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slut4thebroken · 6 months

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All Work, No Play: hour one

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Pairing | Jackson Rippner x reader

Summary | You meet Jackson at the bar in the hotel you’re staying at and decide to be brave and try something new; a one night stand. But it doesn’t go the way you think.

Warnings | NON CON 18+, sexual content, fingering, vaginal sex, dubious consent, threats of anal rape, degradation, humiliation, misogyny (like so much lol), choking, hickeys, cunniligus, crying, edging, stalking, voyerism, breeding, unprotected sex, emotional manipulation, putting misogyny again lol, objectification, face down ass up🤭, dehumanization, threats of murder and torture, I think that’s everything skdjdk.

Words | 6.5 k

Notes | READ THE WARNINGS. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CHOOSE TO VIEW. The last thing I wrote that was this intense was maybe the beginning chapters of exposure therapy or the dark!jason series💀

Ao3 link | <3

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This is the last warning, if you keep reading and find something you don’t like, that’s on you. I have it clearly written what’s in this fic, if you choose to ignore it, don’t be a bitch about it and comment hate or report it ❤️

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“Can I sit?” Your head snapped up, finding a man standing behind the empty seat next to you.

“Yeah. Go ahead.” You said awkwardly, clearing your throat and putting your attention on your drink as he sat down.

“I'm sorry, I'm not usually this forward, but I was wondering if I can buy you a drink?” Your eyes widened and you turned to face him, not expecting that question at all.

“Um- sure. Thanks.” You gave him a small smile, feeling your cheeks heat up when he returned it. He called the bartender over to order his drink, then looked at you expectantly. You ordered, then finished off the rest of the drink you already had— two shouldn’t be too bad.

“I’m Jackson.” He said, holding his hand out for you to shake. You told him your name in return and he muttered it to himself, testing it out.

“What brings you here?” You asked, turning toward him to give your full attention.

“Work. You?”

“Work.”

“I have to say though, this trip is turning out to be much better than the others.” He gave you a small smile and you tried not to get too overwhelmed with the butterflies in your stomach as you stared at him, wondering almost anxiously about where this was going.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“This time a beautiful girl let me buy her a drink.” You averted your gaze as your face heated up, not used to such sudden compliments like that.

“I guess I could say the same then.”

“I don’t believe that.” He scoffed playfully. “You must have men practically lining up to buy you drinks.”

“Nope… Just you.” You said, embarrassed. Thankfully, the bartender placed your drinks in front of you, giving you a break from his attention. “So how long are you staying here?” You asked, changing the subject.

“I should only be here one more night. Maybe two depending on how tough the job is.” He shrugged.

“Oh okay. I’m flying back over the weekend so I’m here for a few more days.”

“Do you have any personal time or is it all work and no play?” The way he said it made it sound like an innuendo… but you weren't completely certain if it actually was.

“Well I have enough to sit at a bar and talk to a stranger.” You smiled behind your glass as you took another sip.

“I see… And what about going someplace quieter with a stranger? Do you have time for that?” He said lowly, making arousal pool in your stomach as his eyes darkened slightly.

“I think I could spare a bit. It depends on what this stranger wants to do.”

“I’m not sure it would be appropriate to say in the middle of a hotel bar.” You eyed him curiously, deciding what to do. You’re not a one night stand type of girl, but he’s hot and you’re a little pent up.

“Then I guess we should go somewhere you can tell me.” His lips curled into a smirk and he immediately reached in his pocket to pull out his wallet and place some cash on the bar for your mostly untouched drinks.

He stood and held a hand out for you to take as you got to your feet, letting him lead you over to the elevator. On the ride up, you tried not to let your nerves consume you, but you weren’t doing a very good job of that. The doors opened and he led you to his room, using the key card to open the door, then holding it open for you to walk in first. You looked around the room, finding no luggage and the bed perfectly made as if it hadn’t been slept in yet.

“How long have you been here for?” You turned to face him as he placed his key card on the dresser and you waited somewhat impatiently for his answer.

“A few hours. I mostly just have to work tonight.”

“Oh… Do you need me to go then?” You asked, not understanding why he would invite you here if he had to work.

“Of course not. How would I get any work done if you left?” Your brows furrowed as you replayed his words in your head, still not understanding.

“Um… I— What?” You laughed awkwardly.

“I'm gonna be honest, I thought I’d have to try a lot harder to get you to my room.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You asked, but he ignored you.

“I mean, I know you pretty well by now and I didn’t think you were the type to do one night stands.” You stared at him in confusion, but your stomach was twisting with a sense of complete and utter dread that something bad was about to happen to you.

“I’m a little tired actually, I think I’m just going to go to my room.” You said, tentatively walking forward, but he remained between you and the door, blocking you.

“But the night’s just getting started.”

“Jackson, please move.” You said quietly, gaze shifting between his face and the door. He took a step closer, making you stagger back as he approached.

“Now that we’re somewhere quieter, I guess I should tell you what I want to do. Or… not what I want, but what I’m going to do.” You were quickly nearing the wall behind you as he kept moving closer. When your back hit it and a small gasp escaped you, he placed both hands on the wall on either side of your head, trapping you.

“I need something from you. Depending on your attitude, I’ll either take it, or you’ll give it to me willingly. One of those options will be significantly more painful for you and fun for me.”

“Please let me go.” You whispered, not able to maintain eye contact. He didn’t say anything for a moment, then suddenly grabbed your cheeks to turn you toward him, making your eyes snap back to his.

“Beg if you want, but you’re not leaving here any time soon. Not until I get what I want.” He said lowly, words sounding like they once again had a different meaning.

“What do you want?”

“Two things. We’ll start with the fun one first.” The hand on the wall dropped down and he snaked it back up your thigh, under your dress. “Which pair did you wear, hm? I hope it’s that red set. The black one’s cute too though.”

“What?” You said through a breath, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Don’t play dumb, you know what I’m talking about. The lacy one that you seem to love so much. You take so many pictures of you wearing it and I know you don’t have a boyfriend so who are you sending those to?” He said teasingly.

“How do you know that?” You whispered, heart pounding in your chest.

“Same way I know that you like to walk around your apartment naked.” Your stomach twisted at the smirk on his face.

“I- I don’t understand…” He shushed you before you could finish. Not that you could formulate a response anyway.

“You don’t need to worry your pretty little head about it. For now, let’s do what we came up here for, yeah?” He wasn’t asking you, he was letting you know what was happening, but you weren’t about to go down without a fight.

“You’re fucking psychotic if you think I’m doing shit with you.” You spat, pushing his hand away when it started moving toward your underwear.

“Baby… don’t be like that.” He cooed mockingly. “I know how pent up you are so stop being a stubborn bitch and just enjoy it.” He warned, tone significantly harsher than before.

“Fuck you.” His hand suddenly moved from your face to your neck, squeezing tight enough to make you raise your hands to claw at his arm. You thrashed around in his grip, prompting him to place his leg between your thighs and push his body against yours, mostly immobilizing you.

“Keep this up and I’ll torture you to get what I need, then kill you and fuck you— in that order.” You let out a strangled whimper and squeezed your eyes shut. “Do you understand?” You did your best to nod with his grip on your neck.

“Yes.” You managed to force out through a wheeze.

“Good.” His grip loosened significantly and you took in a huge breath, chest heaving to get the much needed oxygen. “Where do you want it? Against the wall? …On the bed?” He asked coyly. Your bottom lip trembled as you stared at him, desperately waiting for him to just say that this was all a joke and he didn’t mean any of it. But he never did. “Bed it is.” He answered for you.

Using his grip on your neck, he pulled you from the wall and pushed you back toward the bed before practically shoving you onto it. He stood at the foot of the bed, staring down at you on your back, propped up by your elbows to look up at him.

“Strip.” He demanded, eyes focused only on you. Hesitantly leaning up into a sitting position, you started with your heels, unbuckling the strap then dropping them to the floor— only debating for a moment if you should throw them at him or try something else, but you didn’t want to take any chances. Moving on to your dress, you pulled the zipper down until it loosened and took a deep breath before moving the straps so that the dress fell to around your hips. You lifted your lower half off the bed a little to slide it the rest of the way off, then waited.

“Please don’t play dumb, it’s not a good look on you. You know what I want.” He said, all but rolling his eyes. Letting out a shaky breath, you reached behind yourself to unclasp your bra, discarding it to the growing pile on the floor. Your underwear was next, slowly sliding them off and keeping your legs together before covering yourself with your hands.

“Fuck they’re even better up close.” He groaned, taking off his suit jacket. “Do you know how many times I jerked off just watching you walk around naked? You should really learn to close your blinds, you know. Sure people from the street can’t see you, but I could see you perfectly from the roof on the building across from yours.”

“Why are you doing this?” You whimpered, watching as he unbuckled his belt before taking it off.

“People pay me to.” He said with a shrug, making you scoff.

“People are paying you to rape me?”

“Of course not. That’s just a bonus.”

“You’re sick.” You hissed.

“Maybe. But what does that make you?” A smirk was making its way on his lips.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I can see how wet you are.” He said plainly, gaze dropping to your legs.

“You’re fucking delusional.” You spat.

“Am I?” He walked over to pick up your discarded— damp— underwear, holding them up for you to see, making your face burn. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’ve been told I’m conventionally attractive and I know you’re into this, even if you won’t admit it.”

“Into what? Being raped?” You scoffed.

“Not to that extreme. You want to be forced— dominated against your will. You want me to take what I want from you and trust me, I have every intention of doing that.”

“Look I don’t know who you think you are but you can’t just,” He was on you in a second, roughly shoving you so you were laying down, then holding you there with a hand wrapped tight around your throat.

“I can’t what?” His voice was low and menacing, a warning. “Hm?” He raised his brows and you clenched your jaw, trying not to panic as your head was starting to feel light again. “That’s what I thought. If you’re done with your tantrum, let’s get started.” You glared at him, teeth grinding together painfully. Despite everything, the fact that you just gave in so easily was what made you feel the worst. You barely put up a fight… and you know why. Because he’s right. You came up here with him because you thought he was attractive and wanted to fuck him. It’s not like you can just turn off that attraction.

“Please let me go.” You whispered, eyes brimming with tears of humiliation.

“No.”

“Then just fucking get it over with already! Do you want help? Is that it?” You reached for his pants and started working on the button, but he released your neck to pull your hands away, holding them in one hand above your head. When you swallowed thickly and turned away from him, he grabbed your neck again, but didn’t squeeze as hard as before.

“I watched you for weeks. I’m not about to rush things now.” Your eyes fluttered shut and you willed the tears away. You let out a stifled sob, biting your bottom lip when it started trembling again. His mouth was on yours suddenly, pressing a rough kiss to your lips as you tried to flinch away from him. His hand snaked down from your neck to grope your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers in a way that was bordering on painful.

He trailed kisses over your jaw, down to your neck, then sucked the skin into his mouth, only releasing you when he was satisfied with the darkness of the bruise. Moving to a new place, he did the same thing, leaving hickeys all over your neck and down your chest before sucking your nipple into his mouth. You tried to stifle the gasp, but he heard it anyway. Once he deemed your nipple hard enough, he moved to the other one to give it the same treatment. His hands were pawing at your body, groping your breast and gripping your side to hold you still as you squirmed. He pulled up, looking at you through his lashes with slightly parted lips as he panted.

“Ready for the fun part?” He smirked and you thought that meant he was going to fuck you, but he kissed down your stomach until he made his way to your legs, settling between them. He pried them apart even more and eyed your sex eagerly, making your cheeks heat up.

“What are you doing?” You choked out and he tore his eyes away from your cunt to look at you.

“You thought I’d watch you play with this pretty pussy for so long and not enjoy it?” He scoffed. Before you could protest, he was leaning down and licking a long stripe up your slit. Biting your lip, you swallowed down the moans threatening to escape. He focused mostly on your hole, lapping up your arousal and fucking you with his tongue, all while groaning against you.

Moving up, he sucked your clit into his mouth and swiftly pushed a finger inside, making you jolt. Your lip was aching because of how hard you were biting it but you couldn’t risk letting out any moans.

“Please,” You whimpered, trying to push yourself up the bed. In retaliation he inserted another finger, then wrapped his other arm around your thigh, pulling you down onto his hand. “Please stop.” You cried. If anything, your begging made him work harder.

“Why? Getting close?” He smirked, barely pulling away from your clit to speak. You shook your head with a whimper as the tears finally started to fall. The thing is though… you were getting close. It’s been so long since you’ve been with another person, let alone someone this talented.

“Stop...” You whined, bringing your hands down to push at his head.

“God- I can fucking feel you clenching down on my fingers. You are close aren’t you?” He looked up at you through his lashes with a glint in his eyes.

“We can’t have that though.” He said, removing his fingers and pulling away from your clit. “Not yet.”

“Why are you doing this?” You whispered, staring at his figure that was blurry with unshed tears.

“It’s nothing against you. The job leaves little time for.. personal activities… I saw an opportunity so I took it.” He all but shrugged. Instead of giving you a chance to respond, he pushed his fingers back in and sucked your clit into his mouth again. As his fingers curled against your walls in places that previous partners— and yourself— haven’t even discovered, you couldn’t hold back the sounds anymore.

“There you go.” He cooed. “Just give in and I’ll make you feel so good.” He mumbled against your clit before flicking his tongue against it.

“Stop.” You whined. In response, all he did was force another finger inside. You don’t know how he knew, but the second you neared the edge again, he pulled back, making you whine.

“Feels good doesn’t it?” He asked, slowly curling his fingers against your walls, but keeping his mouth away from your clit. “No boyfriend, no one night stands… Just you and your vibrator.” He chuckled, making your face heat up. “You really like that thing. It’s cute.”

“Fuck you.” There wasn't even a hint of malice in your tone. Just pure embarrassment and need.

“Yeah I bet you want that too. Don’t worry, there’s no fucking way I’m leaving here before getting my cock in this tight little cunt.” You let out a choked sob and turned your head to the side as your hips started moving against his hand. “I could feel you clench down on my fingers… dirty girl.” He clicked his tongue in mock disapproval, then leaned down to suck your clit into his mouth again.

As you squirmed under him, you gripped the sheets hard enough to make your fingers hurt so that you wouldn’t move your hands to his hair— knowing you would try to pull him closer rather than push him away. He continued the assault on your cunt, his mouth and fingers creating utterly vulgar sounds that completely filled the room, adding to your humiliation.

He slowed to a stop again and you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from protesting. Once he knew your orgasm had faded, he slowly curled his fingers against your walls as his other hand reached down to pull out his phone. He eyed it, then set it on the bed next to your thigh.

“If you give me what I want, I can speed all this up and give you what you want.”

“You’ll let me go?” That made him chuckle.

“That’s not what you really want.” The worst part is that it wasn’t… You wanted your orgasm that he’s been teasing you with for the past few minutes.

“You still haven’t told me what you want.” You said, changing the subject.

“Right to business then. Alright.” He removed his fingers suddenly and your hips flinched forward, chasing the pleasure. “I need to know the code to disarm the alarm at your work.”

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t have access to that.” You said nervously, making him sigh.

“Please don’t waste my time. Tell me and I’ll make you come. If you don’t tell me, I’ll have to resort to more… unconventional methods.” You tried not to scoff at that— how is this not already unconventional?

“What are you going to do with it?”

“I’m not going to do anything. All I have to do is to get you to talk, by any means necessary, and I’m very dedicated to my job. That’s why I stalked you for a couple weeks— to get to know you.” Your breath caught in your throat at the admission. How did you not notice that you were being stalked for weeks? “Unfortunately your family isn’t in the picture and you don’t really have friends— you definitely don’t have a boyfriend. All of that really limited my options. Luckily I like a challenge.” He smirked and you waited anxiously for where he was going with this.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’ve tortured people before. But after watching you for so long, I knew I needed to do something special. You deserve so much more than just water boarding or a beating.”

“You’re fucking sick.” You whispered, trying not to cry at the fact that this was not his worst.

“I could’ve threatened to rape you instead— obviously I still would’ve done it after I got what I wanted— but I had a feeling you’d respond better to this. So, you give me what I want and I’ll make you come, it’s as simple as that.”

“Fuck you.” You spat, making him chuckle and check the clock on the nightstand for the time.

“I’m trying to be nice, sweetheart, but if you don’t give me what I want… I will hurt you.” He condescended. “And not in a normal way— no, that would be a missed opportunity.” He leaned over you until his breath fanned your lips. “You don’t give me what I want, and I fuck your ass instead. No lube, no prep, just my fat cock splitting you open until you beg for mercy.” He said lowly. You tried not to show any outward signs of fear, but judging by the look on his face, you knew you were unsuccessful. “And I won’t give it to you. I’ll keep fucking you until you eventually pass out from the pain, but even then I still won’t stop. You’ll tell me everything I want to know and more, just to have the slightest chance of me stopping.” Your body trembled as you stared up at him, watching his gaze move all over your face as he studied you.

“Now,” He whispered, “are you going to give me what I want or am I going to have to hurt you?” Your brows furrowed as you thought, trying not to cry. Maybe he’s bluffing? “Is this really worth getting raped in the ass over?” He asked, tilting his head slightly. When you remained silent, paralyzed in fear, he hummed and pursed his lips, then leaned back up. He flipped you onto your stomach and when you heard the zipper on his pants go down, you started thrashing. He placed a firm hand on your upper back to hold you down as he freed his cock.

“Wait!” You yelled, when you felt his length brush your ass. “Wait— please, I- I’ll tell you, just please don’t.” You cried, anxiously awaiting his next move. “Please— I’m sorry, Jackson. I’ll tell you.” You rushed out, breathing growing more labored as panic and fear consumed you.

“If you lie, I’ll know, and I’ll do it anyway.”

“I- I won’t, I promise.” You whimpered as he picked up the phone, then a moment later, held it to his ear.

“Yeah.. Are you ready for it?” You listened anxiously. “Go ahead.” He said, talking to you now. You told him and he repeated it back into the phone. “Good. Alright, let me know.” He tossed the phone back onto the bed.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” You were starting to relax now that the threat wasn’t there anymore, but calming down made you feel all of the other emotions at the same time— anger for being stupid enough to fall for his charm, shame for enjoying the way he was pleasuring you, guilt for betraying your work so easily, and worst of all, desperation. You were desperate for more, and both of you knew that.

You let out a choked sob and he removed his hand from your back but you didn’t move, you just buried your face into the sheets and cried.

“You’re a crier?” He said, almost disgusted. “Those are the worst people to work with— actually I shouldn’t say people. It’s the women who cry, and usually before I even get to the fun part. The men that do cry at least wait until after they’ve been tortured for a while.” You couldn’t respond, not when you were focusing so hard on trying to take in oxygen through sporadic breaths with your face in the sheets. You were just glad he wasn’t pushing on your lungs anymore.

“God- will you quit it already?” He snapped, making you flinch. He suddenly leaned over you, his cock laying heavy on your ass. He brushed your hair back to see your face, then roughly grabbed a fistful to turn your head enough to make eye contact. “As long as you didn’t lie, you have nothing to worry about… So what’s the problem?” You knew he wasn’t genuinely asking.

“I- I,” You couldn’t hold down the sob crawling up your throat. “Please don’t. Please— I gave you what you want.” You whimpered, making him raise his brows, as if to say, really?

“Have you ever been raped before?” He suddenly asked, making you let out another quiet sob.

“No…”

“You’ll live.” He shrugged, as if that made it better. “Sure you’ll think about this every day for the rest of your life and you’ll hate yourself for craving it again, but you’ll survive.” You let out a stifled whimper and squeezed your eyes shut. “You won’t even hate me more than you’ll hate yourself, you know why? Cause all I did was give you what you want. You’re the sick fuck who actually enjoyed being raped.”

“Please stop.” You whimpered, wincing when he tightened his grip on your hair.

“I bet you really do want me to rape your ass. Are you just being coy, baby?” He cooed and you violently shook your head to disagree. “Let me ask again.” He reached down and shoved two fingers in your cunt. “Do you want me to rape your ass?” He repeated, barking out a laugh when you sobbed harder, but clenched down on his fingers. “God you’re fucking disgusting. No wonder you don’t have a boyfriend. I mean, who would want to date a girl who practically belongs in a brothel for fucks sake?” He started moving his fingers inside you, making you choke on a moan.

“Actually— not even that. You’re not worth any amount of money. You belong on the streets, just a free use whore for anyone who needs a warm hole to fuck, isn’t that right?”

“Fuck you.” You muttered weakly.

“Did I strike a nerve?” He cooed mockingly, curling his fingers inside you just a little bit faster. “Surely with a body like this you must be used to people objectifying you by now.” You weren’t. At least not to your face.

“How’d you even get your job, huh? You fuck your boss?” You bit the inside of your cheek to try and ground yourself, not let your emotions consume you. “Did this run through little cunt get you a promotion? Even if it didn’t, I’m sure the only reason you were hired was so that your coworkers could have a pretty little thing to look at everyday.” He snickered. Even though you knew that everything he was saying wasn’t true, tears were still brimming in your eyes from his words.

“Sluts like you are the worst kind. No one likes it when you play hard to get, that defeats the whole purpose of being a whore.” He removed his fingers from your cunt, making you hiss at the sudden loss. When he leaned back up and picked up his phone, you didn’t turn to face him, you just remained still.

“Lucky girl. Thank you for your cooperation.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Now that business is done, I’d say we’re long overdue for some pleasure, wouldn’t you? Get up on your knees.” He moved off of you to let you rise up, but quickly stopped you. “Did I say on your hands? You don’t deserve to be fucked with dignity.” He roughly shoved your head forward until you landed against the mattress with a grunt. “You deserve to be fucked like the whore you are. Now stick that ass up, you don’t want me to tell you again.” You adjusted your position on your knees and felt the bed shift as he moved behind you.

“Jackson, please.” You whimpered, turning your head to the side so he could hear you. You didn’t even know what you were begging for anymore. He ignored you and lined himself up with your entrance, rubbing the thick head through your folds, spreading your arousal.

“You better hope your whore pussy isn’t too loose because if you can’t make me feel good, I’ll have to use a different hole.” As if to emphasize his point, he placed the tip of his cock against your asshole, making you stiffen. He quickly went back down to your cunt, then applied some pressure. When your walls finally gave in to the intrusion, you cried out at the stretch and tried to move away, making him grab your hips to hold you still.

“Ah, ah, ah— keep that fucking back arched.” He placed a hand on you and pushed down until your lower back was bent uncomfortably. “That’s it. Good little slut… Ready for more?” Before you could answer, his hips were snapping forward until he was flush with your ass, making you all but scream at the sudden force. Because of his hand holding you down, you couldn’t move away and the pressure of his hips against your ass was bending your back almost painfully.

“Huh… Tighter than I thought it’d be.” He said, almost to himself. And you had to keep from saying ‘no fucking shit’ because of the way he was stretching your walls to their limit. He started up a slow, but hard pace, dragging out, then snapping back in. Each thrust made you scream and he moved his hand from your hip to push your face into the sheets.

“Jesus- shut the fuck up already. You may want everyone in this damn hotel to know that you’re being fucked stupid right now, but I don’t. My line of work requires discretion.” Your moans quieted a bit and he let go of your head and leaned back up.

