#i had a great time doing this thank you!!

[gf2bellamy]

ramble — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: spencer reid rambling but you don't mind content warnings: ppl being bored of spencer's ramble

The bullpen was alive with the usual hum of chatter that masked the team's half-hearted attempts at paperwork. While case files sat open on their desks, the atmosphere was anything but productive. 

Derek leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed behind his head as he finished a story about a failed flirtation. “And she didn’t even recognize me,” he groaned, slumping forward dramatically. “I mean, come on. I was unforgettable.” 

Penelope didn’t miss a beat, rolling her eyes and waving a hand in mock exasperation. “Oh, poor Derek. How ever will your ego survive such a tragedy?” 

You laughed at their exchange, shaking your head at Derek’s overly dramatic retelling. Across the bullpen, Spencer sat at his desk, directly in front of yours. He glanced up from his file, his fingers tapping absentmindedly on the desk. 

“Did you know,” Spencer began, his voice cutting through the banter, “that statistically speaking, people are more likely to remember faces than names? It’s due to the fusiform face area in the brain, which is specifically attuned to facial recognition. The process of encoding a face involves—” 

As Spencer launched into his explanation, you turned your full attention to him, your curiosity piqued. You watched the way his hands moved as he spoke, punctuating his words with small, precise gestures. 

Before you could ask him to elaborate, Derek cut in with a grin. “Thanks for the fun fact, pretty boy, but I think I zoned out halfway through that one.” 

Garcia, always quick to follow suit, added with a teasing smile, “Spence, we love you, but you’ve gotta learn to cut your TED Talks into soundbites.” 

The teasing was lighthearted, but Spencer’s shoulders slumped slightly as he glanced back down at his papers. He muttered a soft “sorry” before awkwardly adjusting his pen. 

You glanced between Derek and Garcia, who had already resumed their playful bickering, and felt a pang of frustration. 

“Spence,” you said gently, calling his attention. 

He lifted his head, his hazel eyes meeting yours with a hesitant curiosity. “Yeah?” 

You gave him a warm smile, leaning forward slightly. “I was actually going to ask you something about what you just said. How does the brain distinguish between similar faces? Like, how does it know to pick out subtle differences?” 

His expression lit up, the hesitation melting away as he straightened in his seat. “Oh! That’s a great question. It has to do with the way our brains process fine details, like the spacing between eyes or the curve of someone’s lips and—” 

As Spencer explained, his voice grew more confident, and the enthusiasm in his tone was infectious. You nodded along, genuinely fascinated, occasionally asking follow-up questions to keep him going. 

Derek, noticing the exchange, leaned over to Garcia with a raised brow. “Looks like someone actually appreciates the genius over there.” 

Garcia smirked, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “About time someone did.” 

Unaware of their comments, Spencer finished his explanation, a small, proud smile tugging at his lips. “Does that make sense?” he asked, his gaze searching yours. 

“Completely,” you replied with a grin. “Thanks for explaining.” 

For a moment, Spencer just looked at you, his face softening. “You’re welcome,” he said, his voice quieter now but filled with a kind of gratitude that was hard to miss. 

[crushpunky]

actress!reader attends the golden globes (with a special accessory)

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

based off of this ask + tom/zendaya’s engagement :)

With a final deep breath, y/n stepped out onto the red carpet of the Golden Globes. Bulbs flashed and fans screamed as she walked out, grinning and waving to onlookers, her golden gown popping against the floral backdrop. It wasn’t her first time attending, however, it was her first time attending an event with a certain accessory donning her finger… her ring finger.

Y/n posed, flaunting her perfectly practiced smile along with a toss of her hair before resting her hands on the front of her gown. Her fingers splayed out, flashing the glittering diamond Drew had given her nearly a month ago. Initially she’d been hesitant to wear it on the carpet, unsure if she should come out so soon with it or without Drew, who was unable to attend due to prior scheduling obligations. As she floated along the red carpet, she could hear litters of whispers and pointing from fans, which caused a mischievous smirk to spread across her perfectly lined lips.

“Y/n, looking stunning today!�� An interviewer waved her over, an excited grin on their face. 

“Thank you so much! You’re looking beautiful as well.” Y/n smiled.

“So, would you mind giving us some more info about your outfit? It’s absolutely gorgeous!” The interviewer said, gesturing to her dress and array of diamond accessories.

“Thank you, thank you.” Y/n chuckled, smoothing down the front of her satin gown. “Well, it is the Golden Globes, so why not gold, right? But in all seriousness, my stylists did an amazing job and I cannot thank them enough for all their help.”

