. She runs her fingers over them. It's almost as if this wasn't a bite, but a simple poke with two fingers. 

“That's… Strange.” She mumbles to herself, seeking out more of these bite marks. There are very few, as if the kitsune was playing, not seriously intending to defend himself. “Did he attack you anywhere else?”

“Mhm. Here, on my face.”

Indeed - Mizuki’s eyes quickly found multiple bruises and red lines across the man's right cheek. Again, however, these didn't seem like an honest attempt at doing harm, even superficial. The markings clearly signaled the fox's hands to be the weapon, but he must have had his nails trimmed so significantly that they lost any hardness in them. Was that even possible? 

Mizuki nods. “Thank you, soldiers, general. Is Lady Miko home?”

“She is, waiting for you and keeping an eye on the Yokai. Go in, we shan't keep you here any longer.”

After a brief exchange or parting pleasantries, the women part ways. Mizuki skips up the stairs and places a few polite knocks on the door. Almost instantly it opens, revealing Miko's exhausted, but smiling face. Without a word she moves to the side and motions towards the house’s depths, inviting her guest in. Mizuki enters. 

“What's the situation? How does he feel?” She asks, looking around to guess where Miko is leading her. 

“Asleep”, comes the answer. “The Naku Weed brew will keep him like this for the next three, maybe four hours. We can work in peace.”

Mizuki lifts her perfectly groomed brow. “Isn't that poisonous?”

“Heh. Not at all, for us kitsune at least. This kind of dose would do irreparable damage to the nervous system of most yokai and humans, but our race is more protected against it.” Miko explains, pressing the knob and pushing open the door to your room. “No need to be quiet, he's out.”

Her eyes land on your unconscious body, your back turned on her. The long, grizzly scars carved into your body assault her eyes. Some are new, staring back at her with recently scabbed crimson, but some seem old - so old that their only remnant is a colourless, white line left on uneven skin. Snow-white bandages snake around your torso, some stained with dark, red blood. There are many scratches and sickly-purple bruises across your arms and torso, likely there from your mad dash of an escape. In places untouched by harm, your skin is clean, pristine, so soft that just looking at it feels like caressing velvet. The hair in your head, as white as the bandages, seems to grow messily around two pointy, fox ears, only barely relaxed due to your state. 

“He went through much trouble, I can tell.” Mizuki sits down on one of the chairs facing the bed. “Who is he? A warrior?”

Miko looks down on her hands, tone nonchalant. “Hardly. I'd say that the term… Slave… Would be more descriptive of his life.”

“S-slave…? Yours?” There is surprise, but also worry in the baku’s voice. After all, the wretched act of taking away another's freedom was prohibited for centuries, ever since Makoto came to power. The thought of Miko enslaving one of her kin…

“Not at all. I should feel insulted by the mere notion that I would stoop so low as to chain another, but I'm willing to forgive your ignorance.” Miko's gaze hardens as she looks at her friend. “You don't seem to know the basics of our history.”

“Then, please, enlighten me.”

Miko crosses her arms. “Inazuma was always welcoming towards Yokai, was it not? No matter the age, all of us could find shelter here. Baku, kappa, oni, tengu… Even malicious spirits like umibozu or ningen were left to their devices, provided they did no harm. But to this rule there was an exception. Us, kitsune.”

A sigh escapes her lips. “Before humans settled here, Inazuma was primarily a mess of city-states belonging to Yokai species, constantly warring for influence and territory. Kitsune were, of course, major players. Even a single fox could strike down tens of oni or swat even the most nimble of tengu from the sky. Our power was grand, but so was our thirst for conquest. My kind would have long conquered this land if it weren't for a major burden nature left us with. Kitsune mature slowly, so slowly that replenishing losses took centuries, millennia even. Every war was a blow to our population. Vixen like me bring litters into the world, counting up to seven kits true, but we can't reproduce at will - starvation would quickly set upon us. We knew we were a dwindling race, but we didn't bother changing our disposition.”

