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draining his balls making him cum over and over again just so he'll pass out and finally get a good night's sleep >>>>
#hikey#i love him so much and just want him to get good sleep and rest knowing he's loved and cared for#ya know???#i love taking care of a dom with as much tenderness and care as they do for me as their sub#like ideally he'd be passed out with his head in my lap while i play cozy games and watch him sleep#my sweet boy lil cutie pie baby#đ«
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wei wuxian vs. pragmatism: what MDZS intends to say about righteousness
copy/pasting most of my rather bitchy reply into its own individual post because i think it deserves to stand on its own.
so i think we can all agree that MXTX intends for us to read MDZS and conclude that wei wuxian is ultimately a deeply heroic and righteous person. whether you as the reader agree with this assessment of wei wuxian's moral character is another question entirely, but at the very least it is fairly obvious to all of us that MXTX intends for us to read him as a good person.
so why does MXTX call wei wuxian a good person? what aspects of his character and which of his choices make him a good person? what moral framework and what definition of morality does MXTX employ in order to call wei wuxian a good person?
i posit that MXTX argues that wei wuxian is heroic precisely because he is not pragmatic - because he adheres to his moral ideals despite the consequences, and because he did not make moral sacrifices at critical junctures of his life. the first half of this post will argue that wei wuxian is not pragmatic. the second half of this post will argue that this is exactly why wei wuxian is heroic, and that the moral framework employed by MXTX is deeply idealistic instead.
so let's begin.
let's start by establishing two things.
first: what MXTX argues about morality through the narrative of MDZS and the reader's own beliefs about morality are two different things. me saying "MDZS argues that xyz is righteousness" and me saying "i think xyz is righteousness" are two different statements. the following analysis is concerned not with what i myself consider to be righteous, but rather what MXTX argues through MDZS is righteous.
second: wei wuxian is not pragmatic.
what does it mean to be pragmatic? unless we are speaking about the school of philosophy specifically (which i am not here), being pragmatic means being grounded in reality and focused on practical outcomes. it means being result-oriented and considering the consequences of your actions before you act; it means acting only after you have considered the potential consequences of all possible courses of action and have then decided which outcomes are acceptable. being pragmatic also means recognizing when achieving everything you want is impossible. and, in such situations, being pragmatic thus entails compromising to achieve a desired outcome, even if that means you donât get everything they want. to put it in edgier terms, being pragmatic means being able to make moral sacrifices.
an idealistic person attempts the impossible. a pragmatic person recognizes when something truly is impossible.
wei wuxian is not pragmatic.
first, wei wuxian is not someone who carefully considers the consequences of his actions before he acts. in fact, he displays a startling lack of consideration for consequences. it repeatedly falls upon other characters to either try (and fail) to hold him back.
when wei wuxian punched jin zixuan for insulting first jiang yanli and then jiang cheng, did he consider that jiang fengmian and jin guangshan might then dissolve the betrothal, and that jiang yanli might have wanted to make a decision regarding that on her own? no. he just punched jin zixuan because he was mad that jin zixuan had insulted two people he loved.
when wen chao threatened mianmian, and lan wangji and jin zixuan stood up for mianmian, and then wei wuxian stood up for them by holding wen chao hostage in turn - did he consider that there might be consequences for humiliating and threatening the life of the son of a warmongering great sect leader who has already proven capable of attacking other sects? no. did he stop and think "alright, wen ruohan has already attacked the cloud recesses, which proves that he's willing to wage war against the other sects. threatening the son of a sect leader is an easy way to earn any sect leader's ire, and since i'm the first disciple of the jiang sect, this puts not just me but the entire jiang sect on wen ruohan's shitlist"? no. it would be one thing if wei wuxian weighed this possibility and then decided that rescuing an innocent girl and the people who defended her was more important was worth the risk - that would show that he considered the consequences and then made his choice. but the thought simply never entered his mind. he acted simply because he wanted to save mianmian, jin zixuan, and lan wangji from the wens; he did not think beyond that.
when wei wuxian busted the wen remnants out of the qiongqi pass labor camp, did he have a clear plan as to how he was going to weather the political fallout? did he have a plan more detailed than "live quietly in the burial mounds until everyone forgets about us"? no. when jiang cheng challenged him as to how he was going to survive the situation, he did not in fact offer anything more concrete than "we'll just wait for everyone else to forget about us." he blustered about being a once-in-a-generation genius who could accomplish the impossible, but he provided no actual plan as to how he was going to do it. this leads me to conclude that wei wuxian did not in fact have a long-term plan for handling the consequences when he went ham at the qiongqi pass camp - that, instead of weighing the consequences and then making his decision, he instead decided immediately that this was something he had to do, consequences be damned.
and then - on top of this - all of his following actions then point in the exact opposite direction of his stated plan of waiting for everyone to forget about them. because instead of doing anything to fade into the background, everything wei wuxian did instead just convinced the jianghu he was an intolerable threat.
and this was not a sustainable strategy.
one thing i really appreciate about MXTX is that she does not make the rest of the jianghu into one-dimensional villainous morons. it's quite easy for lazy writers who want a persecution plotline to have the rest of the story's society magically start hating on the protagonist for no good reason, to make every background character in the story's world a three-braincell moron. but MXTX is not that author. it speaks to MXTX's skill as an author that, from the perspective of the rest of the jianghu, fearing wei wuxian as a mortal threat was an entirely reasonable conclusion for them to come to.
first, the gentry's most recent direct interaction with wei wuxian during this time period is him threatening to kill all of them. when jin zixun doesn't give him the information he wants, wei wuxian straight up says: "if i want to kill everyone here, who can stop me? who dares stop me?" this is a threat! and - surprise - threatening to kill people naturally makes people think that you want to kill them!Â
next, wei wuxian refined wen ning's dead body into the first sentient fierce corpse in history, and also the strongest fierce corpse in living memory - and then took wen ning with him on night-hunts. that's where the reputation of "the yiling patriarch and his ghost general" comes from. this very naturally made the rest of society fear him even more, because now the guy who has just recently threatened to kill you has demonstrated even more of the power to easily do so! the unparalleled power to do so, which no one else possesses and it would be very hard for anyone else to counter! add in the fact that wei wuxian's activities were also attracting prospective disciples - people gathering outside the burial mounds because they wanted to learn demonic cultivation - and naturally the public is even more frightened, because now it looks like the guy who threatened to kill all of you is also gathering the political force to do so!
the public is incorrect about wei wuxian's intentions, of course. but what does wei wuxian do to correct these misconceptions? to rehabilitate his public image, because now his public image has the life of not just himself but also all the wen remnants under his protection riding on it? to prove to the public that he isn't an active threat to their lives - that he does not seek to murder them all in their beds - that it is safe for them to allow him to live, and that they can in fact survive if they don't kill him?
nothing.
it would be one thing if the story mentioned how wei wuxian tried to correct the malicious rumors about himself and failed. but that is not what happened. what happened is that wei wuxian sat on his corpse mountain and let everyone else say what they wanted to say. and when he left his corpse mountain, it was to bring his one-of-a-kind unparalleled sentient fierce corpse with him on night-hunts, which of course just fanned the flames of the rumors instead. he doesn't even tell the prospective pupils camped on his front door to fuck off - he just sneaks in through the back door.
this is not pragmatic behavior. though you can argue that wei wuxian's strategy here was to become so powerful and so scary that no one would dare try to fight him, anyone with a brain can tell you that this is not a sustainable solution in the long-term. first, if you want to use threats to keep someone from attacking you, you also need to promise stability - you need to give people the reassurance that if they don't start shit with you, then you'll leave them alone too. if you drive the "threat" factor too high, as wei wuxian did, you instead end up convincing people that if they do nothing you'll kill them anyways - that they have no choice but to kill you if they want to survive.
second, if you want to use threats to keep someone from attacking you, you also need to prepare for the inevitability that, if someone does end up getting hurt, everyone will blame you first and no one will want to hear your side of the story. after all, if someone gets hurt, then the first suspect everyone looks towards will be the guy who's been consistently saying "i'm strong enough to hurt you! i'm strong enough to hurt you! don't start shit with me because i'm strong enough to end you!" for the past few months. this is basic common sense. and yes, the society of MDZS is unfair - wei wuxian deserved a proper trial and investigation after the death of jin zixuan. but the fact that society is unfair is something a pragmatic person would have recognized and planned for.
wei wuxian did not recognize and plan for this reality. even after he accidentally kills jin zixuan, wei wuxian still insists that if only the jianghu investigates jin zixun's hundred holes curse, they'll see that wei wuxian didn't cast the hundred holes curse, they'll see that there was more scheming going on, etc etc. wen qing has to directly spell out for him that, at this point, society no longer cares about the truth of the matter. it seems that wei wuxian was actually oddly idealistic about the true nature of his society all the way until the very end.
all of this leads me to conclude that, when wei wuxian busted the wen remnants out of the qiongqi pass labor camp, he did so without considering the consequences of his actions. he assumed that he could improvise and weasel his way out of this situation, as he's always done in the past with his typical genius - only this time, he was wrong.
wei wuxian acts without considering the consequences of his actions. he does not make a decision only after carefully deliberating over all of the potential outcomes - not at all. instead, he acts in the moment - not out of any rational consideration of potential outcomes, but rather because it is simply something he must do. this by definition makes him a deeply unpragmatic person.
to put it into more familiar terms, for wei wuxian, the righteousness of an action comes not from its consequences, but are rather inherent to the action itself. even if he were doomed to fail, he could not give up on the wen remnants.
second, at critical junctures, wei wuxian is unable to make moral sacrifices. to be pragmatic is to know when you have to sacrifice: to know when, in order to achieve the most inalienable of your goals, you have to give up on some of your other goals. this is something wei wuxian is consistently unable to do.
of course, when it comes to his own wellbeing, wei wuxian is all too willing to sacrifice. he'll carve out any number of his internal organs to save those he loves. but this honestly speaks less to wei wuxian's moral framework and more to his lack of self-worth from a troubled upbringing.
because, when it comes to any moral cause, wei wuxian is entirely unable to sacrifice anything, even if being unable to sacrifice entails more negative consequences. wei wuxian could not sacrifice mianmian, jin zixuan, and lan wangji to wen chao and his goons, so he took action and took wen chao hostage himself. to sit back and do nothing as wen chao threatened the lives of those three was simply unthinkable for him - even if it meant taking a course of action that put yunmeng jiang in danger.
wei wuxian's relationship with jiang cheng deteriorated because jiang cheng did not know about the golden core transfer: because jiang cheng did not know that wei wuxian could no longer cultivate, from jiang cheng's point of view, it looked like wei wuxian was just refusing to help out and fulfill his promises for kicks. wei wuxian could have made things a lot easier for himself and also any wen remnants he chose to rescue had he simply told jiang cheng the truth - but he knew that finding out the truth of the golden core transfer would make jiang cheng miserable, and [jiang cheng's happiness] was not something he was willing to sacrifice.
wei wuxian's single most prominent moral decision is his refusal to allow the wen remnants to be sacrificed. anyone with a shred of political sense had to know that rescuing the wen remnants and then protecting them would be near impossible - that it entails making an enemy of the jin, and due to the jins' power, the entire jianghu. wei wuxian himself knew this; he is no moron. wei wuxian also had no long-term plan, no allies, and significantly less power than the rest of the world believed. yet, despite this all, he acted anyways, because he could not let the wen remnants be sacrificed.
the wen remnants wei wuxian rescued from the qiongqi pass labor camp included both regular civilians and cultivators. perhaps wei wuxian could have negotiated a proper release for the non-cultivating civilians, such as granny wen and a-yuan, had he chosen to give up on the cultivators. but - the question of whether this would have worked or not aside - this was not a sacrifice wei wuxian would be willing to make.
nor could wei wuxian sacrifice the safety of yunmeng jiang. i am firmly of the belief that, had yunmeng jiang formally stood by wei wuxian's side after wei wuxian attacked the jin-run labor camp, lanling jin would have eventually declared war on yunmeng jiang, and yunmeng jiang's would inevitably be destroyed. both wei wuxian and jiang cheng understood this as well - which is why wei wuxian told jiang cheng to let him go.