“Of course, nothing but love for all the stylists tonight.” The interviewer laughed. “Y/n, I do have to ask you a question because everyone has been talking about it since you stepped out here on the carpet today.”

“Oh no, now I’m scared.” Y/n bit her bottom lip, already having an idea of what the question might be.

“Your ring… is this an announcement?” The interviewer asked with a quirk of her brow. Y/n laughed, subtly looking down at the large ring on her finger.

“Hmm, I guess I don’t know what you’re referring to.” Y/n shrugged, a cheeky grin on her face.

“Are you and Drew engaged?” The interviewer asked, gesturing to y/n’s ring.

“That’s a good question.” Y/n said simply, a wide smile remaining on her face as she stood in silence for a moment, the interviewer waiting for an answer before the two of them started to laugh.

“Oh, I think my publicist is calling me!” Y/n said, pointing back towards the entrance to the venue, her publicist nowhere to be seen. “It was great to chat, have a good night!”

The show went on smoothly, y/n watching each of the segments from her seat, mindful of the various phones she saw focused in her direction each commercial break. Her table was filled with fellow actors, including Drew’s nominated “Queer” castmates she’d gotten quite familiar with during her multiple visits to the set.

“Y/n, oh my goodness!” A voice greeted her as they cut for commercial. Y/n turned to see Ayo Edebiri waving excitedly, her usual wide smile on her face. The two of them had met at multiple Loewe events in the past, usually spending the entire event laughing and chatting.

“Oh my goodness, hello!” Y/n smiled, the two of them hugging briefly before pulling away to admire each other's outfits. Ayo wore an oversized, gray Loewe suit paired with a golden tie, an homage to Julia Roberts iconic look.

“It’s so good to see you, you look so good, girl.” Ayo said, gesturing to y/n’s gown before her eyes caught onto y/n’s glittering ring. Ayo quickly grabbed her hand, examining y/n’s finger with a quirk of her brow. Y/n said nothing, giggling at Ayo’s expression.

“Y/n…” Ayo sang quietly, an excited smile spreading across her face as y/n nodded in silent confirmation. With a squeal, Ayo pulled her into a tight hug, the two of them laughing.

“Oh my goodness, congrats!” Ayo whispered before pulling away, the lights flashing to signal the end of the commercial break.

“Thank you, it was so good to see you!” Y/n said, waving to her before finding her way back to her seat, the show continuing. Little did she know, her and Ayo’s interaction, including their admiration of her ring and their excited squeals, was caught on camera by an especially observant attendee. Like a wildfire, the video spread across the internet, only further fanning the flames of the engagement rumors.

It wasn’t until she got home to Drew, the two of them giggling as they scrolled through the internet’s reaction, did they finally decide to respond to the rumors…

tag: @anothertimegirl

[pacofprunes]

cotton candy grapes

thanos / player 230 x reader (squid game)

warnings — very short drabble, reader has pink hair, noncon kissing, biting that draws blood, choking, subtle threatening, drug use

by clicking read more you consent to reading this content and you are 18+

somehow, he hadn’t noticed you in the first game. you’d think the only other person there with dyed hair, that was pink, would immediately get his attention. but he didn’t notice until after the games when it was time to vote, you smacking that red X. he only saw your hair though, he wanted to see your face. he knew you had to be stunning.

the voting ends and he sees you on the other side sitting on your bed with your face in your hands. he gets up to go over to you.

“where are you going?”

nam-gyu his lap dog. he sits up out of his bed to see what his owners doing.

“none of your business.”

he walks away towards you, nam-gyu watching the whole time. on the way there he pops a pill in his mouth.

“hello señorita.”

you look up and he’s stunned. god you were beautiful. he whistles at you.

“what’dya say you join me and my team over there beautiful?”

he points to the other side where you see a group of people.

“uh, no thank you.”

“come on babe don’t be so difficult. you’re over here all alone, you need alliances. and i, thanos, the greatest rapper there has ever been, is a great ally.”

you pause and think. it would be nice to have allies in a shit hole like this. but then you think back to the first game. right in front of you, a whole row of people fall forward and get shot. it wasn’t from somebody tripping. no. it’s because this guy who says his name is thanos pushed them. you’re pulled out of your thoughts and look him in the eyes.

“you killed all those people.“

he looks at you with a shocked sarcastic smile.

“did i?”

