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#so no parent has to bury their own kids

seijuroraizel · 5 months

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So, I don't speak a lot here or anywhere, but today, I want to speak about the "brave" and "honest" person you might know here as muttpeeta or as attheredmind on AO3 which I had the unfortunate experience of following someone like her for a couple years now without knowing the kind of person she is.

So, following some meaningless squabble about New York Times POTT, someone brought up to her attention -or she might have addressed that herself- that people associated with the current genocide going on in Gaza AND West Bank (where there is no KHAMAS!) Were more deserving to get the award or title whatever, since the newspaper gave it to president Zel of Ukraine last year. atthered mind didn't like that apparently, so she answered by some nonsense and amidst her replies to the anons she claimed she is neutral and that she sympathize with the "people suffering in Gaza and Israel". But then she followed that sweet talk with tags accusing the Palastinian and Gaza's side of committing crimes of murder and rape against "Jews". Now notice the stereotypes which she uses. Saying Jews instead of Israeli. As if the Palestinians are targeting all jews. And no Jews stand against Israel.

Then in another reply, she simplified the situation as "war" between Muslims and Jews.

She was so upset about ppl calling her out about that as anons and wanted someone to confront her by their names. So I did. And guess what, she run away and blocked me 🙂😂

But sorry muttpeeta, I'm not letting your Zionist propaganda slide. And everything will be backed by actual evidence and sources -Israeli ones too- and not words in the air.

So first things first. Muttpeeta claims about rape and murder were addressed multiple times by both Palastinian and Israeli sides. Israeli government said they found no evidence of sexual assault. Image from The Times of Israel.

On the other hand, there are uncountable vitrified cases of rape crimes by the Israeli military, but Muttpeeta won't mention that ofc

And I think we can determine the truth of these claims, on both sides, from the statements of women held captive.

youtube

The murder... there sure was murdering cases by Palastinian personals in that day. Which I personals considered grave mistakes that need punishment. And Gaza's government stated that those actions -and civilians kidnapping by the way too- were against the orders given. Also that most of these cases were carried out by persons not affiliated with Hamas. But to claim that all the dead were civilians and by Hamas hands? Look for yourselves. The white names are civilians, and the yellow are military

Ok, are we certain all tgese were killed by Hamas? No. In more than one statement, Israeli officials and officers in their panic revealed that Israeli army killed civilians that day

Watch

While Hamas condemned killing and kidnapping civilians, you will find the Israeli government shamelessly calling to use nuclear on Gaza, or kill 150 thousand of its population or calling these people human animals... things you would have heard of from Hitler and his Nazis.

Muttpeeta didn't like when Intold her this.

Finally, this is not war between "Muslims and Jewish" this is a genocide carried out by one of the strongest armies in the world, backed up by superpowers innthe world against Palastinians who have no water, electricity, medicine, food let alone an army to defend them. This is a genocide against Palastinians, Muslims AND Christians. Just 10 days ago Israeli bombes one of the oldest churches in the world, killing many of the ppl who were seeking a safe place there.

Here is a great video from President Carter about Palastine

And for further informations I would recommend this video here

youtube

It has English caption. It's long but worth it. And it's all from Israeli sources.

I would also strongly recommend following Norman Finkelstein, Miko Peled, Noam Chomsky, who are ALL Jews, and Miko even Israeli, but they have the humanity in them to stand against Zionism and its genocidal agend.

To Muttpeeta, next time, either be contented with anon replies (I wasn't one of them, btw) or be brave enough to continue a debate once you start it. I hope someone, even if anon delivers this to her or it reaches her, is in any way.

#palestine #gaza #so no more blood shed #so no entire families get wiped out of globe each night #Youtube #free palestine #so no children get nightmares of airstrikes #so Muslims Christians Jews get to live in peace once more #as they did a hundred years ago #so no human dies out of hunger #so no human dies of medicine lack #so no more children get orphan #so no parent has to bury their own kids

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screampied · 5 months

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Heyyyyy 🩷🫶🏾

Ex-husband! Choso who refuses to get remarried because he’s still in love with you. Even though you filed for divorce due to his lack of time, He still comes by the house to take care of the kids and sometimes cooks dinner. You realize that he’s not going anywhere when after every visit he fucks you like the night of your wedding. (NSFw please)?

MY LOVE, MINE ALL MINE.

*ೃ༄ fem!reader, ex husband!choso, overstim, unprotected sex, whiney choso, breeding, praise, mdni. wc: 0.9k

ex-husband choso never stopped loving you, despite the two of you separating.

he couldn’t.

he’s always had a deep love for you, he couldn’t be bothered with trying to move on. he still happily wears his ring, there’s probably never a moment where he takes it off because he’s just that in love with you.

it happens every time. he ends up coming over, claiming he forgotten clothes, wants to visit the kids, anything else. yet once he has you alone with the kids being at your parents house, he shows how much he misses you.

he’s so gentle with his touch—sweet whimpers escape his lips as he creates kiss trails all over your body, savoring your sweet taste that he’s always missed.

“really missed my wife,” he’d mumble out, and his lips felt so soft, tender you started to pulse. it was incredibly embarrassing. yet you and choso both knew he knew every inch of your body. every inch that makes you whine out his name. “gorgeous body. ‘s perfect ‘n all for me.”

“c-choso,” you’d moan, bringing his head close up to your neck. he sucks on your tender collarbone, he’s buried balls deep with you being sprawled out on your back. he’s gripping your thigh, caressing it before he starts to moan against your ear.

you’re nearly losing your mind at how good your warmth swallows him, gripping tight around him, it makes him dizzy. “fuck..”

“hey hey,” he mumbles, hovering over your body, his warm breath wafts against your neck, he’s so addicted to sucking softly on your skin, nibbling it playfully to drag out and elicit the sweetest sounds from your mouth.

“don’t talk baby, jus’ want you to feel me. got me so obsessed,” he goes on to say, and he grabs onto your hand. his hands were bigger than yours, a smooth surface of his palms yet as his fingers interlock with yours, you felt the coldness of the metal. the wedding ring he still wore after all this time brush against his ring finger. “woman, y’don’t know how crazy you drive me..”

choso’s heart pounds the more he stares into your eyes. and he’s always gentle with his rhythm, but with its own sprinkle of roughness.

“can never stay a-away from you,” he moans, rutting himself against you. you’re just tightening and squeezing down on him that his jaw clenches. “baby, ‘m gonna get milked by you again. i-i feel it.”

“kiss me.” you spit out, just yearning for his touch, for more of his taste. at this point, you could care less that the two of you were split. your trembling legs locked around his slim waist as he’s pumping in and out of you.

your body cutely jerks and jolts against him, your frame he always found out to be so adorable in comparison to him.

he huffs out a breath before furrowing his eyebrows, growing more needy himself. “open your mouth then.”

you do—parting your lips, and choso leans in to kiss you, sloppily. you wrap your arms around him, his soft darkened hair tickles against your forehead, it wasn’t in its usual ponytails. he had it down because after all, he’s always had a thing for you pulling on it.

he moans in your mouth. still jackhammering his hips against yours at full throttle, your legs twitch and rub against his bare back. choso’s so high from your lips, running his tongue, tracing it against yours before you whimper once you feel him reach a hand down towards your pussy to give it a squeeze. he pulls away before whispering against your lips. “tell me you still love me, baby.”

“i-i still love you.” you whined, feeling your orgasm about to reach itself. it was approaching heavily, and your head went back against the pillow. choso’s eyes glimmer at your words, tracing a thumb against your lips before sneaking a kiss onto your mouth.

choso starts panting. “all i wanted to hear,” his muscles flex from his constant friction he creates with his sharp hips. you’re so full, his dick was purely appetizing, all you could even think of was your ex-husband spilling a thick load inside of you like he always does.

it always comes out a lot, thick stringy ropes of cum. his favorite thing to do would be to pull out and let the remains splatter all over your tummy.

“i wanna make you a mommy again so bad,” he stammers out. hiding his head inside of your neck, he’s nibbling near your collarbone once more. his right hand rests on your tummy as he’s still pumping in and out of you, his own strength making him whimper out. “miss seeing your pretty tummy so plump ‘n round. gorgeous body.”

“do it then,” you whined, brushing your heel against his back. his eyes light up, he prepared himself to say something but he just moans instead. choso’s voice, you could listen to it all day, whether he was whimpering or just conversing conversation. “gimme another baby, choso.”

“i’ll give you twins,” he whispers, his voice was undeniably shaky. peppering your nose with kisses. his hips rock back and forth in such a sensual way you find your nails dragging down his back. “but first,” he pauses, stopping mid thrust to bring out your hand, kissing it once. his voice was so gentle, he moans from how tight you squeeze around him.

choso slides off his ring—squeezing it on yours and it was a perfect fit, he leans in to kiss you before letting off a moan. “marry me, again?”

an. I LOVE HIM SO MUCH. requests open <3

#★vegasbaby.#jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #choso kamo smut #choso x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fic #jjk smut #anime smut #female reader #anime x reader #smut #choso kamo x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader

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ceilidho · 1 month

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my most realistic Ghost headcanon is that he’s so absent father coded that he definitely has a wife and kid squirrelled away in a house somewhere that he visits from time to time but he finds it painful and uncomfortable being part of a “family” for too long so his visits are weird and sporadic, like he’ll randomly pick his son up from school and take him on a drive somewhere and you have no idea until your kid comes home that evening and tells you “oh yeah dad spent the day with me” and you’re GOBSMACKED because Simon never told you he was coming.

And other times he comes just to pick you up and bring you to a motel room he’s rented to fuck you six ways from Sunday and then when he’s done he just zips up and says “put another couple grand in the account for you and the boy” and kisses you on the head before driving you back home. Never stays very long. It can be rough on you, but if he stays too long he can feel his nerves fray. His upbringing made him hard and cold but there’s a part of him buried very very deep down that just doesn’t want to risk being his father.

Also I think he’s got a real kink for seeing you take care of his kid because of his own upbringing and how neglected he was as a child. He sees you sneak an extra sandwich in his son’s lunch and nearly breaks the glass in his hand. Obsessed with talking about how good you are to his kid when he’s fucking you - “good fuckin’ girl - gonna give me another?”

This has some adverse effects though because he has to be the hard ass parent like god forbid you try to tell his son he can’t have a snack before bed, he’ll just frown and go “the kid can ‘ave a snack, he’s no’ gonna go ‘ungry” like chill out, mate, he’s gonna have an upset stomach. It’s kind of a blessing when he’s not around because he always tries to contradict you when you’re trying to instil some discipline in your kid.

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fettuccin-e · 2 years

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Filthy Whispers

I absolutely hc that Steve motherfucking Harrington has a filthy mouth and doesn't even realize it,,, like he just gets so pussydrunk that his brain-to-mouth filter is just nonexistent,, so here we go besties (Tags: Steve Harrington x Reader, unprotected piv, size kink, hints of breeding kink and exhibitionism kink, fem!reader)

With his pretty doe eyes and soft hair and penchant for taking hapless kids under his wing, it’s easy to assume that Steve Harrington is as vanilla as they come. It’s easy to think that under the polo shirts and parental rolls of his eyes that Steve probably just likes it slow and steady, missionary and almost marital.

Anyone who assumes that is fucking stupid.

Steve likes missionary, of course, but it isn’t slow and soft, it isn’t ‘making love.’

No, Steve likes missionary because it means that he can fucking fold you in half, pressing your thighs against your tits while he hooks your calves over his shoulders. He likes being able to lick into your sticky mouth, your pretty lips gaping open over punched out moans while he fucks his fat cock into your dripping pussy.

And despite his stuffy upbringing, his polos and mother-hen tendencies, Steve Harrington has the filthiest mouth you’ve ever heard.

“Goddamn, baby, you hear that? Hear how this sweet pussy is sucking me in? Jesus, sweetheart, been thinking about you all day. Wanted to fuck you over the counter at work, just pull your panties to the side and slide my cock in,” he murmurs into your mouth. He doesn’t wait for any responses to his questions, he just keeps talking and talking while your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“You’d take me in, wouldn’t you baby? Take me all the way inside your little cunt? People would walk into the store, just wanting a movie, right baby? But they’d get a whole different show, sweetheart. Cause I wouldn’t stop; I’d keep fucking you even as people walked in, and I bet you’d scream sweetheart, God. You’re so fucking desperate to be filled up, you’d let me fuck you in front of strangers, anything to get to this cock, right baby?”

You nod deliriously, barely registering Steve’s words he stretches you out so good, reaching so deep inside. Your chest is heaving with the effort it takes to get air into your lungs, only for the air to get knocked out again by each one of Steve’s brutal thrusts.

“Jesus, you’re fucking dripping, sweetheart. Just gushing over this cock, shit, you’re so fucking hot. Need this pussy all the time, y’feel so good wrapped around me. Wanna- wanna be buried deep in this cunt, all the time baby. Gonna fuck you all the time, sweetheart, just keep you stuffed full with my cum, dripping out just to fuck it back in. Gotta get you off that birth control baby, so I can get you pregnant, fuck-”

Steve cuts himself off with a deep groan, almost surprised at his own words. You both knew you wanted kids, maybe in a few years, when you moved out of your shitty apartment and bought a house, maybe got a dog. But the thought of you, all swollen and heavy with your kid, fuck, it’s got Steve lightheaded.

You sob as Steve somehow starts to shove himself in harder, tears streaming from your eyes as you claw at his back. “Steve, Steve, I can’t- It’s too much, oh god-”

“Fuck yeah, take it baby,” Steve mutters. He snakes a hand between you to rub your clit, chuckling like the bastard he is when your hands shoot down to grip his wrist tightly, stopping his motions. “C’mon, baby, why aren’t you letting me play with you? Little pussy is just begging for it, clutching onto me so well. She wants me to fill her up, right? You want it baby, I know you do. Shit, I’ll get you all heavy and pregnant, keep you at home while these pretty tits,” he leans down to bite one of your breasts, bouncing with the force of his thrusts, “get all filled up with milk. Shit, and you’ll just be ready for me all of the time. I’ll fuck you when I get home from work, every night, filling you up with cum while your stomach just gets bigger and bigger.”

Steve resumes playing with your puffy clit, even as you try to hold his hand steady. “You wanna be my little housewife, baby? I know you do, sweet girl, fuck.” Steve doesn’t even fucking feel like he’s real anymore, only existing to fuck you full, breed you up. He feels like a fucking animal, ruthless and barbaric as sweat drips down his forehead and his hips drive forward to claim you in the most primal way he can imagine.

“Gonna- gonna fill this pussy up. My pussy,” Steve grunts, “You’re mine right, baby? Say you’re mine.”

You barely have enough sanity to respond, “Yours, Steve. ‘M all yours.”

“That’s right baby. You’re mine. And I’m yours, you got that? I’m all yours, every part of me. My body, my mind, my soul, it’s fucking yours. God, you’re so perfect, so stunning, can’t- I can’t believe you’re mine, my perfect fucking baby, Christ-”

You open your bleary eyes to see Steve above you, eyes clenched shut, still mumbling. You know Steve, you know that sometimes he starts to spiral when he gets like this, all overstimulated and cock aching as he tries to hold off for you, the hot clutch of your cunt too much for him to bear. You reach a hand up to clutch at the hairs on the back of his head, smiling softly when his eyes snap open.