(you can argue - successfully - that wei wuxian did in fact sacrifice [his obligations to yunmeng jiang and his promise to jiang cheng] by leaving yunmeng jiang to protect the wen remnants. this is true. but i think that - from wei wuxian's point of view - this was not much of a sacrifice, because due to wei wuxian lacking a golden core, he already viewed himself as mostly useless to yunmeng jiang. so him leaving - in his view - is not really that much of a loss for yunmeng jiang.)
wei wuxian promised wen qing that he would return wen ning's consciousness to his corpse. when wei wuxian made this promise, he had no idea if he could actually pull it off or not. but then he did - and, in the process, created the most dangerous weapon the jianghu had seen in living memory. wen ning specifically, or moreso wei wuxian's inability to control him, leads to so much of wei wuxian's eventual downfall: wei wuxian loses control of wen ning and accidentally kills jin zixuan; when wen ning goes to turn himself in at jinlintai, he ends up going berserk again and killing another 10-20 jin and lan cultivators, which leads to the nightless city pledge conference. frankly, wei wuxian could have avoided a lot of trouble - or at the very least, a lot of the public's fear - had he not raised wen ning from the dead. it's not like he'd be completely defenseless without wen ning, either. but wei wuxian promised wen qing he would resurrect wen ning - and he could not sacrifice his promise to wen qing because of what wen qing had already done for him.
a pragmatic person is able to make sacrifices, including moral ones. at the very least, a pragmatic person recognizes when sacrifice is inevitable, when all paths lead to something being lost. a pragmatic person, put in the trolley problem, would recognize that there were only two options and that both options involve sacrifice: either he must kill one person, or he must allow five people to die. there is no path forwards in which all six people live.
wei wuxian is unable to make moral sacrifices. he clings on to all of these moral causes, all of these promises and obligations, and it is precisely because he attempts to hold onto all of them that he ends up losing everything. to reuse the previous example, wei wuxian in the trolley problem tried to save all six people because he could not accept any of the sacrifices made inevitable by the trolley problem.
to put this all together - wei wuxian is not a pragmatic person. he makes decisions with his gut, not his head - he does not consider the consequences of his actions before he acts. nor is wei wuxian able to make sacrifices - even necessary ones in order to avoid greater tragedies.
but. none of this means that wei wuxian is not a deeply heroic person. rather, to do what you believe to be righteous and attempt to live up to your ideals despite the consequences is exactly what MXTX lauds as moral. and to be unable to make a moral sacrifice when everyone else in your society easily does so is in fact deeply heroic.
it is precisely because wei wuxian is not pragmatic that MXTX declares him a hero.
some people, including myself, favor a moral framework that centers pragmatism and reason as virtues. to us, the ideal moral character is someone who makes decisions based on reason and not emotion, who considers the potential consequences of every course of action before making a decision, and who then, based on these inferred future consequences, uses reason to deduce which of all of the possible outcomes is the most preferable.
but this does not in fact describe wei wuxian, nor is this how wei wuxian views ethics. and to be honest, i don't think this is how MXTX views ethics either.
in all three of her stories, MXTX repeatedly comes down harder on the characters who make pragmatic decisions, the characters who are willing to sacrifice. in fact, killing sunshot soldiers while acting as wen ruohan's spy, and then killing nie mingjue's men in order to ensure a chance at killing wen ruohan and saving nie mingjue, was the pragmatic thing for meng yao to do, because that was the least bloody path forwards towards a sunshot victory over qishan wen. in fact, cutting ties with wei wuxian after he attacked the jin-run qiongqi pass labor camp was the pragmatic thing for jiang cheng to do, because it was the only path forward that did not put yunmeng jiang, his first and foremost responsibility, in the line of fire. and yet (though the situation is less clear with jin guangyao), MDZS as a narrative criticizes both jin guangyao and jiang cheng for these decisions - because, to MDZS, righteousness does not lie in pragmatism.
(this is a statement i personally disagree with. but we are here to discuss what MDZS wants to say about pragmatism and righteousness, not what i want to say about pragmatism and righteousness.)
by contrast, the one single act for which deeply controversial jiang cheng is ultimately lauded for in the narrative is also his single least pragmatic, most emotional act. the one single act of jiang cheng's that MDZS does not criticize is when, after the fall of lotus pier, jiang cheng ran out from his hiding spot to distract the wen soldiers from seeing wei wuxian. from a filial, duty-based point of view, this was a deeply stupid and unpragmatic course of action: jiang cheng's first and foremost duty, as the sole surviving jiang and new sect leader jiang, was to survive, rebuild his sect, and avenge his parents. from a consequentialist point of view, this impulsive choice is also what led to the domino-fall of tragedy that followed, since jiang cheng then got captured and had his golden core melted, which then led to everything else. yet this stupid, unpragmatic, and impulsive decision is ultimately the one act MDZS considers to be jiang cheng's single most heroic.
the key as to what MDZS considers to be heroic, what it considers to be righteous, lies in the jiang family motto: æç„äžćŻèäžșäč, attempt the impossible. this line, taken from the analects of confucius, can be considered to be a deeply deontological ideal. i find this twitter thread (warning to my followers: does kind of dunk on JC) to be rather helpful in elucidating this line's meaning.Â
to attempt the impossible, to try what shouldn't be tried. "ask yourself not whether you can do it, but whether you should...consider not the result but rather the journey - have a clear conscience regardless of outcome." in other words, what matters is less whether you succeeded or failed, or what sort of outcome your actions brought about - what matters is that you tried. what matters is that, in the face of overwhelming odds, you tried to do what you think is right. and even if you end up failing - even if everyone you sought to protect ended up dying - the fact that you tried still has moral weight.
this is why it was righteous of wei wuxian to save the wen remnants - even though the ultimate consequences of that decision were overall negative, even though everyone wei wuxian tried to protect died. in fact, if wei wuxian had died immediately - if he had been shot down by jin archers at the qiongqi pass labor camp the moment he came within their range - if he had died before any wen in the labor camp realized someone wanted to save him - he would still be a righteous person. because, for MDZS, what makes an action righteous is not its consequences. for MDZS, what makes a person righteous is not what impact their actions have on the world, but rather that they have the sort of moral character that leads them to never give up on their ideals.
wei wuxian does not consider the consequences of his actions before he acts. or, should i say - wei wuxian makes decisions despite their consequences, because despite the consequences there are simply some moral causes he simply cannot give up on. wei wuxian did not save the wen remnants because it was pragmatic to do so. it was in fact deeply unpragmatic to do so. no - wei wuxian saved the wen remnants without a concrete long-term plan, without having thought through anything beforehand, with the knowledge of how weak he was in reality - because he could not give up on the wen remnants, consequences be damned.
to have some moral causes you simply cannot give up on, no matter the consequences - to MXTX, is deeply heroic. in this sense, MXTX's moral philosophy is not pragmatic at all, because to be pragmatic is to be concerned with practical consequences. instead, both wei wuxian and MXTX herself are deeply idealistic, because what matters to them are ideals and principles that extend beyond consequence.
as the linked twitter thread notes, this is why MXTX waits until the very end of the book to reveal that wen yuan, now lan sizhui, lived. this is why wangxian only meet mianmian and her family at the end of the book. this is why all of the cumulative positive impacts of wei wuxian's resurrection -Â jin ling forgiving wei wuxian, jin guangyao, and wen ning, for one - are kept to the end of the story: because MDZS needs to move away from the consequentialist argument. MDZS needs to establish that wei wuxian's righteousness is separate from the impact of his actions: that wei wuxian isn't righteous merely because his actions had a positive impact for which others can thank him, but rather because the actions he undertook were inherently righteous on their own. that even if none of these positive impacts existed - if wen yuan had also died, if mianmian hadn't made it - then wei wuxian's choices would still be moral.
this is also why MDZS ultimately comes down harder on characters like jiang cheng and jin guangyao, even though a more results-oriented moral framework would instead laud such characters. both jiang cheng and jin guangyao are deeply pragmatic characters: they put concrete results before abstract moral ideals, and they're willing to compromise on their ideals in order to achieve better results. i am a JC stan and a jiggy apologist because of these exact traits. but MDZS is a narrative that criticizes such pragmatism and instead holds up wei wuxian's idealism as a moral ideal - so, in order to advance its themes, the MDZS narrative ends up criticizing both jiang cheng and jin guangyao.
ultimately, this idealism - this criticism of pragmatism - lies at the heart of MDZS's themes. wei wuxian's righteousness is directly connected to the fact that he is not pragmatic. the fact that wei wuxian makes moral decisions despite the consequences, and that he is unable to sacrifice any moral cause - is all part of what makes him at once deeply unpragmatic and deeply heroic.
---
you see, the funny thing here is that i personally disagree with this theme. as i've said before, i'm a utilitarian. to me, the morality of an action does in fact arise from its consequences; to me, someone who compromises on their ideals to achieve better results is preferable to someone who adheres to all of their ideals and then loses everything. the character i consider to have had the greatest positive impact on this story's world is jin guangyao. the character i consider to have most dutifully fulfilled his obligations is jiang cheng.
therefore, i disagree with basically everything i wrote up there about "trying": i think that if you try to do the right thing, fail epically, and in the process of your failure get a bunch of other people killed as well, the fact that you failed this badly does in fact matter quite a bit. the bulk of my more haterish posts are born from this fundamental disagreement with what MDZS posits is righteousness.
however. as a reader i must recognize that [what i consider to be moral] and [what the author of this story considers to be moral] are two different things. my own moral philosophy may be heavily results-oriented, but MXTX's is much less so. therefore, regardless of what i think of wei wuxian, i conclude that MXTX ultimately intends for us to read wei wuxian as a heroic figure for the exact reasons i gave above - and that fact must then inform every analysis of MDZS i write.
#mdzs#wei wuxian#yanyan speaks#this analysis is also focused on wwx's first life bc wwx in his second life seems to give much fewer shits about moral causes tbh#second life for wei wuxian + all the good rewards at the end is basically a victory lap lol#anyways rip jiang cheng and jin guangyao for being pragmatists in a work that celebrates idealism#get dunked on ig#anyways wwx antis will read the above and go âwell isn't this just a lot of words for 'the road to hell is paved with good intentions' â#and like. yeah. that's correct#but mxtx is placing the majority of the moral weight on those good intentions imo#to mxtx - it is better to have heroic intentions and fail epically than it is to have unheroic intentions and achieve decent results.
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also on my hands and knees dying to know about ur divorce (and perhaps reconciliation maybeâŠ) with sir croc
Firstly I wanna say croc is THE reason for the divorced tier I had everyone in the husband/fiance/bf (and cusp + complicated) tiers I had the list downloaded and then I looked at croc in the husband tier and I was like no. DivorcedâŠâŠâŠ
Anyway I think youâre a marriage of convenience at first. Crocodile needs a wife to look more like An Upstanding Citizen Ready To Settle Down for his plans in Alabasta, you need the stability and rapport for your own reasons. A deal was struck (including a nice shiny prenup and an easy way out for both of you), the wedding goes off without a hitch, and now youâre cohabitating.
Youâre all but a stranger, truthfully, though heâll admit you were one of the most beautiful brides heâs seen walking down the aisle. And he finds your presence in his home less distracting than expectedâyou stay out of his way mostly, though the pair of you eat meals together and sleep in the same bed and you are always expected to be on his arm for formal occasions. Youâre more than decent company, slowly warming to him and growing more open; willing to give advice on occasion, even, and itâs good advice heâs prone to heeding.
Which is why heâs blindsided when you drop the papers on his desk. Thereâs little he can doâthey were practically already signed before the wedding, and in the surprise he canât compose himself enough to think up a proper protest. All he can do is fold his hands together as you turn to leave, clear his throat, and call out, âMight I ask why?â
You shrug. It almost seems sad. âI want something more. Youâre a very busy man, I donât think you can give that to me.â
And those words haunt him, all the more because every trace of you is gone in the span of a few days. He lays in his bed, alone, pondering how much you truly lived in his home and how much he truly had to give you. He thought he made sure you wanted for nothingâbut, clearly, that wasnât the case. And if heâd known youâd be gone in the span of a few yearsâŠ
In hindsight perhaps heâd been a bit distant. His work took up the vast majority of his time. All those meals were more often than not spent in silence, with Crocodile leaving long before you finished your food; you were often asleep before he came to bed, still slumbering when he woke; heâd arrive to those formal events with you on his arm and part ways almost immediately, drawn to meet with some politician or another and leaving you on your own.