“yes. yes you did. the first game, you pushed them all. no i don’t wanna fucking be on your team are you crazy?”

he puts a hand on your shoulder and pushes it back slightly before you slap his hand away.

“come on señorita, money is money! you didn’t know those people and neither did i!”

he laughs, sick. he leans forward closer to your face and then moves over to your ear.

“plus, you don’t wanna know what’ll happen if you don’t join my team and switch that X.”

he leans back and points to the red X on your chest. flicking it. you stand up and ignore him before walking away from him, going to the bathroom to avoid him. he just stares your way.

“girls who play hard to get are so fucking hot.”

he runs a hand through his hair before going back to his degenerate friend nam-gyu. telling him all about you. granted he twisted a lot of shit. claiming you wanted him so bad, but was just so intimidated by how famous he is that you didn’t want part of that spotlight, and that’s why you said no. definitely was not what you said at all though.

you come back in the room, your pink hair bouncing behind you. god it looked so soft. he should’ve ran his hand through your hair while he had the chance. lights out comes about and he just sits up on his bed, taking another pill. thinking to himself what his next action should be. what if you died tomorrow and he didn’t even get the chance to kiss you? he gets up and walks back over to your side. you were trying to go to sleep, but weren’t asleep yet. he simply just grabs your elbow and pulls you behind the bed, pressing you against the wall.

“what the hell is wrong with you?”

he looks you dead in the eye with a crazed look. and rubs his hands through your hair. so fucking soft.

“babe, you’re just so fucking beautiful, what if you die tomorrow? and i don’t get the chance to smoke with you, kiss you, fuck you…”

you give him a disgusted look before he grabs your face in both hands giving you a tight kiss. forcing his tongue in your mouth. you push at his chest with your hands before stomping on his foot and he jumps back.

“you fucking bitch.”

he goes back up to you before you get the chance to get away from him and he grips your hair between all his fingers. you wanted to scream but didn’t wanna make things worse. plus, nobody would help you in a place like this. constant killing and fighting. nobody gave a fuck about you. he takes a deep breath before he breaths it all out into your neck. he wraps his hands around your neck as a warning, rubbing his fingers in circles around it.

“you’re so beautiful, one of the prettiest women i’ve ever seen. just give a handsome guy like me a chance.”

he kisses you again, hands still around your neck, doing light little pulse squeezes every few seconds as a warning. he bites your lip this time drawing a little bit of blood, causing you to go to scream. but as soon as you do, he’s squeezing your throat as tight as he can, you can’t get any air, not even a single noise out. he continues to kiss you before pulling away and looking you in the eyes as you struggle to breathe. finally he lets go and pushes your hair behind your ear.

“i expect you change your mind tomorrow, kay babe? wouldn’t wanna hurt you even more, i really do like you.”

he takes a step back and you guys just hold eye contact and he swings his cross necklace, playing with it in his fingers before opening it.

“if you ever want some, just come to me. the pink one suits you perfectly.”

[building-made-of-paper]

Story time!

My mother loves poker. She played all throughout college and grad school and sometimes goes to poker nights with friends. Nothing crazy high stakes (though she's played with people who make a living off of it) but she does believe that if you're not betting something it's not worth playing. As you might guess, she's more than a little bit competitive.

She has always wanted my sister and I to play poker, and has taught us various different flavors of poker over the years. And in a move that I believe stems from that same desire, she has a tradition of gifting each of us a deck of cards for one of the nights of Channukah. She also snuck decks of cards into our luggage when we moved off to college. She's convinced that if poker is god, then she is the messiah and we are the chosen people.

This year, because Channukah was later than usual, both my sister and I were home to receive our deck of cards and somehow she convinced us that this meant we needed to play poker. ("It's a life skill!" "What if all your friends are starting a poker group?") What she didn't realize was that in one of the decks she had bought the two jokers were the 12 of spades and the 16 of diamonds.

We play for a bit with a couple other decks (partially so my sister can relearn a few different types of poker), and eventually I add the third deck into the mix and volunteer to prepare it between rounds. I shuffle the deck, making sure to force the cards to be near the top of the deck (one side effect of growing up with many many decks of cards is you learn some card tricks, or at least the basics.)

My mother is the dealer that round. We're all dealt cards. Nobody flinches. My sister and I know what's happening, my parents do not. We bet. I do not have great cards. I stay in because if I pull this off I want to still be in play. Out comes the flop. The opening card is the 12 of spades. The other two cards are not face cards, so after much confusion we decide that it must be a stylistic choice. We agree to play it as a queen. We bet again. I am losing money at this point, but that's okay. I'm in it for the bit, not the money.