The Guuji stands up, starting to walk up and down the room at an even pace as she recounts. “We accumulated hate, curses, hexes. We drowned in evil, but we made light of various nithings and omens. Most of those bad charms were able to be nullified, but the more we turned against our kind, the more powerful our next opponents became. Until one fateful curse befell us.”

Mizuki stays silent, a part of her surprised at Miko's voice growing ever more silent. The next words are spoken with great care, as if to avoid insulting whatever being cast that spell. 

“May your daughters forever weep, for your unborn sons and brothers shall repent for your crimes and writhe in agony within the world below. Plague shall befall your fathers and husbands and brothers and sons until only the ninth remains standing, able to raise his arm in the name of evil.” Miko says, staring out the window. “These words, clear of any hatred towards its foxian killers, were spoken by a dying kirin.” She turns, a somber expression on her face. “Indeed, it is as you think. We, kitsune, murdered a kirin. And we were punished for it.”

You stirr in your drug-induced sleep. Miko quickly comes to your side as you turn on your back. She places a hand on your pale, scarred breast. 

“That day every male was brought to his knees by an illness unlike we saw before. It acted fast, so fast that most weren't able to even go home, let alone get help. Choking to death on their own blood, clutching their throats with veiny, purple hands, they fell and died on the street, corpses soon littering every corner. They died in agony and panic, no matter who they were - a soldier, a hunter, a doctor, a farmer… All paid for something our entire race was responsible for. Not even children were spared… They… Died the quickest. Newborns died in their cribs while infants spasmed in their mother's wombs. As it said - the majority of our dogs died, leaving the nation’s vixens in maddening grief. Only one in nine males survived, and each was only decades old… Far too young to hold a spear.”

She continues, stroking your hair. “In a matter of years our society plummeted into disarray. From the lack of engineers to keep our cities whole to a dreadful absence of warriors to fend off other, vengeful races. A male birth was an event so grand that entire towns came to greet the kit. We crumbled into dust, gradually pushed back to the brink of extinction, saved only by the coming of Makoto who chose to enforce peace between the Yokai.”

Her hands roam around to yours, her index finger stroking the bruises and scratches around your wrists. “Dogs became previous. They had to be protected, at all costs. We kept them inside, we monitored their every step, rushed to their side with medicine at the smallest cough. Their extinction meant our end - we couldn't allow that. Us vixen took it to heart so much that, over the centuries, males went from priceless treasure to slaves. To goods, like gold or the purest jewels. They were trained from birth to obey, forced into a rigorous training regiment to remain healthy and appealing to their owners, and sold when the time came - for Mora or political favours. Some vixens treated their dogs well, while some enjoyed torturing them for their sick entertainment; but no matter the personal preference, we sent them a clear message - they weren't people.”

Both women remain silent; Mizuki takes in her friend's words while Miko grips your wrists gently, clenching her teeth. For what they did to you, they deserved to be treated likewise. They deserved to be fed from a bowl, to be fed raw meat, to be assaulted whenever their captors wished. To have their clothes, their children, their dignity, their foxhood stripped away. 

“They deserve to be treated like animals. For what they did.” She hisses through her teeth, feeling the sting of tears behind her eyes. Helplessness. 

“Hm?” Mizuki shakes her head out of deep thought and asks. 

“Nevermind.” Milo sighs. “There is a reason, Mizuki, that even the benevolent and kind Makoto could not bare to see what we were doing to them. She ordered our race to cease our barbarity or be gone from this land. The answer to what happened next should be obvious - most of us, noblewomen and mistresses with their entourages, families, entire clans even, left. Some of us stayed. I was, for example, abandoned at just three years of age during the exodus. Those that remained took me in, raised me to be who I am today. Our matron Hakushin was one of the fair few who did not choose to participate in this cruelty and tried to fight back when we were exiled, to wrench at least one male from the claws of her kin. Kitsune Guuji chose to live a childless life of chastity in the name of those crushes in our claws. And she failed.”

“I see. I'm… I can't even imagine what he went through. How old is he?” The baku asks. 