The bed feels empty.
And then he gets a report about Nefertari Vivi. It all goes downhill from there. The empire he spent years building crumbles beneath his feet, toppled by that godforsaken princess and the upstart pirate with a straw hat. And as heâs carted off to Impel Down⊠he still thinks of you.
Itâs perhaps a good thing that you left when you did. In a certain sense it saved you, severing ties with him when you did. But foolishly he wonders about the timingâwonders if it would have happened at all if youâd stayed. Logically he knows the rationale is anything but sound.
Instinctively⊠whenever he gets out, whatever he intends to do next, he thinks he needs you at his side again.
So when the break-out happens, and Crocodile is given a freedom heâd nearly given up on, the first thing he does is begin to track you down.
It takes more than he thought it would. His web of informants isnât half of what it once was, and his name no longer pulls as much weight, forced to remain in the shadows as he now is. You, meanwhile, catch onto the mystery person trying to keep tabs on you far too quickly for his likingâflighty thing, never quite setting down roots, quick to flee at the first sign of danger. A trait that has only seemed to worsen in his absence, it seems.
But itâs only a matter of time. Heâs Sir Crocodile after all, back from banishment to the depths of the ocean, sure to see the sun again. His men close in on you within a year as he builds up his numbers again, but Crocodile ensures heâs the first to make contact.
He intends to show you immediately how things will be different this time.
Youâve made temporary home on a quaint little island, sharing a house with a little old granny who lets him in eagerly when he presents a bouquet and says itâs for you. There he waits, served tea and biscuits that he doesnât taste.
And then the door opens. You pause when you see him, eyes wideâdonning a breezy sundress youâd never have worn for him in Alabasta, your hair wind-tousled so unlike the meticulous updos he always saw you in, with a basket of produce under armâand the sight of you has his chest unwinding. Itâs like he can breathe again.
Not that he had any intentions to before, but the smell of your familiar perfume steels his resolve to never let you disappear again.
#one piece x reader#sir crocodile x reader#ask.đ§#saintshigaraki#char.đ§ sir crocodile#mine.đ§#concept heavily discussed w kae and alec on discord LOL so ty if u see this đ«¶đ»#maybe tomorrow Iâll write readerâs side of the reunion but I am Eepy so I leave it there LOL#but justâŠâŠ. him being a bit neglectful the first go. kinda taking you for granted#and then having the shock of his life when u leave + he is taken down#and it turns into this almost psychosexual thing where u represent that success & power & being on the top#so he Needs you again and this time he will Not ignore u he will cherish you and hold you tightly and shower you w whatever you want#(unless you want a longer leashâŠâŠâŠ he will not give u that. u will be staying close)#(on his lap ideally)#anywayyyyy#did NOT proofread I am so tired LMFAOOOOOO#cw.yandere#I suppose LOL
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revising for my exams with a plushie in my lap because its that kind of day
#his name is goomba and hes a shark#hes about the size of a toddler and he can sit upright#i can rest my chin on his head when hes sat in my lap#ideal revision partner#life updates with jelly
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no i gotta say one more insane thing about them before i go to bed. sheâs gotta be so touch-starved, right? like, sheâs Always careful, sheâs Always covered up, and that one moment where she allows herself to kiss bobby in x2, she goes in so hard and fast and hungry for it that she starts to drain him. but thatâs it, thatâs as far as she gets to sate it because itâll always either end with her being pushed away for that personâs safety or with her hurting them so badly that they canât come back from it.
except. well. that wonât happen with logan. because heâs not scared of her, and he wonât shove her away. heâd let her take and take and take and take. has.
so think about marie getting to feed her touch-starvation bit by bit with him. coaxes herself into hugs where sheâs a little less careful, presses her face to his neck for a moment. rolls her sleeve up so he can hold her upper arm. gets to lay in his lap and get her hair pet, little shocks of her power latching onto his fingers as he runs fingers over her scalp. because heâs the only one she can have this with, so he has to let his own barriers down to give it to her. he canât just let her starve. he wouldnât. so the wolverine learns how to cuddle. for her.
#ideally this is still in the canon mode of their relationship btw so theyâre just Weird about each other#and rogue is still trying to date bobby because you know. she should be and he is sweet.#sheâs just also spending 90% of her time when loganâs at the mansion in his lap getting touched. because she needs it so so bad.#you know :3
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in which, a mad beast, in the midst of his Hunt, wearing the immeasurable malice of his own wrath and bloodlust, meets the victim of a society crueler then even himself. and dare he do this, be it out of childish interest, curiosity, a playboy show of arrogance-
he-shockingly-doesn't turn his eye.
(WARNING HEAVY ART THEMES UNDERCUT; No gore, but Imprisonment, implied abuse and torture)
"...Oh?"
"What do we have here~?"
#mypost#note this post by no means glorifies burning spice's own thoughts ideals and actions but he does hold some symbiose of honor and standards#albiet immoral ones that entirely depend on his own degree of interest; his amusement and value of entertainment#but honor nonetheless#he plays and crumbles with his prey for the fun and sadistic thrill of it but not for no reason at all#there are methods of brutality even burning spice doesn't touch#my art#crk#cookie run kingdom#cookie run#burning spice cookie#tw imprsionment#tw implied enslavement#tw implied heavy abuse#dont mind me just showing off exactly the places my mind goes#just to have the chance to sit in this dude's lap and not be immediately cut down#in my defense the beasts are interesting charas to explore#and exploring what could be the monster's questionable moral obligations is a curious and incredibly fascinating thing.#crk burning spice cookie
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not pictured: me lying at his feet in a melted puddle of desire
#heâs tripping over me but itâs fine#for all maximusâ softness and sweetness and tenderness#heâs also the fiercest and most terrifying force of nature when he fights#get you a man who can do both#heâs scary and unbeatable and threatening TO YOU#for me heâs got heart eyes and hands as light as a feather đ„°#if heâs your ruthless archenemy who must be eliminated then whatâs he doing with his head in my lap falling asleep while i stroke his hair??#huh??? what about it punk????#idk what these tags are#iâm just freaking out over him#over his precious duality of sweetness and harshness#iâm constantly torn between needing him to make sweet love to me#versus absolutely rail me against his cell bars#BOTH#both is good#both is ideal#make me your wife sir#make me even more of a lovestruck fool for you than i already am#jk i could never unless??? đ#gladiator#maximus#maximus decimus meridius#gladiator 2000#russell crowe
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Ok. Get closer why donât you.
#Chakotay opens the door to Janeway's ready room and the two of them are literally in each other's laps#but they're talking very seriously about work business and seem unperturbed by Chakotay's entrance#<- my ideal (bc I think it's funny)#Chakotay: What are you and Tuvok to each other?#Janeway: ?? He's one of my dearest friends and most valuable officers.#Chakotay: Right. No..it's just that I saw you kiss his hand the other day? As if pledging loyalty to a monarch but more tender than that -#there was a glitter in your eyes like love but to call it 'love' would cheapen it so you leave it unnamed? I just saw that and was curious.#Janeway: That's just a friend thing v_v are we on for dinner?#Chakotay: Sure (later) Hey Tuvok what is Janeway to you?#Tuvok: She is one of the greatest individuals I have ever had the honor of knowing - someone I consider a friend - family -#and a piece of my very soul can be found within her. Why?#Chakotay: Aren't you married?#Tuvok: -equivalent of sighing- it isn't romantic. (right. yeah of course.)#<- my ideal (bc I think it's hilarious)#It isn't romantic Chakotay my God...Have you read any poetry lately? Once you get 1000 hours into ancient poetry THEN maybe you'll get#what's going on#Also sidenote this crew is fucking doomed mental health wise HEHEHE they tried therapy ONCE (after trying 'literally just erase the trauma')#and the therapist FELL ASLEEP#I love these bastards HEHEHEHE#Janeway: Doctor I'm going to do my best to help you...I allowed you to evolve into a being greater than a mere hologram and I owe it to you#to let youzzzzzzzzzzzzz zzzsnorkmimimimi#tuvok cam
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The best thing about living with cats is that sometimes they'll just meander over and sit next to you expectantly, and then you can give them a little forehead boop with your forehead and that's all they really want.
#me đ€ cats: enrichment and affection via boop#and then other times they put themselves directly into your arms while you're on a call for 'PAY ATTENTION TO MEEE' reasons#which is less ideal but also. relatable.#sometimes when I'm wfh my spouse will be on work calls for hours at a time#and in every way but physical I am sitting outside his closed office door crying about not being allowed to curl up on his lap and nap
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my dog has decided that this is how we should sleep tonight and ngl i love him but i have some critiques here
#he CORRALLED me#heâs Very old and everyone was worried he wouldnât be as attached to me anymore since i was gone for so long#but i really cannot leave the room without him chasing after me#very slowly though because heâs old and his legs are short#im SO obsessed with him#oh plot twist i was typing tags and our cat came in#so now my legs are straight and sheâs on my lap#and i am in a position that is Not ideal for sleeping#like 70% of this bed is not being used despite three creatures being on it smh#why are they like this#my dog best boy on earth for real though#canât even complain that much because itâs my BOY and he still KNOWS me and he still LOVES me#i WILL cry if i think too much about it#at least my legs are straightened now so my knees arenât completely locking up anymore ig#life junk#not anime
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yeah im into bdsm
-Being
-D
-Soft to old
-Men
#taken from my dms with my friend however it's very much the mood today. and every day#im on that fucked up shit (wanting to pet his hair as he rests his head in my lap)#my ideal date is 6-8 hours of cuddling. whats not clicking#anyway . you all know
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Kirk and spock are soooo low maintenence you have no idea
#random thoughts#star trek#sorry im thinking about the sex lives of the captain and his second in command rn#kirk? absolute pillow princess. he does not want to do ANYTHING.#he will let spock manhandle him and push his face into the matress and he will be GRATEFUL#he does not want to do shit or jack. he has had so much sex over the years and has done so much weird shit he's tired guys (he's like 36)#the most active kirk gets is when he sucks spock off under his desk okay he's fucking lazy#god he's probably so into cockwarming. he doesn't want to come he just wants to sit there and be full#he's fine with whatever but if he has to use his core muscles or pelvis in any way shape or form he'll be so brave about it (he's so mad)#spock is just happy to be here tbh#spock likes touching!!! he does not like to be touched. he must initiate the touching.#spock wants to touch and to rake and to bite and to absolutely fuck up kirk's back#(taking a break here i think eventually after like twenty years they gradually stop having regular sex. queens of lesbian bed death)#he wants to sit on kirk's lap and go absolutely mad dog at his neck. bark and growl even#ideal scenario for spock is for kirk to just not acknowledge whatever shit he's doing he does not want to be PERCEIVED#so what if he grabs kirk's hand and puts it on his face. what are you a cop#he WILL grab kirk's hand and kiss EVERY SINGLE ONE OF HIS FINGERS and kirk will NOT DO SHIT SO HELD HIM GOD#he will do some shit and absolutely not acknowledge it even if kirk brings it up#'spock what in the world are you doing' 'i don't know what you mean captain' and he WILL do it again#kirk does NOT have to do anything#god they've probably dabbled in somnophilia. spock would be so into it#like it's not that spock DOESN'T want kirk to be involved when they have sex. but like.#spock doesn't like it when people watch him work#he probably watches kirk sleep sometimes. pokes his face to watch it twitch like touching a snail's eye stalk.#i dont think they have conversations about sex. like actual in-depth conversations#spock tries but kirk usually gets so awkward about it he agrees to whatever just to get spock to shut up about it#kirk: communication is key to a healthy relationship except when i do it specifically with spock#spock is just so. CLINICAL. it's hard to listen to (if you know what i mean)#spock has used kirks aversion to talking about sex to his advantage (used it to unknowingly make him agree to upgrades to the science wing)#kirk probably likes voyeurism. spock feels weird about kirk watching him masturbate
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I also pet a sheltie today and the lady was talking about how he's super smart and friendly and rarely sheds and doesn't need brushed super often and I was like "I want to take your dog"
#his name was Tucker#he was also here in 2019#there was also an extremely friendly chocolate lab who kept putting his head in everyone's laps#and tried to lay on me#unfortunately I am allergic to labs because they really are ideal dogs#he had a little white spot on his chest too which was so cute#both of them kept staring at my mask so I bent down to let them sniff it#they were like ''where is your face??''