We turn the river. It's the queen of diamonds. My parents are baffled. No reasonable person would make a stylistic choice such that one queen is a face card and the other is a 12, right? Well, given the store we got these from (which also sells a Magic Flying Butterfly, a bowl made of guitar strings, and many other oddities) the stylistic choices are likely to be confusing.

Over the course of the rest of the game we manage to reveal all four queens. And we also have the 12 of spades. At this point the pot is ruled dead and everyone gets their money back (thank goodness, I would have lost handily), and laughs are had all around. Eventually the deck was searched through and the 16 of diamonds was discovered, to everyone's great amusement.

Moral of the story? Manipulate other people wants and needs so that you can always stay committed to the bit. Or just like have fun, I guess. Yeah maybe don't do that first thing.

[hueseok]

can’t stop thinking about boyfriend!yoongi who in a way, found his match with you.

for decades, his oldest friends always teased him for being the textbook definition of ‘nonchalant’, labeling him as a stoic man who loved to pretend that he didn’t care about anything—even though in reality, there were always a few tells that made it obvious that he did.

he was the type of guy who made it seem like he didn’t care if you forgot about his birthday, but would send a joke afterwards saying that he was disappointed that you didn’t remember.

or the type who acted like it didn’t matter to him if the meal he worked hard on cooking tasted delicious for your taste buds, only to grin really wide as soon as you complimented him and uttered a string of praises afterwards.

it was an endearing quality of yoongi’s, a rather fascinating trait that also became the butt of the joke at times whenever the topic was his love life and his bad luck when it came to relationships.

“you can come off as emotionally unavailable,” hoseok told him over beer once. “ladies don’t like that. they want men who can tell them how special they are.”

“isn’t it enough that i show it?” yoongi asked, having just been dumped by the girl he was dating. “i mean, i drive her to work every single day. i fetch her from work whenever i can too. i buy her stuff if it’s necessary, like shampoo or paper towels.”

hoseok stared at him. “paper towels?”

“yeah.”

“wow. i take it all back. you are the most romantic man on the planet.”

yoongi rolled his eyes at the sarcasm. “she mentioned she was running out of them so i bought more for her.”

“are you her dad or something?”

“i heard ladies like a provider.”

“yes, but not in that sense. it’s more like… you get the bill whenever you’re having lunch or dinner at a restaurant, or buying her a bag she’s been eyeing, or paying for her nails when she gets them done. doing all of that without not being asked is the key aspect of it, really.”

“how do you know this stuff?”

hoseok shrugged. “i have an older sister,” he says. “also, i’m engaged to my girlfriend of 6 years. being in a relationship that long ought to teach you a lot.”

thanks to that conversation, yoongi began understanding what it really meant to be a great and affectionate boyfriend without sacrificing his rather reserved personality. he knew what the right gestures to do, what the right things to say, what the right gifts to buy—and he did all of that with utmost sincerity, genuinely wanting to be a better partner for his current girlfriend, which also happened to be you.

the funny thing, though?

you couldn’t seem to recognize the nice boyfriend things yoongi was doing and how much he improved compared to his last relationship.

you were just… independent, he thought. a strong woman who didn’t like to be coddled and didn’t like asking help from anyone regardless of how much you may be already struggling. he had a realization that you were naturally like this because of the stories you used to tell him that made him understand that you just weren’t used to relying on others, a trait that he didn’t have an issue with and sometimes even admired.

however, he couldn’t lie and say that it wasn’t sometimes frustrating as well.

for example, just last week, the both of you had a semi-big fight because of how you constantly insisted on changing the broken lightbulb in your bedroom yourself even though yoongi was already telling you that he could do it instead. in the end, since you were stubborn as hell, you still tried changing it on your own but had a very minor injury due to falling off the stool you were standing on for extra height.

yoongi was furious when he found out, and you ultimately became furious because it seemed like he was being unfair to you, the negative energy impacting your mood and rationality that you didn’t get how he was more mad on the fact that you let your pride get to you than just asking for his damn help for the freaking lightbulb.

when the both of you calmed down and said your apologies, yoongi took your hands and looked directly in your eyes. “babe, you have to start depending on me,” he said.

the straightforwardness caught you off guard. “huh?”

“i mean…” you felt him squeeze your fingers softly, “i understand that you’re used to doing things all on your own… how you don’t like being treated like some baby… but that shouldn’t be the case with me, okay? i’m here to take care of you, to always help you with whatever you need.”

you opened your mouth, about to say something he knew was not going to align with his point, so he took the liberty to cut you off.