“Fill me up, baby. Want you to stuff me full with your cum, stretch me out till I’m gaping for you. Fuck Steve, I want you to own me.”

And Steve whines, high-pitched in the back of his throat, before he buries his face in the crook of your neck whispering, “God, you’ve got a fucking filthy mouth, baby.”

And you almost laugh, you would have, if Steve didn’t snap his hips at just the right angle, jamming the head of his cock right into your sweet spot. Steve, calling your mouth filthy. It’s almost comical. But you know that Steve barely even realizes what he says to you half the time, too lost in the sopping hot wetness of your cunt to filter his words. His mouth just runs when he fucks you, unfettered, giving you a glimpse into his deepest thoughts of you and your pretty body.

“Cum, sweet baby,” Steve whispers. “Gotta feel you squeeze around my cock, wanna see you fucking scream.”

And you have no choice but to follow his orders, screaming as you finally cum, pussy fluttering around Steve, still hammering deep into you.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so sexy. Gotta, gotta get one of those video cameras, yeah? Gotta film you falling apart like this, fuck you while we watch it, you look so pretty, oh fuck.” Steve’s eyes clench shut again as his hips still, spilling his cum deep into your overstimulated pussy, gasping out your name.

He slumps heavily on top of you, meeting your lips in a gentle kiss. You giggle at him softly when he looks up into your eyes, his cheeks all flushed and eyes sleepy.

“You think we’ve got enough money right now for one of those new camcorder things?” Steve whispers, moving to lay next to you. You wince minutely as he slides out, and Steve lays an apologetic kiss on your shoulder before he tugs you close to him, your bodies melding together.

“Stevie, baby,” you say, brushing a hand through his soft, albeit sweaty, hair. “If you keep fucking me like that, I’ll buy you ten camcorders.”

#this is what happens when i write while ovulating #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #stranger things x you #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader

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rafeandonlyrafe · 1 month

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the same tv

words: 1.8k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, unprotected sex, p in v sex, parent death, funerals, robbery, redemption/forgiveness, addiction, drinking (wine, not like hard drinking), tickling, cockwarming, they call themselves kids at one point but at no point are reader or rafe under 18, like itll make sense once you read it in context

the first thing you do when you enter your house is kick off your shoes. the next is to stop holding back your tears as they stream down your face. you can't even sob anymore, just silent, steady tears.

you sigh as you look around the entryway. there's been some changes since you moved away, despite only being out of your parents house for a little over a year. they replaced the grand portrait that was of your mom's parents with one of you, now taking the place of honor.

you look away before you get to the rest of the family photos. you've seen enough at the funeral. you walk further in to the house, bare feet against the shiny wood floor.

you pause when you hear something further in. you haven't forgotten how the old house seemed to speak, groaning and settling during strong winds or when too many people were crammed between it's walls.

this sound seems different, but you're also occasionally sniffling, your ears are shot from blasting music in an attempt to distract yourself, so you shrug it off and walk further into the living room.

the sound suddenly makes sense as you see someone stood in your living room, arms holding up your parents flat screen television, awkwardly trying to carry it.

you aren't even mad. you honestly don't care about the tv. or the fact that someone is trying to rob you.

you let out a bitter laugh before you sink to the floor. “of fucking course this happens.” you are glad you still have your purse slung from your shoulder as you pull your wallet out, quite aggressively throwing it at the robber who has now frozen.

“what?” he questions, lowering the tv to the ground and pushing his hood of his head, a dumb move for someone currently committing a crime.

“this has been the worst week of my life and now you're robbing me. just my fucking luck…” you let out a broken sob. “just take whatever you want and leave.”

the only things that matter to you still in the house aren't actually worth anything anyways. the photos of your parents, your dad's cologne that's half empty, the oak tree that your childhood dog is buried next to.

“i thought the people who lived here died.”

you pick your head up, a look of fury overtaking your face.

“they did. they're my fucking parents! and now they're gone and you're fucking robbing me! get the fuck out!” you stand up, pushing at the robbers chest.

he looks familiar, like you should know who he is but can't place him.

“im-shit. im sorry.” he says, allowing you to shove him away and out the door.

“im really fucking sorry!” he yells again before you slam the door shut.

-- years later --

you park your car in the driveway instead of pulling it all the way into the garage like you know you should, but you need to know if you're correct about the man sitting on your front step.

“you're the kid that tried to rob me.” you say as you walk the sidewalk to the porch.

“yes.” he says, looking ashamed and a whole lot more grown up. “i was an addict and i owed a debt. my dad had just kicked me out of the house and i was on my own for the first time. it was stupid of me, but when i heard the people living here died, i thought it'd be a victimless crime.”

he sighs deeply, like even just thinking back to that time physically hurts. “i didn't even think that someone could have inherited the house. im so, so sorry.”

he swallows thickly. “my mom died when i was young. my dad- my dad just died recently. he faked his death and i got him back, but he's actually gone this time. you know what you said about the worst week in your life?”

you think back those years. it's mostly a blur, especially the days surrounding your parents car crash and funeral, but you do remember breaking down in front of the robber. you nod gently, waiting to hear the end of his speal.

“i know what you mean now. and im sorry i hurt you. im sorry about your parents dying.” he pulls something out of his pocket, extending his hand.

you look into his open palm, realizing it's a ornate gold necklace.

“no.” you shake your head. “you keep it. you don't need to bribe me to forgive you.”

“i want you to have it.” he says. “it's… it's not a lot, but it's something. something to help make up for what ive done.”

you reach forward, carefully taking the necklace out of his outstretched hand, carefully not to accidentally bump his skin.

“thank you.” you say, admiring the way the sun gleams off the metal.

“im rafe, by the way. rafe cameron.”

“y/n.” you respond, undoing the clasp of the necklace.

“here, let me.” he takes it out of your hands, moving quicker than you can think as he steps around you. your hair is already up in a bun, so rafe is able to reach around and easily place the chain around your neck.

“thank you.” the weight of the necklace feels comfortable against your skin, like it's the last finishing touch you need. you are wearing your mother's earrings, your father's bracelet, and now you have the other piece of what made that time in your life so miserable, your robbers necklace.

“i… i guess ill be going now.” rafe says.

you turn and watch him walk away. you recognize so much of your former self in him, the clear grieving he's going through.

“are you sober now?” you call out before he reaches the end of your driveway.

“sober enough.” he shouts back. rafe doubts he'll ever truly be clean, but he can at least manage now, doesn't need the drugs like he used to.

“then come back for dinner tomorrow. we can talk.”

you can see the smile stretch over his features. “ill be there.”

-- three months later --

“shit.” rafe says, head snapping over to you. “this is the same tv.”

you giggle and nod, surprised it took him so long to realize. “i never really watch tv on the actual tv, so no need to replace it.” you shrug, the gold necklace still draped over your neck. you haven't taken it off except to shower and sleep.

“god, thats crazy.” rafe looks over to you. “imagine if we just talked back then.”

you shake your head. “you just think you want that because we get along now. we were both in bad places.”

“you don't think we would have been hooking up back then?” rafe asks, raising an eyebrow at you, watching the way your thighs press together at the mere mention of hooking up, already feeling the urge to sleep with rafe even after having sex only a couple of hours ago.

“we were two scared kids. if we were hooking up we definitely shouldn't have been.” you giggle, reaching your wine glass out for rafe to refill, which he is glad to pour a more than healthy amount in.

“and now?” rafe looks down at his lap.

“and now we are two slighty less scared slightly older kids.” you giggle again, taking a deep sip before leaning across the couch cushion to press a kiss to rafes cheek, the movie you had put on long forgotten.

“rafe.” you wait until he looks you in the eye. “im here for you.”

“god, what have i done to deserve you?” rafe wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you on top of him as he flops back onto the couch.

you let out a laugh before it's cut off with his lips. he kisses you heavily, hand against the back of your head, not allowing you to pull away, not that you want to.

you let himself get lost in your kiss. you wish you had someone to support you in the time you needed most, and you're determined to be that person for rafe now.

rafe easily dominates your mouth even though he's underneath you as you quickly work your shorts off, wiggling against him until your bottom half is nude.

you press against rafes crotch, still covered by his sweatpants. you feel his cock straining against the fabric as you rub your pussy against it, wetting the gray material.

“baby, please.” rafe groans. he would pull his cock out himself, but his hands are preoccupied holding you close to him as if his life depends on it.

“oh, now you don't like teasing?” you smile.

“alright, i deserve this.” rafe also manages a chuckle despite his straining erection. “but please. need to feel your pussy ‘round me.”

“alright.” you roll your eyes dramatically. you'll have to get revenge on rafe at a different time for edging you the other night.

you push his pants down his thighs until you're able to reach into his underwear and pull out his cock. you give him a few quick strokes before lining up your entrance and sinking down.

rafe let's out a moan, barely pulling his face away from yours. “you're so wet.”

“it's almost like i like you or something.” you roll your eyes.

rafe laughs before kissing you again, hand moving up to your hair, tangling his fingers between the strands.

you sit on his cock for a moment, adjusting, before beginning to move, up then down, up then down, subtle movements of your hips, not needing anything fast, wanting drawn out, wanting it to last.

the movie is long over by the time rafe finally cums, a hand finally moving down to rub your clit to make sure you get off at the same time as his.

by the time you're both satisfied, you're sweaty and exhausted. you don't even bother to pull off his cock as you rest your head against his chest.

“thank you.” rafe says softly, rubbing his hand over your back. you don't need to ask what for. you know. for being there. you'll always be there.

you look up at him, a small smile on your face. “how are we gonna tell people we met?”

things are quickly getting serious, and while he hasn't breached the subject with you yet, neither of you have been hiding how quickly you're falling.

“what, you think it's a problem that we met when i was robbing you?” rafe says, making you giggle, only intensified by his hand pressing into your side, fingers tickling you as you howl with laughter.

rafe flips you over onto your back so you're underneath him, keeping his cock pushed inside of you.

“maybe we should just tell people we met on tinder.” rafe shrugs.

you roll your eyes. “somehow that's more embarrassing.”

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houpss · 2 months

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𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐊𝐙 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬

aggression, a little angst, vanilla and fluff

Some members will have not only points, but also background. Some won't have it (!)

𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧

This man is possessive and quite jealous. Chan is an adult man with formed emotions and convictions, and one of his convictions is that he never shares his own, be it members or his personal belongings.He, of course, knew personal boundaries and understood what was possible and what was not. But when it came to jealousy...

It was the evening of a closed fashion show in France, where SKZ flew and you flew with them. You were also a significant figure in the modeling industry and that is why you were invited to the show. K-pop stars and American industry stars gathered there: singers, directors, models and actors. Absolutely everyone was there. Chan knew that this was a noisy event and that's why Stray Kids fit in perfectly there. There was a fashionable party, an atmosphere of fun filled the halls and Chan liked it, until the moment he saw that you were surrounded by male attention.

This man will literally become overprotective and he will follow you with his eyes unless you are near him.

No, Chan didn't get jealous often. He has 8 members, Chan has a big and generous heart!

Only small children of their parents are jealous when they pay attention to someone other than their child. But Chan, after all, could and knew how to be jealous, he did it.

You felt his cold and patronizing gaze from meters away in the hall, this aura hovered around you.

As soon as you are near him, he will immediately calm down.

He will immediately return to the state of the kind and smiling Chris!

"Awww my Y/N is so beautiful todaay"

"My princess stole the show here."

He's literally very soft.

After such a scene he will be your "bodyguard", when you talk to someone, he is nearby. He quietly check that no one is doing unnecessary things.

When you return to your hotel room, Channie will become very soft and clingy.

"Y/n! Chris is tired and wants your hugs!"

"Chris wants Y/n's soft kisses"

You laugh softly at him and you clearly give him what he asks for.

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰

Minho wasn't one to get jealous a lot. He was deeply convinced of his and your feelings. Jealousy is too stupid. But this was only the case up to a certain point.

You were also a dancer and for a large-scale show you were given a dance number with your colleague. The dance was quite energetic, sexy and literally amazing. Minho saw your training and didn’t pay much attention to it. You would never cheat on him. You talked about it so much that it made Minho nervous, but he remained silent. He knew it was important to you. There was a show tonight where you performed with your colleague. Minho sat in the hall with Jisung and Jeongin. Some time passed before your number began, it was the middle of the show. Oh, it seems this fellow colleague is too close to you, this was not planned.

Minho's eyes instantly narrowed as he watched this creep touch and dance with you.

The muscles in Minho's face began to flex as he clenched his jaw.

He arches an eyebrow and snorts, he could have done it much better.

By the end of the performance, jealousy consumed him.

He wanted to kill this guy. Minho was cruel.

After the performance, he left Jisung and Jeongin in the hall while he went to your dressing room.

He urgently wanted to see and feel you.

You sat in front of the mirror and took off your makeup.

"That guy allowed himself too much, my dear."

"What are you talking about, Ho?"

"No one dares to touch you the way I touch you."

He leaned towards you and buried his nose in your hair, his hands on your shoulders.

“Next time, I’ll dance with you myself.” He would like to add to his sentence: “I’ll fuck you in front of that guy so that he understands everything himself,” but he remained silent.

Your gentle kiss will even improve the situation somewhat. Minho is your home cat again.

𝐒𝐞𝐨 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐛𝐢𝐧

You and Changbin go to the gym together, he works out his muscles, and you do stretching and yoga. You and Changbin were passionate about sports, it was an integral part of your couple! There were many men and women in the room, Changbin was always a little jealous. He just loves you too much!

But this time it turned out that you were training in different halls of the same sports complex. You worked out in the gym with other women, but Changbin was paranoid that men were staring at you.

This man will not be able to train normally and will only think about you.

He won't be able to continue training until he checks on you.

He will spy on you 🥷

From time to time he will run from gym to gym and watch you do yoga surrounded by other women.

It calmed him down...

After your training, he will hug you tightly and kiss the top of your head.

This man will become very loud and happy in your presence.

"My Y/n is so sweet! Binnie is happy again"

𝐇𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧

Hwang Hyunjin was perfect, such a guy had everything he wanted, but most importantly he had you. He wasn't overly jealous, but "you're mine" and that wasn't discussed. He hated the idea that there was someone else who could touch you the way he touched you and tell you the things he told you.

When he left SKZ on tours or events in another country, he would definitely become overprotective from a distance. He's just afraid that someone will take his place, maybe you can find someone more ideal than him? Expect constant video calls and unobtrusive questions from him, he may be too dramatic or whiny, this is normal. One evening you will be talking via video call, because you stayed in Seoul and Hyunjin in France.

"I saw your posts on Instagram, are you hanging out with someone?? 🥺"

"Yeah,Jinnie, I finally met a friend I haven't seen for a very long time."

"Let him not allow himself too much—"

"ARE YOU JEALOUS?"

Hwang Hyunjin and jealousy? never.

"She was holding your hand too tightly in that photo! This woman allows herself a lot."

"You're literally jealous right now~"

"This is not jealousy, but ordinary boundaries 😡"

"You're very cute when you're jealous, I love you"

He will turn into a puddle after these words.