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None of the Parenting 101 books that your husband, Toji, read during your pregnancy could've prepared him for the unmatched curiosity of your now four year old son, Megumi.
"Daddy," said Megumi, while sitting on Toji's lap, "what do you do for work?"
"Sticking your nose into other people's business, now, are you?" he joked. "Why do you want to know, kid?"
"'Cause I wan' know." Yup, preschoolers could be as sassy as ever.
"Cheeky little thing," Toji said, giving his son's chubby cheek a playful little pinch.
"Daaaaad, just tell me already."
Toji hesitated for a bit, before complying. "I get rid . . . of peopleâ"
"That are bad!?" an overly eager Megumi asked, his eyes shining. Honestly, for someone his age, he should not be excited by the idea of his dad killing people, but he had some ideals different from others. Courtesy of his innocence.
"Sure."
You giggled quietly to yourself from your seat on the living room couch as you watched the whole situation unfold; your son, jumping up and down, and your husband, looking as bored as he always did.
"So you're like a superhero!"
Toji grinned at his son, ruffling his sea urchin-like hair. "Nah, not quite."
Confused, Megumi asked, "But you're strong. . ? So that means you're Superman!"
"Nope."
"Batman! Because he always wears black and is super duper scary."
"Not even close, buddy."
Laughing, you couldn't help the comment that escaped your lips, "Wish you were as rich as him, though."
Toji deadpanned, "You married me."
"I'm not complaining, am I?" you teased, pressing a chaste kiss to Toji's temple. Just as you were about to back away, you let out a high pitched squeal as he pulled you back for a real kiss.
Unlike most kids, who would say "Yuck", Megumi, beaming at the both of his parents, giggled innocently. "Mommy should marry Batman! Because he is rich, and makes the bad people go bye-bye!"
#i like writing little megumi as a bubbly kid#<- (when surrounded by ppl he's comfortable with)#but i also want to try writing a shy megumi . . .#toji x reader#jjk x reader#jjk x you#toji fluff#megumi fluff#toji x you#toji fushiguro x reader#em writes ËËË
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you're my shotgun lover and i want it all | tyler owens (twisters)
masterlist â
summary:Â Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows â at least you donât think they do â and you never talk about it when youâre sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but heâs always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and youâve never made that mistake again. There isnât a name for what you feel for him, you donât think, and you canât tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldnât be making eyes at you from across three peopleâs laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells. author's note:Â i...wrote this...in one.......single......afternoon. my fingers hurt anyway he's so hot i have had a crush on glen powell since 2018 (set it up supremacy) but this movie reawakened something in me. i should probably watch top gun now
pairing:Â tyler owens x f!reader word count: 9,123 (...oopsie) warnings/tags:Â pWp (with, y'all!), alternate universe: canon divergence, friends to lovers, friends with benefits
also cross-posted to ao3 okay love you bye xoxo your comments and reblogs are appreciated but not required i will love you all the same i hope u like !!!! <3
all characters are 18+ these are 18+ activities minors pls do not interact my eye is twitching as i write thisÂ
It has been one hell of a week.
The tornadic activity has been off the charts â more storms built up under ideal conditions for weather hell-bent on destruction in a multiple-day stretch than you can remember ever tracking before. Your team had obviously been up for the chase, but now that the storms have passed, and the sun shines on the cleanup efforts, you canât help but wish youâd chosen a different life path. You love what you do, but God, were you tired. Blisters have formed on the palms of your hands despite the gloves youâd donned. You could practically feel the knots forming in your neck. You shovel one more load of leaf litter before heaving the blade into the ground and leaning against it. Across from you, a backhoe is demolishing and excavating the remains of a house.
You close your eyes and try to just let the sun warm your face, thinking about how fast it can all just be gone. Mother Natureâs a beautiful force, but she can be cruel.
âHey, donât be slowinâ down on me,â Tyler jokes, clapping a hand between your shoulder blades. You hadnât heard him approach, and his voice has startled you, pulling you from your thoughts. âWeâre âbout halfway done with our part, I think.â
âNo,â you reply, swiping the back of your arm across your forehead, trying in vain to clear your bangs from your eyes, but they wonât budge. Tyler reaches up and, almost as if he isnât even thinking about it, takes the unruly pieces of hair between his thumb and forefinger and tucks it behind your ear, underneath the temple of your sunglasses, to make sure it stays this time. The action is so intimate it sends a flush crawling up your neck. You chance a look around to make sure no one else has seen. âNot slowinâ down, I promise. Just thinking about how lucky we are to be alive. How sad it is that all these people just lost everything.â
Youâve known Tyler since the two of you were in college together, fast friends whoâd stuck together through a lot that could've put a strain on any other relationship, although you hadnât studied meteorology â youâd been in school to be a librarian.Â
One night, heâd asked you to stay up and help him with a lab heâd missed for one of his classes, and he loves to say he knew it then â that you were hooked â but you were too far along in your degree to do anything about it now. Switching from an arts degree to one in STEM? Youâd have had to start over from scratch.Â
Tyler had formed his team while you were in grad school and he was working as a cowboy for the rodeo back home, and youâd dropped out without a second thought when he asked you to be a founding member, to travel the country with him every tornado season. Said he wouldnât â couldnât â think about doing it without you. Youâve been riding with him ever since.
The two of you share everything, always have, and sometimes you wonder if it might be too much for the professional relationship youâre supposed to have.
âThatâs what weâre here for,â Tyler grins, the hand still glued to your back rubbing gently, sending goosebumps across your skin under your shirt. âTo help âem feel like their luck is turninâ.â
Always the optimist, Tyler Owens. He clears his throat, the hand on your back pulling away, and steps slightly closer to you.
âOne of the folks over there gave these to me,â he says, gesturing to a group of people gathering in front of a house that looks like something had tried to suck it into the ground from dead center. âI saved their cat from their screened-in porch, poor thing had been yowling all night apparently. Know theseâre your favorite, so, here you go. I think you earned it.â
You take the tin from him and open it, your mouth instantly watering at the sight of the small, round butter cookies inside. âGod,â you groan, picking one up and taking a bite, savoring it over your tongue. You can feel Tyler watching you carefully. âThank you. You get me.â
âDo we get cookies, Tyler?â
Lilyâs voice sounds from your left, and you glance over at her. The shit-eating look on her face tells you she did see Tyler fix your hair for you. Your stomach somersaults.
âIf youâre good,â Tyler says, smirking, âafter the sun sets, we can head back to the motel, find some shitty bar, and drinksâll be on me, okay? Howâs that sound?â
Lily whoops, turning to Dani, whoâd since appeared beside her, and the two snicker and fist bump.Â
âYou need any help over here?â
You look back at Tyler, cupping one hand above your eyes to shield them from the sunlight. Despite your glasses, it shines bright from directly behind him, and you can hardly stand to look at him.Â
âYeah, Iâm good,â you murmur in reply, bending down to toss some siding that had been blown off one of the houses on this street into the wheelbarrow youâve been using. âYou should go see what Booneâs up to â I donât think anyone has seen him in a minute.â
No doubt Boone was hiding somewhere with one of the breakfast burritos Lily and Dani have been rolling since early that morning, seeing how long he can get away with not doing his part. Heâs a good guy, but the manual labor side of the job isnât really his thing.
âEh, heâs better off wherever he is,â Tyler laughs, and a small smile takes over your face, too. âHey, you sure youâre okay? You donât need a break? You can take a minute to yourself, no oneâll judge. I know how this can all get to you a little more than it gets to everyone else.â
You know him well enough to know heâs not calling you weak-stomached, that heâs genuinely concerned for how you feel, but heâs right. It does all get to you. Settling in to help survivors of these natural disasters is just something that comes with the chasing â there isnât one without the other for you and the rest of the crew. You nod, glancing back up at him.Â
âIâm okay, Tyler. Go off and be the face of the operation â you donât have to worry about me.â
Tylerâs eyes narrow, his gaze shifting between your eyes, trying to find evidence youâre withholding the truth from him, but he seems to find nothing. With a minute tip of his head, he turns to resume working through a long-term plan for rebuilding the town with the mayor and some other members of the local government.Â
This is something else you know he loves to do â shmooze with higher-ups, show off his people skills. Not only are they higher-ups, theyâre small-town folk. His kind of people. He knows how to get through to them, how to get them to trust him. You love that about Tyler. Heâs never condescending â he always has a genuine desire to help. Heâs been through this hundreds of times, and these people may only have been through it this one time. You look around at them, at the people of all ages picking up the pieces that remain of their community, then cross your fingers and send a thought out to anyone listening:
Please let it be the only time.
After a few more hours of genuinely back-breaking work, you hear Tylerâs sharp whistle and know itâs time, meandering over to his truck where itâs been parked for almost eighteen hours. Using your teeth, you pull your gloves from your hands and hiss. Theyâve been rubbed raw, the skin blistering where each finger meets the palm. You try to ignore the throbbing sensation, leaning against the passenger side door and closing your eyes. The rest of the crew sidle up to you, taking long drags from water bottles and cigarettes and trying to make peace with how youâre leaving this place tonight.
âDoes anyone else want to break off to shower first?â
It seems Daniâs the only one, and they shrug, putting their hand out, palm up, to Dexter, who hands them the keys to the RV.
âMeet yâall there,â they say, stifling a yawn, and you know itâll be a bit before you see them. The rest of you will have to pile into Tylerâs truck, and before you can object, the other three crawl into the back seat and leave you on the front bench with Tyler. You let yourself in and close the door behind you, buckling and watching as Tyler shakes someoneâs hand and hustles to meet the rest of you. His Texans cap hits the bench before he does, between the two of you, and he turns his keys in the ignition, buckling his own seatbelt.
âWhere we headinâ?â
âThereâs a place with a mechanical bull nearby. I vote there.â
âHow nearby is ânearby,â Boone?â
âUh,â he pulls his phone from his pocket, does a quick Google to double-check. âForty-five minutes?â
Dexter leans over and grips Booneâs phone, reading the screen. âIn the opposite direction of the motel, Boone.â
Everyone groans, objecting, and you press your hand against your temple to alleviate the pressure there. The noise, God, the noise.
âCould we go somewhere closer to the motel, maybe?â
âItâs got a mechanical bull,â Boone stresses, and everyone rolls their eyes.
âBoone, you know damn well weâre not making it back to the motel if we go that far away.â
He groans, and you pull your own phone out, checking Maps to see whatâs around the motel.
âThis oneâs three minutes from where weâre stayinâ,â you say, showing Tyler your screen, and he nods, shifting into reverse, backing out, and starting down the one lane of the street thatâs been cleared of debris.Â
âHey Boone,â you toss over your shoulder as Tyler shifts into second gear. âBy the way. Long time no see.â
Lily snorts, smacking you on the shoulder to let you know she thought that was a good one. Boone shakes his head.Â
âHey, just because you didnât see me all day doesnât mean I wasnât out there, too. How do I know you were workinâ, werenât sitting on your ass in the shade somewhere, hm?â
You hold your raw, red palms out for him to inspect and that shuts Boone up quick. Tyler whistles as he gets an eyeful of your skin.
âGod damn, girl,â Lily murmurs. âThat looks like it hurts. I think I might have Aquaphor in my bag back at the motel if you want some.â
âIâll be alright,â you reply, knocking your elbow against her knee behind you in thanks. âAppreciate you.â
The rest of the drive is taken mostly in silence, everyone in the backseat trying to rest their eyes, but you stay up, your eyes on the road, so Tyler isnât the only one making the thirty-ish minute drive back to where youâre staying, where you checked in only after itâd been decided which towns had been hit the worst, so you could reach all of them easily by truck.
âWhatâs goinâ on in your head? Hm?â
You turn to look at Tyler and he glances at you from out of the corner of his eye, then at your lap, at the fingernails youâve picked down to the quick. âReal quiet over there.â
âNothing,â you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.
âDonât let Boone get to you,â Tyler says, tapping his right fist on your thigh once, twice, then letting it rest there. You brush your knuckles against his and he opens the fist immediately, taking your hand in his but not squeezing, careful not to put pressure on the blisters on your palms.
âItâs not that,â you start, then realize your mistake, your admission. âI really â I think Iâm just tired. Itâs been a long week.â
Youâre acutely aware of your hand in Tylerâs. Itâs not like youâve ever been shy around him â your cheeks flush at the thought â but this isâŠdifferent. Sweet. More.