“And just so we’re on the same page, sweetheart, if you attract any attention and someone comes to the room, I’ll kill them and then you. I don’t need you alive for this part so you better do everything you can to convince me not to break your fucking neck.” He growled and you let out a muffled sob. His thrusts sped up, and you bit down on your lip hard enough to draw blood so that you’d stay quiet.

“God- you fucking love this shit, don’t you? I might even have to keep you as a full time fuck toy.” You whimpered at the horrible thought, even though it made your clit throb. “Yeah I bet you’d like that too. Wouldn’t have to worry about anything else but pleasing me— no job, no social life, I’d take the burden completely off your shoulders and let you live the way you were meant to; as a worthless little fleshlight, desperate for cock anywhere you can get it.”

You’ve never been talked to like this before. Sure, past partners have indulged in some of your kinks, but never to this extent, and never this well. You could feel your mind slipping away from you too. The longer he fucked you, the harder it was to remember why you didn’t want him to.

“Are you on birth control?” He suddenly asked. You were confused about why he would care about being safe now, when you’re already in the middle of the act.

“No…?”

“Of course you’re not. God it’s like you’re fucking begging to be knocked up.” You suddenly realized how this night was going to end and it was like a bucket of ice water was poured on your head.

“W-wait,” You started lifting yourself into your elbows, but he placed a hand on the back of your neck and forced you down, keeping you there as he shushed you.

“There's no need to panic. It’s your own fault for not protecting yourself.” You let out a choked sob and he pushed you down harder into the bed to muffle your sounds. “And anyway, this is what you were made for so how about you just stop fucking whining and be a good little breeding bitch.” You were crying again now, almost hyperventilating into the sheets, but he didn’t let up, he just held you down harder and fucked you faster.

“I can’t say I necessarily want kids myself but maybe every nine months I’ll auction you off to the highest bidder— let you really fulfill your life’s purpose.” You couldn’t tell if this was a meaningless threat or not. “I’ll still whore you out during the nine months though, don’t worry. I’m not completely cruel.” He snickered. His thrusts were growing more erratic now and his breathing was getting more and more labored.

“Don’t you like that idea, baby? I’ll strap you down to a breeding bench and let all of those disgusting men that you pretend you’re above have a turn with whichever hole they want. You’ll be so fucking covered in come by the end of it that you won’t even recognize yourself.” He roughly grabbed your hair and pulled your head back uncomfortably, making you cry out. “I’d still have my fun with you though, don’t worry. No matter how many cocks you take in those pathetic little fuck holes, you’ll still be mine.” The softness of his tone was a harsh contrast to his words, making your head spin. The speed in which he pulled out and flipped you over made your head spin even more though. He leaned back over you and grabbed your cheeks with one hand while the other positioned his cock at your entrance again, pushing back in.

“Tell me you’re mine.” He said quietly and your brows furrowed as you looked away. “Tell me, baby. Tell me this whore body is mine to use however I want.” You whined loudly and he gripped your face tighter.

“I’m yours.” You whispered, bottom lip trembling. He jerked his hand back and slapped you across the cheek before placing it on your neck and squeezing hard. You looked away from him as a scared whimper escaped you.

“What was that?”

“I’m yours! I- I’m yours…” You sobbed out. His lips curled up into a satisfied smirk.

“Tell me you’re only good for being my cocksleeve.”

“I- I’m only good for being your cocksleeve.” You whimpered.

“Tell me you’re my breeding bitch whose only purpose is to make babies and take cock.” He growled, grip tightening on your neck. You whined and squeezed your eyes shut, then shook your head. “You know it’s true so fucking tell me.” He warned, pushing down on your windpipe until you gasped for air.

“I’m your breeding- bitch whose only purpose is…” You were actually struggling to breathe now, barely able to get the words out, but he didn’t seem to care, “to make babies and take cock.” You wheezed, making him loosen his grip. You gasped in a breath as your chest heaved.

“That’s right. Now… I know I said if you give me what I want, I’ll give you what you want… and I can feel how your pathetic cunt’s about to cream all over my cock, but… like you said, your only purpose is to make babies and take cock. Breeding bitches don’t need orgasms.” The choked sob you let out was probably the worst part of all of this because it was genuine. You really were getting close and you were looking forward to that release— for one moment to just forget what was happening.

“No- no, please.” You whimpered, eyes filling with tears for an entirely new, more humiliating, reason. “Please, Jackson, I’ve been good. I- I did what you said— I gave you what you wanted.” You cried, bottom lip wobbling.

“I know, honey.” He cooed condescendingly. “Other than the insolence and fighting back, you’ve been so good, haven’t you?” Your frown deepened at that.

“Please, I’m sorry— I’m sorry, just please let me come,” Your voice had a whiny edge to it that you couldn’t control.

“You poor thing… Look at me, baby, there you go.” Once you were staring into those hypnotizing blue eyes, he continued, voice much lower now. “I want you… to remember this moment. I want you to remember the way you begged your rapist to let you come.” You swallowed down a whimper, throat bobbing under his hand.

“The next time you think you’re anything more than a pair of tits and a set of holes, think of this moment.” Your brows furrowed and you bit your trembling lip, trying not to cry. No matter how much you wished to deny it though, his words had you barreling toward your orgasm. “Do you understand?” He asked softly and you nodded, making his grip tighten on your neck.

“Yes.” You whispered, voice shaking.

“Good. Now I’m tired of listening to your fucking whining.” He said, pulling out, then flipping you back onto your knees and pushing your head down as he filled you again. He was chasing his orgasm now— his thrusts growing more frenzied and desperate, quiet grunts getting just a little bit louder. He brought his other hand up to join the one on your back, using it to hold himself up and keep you down at the expense of your lungs and breathing.

“God- I can feel your pathetic little fuck hole clenching down on my cock. Are you close?” All you could do to respond was make a muffled noise against the sheets. “You better not fucking come.” He spat. “You don’t want that pretty neck broken do you?” He asked, softer, making you let out a loud sob.

He was pounding you ruthlessly now, hips smacking your ass so hard you’d probably bruise. His balls hitting your clit with every thrust made you jolt each time and it was getting harder to stave off your orgasm. His movements started to slow but became rougher, almost pushing you forward from the intensity. When he finally stilled with a low groan, you whined and shifted uncomfortably. You could feel hot come filling you up with each twitch of his cock and every time he tried to push a little deeper, your back arched even more, to the point where it was starting to hurt, rather than just feel uncomfortable. He let out a heavy breath and pulled out, then sat back on his heels as he pulled your folds apart.

Hour two

(I know it’s cut kind of awkwardly but this one shot turned into 18k words so I had to cut it somewhere skdhdk)

I have some questions rq. Pls answer🙏🏻

I was maybe thinking of saying “hour 1” etc instead of “part 1” for each part since.. yk it takes place over the course of serveral hours lol. Is that dumb? Should I just keep it as “part 1”?

Also I chose the title when the fic was only the length of part 1 and im not sure if I should keep it or not so lmk if you think I should make it something that relates to the whole fic rather than just one comment in the first part lol

Taglist (join here)

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @nashja @rentaldarling @cillianscrybaby @vivvive @ceruleanrainblues @mrkdvidal1989 @brooklynscherry-z @ohmysatansstuff @d1lf-loverthinqs @butlersluvbot @mandowhatnow @baekhyunstruly @halleysc6met @babaohhhriley (didn’t let me tag ->) @deceitfuldevout @crunchsworld @bluujaiwrites @idkdudsworld @miyababby @n1ghtw1ngslver @aviamulier @xxorazz

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arachine · 1 year

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cross-court . . . (๑>◡๑)

synopsis :: after a long day of patrolling, bakugou wants nothing more than to unwind by taking his furry companion on a stroll near the park. what he doesn’t expect, though, is to run into you. genre :: mature warnings :: smut (18+), characters are in their mid-twenties, phone sex, bakugo is lowkey a creep, maybe just a tiny bit of a loser, mentions of alcohol word count:: 3.7 k note:: this is a really old fic that i edited a bit. couldn’t be asked to edit it further! just wanted to get smth out >_<

The soreness in his bones is definitive proof of a hard day's work. He’d been summoned earlier that afternoon to patrol the perimeter of Kyushu (well, he was asked to pick up a shift for Kirishima and felt obligated to comply), and hadn’t caught a break since. Bakugou expected this much, though. The days and nights were growing warmer, which could only mean that there’d be a significant increase in crime—to his disdain.

Although he spent most of the day chasing down criminals, there was currently only one thing occupying his mind. And if he could successfully (and quickly) get to his apartment without any obstacles, then he’d have a little more time to see…you.

He’s not exactly sure when he first noticed you. It’s something that he tries to recall often, but he only ever comes up short, ultimately guessing that you were always there in the background on the days he wasn’t paying attention. The earliest memory of you—and the only one he can vividly remember—is sometime last spring. There you were at the community tennis court, with your racket in hand, dashing gracefully across the cement and skillfully obstructing your opponent’s strokes.

If it were any other day, sure, he might’ve paid you no mind, but the way your eyes gleamed with determination—like you were certain that you’d win—is what made his stare linger a little longer. Your force on the court was fierce, and care-free, and all encompassing, and if he had a say, he’d say that you were in your own little bubble. So, that’s what he associates you with now. Spring. The season that brought warmth, and clear skies, and cool breezes, and cherry blossoms.

The elevator ride up to his apartment is short, just as short as the conversation he had with the pro hero who happened to enter the elevator with him. He responds to their attempts at small talk with half-hearted grunts, and sometimes he says nothing at all. Honestly, he doesn’t know why people even bother. Soon, the elevator arrives on his floor with a ding, and he exits without saying a word.

“Yeah I—oh! Have a good day, Dynamite. Nice tal-” T he elevator shuts before they can finish their sentence.

As soon as he jiggles his keys in front of the door, his ears pick up the familiar sound of heavy paws and excited barks that belong to his furry companion. Instantly, he’s greeted with slobbery kisses and licks.

“Alright already…y’damn mutt,” Bakugou hisses, pretending to hate the affection, “quit actin’ like I haven't seen ya in days.” After a minute or two of playing around, he kisses his teeth to call the dog over to where he stands with its collar and leash.

“Where are we going? Are we going on a walk, girl?” he smoothes a hand over her coat after adjusting the collar around her neck, “we gonna see that pretty girl? Hm, Nala? Yeah we fucking are. Let’s go.”

He takes this route often just to see you. It’s pathetic, really, and it’s also embarrassingly far from his apartment complex. Makes him feel like one of those creeps who frequent the park to get a glimpse at you—which was what he was kinda already doing—albeit, he liked to persuade himself into thinking his intentions were of pure heart.

At first, he told himself that he just liked watching you because you were good. You were strong, and fast—quick on your toes and quick with your words. Sometimes, he’d pick up on the shit talking between you and your opponents, and he’d laugh. All low and hearty, nodding his head like he was on the receiving end of the jab. But then he realized one day how odd he must’ve appeared to passerbyers like himself who probably witnessed him laughing along.

You reminded him of himself, though. And as much as he tried to tell himself that this—or whatever this really was— was just pure and unadulterated admiration, he knew it was just bullshit. Because now he wasn’t just noticing things like your strength, and your quick-wittedness, and your drive for triumph. No, he was starting to take interest in other things—other thoughts. Thoughts that were beginning to sound a whole lot like: ‘I wonder what color panties she’s wearing’ and a lot less like ‘she’s so cool’.

Soon, every thought at the forefront of his mind was becoming sullied with fantasies of you. He was gradually becoming hyper-aware of the fact that you had a body. And yes, you had arms, and hands, and legs, and feet, and skin—in the way that everyone does—but he was starting to notice something. Your figure.

The cords of muscle in your calves (sinewy and taut, in the way that only muscles can be), your neck, the sleekness of it—a precursor to your chest, and your torso, and your ass. God, your damned ass, and your damned, stupid fucking tennis skirts. It drove him crazy. Seeing you frolick all around the court, in those little skirts that did fuck all at keeping you covered.

And as much as he wanted to pretend that seeing a flash of your cute little panties for a modicum of a second was the biggest of his concerns…He can’t. Because regardless of his faux disdain for your prancing around in tight clothes, it’s what keeps bringing him back. And he’d keep coming back. Again, and again, and again, and…again, until he worked up the nerve to say something.

Today he finds that nerve quickly. Not intentionally, unfortunately, but by force. Because today? Today the odds were working in his favor. Today his dog’s dumbass ball happened to roll a little too far in your court. Far enough for it to roll all the way under the gate and to your feet, presenting itself like a silver platter.

Fucking great, he thinks. He wasn’t prepared in the slightest to talk to you, at least not today. But today wasn’t just a day; today was the worst of days, and shit was hitting the fan fare more than he would’ve liked. He’s pulled from his reverie when Nala gets the bright idea to run after the ball, and before he notices, she’s already up and tackling you over.

So much for first impressions. He’d damn her straight to hell if he could (he wouldn’t), but then he figures he ought to thank his furry companion for piquing your interest because instead of freaking out (like a normal person would after being tackled by an unaccompanied dog), you receive her with open arms. All pets and giggles, praises and kisses. Nice, Nala.

Now he’s standing there awkwardly, making that one ultra-specific face that owners make when their pets get loose and they don’t know whether to run pathetically after them or let them wreak havoc. Yeah, that one. All he can muster is a slanted smile and a wave of his hand, though from this far, he supposes he just looks weird.

In a last-ditch attempt, he tries to lure Nala back to where he stands, but to no avail. She’s enamored with you. Giving you paws and kisses, exposing her tummy to you, wagging her tail–but most importantly she’s ignoring him! Maybe he would damn her to hell.

“Phwt, Nala,” he whistles, rather badly, “stop ignoring me y’damned traitor. I’m your owner. You’re supposed to listen to me…” The last bit comes out in a whisper reserved for himself, but he guesses he wasn’t as quiet as he thought he was, because now you’re making eye contact and rising from your haunches.

Fuck, you were coming.

You jog over to where he stands stupidly in his tracks, yelling a loud, “hey, is this your dog?” from across the court. When you get within his proximity, he thinks you’re stretching your hand out to greet him (to which he offers his own), but your limb strategically misses his, and he freezes as he watches you drop the ball in his hand. The blond feels stupid, but he quickly fixes his composure, forcing a stiff smile on his face, trying not to gag at the amount of slobber on his hand.

“Sorry about that, I get a little carried away whenever a dog’s around” you confess, looking down amicably at the furry giant. Bakugou shakes his head in response, mumbling a cool ‘it’s fine’ under his breath. You’re the first to initiate small talk—a pleasantry he finds vexing—but he finds himself hyper-fixating a little too hard on your lips that are spewing words of triviality. Every now and then, he remembers to nod his head, and then he subconsciously tells you his name when the question arises.

His irises shift from your plump lips, to the dip in your collarbone, and then finally, they settle on the dew droplets of sweat that trickle down your chest. The pro hero notices that he hasn’t heard a damn thing you’ve said for the entire duration of this conversation. But now you’re looking at him, and your lips aren’t moving, and fuck, you were definitely waiting for a response.

“Do you wanna fuck?”

It takes him a second to register you’ve said something, and then it takes him another second to register if what he heard was truly what you’d said.

“I'm sorry, what?” he queries, wrapping the leash around his hand once, then twice.

“I asked if you wanted to exchange numbers?” you smile innocently, holding your phone out.

“I've seen you and this pretty girl,” you start, bending down to pet the excited pup, “walking around for a while, and I figured…I don’t know—that I could play around with her some time. you know, if that’s alright with you…”

Oh, so he must’ve heard you wrong the first time, he thinks. Looking down at his pup, the two make eye contact briefly before the furry companion barks in approval, wagging its tail eagerly.

“Yeah, sure,” he nods and gestures for you to hand over your phone. After he punches his digits into your phone, you’re quick to exchange your phone for his, undergoing the same process of punching in little numbers.

When the two of you part ways, he opens his phone again to look at your contact. A small chuckle leaves his lips once he sees the name you saved your number under.

“Tennis girl,” he whispers to himself.

The door to his apartment swings open swiftly, and he unclasps the leash around the dog’s neck before meandering over to the fridge to grab a beer. The first sip is pure elation. He doesn't drink everyday, but he likes to keep a case of this liquid-gold relief at his disposable.

Before he can indulge in another sip, his phone buzzes with a notification. Nobody usually has the balls to bother him after his shifts, but he doesn’t think much of it. Not until it buzzes for a second time, then a third, and now he’s agitated enough to rest his drink on the counter.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he seethes, clobbering over to his room where he threw his phone. The screen flashes brightly from across the room and then fades to black. “Who the fuc—“

He taps the screen to see one message, two image attachments, and a voice memo, all from you. Skeptically, he opens his phone and clicks on your contact to see the messages. The first message says ‘figured you might like these’ and then his vermillion eyes flicker over to the two pictures.

One is angled low enough to show the bottom of your ass, and the other is of you bent over with your hand pushing your panties to the side, cunt front and center, and dripping. Your face isn’t in either, but he knows it’s you because of that damned skirt.

The longer he stares at the pictures, the more his face riddles with confusion, and the more his sweats become impossibly uncomfortable to be in. Then he remembers the voice memo. There's a brief silence before a familiar voice begins to speak. It's low and breathy.

“You know—shit—you’re so fucking clueless. I've s-seen you ogling me for months, and t-today I caught you staring at my chest,” he’s almost certain he can see you playing with your pussy with the lewd sounds that are coming through his phone.

“I asked if you w-wanted to fuck, but you were—fuck—were too caught up in being a p-pervert. Guess you missed your chance...”

The voice note ends there. He utters a few proclivities into the air, sighing frustratedly as he falls back into the marshmallowy plush comforter of his bed. The tightness in his pants is annoying, really fucking annoying, but the dull ache in his cock is much more convincing than the small voice in his head.

Fumbling to untie the drawstrings, he quickly pulls his sweats, along with his boxers, down to rest at the apex of his thighs. His cock is heavy against his abdomen, the mushroomy head burning scarlet and dripping with silk. God, he hated how easily he had fallen victim to your trickery. He was observant, and quick-witted, and could generally tell when a chick wanted to sleep with him.

But this? He’d never expected this. Or whatever this really was. He'd watched you from afar all these months, overheard your many idle conversations with friends as you tied your tennis shoes on the bench, and he often caught glimpses of the smile that graced your face whenever you scored a point. You were innocent, then. at least, that’s the conclusion he came to after clandestinely peering into fleeting moments of your life—but now he figures that’s what you wanted him to see, allowed him to see.

Bakugou's heart begins to thump a little faster with each firm tug to his length, the fixed lub-dub murmur of the organ now something completely unrecognizable. Just as he’s about to shut his eyes, he sees a flash of white from his peripheral view. It’s another text from you.

tennis girl: left me on read :(

tennis girl: you touching yourself rn?

The boy huffs out a breath and throws his head back, continuing his ruthless ministrations on his aching cock. His ears perk up to the sound of yet another notification.

tennis girl: want some help ;)

“The fuck?” His eyes narrow into slits as he reads the message, but he’s too concerned with finishing to respond. When he thinks you’ve finally given up, you once again, prove him wrong. Instead of a few intermittent buzzes, his phone now rings irksomely. You’re requesting a facetime call. He stares at his reflection on the phone, uncertain if he should indulge you or finish without your ‘help’, as you put it, but impulsively picks it up.

The camera is already flipped once the call goes through. You’re sitting on your bed with your legs spread, and a dildo nestled in your cunt. He hears the creak of the bed as your body thrashes and contorts from pleasure, and he hears the pretty moans that spill from your mouth. Of course, you’re the first to break the silence.

“‘M so wet ‘cause of you,” your voice is sultry and sweet, “couldn’t wait to get home ’n touch myself…wanna touch you so bad.”

“Yeah?” he asks, you can’t really see him in the dimness of his room, but you know there’s mischief laced in his voice. “Y’wanna touch me? What would you do?” Bakugou squeezes his girth just before bringing a cupped hand to his mouth to spit.

“Go on, tell me, and then I'll tell y’what I've been dying to do to you for months,” he flips the camera, smoothing the warm spit down his length.

“Been thinkin’ about taking you to my apartment since i first saw you,” you bring the dildo out momentarily, “and you fucking me like this,” you slam the silicone back into your cunt. The dildo wasn’t nearly as big as he was, but the sight of it disappearing in and out of you made his dick jump pathetically.

“That all, princess?” he mocks, like he’s unimpressed by your reply. You vehemently shake your head but realize he can’t see your face, so you open your mouth again to speak.

“No…I think a lot about sucking you off too,” you confess, “and how bad I want you to finish down my throat.”

“So this whole time you’ve been thinking about me like this? What a dirty little slut,” he breathes, a light chuckle leaving his wet, bitten lips.

“Guess it’s my turn now, huh?” Your eyes flutter closed so that you can hone in on his words.

“For starters,” he says matter-of-factly, “you might wanna get a bigger dildo, ‘cause my dick’s a lot bigger than that.”

“Really?” you pull the dildo out of your cunt and opt to use your fingers instead, resting the cold pads on the swell of your clit. Slowly, you circle the flesh, a few whimpers emitting from your throat.

“Yeah, it’d—shit—stretch you out b-better too,” his breathing quickens as he begins to reach his peak. “Been wantin’ to dump my load in that pretty little cunt for a minute.”

“What else?” there’s curiosity nestled under your tongue. You wanna say more to coax him on but find it rather difficult to form a coherent thought.

“‘Bout your thighs wrapped ‘round my head, and stuffing you full of my fingers,” Bakugou’s calloused grip is tighter now, sloppier. You assume from his occasional grunts and curses that he’s close to finishing, and judging by your intermittent pants, he comes to the conclusion that you are too.

With determination, you continue your brutal ministrations on your clit, the nub wholly numb and engorged beneath your fingertips. For a second, you almost forget about the man’s presence, utterly too focused on reaching your own climax, not even paying mind to the fact that your eyes had been glued shut. The sound of slick skin, rubbing against slick skin, reverberates through your phone’s speaker. You’d like to imagine the expressions he’d make if he were here with you now. Would they be soft? Hard? Plain? Or would they be an amalgamation of each. Your imagination doesn’t get the chance to wander too far, because soon, he flips the camera towards his face, almost as if he’d heard your inner monologue.

The light in his room is still dim, save for the bits of the sun peaking through the blinds that aid in exposing half of his face. Most of his features are subdued by the darkness—all but his eyes (and his flushed cheeks)—which seem to hold so much expression in them. Even with just half of his face on display, he still looks pretty. You attempt to see if you can make out any of the rest of his features, but to no avail.

“Turn your camera around, wanna see your face,” it comes out more like a demand than a plea. You do as he says and flip your camera. When his eyes find your own, he sits up against his headboard, the second half of his face now uncovered. Seeing all of his features work harmoniously to make a lewd expression was enough to tip you over the edge, and it wasn’t helping that his open-mouthed pants were growing more and more provocative.

“S-So close, ‘m gonna come!”

“Fuck, go ahead, baby,” he weakly ruts into his fist, “Show me the face you make when you come.”

You feel the knot in your lower abdomen begin to wind tighter and tighter, the pressure on your bladder becoming almost unbearable. Your flicking and circling never falter, that is, until you press down on the spot where your bladder resides beneath, and feel an abundance of pleasure wash over you like an unruly tide. The essence that drips from your core stands out starkly against the dark linen of your bed.