“i’m serious. you know what i’m talking about. let me take care of you, ____.”

“but—” you couldn’t continue with your sentence, a wave of emotions suddenly flooding you that made your throat tighten and voice quiver as you began speaking again— “how? i… i don’t—i just… you don’t need to. i don’t want to be a burden.”

yoongi gave you a look, a mixture of fondness and disbelief. “you? a burden?”

“yeah. you don’t need to take care of me.”

“i’m well aware that you’re a grown woman who doesn’t need taking care of.” he joked. “but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to do it. that’s why if i were you, i would just start depending on my poor boyfriend and learn how to be comfortable in being taken care of because it’s definitely how things are going to be now that he’s here.”

you snorted at the use of third person. “fine,” you sniffled, “okay, i’ll try to be better at asking for help next time.”

he sighed in relief, releasing your hands to instead engulf you in a tight embrace. “thank you, baby. i appreciate it a lot.”

****

the first time you willingly asked yoongi for a favor after that talk—regardless of how small and trivial it was—it still affected him big time.

“can you help me assemble the drawer i bought?” you asked him over dinner, ever so casual and nonchalant.

he almost dropped the chopsticks he was holding. “what?”

“i said, can you—”

“no, i heard that perfectly well. i’m just surprised at what i’m hearing.”

your lips twitched while your face visibly burned. “don’t start teasing me or else—”

“i’m not.” he laughed, a little too loudly than usual, before reaching for your hand and kissing your knuckles. “i’m not, i swear. i’m just happy.”

“you’re happy because i’m asking for help?”

“i’m happy because you’re letting me take care of you,” he corrected. “it’s a bit overdue in my opinion but who am i to complain?”

you playfully shoved his hand away, which made yoongi laugh harder and lean towards you to give you a chaste kiss on the cheek, letting you know that your simple effort of trying to let him in meant so much more than words could ever say.

note. this blurb is unedited and has been in my drafts since december because it's always yoongi missing hours!!!!! but for real though, i wish yoongi is doing great and is always surrounded by good people who can give him the support he needs + remind him how loved he is :(

[mggslover]

‘spencer’s “first” time showing you his jealous/possessive side’. bau reader and spencer just started dating and are a bit reserved when it comes to showing affection in the office. a new agent starts flirting/trying to get readers attention and for the first time spencer make sure everyone knows who his girl friend is <3 thank you !!!

the first time spencer gets jealous genre: fluff word count: 965 a/n: oh how i love this prompt!! thanks for the request

Spencer Reid wasn’t big on PDA, so it didn’t surprise you when he suggested keeping your relationship under wraps once it became official. You didn’t mind much—sure, it was a little frustrating when he’d pat your hand away at the round table or create distance the morning after a particularly fun night, knowing he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of you—but in general, you were glad to keep things private. You had no problem avoiding the “no dating between coworkers” policy drama, and it gave you the opportunity to focus on the cases and enjoy Spencer’s company even more when you’d sneak off home together at the end of the day. 

So, when you found yourself chatting with the new addition to the team—Agent Owen Rogers—you didn’t expect the effect it would have on your boyfriend.

“Of course he’s taken an interest in her. That woman makes everyone fall head over heels,” Penelope half-sighed, her voice a mix of awe and envy as she watched you talk to Owen from the office window. Her words caught Spencer’s attention, and he turned to the scene, spotting you mid-conversation. He recognized the looks his colleagues were giving Owen—those same dreamy, admiring glances they'd had for Hotch’s brother whenever he visited the office.

Spencer’s posture stiffened as the understanding sank in. If he were being honest, he’d liked the new agent when they first met, but now, seeing the way Owen was smirking at you as he moved closer, that initial fondness had quickly morphed into distaste. He could still hear his colleagues gushing over the agent as he quickly got up and headed down the stairs toward you.

“So, I was thinking Italian? Do you like Italian?” Owen asked, his voice upbeat.

Before you could even open your mouth to turn him down, you felt the familiar warmth of your boyfriend’s arms wrapping around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder.

“We love Italian.”.

You stood there, completely bewildered, as your boyfriend not only inserted himself into the conversation but also made the boldest display of possessiveness, wrapping his arms around you without a second thought. It was so un-Spencer-like—especially in the office—but you weren’t about to complain, your hands instinctively resting over his arms.