âYeah, that it has,â he sighs, adjusting his left hand on the steering wheel so he can drive a little more comfortably, but his right hand stays in yours.Â
You settle back into silence, Tyler seemingly having dropped the subject, and your eyes return to the road, but you feel him looking over at you, checking on you, every once in a while. You try your hardest not to meet his gaze.Â
Soon enough, Tyler is putting the truck in park, then shutting the thing off. The noise â or lack thereof, you guess â wakes Dexter in the back, then Lily, who snorts when she sees your hand in Tylerâs. You pull away and unbuckle your seatbelt, watching as Tyler, with a hurt look on his face, wipes his hand on his jeans and swings himself down and out of the truck.
âCâmon, Boone,â he shouts, slapping a hand on the door that Boone has his head resting against, and the man sits up straight, wiping sleep from his eyes. âThe sun hasnât even gone down yet. Drinks on me, pal!â
The motel really is that close to the bar, so you all decide youâll leave the truck parked there and walk home at the end of the night. The unspoken verdict is that you will all be getting shitfaced tonight.
The lingering smell of cigarettes in the air seems to rejuvenate everyone and Lily pumps a fist when she spots the old-fashioned jukebox across the room, then claps a hand over her mouth when she realizes thereâs a TouchTunes sitting right next to it.
âOh, I am so forcing you fuckers to listen to Chappell Roan all night,â she says gleefully, and you laugh along with her, looping your arm in hers and letting her pull you across the room while the boys settle in at the bar.
âSo what was that all about?â
âWhat was what all about?â You play dumb, shrugging when Lily gives you a hard look and unhooks her arm from yours.
âGirl, seriously,â Lily scoffs, bumping your hip with hers and slipping a twenty dollar bill into the TouchTunes. Evidently she wasnât joking when she meant youâd be listening to Chappell Roan all night. âI saw that thing earlier, the hair thing, donât think I didnât. And yâall holding hands in the truck. Whatâs going on there?â
You shake your head but she grabs your wrist. âIâm serious, Lil. Nothingâs going on. Weâre friends â good friends. He noticed I was having a hard time today, and wanted to make sure I was alright. Thatâs all.â
You can tell she doesnât fully believe you, and when she opens her mouth to object, you cut her off.
âIâm gonna run to the bathroom, okay?â
Lily watches you, trying to read the small line between your eyebrows, but eventually she nods and lets go of you, letting you turn away from her. You push through the door to the womenâs restroom, your nose wrinkling at the smell, but you ignore it. Standing in front of the sink, you watch yourself, hands shaking. This isnât you. Youâre better than this at shoving these feelings for Tyler down, way down â or, rather, you had been, up until this week broke you, apparently. Turning the knob for the cold water to the left, you let it run over your sore hands, hissing at the feeling. Carefully, you cup your palms and watch them fill, then splash the water onto your face, soothing the flush. There. That should help.
Thereâs a cold bottle of Coors in front of the seat next to Dexter when you arrive back to the group, âRed Wine Supernovaâ playing from the speakers. You almost snort at all the old men â regulars, no doubt â groaning out their distaste for whoever chose the music all across the room.
âThanks,â you toss over your shoulder at Tyler, sitting on the other side of Dexter and Boone. He nods and nurses his own. You frown and settle onto the stool, leaning an elbow on the bartop so you can turn and face your friends. The cold beer against the palms of your hands feels so nice.
Whatâs wrong with him? He wonât make eye contact with you, and you notice his jaw clicking as he grits his teeth. Whatâs got his panties in a twist?
As the night unfolds, you find yourself laughing more and more, loosening up, letting the stress of the last week fade into memory. Someone has produced a deck of cards from God knows where and Dani â who did join the group eventually â is showing off card tricks you didnât even know they knew. You feel a warmth spreading through your body, and you canât stop thinking about how much you love all of these people. Your friends. Your family. Empty bottles are swiftly replaced with full, cold ones without notice, and everyone is languid, relaxed, unburdened by the work that youâre all doing.
You take a pull from your drink, using the cover of the bottle to risk a glance to Tyler three seats down from you to find that heâs already watching you, and the look in his eye tells you exactly what heâs thinking. That somersault-y feeling is lower than your stomach now. Youâre only three beers deep, but the air in your head reminds you that youâve barely eaten all day, so youâre a little more affected by the alcohol than youâd usually be. Impolitely, you reach across Dexter next to you to grab a handful of peanuts from the basket to his left.
Glancing back up at Tyler, you meet his heady gaze again, and he smirks around the lip of the bottle against his mouth. He knows heâs got you right where he wants you. You swallow nervously around another sip of beer.
Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows â at least you donât think they do â and you never talk about it when youâre sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but heâs always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and youâve never made that mistake again. There isnât a name for what you feel for him, you donât think, and you canât tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldnât be making eyes at you from across three peopleâs laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells.
âAlright, yâall,â Lily says, slapping a hand on the bar, startling you out of your thoughts. You watch her, popping a nut into your mouth. âThink Iâm gonna head out. I suggest you all do, too, fuckers, itâs late.â
Everyone starts to protest, but one glance at the clock tells you youâve all stayed much longer than you thought â itâs a quarter past midnight, and youâve got to be up with the daylight. You balk, but if you want to talk to Tyler tonight, you know youâve got to shoulder your exhaustion and stick it out a little longer.
âI think I might stay for a bit,â you murmur, watching everyone stand and gather their things. You glance over at Tyler, who you can see clearly now that everyoneâs out of their seats, and heâs watching you, too. The look on his face reads plain, now â he wants you.
âIâll stay with her,â he says, eyes on yours. The green in them has disappeared almost completely, you notice, his pupils blown wide. âWalk her back. Yâall head back if you want.â
âI might stay, too ââ Booneâs voice cuts off, coughing as Lily elbows him in the stomach, maybe a little too hard. âWhat the fuck was that for?â
âYouâre going to bed, too, Boone,â Dani interrupts, a hand on his shoulder, guiding him towards the door. They poke him once when he starts to protest. âCâmon, now.â
Everyone shuffles out the front, Dexter calling good night, and all of the sudden, itâs just you and Tyler. You donât know why, but your palms begin to sweat at the thought of being alone with him again. He stands, palming his drink, and slides onto the seat next to you, his body angled towards yours.
Heâs never made you nervous like this. You donât know what the fuck is wrong with you.
âSo,â Tyler starts, grinning at you. âYou come here often?â
You snort, emboldened by the booze, and he chuckles in response. âIdiot.â
âGod, but I do love making you laugh.â
You blush under his scrutinous gaze, and take a quick swig of the dregs of your drink, unsure what to say to that. He mirrors you, taking a sip of his own while his eyes bore into yours. Accusatory.
âYou donât do it much anymore, you know that?â
âDo what?â
âLaugh.â
You press your fingertips to your mouth and Tylerâs eyes follow your hand. âI guess I just havenât had much to laugh about lately,â you start, sighing deeply. âTornado seasonâs been hard this year, and you know how much that â it gets to me. As much as I love what we do. You know. Remember that family a couple weeks back whose daughter was stuck under her bunk bed when it pressed on her too long, lost her leg below the knee? That got to me, Tyler. It did.â
âIt gets to me, too,â he murmurs, knocking his knee against yours. âI guess Iâm just better at hiding how bad it affects me. You can talk to me about it, though. You can talk to any of us.â
âI know I can,â you breathe, trying to keep your hands from shaking. âI know. Sometimes I donât know what to say, though, you know, what is there to say? Itâs not fair to complain about how sad it makes me to watch these people lose everything.â
âYouâre allowed to feel sad. And to feel frustrated. Itâs not fair, youâre right, but weâre doing good work, yeah? Fighting the good fight. Figuring out what makes these things tick, how to warn people when theyâre in the path, get them outta the way and safe. Maybe they lose their house, their car, but they wonât lose themselves, or each other. Thatâs what matters most. Just remember that.â
You look up at him, set your elbow on the bartop, and prop your chin on your open palm. Your hands donât hurt so bad anymore, you notice. âThanks, Tyler.â
âAnytime,â he smiles, but you shake your head.Â
âSeriously. You always know what to say.â
A look crosses his face then, too quick for you to read, and he sets his drink down, flagging the bartender over to close out the teamâs tab. You frown, wondering if youâd, ironically, said the wrong thing.
âWhatâs up?â
Tyler looks back to you, and this time, the look in his eyes is unmistakable. It burns. âTaking you home, sweetheart.â
The walk back to your motel is done in silence. Tylerâs hand swings next to yours, and you feel it searching for yours more than once, but you donât take it. You climb the stairs together, slowly, and he walks you to your door. His room is one more floor up.
You can tell he thinks you wonât invite him in, that youâve changed your mind â or maybe that you never made it up. He hadnât, after all, told you plainly that that was why heâd stayed with you at the bar. You unlock the room with your key card and step inside, opening the door only far enough for you to fit through it. You turn back to look at him, his face awash in the street lights shining into the hallway. You flip the lightswitch on next to you, illuminating the room behind you, too.
âWell,â he murmurs, making to head back down the stairs. âGood night.â
âTyler?â
His head turns back to look at you, watching as you hold out one hand and he takes it, letting you pull him closer to you. You press yourself into him, push your whole face against his chest, your hip keeping the door from closing on the two of you. You inhale deeply, the smell of him overtaking your senses. His cologne, yes, but underneath that, the smell of dirt, earth. Home.
You feel his arms wrap around your back and you turn your head to the side, press your ear to his heartbeat. Your hands come up to scratch down his back and you feel it when he shudders.
âStay?â
You hear his breath hitch in his chest, then the deep rumble of his voice as he says, âAlright, baby.â
With a short inhale, your eyes flutter, nearly closing at the term of endearment. You step back, pulling him with you, and as you close the door behind you, he pushes one hand up into your hair and pulls your head toward his.
âI, uh,â you whisper against his lips when they get close enough to yours, âI think I might shower first, if thatâs okay with you?â
âAlright,â he murmurs, unlacing his hand from the strands of your hair before toeing his boots off and carefully setting them under the chair next to the front door. âYou want company?â
You swallow. Youâve never done anything like that before. Itâs always been quick. When you do this with him, you hardly ever have time for a chat before heâs got your shirt over your head and his mouth on your skin.
âSure,â you reply. You feel him watch as you turn around and pull your shirt off, reaching back to unclasp your bra. The modesty feels redundant, but you canât help it.
âNot gettinâ shy on me now, are you? Sânot like I havenât seen you naked before,â he chuckles, and you throw a look at him over your shoulder just as heâs pulling his own shirt over his head. He left his hat at the bar, you think. Youâll have to go back in for it when you pick up the truck.
âTyler,â you scold, and he laughs at you, steps across the room to wrap an arm around your torso and press a kiss to where your neck meets your shoulder. The place he knows makes you melt. You sigh and push back against him, the feeling of his hard chest against your bare back a welcome one. This feels more like what you know, what youâre used to.
âShower,â you remind him, and he nods, his forehead pressed into that spot now, and he pushes his fingers underneath the waistband of your jeans, running them along the bit of skin there around to the front, where the fabric splits at the button. He pops it undone, then uses his thumb and forefinger to grip the zipper and slowly â so slowly â pulls that down. He canât help himself, you know that, and so you hold your breath and wait for him to push his hand into your panties. Ever a predictable man, he does just that, and you gasp at the feeling of his warm hand against you.
âAre you sure?â Tylerâs breath against your neck makes you shiver, and you press your ear to the side of his chin. He runs his fingers along the seam of you, finding first your clit, your legs twitching at the sudden rush of pleasure when he brushes his hand against it, then pushing down to find you wet and wanting. You cry out softly. âYou donât sound sure. You donât feel sure.â
You hum, your neck stretching back until your head is pressed to his chest, and he pulls his hand back up to start working small circles on your clit, your wetness on his fingers allowing for smooth movement, with just enough friction to have you panting for more.Â
âSounds more to me like you kinda want me to fuck you with my fingers.â
âTyler,â you whimper, telling him with just his name that you are getting close. He smiles against the side of your neck, pulling his hand away and shoving your jeans and underwear down just enough that his hand has room to smack your clit lightly. You squeal, right leg kicking out at the feeling, and he continues moving his hand in circles to soothe the hurt.