Bakugou watches intently as you whimper and pant through the screen, your chest rising and falling like rose petals in the wind. Your tired, sultry eyes alone are more than enough to make him finish, but then you flip the camera to show your bed and now he’s really close.

“Look at the mess, you did this.”

“God, you’re so f-fucking dirty,” he grits through bared teeth, “Show me your pretty pussy, yeah?”

Once his vermillion eyes meet your cunt, dripping and convulsing, he reaches his peak. The boy releases a strangled moan, falling tirelessly onto his back as his cock streams liquid hot white onto the expanse of his stomach. He uses whatever energy he has left to fist the appendage a few more times, groaning into his neck once he sees the globs of cum coating his knuckles.

The gentle breeze sneaking in through the window aids in cooling down his hot skin. From the window he can see cherry blossoms dancing in the air; his heart slows as he witnesses a single petal stick to his window. Bakugou is brought back to reality upon hearing your voice.

“Hope this isn’t the last time,” your face is softer in the afternoon glow, “don’t think I’ve ever come this hard.” There’s some lingering hope hidden in the obsidian of your eyes. He can’t help but to laugh, of course this wouldn’t be the last time. Not after he’d been dreaming of this for months.

“You won’t hafta hope for nothin’, princess. Next time you’ll be gettin’ the real thing.”

The call ends promptly, and as soon as it does, you get a text.

Bakugou: Free next Friday night at 8. Come to this address.

Bakugou: xxxxx xxxxx Apt.

Your lips upturn into a mischievous smile. He has no idea…

#bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader smut #bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader smut #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader smut #bakugo smut #bakugou smut #:: — LEXI WRITES !

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daughterofthequeen · 5 months

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A New Diagnosis

Pairing: Joel Miller x autistic daughter!reader

Summary: I have an idea. Joel Miller x daughter!reader, based in the camps they had everyone in after the outbreak(so a couple days after Sarah’s death technically) and the reader is a high functioning autistic who stims. So when they get to the camp and because of all the stress she has been under, it’s causing her stimming to flare up like crazy. So Joel and Tommy had to beg and plead to the soldiers, trying to let them know she is autistic and she wasn’t infected, that she just can’t control her stims.

Warnings: Angst, crying, cussing, stimming(not really a warning but its in the story), overstimulated meltdown, denial, most likely inaccurate chain of command about construction work or construction jobs in general, might be a little ooc Joel in one scene I’m not completely sure but it feels like it and I hate it😠😤.

A/N: the reader symptoms and preferences are based on my own, which is also where this idea came from. Ever since the show came out I just wondered what did they do to the people with ticks and stims at the beginning of the outbreak. I mean they eventually had to come up with a way to tell a difference in the beginning of the outbreak before they had the infection detector things, right?

I honestly might rewrite this because I don’t know if I like how this turned out. Usually I’m pretty good at picturing what characters would say in a certain situation, but there’s one part of the fic that I’m not so sure about( you’ll know it when you read it I’m sure). But it’s crazy because I’ve been living like this since the ages of 4 or 5 and it still extremely difficult to describe stimming, even harder writing about it. But I wish I had a Joel Miller parent so I guess I’m projecting a bit in this fic. And this may also be longest fic yet.

So I decided to make this into two parts because I want this posted today because it was supposed to be out yesterday and I don’t want to wait any longer.

Mockingbird (Part 2)

Taglist: @miss-celestial-being @ilovemydinoboi @taraiel @distorted-twink @geralallfandoms @your-shifting-gurl @daemontargaryenwhore @mihstar

What started out as a regular day went to hell in the span of a couple hours. I mean homes being set on fire, families separated, innocents slaughtered due to the fear of a sickness they had no cure for. But I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? Let’s start from the beginning. My name is (Y/n) Miller, and this is the story of how everything went to shit.

I was only 4.

As a kid you’re oblivious to almost everything, but sometimes a child’s behavior can reflect the type of day the family will have whether they realize it or not. And my attitude had been off all that week, until my father’s birthday aka outbreak day. I called it the calm before the storm. That week I was in an overall bad mood. All of my senses had been on high, being overstimulated plus the struggle of always being alone in school. I mean don’t get me wrong I use to talk to some of my classmates, but most likely than not I would’ve been playing by myself either from trying to avoid the bullies or because nobody wanted to play with me in general. But hey, you can’t miss what you’ve never had. I never really understood people, I still don’t but I had my family and they always made everything okay. They never made me feel different about myself. Regardless of me being only four, I understood that the repetitive behaviors were definitely not normal. Along with the what I now know as stimming; physical, vocal, scripting, ticking, etc. I could go on and on about everything that makes me different, but my family had always helped me feel normal. To be honest I didn’t start realizing I was doing all that stuff until one day my dad sat me down and asked me ‘what are you doing’ and ‘are you okay?’, which made me more self-aware. And then there was school, the weird looks and the mean jokes came into play. I’ve rarely caught my family staring, but I knew they were. Growing up and remembering the past helps you realize things you might’ve missed or didn’t understand as a kid. Like the concerned/confused stares I would catch my dad or uncle Tommy giving me before I was diagnosed. I just didn’t know what the looks were for. But the day my father finally decided something was indeed wrong, that it wasn’t just a phase, had him making an appointment to my clinic fast. It was the first time my stimming caused me serious pain. Well, from what I can remember anyway.

July 23, 2002 - Austin,Texas (Y/n is 3 years old)

The day started out like any other. I woke up in my sister’s bed, once I got my bearings I got out of the bed and headed down stairs to see my dad and my sister having one of their many daily debates

“I’m just saying your generations music has nothing on ours- (Y/N)!” After hearing Sarah saying your name, Joel turned around seeing you standing in the kitchen doorway rubbing your eye.

“Hey babygirl. Did you have a good sleep?” He asked as he turned off the stove top and went to pick you up.

“Mhm. I’m hungry, daddy.”

“That’s good because I just cooked your favorite breakfast.” He said as he kissed your cheek and sat you down in the chair across from Sarah, who got the two of you orange juice. Joel then went to grab the plates. There were eggs, sausage, french toast, and he sat a bowl of grapes next to you knowing how much you love them. You all started eating your breakfast. You went straight for the grapes and started eating them, until you spotted something that looked weird to you. Frowning, you push the bowl away and went to the food on your plate.

“Something wrong with your grapes?” Joel asked you noticing the way you frowned up.

“They dirty daddy.” Causing Joel to frown in confusion.

“Dirty? I just washed ‘em.” Joel leaned forward and grabbed the bowl and didn’t see anything abnormal about the grapes. The water in the bowl didn’t even black specs in it that grapes leave behind. “They look fine to me.”

“No. They dirty daddy, look.” Standing in your chair, you leaned over and pointed to a grape with a light brown streak on it and another where it was brown from where the stem was.

“Oh, that doesn’t mean they’re dirty, baby. Grapes just to look like that sometimes or because they’ve gotten older. That’s all.”

“Ew.” You mumbled.

“They’re gonna taste the same.” Joel said as he sat the bowl back down next to you.

“I don’t want them anymore.” You say pushing the grapes away.

“They’re fine, (n/n). I actually think the small brown areas actually make them sweater.” Sarah says trying to reassure her baby sister.

“No.” That was your final statement before you went back to eating the food on your plate.

“Ok, you don’t have to eat ‘em.” Joel states as him and Sarah go back to eating their own food.

———

“(Y/n)!!! Come back here!”

“No!”

“We go through this every time you use the bathroom!”

Sarah was currently chasing you around the house. A daily thing really, but for the last few months you have determined on not washing your hands after using the bathroom. And not with just Sarah. With Joel and Tommy too. Joel usually would have to keep a firm grip on you that disabled you from moving away from the sink, and to keep you from running or flailing your arms around as an attempt to keep him from making you wash your hands.

The first time that happened you guys were at a restaurant. He would be surprised if that whole side of the restaurant didn’t hear you,

“Daddy, I have to use the bathroom.”

“Ok.” Usually he would have Sarah take you but her and Tommy’s food had made it to the table. And since he was still waiting on his, there was no sense in stopping her from eating. He took you out of the high chair, and you two headed to the restroom. After the long process of putting toilet paper on the seat, he sat you on the seat and let you do your business. Once you were finished cleaning yourself up and him flushing the toilet, he waited for you to go towards the sink. But you headed towards the door instead.

“Don’t forget to wash your hands.” Joel said from his spot on the wall he was leaning on with his arms crossed.

Turning towards the sink, you clasped your hands to your chest, letting out a low groan of disgust.

“What is it?”

“I don’t want to touch it.”

“What the sink?” You nodded.

“You have to wash your hands, babygirl. Come on.”

“No.” You whined, and Joel knew then the two of you were going to have a problem.

“Babygirl, please.” He said in a pleading tone and tired tone.

“No!” Joel sighed then picked you up and held you over the sink as he usually would when washing your hands, but this time due to your decision of fighting and squirming in his arms, he had to get a gentle but firm grip on your hands to wash them himself.

“(Y/n).” That caused you to stop in your tracks. The sound was unfamiliar until your mind put together it was your father’s voice. He never says your actual name unless you were in trouble, and even then it would depend. But him calling your name was enough time for Sarah to scoop you up and head to the nearest sink which was the kitchen.

Sarah sat you down after she finished washing your hands. After getting free you pouted and went into the living room to continue playing with your toys before your bladder interrupted you. So invested in what you were doing, you didn’t even hear your Uncle Tommy come in the house.

“What’s for dinner today?” He teased, rubbing the top of yours and Sarah’s head as he passed by each of you.

“I don’t know you’ll have to ask this guy. He was supposed to go to the store but surprise, he didn’t.” Sarah says with a sarcastic smile towards her father who was going through bills. Joel head turned towards Sarah giving a bored look.

“We’re ordering pizza.”

“Fine with me.” Tommy states triggering Joel to role his eyes.

“Of course it is.”

Sarah went upstairs for the book the two of you were reading. To ‘keep her ahead of her future classmates’. While Sarah was upstairs, Tommy eyes trailed over to you, he smiled as he watched you in your own little world playing with your toys while talking to yourself. He watched you for a minute until he saw you stretching your neck. Normally he would’ve thought nothing of it until he realized it was happening constantly. At first they were only seconds apart, then you would stop for a few minutes and start again. There wasn’t an exact pattern, but he caught the rhythm of it.

“Buns neck been bothering her?”

“No.” Joel answered absentmindedly, still invested in the papers he wished he could use as a coaster without consequence.

“You sure?”

“Yeah I’m sure. Why wouldn’t I be sure?” Joel asked, getting annoyed by the fact he kept getting interrupted with his task.

“ ‘Cause she keeps stretchin’ it like it’s bothering her.”

Joel looks up at Tommy who had a slight worried look on his face. Joel then turns around in his chair to see what his brother was talking about. And true to his little brother’s words there you were stretching your neck and shoulder in a way that looks painful if he’s being honest. Joel turned back around to his brother with an equally concerned look. He leans closer towards him and lowers his voice before he started talking signaling Tommy to do the same.

“I don’t know why she does that, and every time I ask her if she’s ok she tells me she’s fine.”

“Maybe she has a crook in her neck.”

“No, if it was a crook we would know. She would be a lot worse. She tends to panic when she has one of those, and doesn’t do a lot of moving around. To stop the ‘bouncy feeling’. This. This is something else. And it’s been getting more frequent lately.”

“Frequent?”

“Yeah, this started a few months ago. It’ll leave and come back after a few weeks, but like I said it’s been happening a lot more often lately. She does it with her hands and wrist too.”

“Hm.”

Joel turned back towards his youngest. “Babygirl, you okay?” He said in a tone reserved for only you and Sarah when she’s upset about something.

You look up from your toys, bright innocent eyes finding your father’s concerned ones.

“Yeah.”

“You sure? Your neck not bothering you?”

“No.” You replied while standing up from your place on the floor and walked over to your father. When you got close enough he automatically picked you up and sat you on his thigh.

“Then why do you keep rollin’ it around honey?”

“I’m not.” Joel frowned in confusion. He’s clearly watching you do it so, either you’re lying for some unknown reason or you just don’t know that you’re doing it. But he’s always able to tell just by asking one question.

“Are you telling me the truth?” Simple, but it works. It was a question he would ask you every time he would think you were lying. And every time you answer you have a tell. When you tell the truth you tend to answer pretty confidently, but when you lie, you always fiddle with something whether it be your clothes, your fingers, or just bouncing your foot.

“Yes.” There’s no fidgeting. Covering up how even more confused he was in the moment he just nodded in understanding even though he didn’t.

“Ok baby, you want to go back to playin’ with your toys?”

“Yeah.” You replied getting down from your father’s lap before he even had the chance to put you down. Then you ran off to start back playing until Sarah came back down the stairs.

“(N/n), story time.” Hearing that you stood up and headed over to the couch with your sister. Before you sat down you picked up your stuffed bunny, Tommy got it for you when you were two. They used to use it to stop you from crying, but now you take it wherever you go. You laid down across the couch with Sarah and had your bunny in front of you in the same position you were to Sarah. She opened the book to where you two left off and started reading stopping at every few paragraphs to let you read.

Joel watched the two of you, his world. He would never understand how a mother would want to give this up.

“Have you thought about getting her checked out?” Tommy’s voice broke Joel from his thoughts.

“Checked for what?” Joel asked frowning at his brother.

“Joel, are you serious? Something could be wrong.”

“She’s fine, Tommy. She’ll grow out of it.”

“Grow out of it? Don’t you want to make sure?”

“Tommy, please.” Now Joel was lying. To himself especially. But that is understandable, what parent wants to accept that something may be wrong with their child. It was a scary thing to think about.

“What if it’s somethin’ wrong? Wouldn’t you want to get Bun’ the help she needs as soon as possible.”

“She doesn’t need help Tommy. I’m telling you she’ll grow out of it.”

“Joel-”

“Just let it go.” Joel whispered in a hardened tone, trying to keep his voice down so the girls wouldn’t hear that anything was wrong. “Look, would you order the pizza for tonight. I’m trying to finish up these bills.” Tommy mumbled a ‘sure’ and got up to make the call. He understood why Joel didn’t want to talk about that kind of stuff, what parent does? But knowing his stubborn nature he won’t act on it unless something happens that causes him to. After hearing the voice of the pizza lady on the line, Tommy uses it as a distraction to get his mind off his niece and his stubborn mule of a brother.

January 16, 2003 - 6:30am

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Sarah sat up with a soft groan and stretches, when she heard whining. She turned toward her sister who was hiding under the covers.

“Time to get up (n/n).” Sarah was about to stand up until she heard you cry out. She pulled back the covers to see you in a fertile position, hands covering your ears, eyes squeezed shut. “Come on (n/n), we- what’s wrong?” Sarah asked starting to panic seeing a tear fall from your eye.

“Too loud!” Sarah was confused for a second before she remembered the alarm was still going off. She quickly reached over to turn it off, and brought you into her arms. She laid you on her chest, rocking you back and forth while rubbing the top of your head, and she softly shushed you until you calmed down. When Sarah heard your cries turn into sniffles and looked down at you.

“You okay?” She asked softly rubbing the top of your head. She was confused as to why you reacted this way but, whatever the reason, it had her extremely worried. After seeing you nod your head she was able to relax, but she knew she still needed to tell dad about what just happened. Sarah got you up so, the both of you could start your morning routine. Everything went semi-smoothly, but that’s to be expected after your reaction to the alarm clock she’s not all that shocked about your agitated behavior. Sarah had just finished fixing your shirt when there was a knock on the bedroom door.

“Come in.”

“Hey, you girls almost ready?”

“Yep, we were just about to head down for breakfast.” Sarah stood from her kneeling position in front of you, letting you know that she was finished. And after going to tuck your bunny in bed you walked over to Joel.

“Unfortunately, you two are going to have to eat breakfast at school.” He said as he picked you up.

“Ew, why?” Sarah asked.

“Well your Uncle Tommy called and said there’s been an emergency at the house we’re working on so, when he pulls up we gotta go.” He grabbed your book bag and started down the stairs since you had decided to fall back asleep, not that he blamed you if he could he would have too. A minute later Tommy pulls up and surprisingly the Adlers weren’t outside, then again they were leaving a little earlier than usual. But, either way they didn’t have time to stop and talk. Sarah was dropped off first, then you. And it wasn’t until Sarah sat down in her first period class when she realized she forgot to tell her dad what happened this morning.

———

Time Skip

Normally, when school gets out you would ride home with Denise, due to her daughter going to the same school and Sarah’s school getting out 10 minutes after your school does. Then add another 20-30 minutes of her having to take the school bus then the city bus to get home. When Sarah makes it to the neighborhood she has to pass by Denise house to get to yours which is when she picks you up, but today didn’t work out that way. It started when Joel got a phone call from your school.

Joel and Tommy were currently managing the workers that were doing the framework of the building they were working on. Well Tommy was, Joel was trying to keep calm while talking to the construction manger.

“Look all I’m saying is we should be getting paid more since we’re working more hours than what we were told we would be working, don’t you think.” The construction manger has been going back and forth with Joel for about 10 minutes now, way too long for Joel’s liking.

“No, I don’t. Especially since the reason we’re in this situation is because you guys didn’t do your jobs right in the first place. You’re lucky you’re still gettin’ paid the amount that was agreed upon.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that if you and your guys spent as much time working as you do talking and taking breaks you probably would’ve done your jobs right the first time, and we wouldn’t be in this situation, or behind a day.” The manger didn’t take too kindly to that statement, and Joel was so close to losing his nerve until he was saved by the bell, literally. Right before he was about to tell the construction manager that he can stick it where the sun don’t shine, his phone started ringing.

Joel sighed while taking his phone out of the carrying case to see it was the preschool calling much to his confusion. He didn’t even notice the construction manager was still talking.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Take it up with Tommy.” He said while waving him off and answering his phone. “Hello.”

“Mr. Miller.”

“Yeah.”

“This is Elizabeth, (Y/n)’s teacher. We need you to come to the school.” Joel immediately sighs, dragging his hand over his face.

“What’d she do?” He replies in an exhausted tone. He never gets calls from your schools unless it’s to let him know he needed to bring a change of clothes for you. All the preschoolers have to have an extra pair of clothes that’s to be kept in the classroom just in case the kids have an accident or something. But you’ve been acting out a lot lately, and he wouldn’t be surprised if it was for something like that.

“It may be better for you to come up to the school so we can explain it to you face-to-face.” Joel didn’t like the way this was sounding. It was hard for him to pinpoint the emotion that was coming off her voice, which worried him more.

“Okay, I’m on my way.” He sighed while hanging up the phone. He walked over to Tommy who looks like he actually did tell the construction manager to shove it, going off the look on the of their faces. “Tommy, I need you to watch over everything here for a while.”

“What’s goin’ on?”

“That was (Y/n)’s school, they need me to go up there.”

“Is everything okay with bun’?”

“I don’t know her teacher wouldn’t tell me anything. I’m sure she’s fine, she probably just got into it with a kid in her class again.”

“Okay, call me when you find out what’s goin’ on.”

“I will. Alright I’m off, and make sure they actually do their job correctly this time.”

“I got it, go on.”

After that Joel made his way to the truck. Even though he says he’s sure she’s fine, he couldn’t help but worry about you. The tone of your teacher didn’t sound good at all. She sounded worried. And sad? Were you sick? He could deal with a common cold, but your teachers tone indicated something worse than that. And there has been a deadly virus going around the world, it hasn’t made it to America yet at least that’s what they’re telling everyone. But what if it has made it over seas? There’s no cure for it, and what if you had it? That couldn’t happen, to you or Sarah. He wouldn’t know what he would do if he lost one of you. No. Stop. That’s not going to happen. That would never happen. He hates when his mind gets like this, but as a single father the need to protect the two of you is the most important thing to him, and that makes him worry even more because that’s something he can’t ever fail at, and he doesn’t even want to think what’ll happen if he does.

He gets out of the truck and speed walks towards your classroom. He had gotten into his own head, but there’s something inside of him that’s telling him this is as serious as it feels.

“Mr. Miller.” He turns upon hearing his name being called, seeing your teacher standing in the doorway of the office.

“Where is she?” He asks as he makes his way to her. Once he got close enough he realized the tone in her voice wasn’t sadness, but pity? Why would she pity him, and where were you?

“She’s in the principals office. But! But before you go in we should probably explain what happened and why.” She said stopping him from brushing past her.

“What did she get into a fight with another kid or somethin’?” Joel ask impatiently.

“No-”

“Okay, then it can wait.” He moves to fast for her to stop and walks into the principals office to see you sitting in a chair with dried tear stain down your cheeks. He quickly kneeled in front of you gently grasping your hands in his.

“What’s wrong, babygirl. What happened?”

“I wanna go home.” You mumbled

“Ok, you want to tell me why?”

“Mr. Miller, we really need to talk to you.” The principal finally spoke up motioning to the officer hallway. He huffed as he stood up and followed the principal out, but not before he kissed your forehead and told you that he would be back.

“Okay, what’s so important that you had to drag me away from my daughter, who’s been crying? And why is she crying? I swear if that Richardson kid put her hands on her again-” He was annoyed with everyone at this point everyone besides you obviously, he just doesn’t understand why they couldn’t tell him while he comforted his daughter.

“We’re sorry, Mr. Miller. We just didn’t want to make her think that she was in trouble, we just got her to calm down.”

“So, she’s fine?”

“Physically, yes.”

“What? What does that mean?”

“Ms. Elizabeth?” The principal could he was getting upset so she found it best to let your teacher explain what happened.

“Mr. Miller.”

“Would y’all stop calling my damn name and actually tell what the hell’s going on with my daughter?

“Well (Y/n) has been in an agitated mood all day, but that’s not the problem. Uhm, the kids just got back from lunch about 30 to 40 minutes ago, and after they eat I usually let them have play time before I start their last lesson for the day before nap time. Today during play time (Y/n) had a little outburst.” Elizabeth knew she was beating around the bush, but that’s because she has heard this conversation happen many times with other teachers and parents and most often than not the parents don’t respond to well.

“Little outburst?”

“Well not really an outburst, but more of a meltdown. This is the special needs teacher, Ms. Thomson, and a friend of mine so I know what signs to look out for in a child. And (Y/n) has been showing these signs since the beginning of the year. They can be overlooked especially in girls and be seen as ‘normal’ and in a way it is. For her anyway.”

“What are you talking about? Signs for what?” Joel asked in frustrated tone.

Ms. Elizabeth look over at the special needs teacher to nervous to continue, and to make sure that she’s positive of (Y/n)’s condition. To which her friend responded with a nod.

“We think (Y/n) has autism. And before you say anything, the signs are all there. I’ve been watching her since her first day of becoming my student. And we highly recommend that she be tested.”

“What? She’s not autistic. I think I would know if my daughter had autism. Look at her, does she look autistic to you?”

“Autism doesn’t always have a look Mr. Miller, and just because she doesn’t have a physical disablement doesn’t mean she’ll be any less autistic than someone with one. That’s why we recommend getting her tested to find out how far she is on the spectrum.”

“You sound so sure that, that’s what it is. How did y’all come up with autism from her having a ‘meltdown’? And what do you mean by meltdown?”