“Actually, Owen—I can call you Owen, right?” He doesn’t wait for confirmation before continuing. “You know, it’s fascinating how often people pick Italian food for a first date. Objectively, it’s a terrible choice. Think about it: you’ve got these long, slippery noodles—spaghetti, for instance—that are practically designed to humiliate you. The odds of splattering marinara sauce all over yourself—or worse, your date—are alarmingly high. And then there’s the garlic. People convince themselves that a mint will magically erase it, but we both know that’s just a delusion. Why anyone still thinks it’s a good idea is beyond me. Kind of stupid, don’t you think?”

You bit your lip, struggling to suppress your laughter as Owen’s face crumpled. You truly felt sorry for the poor thing—he really was a nice guy—but seeing Spencer get this sassy, especially when it was all because of you, was strangely entertaining.

“I—uh, yeah.” Owen gives a nervous laugh, his fingers awkwardly brushing the back of his neck. “Pretty stupid.”

“But we’d love to have Italian food with you! Right, baby?” Spencer gives your waist a subtle squeeze, his silent cue for you to play along.

You cough slightly, trying to cover your laugh. “Right! Yes, totally—Italian sounds great.”

“Yeah, that’s cool, guys. But, uh, now that I think about it, I’m swamped. You know, being a new agent and everything.” Roger’s voice wavers just enough to betray his weak excuse.

“So unfortunate. Maybe another time,” Spencer replied smoothly. Owen nodded stiffly, forcing a tight smile before quickly walking off.

You scoffed a laugh as Owen disappeared down the bullpen, the shock still lingering. You turned to Spencer, your eyes wide in disbelief.

“What in the world has gotten into that pretty head of yours?”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed a little, suddenly aware of how much of a spectacle he had just made in the middle of the office.

“He was asking you out,” he said quietly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You chuckled, reaching up to adjust his collar. “And I was just about to say no.”

His arms found their way back around your waist, leaning into your touch as if he’d forgotten where he was. His eyes flickered from your hands to your face, his expression softening. “I know you were. But he should know not to ask you.”

You smiled, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear, amused by how the man who’s so intent on keeping your relationship discreet in public is now letting his clingy nature shine through.

“You know he can’t smell that I’m taken, right?” you teased, a playful glint in your eyes.

“Well, maybe we should change that,” Spencer whispered, his voice low as he leaned in, his face brushing against your neck, causing you to giggle.

Unbeknownst to you, the whole team had quietly tiptoed their way down the stairs, and gathered around on the other side of the bullpen. They stood there, wide-eyed, like they were watching an episode of their favorite drama.

“Derek… Am I seeing this right?” Garcia whispered, voice dripping with curiosity as she watched Spencer's face disappear into your neck.

Morgan’s chuckle echoed through the bullpen. “Oh yes, babygirl. You’re seeing it just right.”

Spencer’s grip on you tightened as he sensed the peering eyes, but instead of discomfort, he radiated a quiet pride. He wasn’t hiding anymore—he was proud of what you shared, proud to be yours, and for you to be his, and he wanted the world to know it.

[witherby]

hello! great work so far :-) im getting into batfam myself and been loving the platonic/familial works you do w littlest wayne! was wondering if you'd ever do an teen y/n or just an older one? I'd love to see you tackle the idea of a robin y/n or jaybe just some angsty kid stuff,,,,,, hope you had a good new years!

-- :33Anon

I love angst with my whole heart and soul, and I'm happy to write it with a slightly older Reader. Hope you don't mind I've commandeered your prompt to showcase the ability you guys voted on.

This one's a long read so I'm splitting it up. This part is roughly 2400+ words.

The Littlest Wayne: Uncertain Home

(Part 1/2)

Masterlist is Here!

Uncle J'onn is looking at you curiously.

He's been doing that a lot, lately. When Daddy brings you to the Watchtower to be babysat so he can go save the world, one of his co-workers that they can afford to spare gets put in charge of keeping an eye on you. Usually it's Uncle Hal, but this time it's J'onn and he's in his natural form, which you don't mind. Green is your favorite color, and his whole body is green! He's nice and calm, and tells you lots of stories and plays any game you want, even if it's hard for him not to cheat and read your mind. He says it's instinct. You don't hold it against him because you still have fun.

Lately, though, when he talks to you, he tilts his head a bit. He usually does that when he can't understand something.

You wipe your face, checking for cookie crumbs. All clean. You search your shirt for any weird marks or stains. All clean. You scrunch your nose and puff out your cheeks, pouting.