Your breath is coming out of you in short huffs, and before you can come, Tyler takes his hand off of you and wraps it around your stomach to join the other. You pant and whine, rubbing your thighs together to chase the feeling heâd had you practically pressed up against, now ebbing with the loss of his fingers.
âYou said you wanted to shower,â he whispers in your ear, pulling your panties back up, and you scowl, pushing away from him. He laughs and holds his hands up in defense as you pick your t-shirt up off your bed and crack it at him like a whip. âLetâs shower, baby.â
âI might kick you out right now, Owens,â you snark, but the small smile on your face gives you away, and Tyler unbuttons his own jeans, leaving them in a pile on the floor at the end of the bed. Your jeans join his, and youâre both left in your underwear.
âYou wouldnât,â he replies, pulling his briefs off slowly, biting his bottom lip as you watch him. âYou like this cock too much.â
You canât help laughing at him, but the sight of him bare in front of you does have you biting your lip. You step forward to cup his growing length in your hand. Before you can move it, Tyler puts a hand on your wrist.
âHowâs your hand?â He makes to pull it away, presumably to turn it over and appraise your blisters, but you shake your head.
âSâfine,â you whisper, tightening your grip. You tug once, twice, and press a kiss to his bare chest, then tip your head back to search out his lips. He leans down to oblige you, his lips parting against your mouth as you twist your fist. You love these moments you share with him, when youâre both bare, physically, emotionally, away from the real world, and you can pretend this is an everyday thing. When youâre not trying to tell yourself you feel nothing for him. Like this is just how it is between you.
Tyler groans when you pull your hand away from him and you click your tongue, press that same hand against his bicep.
âDoesnât feel so good, now does it?â
Before you even know whatâs happening, Tyler is picking you up, one arm underneath your back and the other around the backs of your knees. You look up at his face and laugh. âPut me down, Owens!â
He grins and carries you the few paces into the bathroom, placing you on your feet in front of the tub. Tyler leans down and pushes his thumbs underneath the waistband of your panties, waiting for you to put your hands on his shoulders and step out of them.
He lets you pull away from him to turn the hot water on, adjusting the cold side until the temperature is perfect, before pulling you against his chest once again. This time, you can feel his hard cock pressed against your backside, and you hum appraisingly. You reach behind you to fist him again, but he shakes his head â you feel his chin brush against the top of your head â and he groans out, âMm-mm.â
âWhat?â
âWeâre gonna shower, baby, câmon.â
You glance back towards him and watch as he flicks the overhead light on. âSo we donât slip and die,â he says, and you laugh, pushing the shower curtain to the side. Holding Tylerâs hand, you step over the lip of the tub and under the steady stream of warm water, inhaling deeply when it hits the sore muscles in your shoulders and back. Tyler groans at the feeling, too, when he steps in behind you.
âHere, switch with me,â he murmurs, guiding you by your waist until youâre the one underneath the water. You let it fall onto the top of your head, over your face and down the back of your hair, for a moment, eyes closed, relishing the feeling. Tyler reaches both hands up and brushes the water out of your eyes, runs his hand over the top of your head.Â
âShampoo?â
You open one eye, the other shut against the water, and nod. You gaze up at him, heart squeezing at the way heâs watching you. His smile widens and he takes the tiny bottle in his hand â it looks even more comically small now â and dumps the product into his other palm, setting the bottle down onto the edge of the tub and rubbing his hands together.
âTurn around.â
You do as he asks, inhaling sharply through your nose when you feel his hands run through the hair at the crown of your head. Your stomach aches with longing as you register how unnaturally intimate this is. His fingers feel so good against your scalp, which is slightly sunburnt, youâre now realizing. He massages the shampoo further into your hair, running his fingers down the back of your neck and across the tops of your shoulders. When heâs satisfied with his shampoo job, he steers you by your arms to face him again, then carefully helps you tilt your head back and rinses it all from your hair.
You watch him pick up the other small bottle from the shelf, warm water still running down the back of your head.Â
âIâll do my conditioner,â you murmur, taking the bottle gently from his hands. âItâs a â itâs a science.â
âI am very good at science, if you can recall.â
You laugh, shaking your head. âItâs something Iâve gotten perfectly right. Itâll take just a sec.â
So you work the conditioner through the ends of your hair, avoiding his gaze as he watches your hands first coat your hair in the product, then rinse it out. He reaches forward to run his own fingers across it, as gently as he can.
âHm,â he makes the noise in the back of his throat, pulling his hand away. âSoft.â
You can hardly look at him, the twisting feeling in your stomach shifting to something warmer, something further from apprehension, something that feels a lot like want. âYou?â
Tyler shakes his head. âIâm good. Here,â he says, rubbing his hands across the plane of your upper back. âYouâre tense. You worked hard today. Let me help.â
You werenât going to protest, but before you can, Tyler guides you forward and out of the direct spray of the shower, then presses his thumbs into your muscle. You groan, your head falling forward onto his chest at the feeling, and he chuckles at you, continuing with his hands. âFeel good?â
âSo good,â you whimper, and you feel his cock twitch against your stomach.
âYou fucking dog,â you joke, and Tyler laughs against you, pushing your hair off the back of your neck and pressing his thumbs in there, too.
âHey, what can I say? I like making my girl feel good.â
You freeze. His girl? His girl. He hasnât noticed your reaction, and he keeps pressing his fingers into your sore muscles, pulling one hand away briefly to push the showerhead down and away from the two of you. You glance up, already missing its warmth, but you find that the steam rising around you is doing a good enough job at that.
âHere, baby,â he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and guiding you to press your hands against the tiled wall to your left, running his hands down your back.
âWhat are you ââ
Before you can finish the thought, you feel Tylerâs fingers parting the seam of your cunt from â from behind, and you groan at the feeling of his middle finger slipping inside of you.
âThatâs it, sweetheart,â he groans, his knees hitting the floor behind you. You toss a glance at him over your shoulder and your own knees nearly buckle at the way heâs looking up at you â with hunger, and with reverence, and with something else entirely unrecognizable. He looks wild. He looks in love.
One of Tylerâs hands clamps down around your hips and he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh as his finger starts to shift in and out of you. You shiver and push your face into the cool tile, groaning softly when he finds that rough bit of flesh inside of you, the one that makes you come undone if he works it long enough.
âYeah?â Tyler sounds fucked out already, his voice breathy against your skin, and you can picture the look on his face, the concentrated expression he gets when heâs trying to make you come. You try to focus on the feeling of the showerâs spray where it hits the edge of your foot rather than how good his finger feels inside you because if you think too closely about how good it feels, youâll get lightheaded. And nobody wants that.
âYeah,â you reply weakly, and for a few minutes itâs just like that, the only sound in the bathroom the shower, your panting moans, and the noise your pussy makes as he pulls his finger in and out.
âSound so good for me, baby,â he says, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh again, and you whine, trying to protest when he slips his finger from you. He laughs deep in his chest and lightly smacks the swell of your ass.
âDonât complain when Iâm doinâ somethinâ nice for you,â he jok, and you can feel then that heâs shifting himself around. You want to look over your shoulder, want to see for yourself what heâs doing, but freeze when you feel his palms cupping your ass, his nose pressing against the inside of your thighs.
Your mouth forms the word oh, but no sound comes out until you feel his mouth press against your cunt, tongue pushing inside of you, and then you cry out, chest heaving, when he presses a sloppy, wet kiss to your clit. You pull your face from where itâs still resting against the tile and look down at Tyler to find heâs already looking right up at you. His grip on your ass tightens when you make eye contact with him, and he spreads you open wider for him, eyes narrowing as his tongue flicks again, and again, and again.
âThatâs it, sweetheart,â he moans against you, the vibrations causing your legs to twitch. You already thought you were going to burst, the steam from the shower, the way heâd washed your hair, the fact that he was in your room at all â it all made you feel slightly insane. To add insult to injury, heâs just pushed two fingers inside of you and immediately found the spot that takes you out, and you start to shake a little.
âTyler,â you whine, pushing one hand down to grip his hair. He groans when you tighten your hold on it, fucking into you a little faster. âTyler, fuck, gonna come.â
âSo come, baby,â comes his reply, and you do, you come so hard that the toes on your right foot curl until youâre on tiptoe and Tyler has to reach up and grip your waist to steady you. You feel it crest, and peak, then subside, but he keeps working you through it, his mouth moving against you still, and a second, smaller â though still good â orgasm wracks your body right after the first.
You breathe through it, push your foot down so youâre standing flat on the surface of the tub again, and wait for Tyler to pull his fingers out of you.Â
âBaby,â Tyler groans, squeezing your hips, his fingernails biting slightly into your skin. âYou gotta let goâa me, if you want me to get up.â
His voice, fuck, his voice, you think, releasing your grip on his hair and turning to watch him rise from his knees, the tile cold against your back. You surge forward to kiss him square on the mouth and he catches you, smiles against you when you part your lips to taste yourself on his tongue.
âWas that good?â
âYeah,â you breathe, pressing one, two, three more quick kisses to his mouth, before he reaches behind you to turn off the water. âSo fucking good.â
Neither of you bother with a towel, instead opting to stumble toward the queen bed in the middle of the room and climb right underneath the covers.
âHi,â you whisper when youâre settled in, the duvet pulled up under your chin. Your eyes rove over his face, then glance over to the alarm clock behind him. 1:56 in the morning. âYou still wanna fuck?â
Tyler snorts, reaching over to poke you in the side, gripping the skin there until you start to laugh. âYou still wanna fuck?â
âYeah,â you reply, grinning, when you catch your breath. âWanna?â
Heâs quiet for a second, watching the duvet rise and fall with each breath you take, before he peels it off of you, using his elbow to push himself up until heâs leaning over you. Thereâs a rosy flush on your chest, your breasts heaving and itâs all he can do not to lean down and take one of your nipples in his mouth, the one closest to him. Instead, he runs the back of his other hand across your chest, catching against the hard peak, and watches your breath stick to the inside of your throat. You feel yourself subconsciously leaning toward him as his face comes toward you. You want him to kiss you, but instead, he angles his mouth to kiss the skin below your chin.
âYouâre so beautiful,â he breathes against your neck, pressing his open mouth to you there, and you gasp at the feeling â of his mouth against you, and of his praise. It all feels so nice. He just made you come in the shower, and now heâs going to make you come in this bed, hopefully more than once.Â
You wrap your hands around his back and pull him toward you, watch as he settles in between your thighs. You can feel his thick cock, heavy, insistent, where it presses against you, and you want to take him into your hands, but he has other plans.Â
With one hand pressed into the pillow on either side of your head, Tyler uses his knees to knock your legs out further, sitting back against his heels when heâs satisfied. He wraps his big hands around your thighs and pulls you closer, smiling down at you. âYouâre so beautiful.â
You blush when he repeats himself, suddenly feeling very bare. Heâs just as naked as you are, but you canât help but feel like heâs seen your whole hand, meanwhile you hardly have any idea what cards he might hold. In the dim light from the lamp beside your head, you notice that you can see the green of his irises again. It seems like the shower sobered the two of you up very quickly.
His gaze locked on yours, Tyler takes himself into his hand, groaning at the pressure of his grip after neglecting his own want for so long, but he suddenly curses, pausing just as heâs about to press inside of you.
âWhat?â
âI donât have a condom,â he breathes, sitting back again. He runs one hand through his hair, visibly weighing the options.
âItâs okay, Tyler,â you murmur, leaning up onto your elbows. âItâs okay. I have an IUD, and I got screened after the last time I was with someone. Iâm good. Iâm good if youâre good.â
Tyler heaves a heavy sigh, running his hands up your thighs. âYouâre sure? Iâm clean, too, cross my heart. But only if youâre sure.â
You nod. âMy head is clear. I think I shook off my drunk an orgasm or two ago.â
A grin crosses his face, and you roll your eyes at him before he even opens his mouth. Two? he mouths, then whistles lowly. You smack his stomach, and he grabs your wrist in his hand, lightning quick, pressing a kiss to the pulse point there. Your jaw falls slack, and you go all soft and pliant, letting him pin your hands above your head. His body comes down over yours, and his mouth presses to your cheek, then your forehead, and when your eyes flutter shut, the ghost of a kiss crosses them, too.