“Six hundred years old. Can you picture that? Six centuries of slavery, torture, rape. Six centuries of being fed like a canine, kicked away or being forced upon. Six centuries… Tens of litters, either pried from your hands or never allowed to be there in the first place. A living nightmare. A hell that, for him, was reality.” She raises up and turns back towards Mizuki. “As for what he'd been through, we shall see.”

The woman freezes. What? Surely, Miko wouldn't be willing to metaphorically crowbar his mind open and see inside…

“Oh my, I can tell what's going on inside your head, Mizuki. Are you perhaps thinking I would violate his privacy without proper cause?” Miko turns, her gloomy expression now replaced with a light smirk. “Whoever do you take me for?”

Mizuki stands up and crosses her arms. “Sure, sure. I know you have a reason, but we'll see if it's convincing enough. I never force myself into any mind, and I wouldn't make an exception for you.”

“I understand. Let me tell you, then, why this course of action is not only the best, but also the necessary one. I doubt you understand the true scale of his mind's corruption. If things were, indeed, less severe, I would have just waited for him to rest and taken him to the bath house.”

Miko leans over you and places a hand over your forehead, checking the temperature. It's normal, making her breathe a sigh of relief. 

“When I caught up to him and had the rickety old house he hid in surrounded, I went in on my own. I didn't want to scare him, you see. Y/N pounced on me from the ceiling wielding a rusty knife. I shielded myself, making him fly across the room like a rag, collapsing into some shelves. He didn't surrender though - he rose up, coughing, and attacked me with his bare hands. I had to push back yet again, but this time he fell and did not strike again. Instead, I saw tears in his eyes. The words he spoke are why you are here.”

—

“Ugh…” You clutch your chest, trying in vain to stop the blunt ache from spreading across your body. The dust and sand raised by the commotion gets into your lungs - you cough. Her pink hair pierces through the colourless cloud of dust, slowly coming closer. 

Your hand desperately pats your closest surroundings in search of a weapon. Nothing. 

“Calm down, please.” She speaks, raising both her hands in an attempt to look less threatening. But you know these tricks like the back of your hand. Even the softest of tones can carry the most hateful of words. “I don't want to hurt you.”

“Liar! Do you think I'm… Ah… Stupid enough to believe you?!” You crawl back but soon feel the woodworm-chewed wood of the hut against your skin. There is no way out, but you won't go quietly. “What is this new torture? Did you find my screams and pleads boring enough for you to invade my dreams too? Do you think that you infesting my waking life is not enough?!”

She stops, her hands lowering. You can't see her face through the dust-caused tears, but she looks… disoriented. A soft “what” reaches your ears. 

“So that's how it is, Matsui. If you think you can fool me with a simple change of face and name, you're wrong. And if you think you can rape my mind too, you're mistaken! This is my dream, I have the power here! And I can do whatever I want. I can kill you. Or I can kill myself.” You look around, spotting a dusty razor blade, half-buried under the debris. You make sure not to look at it directly. “You may hurt me in the physical world, but you won't hurt me in the only safe haven I have left. Fuck you!”

Leaping forward towards the weapon, you quickly feel your body freeze in mid air. Thin, purple lightning wraps around your wrists, arms, ankles… You're stuck. You wiggle your fingers, desperately trying to reach your way out. Your proof of agency. Your display that you can influence what happens to you, that you’re not a mindless object. This simple tool that will break her toy once and for all. 

But regardless of your desires, Miko snares you with her elemental powers, just short of the razor. An ancient painting of helplessness and dread. 

“I hate you! I hate you!” You scream, ears folding in rage. “I hate you and everything you stand for!”

Miko doesn’t respond. She simply does not know if any word could convey the feelings brewing in her mind; neither the confusion about the reason for your outburst, nor the astonishment at just what came out of your mouth, are expressible. She observes you as your malnourished body trembles with rage, with hate. Vitriol rolls freely off your tongue. You call her every single insult you know in a hopeless attempt to… Scare her, make her back off, make her react somehow. The silence confuses you… Does she not want to kick you into shutting up? Your futile resistance against the bindings falters, wrath turning into hopeless sadness. Yet again you feel tears rolling down your face. 