𝐇��𝐧 𝐉𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠

Han Jisung doesn't know how to be jealous.

He is absolutely confident in both you and himself.

But some trainee from JYP ENTERTAINMENT became interested in you and showed you signs of attention.

At first he didn't pay attention to it.

It didn't bother him because you were always near.

But then he began to notice that you would either smile at this guy or talk to him in the corridors of the company.

He, he'll get worried.

You will notice this.

Jisung will become less cheerful or tender with you, slowly moving away.

You sit him next to you and make him talk.

"Have you found someone better than me?"

"Why do you think that, Hannie?"

He will look at you sadly, now he is not happy and will not joke.

"You spend so much time with that trainee guy...–”

"Oooh...he doesn't know Korean, so he asked me to help him! but between us there is only a working relationship"

will this calm him down?

Not really.

He will reach out for your hug and sigh softly when you hug him back.

"Tell me right away if he bothers you 😡"

"HAN JISUNG–"

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐅𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐱

This boy is very shy and touchy :((

When he is jealous, he will be like a pet...In the sense that he will follow you everywhere and he will look so sad.

He just overheard your talk on the phone and didn't like the content.

"Do not you love me anymore?"

He sniffled, it seemed the boy had been crying for a long time.

He was a flower, and you were his sun.

He will sit next to you on the couch and press against your side. His head is now on your chest and his legs are wrapped around yours, he's like a koala.

He's just afraid that you'll leave.

"Why do you think that, freckle?"

You haven’t really changed into your home clothes, because you just came from the street.

You stroke Felix's blond hair, looking at his tear-stained face.

"You...you...went somewhere, before that I heard your telephone talk...sorry"

He literally wouldn't be able to speak properly because the tears were choking his throat again.

He will cry and bury his nose in your chest. Please don't leave him.

"Baby, I was at a meeting of directors, I was urgently called there"

You chuckle quietly and tuck his hair behind his ear.

He is your gentle angel.

"Really...?you won't leave me?" his eyes brightened as he sniffled and looked at you.

You nod affirmatively and kiss his forehead.

He will cry even more because he will be ashamed...

𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐒𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐢𝐧

Seungmin wasn't someone who got jealous a lot or often, he didn't care about that. But he reacts quite brightly when Someone allows himself too much towards you.

He would be angry and not understand alone, he would come up with a lot for himself and would be even more offended by you. He would pull away and give you freedom. Moreover, you can not communicate like this for several days, that suits him.

It really made you nervous that Seungmin could leave so easily and then come back as if nothing had happened, he never explained the reasons. The boy did as he saw fit. You may be able to catch him and get him to talk, he will be quite rude, but eventually he will break down and quietly admit that he feels insecure because of your actions. You felt so offended because Seungmo didn’t tell you right away, but only confessed now. Now you will agree to immediately talk about your jealousy and fears every time. Seungmin will really try his best for you.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧

Maknae is also quite jealous, due to the fact that his hyungs are loving guys, this extends to you, but Jeongin doesn’t like it. You spend time with boys a lot, which can cause Jeongin to get nervous and say something like "Hey! Don't touch her", then SKZ will turn their attention from you to Ninnie.

In general, you and Jeongin are like two big children for SKZ, even if you are older than Jeongin. You are a sociable, bright and talkative person, people are drawn to you. Jeongin notices this and tries to tone it down a bit, he wants all your attention. He just gets a little angry when there is increased attention to you and tries to immediately concentrate your attention on himself!

"Why Hyungs coming at you like that..."

"They just love me too much~"

"THEY CAN'T LOVE YOU THE WAY I LOVE YOU"

The maknae is furious, you are his only one.

You immediately start laughing and kiss him on both cheeks, making him squint like a fox.

No one will want to offend this beautiful little fox.

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liknws · 9 months

Text

skz & introducing you to the others

⎯⎯ PAIRING: stray kids x reader ⎯⎯ TAGS: fluff, tiny bit of angst, just cute shit ⎯⎯ WARNINGS: mentions of anxiety, lmk if i missed any

CHAN

absolutely the least subtle of the group

sure the rest of skz knows that he's seeing someone but they respect that he hasn't brought you around the chaos yet

it's not until he name drops you when half asleep do the rest of the boys start teasing him

instantly regrets speaking and tries to bury himself in the couch to hide from the jokes

he'll bring it up to you eventually, almost nervously

"so i was thinking, it's time you met the other's" and you're supportive of the idea. only ever wanted to do things at his pace

you can't hide that you're just as nervous to meet them because if they don't like you what's to say that won't stop the relationship?

thankfully they like you and are welcoming to you when you come by for dinner

seungmin jokingly calls you "mom" one day and now they won't stop with the parent jokes

next step is introducing you to the world but the boys are protective and help keep your relationship private

(they go to ridiculous lengths to make this happen and at one point you have to convince them that JYP knows about you and no one is breaking rules, just that you want to stay out of the public eye for now while you can)

MINHO

you were more nervous meeting his cats (who love you by the way and you get daily pictures of the three from his parents)

oh yeah, you met his parents too and they loved you

he wasn't reluctant to introduce you to skz but he wasn't making it happen fast either. "the longer i can keep you to myself, the better" was always his excuse and you don't argue because it's true

stay ends up learning about you first (by accident) when you're visiting his parents and he posts a photo of you cuddled asleep with the cats

he did it without thinking, just captioning it something vague and cute on the official instagram

chan takes it down quickly but not fast enough and there are already screenshots

you end up meeting the rest of them through video call when chan calls minho to tell him what happened

once it's clear you're not upset at all, you're invited (read: demanded) to the dorms to meet the rest of them when the break is over

minho pretends to grumble that his perfect secret is blown and that he's going to have to share you now because they'll all love you

spoiler alert: he was right

CHANGBIN

i don't think this man knows the meaning of subtle or private if a dictionary was thrown at him

the second you two make anything official he's asking you to come by the dorms and hang out, to come with him to the gym when he's home to spend more time with him

he can't get enough of being around you and that translates to the rest of skz knowing about you pretty early on

the hard part is keeping your relationship private from people outside of the group

he has almost name dropped you so many times during interviews or tours that it's becoming a running joke among the boys who is on "binnie's big mouth duty" that night

it takes the whole group to keep him from saying something that would give you two away

HYUNJIN

while chan and changbin might be the least subtle, hyunjin is easy to tell something has changed

he's singing certain songs with more energy

his personal instagram posts are very boyfriend coded but he doesn't really say or do anything specific

there's a lot of speculation that he might be seeing someone

you're actually the one to blow it

you were just going to drop something off in the dorm while everyone was at practice (he'd cleared it with security and you had your own code specifically for visits without him)

what you didn't expect was han standing in the kitchen half dressed and a tooth brush in his mouth

he screamed, you screamed, he screamed again, security came to the rescue

you're trying to explain who you are until you pull out your phone and call your boyfriend

"han is here and i scared him and now security is kicking me out i just wanted to leave you a present on your bed im so sorry"

you have to switch to video call to prove that you're talking to hyunjin and that yes, you're his s/o and allowed to be there so security lets you back in with apologies

safe to say you don't do the surprise visits in case you give jisung another heart attack

JISUNG

when i say this boy was stressed about it, he was stressed out by you meeting his friends

you had teased him endlessly about how his true soulmate is minho and he's kind of scared that once you meet them you'll think you're not good enough and leave him

so it takes a lot of talks to get him okay with introducing his favorite person in the world to them

you suggest that instead of meeting them all at once to do it one-by-one in whatever order is the most comfortable with him

which makes you wonder if you're going to meet minho first or last

you're surprised however when you meet him first and ji is anxious the whole time

until both you and minho reassure him that it's okay and that because you and him love jisung that why wouldn't they get along

and you do (so much that minho is almost your bff) which is a relief to him

you end up meeting chan and changbin last which you realize is because of how much he really respects their opinions

he's still a little anxious sometimes when you hang out with the whole of skz at once, fearing that the chaos will chase you off but he realizes he has nothing to worry about when you feed that chaos

FELIX

you two made a whole plan of how to introduce you to the rest of the guys

mostly because you wanted it to go perfectly even if he assured you it would no matter what

he helps you get into the dorms right after everyone has left so you can set up snacks and games to have a game night and get to know everyone

he was supposed to be the first one through the door so when you almost throw yourself at changbin instead of your boyfriend you're mortified

they don't let you live that down but it was an effective way to break the ice and it gets everyone laughing right away

the small hiccup passed, you're trying to impress the others as much as you can because you know they mean so much to felix

chan eventually gets you alone in the kitchen to ask if you're okay and you confess in one breath how anxious you are for them to like you

chan assures you that no one could hate you, you're basically felix in another person and they can all see how he looks at you

another situation where the boys are super protective of you two and your privacy, helping to keep you out of public eye as much as possible

SEUNGMIN

literally no one knew this man was seeing anyone until you just showed up to the dorm one day?

truly one of those types who has the private life thing down and while he shares most of his life with skz, he hasn't ever shared your existence with them

that was an agreement you both came to when things were getting serious and you two like having this whole separate life with each other away from everyone else

they're all confused who he's invited to dinner (he's been so picky about the foods and made sure that only your favorites are made)

truly no one knew about you at all, he wasn't any different but when you're around there is a whole other side of seungmin that the boys are shocked by

until you roast him just as hard as he does the others and oh now they see why you two are perfect for each other

they're not really convinced you two are together until you kiss him goodnight at the door and when he turns around he's so pink in the face and biting his lips to keep from smiling

you two are probably the only ones that are able to keep your relationship out of the public eye for so long until seungmin drops one day that he's a dad?????

JEONGIN

he loves teasing about your existence to the others

like you're aware of what he's doing and you think it's funny

"oh just texting my s/o" like the most casual sentence ever that leaves everyone just looking around confused

never once says your name but will bring you up anytime it's natural

he does this so much and it's so normal that he does it on stage during their unscripted part and it takes too long to realize what happened

seungmin realizes first and starts laughing, telling the others while jeongin realizes what he did

you two have talked about revealing your relationship for a long time but the teasing of it was too much fun

so you end up being introduced to skz at the same time that stay learns about you

(you were backstage at the show with the staff. after clearing the idea with staff, you're dragged out on stage hand-in-hand with jeongin)

to say the boys flip when they realize it's you is ridiculous because you've been on so many schedules and shows that they never realized you were right under their nose

that was part of the fun of it to you two but even with that part over you two will still find ways to tease the members together

#skz x you #skz reactions #skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids reactions #what even are these idk man

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atomicladytimetravel · 4 months

Text

Mirror Mirror

Summary: No Outbreak AU. After an upsetting encounter with a young girl at Sephora, Joel has to show his wife just how beautiful she is. Established relationship. No physical description of the character, just that she’s female and has hair long enough to gather into a ponytail. She = You. I just wanted to try a different format. Inspired by the many Sephora brat TikToks I’ve seen and my own depraved imagination. There may be a sequel later.

Warnings: Dom!Joel, Daddy kink (slight dd/lg vibes), throat fucking, choking, fingering, squirting, oral (m and f receiving), face sitting, spanking, mirror play, unprotected sex, creampie. So…just general depravity. 18+ ONLY. MDNI.

Word count: 3,692

This has been edited. I realized I missed a whole chunk of text 😩

“Joel, have you been using my good shampoo? I just bought this bottle and I’m almost out.”

Joel Miller’s wife appears behind where he’s sitting on the couch, shampoo bottle in hand. She walks around to stand in front of him, brandishing the mostly empty bottle.

“Oh…yeah,” he admits sheepishly. “I like the way it makes my hair look.”

“No wonder you’ve been extra irresistible lately,” she giggles, tousling his very soft hair. “I’m gonna make a run to Sephora to get more. I’ll just get a bigger bottle.”

She grabs her purse, gives Joel a swift kiss and makes her way out the door.

When she enters the store, she heads straight for the shampoo. She picks out the biggest bottle of Living Proof Perfect Hair Day they carry and starts to walk towards the checkout counter. She passes a Drunk Elephant display and notices that exactly one bottle of the coveted drops is available. She’s been wanting to try them and decides to grab one while it’s there. She reaches for the bottle, and her hand is about to close around it when another slightly smaller hand snatches it.

“Ha! Got it!”

She turns to see a girl who could’ve been no more than twelve holding the drops with a triumphant and smug grin.

“Wow, uh, okay. I was gonna buy that.”

“Looks like you’re not now,” the girl says. Before she struts away, she turns back and says: “By the way…no amount of makeup in this store is going to fix the ugly on your face.”

She’s taken aback by the girl’s unsolicited insult. She waits to see if the girl meets back up with a parent (or adult of any kind) but she doesn’t - she buys the Drunk Elephant drops and exits the store alone.

“Jesus, kids just do whatever the fuck they want now I guess,” she thinks to herself. She buys her shampoo and thinks about the interaction for the entire twenty minute drive back home.

Upon her arrival home, she kicks off her shoes in the foyer and makes a beeline for the bedroom.

“I’m just gonna put this away, I’ll be right back,” she tells Joel. She does put the shampoo away, but she can’t help but hold onto what the girl at Sephora said to her. Before meeting Joel, her confidence level was near zero. He spent a lot of time convincing her that she’s beautiful, but this little girl obviously saw something Joel doesn’t.

She stands in front of the beautiful antique mirror Joel had gotten her as an anniversary gift after she fawned over it at an antique store. She picks herself apart in the full length mirror, pinching skin between her fingers and looking for any sign of aging, no matter how subtle. The longer she looks, the more she hates what she sees. Her nose isn’t right, her skin isn’t clear enough, her pores are way too fucking big. Her bottom lip trembles and tears spill from her eyes. Defeated, she shuffles to the bed where she buries her face into a pillow to stifle her sobs. This is how Joel finds her. He rushes to her side, kneeling beside the bed and rubbing her back soothingly.

“Whoa, hey…what’s wrong love?”

She tearfully recounts what happened to her at Sephora and Joel’s face turns stoney. All the work he’s done to make her love herself, to see herself the way he does was all undone in an instant - and over a fucking bottle of overpriced skincare.

“It sounds like you’ve forgotten everything daddy taught you, huh little one? Maybe you need a reminder.”

She sits up on her elbow and looks at him incredulously through her tears.

“Does it really look like I want to fuck right now Joel? How can you even want to fuck me anyway? Look at me!”

“I always want you baby girl. Always,” he replies earnestly. Then, he lowers his voice and his tone becomes dominant. “And now, you’re gonna be a good girl and let daddy show you. Right?”

She can’t deny him when he speaks to her this way. His dominant affection for her never fails to get her going. She sits up fully and wipes her tears.

“Yes daddy,” she responds. He gets to his feet and takes her hand in his, leading her around to the foot of the bed. He stands her in front of the mirror and, standing behind her, slowly begins to undress her. He starts with her top, placing his hands at her sides and pushing the fabric up her body. She raises her arms so that he can pull the top off and he discards it somewhere to the side.

Next is her bra, and he makes light work of unclasping it. The straps fall off her shoulders and she lets the bra slide to the floor. He cups her breasts in his large hands, kneading them and pulling gently on her nipples. She moans softly, arousal overriding the self pity she’d been feeling. Joel’s eyes meet hers in their reflection and the look of pure adoration and love on his face makes her feel silly for her insecurities.