âIâm gonna fuck you so good,â he murmurs, and normally if a man were to say that to you, you would immediately regret letting him into your bed. But for some reason, when Tyler says it, it sends that familiar warmth spiraling down into your gut. You know he means it.
Slowly â too slowly â he guides himself back to your entrance, shifting his hips so theyâre resting comfortably against yours, and he presses himself inside of you. You hiss; the girth of him, although a welcome stretch, is also a bit of an uncomfortable one. He leans down to kiss you, working you through it with a thumb pressing circles into your clit, sliding himself in bit by bit until heâs fully seated.Â
A groan pushes out of him when you clench around him, testing the waters.
âCareful,â he murmurs, easing his hips back. âIâd like it if this lasted longer than ten seconds, please.â
You laugh against the side of his head, pull your hands down from where heâd left them above you and wrap yourself around his shoulders, pulling him flush against you. Tyler grips your thighs and starts to work himself in and out of you, carefully, gently, but you squeeze his waist with your knees. Encouraging him. Asking him to pick it up. You can handle it.
His hips start to pull back and snap against yours quicker and quicker, Tyler panting in your ear, lifting up onto his palms and pushing himself off of you. He sits up onto his knees and tilts your hips up for a different angle, one that sets sparks dancing in front of your eyes. You groan, head tossed back, and dig your nails into his thighs as his pace picks up.
âFuck, yeah, that it, baby? I can feel you â fuck, feel you squeezinâ me.â
You hardly have a voice with the rate heâs slipping in and out of you, barely enough to squeak out, âFuck,â before your cunt has him in a vice grip, working through another orgasm.
âOhhh, thatâs it, huh, thatâs it.â His mouth is going a mile a minute, neither of you really paying much attention to anything heâs actually saying. Youâre both focused on his own mounting orgasm â you donât feel like your body is capable of much more than that â and you weakly clamp down around him once more. His eyes squeeze shut, his hips stutter, and he grits out, âFuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck,â before he slots against you and you feel him filling you. You run a hand down his back, soothing him as he comes, biting your lip at the feeling, foreign but enjoyable.
Tyler groans and glances down to where his cock is softening inside of you. He eases his hips back, cupping your face and pressing a kiss to your forehead as he does. âShit, Iâm sorry, are you okay?â
You nod meagerly, pressing the back of your hand against your warm cheek. He watches you and, assured that youâre not going to pass out on him or anything, stands and hobbles into the bathroom. The sink turns on out of sight, and you close your eyes, listening to the water run. Tyler returns with a warm, wet towel and wipes the inside of your thighs, swiping gently across your cunt, before folding the towel and letting it fall to the floor at your bedside.
You feel loose, calm. Safe. You hardly notice him turn the light off, but you do feel the bed dip beside you as he rejoins you under the covers and pulls you into his arms. You melt against his sturdy chest, his heartbeat under your face a comfort, the rhythmic tick tick tick of it lulling you to sleep. But thereâs still one thing you have to know before you can relax completely.
His breathing has started to even out, but he hasnât snored yet, so you know heâll still hear you when you ask, âAre you gonna leave?â
He grunts an acknowledgement of your question, nuzzling down into the top of your head.
âDo you want me to stay?â
You know your answer, but you still bite your lip, considering the question. You hadnât thought before that maybe he left after every night you spent together because he thought you didnât want to wake up with him. âYes.â
âOkay,â he murmurs against your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. âThen Iâll stay.â
If heâs at all worried about what will happen when you wake up tomorrow, he doesnât show it, but anxiety courses through you at the thought of anyone finding out. Does he want the others to know? Because thatâs what it feels like.
âStop thinking about it,â he whispers, like he can hear your thoughts racing. âItâll be fine. Just go to sleep.â
Easy for him to say. Heâs out like a light. And youâre left alone with your thoughts until you fall into fitful, dissatisfying sleep sometime around when the world outside starts to turn blue.
A pounding on your door wakes you from deep sleep â the deepest youâd gotten all night, at least â and you try to sit up but find thereâs a heavy weight on your chest blocking you. You rub the sleep from your eyes, glancing down at the sleeping body next to you. It takes a second for it to register: Tylerâs here.Â
Tylerâs here. Sidled up against you, arm thrown over your stomach like this is where he belongs. He didnât leave. He stayed, like he said he would. His face looks so peaceful â so beautiful â you almost hate to wake him.
âCome on, sleepyhead! Time to get a move on!â
Almost. You scramble to push Tyler off of you, ignoring his noises of protest, jumping out from under the covers and grabbing various articles of clothing off the floor to pull over your naked form. You plop back down on the bed, this time on his side, right next to where heâs starting to wake.
âDude, get up, theyâre gonna know youâre not in your room. Theyâre gonna know youâre in here.â
âSo what,â he grumbles, rolling over as you push him and settling deeper into the bed. âLet âem.â
You sit up straight, one hand on his arm. âYou mean that?â
He hums and turns his neck to glance at you over his shoulder. âYeah, âcourse I do. Youâre my girl.â
Your face flushes a deep pink and Tyler grins, reaching over to wrap an arm around you and drag you back down into the bed, pinning you under him and peppering an assault of open-mouthed kisses all over your face. You grin, thinking that you could get used to this â just not right now.
âSeriously, Tyler,â you laugh, pushing a hand against the side of his face. He squeezes your hip. âWe have to get up. We gotta get back out there.â
Tyler sighs, loosening his grip on your body and kneeling over you. âYeah, youâre right. Alright, alright.â
He stands and takes the top sheet with him, wrapped around his waist, and heads to the bathroom. To brush his teeth, you hope. God.
âYou know,â he says, head popping back out into the room, mouth full of toothpaste. âYesterday. I wanted them to see us holding hands.â
You watch as he smiles at you and disappears back into the bathroom, then fall back onto the bed, hands pressed over your eyes.Â
Fifteen minutes later, the two of you are dressed, teeth brushed, hair taken care of, day packs slung over your shoulder, and youâre pulling the door closed behind you when you hear a whistle that pulls your attention to the parking lot.
âDamn, Owens!â
The voice makes you jump, and you groan. You thought you were going to get away with the sneaking around, but the rest of your team is watching from next to the RV as the two of you descend the stairs together.
Lily and Dani turn to Boone with smug looks on both their faces, and he rolls his eyes and pulls his wallet from his back pocket. They hold their hands out for him to slap two twenty dollar bills down into.
âWhatâs that?â You ask when you get close enough to them.
âWe had a bet that you and Owens would come out of that room together. Well, that one or his. Didnât matter which.â
âA bet I just lost,â Boone groans, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. âI thought for sureâŠâ
The rest of the crew snickers, including Tyler, who wonât look at you. You poke a finger into his chest.
âDid you know about this?â
âNo, I swear,â he says, hands up, and you donât know why, but you believe him. âThat doesnât mean I didnât drunkenly confess to Lily weeks ago that sometimes we, you knowâŠâ
You scoff, almost mad, but then Boone shouts and the scoff turns into a snicker because, hey, you love him, but you canât help but relish in his defeat.
âSo they knew?! Thatâs cheating!â
He storms off while the rest of you laugh, Dani clutching their side and following him around the side of the building to try to make amends, trailing off, âIf it makes you feel any betterâŠâ
Lily looks over at you, then at Tyler, a grin swallowing her face. âSo, are you guys, like, together now? Or something?â
You look up at Tyler, whoâs smiling softly at you, clearly deferring to you to answer that question. You feel a surge of affection for him swell in your chest. Clearing your throat, you turn to Lily.
âOr something.â
#twisters#twisters 2024#twisters movie#glen powell#tyler owens#tyler owens x reader#tyler owens smut#glen powell x reader#glen powell smut#as a former tyler dater this was soooo triggering for me to write#JFNLKQJBNF
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simplicity
out there they're afraid even of the killer's shadow, and here i reside in his heartbeat like a home
or; the big bad red hood has a soft spot only for you [3.4k]
jason todd x fem!reader; tiny bit of angst but mostly fluff; aggressive unwanted advances, implied roofie attempt, violence & blood, slut-shaming; Jason âmy girl can wear whatever she wants I can fightâ Todd; in da clerb, we all fam ⯠based on this !
A humid, crowded, upscale club isnât the most ideal way to spend your Friday night, and Jason knows this. Frankly, itâs not his either, but as the owner of the humid, crowded, upscale club, he had to make some appearances as his own business.
âItâs a night out,â he had said. âLetâs make the most of it.â
If youâre being honest, itâs also not the worst way to spend your Friday night. Not when Jason dressed up so deliciously, in a fitted t-shirt, jeans, and his leather jacket. Not when he took you to a booth in the corner of the club and had them bring over your favorite drinks and snacks with the order to keep them coming. Not when you got to wear that cute little black dress thatâs been hanging in your closet for months with your favorite strappy heels, the ones with ribbons that wrapped around your ankle and tied into a bow in the back. Not when Jason sat you on his lap and settled a large hand on your thigh, where it stayed the whole night.
All in all, you would say youâre making the most of it.Â
Youâre sipping on your drink, chatting about something or the other with your boyfriend. Heâs half listening, half drawing circles on your thigh and pressing kisses to your shoulder when one of the employees finds you. Sheâs freaking out because one of the performers hasnât shown up, and thereâs no one else to go in her place.
Jason huffs. He lifts you off his lap and sets you down on the seat. âIâm sorry, baby, I just gotta take care of this. Iâll be right back.â
âItâs okay. Iâll be here.â You smile over the rim of your glass.
He looks around for a moment, then gestures to someone across the room. One of the bouncers make their way to you.
âJust keep an eye out,â he tells him. âI donât trust these entitled country club fuckers.â
He gives a curt nod. Jason leans in close, smirking, and says, âespecially not when you look like that,â and gives you a quick kiss before disappearing into the crowd with the employee.
A couple minutes later, a crash snaps your attention towards the bar. A young, college-aged looking man is berating a waitress while a mess of shot glasses litter the floor around them. The waitress looks about to cry.
âJesus Christ,â the bouncer says to himself. Then to you, âGimme a second.â
You move to the edge of the booth to watch as he goes over and tries to pacify the man, but that only seems to make him angrier. He shoves the bouncer, yelling about âshitty customer service.âÂ
You donât get to see what happens next, though, because your field of vision is obscured by an enormous, very shiny, and very douchey silver belt buckle. You look up for its owner, and a greasy-looking, white-haired man looks down at you.Â
âHey there, sweetheart.â A fake gold tooth catches the flashing lights and it glints in your eye. Uninvited, he slides into the booth across from you. He places a drink on the table, sliding it towards you. âYou look thirsty. Got this for you.â
âNo, thanks. Iâve got one.â You hold your own glass up.
He rolls his eyes. âPretty thing like you should be takinâ advantage of all the free drinks you could be gettinâ.â His smile sends a chill down your spine.
âAgain, Iâm fine,â you say, a little harsher. âMy boyfriend has brought me plenty of drinks already.â
He laughs. Itâs a high-pitched, scratchy, wheezing sound. Like a kazoo. âI donât see this boyfriend of yours anywhere. He should know better than to leave you alone. Iâd treat you much better than him.â His eyes travel down your neck and stay there. You stand from the booth and take a big step back. Itâs not entirely personal; no matter how much of a threat he may be, Jason is a worse one. And if heâs still in this neighborhood, never mind this building, you fear for this manâs safety much more than your own. But the man follows, bringing the cup with him. âCome on, honey, itâs a compliment. Show a little thanks. I donât bite.â
You donât have to be the worldâs finest detective to know that is most definitely a lie. Or to know to avoid that cup at all costs.
You could just rebuff him, walk away. But youâre willing to bet heâd just move on to the next woman. One whoâs probably a little less sober, and a little less aware of her surroundings. You feign a stumble and knock the drink out of his grip. It tips toward him, drenching him with its contents. He chokes out a shocked gasp.
âOops,â you deadpan, not at all trying to hide your indifference.
âYou bitch,â he snarls. He lunges forward, snatching your wrist. You try to pull it back, but his grip is iron and bruising. âI was doing you a favor. Do you see anyone else here looking at you?â
Youâre suddenly grateful you didnât put up much of a fight after Jason came home from patrolling one night insisting he show you some self-defense moves. Far be it from you to cause a scene, but this guy isnât giving you much choice. You employ the cardinal rule of womenâs self-defense: go for the crotch. You shift your weight to your non-dominant side and launch your dominant knee right into his groin. The sharp metal edge of his belt buckle slices the skin just above your knee, but it shocks him enough to release your wrist and double over. The same leg used in your attack plants itself on the ground, and you use the momentum to pistol your opposite fist forward. It collides with his nose in a bone-cracking cross. Your stacks of studded rings didnât do him any favors, either. He cries out in pain. His hands fly up to cover his nose, and the cup falls from his grasp and shatters on the floor, garnering the attention of some surrounding patrons. Blood seeps between his fingers.