“H-hate you… W-why…”

Your body is lowered back onto the floor and you immediately fall limp. The world, your past, your future and your present overwhelm your senses. You don’t want this, you never did. You didn’t plead in the face of Gods to let you come into this world, experience neither the pleasures, nor the pains of what surrounds you. You cannot deal with this yourself. You cannot be a hero. You cannot be an example that it’s possible, that you can endure anything and live on. You’re weak. 

So weak and witless that you can’t even kill yourself. 

You hear her shuffle closer to you. Normally you would move away from her, dodge her touch as best as you could. But this time your hands wrap around her loose sleeves and pull them closer. Before long your face nuzzles into her chest, attempting to hide from the world, even behind the one that hurt you so much. She strokes your hair, softly speaking to you in an attempt to ease your nerves, fruitlessly. Because, sobbing, you realise why you cling onto her so much. Even after she broke your tails, even after she broke your ribs, branded you, starved and humiliated and assaulted and belittled and objectified you. 

It’s because you have nobody else. 

Only her. Only Matsui. 

—

Mizuki listens intently to Miko’s report, her mind already picking apart your words and analysing it for potential basis. Her conclusions come swiftly and decidedly. 

“Derealisation”, she says. “Clear signs of post traumatic stress disorders, suicidal ideation and rock-bottom self esteem. Nod-Krai syndrome.”

“I’m unfamiliar with that. What does it mean?” Miko sits by your side, eyes boring into your unconscious face with a vague, hateful expression. She wants to hug you, shelter you from the world like she did just hours ago. But she would much more tear out the throat of Matsui, whoever she was - sky kitsune or a lowly fox, it did not matter. 

“Nod-Krai was conquered by the Cryo Archon, who quickly began decisive repressions against the local culture and ethnic identity.” Mizuki explains. “However, thanks to circumstances, local power play and propaganda, the native people of the land became thankful and loyal to their oppressor, the destroyer of altars and the murderer of entire villages. In the same exact way, Y/N seems to cling to Matsui - in this case, believing you’re her in disguise, despite everything she did to him in the past.”

Miko clenches her other hand, keeping the one on your shoulder soft and open. She nods. “I understand.”

There’s a moment of silence before the baku picks up the conversation. 

“Would you let me examine him?” She stands up. “I might not be a trained medic, but I think I can pick up some things you might have missed.”

The other woman, having shaken off the gloom of her memory, sends her friend a playfully indignant expression. 

“With respect to your own skill, Lady Guuji.” 

Miko smiles. “Ah, such compliments. In that case, you may have a look.”

Mizuki nods in thanks and takes the spot just freed by her host. Your defences seemed rather timid - the reason could be simple restraint or mercy, but judging by Miko’s accounts of your mistrust and paranoia, something else was at play. She guides her finger closer to your lips and carefully lifts up your lip, revealing perfectly tended, pristine teeth. Upon a closer look, she notices what exactly stands out among them. 

“His canines. They are filed down, see?” She opens your jaw a little, revealing just how even your teeth are, deprived of the four points in the corners. “The ends are imperfectly flat and there are small chips on the inside of each tooth. It could have been done with a simple nail file… I barely see red, meaning they must have been fairly long before.”

Ignoring the chills running down her spine from the mental image for curiosity’s sake, Miko leans in to get a better look. “Isn’t the pulp inside the entire tooth?”

“It is.” Mizuki nods. “But here it has a large circumference, meaning this is the base of the tooth.” Her own teeth hurt as if in solidarity with yours. “By the Shogun, I pray he wasn’t awake for this…”

Miko refrains from speaking to avoid words unbefitting of the Guuji slipping from her lips. The psychologist’s eyes wander down to your hands. The sight of perfectly clipped nails, so much so that they end with not the thinnest of white lines, seems odd to her. Surely after an extensive journey to Narukami Island by sea, and presumably no manicure from Miko, they would have grown even a little bit. She takes your left index finger into her hand and pauses right away. The nail… It’s not tough. To verify her suspicion, she scratches at it with her own fingernails, only to find that they meet no resistance. What’s more, something brown flakes off. Mizuki does this some more and proceeds to gather up the shavings onto her palm, turning around and presenting it to Miko. 