“Look how fuckin’ gorgeous my wife is,” he tells her, his lips right next to her ear. He kisses just below her earlobe and she tips her head to the side to allow him to nuzzle her neck. She shivers as he sucks her skin, leaving red splotches behind that will surely be purple later.

He hooks his forefingers into the waistband of her leggings (and, simultaneously, her panties) and drags them down around her feet. She steps out of them, kicking them away with the toe of one foot. He straightens up and admires her naked figure in the reflection.

“You see this body, hmm? I love this body.”

He brushes his fingertips up the curves of her hips and the sensation elicits another soft moan from her. He takes her jaw in his hand and turns her head for a kiss, his other hand dipping between her legs teasingly.

“Mm, wet already? And I’ve barely touched you,” he muses. He walks the two of them backwards until the backs of his knees hit the mattress. He sits and scoots back far enough to give her room to situate herself between his legs.

“I want you to watch yourself in the mirror while I play with your pretty pussy, okay?” he instructs. “I want you to see what I see.”

He rests his chin on her shoulder and she meets his eyes in the mirror.

“Look at yourself, not at me.”

Her eyes, which are still puffy from crying, shift back to her own reflection.

“Now, say ‘I’m a pretty girl.’”

She hesitates and he smacks one of her breasts. The action catches her off guard and she gasps, but an unmistakable pang of arousal follows the stinging and she whimpers quietly.

“Say it,” he commands harshly in her ear and this time, she obeys.

“I’m a pretty girl.”

“There’s a good girl,” he praises, now massaging the breast he’s just smacked. Soft, sensual kisses are pressed to her neck as his free hand squeezes the flesh of her inner thigh. “Spread your legs for me now.”

She opens her legs and he begins rubbing her clit slowly, teasingly. Her eyes flutter as pleasure takes over and he whispers a reminder to keep them open in her ear. She lets her eyes focus on her reflection and, to her immense surprise, she kind of likes what she sees. Her mouth is parted to let her breathy moans escape and her pupils are lust blown. Her eyes flit to where Joel is rubbing circles on her clit; his hands are beautiful and watching his long middle finger trace the sensitive bundle of nerves makes her eyes roll back.

“That is actually so hot,” she moans. He grins satisfactorily.

“I know it baby. Got me hard as a rock back here.”

He slides his finger into her slowly and she begs him for another. She attempts to watch as he fingers her in earnest, but her eyes eventually slip closed. It’s hard to keep her focus on the mirror when he’s making her feel so good.

“Keep those eyes open,” he warns. “Don’t wanna miss the best part.”

“S-sorry daddy. It just feels so good.”

“Mm, I can tell. You’re fuckin’ soaked.” He curls his fingers and hits that spot inside her that would’ve made her eyes fly open if they weren’t already glued to the mirror.

“Oh fuck,” she swears breathily. “Please keep going like that.”

He can see on her face that she’s almost at her peak. He brings his other hand to her throat and gives it a light squeeze. She likes how she looks with his hand around her neck and his fingers inside her. It makes her cunt throb that much more.

“Oh god…daddy I’m so close, please don’t stop.”

“Got no intentions on stoppin’,” he says in her ear before nibbling on her earlobe. She feels the pressure building and with just a few more curls of his fingers, the coil snaps.

“Fuck!” she shouts. “I’m cumming…oh my god!”

He removes his fingers and a spray of fluid comes out of her. She squirts so hard that it hits the mirror. Her eyes roll back in spite of the effort she’s putting in to keep them open and her mouth opens in a silent scream. Joel rubs her clit furiously and doesn’t stop until she clamps her thighs around his hand.

“Jesus Christ baby, I love it when you do that,” he tells her before pressing a lingering kiss to her lips. “Did you see how pretty you look when you cum for me?”

She had, briefly. And she had to admit, it was pretty hot.

“Yes daddy,” she answers. She’s a little sheepish as she admits: “I kinda liked it.”

He chuckles at this.

“As you should baby girl.”

He kisses her and she reaches her hand behind her to squeeze the bulge in his sweatpants. He groans and she squeezes him just a little harder.

“Fuck, get on your knees for me,” he says. The two of them shuffle off the bed and she drops to her knees in front of him. He rids himself of his t-shirt and she yanks his sweats down. He’d forgone underwear and his cock springs free when the sweatpants go past his waist. He gathers her hair into a makeshift ponytail in his hand while she teases the tip of his cock. She drags her tongue along the vein that runs on the underside of his shaft and he hisses.

“Don’t fuckin’ tease me woman.”

She smirks, looking up at him and batting her lashes.

“Sorry daddy,” she giggles.

“Don’t let your newfound confidence get ya a punishment, princess,” he warns. Heeding this warning, she wraps her lips around the tip of his cock and takes him in until her nose touches skin.

“Ohhhh yeeeah,” he sighs, gripping her hair just a little tighter. “Love that mouth baby.”

She bobs her head back and forth a few times, pushing him a bit deeper down her throat each time. She gags just a little when he starts fucking her throat, but she’s able to recover.

“God, fuck yeah, swallow my cock baby. You’re so good at this.”

He thrusts forward a few more times before tugging on her hair and making her look up at him.

“What are you?” he demands.

“I’m a pretty girl,” she gasps, voice horse from having his cock in her throat. He taps her lips with his tip and she opens obediently, allowing him to continue fucking her throat. Tears spill down her cheeks as she gags.

“That’s right; and whose pretty girl are you?”

He takes his cock out of her mouth long enough for her to answer, “Yours sir!” before shoving it back in.

“God damn right. Good girl,” he praises as he continues to fuck her face. The ache between her legs becomes too much to bear and she slides a hand between them to play with her clit. Joel doesn’t miss this and he moans at the sight.

“You like getting your throat fucked, huh baby girl?”

She manages to make a sound akin to “uh-huh” and he chuckles through his nose.

“My good fuckin’ slut.”

She gasps for air when he pulls his cock out of her mouth, drool connecting her lips to his tip. He runs his thumb across her puffy bottom lip and smiles at her affectionately.

“Fuck baby, that’s a stunnin’ sight: red swollen lips and tears runnin’ down that pretty face,” he compliments. He bends down and kisses her roughly before helping her to her feet.

“I want you to come sit on my face,” he tells her. This is his favorite position to eat her out in and he insists on giving her multiple orgasms before even considering giving her (or himself) a breather. Not that she’s complaining.

“Don’t you dare hover,” he reminds her as he lies flat on the mattress. She straddles his face and lowers herself onto his outstretched tongue. He wraps his arms around the tops of her thighs, holding her in place as he flicks his tongue over her clit.

“That feels so fucking good,” she moans. Joel’s eyes are glued to her face in anticipation of the moment she falls apart. That moment is going to come sooner rather than later; it only takes about a minute of him swirling his tongue around her clit to make her cum. He doesn’t stop there, cleaning up one orgasm and reveling in the taste while simultaneously leading her to another. He laps at her pussy while she unashamedly rides his face, chasing her next orgasm.

“Oh my g - fuck, please I’m cumming again!”

He moans into her pussy and reaches a hand down to wrap around his cock. He’s so hard he can’t stand it any longer. He strokes himself as she writhes above him, being anything but quiet. She falls forward and grips the headboard to steady herself. Joel sucks on her now swollen clit relentlessly and she orgasms again. He feels an immense satisfaction as she ruts against his face, babbling about how she can’t stop cumming. After three consecutive orgasms, she feels that familiar pressure building and she knows she’s about to soak him down.

“G-gonna squirt,” she manages to warn him. She lifts off his face in enough time to not completely waterboard him with the spray coming out of her. She shouts profanities, her thighs trembling, and she hears the telltale signs of him jacking off furiously.

“God damn princess, you are so fuckin’ sexy,” he compliments through gritted teeth. She collapses onto her back with her legs squeezed together, trying to catch her breath and recover from the intensity of the last several orgasms.

“Are you good?” he asks, panting a bit himself.

“Yeah, I just need a few seconds,” she replies breathlessly. He sits up and rubs her leg soothingly as she recovers. When she’s ready, she relaxes her legs and lets them fall open. He settles between them on his knees and rubs her pussy with the tip of his cock. Her hips jolt upward, clit still sensitive. He does this a few times until she’s rubbing herself on him in desperation.

“Please put it in daddy, I need to feel you inside me,” she whines. He’s as desperate as she is and he fulfills her request without hesitation.

“Fuck baby girl, you’re soakin’ wet. My cock went in so easy. S-so good, so tight, fuck,” he babbles. She loves how vocal he is and it gives her a confidence boost to hear him whimpering because of her pussy.

“You feel how fuckin’ hard I am inside this little cunt baby doll?”

“God yes, you’re stretching me out so good.”

“That’s what you do to me - make me so hard it hurts. Why do you think I’m always pawin’ at ya, huh?”

The way he’s snapping his hips into her renders her unable to answer. All she can provide are pathetic moans, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. She registers a smack across one of her breasts; the sting is delicious but the smack is still enough to get her attention.

“Answer,” he growls.

“Be-because…I - oh fuck - cause I’m a pretty girl,” she manages to answer.

“Atta girl. My beautiful…sexy…fuckin’…bombshell.”

He punctuates each word with a snap of his hips and she cries out each time. He fucks her harder and harder and she knows he’s determined to make her squirt again. She holds her legs back so he can go deeper and he leans in for a sloppy kiss.

“C’mon sugar, squirt all over me. Gimme that fuckin’ cum,” he says into her ear, his voice low and gravelly.

“Now, gonna cum now,” she pants in warning. He pulls out and she explodes, fluid coming out of her like a fountain and splashing against his chest. He rubs her clit with four fingers to prolong her orgasm while she writhes and shouts underneath him.

“Oh yeeeahh” he grits out when a few more spurts of fluid come forth. “Gimme all you got baby girl. Such a pretty little mess for me.”

When her hips still, he spreads her legs open once more and stuffs his cock back inside, going at it full force. He holds her under the crooks of her legs and grunts wildly as he chases his orgasm.

“You ready for my load baby? Daddy’s gonna fill this sweet little pussy so full.”

“Oh god yes, please fill me up daddy! Wanna be so full of you.”

“Oh fuck, here it comes. You’re makin’ me cum so hard,” he moans. He stills and shoots his load inside of her, groaning and rubbing her swollen clit with his thumb. She feels his cock pumping ropes of cum into her and his orgasm lasts for what seems like thirty seconds. When he pulls out, she doesn’t fail to notice he’s still hard. He flips her over on her stomach and pulls her hips back toward him.

“You see baby?” he says as he slides his cock back into her. “I’m still so fuckin’ hard. You make me crazy.”

He gathers her wrists behind her back in one hand and smacks her ass repeatedly with the other. All she can do is whine and whimper while he pounds into her relentlessly.

“Fuck yeah, take this cock. Daddy’s pretty slut,” he mumbles. He reaches forward and grabs a fistful of her hair, pulling slightly as he fucks into her forcefully.

“Who’s it for baby, huh? Who does this little pussy belong to?”

“Y-you daddy, belongs to you.”

“Damn right darlin’.”

Her hands grip the sheets beneath her hard enough to pull them off the corner of the mattress as he brings her to yet another orgasm. She’s lost count of the orgasms at this point.

“Look at how fuckin’ good we look baby,” he grunts, directing her attention to the mirror once more. She looks at their reflection and the sight is erotic. Joel’s body is flush, sweat droplets forming at his hairline. One hand is in her hair, the other gripping her hip. Her breasts bounce with each of his thrusts forward and both of their eyes are wild with lust.

“Oh fuck…so hot,” she moans.

“Yeah? Does my pretty wife like watching herself take daddy’s cock?”

“Yes sir!”

“And you take it so well, too. God, you’re so pretty with me inside.”

“D-daddy,” she whimpers. “I’m gonna cum again.”

“Nu-uh baby, wait for me this time.”

“Daddyyyy,” she whines.

“Don’t you cum until I say so,” he growls. As he chases his orgasm, his thrusts speed up and make it almost impossible for her to obey him.

“Look at me,” he commands. She lifts her eyes and meets his in the mirror and it’s all she can do not to cum right then.

“Please daddy, please! I need to cum, fuck, please!” she begs.

“I know baby, I know. Doin’ so good for me. Just a little longer, you can do it.”

He lets go of her hair and grips both hips so that he can pull her back to meet his thrusts. He can’t stop watching his gorgeous fucking wife take his cock in the mirror. She’s biting her bottom lip, her expression a mixture of pleasure and concentration as she attempts to stave off the orgasm she so desperately wants to have. His cock twitches inside her and she knows that he’s close.

“Cum for daddy now baby. Oh god, let me see you cum.”

She relaxes and lets the coil snap. Her vision goes white as her eyes roll back. She cries out and she hears Joel saying filthy things while he pumps her full of cum again.

“Yeah, that’s right, take this cum. My little cum slut. Fuck, I’m cumming so much.”

When both their orgasms subsided, he pulls out gingerly, his cock sensitive and spent. Her pussy is the same, red and puffy and still throbbing. They both fall onto the mattress, breathing heavily. She flips so that she’s facing him and gives him a soft smile.

“Thank you,” she says. He returns her smile and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“For the confidence boost or the dick?” he jokes. She giggles.

“Both.”

“You always have been, always will be, the most breathtaking woman I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he tells her sincerely. He places his hand on her cheek and kisses her sweetly. “The only thing I can think of that would make you even more beautiful is if you’d let me put a baby in here.”

He pats her stomach and looks at her hopefully. Her face breaks out into a grin.

“You wanna have a baby with me, huh?”

“Yeah, I really do.”

“It’s settled then,” she says, snuggling into him. “We’ll try for a baby.”

#joel miller #joel miller smut #the last of us #tlou hbo #tlou series #tlou smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut

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usedtobecooler · 6 months

Text

tw: angst, self-destructive eddie. happy ending.

eddie munson freaks out and runs away when you show up on the front doorstep of the trailer, a positive pregnancy test in your hand.

he had been so, so careful. taken every precaution necessary to make sure you both never ended up in this situation, yet here he was. sat in the middle of nowhere, head buried in his hands and curled up like a child. he's suddenly five years old again, shut in the closet and covering his ears to muffle the sounds of his mom and dad fighting.

eddie never wanted this. never wanted it for himself, and especially not for you. munsons were fuck-ups, good for nothing - his dad was a piece of shit, and so was his dad, and his dad before him. wayne was the only good one.

eddie had always promised himself that the munson lineage would end with him. the name eradicated from the one-horse town that was hawkins, no other child would ever have to carry the burden of having his name, having the other kids torment them over every rumor and story they were told by their own parents and grandparents.

his childhood was horrific. bullied and used as a punching bag, simply because of his fathers reputation that preceded him. destined to be a fuck up from his first breath, that was all he would ever be. he was never given a chance, a failure before he even had a try.

what good would he be as a father? no job, no prospects, still living under wayne's roof at twenty-six. still drove a piece of shit van that wasn't safe for any kid to step foot in, dustin wasn't even allowed in the damned thing until he turned eighteen.

he'd fucked up. failed you, failed the poor baby inside of you. it eats away at him, rots his insides until the hot tears fall thick and fast, running down his cheeks and into his mouth as he wails into the crevice of his legs, face buried tightly between his knees.

he pulls his hair, yanks it until he feels clumps rip between his fingers. feels the sting in his scalp and pulls harder until he's wincing and crying harder.

it's dark when he pulls his head from between his knees, standing on shaky legs as he tries to make his way out of the woods, back to the park.

you're still sat on the doorstep. a hopeful smile on your face when he collapses in a heap at your feet and apologises until his throat is raw, his face red and stained with tear tracks.

eight months pass by fast.

he runs away again. and again. and again.

apologises every time, stays around and tries to be better, despite how scared he is. prays he won't be a fuckup. talks to his mom every night, begs for her guidance.

she'd of been the best grandma.

you're patient, a fucking saint. this is so hard for you, he's not making it any easier. but you let him fuck up over and over, welcome him back with open arms and that same hopeful smile.

he eventually finds a job in a bodyshop, he really thrives there. saves for a heap of crap car that he fixes himself. you get your own trailer, and suddenly you're closer than ever before.

eddie thinks he's in love.

wayne jr is born in december. it's snowing and he almost drives you off the road speeding to the hospital, as you contract and scream next to him, clinging onto him for dear life.

he's perfect. the boy laying in his arms, peaceful and staring up at him with his mothers eyes, is the most perfect thing he's ever seen.

it's not going to be easy. but eddie has never felt love before like he feels in that room, wrapped in you and his son.

and in that moment, he feels like he can change everything.