“Well after I sent the kids to go off and begin playing I noticed (Y/n) hadn’t moved from the table, she just sat there, covering her ears with tears in her eyes. She had been in that position since they came back from lunch. When I asked her what was wrong, she told me the other kids were being too loud. But before I could offer a solution the students behind us started screaming louder than what they were, which triggered somewhat of chain reaction with the rest of the class, so I turned around make sure everything was ok but when I that’s when (Y/n) ran to the bathroom and locked herself in. I had to send the other kids to sit in a classroom with another teacher. (Y/n) was crying. Sobbing. When I unlocked the door she was sitting in the corner squeezing the sides of her head so hard it looked painful. All to try and block out the world because it was too much for her. It broke my heart to see her like that because (Y/n) is sweetest little girl I’ve ever met, and to see her in pain like, any child, it’s a hard thing to see. I had to wrestle with her a little to keep her from hurting herself, but I was able to get her calm enough to sit her in my lap and have her hold onto me while I called Ms. Thomson, who was able to calm her further until she reassociated with everything around her.

“Pain?” That’s when the special needs teacher finally decided to step in and say something.

“It’s called a sensory overload, Mr. Miller. It’s very common in the Autism Spectrum. It’s when someone on the spectrum becomes to overwhelmed with the world around them, and if they can’t find some kind of outlet from everything more than likely it’s going to cause a break down in one way or another.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s autistic-“

“Mr. Miller. Does (Y/n) walk on her tippy toes?

“Yeah, but all babies do that.”

“How does she act when she is in a large crowd or around someone she doesn’t know.” Ms. Thomson was completely calm while asking these questions. Knowing that getting agitated or saying something wrong could keep you from getting the help you need.

“The same as any other kid.”

“Does she get in mood where she doesn’t want to talk or just can’t talk in general?”

“Ok look, you’re only naming things all kids do.”

“Yes, but like every thing else on the spectrum there’s a line where it occurs more than it should. Let me ask you one more question Mr. Miller.

He doesn’t even reply he only took a breath to let her know he didn’t want to talk about the topic anymore. Still in denial, even after everything they just told him.

“Does she tend to twitch, or repeat her movements? Have you ever seen her stiffen or strain her body?” Joel didn’t even reply.

“Your silence speaks volumes Mr. Miller. Please, get her tested. It will help her make it in a society that wasn’t made for her. Giving her benefits she can use to even the playing field with neurotypicals. Don’t you think she deserves that?” Joel really didn’t want to accept this. Knowing that if you are autistic, you’ll face more difficulties in life. All because you were different. Difficulties you’re already facing, he just didn’t want to admit it.

“What do I need do to get her tested?” Joel asked after his little debate. All he can hope that the test comes out as negative, but that’s a long shot, given the special needs teacher already seems so sure, the test was just to confirm it.

Ms. Thomson who was smiling after hearing his agreement answered him. “Nothing, I already have an appointment set up for her with a neurodevelopmental pediatrician, who is also a good friend of mine. So, as soon as she finishes with the evaluation you will get the results. I just needed your approval.”

“Okay. Uh, thank you.”

“No problem.”

“Is it ok if I take her home?” Joel ask looking towards your teacher.

“Yes, I think that’s the best thing for her right now. Being in her safe space with all her things will help her get some much needed rest. I will write down the appointment information and what you’ll need for the evaluation and put it in her backpack for you.”

“Thank you.” After that Joel walked back into the office to see you playing with one of the pens on the principals desk in one hand and your head laying on top of the other. “Hey babygirl. You want to go home?” He asked as he kneeled in front of the chair, while making sure to keep his voice at a low level. Once you nodded he stood up, gently grabbed your hand, and the two of you went to get your bag and appointment information.

January 20, 2003 - 1:00 p.m.

Joel and Tommy were on their lunch break at a burger place when Joel’s phone started ringing. He cleaned his hands and took his phone out it’s carrying case before answering. “Hello?”

“Is this Joel Miller?” A woman’s voice.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, good. This is Tonia, the neurodevelopmental pediatrician that did (Y/n)’s evaluation.”

“Right, so what were the results?”

“Well, the documents are ready for you to come and get them, and I will break everything down once you get here, if you want.”

“Uhhhh yeah, I’ll be there in about 20-25 minutes.”

“Ok, see you then. Bye bye.”

“Bye. Get up Tommy, we gotta go.”

“I’m still eatin’”

“Tommy, bring it with you. Jesus.” Joel mumbled as he rolled his eyes at his younger brother.

They made it to the building, and Joel was doing his best to remember the way to the correct office while also trying to calm his anxious mind. When they made it to the office, Joel knocked on the door frame of the open door before walking in Tonia’s office.

“Here you go.” She said as she handed the papers to Joel who noticed it was about 15 pages.

“Wha-what am I looking at?” He asked looking up at the pediatric who let out a low chuckle, she gets the same reaction from almost all of the parents she encounters.

“Well first things first, I’ve concluded (Y/n) does have ASD. She is what we call a high-functioning autistic, and I came up with that diagnosis based on her teacher’s observations, your own, and from the activities I had her to do. The evaluation explains everything of what that means in detail like her sensitivity to sounds, her not liking to touch certain things, lack of social skills, etcétera.”

“So, what does this mean for her?”

“Well, she can stay in Ms. Elizabeth’s class, there’s no need to move her to the special needs class permanently. But she does have special education, and all that means is that Ms. Thomson will take her in her classroom to help her find ways to calm herself when she feels herself getting overstimulated. Or if she can’t and Ms. Elizabeth sees she is getting overwhelmed or she tells Ms. Elizabeth she’s getting overwhelmed they’ll send her to Ms. Thomson class or a quiet place for her to calm down. And maybe she’ll even have better luck with making friends in the special needs classroom than she does in her regular class. And education wise it means when she gets test she can go to a different classroom to take it and she’ll be able receive more time on any tests she has to take as well.” She looked up from her notes, making sure she got all the main checkpoints, but when she did Joel’s face told her everything she needed to know.

“Mr. Miller, the worst thing you can do for her is to feel bad for her. There’s no reason too.”

“No reason to? The whole point of this was to make sure she gets the help she needs to keep up with everyone else.”

“No, the reason for this was to make sure she had the help if and when she needs it. Academically (Y/n) is one of the smartest kids in her class, actually in her grade. It might take more effort, but she’s keeping up with her classmates. Some of the worst things you can do is pity her, hold her back due to being overprotective, or use it as an excuse to make her seem more fragile. I’m not saying she’s not going to have challenges because she is, but all you have to do is stay beside and make sure she keeps working at it till she gets it. And stay way from describing her condition as ‘slow’ or ‘retarded’. And you can’t punish her because of her stimming or overstimulated behavior. Not saying that you would! I mean- you just wouldn’t believe how many parents would get agitated and angry about things their child can’t control, but I’m sure you’ll be fine. You’re attentive to her, and that’s something she’s going to need from you growing up.” Joel nodded in understanding still skimming through the evaluation packet.

“Thank you for doing this in such short notice.”

“No problem. She’s one of the sweetest kids I’ve met. And cutest.” That caused a smile to appear on Joel’s face. He hasn’t been able to smile much since Thursday, always thinking about you and the whole situation. Which has been weighing on his mind literally 24/7.

“Thank you for this, you have a nice day.” He said before turning around to leave out the office.

“You as well.” She replied also smiling at Tommy, who smiled and winked back, reaching his goal of getting her to laugh.

Joel barely made through the door before Sarah hit him with a “what’d she say?”

“Uhhh- where’s (Y/n)? And how’d you know she called?”

“She called the house phone first. And (Y/n) is upstairs, I just got her out the tub, which she didn’t like, at all.”

“She didn’t want to get out?”

“No, she didn’t want to get in. But she should be finished putting on her pajamas by now.”

“Ok, go get her and I’ll tell y’all the results.”

“Ok.” Sarah ran upstairs to get you, when you both got down stairs and sat on the couch, Sarah sat on the right side of Joel, and he picked you up and sat you on his lap tucking you into his side.

“How was school today, honey.” Joel turning his head towards you.

“Good. Ms. Elizabeth gave me headphones to put on my ears when everything got too loud again.”

“Did she? That was real nice of her.”

“Yeah. How was your day, daddy?”

“It was really good, babygirl. Thank you for asking.” The smile you gave him made his whole day. He thought back to what the pediatrician said about not pitying you because that’s not something you need from him. Looking at you now he realized she was right. He’s going to do his best to give you what you need. Whatever it may be, and he knows you’re going to grow into a smart and beautiful woman. He reached down and kissed your temple getting laugh out of you, a sound he would never get tired of.

Joel turned his towards Sarah, about to ask her how her day went stopped him before he started.

“My day was fine, the same. What did she say?” Joel paused for a second before he chuckled at her before pointing to the where he sat the evaluation.

“That’s the paper, she gave me that explains everything.” He blinked and Sarah had the papers in her hand, while she started reading he turned back to you to explain everything to you somehow.

“Ok babygirl. Do you remember test you had to take with the lady a few days ago?” After you nodded he continued. “You remember she told you it’s going let us know if you think differently than everybody else?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it turns out you do.”

“Is that bad?”

“No! No, no, no. It’s not bad at all, and don’t let anyone tell you that it is. Ok?”

“Ok.”’

“All it means is some things may be a little harder or more overwhelming to you than other people, but it also means better at other things too.”

“Like what?”

“Like being artistic, and solving puzzles. But it also means you can be smarter than others in your class. You may have to learn some things in a different way, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be smarter. You already are. Ms. Elizabeth told me you were one of the smartest people in your grade.”

“She did!?”

“She did.”

“Wow.” You whispered in awe.

“Yeah, that’s a big deal, and daddy is so proud of you. You remember that, ok? No matter how big you get.”

“I promise, daddy.”

“Good. I love you babygirl.” He said, pressing another kiss to your temple.

“I love you too, daddy.” You said placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Awwwww, that’s so sweet. What are we eating for dinner? I’m hungry.” Sarah interrupted and Joel huffed out a laughed placing a quick kiss on her temple as well.

“I’m proud of you too baby.”

“I know, dad.” She said softly smiling.

“How about we go out for dinner? I really don’t feel like cookin’.”

“Fine with me. Come on (Y/n), let’s go put some clothes on.”

“Okay!” You said as you jumped up from Joel’s lap and ran off to catch up to your big sister.

A/n: Long story short the story was too long🤭🙇‍♀️😭 so I decided to split it into two parts. I hope you guys enjoy, sorry I took so long. But I love you guys for being patient, I really appreciate it.

#joel miller x autistic!reader #joel miller x platonic!reader #joel miller x daughter!reader #joel miller x reader #hbo tlou #tlou fanfiction #A New Diagnosis #joel miller x autistic!daughter!reader #joel miller x autistic daughter!reader

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hellsslibrary · 10 months

Text

✧･ﾟ:*NSFW Alphabet with Riddle Rosehearts*:･ﾟ✧

DNI : minors.

!!Warnings : switch(mostly sub)!bottom!Riddle, kink for size difference, oral, praise kink, soft sex, teasing, roleplay(King and Queen of Hearts), pet play, male reader.

Trey <————«« Riddle »»————> Jack

Heartslabyul. Riddle Rosehearts.

A = Aftercare (What are they like after sex?)

He is very tired after sex, no matter what the pace was, no matter who dominated, no matter how many rounds and how intense the sex was. He is always tired. He also has a weak throat, I think, so he's always thirsty. So take care of the cute, red-haired boy, okay?

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Well... I guess his favorite body part in you is your eyes. He loves the way they shrink, looking down at him as he lies helpless underneath you, writhing in pleasure. He loves the way you close them when he pleases you. And he just loves your loving, sensual look when you talk about loving him.

His favorite body part in him is probably all parts of his body anyway. He's been very prepared for your first time by reading everything there is to know about two men having sex and... He's probably been doing some practice so somehow he loves everything about him and won't pick out anything about him.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

Considering his overly balanced and proper diet, his sperm is probably one of the most perfect. Like the truth, this is the most ordinary sperm, and it is released in a measured, normal amount, absolutely nothing unusual.

As for you, he'd rather you cum outside of him. He just doesn't want to give you the hassle of washing it out of him and himself too. Although he doesn't mind if you want to cum inside, yes.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Mmm, since the beginning of the relationship, he may have had the idea of role-playing the King and Queen of Hearts (Well, she's literally his prototype, so yeah). And, given that the king is much more loyal and kind (albeit still as infantile as his wifey), you would take a more submissive position, and he would, on the contrary, be more dominant and then you would violate one of the rules of the queen and on you would have hung a collar, though very unpleasant and heavy :( .Well, I leave everything else to your taste, imps~.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?)

He's... a total virgin. His mother is clearly "one partner for life", at least for her ideal son, so yes, he is definitely a virgin. Although his mother probably taught how to handle the female body and certain parts of it, apparently confident that her son would not be able to fall in love with a guy.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Mmm, doggy style? He doesn't really like it when you see his face, although he loves when you play with his body however you want, but in the end he definitely gives up and puts his head on the pillows, exposing half of his face to you.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He is definitely serious. Although if you have the most ordinary relaxed, sensual sex where you just enjoy each other, then he can lower his walls a little and joke here and there, but not much.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Definitely very clean, the hair is just completely shaved off. Like really, how can Riddle of all people not be clean there? Although the color matches, the same strawberry red.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Of course very strongly! For him, sex is primarily a moment of your privacy, a moment where you can enjoy each other without unnecessary factors. He is incredibly romantic, even if sometimes he can be shy about it.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He hardly has time for that, anyway. But I guess he doesn't do it often anyway, he'd rather have sex with you than his hand or anything.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Kink for praise, obviously! I won't even explain it, it's just Riddle. I think pet play. Like why not? He will gladly put himself under your command, knowing that you do not want to harm him. Or he will take command. Depends on your tastes. And I have one thought that maybe he has a kink for tenderness(?). I don't know how to explain it better, but I think it's the caring and gentle handling of him that turns him on during sex.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Within those places where ABSOLUTELY NO ONE can see or hear you. But probably the bed, he's simple enough in his looks.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

I think it fires up surprisingly fast or not at all. Although given his temperament, this should not be surprising. It's just the truth... One moment he'll have a hard-on from a few words whispered in his ear from you, and the next time he won't have a hard-on even after you teasingly rub his cock through his pants.

N = NO (Something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

Sex in public or semi-public places. Too much use of pain. And probably humiliation (albeit in a playful or, uh, romantic way maybe), but if you tease him like that... You better not do it.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He loves to give. After all, he read a lot of books before your first time, like I said before, so he definitely knows what he's doing... Only in his head, of course.

Although he still loves to receive, of course! Blowjob, rimming, eating out, whatever! He likes everything as long as you do it. (Although for some reason it seems to me that he preferred rimming/eating out).

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Slower and gentler tempo. He does not like to rush, he wants everything to be beautiful, cute and romantic. So he definitely prefers this pace.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He... Not a fan of that. Absolutely not a fan of this. One orgasm is probably not enough for him to satisfy himself. But if you or he really wants to fuck, but you don't have too much time, then of course he will agree.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He won't take risks, nope. Experiments of course. But he will not risk your reputation, health, or anything else. But to satisfy your perverted fantasies or offer his own, he is happy to.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Well, it lasts quite an average amount of about 5-10 I guess. Although somewhere around 12, he is already starting to get overstimulated.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He didn't have them. He considered it too dirty and unpleasant. Like who needs toys if there are hands, genitals and stuff? He... Began to treat them neutrally after starting a relationship with you. At least he doesn't mind them, and he'll keep something if you give it to him, but he's unlikely to buy it himself.

U = Unfair (How much do they like to tease)

Riddle will not tease you if you are dominant. He wants to be completely obedient and a good boy for you, although he may tease you a little if it pleases you, but he will immediately finish with any disapproval from you. But he loves to tease you when he dominates. He just finds something sexy in your pleading or in your facial expression when he teases you.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He thought he would be quiet like 1/10. But finished somewhere at 7-8/10. It's loud enough, yes. He doesn't scream though. But it's still very loud and that changes that fact. It's too easy for him to feel pleasure when it all starts, so he just can't handle it.

W = Wild Card (Get a random head canon for the character of your choice)

He definitely has a kink to the size difference, it's true, you can't deny it. He's just tiny, and he's tiny there too. I'm just heading the headcanon for the fact that he has a small dick and has always been shy about it, even at the beginning of a relationship with you (well, I mean you're a guy biologically, if not, grow your dick). But after all, why does he need a big dick if he's the bottom, right? :)

X = X-Ray (Let's see what's going on in those pants, picture or words)

Very slim. Maybe a little muscle, but it seems to me that there are not so many of them. Well, his penis is small in both size and girth, as I said earlier. 3-4 inches / 7-10 cm.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It is very low. I doubt he ever wanted to have too much sex, other than his puberty, of course. But on his own, he doesn't want to fuck very often, so in almost all situations you need to offer it.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fell asleep afterwards)

He... I think he generally has a hard time falling asleep, worrying about something or remembering. But I think next to you and even more so, given that he is tired, I think he will fall asleep quickly enough.

#seme male reader #top male reader #dom male reader #a!writes.#sub character #sub twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x male reader #twisted wonderland smut #twisted wonderland x reader #riddle x male reader #sub riddle #riddle x reader #riddle smut #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle Rosehearts x male reader #twisted wonderland headcanons

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mrchiipchrome · 1 year

Text

Sunscreen

W.C.- 2 k

“Have you got everything we need? Sunscreen? Towels? My sudoku’s?”

“Check. Check and check. I’ve got everything we need Lee, and even if I did the other girls are gonna pack plenty of things. You’ve seriously going to have to calm down, we’re spending the day at the beach.”

“Yeah I guess you’re right, I’m sorry”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for, my love. Now come on, let’s go.”

You put your hands on her waist, pulling her in for a kiss full of love. The beach bag is slung haphazardly over your right shoulder after you’d checked its contents as per Leah’s request. The two of you had been invited to an Arsenal beach outing, the last meeting before everyone shipped off to Australia for the World cup.

Releasing her waist from your iron grip, you walk out the door side by side with your fiancée but not before stealing another quick kiss from her usually pouting lips. You unlock the car for Leah remotely as you lock up the house, triple checking that your house was locked up before joining Leah in the car. Settling into the driver's seat, you lean back and put the bag in the backseat before putting the key in the keyhole and starting the engine.

With one hand on the wheel and one on the back of Leah’s headrest, you look through the back window as you maneuver your way out of the driveway. Leah can’t resist pressing a soft kiss against the exposed skin of your neck, resulting in you stopping your movements entirely too distracted by the affection from your favorite person.

Waking from your slight trance, you continue your earlier actions of backing out. DJ Williamson makes her appearance as she connects her phone to the aux and starts to play the playlist she made specially for the two of you, made up of your shared favorite songs and lyrical pieces.

Jamming out, you’ve driven about half of the journey when the music gets cut off and the sound of someone calling replaces it. Seeing the face of a certain Irish captain paired with ‘Leprechaun 🇮🇪🍀’ clues you in to who’s calling you. Accepting the call you are instantly met with the screaming voice of Katie Mccabe floating around the air of the enclosed space of the car.

“Ey! Where are ya? We’ve been here for a while now”

“My dear Katie, we’re there in like 10 minutes don’t you worry. Did you manage to drag Ruesha with you?”

“I sure did” You hear the sound of the phone being passed through the speakers in the car, enforcing every little sound coming from the other end of the phone.

“You asked for me, darling?”

“Rue, my love! How you doing? Been missing you, yeah” You and Ruesha had clicked as soon as you had met and became best friends faster than the Flash could run, ever since then you’ve been calling each other pet names for fun. What made it even more fun was how your partners hated it, your favorite activity outside of football was to annoy them two.

“Been dealing with my crybaby, but otherwise I’ve been alright darling. How about you? How’s it been dealing with Grumps?” Snorting at the nickname Ruesha’s given Leah, you can feel her glare burning into the side of your face.

“Leah’s been much less grumpy since I proposed, maybe you should take a page out of my book and pop the question to Katie so she’ll stop being so feisty.” The words falling from your lips are words you know are going to come into fruition within the next couple weeks, Ruesha having told you her plans as soon as you told her yours.

A ‘hey!’ comes from the background of the call, Katie clearly having heard your comment on her feistiness.

“Right, we’re pulling in now so we’ll see you soon.” Surprisingly it’s not you who speaks this time, instead it’s Leah who ends the call when she’s done.

After you’ve put the car in a parking space and turned off the engine, you reach over and open the compartment in front of Leah’s legs, pulling out a roll of sports tape to put over her engagement ring so that she won’t lose it. Taking her left hand into yours, bringing it up to your lips to kiss the back of it before placing kisses to her fingertips with the same tenderness you always have with her. Pulling off a bit of the tape, you put the thin strip of the sticky material over the silver band sitting prettily on her slender finger.

“Like that. I did a pretty good job, right?” The kiss she presses to your lips serves as confirmation and you sigh contentedly into the passionate kiss. Leah takes the opportunity to slip her tongue into the opening between your lips, exploring your mouth like she’s done so many times before. Swiftly pulling away from her addictive lips is harder than you would think it would be, and the whine that leaves her kiss swollen lips has your knees weak.

“Lee, we’ve gotta go and join the others no matter how much I want to let this play out.”

“Let’s go then.”

Exiting the car, you pluck the bag from the back seat before locking the car and joining Leah where she’s stood near the front of it. Taking her hand in yours again, you two walk in the hot sand towards the placement of the group of footballers.

When you finally arrive at the group, you hand Leah the picnic blanket you brought to sit on. She places it over the burning hot sand before taking the bag from your practically vibrating form, knowing how excited you were to get in the water and play with the teammates who were as ‘mature’ as you. Pulling your shirt over your head, you expose the bathing suit that had been hiding under the article of clothing, and the friends surrounding you let out a few whistles.

“Bye, babe” Trying to slip away into the water before Leah makes you put on the suffocating sun lotion, you get about 1 meter before she realizes what it is you’re trying to do.

“Wait Y/n! You really didn’t think that I would forget right?” Gesturing for you to come back, you let out a low grumble before returning to her now sitting form ready to be smothered in sunscreen. You look on as she squirts the lotion into her palm before she dips her right index and middle finger into the puddle and takes your face between two of her fingers. Tapping her fingers all over your face, she leaves behind tracks of white that are going to be blended out within a short while. When she decides that the blobs are spread out evenly enough, she starts to rub it around and effectively blends it out. Moving on to your neck, she takes what’s left of the puddle in her hand and smears it all over your neck before motioning for you to turn around so that she can repeat the process on your back. Her fingers massage the sunscreen into the skin of your back and you have to bite down on your lip to prevent the groan from escaping the vicinity of your throat.

A short time later, the entirety of your body has been sun lotioned and it’s your time to return the favor of covering the difficult parts to reach. Watching carefully as Leah takes her shirt off, you swear you’re in heaven as you see her abs flex with her movements. As she lays down on her stomach, you put the cold liquid directly on her back instead of your hand before spreading it evenly over every strong and incredibly visible muscle. When you’re done, you give her a light tap on the bum to show her that you’ve completed the task before you hand her the tube of sunscreen, ready to take off towards the water. She turns around to give you a kiss before you’re allowed to run down to the waves.