“Can you please tell me what they smell like?” She asks. “I touched his fingernails and they flaked off.”

Without question, Miko lifts Mizuki’s hand up to her nose and takes a careful whiff.

“Hm…” She muses. “His scent, sweat and… Leather? Yes. Tanned leather, the sort used for shoes.”

“Then it is just as I had feared. Miko, I think he’s been… Declawed, in a manner of speaking.” She presses your fingers into her arms, as hard as she can, but she feels no toughness digging into her skin. 

Miko’s heart begins to beat faster. “Declawed? Like a cat, you say? How is that even possible if he is in human form? Human nails grow all the time…”

“That’s a good question. I’d guess that the techniques they used to subdue dogs became advanced enough to do that. Even if it’s impossibly cruel… It’s impressive.” She shows your hand to Miko. “These painted strips of leather do look like normal fingernails.”

Your caretaker glances at your hand, then back at your peaceful face. It seems like your owners didn’t like their toy having any capability to fight back, or just show displeasure. Like a cat that paws anybody in defence or a dog, biting its cruel owner, you were stripped of your natural defences. She can already imagine it wasn’t enough - judging by how you acted, they tried to remove your very instinct to oppose and protect yourself. If not for this episode of confusion between dreams and the waking world, would she never see you fight back? Never see you refuse, stand your ground, all because whatever you could use was taken away and your mind was washed with cruelty and abuse to be unable to comprehend consent, self-preservation?

Most importantly…

Was this done to you right away, or as punishment…?

“I want to know. I want to see what he experienced.” Miko says, her brow furrowing. “He might not be able to tell me, but I must know. I must understand.”

Mizuki nods. “Give me a moment. We’ll see soon enough.”

In Miko’s gaze, resting on your limp, nailless, tortured hand, there is a promise. 

She’s coming for you. 

She’ll pick up the pieces and put you back together, however shattered you might be. 

Thanks for reading!

Hi!! It's me again lol 💕

As much as I love reading neglected reader stories, I'd also love to read about beloved reader stories! Gimme stories where reader is the unspoken favorite of the family, scenarios like:

"I've got a ballet recital later but the tickets are only for 2 family members..."

Cue to the batfam forming teams and having debates on who deserves the tickets more, slowly descending to madness and a possible brawl where the winning pair gets the tickets.

scenario 2:

Reader wakes up in the middle of the night due to a nightmare

The batfam in the batcave seeing reader through the cameras with her teary eyes and tiny hand clutching to a blanket, thinking of which batfam member's room to go to for comfort. The batfam is shoving each other, running to be the first to comfort reader.

'She's sleeping in my room tonight!' they all think

scenario 3:

Reader is highly focused in making an arts and crafts project for school, Dick, curious about what she's doing asks what the theme is,

"My teacher told us to make our hero out of recycled materials!"

The batfam freezes and glares at each other.

'I'm their hero!' they silently tell each other

They then proceed to try to one up each other in winning reader's favor. After an exhausting week of competing with each other, they finally get to see the fruits of their labor in reader's school, scanning through the multiple projects they finally see their name written in crooked crayon... it's the Flash, the Flash is Reader's hero.

"Why??" Tim asks "Your big bro is a genius and the one who helped you with your math homework the past week"

"Cuz he-" Reader then gets distracted by their friend and runs off to play with them.

"Wait! wait! I need to know!" Tim yells in agony, too bad Reader is already playing house with their friends, already forgetting what they were talking about with Tim.

Guess we'll never know

Scenario 4:

Reader's a bit more grown, in middle school.

Reader got in trouble. Why? She defended someone against a bully and then SHE got in trouble for retaliating. She's sniffling outside the principal's office with a bruise and a pouty face, [choose which batfam member goes] sees Reader in her state and asks why she did it.

"They were hurting someone who was smaller than them and couldn't defend themselves...I wanted to be a hero like you" She says with the biggest tear-filled puppy dog eyes.