âYouâre gonna fucking pay for that.â His tone drips with poison. He reaches into his coat pocket and brandishes a switchblade (because of course. Youâre not surprised, though. It is Gotham). You look around in a panic, hoping to find Jason towering somewhere over the crowd. Heâs not there. A few guys who work for him, though, have since taken notice of the commotion and are making their way towards you. You know they wonât make it in time. You werenât scared a moment ago, but you definitely are now. Jason only briefly covered disarming techniques, and you didnât have his practice to stay calm in situations like these. He steps closer, shoes crunching over the glass shards, and you step back. Youâre backed into a corner, literally. Your back is pressed against the table. His eyes are glassy and void of color.
There is a resounding pop when the manâs knife-wielding hand is yanked to the side. Too fast for your brain to register, he thuds against the table next to you and the knife clatters to the ground. You look over and see Jason, one hand pressing his face into the table and the other twisting the manâs arm behind his back.Â
When his men finally reach you, Jason is seething. They look almost as afraid as the man, whose whimpers are muffled the pressure with which heâs flattened against the table.
âWho the fuck let this happen,â Jason glowers. Uncomfortable glances are shared between the men, all sharing the same sentiment; we fucked up big time.
Jasonâs livid gaze flits back and forth among them. His veins flex against his forearms, rippling with effort. It looks like heâs putting all his strength into incapacitating the man, but you know better. Heâs putting all his strength into restraint. The look on his face is cold and steely, with hardened, venom-green eyes and a clenched jaw. This isnât Jason, the sweet boyfriend, or Jason the easy-going yet respected club proprietor. This is Jason the crime lord. Jason the anti-hero. This is the Red Hood. Who makes his own rules and kills anyone who breaks them. Itâs a bit off-putting for you to see him like this; heâs never like this with you. Heâs always justâŠJason. Your Jason.
One of his men speaks up. âWeâre sorry, Boss, we were keepinâ an eye like you asked, but there was trouble up at the bar.â
Jason scowls. âTrouble that required all of you?â
At their silence, he rolls his eyes. âIdiots,â he says under his breath. He jerks the man up to stand, the hand that was pressing him to the table now gripping the back of his shirt collar. âSomeone take care of this.â He shoves the man in their direction. Hard. One of them catches him. âAnd for fuckâs sake, check him for anything else.âÂ
While theyâre busy patting him down, Jason turns back to you. You get whiplash from how quick his demeanor changes. Though still tense, the rigidity of his expression is long gone, replaced with tender concern.
âAre you okay?â His wide eyes scan you up and down, searching for any signs of injury. You manage a nod, still a bit stunned by his apparent shape-shifting abilities. âIâm so sorry, honey, this is my fault. Itâs my fault for leaving you alone.â He pulls you close for a hug and kisses the top of your head, murmuring further apologies into your hair.
You pull back and cup his face in your hands. âItâs okay, Jay, Iâm fine. I promise.â You lean in to kiss him, and feel his shoulders relax.
âJesus, man, sorry! Wouldnâtâa come on so strong if I knew she was your whore. How much did âya pay for her, anyway?â His voice rings from behind. Jason tenses up again. When he pulls back from you, heâs gone. Heâs like Jekyll-turned-Hyde when the combatant that lay dormant inside him reassumes his body.
He turns around, but his large frame shields you from seeing the scene unfold. You place a hand on his arm, a silent message of support, and you can feel him vibrating with anger. His hand comes to rest over yours and give a reassuring squeeze.
âYou know what?â You canât be sure who heâs speaking to, but you can hear the eerie smile in his tone. âIâll take care of this.â He faces you. âCan you give me a minute? Is that okay?â His voice is calm.
You know he would stay if you asked him to. And you never would, but you know he would go outside and kill that guy if you asked him to. And maybe youâre feeling a tad vindictive after the whole ordeal, so you just say, âOkay.â
He kisses your forehead, squeezing your hand once more. âIâll come find you,â he says, stepping away, and you nod.
âRoss,â he commands. âTake her to the office. Get her whatever she wants.â Jason then speaks to all of his men. His tone drips with disdain. âTomorrow weâll talk about whoâs getting fired for this.â You catch some of his men flinch.
He grabs the man by the collar once again and stalks towards the exit, dragging him along.
Youâve met Ross once or twice, though never exchanged more than a few words. He smiles at you. Itâs amiable, if not slightly nervous. You know where the office is, but youâre still grateful for the guide. The mesh of moving bodies under dim lights makes all four corners of the room look the same. With the adrenaline wearing off, your hands ache and you become acutely aware of the stinging shock that shoots up your knee when you walk on it but, persevering, you follow him to the back. He holds the door that reads âRESTRICTED - DO NOT ENTERâ open for you, and you smile in thanks.
Various employees, servers and performers alike, mill about in the back hallways. You know some of them, having met in passing during other visits to the club, and offer polite greetings as you walk by. When you arrive at Jasonâs office, Ross unlocks the door for you and you step inside.
Itâs a nice office, noticeably homier than it was when you and Jason met. The first time he brought you back here it was just a desk, a chair, and a filing cabinet. You perched yourself on his desk while he sat in his chair and you teased him for not having a place for guests to sit, saying something about âmen and their awful interior designing skills.â
âItâs not âbad skills,â itâs cost-effective. âM runninâ a business here, baby. If you need a place to sit that badly, you can sit right here.â He joked, patting his lap. And he said it with such conviction you believed him, but the next time you visited there was a brand new, plushy suede couch pushed against the wall.
You find a seat on said couch and try to get comfortable despite your protesting joints. From here you can spot a framed photo on Jasonâs desk; the two of you smiling while bathing a shelter dog at the Wayne Animal Sanctuary. But while you smile at the camera, his gaze is trained on you.
 Ross stands in the doorway, stoic as a bodyguard should be. âDo you need anything?â He asks you.
âNo, Iâm okay. Thank you, though.â
ââCourse. Iâll be outside. Just yell if you need anything.â He moves to exit, but pauses. âLook,â he says, âWeâre all really sorry about what happened. It was our fault. You have every right to hate us.â He chuckles self-deprecatingly. âGod knows the boss does.â
You purse your lips, unsure how to respond. Technically Jason did instruct them not to leave you alone. But really, the only person at fault is that horrible man, and he was currently getting what he deserved.
âItâs okay, Ross,â you say, and you mean it. âI donât blame you. And Jasonâs not gonna fire any of you, okay? I wonât let him.â
He exhales. âOkay, youâyeah. Okay. Thanks.â He loiters awkwardly in the doorway for a moment. âListen, Toddâs always been a great boss. But itâs no joke when it comes to you. Donât know exactly what happened, but after meeting you, heâs justâŠdifferent. Not sure if I believe it, but after the first time you were here, one of the bartenders swears they heard him whistling. Anyway, just mean to sayâŠweâre glad he has you.â
His sincerity warms your heart. You thank him, and he assumes his post outside, closing the door.Â
At last in decent lighting, you take the time to examine yourself. Your knee, knuckles, and wrist are splotchy with bruises. A small scrape rests just above your knee from you were scratched. Thereâs a splattering of blood on your knuckles and on the rings youâre wearing. You grimace, the reality of what just happened settling in. Someone pulled a knife on you. If Jason hadnât been thereâŠthe thought leaves you cold.
Thereâs voices on the other side of the door, then receding footsteps. After a few seconds, a knock.
âBaby? Can I come in?â
âYes,â you call out. Jason enters, locking the door behind him. Thereâs some smatterings of blood on his hands and face, and heâs holding a first aid kit. Your immediate instinct is that heâs the one who needs first aid.
âAre you okay?â You ask as he kneels on the floor in front of you. âDid he hurt you?â
Jason tilts his head like a confused puppy, eyebrow raised. Just like that, The Red Hood is gone. Heâs Jason again. He speaks softly, with a hint of his usual boyish charm. âShould I be insulted by you asking me that?â He picks up your un-injured leg and places the foot on his thigh, beginning to unravel the ribbon wrapped around your ankle. He removes the shoe and places it to the side, then repeats with your other foot. But when he moves it, your knee twitches and you wince. He frowns, but doesnât say anything. He sees the way your eyes travel between all the spots of blood. âDonât worry, sweetheart, none of itâs mine.â
You sigh in relief. âYou didnâtâŠkill him, did you?â
He chuckles, lightly massaging your foot. âNahâŠdid you want me to? âCause I can stillââ
âNo.â
He smirks at you, before leaning down to press a kiss to your bruised knee. Itâs so gentle, so loving, it completely contradicts the bloodstains that adorn him. As his hands move up to your calf, your hand moves to his hair, fingers threading through the white streaks and pushing them back so you can get a better view of his eyes. Theyâre a silky teal, bordering on sea green. They remind you of lake trips in the summer, and ice skating during the holidays.
âHow bad is he? Like, on scale of âhe can walk it offâ to âhe needs to go to the hospital.ââ
Jason pauses his movements, looking thoughtful for a moment.
âHeâŠheâs walking himself to the hospital.â
Thereâs not much you can say to that. After all, you gave him to okay to go fuck that guy up.
From the first aid kit, he retrieves a box of Band-Aids. Theyâre the childrenâs ones, decorated with cartoons and various characters. A specific one catches your eye, and you pick it out of the carton.
âRobin? Really?â
Jason breathes out a small laugh. âOne of my guysâ daughter loves him.â He unwraps the bandage and sticks it over the scratch. You admire the small red plaster. Jason traces a finger over the emblem in the center, a black and yellow âRâ.
He moves from your leg to your hand, gingerly laying it in his palm. One by one he slides each of your rings off. Theyâre not particularly special, but you still like them and you try to protest when he tosses them in the trash. Heâs quick to assuage you with promises to buy you new ones with, hopefully, less blood.
"Did you see how good I got him?" You suddenly feel shy asking such a question. Like a child seeking validation.
"I did see," Jason says. And there's not a hint of condescension in his tone. "I'm proud of you. You remembered what I taught you."
You beam under his pride.
He uses a sanitizing wipe to remove the droplets of blood from your knuckles, kissing each one along the way. He reaches your wrist last. Thereâs a purple hand-shaped mark that wraps around it, and he stares at it. You can see his thoughts race at sixty miles an hour, and you know heâs beating himself up about it.
âHey.â The hand in his hair moves to stroke his cheek. âItâs okay. Itâs not your fault. I promise. I love you.â
He leans forward to press his forehead to your wrist. âIâm sorry,â he breathes. âIâm sorry.â He places gentle kisses on the purple skin. âIâm sorry. I love you.â He moves to the scratch above your knee, pressing more kisses, repeating the words like a prayer. Your hand is still enclosed in his hands, and his cool fingers soothe the throbbing swell. You pull his head up, holding his chin in your fingertips. His eyes close as he soaks in your warm touch.
You reach for another wipe and begin wiping the blood from his face. Some of it has dried, so you press the wipe a little harder, and blood rushes to his cheeks to give him an adorable flush. You repeat the process on his hands. Blood erased and wipes discarded, you pull him up to the couch to lie down with you. He stretches out, so large that his feet hang over the armrest. You snuggle up to his side and your head rests on his shoulder. He wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head. Itâs surreal, how utterly soft he is, and just for you. How no one else gets to see him like this. He goes out at night, a fighter, crusader, a deadly threat. And then he comes home to sleep in your arms. In your bed.
You place your hand against his chest, right over his heart to feel it thrum beneath your palm. It beats simple and steady, and just for you.
am i the only one who likes the whole jason owning the iceberg lounge storyline (aside from the whole penguin prisoner thing but i only write according to canon that i like and leave out the things i don't! whoopsđ€·ââïž);
the feminine urge to write more fics that take place within the universe of this one...
divider is from here
#my jason todd domesticity agenda#batman#red hood#jason todd#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#jason todd x y/n#batfamily#dc universe#dc comics#dcu#dc robin#robin
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