Half an hour later is when you start missing your girl, walking up to her with water dripping all over the place from your body. Leah’s laying on the blanket, eyes closed as she’s obviously tanning lightly. You get the perfect idea when you notice that she doesn’t seem to acknowledge your presence coming up to her, but like always Leah knows you better than anyone meaning she knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“Don’t you dare, Y/n.”

“Do you have eyes everywhere or something?” Your voice is filled with disbelief as you question her.

“No you’re just really predictable” She tells you while throwing one of the towels at your still dripping body.

“As much as I want to contest that, I know that you’re gonna win so I won’t even try. We’re gonna go play chicken fight, you want to join?” The question is more of a formality than anything, you know Leah just as well as she knows you. When she shakes her head you lean down to kiss her and hand her back the towel she had given you. Walking down towards where you know Ruesha’s sitting, you ask her if she wants to join in on the game, the two of you against Katie and Beattie. She agrees as soon as you say Katie, always down to knock her girlfriend down a peg.

Leah watches on as Katie complains about you pairing up with her girlfriend before both you and Jen go down under the surface to let the two women sit on your shoulders. You keep a tight grip on her knees so that she won’t fall off your shoulders. A countdown is started and as it gets to 1, you start moving towards Jen and Katie, and as the women on top of your shoulders clasp hands with each other trying to push each other off Leah hears a question coming from left.

“To think that you want to spend the rest of your life with Y/n is really sweet. Your relationship is cavity provoking by how sweet it is.” Caitlin expresses her feelings with the statement, and Leah can’t help but agree.

“She’s my person, y’know. I’ve loved her since I was little, there’s no denying that I’m doing the right decision by marrying her”

When Leah turns back to where you were just a second ago, she can’t spot you anywhere. She figures that you’ve just gone underwater again, but as she feels your cold and wet body on her warm and dry one she quickly realizes how wrong she was. The sound of her shriek has the entire team looking in your direction and seeing what was happening. As Leah pushes you off her and into the sand, you let out a loud laugh at her immediate reaction.

“I regret agreeing to marry you.” Her playful tone lets you know that she isn’t serious, that and the conversation you’d overheard.

“No you don’t”

“You’re right, I don’t”

The rest of the day goes by in a flash as you finally manage to pull Leah with you to swim with the promise of a shared shower as soon as you come home. You eat, talk and joke around with the rest of your teammates and when it is time to return home, Leah has to practically drag you away from your friends before you get reminded of your deal. The entire car ride home is spent in silence, tired from the outing with your friends.

The first words are muttered when the front door is closed and locked.

“How about that shower I was promised?”

Soon the bathroom looks more like the laundry room with all the clothes strewn about haphazardly, but you don’t mind in the slightest as long as you get that long awaited shower with your fiancée who you love more than anything.

Guess who's caught the flu? 😍🤞 (spoiler alert: it’s me) (no joke my body is actually in a lot of pain lmao)

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso imagines #woso x reader #woso imagine

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joonberriess · 2 years

Text

·˚ ༘ 💌 IMAGINE┊jungkook as a boxer and your boyfriend. he’s your ride or die and you’re his too. a modern day Bonnie and Clyde.

TAGS — toxic!jk, possessive sex, angry sex, angst, glamourized toxic relationship, abusive due to jk’s aggression be warned, headcanons + some plot!

WORD COUNT — 3.5 k

+ Jeon Jungkook is an infamous underground boxer, he doesn't play by the rules and he doesn't like a clean fight. You can guess what type of person he's like out of the ring. He's your typical asshole: snarky, perverted, and only intelligent in what seems like the streets. He's got issues. Loads of them and he isn't one to shy away things often being blunt since he could care less what people think of him.

+ Jungkook has a horrible habit of being in and out of relationships, none making it past a day or two cause his attention is being caught by a new girl. He can sweet talk like he's your prince charming but fucks you like a common whore. He's cocky too, knows the ladies want him and it strokes his ego to know they're all dying for him.

+ He meets you at a family wedding he goes to, you're sitting so pretty in the center with your arm tucked into your daddy's. So you're a good girl, he muses, it's all the more reason to approach you. He's infatuated, he has to have you now as there's no way he can skip out on the opportunity of a lifetime as he considers it. You end up rejecting him many many times cause you know of his reputation.

+ In your relationship he's possessive and jealous. Jungkook fully trusts you, he doesn't trust anyone else and sees himself like your protector to which he is (to a certain extent) but he needs to understand not everyone is threat. Jungkook loves you more than life itself, he's downright obsessed with the idea of being with you until the end of time but overall he tries to be a good boyfriend to you. Even if your father doesn't approve of him, *cue the "daddy pass the salt" fiasco.

━ (음악)

; his playlist

1. todas mueren por mi - cartel de santa

2. first class - jack harlow

3. love n hennesy - a.chal

4. bonnie & clyde - dean

5. malibu - ph-1

"Y es que es asi, todas muren por mi, y es que es asi, todas muren por ti," - Cartel De Santa

"If I were you I wouldn't," some girl pipes up from beside you, "woman to woman, he's not good for you." You're not stupid, you know who she's referring to and you can feel a small amount of annoyance hit you.

"Well," you softly smile, it's in your nature to be polite even if she is meddling in what doesn't concern her, "good thing you aren't me."

She scoffs, mumbling something about it being your loss but you see it as a win. You're so used to all these girls pitying you and trying to "warn" you about Jungkook. You know perfectly the type of guy he was and is right now. It wasn't like you jumped in blindly you made sure to be very clear with him, one screw up and you were leaving.

Jungkook's infamous playboy behavior exceeds him, no one can believe the once eligible bachelor is now in a relationship. His little groupie is so disappointed their favorite fuck buddy was off the market. They wonder how you do it given his little reputation and stuff. Do you ever get tired of random girls telling you he used to text them? Or how about the ones who "tried" warning you of his fuckboy tendencies?

Though Jungkook isn't the only one who's questioned often times. You're his polar opposite, you're not made for the lifestyle he leads on. As far as the public knows you're the daughter of a rich businessman who's family friends with the Jeons. You study in a prestigious university majoring in literature and working a internship in a journal company. They perceive you as a socialite and total snob due to your rich girl status, how wrong they were..

You finish applying a small layer of strawberry gloss on your pouty lips and head back out into the arena. You sit front row next to Yoongi who's watching Namjoon motivate Jungkook before the next round begins. They're both his mentors and you've come to see both men as friends and older brothers. "He's doing great so far, if he keeps this up he'll win right..?" You softly say to Yoongi.

"Yes, Kook's doing great with his speed and catching the poor bastard off guard but he needs to slow down or else he'll slip up and the other will get a upper hand on him. We don't need Kook to come back with fractured ribs again." Yoongi replies with a sigh, offering some peanuts to you.

"No thank you," you hum, "you know how he is, always eager and overzealous."

Yoongi grunts as he slouches in his seat, "Well he needs to cut that shit out before he gets his ass knocked out one of these days. If it ain't his opponent, it's gonna be me." He smirks lazily.

The match goes back into motion as the referee is yelling something to the crowd. Your heart is beating quickly, you pray to the gods above they send you your man back in one piece with no broken bones (his case fractured ribs). You've never liked this because the blood and the violent punches scare you. Especially because this is Jungkook you're talking about.

You watch with close eyes, Jungkook looks angry and it's both hot and scary at the same time. He's got sweat building up on his forehead, hair sticking to his skin, and jaw clenched as he throws punches left and right. So far Jungkook has been in the lead all night as he chooses to surprise his opponents. You're feeling a little bit of adrenaline running through your veins as you watch the match.

"C'mon, you got this..." You whisper softly and clench your fists.

The poor dude doesn't stand a chance anymore, he's losing his momento and his technique is getting sloppy. Jungkook must have tired him out already.. You find yourself smiling and yelling with joy as Jungkook manages to corner him. He's so, so close and your breath hitches in anticipation as the final punch is thrown and the dude goes falling to the ground. Everyone cheers for Jungkook, chanting his name as Namjoon crowds Jungkook after he's announced winner.

You eagerly make your way up to the stage, watching as Jungkook walks towards you simultaneously with dark eyes. He licks his lips chest heaving from the aftermath of the match, he seems like he's running on pure adrenaline now. Before you can even reach the ropes he hauls you up effortlessly, grabbing the back of your hair with one hand and roughly squeezing your ass through your dress with his other.

He kisses you with his all groaning softly while his hand kneads your ass massaging it in a more comforting manner rather than sexual. You bring your small hands to cup his face as you kiss back. Everyone's still celebrating and some close friends that came are catcalling you two. Jungkook tightens his hold as he pulls back, forehead against yours as he pants hotly against your mouth.

"I fuckin' did it baby," he mutters to you, "did it just for you."

You smile softly, "I'm proud of you," you mumble back and kiss his lips very gently, contrast to earlier, "I knew you could."

Jungkook chuckles breathily, "Let's get the fuck outta here yea? I wanna fuck the shit out of you in the locker rooms." He grins slapping your ass.

You want to chastise him but he does end up fucking you in the showers. Your little fur coat is messily thrown on a bench and a trail of clothes leading to the shower cubicles lay strewn around. It's a little steamy in there and Jungkook's got his strong arms pinning you up against the tiles as he works his thick cock in and out of you.

Your moans are soft and whiny, your toes clench and your thighs shake every so often from his cock stroking your g-spot from this angle. His wet body presses up against yours, his chest is firmly pressed to yours and your nipples rub against his wet skin every time he bounces you up and down his cock. "Mmm.. yeah," you softly moan, "right there, 's so good," you whine quietly.

Jungkook grunts quietly as he adjusts his grip on your bubbly ass, fat spilling from between his fingers as he hoists you upward and begins to drive his cock into you faster. "Right there baby? Want me to fuck you harder with my fat cock? C'mon baby, tell me you love it, love how full it makes you feel and hard it makes you cum.." He whispers in your ear.

You moan loudly at the dirty talk, back arching a little, "I-I love it..! Fills me up so good Kook, only you can make me cum like this!" You whimper towards the end, arms sliding down from his shoulders to simply being wrapped around his back.

"Damn right I am," he growls, "you're fucking mine, this pussy belongs to me and I don't wanna see anyone near it. Only I'm allowed to fuck you like this," he says as he pistons his hips faster, "say it. Say you belong to me, let them hear it baby,"

You squeal at the change of pace, arms coming up behind you to grip the top of the half-wall as he rocks you back and forth on his cock. It's too much and you can feel your pussy clamping down on him, "I'm yours! My pussy belongs to you," you cry, ".. Jungkook..! Jungkook!" You call out over and over as he fucks you like a man on death row.

Jungkook smirks softly, "Damn right," he kisses you while he plows away at your sensitive pussy. He thoroughly marks you as his and makes sure the whole damn hallway could hear you that night. He walks you down the hall later that night feeling refreshed as ever with his arm around your waist holding your ass as you stay cuddled up to him with a sweet adorable smile.

"Dame un poco love with some Hennessy, you know I like it when you're mad at me," - A.Chal

You're bubbling with annoyance as you storm around your shared apartment trying to find something to do, something that doesn't involve seeing his face. Jungkook was following occasionally, muttering curses and shaking his head at your "childish behavior". He's getting riled up too even though he has nothing to be angry about, he also has no right either since he started this whole mess.

The "mess" you're referring to occurred moments before arriving at home together. You were both hungry so you both said "hey, fuck it why not try that new barbecue place down the street?" and then you both went to the damned restaurant.

Everything's chill you're both enjoying the scenery around you, the waitress is very friendly and helpful and you both get your order and drinks quickly because the place isn't busy. Everything's going so well. You're happy, Jungkook's happy, everyone is so where did it all go to shit?

Jungkook is to blame (partly because he didn't look for the fight) but it was those preppy assholes from your university. They're sons of your parent's friends and you have met them before. Yet it did not give them the right to comment about your boyfriend or relationship.

They came over saying shit like "does your dad know who you're with?" or "why don't you ditch this lowlife and come get some drinks with us?" You're beyond angry and open your mouth to give them a piece of your mind but Jungkook beats you to it.

"Her dad perfectly fucking knows who she's with and where she's staying at, I don't recall ever asking for your fucking opinion on my girlfriend." Jungkook lowly mutters as he glares, "If I were you I'd fucking leave before I get my ass beat for acting a fool."

The one who started it laughs, "I dare you to put your hands on me, if you do—" he's cut off by Jungkook punching him right across the face.

"Say that again? I couldn't quite hear you?" Jungkook smirks as he yanks his head back, "C'mon, what were you gonna do?"

You scramble to get up, "Jungkook please," you softly beg, "let's just go okay? Ignore them they're not important."

Jungkook doesn't let up, only delivering another sucker punch to the gut. "Say it," he growls.

"L-Let go of me! My father will hear about this and when he does you're in so much shit! y/n get your—" he's cut off once again by Jungkook who's fucking livid.

You can see the crowd forming and the waitress from earlier on the phone speaking frantically. You feel angry, and worried because Jungkook was going to be in huge trouble if things weren't stopped now. You shakily breathed and looked around unsure of what to do.

It's about to turn into a full on fight because Jungkook pushes the asshole to his limits and now he's going to fight back. But you'd be damned if anyone put their hands on your man like that. You lift a bottle of soju and smash it against the dude's head as he's disoriented, "We are going home." You seethe to Jeongguk and toss the broken bottle top to the floor.

You're angry as hell right now and the press can kiss your ass, hell you work for the damn press you'll write the damn story yourself. You mutter to yourself and get into the car, arms crossed and face fixed to a cold stare.

“Baby,” Jungkook breathes out, entering the vehicle and sitting there looking at you in disbelief, “baby..?”

“Home.” You glare, and the rest of the ride is driven in silence and the occasional comment that dies out on Jungkook’s tongue halfway as he lets you mope around.

That’s how you’re in this predicament, pacing around at home angrily and huffing because the day is ruined. Not by Jungkook (maybe), but by those preppy assholes who think you’re friends or something. You didn’t even like them, you tolerated them. There was a difference between being cordial and rude.

“y/n.” Jungkook calls out, you ignore him and he calls out to you a total of two more times until he himself grows impatient and bothered. “Fucking hell y/n what do you want me to do?! Apologize? Say sorry for fucking defending myself against those daddy’s boys?!” He erupts in your face, hands holding your arms so tight you know you’ll bruise.

“You attacked him in a restaurant Jungkook! That wasn’t the fucking ring in there and you know it! Don’t you ever just leave boxing back in the ring? You always do this when things don’t go your way or the slightest inconvenience hits you and I’m sick of it! One of these days Jungkook they’ll arrest you and so help me I won’t be there to help you.” You glare, shaking him off as you pound your little fists on his chest.

Jungkook scoffs, “Oh that’s what we’re doing now? Taking their side? You fucking slut,” he shoves you hard making your back hit the wall as you stumble a little, “given the opportunity you’d jump at any chance to get on their cocks wouldn’t you? You’re a good for nothing—”

You cut him off with a slap, “Who the hell do you think you are? Accusing me of this stupid crap get over yourself Jungkook! You’re so far up your own ass you don’t even know what you’re saying to me.” You snap as you storm past him, heading right to your bedroom to pack a overnight bag.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going? I’m not done talking to you!” Jungkook yells as he follows you, “Oh classic y/n move, pack your shit and run from the problems yeah real classy move.” He sneers.

“Leave me alone,” you say as you shove random clothes into a bag, “I’m done talking with you, I’m not going to sit here and let you disrespect me or our relationship.”

Jungkook grabs the bag from your hands, “You aren’t going anywhere, you’re gonna unpack all this shit and we’re going to talk because isn’t that what you always want?! To talk?!”

You stare into Jungkook’s eyes as he crowds you, “Fuck. You.” You seethe angrily, you’re not one to cuss but when you do it’s because you’re absolutely losing it.

“What was that?” Jungkook suddenly growls, “Go on, repeat that shit to me.”

“I said: fuck you Jungkook. You’re a goddamn asshole and it’s a miracle I’ve stayed this fucking long with you!” You yell in his face as the both of you have a screaming match.

Things are thrown, picture frames shattered, and the room is in such disarray you’re not sure anyone can sleep in there. You take your anger out on him, letting all the pent up anger from before bubble up. This feels exhilarating but tiring at the same time, yelling took so much energy..

At one point he grabs you roughly, pressing you on the wall as he smothers you in a harsh kiss. The sexual tension had built and was at its’ boiling point. You found yourself kissing him back just as fierce and hungry. Your hands tangled in his hair and you harshly tugged on the soft strands.

“Fuck,” he moans against your mouth as he reaches down to unbuckle your jeans and push his hand inside your panties.

You arch into his touch, hands coming down to grip his forearm as you move your leg to wrap around his waist and pull him closer. A soft shaky sigh leaves your lips as his hand cups your soft pussy, his finger dipping between your folds to rub at your clit.

He presses on the bud and rubs back and forth as his head drops down to your neck. He leaves a series of hickeys on your skin as his free hand grips your hip tightly and holds you firmly against him. “You like that?” He murmurs hotly in your ear.

You pant and wiggle around in your place as your lower half is engulfed in pleasure. Your sensitive clit makes your hips jump in surprise every so often whenever he rubs in a particular way. The feeling is a little overwhelming but in a good way.

“Love it,” you whisper back and tangle a free hand in his hair as you grip it tightly, “but I want something else.”

“Tell me baby, what do you want?” Jungkook pulls back to stare down into your eyes as he slips his fingers past your tight slicked up hole as he fills you.

Your mouth falls open, eyes fluttering shut as you tighten your grip, “Mmm–you, want your cock in me,” you moan out, “want it to fill me up, make me cum over and over again..” You whisper seductively as you lick your lip.

Jungkook groans softly as he picks up the speed in your panties. He moves his fingers quicker, creating this squelching noise as your wetness dribbles down to his palm. His hand is cramping but the pain is worth it as he watches your face contort into pleasure. “Yeah..? What else baby? C’mon be a good girl and tell me.”

“Ohh..! Mm–want you to hold me down on the bed and make me take it. Don’t want it to stop until I’m crying and shaking, want you filling me up with your cum till it’s dripping–Jungkook,” you whine as you arch your back, “Call me your little slut, choke me, slap me, god just ruin me,” you whimper.

Jungkook moans at your words, he curls his fingers to hit your g-spot. The anger and sexual tension from before left you excited, you knew you wouldn’t be able to last long due to your overzealousness. You moan and cry out for him as your pussy is rapidly approaching its’ release. You clench on his fingers and shake as he sends you barreling into hot pleasure.

It’s utter bliss as you slump into his arms and sigh happily as you ride out your orgasm. He slows down and manages to hold you against him as he pants softly, “I’m sorry baby,” he breathes out.

You swallow thickly, staring up at him with a soft pout, “I’m sorry too..” You murmur and cradle his face, “You know I’d never mean those words right?” Not even you were sure if you meant those words..

Jungkook nods slowly as he presses his forehead to yours tenderly, “I didn’t meant shit either, you know how I get.. I promise I’ll try harder next time to not lose my temper in public.”

It’s a lie, he’ll be on his best behavior for a week max and then it’s back to normal. You’re used to this and you find yourself not caring as you hum in agreement, “Good.”

You love Jungkook. You’d do just about anything and he’d do the same. You’re a match made in heaven.

[ ☁️ ] : ps that lil collage, pics edited so don’t worry ;)

#bts smut #bts #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts jungkook #jungkook smut

3K notes · View notes

mangoisms · 10 months

Text

circle k (back to you)

summary: in which you're just the graveyard shift employee at circle k bombarded by vigilantes.

━ chapter five: i am found on the ground | read chapter four

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 4.5k

━ warnings: none

━ masterlist

━ a/n: if you'd like to see my notes (and my thoughts behind a certain inclusion of a character in this chapter), you can find them here <3 (also i'm on fire is playing in the last scene the formatting of the lyrics just killed me so i had to get rid of it thank you all)

“You just can’t beat it.”

“It was okay.”

You turn sharply to look at Tim, who shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips.

In the kitchen, Steph snorts. “Here we go.”

You ignore her. “Okay? Inception was okay—”

“Uncalled for—”

“But true. This?” You gesture to his flatscreen TV, where the end credits for Interstellar are playing; you’re a little bit red-eyed from the end scenes with Cooper and Murph but no less passionate. “This is more than okay. It’s—”

“Not technically scientifically accurate.”

You grab a pillow and gently whack him with it. He tries to hide a growing smile. You don’t understand what exactly he’s smiling at but you don’t care in this moment.

“It’s not about scientific accuracy, duck boy, it’s about love.”

“Yeah!” Steph yells from the kitchen. “Go love! Woo!”

You gesture in her direction. “He literally said it in the movie, Tim. How can you miss it? And Brand, too!”

“It wasn’t enough to save who she loved, though,” he points out—ever the devil’s advoactate, honestly…

“But it was there and she knew that, too, and she was okay with it. And it was enough for Cooper and Murph, too. I mean, literally to the point that she was able to save humanity. Right? Brand said it—love is the one thing we are capable of perceiving that transcends dimensions of time and space.”

Tim looks… well, far from upset or annoyed. He seems amused, almost… almost fond, the way he looks at you, but it’s too much for you to handle, so you look away, pouting a little.

“And also, okay, I know entering the black hole wasn’t ‘scientifically accurate’ but that’s the point, that some higher being switched them out so he didn’t die. You do have to admit, however, that the depiction of the black hole, which I’ll give Nolan props for, was great.”

“Okay, true,” he concedes. “The score was pretty good, too.”

“It was excellent.”

Steph steps out from the kitchen, looking at her phone. “Give me a sec, you guys, my mom’s calling me.”

You both give her an affirmative and she steps out the front door. You and Tim quickly resume your discussion.

“Inception’s score was good, too,” he points out.

“Bah. They both had Zimmer. Of course it’s going to be good. But Interstellar has the benefit of being enhanced by it because it’s already a good movie. I mean, it surprises even me that Nolan could manage to pull off something like this.”

“He has the range,” Tim protests.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, you Nolan stan. I’m still a bit hung-up on you saying it’s just ‘okay.’ I mean, sure, it could just be me projecting my own grief about my dead parents onto the story about a dad crossing space and time to get back to his daughter but still!”

That’s the understatement of the century. The scenes between Cooper and an old Murph never fail to make you tear up. Any of the scenes between them, really.

The prolonged silence from Tim tips you off and it’s only when you look at him do you realize your mistake.

His eyes are wide as he looks at you, surprised, with something else.

“Oh, it’s fine—”

“Your parents are—”

You both stop.

You clear your throat, waving a hand. “It’s fine. I… I mean, sorry if it made you uncomfortable, I joke about it sometimes.”

“No,” he says. “It’s okay. It just surprised me. I guess… I don’t want to—I mean—I’m, uh, sorry?”

You shift on the couch, turning more toward him. “It’s okay. It was… well, not that long ago, but—”

You stop, because your instinctive response is ‘I’m over it’ but that’s not totally true, is it? You don’t think you’ll ever be over it. One part of you still feels horribly robbed of them, and some days, their deaths feel so monumental you can barely get through the day, while others, you can function normally for the most part.

“No, I understand,” he says softly. “My parents, too. My mom when I was younger but my dad died when I was sixteen. It’s… not really something you get over, I think. No matter how much time passes.”