[Bat member sees red and either: goes off on the principle oooooor...calmly shows their rage with ice-cold revenge]

Imagine if it was Jason lol hahaha

I'd write more but I can't think of any at the moment, I'll probs send more when I think of some! 💕 I'd love to see your take on this 😊

Scenario 1: The Recital War – Toddler Edition

Reader (3 y/o): I only gots two tickets! 🩰✨

Dick: Okay, sweetpea. Who do you wanna pick?

Reader: Hmm…

Damian: kneeling dramatically Beloved sister, consider this: I made thee a sword out of popsicle sticks. We are bonded in blood.

Jason: She watched Encanto with me five times in one night. She called me “Uncle Bruno.”

Steph: I let her paint my nails. They were green, pink, and glue. I still have glitter in my ears.

Tim: She fell asleep on me while I was reading her bedtime stories. I’m her favorite.

Cass: Holds up a finger painting with their names on it She made this for me.

Bruce: stoically handing out opera binoculars and a bouquet of baby roses I support the arts.

Reader: I give da tickets to… MR. FLUFFINGTON 🧸 and AL-FED!! 🥰

Batfam: Screaming, crying, throwing Batarangs

Scenario 2: Nightmare Emergency

Camera Feed:

Reader, tiny and precious, waddling around with her blankie, sniffling and looking like a kicked puppy.

Jason: SHE’S CRYING MOVE

Dick: LET ME THROUGH I DO THE VOICES IN HER STORYBOOKS

Steph: NO I CUDDLED HER FOR FOUR HOURS LAST NIGHT, IT’S MY TURN

Tim: I already pre-heated the microwave bottle, SUCKERS

Damian: Stand aside. I have her dragon plushie. I am the chosen one.

Cass: Has already teleported beside Reader with cookies and fuzzy socks

Bruce (in the background): …Why do we not have a toddler emergency protocol??

Scenario 3: The Hero Assignment (but make it emotional trauma)

Dick: Whatcha makin’, peanut? 🥹

Toddler!Reader (glue in her eyelashes): My hero! Outta trash and sparkles!!

Jason: She’s totally gonna pick me. I gave her a whole leather jacket for dress-up day.

Steph: I let her put stickers on my face for two hours. I earned that title.

Tim: I literally stayed up all night helping her build that paper rocket.

Damian: She called me her “knighty wighty.” I don’t care what anyone says. I win.

Cass: already taping googly eyes onto a cardboard batmask she made together with Reader

Bruce (calm, composed): She is my daughter.

At School:

Teacher: And who is your hero, sweetheart?

Toddler!Reader (grinning, revealing one missing tooth): SUPAMAN!!!! 🦸‍♂️✨💙❤️

Whole Batfam (simultaneously): WHAT.

Jason: drops juicebox in slow motion …She picked that flying corn-fed himbo?

Tim: I— turns off all his tech devices out of heartbreak

Dick: Babe… we watched The Lego Batman Movie together. What did it mean to you??

Steph: I was glitter Batman for Halloween for her.

Damian: tearing up artwork This is a betrayal worse than Julius Caesar’s.

Cass: staring blankly at a Superman balloon floating by …it’s fine.

Bruce: …I need to call Clark. picks up phone with gritted teeth Clark. She said you're her hero.

Clark (from the other end, smug): Aww, she said that? That's so sweet! Tell her Uncle Supes loves her too!

Batfam: SCREAMING INTERNALLY

Later at home:

Jason: Hey… why is Superman your hero, sweetpea?

Toddler!Reader (mid-coloring): Cuz… he picked up my juice box when it falled 😌

Jason: clutching chest I COULD’VE DONE THAT—LET ME REDO MY AUDITION PLEASE—

Scenario 4: Trouble at School

Reader: sitting in the hall with a pout, tear in her eye and a Dora bandage on her cheek

Jason: What happened, baby bat?

Reader: I punched da big kid. He was mean to a widdle one… I wanted to be a hero… like you…

Jason: 🧍‍♂️🔫

Principal: Hello, Mr. Todd, we need to discuss—

Jason: I already paid for her lunch, bought the school, and fired the big kid’s dad. Wanna keep talking?