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb #my fanfic #mine

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fic-over-cannon · 5 months

Text

Words Left Unsaid

jason todd x f!reader

ao3 link

summary: jason todd is your childhood best friend. he dies before his Words come in, the first words his soulmate will say to him, and you have to pick up the pieces.

tags: soulmate au, major character death (temporary), grief

rated mature | wc: 8.8k

a/n: so this monster of a story was based on an ask i sent to @jasonsmirrorball a while back (don’t read for spoilers). it pretty much took on a life of its own, and now here we are nearly 9k later. it does get pretty dark in its exploration of grief, so please take care of yourselves my lovelies.

Everyone’s born with Words somewhere on their body, unreadable at first. The skin is shiny, like an old scar, the words blurry and undefined. One day, you’ll see the first words you’ll ever hear your soulmate say to you, that shiny patch of skin blooming like ink (there’s superstitions about the colour your Words fade into, as popular as astrology). The trick of the thing is, you won’t find out what your Words are until you’ve become the person who is meant to hear them. You could meet your soulmate a hundred times and not know it, not until you’ve both grown into the people you need to be. The youngest person to get their Words was seven, and the oldest 92 years young. Or so the stories go. When you’re young, still poking at your loose front tooth with your tongue, it’s a story that comforts you. It’s the story you beg your parents for before bed every night. It’s the carrot they use to get you to try new things and go new places. What if you meet your soulmate at the new movie theatre downtown? How do you know eating your veggies won’t develop you into who your soulmate needs you to be?

It’s what your mother uses to try and coax you out of the car for your first day at a new school. She’s driven you to school for your first day, a one off so she can finish up your admittance paperwork. In this moment you hate her for it. It’s February and the year is more than halfway over. The snow has melted into dirty grey slush in the streets and the pinching Mary Janes the school mandates as part of the uniform are going to provide no protection. It’s halfway through the year and you’re certain no one is going to be your friend at a new school in a new city. You’re twelve years old and to you this is the end of the world. You’re trying so hard not to cry, hugging yourself together and burying your chin in your chest.

“Come on, honey, this is a school. It’ll help you become who you need to be.”

Your mother’s voice is cajoling, trying to coax you out the same way she coaxed a stray cat into her arms. It worked on the cat, now named Haley after the comet, but it doesn’t work on you. She tries to catch your eye in the rear view mirror but you stubbornly turn your head to look out the window instead.

“Please. Work with me here. We’ll go in together, you’ll have a wonderful day and make so many friends. And after school, I’ll take you out for donuts and you can tell me all about it before your Dad gets home.”

You keep silent, continue to stare out the window at all the other kids walking into the building.

“Honey, please. Can you just do this one thing for me, please.”

She’s almost begging now, and you hate the way it makes her sound. You want to tell her how scared you are, how there’s nothing more you want to do except huddle under your covers in your unfamiliar bed and hold Haley close. But your fear is a hot ball in your chest, choking off any words that might come out. You look at her though, plead with her with your eyes to understand how much you don’t want to do this. She stares back at you, an exhausted slump to her shoulders and lines around her eyes you don’t remember being there. Slowly, you unwrap your arms from around your rib cage. Place a hand on each knobbly knee and slowly curl them into fists before nodding, once, sharply, eyes firmly fixed on the car seat in front of you. Your eyes burn, but the sigh of relief your mother heaves out is worth it.

Gotham Academy is housed in a collection of gothic stone buildings which should have been strange in a large city like Gotham but weirdly works. You just think it’s creepy. Head down, you follow your mother’s back weaving through the crowds of students. You don’t want to see the stares, but you can already feel them boring into you. Sitting in the secretary’s office, you pick at invisible lint on your knitted tights. You know your mother’s having a conversation with the secretary but it all flies over your head in shushing murmurs. Your back aches from the overstuffed chair. The Mary Janes do pinch, makes you worried that you’ve already twisted your ankles from the way they throb.

“I’ve got to get to work now sweet pea, but I just now you’re going to have a great first day. I’ll pick you up at 4:00 and we can go get those donuts okay?”

Your mother’s crouched down in front of you, eyes searching your face for any kind of reaction. She looks worried and that’s what causes you to crack. You fling yourself out of the chair and into her arms, allow yourself one great heaving sob into her shoulder. She strokes your hair and hushes you, squeezes you tight like she could make you part of her.

“Oh honey. Everything’s scary right now but I promise it’s not going to stay that way. I believe in you and you’re going to get through this.”

You draw back from her, scrub at your face with your fists. Heaving breaths don’t help but they don’t make it worse. You go with the secretary, new schedule twisted tight in your hands. She lets you discard your coat and backpack in a locker, before walking you to your new homeroom. You only hope that you’ll remember the locker combination.

You hate the way your new homeroom teacher makes you stand at the front of the room. Mr. Mulligan won’t let you sit down until you introduce yourself to the class, a thing he could have done so easily himself. Pulling at your sleeves and trying not to make eye contact with anyone, you stutter out a few basic facts. Hate the way you can feel the other students catalogue you, the way your hair doesn’t look shiny and straight like its fresh out of a salon, your too small shoes, the unfashionably long length of your skirt and the lack of designer accessories. Your cheeks and eyes are burning by the time you can slide down into your assigned seat near the back of the class. There’s only one other person sitting in your row, a boy with dark curling hair and a shy grin. He leans over to your desk just Mr. Mulligan starts the lecture.

Whispers, “Hi! My name’s Jason. I already know your name, figured if we’re going to be seat mates its only fair you know mine.”

You smile tightly and turn back to the lesson. You’re desperate not to miss anything, already feeling like you’ve been left behind. At your old school, you were in the middle of The Great Gatsby, but Gotham Academy is doing Romeo and Juliet for their seventh grade English class. You don’t have the play book, have no idea what part of the text they’re talking about, and this is the first time you’ve actually heard Shakespeare read out loud. Writing as fast you can, you try to keep up but it doesn’t matter how good your notes are if you don’t understand what the teacher’s talking about.

Usually you love English class, how uncovering symbolism and hidden meanings make you feel like you’re uncovering secret messages sent by the authors years in the past. Now it’s all going over your head and you hate it here so much already. The one class that you might have been looking forward to and you’re overwhelmed by it. You press too hard with your pencil, tear through the sheet of paper in front of you.

A notebook slides across your desk. Messy but legible writing on the first few scenes of the Act are written on it. Looking in the direction it came from, you make eye contact with Jason. He grins toothily before turning back to the front, Mr. Mulligan having moved on to a different quotation. The gesture makes your chest tight.

The rest of the class goes by uneventfully if still a challenge. There’s a short break between classes in which you frantically copy down the notes and slide the notebook back to him before your next teacher arrives. The next class isn’t so bad, still difficult and you’ve never liked math as much as you probably should, but it’s less intimidating than English. Someone must have fiddled with the thermostat during the break because the room feels colder than before. You wish you were on your old school’s schedule with shorter classes and more breaks. Sitting still for so long at your desk is making your back ache and cramp up. Math is almost over, Miss Lewis writing out the assigned homework on the board, when a wave of something comes over you. It’s an effort of will not to curl up on your desk.

The bell rings for lunch break and you just about bolt to the first bathroom you can find. Something’s wrong with you, more than just nerves over the first day. You’re cold but you’re sweating, nausea burning at the back of your throat. The ache in your back and stomach are almost unbearable, makes you want to curl into the fetal position to ward off invisible blows. Rolling down your tights in a hurry, you sit down on the cold toilet as fast as you can. Your hand is wet, and for a moment you worry that you’d lost control of your bladder on the way to the bathroom. But the stain on your hand is dark, matches the blood slick crotch of your panties. You hang your head and can feel the tears you’ve been holding onto all morning drop onto the floor. Just another thing you can’t control in this shitty new town and its stupid new school. Your first period.

The bathroom is cold, hard tile under your feet and wintery sunlight weak through the windows near the ceiling. The blood on your fingers is cold and tacky now. There’s a boundary here, between childhood and being an adult that you aren’t ready to cross yet. I want my mom, you think, only on the edge of hysteria. But she’s at work, wouldn’t be able to come if you called.

So you do what needs to be done, stop your tears as best as you can and sniffle. Wipe your face clean with the back of your sleeve and do your best to dab at your underwear with the single ply toilet paper. Layer sheets of toilet paper between your tights and underwear, build a makeshift pad in your sort-of dry underwear out of toilet paper and hope that it will hold up. Luckily you’ve escaped staining the regulation uniform skirt, so no one should be able to tell what happened. You get transfixed by the swirls of blood washing down the sink drain, hands gone numb under the stream of water. Splash cold water on your face in the vain hope it’ll calm down your puffy eyes. As ready as you can be in this situation, you eye yourself in the mirror and tell yourself to get moving before the bell for third period rings.

The boy from the back row is waiting outside the classroom for you. He looks nervous until he sees you, lights up with that shy smile again.

“Hi! I uh noticed you weren’t at lunch today so I grabbed you an apple in case you didn’t grab anything to eat.”

He’s babbling on about the cafeteria food not being that bad if you’d just try it, even though finding a table the first time can be rough. All you can do is stare at the apple in his hands, transfixed. You’re only shaken out of your stupor by the sound of him calling your name.

“So… are you going to take it? The bell’s going to ring soon and the teachers really don’t like us eating during class.”

“Thank you,” you say, genuinely shocked and touched.

He goes a little bashful at that, looks away as you take the apple from him. The apple’s good, sweet and crisp under your teeth. You make quick work of it in the hallway, finishing it up just as the bell rings. Jason stands right in front of you the whole time, hides you from the penetrating eyes of your classmates.

“All done? We should probably find our seats now. Monty,” and here he adopts a snooty British accent, “Archibald the Third is a real stickler for being on time. He’ll mark you late if you’re not sitting in your seat, even if you’re in the classroom.”

His impression makes you snicker and forget, just for a moment, how miserable you are. Mr. Archibald the Third is just as ridiculous as Jason’s impression of him predicted, but you get through it by making eye contact with Jason over the most ridiculous moments. Mr. Archibald really does have you call him “the Third”. It’s probably got something to do with his Words, a flowing script running vertically down the side of his face reading, “The Third, dear God how many of you are there?”. History with Mr. Archibald manages to be fun despite his absurd demeanor and your own private hurt seeming less terrible for a few scattered moments.

The final class of the day drags on, the pain in your front and back growing. Your hand moves across the page but your mind isn’t really paying attention. There’s a commotion as people gather their things and stand, already streaming out the door. You blink, stupefied, then slowly gather your things.

“Same time, same place tomorrow then?”

“—Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow Jason.”

Your mother’s waiting for you in front of the school, car idling puffs of smoke into the darkening afternoon. Your backpack lands in the back seat and you crush your face into her coat across the console. Her hands come to your back, patting and rubbing circles until your breath comes in long, even draws.

“Honey I’m so proud of you. Your first day done! Let’s go celebrate, hmm? How was it? Did you make any new friends?”

“Can we get the donuts to go? I— uh, um I— I might have started my period today?”

Your voice lifts on the end of the sentence, suddenly absurdly worried about her reaction. You needn’t have worried though.

“Oh sweet pea, on your first day too? We can go home, get you a bath and something for your cramps.”

“No, I just really want to go get donuts with you because today kind of sucked and I’ll still feel kinda shitty but at least then I get donuts while I feel bad.”

“No more swearing and we’ll get a whole box to go, okay?”

Lying in bed that night, wrapped around a hot water bottle with Haley on your feet, you think that your day wasn’t that bad. It could have been a lot worse, and Jason was surprisingly nice. You stare at the shiny patch of skin on your wrist and hope that one day it will all be worth it. You drift off to the thought of blue eyes.

For the rest of that week you join Jason at his corner in the cafeteria. Between Math and History you slowly start to get to know one another. He offers to let you borrow his notes for the upcoming test in English, gets a little sheepish when he mentions that he practically knows the content by heart anyway. Jason’s sweet and funny and by Friday you two are the best of friends.

Once your mother is confident that you can handle the commute to school on your own, she doesn’t mind if you’re home late as long as you send a text first. Something about socializing with more kids your age being good for you, not that you’re listening too distracted in the haze of victory. So the two of you hang out after school, the city your shared playground. Jason treats you to your first chili dog and laughs when you get some on your nose. In revenge, you dare him to cover his lunch in chili oil at lunch the next day. The way Mr. Archibald threatens you both with detention for being disruptive is so worth it.

It’s not until the middle of April that you get the courage to ask Jason why you. Why out of everyone in the school he chose to reach out to the new kid and make her his friend. It’s probably the most personal thing you’ve asked him yet.

“It’s ‘cause no one else would’ve. Most of the kids here, their families founded Gotham and they’re not keen on outsiders. Most of the scholarship kids, they start at the same time, form a group so the rich kids don’t pick on them so much.” He pauses here, has to look away before he goes on. “Most of the others don’t like me ‘cause I don’t really fit into either category, you know? Like my dad’s a big name in Gotham but he only just adopted me so I’m not really one the rich kids but he’s doing more than just paying my school fees. You looked just as lonely as I was,” here he turns to grin, “and I wasn’t going to give up an opportunity to make someone carry my lunch tray.”

“Hey, idiot, if I remember right it was you bringing me lunch the first time.” You shove at him indignantly, but he dodges too quickly for you.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can’t remember, on account of me being an idiot.” He flicks you on the tip of the nose and goes running.

And then it’s on. You chase him around the park, laughing and swearing to get your revenge on him. The two of you collapse breathlessly onto a mostly dry patch of dirt under a skeletal tree. Staring up at the sky and trying to catch your breath, you feel Jason nudge at your should beside you.

“So what about you? What brought you to the happiest place on earth?”