A quiet moment between you. It’s not like he’s tried to make you feel ostracized—if anything he’s gone out of his way to make you feel welcomed here, to make sure he and Steph don’t get too caught up on their own and they include you—but… This is a common thread between you and you know he knows and you know he knows you know.

“Yeah… Yeah, exactly.” You pause, glancing at the TV, where the credits are rolling now. “It happened when I was fifteen. The, um, earthquake.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again and you know he means it.

“I’m sorry about yours, too.”

Tim nods, the look on his face still soft, still gentle, then he glances back at the TV.

“I was kidding, you know,” he says next. “It, uh, really was good. Better than I thought it would be. Scientific inaccuracy aside…”

“It’s good,” you press, ignoring the last comment. “And I don’t think it was trying to fool anyone into scientific accuracy.”

“Also true. I just…”

“Wasn’t expecting it to hit that hard?” you guess, smiling. “Yeah, I get it. Cried like a baby when I first saw it. You’re stronger than me for getting through it dry-eyed.”

“Oh, I’m just waiting for later,” he says. “Saving my sorrows for my pillow. That kind of thing.”

You laugh loudly. He smiles.

“It does unearth all the dead parent trauma, though,” he says.

“Oh, tell me about it. Cooper wanting to try to go back home after they find out Dr. Brand never intended to help those on earth…”

“And then having to sacrifice himself to give Brand a chance,” he finishes, shaking his head. “Only for it to turn out well in the end. If only real life was like that.”

A shade too dark for right now but you can’t say you disagree.

The front door opens. Steph slips back inside, raising an eyebrow at you two. Though she hardly means what you think she means, you find yourself inching away from Tim, turning back forward slightly. You’d hate to give her the wrong impression.

And of course, that is not at all what she is thinking about.

“Why do you two look like someone just died?”

“Well, we were just talking about our dead parents, so,” Tim responds without missing a beat.

You burst out laughing. Steph groans.

“I was wrong. You two shouldn’t be friends.”

“It’s too late for that, I think,” Tim says, grinning.

You can’t help but grin, too.

She groans again.

Catwoman is your next vigilante visitor.

All skin-tight latex and a coquettish attitude that makes your face hot.

Luckily, she doesn’t appear to mind. She even pays for her stuff.

(“I was told,” she purrs. “And I don’t much like being told what to do but… you’re cute enough to convince me to go along with it.”

You don’t think the noise you made was human but it amused her enough.)

Alongside that, you have the others who regularly drop by. Your vigilantes, but then, as you pick up a few weekend afternoon shifts (much to Steph’s disapproval), some normal faces, too.

Barbara, a red-haired woman with sharp green eyes who has a stately and intimidating aura to her but is always pleasant when you two chat. Sometimes she has another woman with her, a pretty blond Barbara calls D. Then, that one man, the stocky blonde with the tortoise-shell glasses and a quiet but kind disposition, who eventually introduces himself as Jean-Paul.

You spot him during one of your weekend shifts, waiting his turn as you finish ringing up a harried-looking lady. Another man joins him, a little bit younger, you think, with dark hair and an odd white streak at the front; they’re both dressed in scrubs.

“It’s been a while, Jason.”

“You know how it is, JP. Work doesn’t stop. How’s Leslie?”

“Doing everything at once and somehow managing to pull it off. I’m sure she’d like to see you, if you could find the time.”

“Sure. I’ve got a couple days off from the hospital. I could drop in. Lend a hand.”

A soft chuckle. “If she doesn’t turn you around and tell you to go rest.”

“I’ll rest when I’m dead.”

He coughs. The other man snickers.

Just as the lady leaves, Jean-Paul says, “Let me pay.”

“I won’t say no.”

They both step up to the counter. Jean-Paul gives you a small smile in greeting and seems to decide to forgo your usual small talk—probably because of his new company, which you’re a bit grateful for. The other man—Jason?—nods, eyeing you curiously. Why, you have no idea. But that’s the only thing odd about it. You ring up the coffees without issue and soon, they’re stepping out, Jean-Paul giving you another small smile in goodbye. You return it.

Having regulars like that reminds you of the ones you had in Keystone City. Kind Mr. Garrick, who stopped by about once a month for lottery tickets, his wife typically in tow; they were always kind to you, always a little bit concerned over your wellbeing, whether you were getting enough sleep or eating well. Painfully reminiscent of grandparents you never had.

A little more frequently, there was Linda Park-West, a face you easily recognized from WKEY-TV for the Channel 4 News. She didn’t miss much, always so perceptive, but kind to you, sometimes testing your PR skills as a reporter. She usually stopped by for coffee before work but on occasion, she brought along her kids, Jai and Iris, to let them pick out something for themselves, too. Quite literal balls of energy, they were a handful but always good-intentioned.

You miss them all a lot. More than you thought you would. The Flash, too. Especially these days. What you’d give to talk to him about all this stuff…

But you’ve managed on your own since your parents died. You can keep doing it.

The following week, Tuesday night, you get another new vigilante visitor.

This one?

Robin.

He is, admittedly, a figure you are considerably more scared of. It’s a bit… silly on your part, too, because he is a kid, you think, a teen at least, but, well, teens can be scary. This one certainly is. If only because of his close proximity to the one who scares the most. The one who you are happy not to have visited you thus far and Robin’s appearance… well, you don’t entirely know if it’s a good thing.

But it might be foolish to assume that Batman doesn’t know this is happening.

But then thinking of him knowing you exist makes you horribly anxious, so, you shelve the thought for now and try to focus on the situation.

Which is…

The three dogs in tow collapse in front of the door, panting, tongues lolled out, appearing to enjoy the air-conditioned bliss of the inside of the store. Robin stares at you, his face a blank mask.

“Water?”

“At the back. Far left.”

He nods and turns.

You wait there, uncertain, glancing at the dogs. They look worse for wear, fur dirty and matted, old scars healed over; the sight tugs at your heart, so you step around from the counter, heading to the coffee machine. The store doesn’t carry bowls but the extra-large soda cups are wide enough to work for now.

Robin appears near you, several big bottles of water held in hand. He doesn’t say anything, just looks at you and the cups.

“Don’t have any bowls,” you admit. “So, I thought this might work.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Styrofoam. Wasteful. But it’ll do.”

“Yeah, Circle K isn’t breaking barriers in terms of eco-friendliness.”

He says nothing to that, just turns and heads for the dogs. You follow him, not that turned off. You’ve heard rumors about this particular Robin. He does a good job but can be… rough around the edges. Like Bat, like Robin, you guess.

Glancing at the cups, you get an idea, stopping to duck around the counter and grab a pair of scissors. You cup off the top half of each of them, Robin taking them as you go, until all three cups are cut, allowing for the dogs to have better reach.

You join him with the last one, filling it with cold water. Most of the dogs are so heat tired, they only lift their heads to drink, seemingly unable to stand.

You and Robin stay kneeled in front of them, filling the cups when necessary. You gently stroke the head of one nearest to you, smiling as his tail thumps against the tiles.

Robin says nothing else and neither do you. That’s how his time there goes, spent in silence, petting the dogs, letting them cool down and rest.

Eventually, he starts to leave, and you can’t help but ask, “What’s going to happen to them?”

He regards you for a moment and you get the unnerving feeling of being picked apart and analyzed. Still, you hold steady. It’s good practice, you try to tell yourself. One day, you’ll be faced with bloodhounds for journalists and you have to keep it together. Let yourself practice with Robin because if you can pull it off with him, you can do it with anyone.

“The shelters are closed for the night,” he eventually responds. “I will take them somewhere safe, off the streets. Then in the morning, they’ll go there.”

“That’s good. Thanks for doing that. It’s kind of you.”

He pauses, looking back at the dogs, who are rejuvenated by this point, stretching and standing up, tails wagging as they look at you two.

“It’s the right thing to do,” he says at last. “And… thank you, for your help.”

You glance away, picking up the cups. “Sure. No problem.”

A nod and Robin is soon corralling the dogs out of the store, murmuring more gently to them than you would expect, but from this experience, you suspect he has some kind of soft spot for animals. It’s endearing, in a way.

You hope you made a good impression on him, too.

(And if your good impression keeps Batman out a little longer, well, that’s just a lucky coincidence.)

The start of July creeps on you.

There is still achingly little contact between you and Tim. By this point, you haven’t seen him in person for more than a month.

You miss him, in the same way you miss a limb. Scrolling through your social media, whenever you find something funny or that he would like, your knee-jerk reaction is to send it to him. But your conversations on those respective platforms are made up of messages from you and none from him, so you have to stop yourself, because it wouldn’t be worth it. He wouldn’t see it.

Steph tries to preoccupy your time, though her behavior regarding Tim grows increasingly skittish, to the point where you almost think she might know.

She might know that you’re in love with him, him, her ex-boyfriend and first love. The thought brings on the usual amount of soul-crushing guilt and disgust with yourself. How can you do that to her? She’s your best friend. You love her to the ends of the universe and back and… How can you do that to her?

But… something else about it all niggles at you, too. She switches between reassuring you he’ll come around, and dismissing him the other times, saying you ‘don’t need him to have a good time.’ It makes you think they may be having their own issues, too.

The thought is sobering.

You’ve always thought of Steph and Tim as—as insane as it sounds—a pair of bonded kittens. Not exactly getting along all the time but…

You couldn’t separate them. You shouldn’t separate them.

And it feels so wrong for it to be just you two, sometimes. Like you’re missing another piece of the puzzle and it’s noticeable. This empty space between you two that he usually filled. Your group chat, at his insistence, is called the three musketeers. Well, you’re missing your third. Desperately.

“We can rebrand,” Steph says to you one day, the two of you at the mall’s food court. Tim said he was busy. Again.

“No,” you sigh. “That’s not… no. Anyway, Big Belly?”

“I—oh, you have got to be kidding me.” She sounds annoyed, voice sharp.

“What?” you ask, your eyes still on the menu in front of you.

She grabs your arm. “I think we should eat somewhere else.”

You frown at her. “But you said you wanted to get—”

“We can get Big Belly somewhere else. Maybe a little more quiet, you know, it’s kinda crazy in here,” she laughs, though it sounds strained as she tugs you over to the exit.

“Crazy? It’s not that busy—Stephanie!” You yelp as she drags you forward before you can take a look around. “What is going on—”

“It’s just—I think I see Jordanna—”

“Where—”

“Let’s not look! Don’t want her to see you or me, you know how she is, so, let’s get out of here…”

“Well, I—okay—you don’t have to—”

She tugs you all the way through the exit, out into the burning mid-afternoon heat. Humidity swallows you whole, turning your skin tacky, sun bearing down on you full-force. Outside, it smells sharply of gasoline and hot blacktop.

“Honestly, Steph,” you say, shaking your head. “You didn’t need to drag me out like that.”

She gives you an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I just… didn’t want to deal with Jordanna. She’s been really annoying me recently.”

“Has she?” You can’t imagine why Jordanna would even be talking to her since it’s the summer, but to be fair, there isn’t much Jordanna wouldn’t do in the name of annoying her.

“Yup. Just… acting way out of line. So, let’s go somewhere else.”

“Alright, that’s fine. Let’s get out of the heat before you have to scrape me off the pavement.”

“Food’s on me,” she promises, looping her fingers through the belt loops of your jeans, tugging you gently; too hot to hold hands or twine your arms together like usual.

Though the whole thing bothers you a little bit, you are too used to Steph and Tim’s sometimes strange ways. Leaving abruptly, missing scheduled hangouts, a penchant for tardiness. The occasional bruise or cut that they both wave away. The exhaustion that wears them down sometimes.

It’s odd.

But stranger things happen in Gotham, so, you heed their wishes for that stuff to be ignored.

Just like you let this one go, too.

Really. The things you do for them.

Oddities aside, as Tim remains virtually radio silent, you miss him more. Think about him more.

Dream about him more.

“Steph’s going to be late,” is what Tim says as soon as he steps inside your dorm.

You snort. “Of course she is. You’re both terrible at being punctual.”

“I… am less bad at it than she is.”

“Right,” you say, smirking, pointing to your clock. “You’re only twenty minutes late, compared to what her forty minutes to an hour will be.”

Tim grimaces as he shuffles off his shoes by the door, then steps in further. “She said she was showering.”

“So, we have even more time. That’s fine. I wanted to paint my nails.”

In the bathroom you share with your ‘roommate,’ the shower turns on. It’s really just the bathroom you two share. Your small dorm is entirely private. The perks of being a junior.

You go over to your dresser, where your collection of makeup and nail polish is. Above it, your window looks out to the grassy quad, the sky clear of clouds, unusually blue today without the typical smog; the sun shines in, dust motes dancing in the rays.

Tim comes over, too, but he goes for your phone instead, which is connected to your Bluetooth speaker, music playing lowly; he got that for you this past Christmas.

“Gonna play your old people music?”

“Bruce Springsteen is a treasure to this country and, to quote my dad, one of the few good things to ever come out of the state of New Jersey.”

You laugh. The song changes. The upbeat notes of Hungry Heart start. You’ve heard this one more than a couple times since meeting him. It’s not so bad.

You fiddle with the bottles of nail polishes. Tim sets your phone down and leans over, dropping his chin to your shoulder as he watches you, humming quietly under his breath.

The contact makes your heart skip a beat, tendrils of his cologne wrapping around you, the heat of his body palpable through your thin t-shirt. It’s a contradicting sensation, with the AC working hard to beat the May heat that’s settled in. Maybe too hard, as your fingers are a little bit cold. You warm up quickly with Tim so close to you, your heart thudding in your ears. You desperately hope he can’t feel the heat that expands in your face.

That’s a more recent development. One you hate looking too closely at, for fear of what it means.

(You do know what it means. You’re just still in denial. Because admitting it means you have feelings for your best friend’s ex-boyfriend. For your best friend.)

You keep fiddling, not sure which color to pick. Tim huffs softly, reaching past you, picking out a bottle of wine red nail polish.

“Fine. But you have to help,” you say, taking it from him, then grabbing another bottle for the top coat.

“Don’t I always?”

You just nudge him back, stepping away from the dresser and taking a seat on the floor. The floor is hard, polished concrete; not pleasant to sit on or walk on, so you’ve invested in several cushioned rugs to cover as much as you can.

Tim grabs a Zesti from your mini fridge, then joins you as you set to painting the nails of your left hand. This one is easier since you’re using your dominant hand and you manage to paint your nails without catching any of the skin around them.

The shower in your bathroom hums underneath the sound of the song as you finish your left hand. The first coat, anyway. Tim passes his Zesti to you, wipes a hand on his jeans to get rid of the condensation, then takes the bottle of nail polish.

You sip the soda, extending your right hand to him. He carefully balances the bottle on the rug and sets to painting your nails.

Like with most things he does, Tim dedicates himself to his task wholeheartedly, cornflower blue eyes trained on your hand, tongue poking out in concentration. The sight makes your heart skip a beat. Warmth unspools in your chest like cotton candy.

Sunlight pours in from the window above the dresser, bathing him in warm, golden rays; it makes the shade of his dark hair warmer, the blue of his t-shirt, too, softening the pale of his skin.

“So… how was that date?”

The question jars you. You avert your eyes.

Ah. The date you agreed to go on with a guy in your communications class in an attempt to… you don’t know. Distract yourself from Tim? Try to find someone else to latch onto? All… not so great reasons, you know, but needs must.

Not like it worked out, anyway…

“Terrible.”

He stiffens, pausing in his work to look at you, eyes narrowing, and you send him a small smile, privately pleased—though you shouldn’t be—at seeing him get all protective. You can take care of yourself and he knows that, too, but… one can appreciate having a cute guy be like that for you. Within reason, anyway.

“He didn’t do anything, Timmy, relax. He was just… well, seemed nice initially. But when we got to the restaurant, he was horrible to the waitress. I already wasn’t feeling it, but after that, no way. So.”

He glances away, thumb rubbing idly at the back of your hand from where he cradles it in his. “Sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay. It wasn’t a good idea.”

“To go with him or—” he clears his throat, turning back to his work “—dating in general?”

“I don’t know. He just wasn’t what I was looking for.”

“What are you looking for?”

You, you want to say, but don’t.

Frightening to realize, really, that the answer to that question is immediate, as sure as the day.

It’s Tim.

Always Tim.

But you’ve never felt this way for someone. This strongly, like you want so much, you could never be satisfied.

“I don’t know,” you say quietly, watching the brush of the handle glide over your nail in easy, practiced sweeps. “Does anyone?”

“I guess not,” he concedes softly. “But still. I hope you can find it.”

The song changes. Something calmer, with the strum of the guitar. Familiar croons of I'm On Fire.

I have found it, you want to say. It’s you. It’s this. Right here, right now.

But just because you found it doesn’t mean it’s yours.

“Do you?” you find yourself asking because apparently you’re feeling extra masochistic today. “Know what you’re looking for, I mean.”

Steph sometimes teases him. Tries to point out nice boys and girls he might like. You used to play along. You don’t so much these days.

He would always wave it off, anyway. Just shake his head and change the subject. He has dated before. Obviously. Someone as gorgeous as him… all of Gotham wants a piece of him. You do, too. Well. You want all of him. Which is another thing you are just now realizing. But anyway, since you’ve known him, he hasn’t dated anyone. He used to date a boy—Bernard? Steph said he was a character—from one of his old high schools but that didn’t work out. And now he still has the occasional date, but it never pans out. He says they just aren’t compatible.

Makes you curious.

You’d never match up to it, you know, but you want to know, anyway.

Tim looks up, his eyes slowly scanning your face. This close, with the sunlight, you can see the shadows his lashes cast on his cheeks, the flecks of silver in his eyes, like mercury, the odd scars, too, that he excuses behind clumsiness as a child. Everything inside you squeezes.

“I guess you can say that,” he eventually says, voice soft.

The words hurt, but distantly, like it’s all far away from you. You’re too caught up here, now, close enough to smell his cologne.

Tension thickens the air between you. It’s unfamiliar, unknown, but not unwelcome with how your stomach swoops like you missed a step, heart pounding in your ears.

Tim looks… contemplative. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the movement of him biting his lip, teeth sinking into plush pink, and the urge to soothe away the indents with your own lips is fearsome, monumental, like a hurricane.

His fingers tighten on your hand. You want to get swept away in this moment, no matter the consequences. It’s a dangerous kind of feeling you aren’t used to.

But the shower abruptly shuts off in the bathroom, plunging the room back into silence with the strum of the guitar and the croon of the song as it ends. The moment is broken.

Tim clears his throat and returns to his work.

Neither of you say anything.

Too much for you to want.

Too much you cannot have.

Too complicated.

reblogs are appreciated!

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weemssapphic · 11 months

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do you get deja vu when she’s with you?

Larissa Weems x reader

“The truth is that you’ve always gravitated towards Larissa - always turning towards her like a sunflower turning to face the sun, as though you need to bask in her light to survive (you are honestly starting to think you might).” Or A collection of scenes post-breakup with Larissa Weems, based loosely on the song ‘deja vu’ by Olivia Rodrigo.

EDIT 17.1.2024: ao3 user levisha created a playlist inspired by this fic and it is absolutely fire! really sets the mood :')

A/N: This is a breakup fic - read at your own risk, I guess (I won’t be offended if you skip this one, I usually steer clear of hurt/no comfort - both in the reading and writing sense - but I felt weirdly compelled to write this. Was on the fence about posting it but here it is I guess).

Words: ~2.3k

Content/warnings: hurt/no comfort, angst, no happy ending, breakups, mentions of alcohol, mean!Larissa

The sun bathes your face in a comforting warmth as you stroll along the pier. It’s the end of summer and there’s a cool breeze in the air as the days slowly turn shorter. You’ve visited this pier dozens of times this year, but today is the first day you’ve gone alone. The sounds of children playing and waves rolling rhythmically, the scent of salty sea air mixed with strawberry ice cream - all send waves of nostalgia crashing through your body.

You took Larissa here for the first time last summer. It was all she could talk about for weeks after, until you brought her here again. You pass by a bench, the bench where you sat back then, your head leaning on her shoulder, her hand on your thigh, alternating between talking about anything and everything, and watching the seagulls, wrapped in a comfortable silence. Your chest constricts but you walk on, passing by couples and families and groups of teenagers.

It’s been a month since you last saw her. A month of crying and screaming, a month of feeling like your heart has been torn out of your chest. Today is the first day in a month that you’ve successfully managed to make it to the afternoon without crying once.

As you look across the pier, your gaze settles on a woman. She’s standing alone, watching the water ebb and flow. You notice her because of the sundress she’s wearing, the funky print - it’s something you could see yourself wearing, and it makes you smile.

It appears that someone has called out to her - she turns her head and you can see from the side that her face lights up as she reaches out her hand, into which a cup of ice cream is deposited. The woman beams, but your own smile melts right off your face as you drink in the form of the tall blonde that has sidled up next to the young woman.

You already know that Larissa has found someone new - it isn’t exactly a secret, she’d told you so herself when she’d ended your relationship. Her heart had been captured by another. They’d met during a work conference. They’d hit it off. It wasn’t personal, she’d told you with doe-eyes and a sad smile as she cracked your heart in two. You just weren’t enough, that much you could infer. And that was that. A part of you knew from the start that this was exactly how Larissa would leave - she found someone more exciting, the next second she was gone.

You wonder what Larissa had said to her new girlfriend before leaving the house this morning. “I have the perfect spot for a date,” perhaps. “There’s a lovely spot by the ocean I’ve been meaning to show you,” maybe. Either way, you’re certain she left out the part about coming here with you.

That was our place, I found it first.

It hurts to look, and you know you should look away, but you can’t. Not when the woman slides closer to Larissa, when Larissa’s arm winds its way around her waist, when she presses a kiss to the top of the woman’s head, when they begin to share the ice cream - one spoon for two, just as you’d always insisted.

You don’t know how long you’ve been standing there, but a gust of wind makes you shiver and you know the two women have felt it too, because Larissa rubs a hand over her bare arm and the woman shrugs off the cardigan she’s wearing to drape it over the taller woman’s shoulders. It looks tiny on her, and both women begin to laugh, and you feel you may be sick because you recall offering Larissa your own jacket on a day not unlike this and it feels so reused to you - you wonder if the thought crosses Larissa’s mind, too.

When you trudge home shortly after, you can’t help the tears that begin to stream down your cheeks, staining the front of your shirt. So perhaps today isn’t the first day you haven’t cried in a month.

~~~

You don’t want to, you don’t try to, but somehow you manage to run into Larissa and her new girlfriend everywhere.

It’s a few weeks later and you’re standing in line at the Weathervane. The barista hands you your coffee and you turn to make your way back to your usual corner booth.

Except, it’s already occupied. The woman sitting there facing you looks vaguely familiar, but what’s even more familiar - so achingly familiar - is the back of a blonde head, soft curls pinned into elaborate loops.

Your stomach churns as your eyes fall to the table, to the two mugs of hot chocolate, each covered with a generous heap of whipped cream. You step closer in spite of yourself, drawn like a moth to a flame - you know you will be scorched, burned alive, but you cannot help the trance you find yourself in as soon as Larissa is involved.

“Go on, try it,” comes a smooth, velvety voice - you’d almost forgotten her voice (almost made yourself forget), but now it comes flooding back to you and hits you straight in the gut. The lilting accent, dripping like honey from painted (always painted) lips - you can picture the way they curl up into a little smile, baring pearly white teeth as Larissa waits for the woman across from her to lift the mug to her own lips and take a sip.

The smile that lights up her face is bright, innocent. “It’s really good!” she says enthusiastically, and then Larissa reaches across the table to swipe her thumb over the little dollop of whipped cream that coats the woman’s upper lip. She giggles - they both giggle - and you feel tears prick your eyes as the ghost of Larissa’s thumb passes over your own lip.

She thinks it’s special.

She thinks she’s special.

You look away. You take a step back towards the counter. “Actually, can I have this to go?” The barista gives you a funny look but takes the mug from you, pouring your drink into a to-go cup and pressing the lid firmly in place. You leave. You cannot stand it anymore, and you leave. Before the woman catches you staring at her, before Larissa turns and pins you in place with what would surely be a look of pity or disgust - or worse, apathy.