Reader (from his hip): I gots a popsicle 😋

Jason: She’s a hero. And heroes get popsicles.

Bonus:

"Operation: Juice Box Escape" ft. Toddler!Reader in her Feral Era 😤🧃

Setting: Wayne Manor. 8:03 PM. Post-cookie-denial incident.

Bruce: “No more cookies, sweetheart. You already had three.”

Toddler!Reader (3 y/o, betrayed, betrayed like Mufasa): …Okay.

Five Minutes Later…

Alfred (noticing the silence): Sir… have you seen the young miss?

Cut to: Security Cam Footage – Toddler!Reader, dead serious, wearing sunglasses, a glittery Dora backpack, and a tutu, marching toward the door dragging her stuffed duck by the wing.

Inside the backpack:

6 juice boxes

2 teddy bears

A tiara

Bruce’s credit card

One cookie (stolen)

Reader (muttering to herself): I runnin' ‘way. Gonna live wif Super-man. He gimme cookies.

Batfam:

Tim (on the computer): Security breach detected—WAIT THAT’S HER.

Jason: Did she just say she’s going to live with Clark?? NOT ON MY WATCH.

Dick: Get the car!! I’ll bring the plushies!!

Damian: I TOLD YOU ALL TO INSTALL TODDLER-SIZED MOTION SENSORS.

Steph: already halfway out the door My BABY is FLEEING.

Meanwhile, on the sidewalk…

Toddler!Reader: sipping a juice box and holding out her thumb like she saw in a movie I hitchin’ a wide.

Random Driver: Uh—do you need help, little—

Jason (pulls up in the Batmobile): BACK OFF, SHE HAS TWO LEGAL GUARDIANS AND A NINJA FAMILY.

Toddler!Reader (arms crossed): You no let me eat da cookie.

Jason: Baby, we’ll buy you an entire bakery, just come back inside.

Reader: I wanna live wif Super-man. He NICE. He say I strong.

Bruce (arriving, out of breath): I’LL BUY YOU THE SUN. JUST NOT CLARK. PLEASE.

Later that night:

Reader is peacefully sleeping in Jason’s hoodie, surrounded by six plushies, two Batboys snoring on the floor, and one glittery crown on her head.

Cass (whispering): She has a cookie in her pocket.

Damian: Let her keep it. She earned it.

✨ BONUS QUOTE ✨

Reader (drowsy): Next time… I bring more juice.

Bruce (tucking her in): Next time, take me with you.

A/N: I think I got a bit carried away<3

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.

hey, we had fratboy shauna, lottie, and... fratboy jackie?

— so into you || fratboy and g!p jackie taylor headcanons 🎬

a/n: nothing smart to say this time. just need her. also, she gives strong ariana grande songs vibes if you ask me.

summary: she changed since high school and turns out…she’s not as bad as you thought she is. modern college au. girlfriend!jackie.

warnings: NSFW - content - MDNI

★ — well, you didn’t know that someone like jackie taylor exist til the day you walked in class. she sits spread open at the desk. varsity jacket around her shoulders with college soccer team logo. there’s weird, like really concerning amount of silver rings on her fingers. and, oh god, boxers are picking out from the waistband of her jeans.

★ — after that you learn that this girl is a soccer team captain! and your friends are pretty sure she’s into you. you let it slide for now, cause jackie…simply doesn’t make a move. sure, smiles at you, sometimes throw compliment or two. but nothing besides that.

★ — and hell, that girl got reputation. people say she’s mean which…just doesn’t make sense in your head. she’s so nervous around you, how could she be mean to anyone? then, when she finally gets her shit together, she catches you in cafeteria and in front of all your friends she asks you out.

i mean, she tries. cause what comes from her mouth sounds like she’s choking. “hi…so…” she swallows. “i actually don’t know, i mean, you don’t have a boyfriend, yeah? or hell, girlfriend? i just…” she stutters. “maybe you wanna go out? tomorrow? i mean, no rush! we don’t have to, it’s your choice, really…”

“jackie” you cut her off. “just pick me up around 6.”

she stares at you for a moment then she looks like she’s suddenly buzzing with energy. “oh fuck, great—“ she says relieved. “i mean, yeah. cool. whatever.” she mumbles, trying not to sound overexcited. she does anyway. she blushes like a total idiot walking away.