"What's wrong, uncle J'onny?" You ask him. Daddy says the way to get honest answers from someone is just to be forthcoming (Dicky told you what forthcoming meant when you asked him later), so you are. "Did I do something wrong?"

That seems to snap his train of thought. J'onn shakes his head and goes back to sorting out the jigsaw puzzle pieces for you. You're good enough at this to do 100-piece puzzles, now, and when you get really stuck you don't even cry anymore!

"Nothing is wrong, Flittermouse," he says, watching you start putting the edges together first like Dami taught you. "You are simply...changing. Differences are not inherently wrong."

"What's inherably mean?"

"Inherently. It means instinctively, or something that is "set in stone." A rule that does not change. I am stating that change is not something that is always wrong. It's not a firm rule."

You pout and try to process all of that in your brain. It was a partial answer. Daddy says that means people might want to hide something from you.

"What's changing?" You ask him. "I got older a week ago. Is that what you mean? I'm four, now. Grandpappy says I'm getting so big and growed up. He says to not do that so fast. I dunno how, though. He's silly."

J'onn hums. His eyes look away from you as he considers what to say. You put one whole edge together before he speaks again.

"You know that I am not a human, correct?"

"Yeah, I know," you say. "I don't care. I love you. And auntie Diana. And uncle Clark. And uncle Barry. And —"

"Thank you," J'onn gently interrupts. "Do you also know that, sometimes, humans are born not entirely human? That sometimes they get special abilities?"

"Yeah, I know that," you repeat.

"I suspect that —" he cuts himself off, hesitates, then starts again. "Little one. You are showing signs of being one of those humans with special abilities."

"I am?" You ask. You perk up. "Can I fly?!"

You immediately abandon the puzzle and climb onto your chair, about to jump off of it to try and fly around, but J'onn catches you by the back of your shirt before you can hit the ground.

"You cannot."

"Aww...then I don't wanna be a megahuman," you complain, stomping your foot.

"Metahuman."

"Whatever."

"I am sorry," J'onn says, "I did not mean to upset you. I do think you are developing powers, however."

"Not fly powers?" You frown.

"No, not flight powers."

"Boring," you say, blowing raspberries. J'onn cracks a smile at your antics and you giggle. "Help me do the puzzle, please!"

"Alright," he relents, sorting more pieces for you. You're both quiet for a while, and you get the whole frame done before he speaks again.

"Little one. Do you know your father's rule about metahumans?"

"Yeah," you say, grinning, because you're a great listener. You pitch your voice down and make it scratchy. It's adorable in your four-year-old tone. "No metas in Gotham. I am Nighttime. Raaahhh."

J'onn huffs in amusement. "Right. He usually means what he says, does he not?"

"Yeah," you agree, "daddy is a bad liar. He lied and said he didn't eated the last cookie once, but he did eated it. Alfie was mad, 'cause it was for Dami, but Dami didn't care. He likes brownies more than cookies. I like brownies, too."

"I figured," J'onn says. He's not looking at you again. This time he's frowning.

"Do you want brownies?" You ask, figuring that was the issue. "I don't have any. I can ask for some when Daddy comes back. I'm good at sharing, 'cause I'm a good noodle, like Jay says."

"No, but thank you for offering to share. Jason is right, you are a good noodle."

You preen. "I know!"

J'onn drops the subject again and helps you complete the puzzle. You squint at every piece in concentration and politely ask him if he can dim the lights so you can work better. He complies, and after another hour and a half, you have a completed image on the table.

"Yay! We did it!"

The sounds of chatter and footsteps appear down the hall moments later, and you spring to your feet in delight.

"Hello!!!" You shout.

A chorus of "hello!" greets you in return from multiple heroes, and the rest of the Justice League files into the room one by one. They don't look too roughed up, so the mission wasn't very dangerous. That's good. You stand by the door and offer them hugs. Everyone complies, to your endless delight.

"Daddy!" You cheer when you see him, running and hugging Batman's legs. He scoops you into his arms and you grin and point at the table. "Uncle J'onny and I dided a whole puzzle! I didn't give up!"

"Good job, Mouse," Bruce says, reaching out to adjust the light. "You did it in the dark?"

"Yeah," you grin, kicking your feet. "Did you punch bad guys?"

"I did."

"Did you win?"

"Yes."

"Can we have ice cream?"

"Maybe after dinner." He carries you down the hall and towards his temporary quarters, the place he'll stay after a particularly tough mission when he can't make it home right away, and deposits you gently on the bed. "I have to debrief with everyone, and then we can pack up and go home."