~~~

New Year’s Eve. A party at a local bar. A party that everyone goes to. A party that you managed to drag Larissa to the previous year. You aren’t sure you even want to go - you are sure that the memory of Larissa will be everywhere, the memory of the New Year’s kiss, of singing together, of whispered resolutions to fall even more in love and travel the world together.

But you need to get out, you cannot sit at home drowning in memories. Not after months have passed since the breakup - you should be moving on. And they’re only memories. You should be safe, you think - Larissa never was one for crowded parties, she would’ve rather spent her New Year’s Eve on the balcony of her apartment with a glass of wine in hand. “Please, Larissa,” you would beg. “I wouldn’t go for anyone else,” she would purr.

So you go. And for a few blissful minutes, it is pleasant, and the music invigorates you and the alcohol numbs you and maybe, just maybe, you can forget about Larissa Weems for a few hours.

But as you stand in the dimly lit bar, clutching a bottle of beer to your chest, you spot her. More specifically, you spot her first, all bouncy and giddy and wrapped in a sparkly dress that catches the light and throws specks of silver across the floor in front you. You think - it’s possible - she could be alone, but then Larissa is standing there, tall and regal and grinning from ear to ear. Her eyes sparkle in amusement as she looks down at her girlfriend and it’s as though time has slowed to a complete stop. Her hand settles on the woman’s lower back and you find yourself shivering in response, recalling how it felt the first time it was your back that her fingers pressed into.

“Uptown Girl" by Billy Joel starts to play. You cannot escape this damned deja vu that sneaks up on you every time you see Larissa with her girlfriend. All of your senses are invaded by the feeling of standing in this very same bar with Larissa, drunk and singing along, giddy at the prospect of another year together, another year of falling even more madly in love.

You wonder, as you watch the woman turn her head up to meet Larissa’s gaze, as you watch her mouth form the words to the song, as you watch Larissa sing back to her, leaning in until they are practically shouting the lyrics into each other’s faces, grinning giddily - does Larissa feel it too? The deja vu? Does Larissa have a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach just like you do? Does the memory cross her mind of you yelling “it’s our song” whenever “Uptown Girl” began to play? Does she think about how you teased her for getting the lyrics wrong? Does she still get those lyrics wrong? Maybe her new girlfriend teases her about that, too. Maybe Larissa whispers “I love you” to this woman after the chorus, too, just like she always did with you.

You try to spend the evening as far from Larissa as possible, try not to look for her in the crowd as you might have once done. Your efforts are futile. The truth is that you’ve always gravitated towards Larissa - always turning towards her like a sunflower turning to face the sun, as though you need to bask in her light to survive (you are honestly starting to think you might).

She never turns to face you, though. Not once. You aren’t sure if she doesn’t know you’re there or if she is actively ignoring you - you aren’t sure which would be worse. That she can walk directly past you without registering your presence, even though you could pick her out of a crowd of hundreds in an instant, irrespective of her height? Or that she cannot even bear to look at the person she once swore she’d spend forever with?

Your throat is dry and you aren’t nearly drunk enough to get through the evening - but Larissa is sitting at that damned bar once again, elbows on the counter and chin resting in her hands as she listens intently to something her girlfriend is saying to her - she used to hang onto your every word like that, like she was held captive by your voice. It used to make you feel like the most special person in the world, that Larissa Weems would choose you, that she would value what you have to say.

Larissa speaks - it’s too loud in the bar to hear their conversation, but she must have said something funny because her girlfriend throws her head back with laughter, and Larissa simply watches her with sparkling eyes and parted lips that curve up into an adoring smile. You cannot help but wonder if you’ve heard the joke she’s told before - if it’s one of the jokes you’ve taught her, that she loves to retell. You cannot help the bitter taste this leaves in your mouth.

No more drinks for you then - not when Larissa is at the bar and you’d have to brush against her to get the bartender’s attention. It’s nearing midnight anyway, and most people are starting to turn towards the TVs hanging in the corners of the bar - a news program covering the Ball Drop in Times Square plays.

The countdown begins:

“10, 9, 8…”

The entire room chants as the countdown on the TVs continues.

“…2, 1 - HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

Confetti begins to fall around you. It catches in your hair, blurs your vision with kaleidoscope colors. Music and screaming and laughter fill your ears, deafening you. But all you can do is watch as Larissa kisses her girlfriend - right at midnight. They kiss and kiss and just as you feel you’re about to be sick, Larissa pulls back. And then she smiles, she smiles like she used to smile at you, and reaches up to gingerly pluck a piece of neon pink confetti out of her girlfriend’s hair, and her girlfriend’s shoulders shake with laughter as her hands slide down from Larissa’s neck to her waist to tug her closer - even closer.

Then Larissa, beautiful, sweet, merciless Larissa, begins to laugh as well, and as she does so she turns her head and her eyes (half-lidded as her face scrunches up with unadulterated joy) pierce your own. And it is the worst feeling you have ever felt, and a knot begins to form in your throat, because her gleeful expression does not change. Not into one of guilt, not into one of pity - not even into one of recognition. It is as if you are two strangers, accidentally and fleetingly making eye contact in a bar.

Tears prick at your vision and for a moment, Larissa is blurred. You blink the tears away and when you can see clearly again, her attention is back on her girlfriend. She’ll never feel sorry for the way you hurt, you realize.

A new year. A fresh start - for everyone but you. You will always be stuck in a bar with Larissa Weems on New Year’s Eve, with nothing but your memories and an overwhelming sense of deja vu.

Taglist: @oceansblooming @alexusonfire @brienneswife @rosieathena @pro-weems-places @bigolgay @kimiinou @imprincipalweemspet @h-doodles

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #larissa x reader #hdgkjhfkdfhkdfhk this is wildly out of my comfort zone sorry if this is like not good lmao #also sorry for it not being happy lol #but thank you for reading if you did <333 #Spotify

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tearskillstardust · 6 months

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🎐 WINTER FLOWERS AND AUTUMN LEAVES; k. kazuha

— summary; kazuha has very little in his life to hold on to, and when love leaves his grasp, he doesn't know what to do anymore. [povs switch frequently] modern au!

— !! tw: themes of— death, suicide, depression, implied sex, co-dependency, toxic relationship. !! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. — female reader. angst and emotional content. long read under the cut.

It was midnight.

When I was born, that is.

Of course I couldn't remember it, and I bet mother lied that she could just so she didn't look like an entirely awful parent. She recited the fact it was the most beautiful day of her life because she overheard women in crowded markets say that to their little five-year-old sons, but little five-year-old me still thought I was special. Apparently, I was a handful, and nothing had changed since.

I soon realized she mixed this beautiful day up with the day my father left her, which was only a week before. They'd argued: bottles smashed, tremors, pleading, front door slammed. She shut doors with special caution for eighteen years after that, nudging them slowly as they creaked one, two, three times into the doorframe whilst gently twisting the doorknob into place as if she were waiting for someone to knock again, letting them know she'd kept the door open for so long but would still let them slip through.

I never found out what they argued about. Me, probably. The smartest thing mother ever did was never tell me.

When I was six, seven, eight, nine, and ten, I'd gotten used to taking care of my mother, tipping water down her throat, carefully, both hands, the way I should've been practising on a doll. I used to go out and spend hours in parks with kids who didn't care about me just to come home to find her scattered on the living room floor. I didn't understand. Was I meant to? Mummy, why are you sleeping on the floor? Why were you sick? It smells of vomit in here, wake up—

I didn't go out very much after that.

But school and friends peeled me away from it. It was both terrifying and refreshing. The only thing was that nobody's parents were like mine—theirs were together. Proud. But I couldn't tell if they were happy. A slice of me well-kept in the ragged pocket in my chest hoped they weren't. It was selfish of me and I knew it but each time I watched someone's parents give their child a gentle smile or pat on the back, I felt like crying my ribs sore.

'Someday, Kazuha, someday,' you often rubbed my back soothingly when it happened.

Someday, I would echo silently, and like someone descending into anesthesia, I began to count backwards.

4 months ago.

'Why do you like winters?', Kazuha had questioned you once, a few months ago, playing around with a leaf in his hand. You couldn't help but look up from your book, only to find him resting against the tree, pondering something deeply.

You stared at him for a bit, at his serene beauty that seemed to be enhanced by the sun's dying rays as they shone over him, before going right back to your book. You shrugged, 'No deep reasons, I just like daffodils I guess.'

'And why do you like daffodils?'

You huffed, irritated but affectionate in the gesture, nonetheless. It was a certain difficulty about Kazuha that made him all the more endearing— but his own habit of over-romanticizing everything never quite appealed to you, nor could you understand where it came from.

For someone who had constantly been pressurized to be the best, you had no time for poetry and art— and he was born a poet. You were thankful for his existence and his acceptance for you, but the poet inside of him could never really be accepted entirely.

You looked up finally once you were done with your page. 'Why does it matter, Kazuha?', you said, never looking directly at him as you picked a lone flower on the ground. He stared on, curious.

'Everything withers when winter passes and returns with spring. Beauty blooms in summer and dies in Autumn. Your or my own preferences don't matter, nature remains undeterred.'

'Isn't their comfort in romanticizing life, though? Finding love and loss in our twilight existence.'

'So you just want to feel loved by giving adjective to natural things?'

He laughed at the simplification. 'No, but to be more direct, since you would like that, I merely like having natural memoirs to associate people and places with, so I tag them with adjectives. Much easier for a wanderer to keep, isn't it?'

You sighed quietly before smiling softly at him. 'You're at it again? Not everyone leaves, Kazuha. Some people come in our lives to stay,'

He smiled at your words, though the smile never quite reached his eyes.

3 weeks ago.

I had always loved stargazing. There was something about staring at the stars that shape our unfortunately funny lives and still deeming them worthy of our praise. Making them the base of our adoration.

I had invited Kazuha here, and though we had talked a lot initially, which ultimately led to kissing and to confession and to this— his head on my lap as I rested against the slide of the children's park, watching with him as the night zoomed by, suddenly every possibility of the future crossed my mind and I couldn't help the curious cat inside of me.

'Why would you want to be with me?', I asked, staring down at him.

Don't get it wrong— he is the love of my life. The most beautiful person I have ever known, ephemeral inside out. Perhaps that's the problem. He is like a songbird, and I am a hunter. Horses don't befriend the grass, but I fall deeper in love nonetheless.

Sometimes I scare myself— Will I ever be able to save myself from the depths I am venturing to? Will he reach his hand out? Will I be able to see him from the depths? Will it be too—

'I love you, that's why.'

What a lie.

'Huh?' I hadn't meant to say it out loud, but it would be for the best of both of us.

'You wouldn't think of suicide and then not think of me if you really did, Kazuha.'

He had nothing to say, he quietly stared on. More startled with the knowledge of my awareness than looking for an answer.

But I could not blame him, I had nothing to say either.

I pressed my lips against his in that moment, not realizing I had been crying until he wiped the tears with his thumb. He kissed with a passion, pouring himself out, as though saying all the words through this kiss then he would ever have time to before he left. He always kissed deeply— but right now he did it as though he was desperate to tell me his tale of love.

But I had stopped believing him after a point, and my own support remained these small physical exchanges that we would have; away from the world, under the stars, hoping they would have some pity on us. On me.

'Do you really love me, Kazuha?', I asked when he pulled away, our breaths mingling in an intimate dance of fire and ice. His touch lingered a bit too long on my exposed neck, and I knew part of what was coming.

He remained quiet when I wanted him to answer, before pushing me down on the grass, continuing the kiss. I was the songbird perhaps.

Curiosity killed the cat.

1 day ago.

She wasn't the same after that.

After we slept together, that is.

I had not wanted to hurt her, but only yesterday as I thought over everything once again, I realized how selfish I was. How filthy. Her purity had always been a source of utmost awe for me, as I stared at her skin, free of sin. But it had been foolishness on my side— I should've known my hands would burn against her skin. I should've steered away, but then she stepped in the lion's den like a willing sacrifice.

My mother had said it to me once— it's easier to solve conflicts between lovers if you sleep with them, albeit half drunk.

She was wrong about it.

She was so wrong about many things.

But like a desperate man drowning in dark waters, I clawed at whatever I could take and she, the love of my life, gave me whatever she could before the waters reached waist-deep and I pushed her away.

When we shared a bed, she was the last to sleep. I wasn't a mind reader but I was nearly certain I knew her every reason for muffling her wails in her blanket. I wanted to get up and say something. But when I went to Germany, Greece, then Italy, I needed her to feel nothing but relief. The euphuism had been funny, but she saw right through it.

The moon tutted at me, the sun nearly ready to rise over her, trees leaning over in private chatter, whistling together, chiming their little criticisms as the sinners—suicide and homicide—stared at each other.

I had always dreamed of how today would be ever since I had made up my mind. Dying was never easy, no matter how badly you desired peace. Instincts could never be stopped. Drowning, cutting, burning, suffocating— I tried everything in the same order, then backwards, then all at once. But even my self-loathing was not strong enough to betray my instincts.

She found me once— laying in a pool of my own blood. I had never seen her crying before, she'd been desperate, desperate to do anything, to scream, to cry, to shout but the night was a trap on us that doused her voice and she was left with all but one person to rely on— herself, as she carried me to the hospital.

If the Hindus were right, I was worthy of being a Hemlock in my next life. Cursed to eternal damnation by the gods— a life devoid of love, adoration or beauty. Only the winter for company and solace.

Such thoughts did not scare me.

She did not cry tonight, only packed her bags and left.

7 hours ago.

I folded over into her like a secret billet-doux. I was unbelievably small next to her, my words just as frail as I was. She wanted us to break up. I knew she did, I just wanted to be happy in my last breaths by playing a game of pretense.

'Can you hold me until I'm completely gone?'

Her brows furrowed, eyes devoid of their usual kindness. 'Kazuha.'

She said my name without anything attached to it, like those three syllables meant everything between ardour and despair.

'I know you hate me,' I reassured her, 'I only want to pretend I'm not alone for a moment.'

I began to cry. Am I that insignificant, God? Am I easy to kill?

But to my surprise, she let my head grate against her chest, soft fingers knotting through her jumper, crying, screaming, let it all out, I want to see you hurting darling, let everything go while I take it from you, our final reconciliation, my love.

But then she let go of me and death held me, tightly, like she was suffocating me, like this was the first and last time she'd ever hold anyone, like murder was primal and she wouldn't shy away from its beckoning voice, like a siren, a mother, a ghost, with the blade to my neck, her final judgement on her tongue—

Let go of me, my love, for this is where I die.

Now.

Autumn. His favourite.

I always had one complaint with Kazuha— he was bad with goodbyes. For someone so poetic, it was a bit ironic even, but I hated how he simply left, walked away as though that was all there was to it. He never turned and smiled, waving back gently with a promise of return, however fake might it be.

Anybody would say he looked peaceful. He's poetry in a face. His lids unfold over his eyes like broken shutters, and it looks like a sigh has prised his mouth open. If you stare hard enough, it looks like he's breathing.

He didn't die like that. Death had to pull the shutters down. She had to draw his mouth shut, but the wind seized it again. She had to scrub the tears and saliva from her skin. Otherwise, it looked like a struggle. It wasn't. He'd given in and told me not to interfere.

As I stared at his coffin, his resting place, I couldn't help but feel repulsed at the muddy brown. It takes place in a church, like most things do. According to Kazuha, his mother is God-fearing, although I don't think he meant it in the conventional sense. Rose just dreads what God will do to her for all her sins, not that she ever made an attempt to repent. The woman is a filthy hypocrite like all cowards are. In turn, her son was taken from her.

Quel dommage.

Surprisingly, I didn't find tears to cry. I came for the same reason as everybody else—curiosity, guilt; not love though. Very few attended because everyone liked Kazuha. It was like he was a discarded newsprint, not a person.

I had cried all I could, wanted to, weeks ago. I knew what was coming— so did he. Neither of us cried when we accepted our fates because we had read it under the stars we made love under for so long. There wasn't guilt in him as he sinned, which made him so corrupt— and there wasn't regret in me as I turned away, which made me, oh, so pure.

I felt violated.

I don't mention it when I visit his grave, though. I hadn't come to hate him, he was wrong about that I'm afraid. I had come to see him for who he was— pure as a fire but feeding on impure things, and I prayed for hours, hands folded, knees scraping against cold, harsh marble as I cried, as I waited, only for the smallest of whispers to infiltrate my mind—

God is dead.

Should I have followed?

there we go! idk if this is exactly what anon was expecting but when i was writing fluff, i suddenly wanted to add angst and it turned into this. thank you very much for your request though! as a treat, i'll also publish some cute kazuha stuff later lmao.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #kazuha kaedehara #kazuha #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha x reader #kazuha smut #genshin angst #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #minors dni #anon <3

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crimson0lake · 4 months

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BSD characters as parents!! Pt3

Pt1 - Pt2 - Pt3 - Pt4 - Pt5 - Pt6 - Pt7 - Pt8

Masterlist

A.n: I didn't expect people to like these this much, but I guess we all need happiness after s5-. If I have to be honest, this made me cry literally.. images from BSD manga! Images from BSD manga

New A.n: it's updated now alongside with pt1 and pt2!

Characters: Odasaku and Ranpo

Warnings: mentioned character death, physical relationship mention, slight angst at Odasaku's part, if you are uncomfortable by these mentioned warnings DNI

Odasaku man:

As he is in Mafia there's a chance he might have a child from one of missions (that chance is there with ever Mafia member as you know mafia members reached to use their body to get what they wanted or needed: examples Dazai and Kyouka) but if it not, he is a marriage guy. He would want a child after marriage or he adopted the child.

If it's from an mission child he would still love the child, he might leave the child with the mother cause he dont want them to know his Mafia work, but if the mother dont want or abusive, he is taking the child. He would find a way to feed the child, milk donor? He would find one. Baby milk for newborns? He would research about how to use them.

he might act different to child due to gender, if it's a boy, he would teach them how to protect themselves and how to use a gun after a certain age. If it's a girl, still he would teach her self defense but he would try to keep all the gun and other things, he might be a little gentler with a girl child. Still a caring, loving and protective dad.

He would be the calm father yet he would rise them to be in good side no matter what. You saw how he wanted Dazai to get in the good side, he wants best for his child. He would low-key disappointed and afraid if his child end up in Mafia, he would feel like he failed them.

The orphans he take care were happy and over joyed, they were probably the first play friends of the child. Their first friends as well.

Dazai is the brother. No other way, he is the annoying brother who would mess with the child's hair which they spent hours with styling. Also he has a protective side of him for the child, if a person he didn't trust or know has bad intentions try to get near the child-.. well we all know what they say in Port Mafia about Dazai and his enemies-

He would also try to hold Mafia things away from the child by Odasaku's warnings he is the first one who Odasaku told about his child probably. He was happy for Odasaku, also kinda scared if he would get abandoned inside-

Ango is rather calm about it, still a caring uncle but serious most of the time. He is the boring yet cool uncle. I can see he would tell the child about trio's stories. He also most likely prevent port Mafia learning about Odasaku's child in secret

Odasaku probably wouldn't even go after the man who ended up k!lling him if he had a child. I feel like he and Dazai would make a plan to run.

But if that organisation found out about his child.. There's two possibilities there.

1- they take the child alongside with other orphans Odasaku take care or 2- they couldn't reach for the child/they didn't know about them.

If Odasaku make a run and left with Dazai: tbh they would have a great life. Both would join ADA and the child still got Ango's protection from afar

But if that organisation know about them/ reach and take them:

Odasaku wouldn't care, he would be more furious than the orphans died. He never felt this much grief and despair once and now the worst thing scenario is happened for him. His child was his everything, and now gone? Oh boy. And we know how it ends up...

after Odasaku's death:

Ango made sure that the child was safe and Port Mafia didn't find about them. He didn't find strength to visit the child after his betrayal. He probably sent the guardians of the child money every month or week for them to use for the child or hide for their future

Dazai probably wanted to take care of the child on his own for Odasaku but A go probably already sent child away to much safer place. He knew that was a better chance for the child but it still hurted that he won't be there for his best friend's child. Who Odasaku cared so much

Dazai also make sure hide and protect the child from afar. He also couldn't find the courage to visit the child, he didn't want to risk them nor was ready to face them..

In another universe Odasaku was sure they are still together and he would protect them with his life (even if he failed in that one,l if that organisation take the child) but not this one maybe.. Yet he knows one thing clear, he loves and protects his child in every universe with all his being.

He wants his child to be on the good side as well. He is scared to lose them. So he would be totally shocked and angry at his child if they decide to get on the bad side. He did everything to make them a good person. So he knew it was just his child's greed or bad side he never knew.

Even though he knew he couldn't help but feel sad and guilt deep in his heart, maybe he didn't do everything he could have done?..

If his child gets on the good side: he would have a soft smile. A proud and happy smile to watch his child fly out of the nest with a bright and wide smile. He is proud to raise them to be good...

He would have felt that father's sadness when his child seemingly was ready to fly away from the nest... He didn't want them to go but he knew it was best for them to go.. he would look at their photo of two of them together as his eyes tear up while his lips curl upwards..

Overall a caring and calm father, who wants the best for his child.. even if he had to risk his life to give them a better life..

Best detective in the world aka Ranpo:

Marriage? Probably but there's a slight chance he might have a child from outside of the marriage. If the time needed that, as we saw in his backstory he even risk his life to solve the case (I didn't watch that season, correct me if I'm wrong please) so he even might have a physical relationship if there's no other way he can see.

If it's from marriage, he is happy. Yet he knew his partner wanted a child from the start.

If he finds a child on his doorstep or abandoned: He took them to the nearest child shelter/orphanage and left them there. If the shelter/orphanage wasn't good and he sees the evilness in the employees, he won't hesitate to take the child to another orphanage but he would end up adopting them himself due his inner child getting more and more concerned about the child. He couldn't help but feel like he abandoned the child like how alone he was in his childhood without his parents.

If it was from an a mission thing, at first he wouldn't want the child, he don't wanted to take care of a child while he didn't even know what a child would do. If the mother is good, then his inner child and traumas won't bother him much about it but if she wasnt.. his inner child slowly eat him from inside saying the child would feel like him if he abandoned them.

He would end up taking the child if the mother was bad, he would even buy or find a milk donor for his child. Or ask pregnant or newly give birth mothers about which milk type he should use.

It doesn't matter the gender for him. He still give the child the childhood he never got while being kids with his child. He is their first friend and play friend. Their closest friend as well.