“My dad got headhunted for a promotion. He’s researching something for Wayne Industries and all of us had to move here for it. So mom gets a new job and I get transferred to a new school.” You sit up suddenly, look down at Jason lying in the grass. “Promise not to tell anyone?” You wait for him to nod first before continuing. “I only got into Gotham Academy because of my dad. I heard him and my mom arguing about it; he made it part of his contract that I’d get to go to school there if he accepted the job.”

“So? I’m only at GA because of my dad too. You think a kid from Crime Alley gets to go to private school without a little nepotism?”

You slump back down on to the grass, stretch a hand out to the sky and look up at it.

“To nepotism I guess.”

A hand reaches up to the sky next to yours. Slowly, ever so slowly he reaches a pinky out and links it with yours.

“To two misfits only here because of nepotism.”

School lets out in June, the city air ridiculously hot and humid. You can’t say that you’ve made any good friends outside of Jason, but there’s some girls you say hello to in the halls. You mourn not being able to see Jason everyday, but the plans you have to meet up are enough to soothe the ache.

He takes you to an arcade first, the two of you spending hours trying to beat each other at Pac Man. Tired but happy you split a basket of fries at the attached cafeteria. You’re enjoying the greasy fried goodness of the snack but you notice Jason isn’t reaching for the basket as quickly as you are. Looking over at him, you notice him staring at a pair of brothers playing a game. The younger whoops, jumps up and down in excitement. The older one ruffles his brother’s hair and challenges him to a new round. You toss a fry in Jason’s direction, surprised when he actually manages to catch it.

“You good?”

“—Yeah. It’s just, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it? But I kind of have an older brother and he was supposed to take me to the arcade last weekend but he got in a fight with Dad and just left.”

“That’s a real dick move, ditching you over his issues.” At that, Jason breaks out in hysterical laughter, almost choking on the fry in his mouth. There are tears in his eyes by the time he stops coughing but he looks slightly less like a kicked puppy.

“It really, really was. You don’t know how much it was.”

Happy that the mood has lifted, the two of you finish off the basket of fries. You challenge Jason to Dance Dance Revolution and he wipes the floor with you. He’s way more athletic than you’d expected from him. The two of you part ways happy, already planning your next hang out. It is enough.

You meet up almost every week that summer. Jason shows you the Gotham he knows, little hidden gems only locals know about. A movie theatre that only shows movies made before 1980, a diner with the best milkshakes you’ve ever tasted, the best places in the public library to read undisturbed. Teaches you about the safest places to evacuate when disaster hits, which parts of the city are most dangerous. The park and its chili dog stand quickly become a favourite for you, a place to just hang out without any responsibilities. It also becomes a kind of confessional of sorts, where you end up telling each other your worst fears and secret hopes.

You confess once, after riding out your first Rogue attack with your fingers buried in Jason’s T-shirt, that you’re worried you’ll never feel at home again. That you can never go back now to your old house and feel at home there now, but that Gotham still feels too alien to be called home yet. Your darkest fear, that you’ll end up alone one day, deserted by everyone that you know and love. Jason tells you about his fears that one day all of this, Bruce and Alfred, the manor, school, will disappear one day. That the big brother he looks up to will never start to like him. Every time the two of you bare your souls to each other, Jason will hook his pinky over yours and squeeze. It’s a friendship built on shared secrets, on fears assuaged, and worries made better.

Your last year of middle school is largely uneventful. You got to classes, have lunch with Jason, hang out after class with Jason, text Jason. You get into a routine and that brings you comfort. There’s a slight period of awkwardness right before the 8th grade formal. A weird tension envelopes you both, the nebulous question of if you’re going together hanging over you. You don’t like it, the way Jason seems almost hesitant in all your conversations these days. It sets your teeth to itching and you can’t stand it anymore.

Slamming down your textbook, you say “Okay that’s it. I can’t stand whatever this is. You and I are going to the formal as friends. We’ll get all dressed up and if it’s lame we can ditch and go get Batburgers.”

“Oh thank God. I didn’t want to say anything in case it made it awkward but then it was just getting more awkward and then I just didn’t know what to do.”

The party is lame, but the burgers make up for it. Your dress is nice though. Your mother helped you pick it out, the fitted bodice and loose swing of the skirt making you feel passably pretty. It’s been hard to feel pretty with the way your body’s changed over the year, hips widening and chest starting to grow in ways you can’t predict. Jason cleans up nice, though whoever slicked back his hair went overboard on the gel. You pose for a picture all dressed up together, faces pulled into silly expressions, your burgers held in front of you like trophies. You pin a copy of the photo up in your bedroom. It makes you smile every time you see it, something warm in your chest.

The first day of high school brings back those first day jitters. You’re not even transferring schools, just switching to a different building and still your palms are sweating. It’s not until you see Jason, sitting in the back row with an empty seat behind him that you can release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. It’s different teachers and different subjects, but in some ways it’s like the day you met again. Scribbling notes until your hands cramp, Jason passing you notes in class, struggling to keep up with what the teachers are saying. At lunch, you and Jason even split an apple between you. It’s terrifying and familiar and all the more bearable because you aren’t going through it alone.

High school is different. Everyone’s more aware of each other in ways they weren’t in middle school. Girls wear brighter lip glosses and flaunt the shiny spaces where their marks will come in. Boys douse themselves in too much body spray and start eyeing up anything that moves. But through out it all, your friendship remains the same. Something about high school solidifies things, has you go from You and Jason to YouandJason. At school you’re a unit, almost impossible to think of you as separate beings. After school, you still spend time together, still explore the city, still message all the time. But you’ve still never been to each other’s houses. Never met each other’s families yet.

Jason offers, once, to have you over to the manor during the winter break, but you’re not keen on it. Crinkle up your nose and ask to think about it.

“It’s not that I don’t want to see you over the holiday, or meet your family Jason. It’s just that I kind of like the way things are? My family knows that you’re my best friend, they’ve seen pictures of us, but the way things are now, you’re still entirely mine. Our friendship’s just for us. Meeting your family kind of changes that.”

“I like us being us. But would it really be that different to come hang out for a few hours? You could come over when Dad’s out and it’d just be me and Alfred.”

Eventually you agree, spend an afternoon with Jason at the manor to cram for your next round of tests. Mr. Pennyworth is lovely, keeps bringing snacks up to the library as an excuse to check up on you. Bent over your books, you miss the significant looks Alfred is sending Jason over your head and the blush that lights up his face in response. Mr. Wayne is thankfully not home. You’re not sure you could have handled meeting Jason’s grandfather and father in the same visit.

Jason makes it over to your apartment a few times over the spring semester. Your father’s always working, but your mother likes him well enough. She makes him stay over for dinner, won’t let him leave without feeding him first. She calls him a nice boy and tells him to come back any time. Still, you two prefer going out to coffee shops or the library to hang out, uninterrupted by well-meaning adults.

It’s on one of those summer nights, the two of you some of the last people in the public library, that the subject of your Words comes up. The skin across your left wrist catches the warm light of the lamps in a way that’s distracting. You’re startled by the feeling of fingers tracing featherlight over still-shiny skin.

“You ever wonder it about it sometimes? What it’ll say or who’ll say it?” The tone is unreadable but Jason’s voice is above the whisper he usually uses in the library, but with so few people around you figure there’s no harm in mimicking his volume.

“I used to. I was obsessed with Words when I was little. Couldn’t go to sleep without hearing about them as a bed time story.”

“Used to?” And Jason’s fingers are still there, drawing maddening little patterns across the thin skin of your wrist.

“Well, I’ve got other things to think about now, things that are actually within my control.”

Jason presses down, gently, with the broad of his thumb on your pulse. You snatch back your wrist, cradle it to your chest, uncertain of how intimate that gesture felt.

“Fair’s fair. I showed you mine, now you’ve gotta show me yours.” Your tone is teasing, trying to capture the earlier lightness of the afternoon.

“Oh I do, do I?”

He reaches for the top button on his uniform button down, starts undoing two more. Horrified, you reach across the table and grab at his hands.

“What are you doing?! You can’t just go around stripping in public!” Your hissed whisper may not have been said at all for all the impact it makes. Jason shakes off your hands and goes back to undoing his shirt.

“Not all of us are blessed with easily accessible Words. Relax, I just have to get the shirt wide enough to show how far the Words will go.”

Across his collarbone is a thin strip of shiny skin, reaching from one side of his neck to the other like a necklace. Whatever it will say looks pretty lengthy for someone’s Words. Mesmerized, you reach out to trace it with your fingertips. Jason shifts back before you can make contact.

“Gotta buy me dinner first sweetheart. I’m a classy lady like that.”

You flush at the term of endearment, but cover it with indignation.

“Hey! What do you call the tacos I bought for us yesterday?”

He laughs it off and the tense moment is broken. You pack up your things, smiling at the ground. You like the way sweetheart sounds coming from Jason, not that you’d give him that to tease you with. Despite how much you tell each other, there’s one secret you haven’t told him yet. That privately you hope your Words will be his. It’s so easy to fall in love with Jason, or at least what passes for love at this age. The light in his eyes when he rants about the latest book he’s read, when he shares the biscuits Alfred packs for him, the way he listens to you so intently even if he doesn’t have all the answers. You can admit to yourself that you’re hopelessly in love with your best friend, but never out loud. Your friendship is one of the most important things in your life and you are terrified of destroying it.

You don’t see Jason much after that, that summer. Your texts and calls still get answered, but he’s frustratingly vague about meeting up. He says that his dad has him in a kind of summer school, wants him to learn from private tutors before school starts up in the Fall again. Asking about what it is that he’s supposed to learn (his marks are already incredibly good) makes him cagey about it. You don’t want to push, but it feels like he’s pulling away from you. Phone calls get shorter, sentences more clipped. Your offers to just drop by the manor to see him get turned down automatically. It’s the longest you’ve gone without seeing him since you’ve met. You’re terrified that he’s done with you. That for some unnameable reason he’s decided to end your years of friendship and there’s nothing you can do to stop it from happening. Gotham seems colder without Jason at your side, the dangers more obvious and your usual haunts less welcoming.

Finally, after nearly two months you manage to pin him down, get him to agree to meet the day after his birthday. Your heart is in your mouth as you wait for him on a bench in the park. There’s a trickle of sweat running down your back. It’s a hot day but the park is a lush green, an after effect from an Ivy attack the night before. You release your grip on your present for Jason, smooth the envelope and hope you didn’t crease it with your sweaty fingers. A voice is calling your name.

Jason’s been changed by the weeks apart. He’s a few inches taller now, filled out in the shoulders more. You have to crane your neck back to see his face. The anxiety in you is reflected in his face, the way he nervously runs his fingers through his hair, his darting eyes. Uncertain how to proceed, you thrust the envelope out between you.

“Happy Birthday.”

“I— thank you.”

There’s silence again, and the awkwardness between you is a tangible thing. It’s worse than it was in eighth grade only this time you don’t know how to bridge the gap. You look down at your shoes, the toes scuffed.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you.” It comes out of him in a rush. “I’ve been a really shitty friend lately. Just, all summer my dad’s been on me about studying with these private tutors except they’re all friends with Dick so nothing I do can ever be good enough in comparison and every day I’ve felt like crap but I didn’t want you to see me like this which only made me feel worse ‘cause then I basically had to avoid you all the time which is the exact opposite of what I wanted to do and all I wanted to do was have you tell me there’s nothing wrong with me and they can all go kick dirt but then I’d have to talk to you about it which I wasn’t ‘cause I was already embarrassed.” He has to pause here to catch his breath, words running together at the speed which he was going.

“You planning to breathe any time soon?”

He deflates, collapses onto the bench next to you, an arm tucked around his right side awkwardly holding the card so it doesn’t get crushed. You sigh, heavily.

“I thought you didn’t want to be friends anymore.” Your confession is barely above a whisper. You can’t even look at him as you say it.

“I didn’t— I wouldn’t. I need you to know that I never, ever don’t want to be your friend okay? I was an idiot. I’m sorry.”

“Promise not to cut me out again and that you won’t take out your own issues on our friendship, and maybe I’ll consider forgiving you.”

“Pinky promise.”

Jason places the card in his lap, goes to link your fingers together, then winces at the movement of his arm. Suddenly sirens are going off in your brain.

“What’s wrong with your side?”

“Nothing, must have just pulled a muscle or something.” He tries to laugh it off nervously, but you can tell when he’s lying. His eyes dart to the left over your head, knee bounces almost imperceptibly. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you know he’s not telling you the truth.

“You can’t even go a full minute without cutting me out! Jason, I know something is wrong. Now tell me.”

He hesitates, and you’ve had it with the lies and the avoidance and the being kept in the dark. You fingers go to the hem of his shirt and you start tugging.

“Hey! Wh-what are you doing?”

He tries to squirm away, batting at your hands but you get his shirt up far enough to see the bruise on his ribs in the shape of a boot. It’s purple going a sickly yellow, mottled and stark against the dips of his ribs. You can feel all the blood drain from your face. Jason’s pushed up against the far side of the bench, pulling his shirt down with shaking hands.

“Jason. Jason if someone is hurting you, you need to tell someone. If it's your dad or one of the tutors, we can find someone to tell together.”

“No one— no one’s hurting me, all right? I just didn’t get out of the way fast enough during a Rogue attack. I didn’t want to worry you, that’s all. No one’s abusing me, okay?”

“But you’d tell me if they were?”

“I tell you everything important.”

It’s not enough, not nearly for you. From the look in his eyes Jason knows this too, but its all he’s willing to give. There’s a crossroads in your relationship here, a road where you push and push until you get the full story but shatter the tattered strands of your friendship or you accept that you’ll never have all of Jason but maybe your friendship will survive. So you do what needs to be done.

“Okay. If you say that’s what happened then I trust you.”

It’s a low blow, to twist your trust in him like a knife, but it’s your only way to express your frustration with him. You gesture to the envelope, fishing around to change the subject.

“So you going to open that or what?”

And just like that, there’s a new normal. You see Jason everyday in class but he begs off your after school hangouts as often as you two actually spend time together. Conversation is stilted, hidden undercurrents to them of subjects neither one of you wants to address. You’re wary, suspicious of every bump and bruise Jason shows up with. The ease to your friendship has gone, disappeared to the realm of the past.

At the end of October, Jason becomes obsessed with the news. Keeps checking headlines and obituaries, fearful like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. The death of Felipe Garzonas makes the news and the tension in Jason ratchets up. He’s irritable, stops paying attention in classes, blows up when you try to feel out what’s wrong. He’s apologetic every time, promises it won’t happen again until you eventually stop trying to ask questions. Hope that your presence is enough to steady him through whatever it is that is tormenting him.

He asks you once, if you’d believe in his word, no matter what the evidence of something told you otherwise. You tell him you would, always, but that answer doesn’t seem to make a difference.

Winter break comes and goes, without an invitation to visit this time. If anything, Jason comes back more irritable and closed lipped. Mutters something about a fight over Christmas dinner, his brother and Bruce clashing over something. You’re worried about him all the time now. He’s more reckless with himself, won’t look before crossing the road, reacts aggressively to every perceived challenge, throws things when he gets frustrated. He’s changing into someone you don’t recognize in front of your eyes.