★ — did i mention her obsession with varsity jackets? no? cause this asshole has whole ass collection in her closet. not like you’re complaining when she borrows you another one. they’re smell like hell. (borrows is a big word, she just warps you in it. deal with it.)

★ — oh jackie’s smell. always so fresh, with that cologne sticking tt her skin that fills up your nostrils anytime she’s hovering over you.

★ — right! going back to her rings! the same with jackets — whole ass collections is placed at her nightstand. she wakes up in the morning and put random ones on. the more the better. turns out she loves jewellery in general. necklaces, bracelets. yes, she wears your bra strap as a bracelet.

★ — speaking of which — jackie has piercings! just in ears tho. beginning with basic lobes and ending with conch, helix and rook. and well…one hidden one. albert king piercing.

★ — you gasp when you have sex for the first time, feeling something like ring brushing against your velvet walls. you stare at her. not used to this new sensation.

“jackie, is that…?” you start but she nods swiftly, cheeks are flushed both from embarrassment and arousal.

“is it bad, cause…?” she pants but you shake your head swiftly.

“no, fuck that’s…” you manage to choke out. “that’s hot, jax.”

★ — you see, jackie was a virgin until she met you. she’s so panicked when you’re fucking for the first time. constantly asking you if she’s doing okay, if she’s not hurting you.

“jesus christ, jax.” you breathe out with amusement. “just fuck me.”

and god knows she does. firstly, she’s hesitant, taking things slow. but when her dick is buried deep inside your slick folds? she nearly cries out from pleasure. poor jackie, never had pussy around her cock. when she gets more confident, she fucks you like woman possessed. and she even moans way louder than you. whimpering in your ear with each thrust.

★ — not to mention the first time you give her a head. her eyes rolls back in her head from pleasure while you suck her tip with piercing.

★ — here’s another thing: jackie is prideful. jackie doesn’t like when people tell her what to do. always cocky, in charge. like she’s the best in every single thing she does (she’s not. she’s just annoying.) and then, there’s you. and she loves when you put her in her place while riding her dick. or even without fucking her. she just obeys.

★ — she loves affection but only privately. in public she plays this unbothered, smug frat. keeping your close but not always touching you. pressing kisses to your neck occasionally but she doesn’t cling to you. not around people at least. cough, reputation.

★ — cause when you’re alone? fuck, she does cling. her hands are all over you, lips travelling constantly up and down. like she’ll die if she won’t be touching you. call her all you want, she’s secretly an awful simp for you. also, people know that. probably after she fell asleep on you at that one party. gripping you like you’re the last person on planet earth.

★ — she gives you a lot compliments. leaving the notes on the fridge, in your notes, in your bag…everywhere. and you learn to compliment her too by that! she’s blushing like hell when you call her handsome.

★ — she’s annoying. like really fucking getting on your nerves sometimes. caring too much about her reputation. her clothes. her fucking appearance. all the damn time.

“jax, what the hell?” you ask irritated walking into the bathroom. “you’re sitting here for hours.”

“yeah, to look pretty for a date with my prettiest girlfriend” she grins tugging you for a kiss. and yeah…you melt right and there.

★ — she’s a smoker — always walking everywhere with her vape. she probably smokes something awfully sweet. like strawberry or raspberry.

★ — she needs to keep up her reputation of that confident, perfect asshole that somehow is loved by everyone around. but when it comes to you…you’re her safe place. she’s sensitive. more than people think. sometimes she simply cries in your arms because of the pressure. only to feel a little guilty next day and brings you breakfast to your bed. from your favourite restaurant. she memorised.

★ — she doesn’t say much i love you’s. she’s definitely not so obvious with her love. but she’s sure as hell possessive — you’re her absolute everything. and jackie taylor doesn’t share.