Fukuzawa is the grandpa- he would be the first one who would babysit the child. They would pet cats and he would teach the child traditional things like how to wear a yukata, how to sit down properly, etc

Yosano is the protective aunt. She also lacks of a proper childhood probably, so she also doing her best to give Ranpo's kid the best childhood. She is the second friend and play friend of the child. If Fukuzawa's busy or if agency having a case, she is the one that babysits the child. Fun fact: She would teach them how to scare off people-

Poe would have a uncle/brother like relationship with the child, he was nervous and anxious at first and hold Karl away from the child for a while till he get more comfortable. He is the third person who Ranpo would leave his child with. I mean they have a rivalry like relationship but Poe isn't insane or maniac to harm an innocent child between their rivalry

Karl maybe the closest friend of the child if they love animals, if they have allergies, Poe always cleans his clothes and need to hold Karl away for a while. But if not Karl is their plushie -Ranpo need to remind them to be careful and Karl isnt a plushie.

The child can't help but sometimes fall asleep while hugging Karl, either way, Karl doesn't bite them! So that's good.

Ranpo is also a child like himself, so his child would have one of the best childhoods. But he also have a deep fear of leaving his child or something happening his child. He is scared that he might leave his child like how his parents did, he don't want them to be in his shoes..

He always protects them afar, if he is not there, that means he at least have one person he trust near them. It's either Yosano or Fukuzawa

He is overlay having two sides, one who he is while in Agency: knowing everything and in control. While he is rather looks like he lets things slide themself with his child which he would have a fight in his mind that something might happen or he needs to be all guard

It tooks a while till Fukuzawa realises it and confronts him about it or he go to Fukuzawa cause of it. Either way Fukuzawa would say he is proud of him of taking care of his kid and he is a good father.

He nearly cried when he heard the words Fukuzawa spoken to him.

He would want his child to stay on the good side. He knows his child's every expression and what they mean. Yet it would still hurt him if his child decided to get on the bad side.

He can see his child clearly, so he would be disappointed and angry at them if his child was pure evil, go to the bad side by their own will but if his child was forced or manipulated? He is mad. He is mad mad at the person who manipulated/forced his child away from him.

He won't stop till his child is back to the good side, next to him. He would do everything to save them from that spider wep.

If they follow his path, he is happy; the happiest father in world. He knew they would follow his path but actually seeing them follow his steps? He has tears in his eyes. He is very happy to have his child on the good side.

He would visit his child randomly, give them candies and small deserts from time to time before giving head pats. It doesn't matter what age his child's in, he is giving them head pats.

Overall, he is a father who is always five steps ahead of his child but also leads them to a much better path. He cares for them, and would do anything for his child's safety..

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davinashifts333 · 1 year

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BLUE EYED WONDER PT. 3 (Isaac x Witch! SO):

⚫️summary; After Isaac is arrested under false murder accusations, Scott figures out he’s a werewolf, Lydia invites Y/N to the “hangout” with the boys and Allison, everything starts going wrong. On the day of March 9th, Y/N takes advantage of her and Isaac’s bond and trues to convince him Lydia is not the Kanima.

⚠️warnings; mentions of unaliving someone, swearing, implied smut, dirty behavior/talk, beacon hills shit because yes all of it is a huge warning, 18+ ONLY!! k thx bye!!

•

March 9th, 2011. I walked into Beacon Hills High with Scott on my trail followed by Stiles. "So you knew about Isaac.. And you.. you're a witch!? And why didn't you think that information needed to be shared, young lady?" Stiles begins the interrogation.

"Yeah, you easily could've said something the night we went over but instead you went and played footsie with him.. IN BED Y/N!" Scott's voice growing louder by the word. I abruptly stop at the last sentence and turn around, irises bright red causing them to stumble back. They quickly look around in hopes no one saw them afraid of their 5'3 best friend.

"I didn't say anything because I thought it was clear. i used to always do magic tricks for you guys and you never seemed to mind especially when Scott began a werewolf, I thought maybe they're used to the supernatural world, seeing as THEY'RE A PART OF IT! And with Isaac? He's literally Derek's only friend like, ever. So it wasn't a far stretch that he'd be a werewolf okay? Now keep my business down." I turn back around making my way to my locker to grab my notes for chemistry.

"Wait, so those magic tricks were real when we were kids? Awesome.." Stiles blurts out earning an eye roll from both Scott and I. I huff into my locker and begin to feel the same thing I always felt when Isaac was close by, a sense of calm growing in my chest. I look around and Scott takes notice.

"What is it? Why is your heart racing?" I hadn't noticed that it did that but apparently it did. It had been weeks since I last saw Isaac being dragged off the Lacrosse field by Sheriff Stilinski for murder charges. "It's nothing, I thought I heard something but I guess I was wrong. Now come on, can we please just let this go and get to chemistry? I'm exhausted enough as it is." I plead with the two.

"Fine but, you gotta show me your powers when we get back to your place. Deal?" Stiles compromises and Scott nods along excitedly.

"Ugh. Fine. I have an entire chest full of spell books and books about me anyway, you can read them aloud and I will perform." Planning a nice after school activity to help me rid my mind of if Isaac was okay or not. As we walk into chemistry we all sit down, I partner up with Lydia and Stiles and Scott sit in the table behind us.

I overhear them talking about a certain problem, being Isaac. Little to my knowledge these last few weeks he was on the run as a fugitive, Derek had been letting him stay at his loft. But, Derek had also been turning him against Lydia, in belief of Lydia being the Kanima we were all after.

"Please tell me it isn't who I think it is.. Scott.. Stiles.." I whisper as I turn around to confront them only to make eye contact with Erica and then Isaac who sat directly behind them. Isaac shooting me a wink and Scott turning back to look at me.

"Oh shit.." I turn back around both excited and confused as to how he was back. I hadn't really been in on the loop of the entire thing until last night so I'm guessing Jackson retracted his statement which made Isaac look guilty and like the number one suspect for his dad's death. We continued class and attempted to stop them from giving Lydia the Kanima venom to test and see if she was in fact the giant lizard who killed people every time the sun went down. When it was suddenly my turn to partner up with Isaac in the experiment.

"Hey princess, miss me?" He whispered into my neck quickly placing a kiss to my collarbone when no one was looking but I could very well sense Scott listening in. Isaac was not one to hide our relationship or attraction to one another from anyone, not even Derek. So this, wasn't a ruse or a plot to get me to spill anything on Lydia.

"Of course I did but you have to stop. It's not Lydia." I look him directly in those gorgeous blue eyes that I had missed so much and his gaze flickers to my lips. Mine following short after.

"I have to do this. If not for us, for Derek. He trusts me and the evidence is all there. She was immune to Peter's bite so, only one way to find out. I'm sorry." The teacher calls for us to switch again and I quickly grab my things in hopes of catching Lydia to be my partner but Isaac knocks my books over beating me to the punch.

"Sorry about that gorgeous, maybe next time." He sits next to Lydia who Allison had already warned not to talk to Isaac and looks over at me. I sit across the walkway from him listening in the entire time as Stiles and I fail to even try the experiment at hand. Lydia picks up the crystalized sugar covered in Kanima venom and Scott abruptly stands up shouting for her Lydia shoots him an annoyed look and takes a bite. Nothing. It was insane, it couldn't be real. She couldn't be the Kanima. The class ended soon after that and I grab Stiles' arm, making my way to my locker, Scott in tow.

"It's not possible. Tell me it's not possible. Scott!" I shout and Stiles clasps a hand over my mouth to shush me.

"Well to be fair Y/N/N you have missed a lot these last few weeks due to the whole 'I miss Isaac' episode you went through. And you saw, the venom did nothing to her. A snake can't be killed by their own venom. So." Stiles clarifies and Isaac is obviously listening in from his locker across from mine.

"So, my best friend is a giant man eating lizard who seeks revenge on people for what? Is there a pattern? Anything?" I ask Stiles and he shakes his head, Scott still too in awe of what had just happened to speak.

"We can't let them kill her, we have to find hard proof, video or actually see her turning into the Kanima." I make sure to focus my voice in Isaac's direction for him to hear me clearly and he slams his locker before walking to where I could only imagine Erica was. Had he changed? Was Derek doing this to him? Or was it guilt from his father dying the same night we slept together? I had to come up with a logical reason for Isaac basically switching over to the 'dark side'.

"I'll see you guys later I have to do something." I say shutting my locker and heading straight for Isaac. I walk up behind him and before he can turn around, Erica cuts in front of me.

"What do you think you're doing here." She growls at me.

"Listen bitch, this has nothing to do with you and as I am well aware you know, if you don't wanna be blown to bits I suggest you get out of my way." Heart steady and irises on full display. Isaac grabbing my arm to pull me closer to him.

"I wouldn't piss her off, Erica." He said, face adorned with that classic smirk of his. "Oh, is this the infamous Y/N Hale? Well honey, I think I can take you." Isaac's grasp tightening as I attempt to free from it.

"Don't, she's not our target, Lydia is. Focus, Erica."

"No, let her find out. Baby girl, I am not afraid of you, my brother or any other supernatural being known to man, got it? If you want a fight, you'll get it but I'll be the one walking away.." Erica scoffs, heart racing at the thought and just before I could pounce, Stiles comes by grabbing my arm.

"Okay! Hello! Y/N, let's go." He drags me away my hands shaking at the thought of ripping Erica to shreds.

"God! I fucking hate that girl, you get hot and all of a sudden you think you're the shit. Please, I'd like to see her try me." I mutter and Stiles shushes me as he walks me into the empty classroom.

"Listen, listen.. Husband privileges! You need to stay calm, so far from what you've told us you could very well blow the school up with one wrong move so please, Y/N.. Breathe.." He cups my cheeks pulling me into a hug. He knew I hated him using the 'husband' title against me even if it was a joke as kids, I always knew it was serious when he brought it up.

"I'm trying.. I just can't believe Derek would do something like this.. Trying to kill Lydia without any proof.. Without any solid evidence.. I.." I finally break. The only people who've ever seen me cry besides Derek, were Scott and Stiles. I guess Scott heard the ruckus and came rushing in.

"Hey, I just heard what happened from Isaac.. Why would you even think abo-.." He stopped when he saw me crying. Coming over to join the group hug we left school and headed to my place to come up with some form of evidence to prove to Derek that Lydia was innocent. Much to my dismay, Isaac had heard the whole thing from outside of the doors. Later that night he texted me, wanting to meet but before I could respond there was a knock at my door. Seeing Scott and Stiles fast asleep on the couch, I walk over and answer it.

"What're you doing here?" I sighed knowing exactly who it was.

"You cried.. But not because you were scared.. Because you were angry.. And I wasn't there.." I step out onto the porch and close the door behind me.

"I'm fine.. Just still learning to control my emotions so I can control my abilities.."

"Do you hate me?"

"Isaac.."

"Do you? I wouldn't be surprised.. I know what Derek's doing is insane but he saved me when I had no one but then, I had you.. For all of two weeks before everyone thought I killed my own father.."

"I didn't. Because that same night you were with me. And I don't hate you. I told you. I'll never hate you, Isaac."

"Well I guess you'll just have to keep telling me whenever I do something wrong."

"Or maybe stop doing crazy shit and we'll be okay."

"Can't promise that, not with our lives. Now can you please kiss me?" His eyes twinkling like stars in the darkest night sky. My hands make their way up his arms, one reaching behind his neck, pulling him down to me.

"Look who's begging now.. I missed you.."

"I missed you more.." I beamed at the confession and finally after weeks of wondering if he was even still alive, I got my guy back.

•

A/N: THIS WAS SO CRINGEY BUT ALSO JUST WHAT I IMAGINE ISAAC COMING BACK IN MY DR IS GONNA BE LIKE BECAUSE I AM WHIPPED.. ONCE AGAIN, SOMEONE SEND HELP.. ISAAC LAHEY HAD INFILTRATED MY HEART. ANYWAY! ENJOY! LEAVE FEEDBACK, TTYL! 🩷

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causetheturtle · 8 months

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Thoughts while rewatching season 3 of Riverdale:

1. K why did Alice’s farm style slay so hard? Like she looked so great

2. Love how Archie is literally in this prison FOR FUCKING MURDER and still nobody is scared of him - they saw this man in his nice little shoes his rich girlfriend gave him and were like “yeah this man is ducking useless”

3. VERONICA STOP BUYING YOUR BOYFRIEND NICE THINGS WHILE HE’S IN PRISON! He’s just gonna get this shit stolen your dad was in jail how do you not know how a prison works?

4. It’s so sad that the normies got hold of the “epic highs and lows of high school football” line because it really is such a perfect Archie line - this man is naive and kind hearted enough to believe a game of football is all that’s needed to fix the structurally broken prison system but if you haven’t watched the show and don’t know anything about Archie then it’s obviously gonna seem ridiculous

5. Riverdale relationship drama is so funny cause it’s like “Betty had a stress related seizure due her mother and sister joining a cult and didn’t tell Jughead” or “Veronica isn’t sure of the best way to help Archie through his time in prison”

6. Kevin asking Moose if he’s embarrassed by him of course he is Kevin have you met yourself? Your literally the worst

7. Organising a musical number and cheerleading routine for her boyfriend while he plays a game of football in prison is actually the most normal reaction Veronica Lodge has ever had to any situation ever

8. Realising I talk about Riverdale the same way all of the G&G players talk about G&G

9. Imagine being an adult in Riverdale and hearing that a new bar opened up under Pop’s and going for a night out to check it out but you get there and it’s just a load of teenagers doing musical numbers and drinking mocktails

10. Why is FP’s immediate reaction to any situation ever to just grab his son’s face and yell at him? Begging for this man to have a normal non-abusive reaction to something just one time

11. Will never stop thinking about the Midnight Club. It was the first episode of Riverdale I really watched and it’s still one of my favourites. Like the way all of the parents tried so hard and came so close to breaking their moulds and forging their own paths but they never did and just fell into exactly what the world and the people around them wanted to be AND how their kids are all in the same situation now? The narrative, the cycles, the generational trauma! This episode has everything

12. Knowing now that Sheriff Keller actually WAS into guys the whole time and it was just that he didn’t want to be with Moose’s dad makes the whole situation so much funnier

13. The idea that they were all booking out the bunker for certain nights a week is so funny - like did they have physical a schedule? Who kept the schedule? Did it just sit in like the offices of the Blue and Gold?

14. I fucking love Archie and Josie together and have fully convinced myself that Josie is somehow California Women

15. It needs to be studied what exactly the Heathers episode did to my brain because that one episode of TV completely rewired my brain chemistry and changed the trajectory of my life

16. It’s so sad that the happiest Polly ever got to be was when she was part of a cult. It’s also sad how much everyone’s farm fashion went off cause they all looked so good during that era

17. It’s actually a miracle it took so long for Fangs to actually die there were so many attempts on his life

18. God Veronica running multiple businesses at age 16 and none of the Riverdale adults batting an eye and just respecting her as a business women will never not be funny to me

19. The plot twist that Alice was actually working undercover to take down the farm actually makes her being so awful to Betty make less sense. Sure, she was doing it for the greater good I guess but like she didn’t have to give away her college money or sell their fucking house leaving Betty with the options of homelessness or moving to a cult to get it done

20. FP maybe if you need to get your teenage son to regularly come and help you with your job as sheriff then you shouldn’t be doing it? Although on the other hand Jughead would’ve gone to those crime scenes anyway so like maybe it’s a good thing FP was there as adult supervision

21. GOD the cult break out and scavenger quest are such amazing finales for this season. Everyone nearly dies about ten times, Kevin and Fangs no longer have kidneys, the core four staggering through the woods in formal wear close to death together, Cheryl and Toni coming to save them all with the power of gangs and bows and arrows, it had literally everything you could want!

22. Love how Hal Cooper is canonically one of the worst serial killers ever and every woman he’s been with tells him this to his face

#riverdale

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fandom-junk-drawer · 1 year

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The Witcher Headcanon (Modern AU) - OST

Jaskier loves music. He loves music so much, he made it his career. He's made a name for himself and his band, and he is really passionate about his music.

So of course music is an important part of his daily life. Yennefer and Geralt can always tell how he's feeling based on what he's listening to. Like when he gets dumped by his girlfriend of the week.

Yennefer opens his bedroom door, hearing his Sad Playlist consisting of sad 80's songs including Until I Find You Again and Should Have Known Better by Richard Marx, Against All Odds and Since You've Been Gone by Phil Collins (Genesis), I'll Be Over You by Toto, Every Time You Go by Paul Young, Missing You by John Waite, and Here I Go Again by Whitesnake. "Let me guess, (name) dumped you.."

And while he uses music to realx, cope, etc. he also just likes to have fun with it.

And he wants to share that fun with his friends, because why wouldn't they want to have their own personal sound tracks for their day? So he waits for opportunities to use music to make things more interesting, like:

Writing a song using nothing but the annoyed text messages Yen sends him, then singing it to her.

That particular experiment led to him using the mean messages Valdo Marx left on his social media posts to write a hit album that went on to win him several awards. Valdo had been frothing at the mouth p*ssed. It had been the ultimate insult.

Every time Geralt gets annoyed with him and tells him to f**k off, Jaskier gets his guitar and follows Geralt around singing I'm Gonna Be(500 Miles) by The Proclaimers, his Northern accent (which he usually tries to hide) on full blast. There is nowhere safe when he does this. Not even the bathroom. Geralt was onced forced to listen to Jaskier stand outside the bathroom door, singing while he took a sh*t. Yennefer thought it was as funny as h*ll. Geralt, not so much.

Jaskier has a wide variety of 80's music (because that is Geralt's favorite) that he uses to annoy entertain Geralt and Yennefer with throughout the day. But sometimes, he uses the same song for a certain type of situation.

Like when Geralt and Yennefer are having a romantic moment. They can be in the kitchen, on the couch, in the hallway...anywhere, and Jaskeir will immediately fire up the old school stereo, pop in a cassette, and play Glory of Love by Peter Cetera, or Now and Forever by Richard Marx

Geralt: *annoyed and slighly embarrassed* Hm.

And may all the gods forbid that Geralt be caught smiling at Yennefer when she's not looking because Jaskier WILL play The Way You Make Me Feel by Michael Jackson.

If he catches Yennefer doing it to Geralt, he's immediately singing I Want You by Savage Garden, or Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen. It embarrasses the ever living f**k out of her, especially when he does it in public because he has to make a scene. And when he starts singing, people start gathering.

If he really wants to embarrass Yennefer, he starts singing Bad Romance by Lady Gaga, AND does the dance.

Sometimes he gets Ciri in on it. Like when they burst into Geralt's room on a Saturday morning, jump on the bed and start singing The Best Day Ever.

If they really want to annoy Geralt, they start following him around singing Crazy Frog. Anytime, anywhere, Jaskier and Ciri give eachother The Look, and it's on. Geralt's body just instantly goes into flight mode the minute Jaskier starts making the motorcycle noises. Running is ineffective because they just follow him, doing the little dance.

Jaskier knows exactly which songs to put on when Geralt is having a hard time saying what he wants to say. The man is sometimes just not good with words, and 'Hmm' and 'Hm' can only go so far. So, Jaskier is always ready for those moments.

He carries an oldschool boombox and a small collection of tapes. They can be anywhere. In the car, in the house, walking down the street and Jaskier will f***ing pop up out of nowhere with his music.

The first time he did it, Geralt was in Roach, driving Yennefer somewhere, and the 'Hmm's weren't cutting it, and suddenly there was a little 'click' from the back and Because I Love You by Stevie B started playing.

Geralt glanced in the rearview mirror and Jaskier was there, sitting on the back seat with a huge grin, giving him a thumbs up and mouthing "I got you, bestie!" Geralt considered driving into the nearest concrete wall while Yennefer just smiled and asked Jaskier to turn it up.

She didn't think it was as funny when her and Geralt were walking around the mall, holding hands, and Geralt just so happened to spot Jaskeir coming towards them with his boombox, and it was suddenly a case of 'Making my way down town, walking fast'.

Jaskier starts playing Uptown Girl by Billy Joel, and now it's 'walking faster....', as people start looking at them, and the next thing they know Yennefer and Geralt are running through the mall, with Jaskier running after them, holding his boombox over his head.

Everytime Geralt was locked in his room, trying to deal with something alone, Jaskier would put his little cassette player outside his bedroom door and play supportive songs like I Will Be Here For You by Michael W. Smith and Never Surrender by Corey Hart. And he would play it over and over until Geralt decided to come out. Of course Geralt always grumbled that he was only coming out so Jaskier would turn it off. It definitley wasn't because the song made him feel better.

When Jaskier wants to make them laugh themselves onto the floor, he will put on Cotton Eye Joe and do the dance. If they are in public and the song starts playing, he start dancing. It's funny when it happens at a club or bar. Not funny when it happens in the middle of the grocery store.

Need to hype himself or Geralt up before they do something that will cause Yen to have to go get her box of "dumbass" band-aids? They will both be standing there singing Big Balls by AC/DC at the tops of their lungs.

If Geralt and Yennefer had a fight, you bet your a** Jaskier has sat down on the couch with his guitar and started loudly singing Richard Marx's Right Here Waiting For You, or Take This Heart.

If they even start arguing in front of him, Jaskier is putting on Hold My Hand by Michael Jackson.

They once p*ssed each other off so bad one night that they refused to be in the same room together. So of course Jaskier goes into the livingroom, turns on the stereo, cranks up the volume, and puts on Endless Summer Nights by Richard Marx.

When Geralt and Yennefer both stick their heads out of their isolation chambers, they see Jaskier standing in the dark in the livingroom, slowly waving his lighter over his head like he's at some kind of concert, and for some reason it's hilarious and they both just start laughing their a**es off.

When Yennefer and Geralt got 'divorced', Jaskier gave Geralt a cassette with One More Try by Tommy T on it, and made him drive them to Yennefer's house in Vengerberg. Then he shoved Yen into Roach. They had to sit there, the song playing on repeat, with Jaskier holding on to them so they couldn't get away. He made them stay there until they made up.

He had a big fight with Geralt once, and the Witcher was holed up in Roach, refusing to speak to him. Yennefer looked out the window to see Jaskier standing next to Roach, holding up his boombox and alternately playing Hard To Say I'm Sorry by Chicago and If I Could Turn Back Time by Cher. In the rain.

Yennefer had yelled at Geralt in his head Gods, Geralt, make up with him already! Look at him! The poor, sweet little b**tard is standing out there looking like a heartbroken teenager that's just stepped out of an old 80's afterschool special!

Jaskier even once gave Yennefer a surprise epic homecoming. She'd been gone for a whole week, and Geralt had been practically languishing. He'd spent the whole week, drifing aimlessly around the house or draped dramatically over the couch.

Geralt had been waiting for Yennefer in the driveway when she'd gotten back, and the second she'd stepped out of the car, Geralt had her in his arms. And at that moment, Jaskier had thrown open the second story window and leaned out, holding his boombox and blasting Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now by Starship.

Geralt couldn't even be mad. The timing had been perfect, and so had the song. Although he had been a little bit embarrassed when the neighbors had come out to see what all the fuss was about.

They'ed started clapping and whistling, and someone had tossed him a can of beer. And that had started a small impromptu welcome home block party.

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