April comes and there’s a new light in his eyes. It’s manic and hopeful and the first emotion you’ve seen in him other than fear in months. He won’t tell you what it is, just that there’s something new he’s found out, something about his mother. This time you hope, fingers crossed and a wish on every star that whatever has brought him this hope won’t hurt him.

On Monday, Jason doesn’t come to school. He doesn’t answer your messages or pick up any of your calls. Even when he’s been out sick he at least lets you know. On Tuesday you get called into the office in the middle of first period. You haven’t been back to the secretary’s office since the day you enrolled. The seats are still as overstuffed as you remember. The secretary is the same, a few more grey streaks in her perfectly set hair. Her eyes are red, and she’s got one of those old fashioned handkerchiefs in her hands.

“I’ve got some bad news honey, and I— I think it would be best if you sit down for it.”

“Oh— will this take long? Only I got pulled out of class and we’re reviewing for the exam next week.”

“Oh honey.” She has to pause to dab at her eyes before continuing. “You’re going to be excused from all exams next week, okay? I need you to know that the school will do whatever we can to support you through this.”

Now, now you are scared. “Support me through what? It’s not my mom is it?”

“Honey it’s Jason, Jason Todd. I’m so sorry but he passed away yesterday. I’ve contacted your parents and your mother is on the way to come pick you up.”

Her words don’t make any sense.

“But he can’t be. I saw him on Saturday. There’s been a mistake. He’s not dead.” Your legs don’t work anymore and you hit the couch, hard, sliding off the overstuffed pillows to kneel on the floor. You don’t feel any of it. There’s copper in your mouth, you must have bitten your tongue on the way down but you can’t feel it. There’s movement in your peripheries, and your mother crouches down into your field of vision.

“Mom, mom they made a mistake. She’s— she’s saying that Jason’s dead, but he can’t be. Mom he’s not dead.”

“Sweet pea, I’m so, so sorry. It’s been on the news all morning.”

It rips through you then, grief. Sobs shake your whole body, your mother doing her best to hold you together. There’s a roaring in your ears like you’re caught in a vacuum. You can’t see through the tears. Your body is trembling violently and you can’t care enough to try and stop it. Nothing matters anymore. Jason’s dead.

To get to the car, your mother has to half carry you. There’s no point in moving. You’re not sure how you end up in your bed at home but you do. You don’t sleep but you aren’t really awake either. The tears don’t stop coming. You’re nothing but an open wound, not even really a whole person. The world’s burned down to ash and you’re just floating through it. You know your parents come in to talk to you, can hear the murmur of their voices but you don’t care. There’s food put in front of you but it holds no interest to you. You might have had sips of water, maybe some broth but you don’t remember and you don’t care. The only thing you really register is Haley, nestling up to you and making biscuits with his paws in your blankets.

Jason’s funeral is on Friday and you can’t get out of bed to go. Jason’s not in that coffin, not really. He won’t be there and so you won’t be. Jason’s never coming home. Jason’s dead, Jason’s dead, Jason’s dead plays on a loop. You never got to tell him. He died without knowing you loved him. His death has ripped you open like nothing ever has before, regret a constant salt in the wound. He never told you that he was thinking of leaving, of going anywhere. It feels wrong at this point, to interrupt his family in their grief, another stranger claiming to have known their son. After all, how well did you really know him if you didn’t even know he was going to leave?

Grief swallows you whole, but over time you learn to live with it. Days blur together. The tears dry up but the not caring doesn’t. Inside of your head is a wall, separating you from the reality of a world without Jason. You’re wrapped in wool and safe behind glass, unable to care about anything. It’s easier that way.

The school passes you for the year, citing personal tragedy, and you don’t care. Summer comes and the only difference is that your mother comes in and throws your windows open every morning. It’s Jason’s birthday soon, too soon. He’ll never be sixteen but you will be. He’ll never have his Words come in. He’ll never get the chance to do all the things he talked about, make Gotham a better place, travel the world. But you can.

It makes no sense to live for a dead boy but it’s all you’ve got. So you do what you have to do. It gets you to leave your bed for the first time in months. To start eating again, even if there’s no taste to the food in your mouth. To shower and take care of yourself for the first time in ages. Your room is clean for the first time in months and the first thing you do is take down your photograph from the 8th grade formal and put it away in a desk drawer.

By September, you have gathered yourself enough to return to school despite the worried looks of your family. It is hard, the hardest thing you have ever done but you do it for the boy that will never graduate high school. You sit by yourself at your desk, you eat lunch by yourself, you go straight home after class without any detours. The school play this year is Romeo and Juliet. You take home the sign up flyer and consider it, hard. In the end you decide to leave it. Jason may have always wanted to try out for the play but you won’t survive torturing yourself with this. On opening night you tell your parents you’re going to see it and get drunk on the gymnasium roof.

You make it through your last two years of high school a ghost. Administration tries to pressure you into meeting with a therapist but you refuse. You don’t want to experience your grief at all. Numbness is the only way you are going to survive this, your new reality. You do take them up on their suggestion of volunteering. Working with the Martha Wayne Foundation for Underprivileged Children gives you a sense of purpose. Of helping other Crime Alley kids without the benefit of nepotism to get them into places like Gotham Academy. It stokes the first emotion in you other than numbness, and that’s rage for all the ways in which these kids have been failed.

You accept a full scholarship to Gotham University. Your parents couldn’t be more proud of your achievement but you can barely muster the energy to smile. Keep up the volunteer work while rushing through your degree in two years instead of four. With nothing else to drive you, you’ve got nothing but time for school. The Martha Wayne Foundation offers you a position in fundraising, and you accept. It’s not what you envisioned for yourself, but it’s a path forward with purpose.

You move out, into your own apartment in an area that’s probably too dangerous for a girl of your age but you can’t stand to be at home anymore. The job consumes your life and you are grateful for it. It’s important work, even if some of the policy meetings on accepting donations from the Red Hood make you want to fall asleep. You make use of your Gotham Prep connections, rubbing elbows with the rich for just as long as it takes to pry open their wallets. It’s ridiculous but the higher ups trot you out to entertain at fundraising events, a pretty young face to pull in more donors. Occasionally you see Bruce, or Dick, or the newest ward Tim at functions, always across the room before you quickly excuse yourself. The numbness carries you through your life but there are limits to it and you’re not eager to test them.

Even five years later, you can’t go back to the park. You’ve never had another chili dog, though you’ll hire the vendor to cater community events. You’ve worked your way back into the public library, but still avoid the alcove on the second floor in the encyclopedia section. There’s a handful of arcade tokens in a plastic bag in your apartment still unused. Batburger is still your favourite, but you still can’t set foot in the location nearest to the Academy.

You keep yourself so busy that when your Words come in, “I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t know…”, you barely give it a thought, just pulling the cuff of your shirt lower to cover your wrist. Carry on with the rest of your morning routine and head into the office. From that point on, your sleeves are always long and your gala outfits gain elbow length opera gloves. You never bother trying to read the rest of it. It doesn’t matter anymore.

It’s a cold February morning. The bus broke down two stops from the office and now you have to walk the rest of the way in the snow. Standing at a crosswalk waiting for the light to change, you pass the time by scanning the headlines on the nearest newsstand. “Lost Wayne son found alive” screams out at you, tearing into your heart bloody. You lose grip of your work bag, but manage not to lose your mind in the street. Picking your bag up out of the slush, you run into the nearest bodega bathroom and lock the door with trembling hands. Shove a fist into your mouth and scream as the tears pour down your face. You’re shaking, worse than you were all those years ago. Snot blocks your nose and you have to stop screaming to breathe. So you do what needs to be done. Fumbling with your coat pocket, you pull out your phone and call the office, call out sick. It’s the only time you’ve done it in all the time your supervisor has known you but the tremor in your voice and frequent sniffles must alarm her enough.

In a fog, you somehow make it from the bodega bathroom to the front gate of Wayne manor. It doesn’t look like it’s changed at all since your last visit over five years ago, except for the heaving mass of press. You circle round the property and enter through the bushes, the way Jason showed you years ago on a tour of the property. You slip on the snow, fall to your knees but get back up. This is the only thing that matters now. The back door has an elaborate knocker that takes both of your hands to lift. It takes what feels like ages for someone to answer the door. It’s poor Mr. Pennyworth, looking more ruffled than you’ve ever seen him. You’re indescribably rude to the poor man, pushing right past him and into the building. Only one thing matters now and your vision has narrowed out anything outside of achieving your goal.

There’s voices coming from somewhere inside, up the stairs and in the direction of the library. A hand, probably Mr. Pennyworth’s, tries to grab at your wrist but you’re too quick for that. You’re running now, clutching at the bannister as though it will pull you up the stairs faster. A shout from behind and the tone of the voices change, a door slamming in the distance. Finally, finally you reach the library but a body tries to come between you, stopping you in your tracks. Years of grief, anger, and battered hope come roaring through you at the thought of being denied seeing Jason, alive after all this time.

Your voice when it leaves you is dangerously low. “Dick, I presume? You don’t know me, and I’ve heard very little about you from Jason and what I did hear I didn’t like. I’m going to make this simple.” The door behind him cracks open, but you soldier on anyway. “Jason Todd was my best friend and first love.” The body stiffens, but that doesn’t matter in this moment. “You are going to step aside and-” anything else doesn’t matter because a door is thrown open and there is Jason.

Eyes wild, a good deal older and more scarred than before, but he’s alive. And then nothing else matters but the feel of his arms warm around you, the imprint of his jacket on your face, the smell of him largely unchanged. He’s alive and he’s real and you can touch him. You draw back to look at him, drink in the sharpened angle of his jaw, the blue-green of his eyes, the white streak in his hair. He’s grown taller and broader than he had over that wretched summer so many years ago. What catches your eye is the writing at the hollow of his throat, a stark black spreading across his collarbones exposed by the v of his t-shirt. Jason Todd was my best friend and first love, it reads.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart, I didn’t know you felt the same.” He says and your wrist starts to burn.

#jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #red hood x you #red hood x reader #jason todd fic #jason todd imagine #jason todd #soulmate au #tw grief #sunnie writes 🌻

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redhoodinternaldialectical · 5 months

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It's quite important to me that Jason and Bruce's conflict is not a misunderstanding.

I truly believe that if each of them had perfect omniscient knowledge of every detail of what happened surrounding Jason's death, not only would they still have conflict, but they would still have the SAME conflict. Neither the question nor the answer of Under the Red Hood's climax would change.

Sheila's betrayal is often known about in canon (frankly there is no way anyone but Jason should know; it is deeply unclear to me why comics allow others to be aware of this) and it does nothing to change anything.

Bruce's one off attempt to kill the Joker at most changes a few lines during Jason's plea to let him kill him ("Please! I know you wanted to, I know you tried to once, what changed? Did you forget about me? Did you stop caring? Did you fucking well forgive?! You for whom vengeance is your only life?")

Learning about the people Jason saved doesn't do much to assuage Bruce's horror at what Jason has become ("Each life is precious, unique, irreplaceable. It does not absolve him.")

Learning exactly what was done to mourn him modifies the depth and force of Jason's fury some ("You buried and destroyed all trace of me, the actual person, didn't even try to tell Dick, and then blamed my death on my own irresponsibility?!") But otherwise does very little.

Talia's involvement being revealed does nothing, because frankly she didn't do much of anything except stall this confrontation and give him a knife. It's a really cool knife, granted, but it sure as fuck didn't convince Jason this needed to happen!

The exact details of Tim's induction into the role have the largest effect - on an issue that is utterly tertiary to his main conflict with Bruce ("Oh wow, cool, great, the new kid you got to emotionally support you actually volunteered, and has parents so his entire well-being doesn't hinge on your approval. Congrats on approaching the bare fucking minimum! Now, wouldn't you agree that you have a duty to protect him by taking care of the murderer who killed me?! Instead of fucking demanding that he be good enough not to get killed?!")

I have a whole damn post on the can of worms Jason understanding the events of War Games would open! ("YOU LET ANOTHER ONE OF US DIE WHILE I WAS GONE?!?")

I am convinced that the only ways in which their conflict becomes less intense is through a misunderstanding.

And I like it that way. I'm really, really glad it's not a misunderstanding, and that it can't be resolved through better communication. Their issues are real and meaningful and cannot be swept away without one actually conceding to the other's demands.

#jason todd #got big thoughts today #damian's tomfoolery #bruce wayne

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crylirium · 3 months

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THERE IS SOMETHING infinitely tragic about zack fair, and i know i am not the first buffoon to come to that conclusion considering he’s a character quite literally created for the catalyst of his death, but like— hear me out.

if you play the original ff7 a certain way, you can bypass his storyline completely. crisis core came out ten years after the original game and yes, we are given his story, but before that all we had was the scraps that could be scrounged up in ff7. he’s a shade. a shadow. a presence in the background. he’s haunting the narrative like no character has ever before, and yet he’s so easy to miss.

imagine it. he is zack fair, SOLDIER first class. a birth and a childhood. parents that loved him. his favorite boots scraped marks into the floor right beneath his mom’s cherry wood chairs. his fingerprints on his sisters’ mirrors and his bookmark snug in between the pages of his grandfather’s books. he taught his younger brothers how to drive their dad’s beat up old truck without it backfiring. he helped his mom with the laundry because she couldn’t quite reach the clothesline. his father called him “son” and “boy” and “kid.” he joined the military at fifteen years old and quickly outranked his peers. he worked with the elite. he made it to first class, and now he’s dead on a cliffside. no grave to bury him in. and the only kid on the goddamn planet who witnessed zack fair fighting to live and succumbing to his death immediately forgets him.

without him and his death, cloud strife does not exist in the form we know him as. zack is cataclysmic, omniscient, an entire universe of untapped potential and yet, AND YET, he exists just for his death. there is no need for the potential of zack fair: living. the importance of his character is in zack fair: dearly dead. imagine it. he exists for the purpose of not existing. he exists to extract all of his potential and purpose and importance just to stuff it all into cloud.

ff7 is cloud strife’s story and zack fair’s grave. it’s always been like this. he cannot exist outside of his own dead body on the cliffside. he’s been dead since the beginning. he’ll always be dead. he’s never going to exist. there’s no moment in time where zack’s importance falls outside of being fucking dead. god i could go crazy.

#zack fair #cloud strife #ff7 #ff7 remake #ff7 rebirth #zakkura #because i am a degenerate #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7

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tteokdoroki · 1 year

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*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— the world in your name + eren jaeger.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — in the quiet of the night, eren realises that he'd destroy the world for you. no matter what universe your love may exist in.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up, fluff, angst, childhood friends to lovers, mentions of nightmares, modern!au with some canon references, aot manga spoilers (?), marriage, eren has a son, not beta read ! - fem!reader.

⭑ words — 1.5K.

⭑ notes — hi !! hello its eren's birthday and if you've been on my blog recently you'd know that i'm falling in love w him all over again so... here's a soft lil one-shot for my boy. i miss him, i want him happy again. enjoy! - m.list ✩

“hey, ‘renren. what are you doing out here all by yourself?”

before he even has a chance to respond, you’re slipping a jacket over eren’s shoulders— tucking yourself under his arm since you know that he finds comfort in your body heat.

“nothin’ much,” he leans down to brush his lips over your forehead, taking the time to appease his guilty pleasure as he breathes in the scent of your shea shampoo. “got a little crowded in there. needed the air— plus the stars are out tonight.” he’s making excuses and he has no doubt that you’ll see right through his bullshit. eren can already feel the smile on your face as you bury yourself deeper into his side, your lips brushing up against him from over his clothes.

after a second of selfishly taking him in yourself, you look up— eyes glittering and loving, reading deep into eren’s soul just like they always have, and so easily too. “bullshit.” your voice lays flat but your eyes are amused as you tip toe up to reach eren’s cheek, kissing him there. he finds that cute, that he’s taller than you now and it’s the opposite of when you were growing up. that he’s big enough to protect you where you’d do the same for him as kids. “eren jaeger not wanting to be the centre of attention at his own party? you sick or somethin’ renren?”

“don’t call me that, we’re not kids anymore.” the brunette grimaces even though his heart bristles happily in his chest.

“you don’t even like the stars. you hate being cold.”

“i like them when i’m here.” eren wraps an arm around your waist and turns to face you fully, tugging you into his chest— his forefinger and thumb tilting your head up so he can look at you better. love you a little longer. “with you.”

you roll your eyes, but melt like butter under his touch. “don’t be corny, honey.”

“you love it when i’m corny. you think it’s romantic.” he says and god— there’s that smile again. the one where your eyes crinkle and it raises your cheeks so high, it looks as if you might burst with happiness. your smile, it makes the world turn on its axis, makes the waves it the shore and the leaves fall from trees and mountains crumble into the seas. it fixes everything, it fixes him.

“come back inside, eren. we’re all waiting for you.” your voice is so soft, he can’t help but shut green eyes away as you cup the side of his face with the softness of your palm, letting the tips of your fingers twirl through his chocolate brown locks in a way that makes the stress sag from his body. “our son wants to see you blow out the candles, make a wish before mommy puts him to bed.”

“we’ll put him to bed together. i just—“ eren is so fucking lucky, he’d be a fool not to take that as fact. you’ve given him everything; a happy life, a home, a beautiful son, and all the love he could ever ask for— even after everything he’d been through, everything he’d put you through over the years. he wasn’t the best to you, not always, but you stayed. when his parents died, when the world gave out beneath his feet and he couldn’t stand up on his own. you shouldered his burdens with him even though he wasn’t as half as good to you as he should have been. but he loves you with everything he has and everything he doesn’t.

he sighs in content, brought back to reality when you cup his face with two hands instead of one and he opens his eyes just to see how worried you look. “i’ll be there in a minute. just…stay out here with me for a bit.” eren wraps his hands around your wrists softly, grounding you while you ground him and his unfairly long eyelashes flutter against your gentle palms.

“okay,” you breathe, relieved that he’s back from wherever his mind had taken him. back to you. “another minute. as long as you need, ‘ren.” there’s that pet name again, the one tied to distant memories of summers and melting ice-pops and scraped knees. you’ve known him so long, you still know how to make his heart race and you’d even given him the honour of being called your husband.

eren loves you so much. he wonders if he’s told you that he loves you today or if he’s made you feel as such. you always make him feel loved, you take care of him and your beautiful son a little more than yourself— but he swears he’ll always be there to pick up your pieces if you fall apart like he’s done before. you need looking after too, and eren knows it’s silly but sometimes he holds back on his hurt and anguish because he knows you’ll drop everything to make it go away.

you’re his partner, his wife, his first love, the mother of his child and his equal— but eren won’t let you give away any more pieces of yourself, even if that’s what you’re supposed to do when you love each other. he’ll keep you whole, feed you pieces of himself instead, keep your world spinning because he loves you.

that’s why he doesn’t tell you about the nightmares he’s been having lately. the ones of another world. the ones where he tells you he’d flatten the world for you if you told him to and the one where you look at him as if he’s a monster.

even there, you find it in your heart to love him.

eren doesn’t tell you about the nightmares because he knows that in this life, if he had that same power… he’d flatten the world for you and your son— he’d do anything to keep you safe and happy. rip stars from the sky and buildings along with them, trample the earth until everything has no choice but to start anew. that’s how much he’d sacrifice himself for you, how many pieces he’d give up just to keep your smile the way it is. he struggled to love you with the words he needs, but he hopes to whatever higher being or power is out there that his actions are enough.

because eren jaeger loves you enough to kill the entire world in your name.

in this life and all of its alternatives.

“papa! come! cake time!”

the deep depth of eren’s thoughts is breached by his little son calling out to him from the sliding glass doors on your back porch with a sheepish mikasa in tow. its then that the older brunette pulls his forehead away from yours, a smile settling on his handsome and matured features as he crouches down to welcome his little boy into his arms.

he’s so much bigger than eren had realised, maybe time is slipping away from you both. he’s almost two, has eren’s eyes and his untamed hair, but the face is all yours. that smile, the one eren’s son is giving him is so big and bright and beautiful and it’s all yours. another gift you had given eren, another person to love.

“hey there lil’ man! daddy’s comin’, okay?” eren grins as his toddler clambers into his lap to give him a slobbery kiss and a squeeze— making his head spin with adoration. even more so than hen he feels you come up behind him and rub his shoulder lovingly. “give momma ‘n i a second, yeah?”

“‘mkay!”

the toddler jumps up to hug your legs next, tugging you in the direction of his aunty mikasa with a pout that could rival eren’s. “sorry for interrupting,” she whispers fondly and apologetically. “he wanted to come get you guys, he’s been trying to ward sasha off from eating the cake.”

“well we can’t have that, can we baby?” you coo as if you’ve got the world beneath your fingers— brushing back your son’s hair before you lift him into your arms, holding him close as if you can’t believe he’s real and that eren gave him to you. your little product of love. “let’s follow aunty mika inside ‘n get papa’s candles going. then aunty sasha can have some cake, how’s that sound?”

“good momma! les’ go! les’ go!” he chants excitedly, laughing along with you as you follow mikasa back into the house— away from the cold outside.

and it’s in that moment, that eren finds himself warm— even without you by his side. because you leave him filled with so much joy, so much happiness that he couldn’t ever feel like he was unloved. not even for a second. you and your son, you’re both all that eren has in this world, you’re what ties him to this very existence, what gives him a reason to keep going.

before he can even register it, eren reaches out for you both from his place on the porch— calling out your name before you re-enter the house. “i love you,” he murmurs so softly that he fears his words might have been lost with the sway of the trees in the wind. “both of you. so much.”

but then you smile, that same smile that eren would tear the world apart for and say. “love you too. and, happy birthday, eren.”

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grayson1996 · 3 days

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"Master Dick has left."

Bruce didn't respond, not that Alfred anticipated he would. The man had been infuriatingly quiet the last few months. Never saying more than a few words at a time to him, and never the one to initiate the dialogue.

Alfred hadn't been surprised, when Martha and Thomas passed Bruce had become mute for months. Alfred had been beside himself with concern, dragging the young boy to child psychologists and specialists. Certain he was already messing up this tremendous responsibility he had been given.

It made sense that Bruce would revert back to the bad habit with Jason's death.

It had almost been a relief when Richard arrived and he could hear the familiar melody of the two of them arguing, floating up the cave stairs. It was some sign that Bruce was still there, buried behind layers of grief and guilt.

He hadn't thought the fight would end in a punch, it never had before. But as soon as Alfred heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh and Richards body crash to the floor he had bolted downstairs. Just in time to hear Bruce destroy any goodwill that remained between him and his only living son.

Despite popular belief, Alfred hadn't been the butler for decades. He was the guardian of Wayne Manor and his protection of it did not stop at Bruce. This was why his first step had been to ensure that Richard was alright as his oldest stomped away, most likely to skulk in the study.

The younger man was so far from fine it only served to further fester the disappointment he felt in Bruce. A disappointment that made way to determination. Alfred had allowed Bruce to destroy everything around him after his parent's death, he had assumed the boy had needed to to move on. He was still paying for that choice every time he saw one of them don a mask and go out into the streets of Gotham.

He would not stand for it now.

Not now that there was more than just Alfred in Bruce's line of attack. Who would feel the reverbs of destruction.

Ms. Troy picked Dick up, and Alfred got the sense that the only reason she herself was not heading up to ream into Bruce, was because she could see a rare fire of rage reflecting back in his eyes. The two left, leaving Alfred with some relief knowing that Dick was out of the crosshairs.

When he finally made his way to the Manor he was right, Bruce was sitting in a high-backed armchair in his study. Face blank, and gaze looking unseeingly out the window as the first rays of dawn poked over the horizon.

Alfred was tired.

"Master Dick has left." Bruce didn't respond, not that Alfred anticipated he would. The man had been infuriatingly quiet the last few months. "Master Dick has left." He repeated, unwilling to let the man get away with silence this time.

For a moment Alfred could read the barest hint of guilt before it was buried under a veneer of indifference.

"What do you want?"

Alfred raised an eyebrow unimpressed, oh absolutely not.

"I would like many things Master Bruce, most notably for you to remove your head from where it's been so thoroughly put up your own ass." That at least got a reaction, since the arrival of the kids Alfred had preferred more subtle ways to admonish Bruce. But that was a kindness reserved for men who did not hit their sons.

"Go away Alfred."

"I will not." Alfred closed the study door behind him with a sense of finality that made Bruce shift slightly in his set. "I would like to understand what the hell it is you think you're doing?" The guilt was back but Bruce again hid it, this time with a snare.

"If you're talking about Dick, I was only telling him the truth. I don't need a partner, I don't need him, and I certainly do not need to be chided by you."

Anger was Bruce's defense mechanism and always had been. Alfred did not have the patience to humor it.

"In all the years I've known you, Master Bruce, you have never been cruel. It is unbefitting and frankly undeserved." Bruce's eyes flared at that.

"I lost my son!" I have lost so many, and yet I have never used it as an excuse to harm the ones I have left.

"I know.... You don't get to decide what happens to you in life. But you do get to choose how you will react to it and you're choosing wrong."

"Batman doesn't need-"

"I don't give a damn what Batman may or may not need!" Alfred felt his cool dissipate, leaving with it a weariness and a rage years in the making. He hated Batman, and hated it when Bruce hid behind him. "I don't give a damn about that mask of yours. Any and all of my loyalty and love has only been directed at you Master Bruce, not him. But you're quickly destroying it."

Bruce opened his mouth as though to argue, but perhaps seeing the ire held within Alfred decided against it. The fist crack in his stoic mask was showing however, as Alfred could see his eyebrows furrow deeply in some unexpressed emotion. Alfred continued,

"As soon as you brought that boy into this life his needs trumped yours and I refuse to stand here and watch as you treat him like the scum of the earth. As you verbally berate and physically demolish him just because you cannot cope. I stood by for too long but I will not stand for this. You've already lost one son and you're dangerously close to losing another if the damage is not already done. And mark my words Master Bruce, if you decide this is the path you're determined to go down, this path of cruelty and spite and solitude, I will stand with Master Dick and not you." This seemed to surprise Bruce, but Alfred didn't know why, he was many things but a pushover was not one of them. "I will not stand with you. Not this version of you who lacks any empathy and thinks he's the only man in this godforsaken family with any right to grieve." His voice broke on that last word, which seemed to spear through Bruce as he flinched at the noise.

"Alfred-"

"I've grieved with you Bruce. Lord knows I've grieved with you. But I refuse to grieve for you, not while you're still alive and still have the chance to fight." He walked over to Bruce, the man watching him warily from his seat as Alfred took his face in his hands. "My dear boy, you need to fight."

"I am fighting Alfred, everyday, I am fighting. But you don't understand what its like to lose a son." Bruce's words weren't mean, were all but desperate, but Alfred still received them like a slap in the face. He tightened his grip on Bruce's face.

"I loved Jason, I loved you, I understand all to well what your going through. I know your pain my boy, I have it, in the whole of my soul I feel it. But your cruelty is something I can't understand. Why you've decided that the best way to express your own pain is by inflicting it on others I can't understand. How you continuously do everything in your power to make Richard feel like nothing, that I can't understand..."

Finally, Alfred let go, standing up he ran a hand down his shirt, as though he could smooth out the flusteredness he was feeling.

"I don't mean to."

Alfred let out a sigh, once again feeling unbelievably exhausted.

"I know Master Bruce, but somehow that makes it worse." The sun was continuing to wain over the horizon, and Alfred thought maybe, just for today, he would sleep in. He started walking to the door, however before he could cross the threshold, he looked back at Bruce. Whose face looked both ancient and unbelievably young under the golden glow. "I have raised three boys Master Bruce. Three sons. I love you, but Richard is just as much mine as yours and I will not let you hurt him. Not again."

He turned and left the room. Hoping that he would not once again prove the Sisphysis to Bruce's unmovable rock.

#batman #dick grayson #batfamily #jason todd #bruce wayne #nightwing #robin #batfam #dc comics #alfred pennyworth #death in the family #batfamily fic

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eternal-echoes · 5 months

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I haven't seen any animes with siscon trope so maybe that's why it's easier for me to have a charitable interpretation on Yuri's obsession to his sister that it isn't sexual but what Spy x Family has shown is that it's a series all about trauma and how it really changes people's lives.

First it was Twilight hating the sound of children crying which he eventually realizes that it's been triggering his childhood trauma. He hated so much what happened to him when he was young that he never want another kid to go through what he did. So that became his motivation for being a spy. And that motivation is what made him the greatest spy of Westalis.

In the case of Yuri, he would see his sister come home from her assassin job all bloody without an explanation (this is probably from Yor's early assassin days when she hasn't mastered cleaning up after serving her customers to completely wash away evidence). That's going to make a huge psychological impact on a kid that's still growing and developing.

And because Yor would bring home something he likes (possibly to get him away from questioning further why she's all bloody but also because as his sister she loves him dearly), he goes through these extreme swings of mood changes from fear and happiness without being properly consoled from the first emotion - it's just sorta stays buried and untreated inside him. I think that's what made him mentally unstable.

And on top of the trauma of having lost his parents when he was young, that sent him over the edge to wanna hold onto his only remaining relative.

He is overly clingy with his sister, but he has said that he wants her to find someone she can find happiness in because he became successful because of her:

He simply wants to make sure that the person she marries is someone who can do what he wants to do for her himself - protecting her.

Yuri probably wouldn’t be wishing that Loid and Yor get divorce and the Forger family out of the Briar’s lives if maybe Loid had introduced himself to Yuri as Yor’s suitor first and eventually ask for his permission to ask Yor’s hand in marriage.

Yuri maybe would have been reluctant to see his sister dating at first but he may eventually come to accept it. But Loid came in to his life already married to his sister without even asking for his blessing.

Since Yuri had only had Yor ever since from their tragic accident of losing their parents when they were young, Loid seemed like an intruder in his life. Yor being married for a year without him knowing seems to him like thinning out their bond since she is essentially starting a family of her own, without his knowledge at first.

With a different last name and different priorities.

My point here is that Yuri is reacting to Yor's marriage from the perspective of a mentally unwell person who hasn't healed from his childhood trauma. He's dealing with it with an unhealthy coping mechanism.

#spy x family #spy x family manga spoilers #yuri briar

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