"Okay, daddy," you say, already digging through the nightstand for a toy to play with. "I stay right here!"

"Good job," he says again, kissing the top of your head, and leaves you alone with a small wave.

--

The next time you need to be at the Watchtower, it's with Uncle Clark and Auntie Diana. The mission wasn't a super dangerous one, so they both got to stay behind and entertain you.

Today, you're a cashier at your world-famous grocery store. You have the best ingredients all over the world.

"Welcome to the groshy store, what do you want stranger?" You demand, getting into character. Clark looks mildly offended.

"Whoa, hello. That's a lot of 'tude for a paying customer," he says.

"You didn't buy nothing yet! Whataya want!"

"Uh. Some carrots please."

"All out."

Clark narrows his eyes at you. "Can you check in the back?"

You turn around. You turn back.

"All out. Whataya want!"

"You barely looked!" He insists.

"FRESH OUTTA CARROTS, BUB. WHATAYA WANT."

"Oh my goodness, now there's yelling. I think I need to speak to a manager."

"Okay!" You shuffle across the room and grab Diana's hand, leading her back to Clark. "This is the manager. Auntie, tell him all the carrots are gone. He can't have any."

Diana covers her mouth to stifle her laughter. "You heard them, stranger. There are no carrots here."

"Well, aside from the blatant nepotism, auntie, I think you're hiding the carrots from me," Clark huffs, crossing his arms. "I need them for my soup. Guess I'll go to the grocery store across town. I hear they're nicer."

"No," you gasp, "wait. Okay maybe I have one secret carrot. I go get it."

You leave their giggling forms and run over to the toy box that was set up for you on the watch tower, thrusting your hands inside to dig around. You squint your eyes, but all the bright colors are hard to distinguish properly. In the dark spaces, deeper into the box, is where you cast your focus. Instinctively, you follow the trail and close your hand around a plastic carrot. You lift your hand triumphantly.

"Okay, got it!" You cry, only to startle when you find both Clark and Diana kneeling beside your toy chest. Diana picks you up around the waist and takes several steps back, and Clark's eyes turn that funny shade of blue they do when he's using x-ray vision. "Umm, I gotted the carrot already. It's in my hand."

"Are you injured?" Diana asks you, expression deadly serious. You frown and shake your head. "You're certain? I could sense something in that box with you."

"No, I'm fine," you promise. Clark stands up and his eyes go back to normal. He shrugs, brows furrowed.

"There's nothing in there but toys."

"Yeah," you nod, "toys and dark spots."

Both heroes look at you. You squirm in Diana's hold shyly.

"Um, want to pay for the carrot?" You ask, holding it up. "It's only ten dollars. Orrr one lollipop." You whisper conspiratorially. "I can be bribed."

Diana and Clark exchange glances. Clark gingerly takes the carrot from you and puts it back in the toy box.

"Sold. Let's go to the kitchen and pick out which flavor you want."

You grin, forgetting about the game, and Diana puts you on the ground so you can follow excitedly after them. With a couple "pretty please's" and your lethal puppy dog eyes, you even manage to get two lollipops. You ask to be hoisted onto the counter so you can swing your feet as you enjoy the candy, and both heroes perch on either side of you.

It's quiet for a while. It feels like that weird, anticipatory quiet you felt with Uncle J'onny, but you don't know what for, so you wait for one of them to speak. You finish off one whole sucker and open the second one when it happens.

"Mouse?" Clark eventually asks, "can you explain what you meant about your toys? That there are dark spots in there?"

"Yeah," you say, "shadows. Dark spots. Light not touching."

"And you can...feel shadows?"

You hum, thinking it over. "Um...yes. Kind of."

Clark and Diana look at each other again. They're frowning. You frown.

"Can you tell us what you mean by that?" She asks.

"Um. I wanted the carrot, for uncle Clark," you say, "so he can buy it at my groshy store. And the dark spots showed me where it was, and I grabbed it."

"Did they also help you complete the jigsaw puzzle, when you were with J'onn?" Diana asks. "It was quite dark when we got back." You nod.

"Yeah. Easier to do in the dark. It's not cheating!" You blurt. "I didn't cheated!"

"Okay, ya' didn't cheat," Clark agrees, gently patting your back. There's a slight drawl in his words which usually shows up when he's stressed out. "We're just curious, is all, darlin'. Seems you've got a... A special talent, we can call it."

"It's a power. They're a metahuman, Kal," Diana says simply, "and you know Bruce's rule."

The rule? Which one? Always brushing your teeth before bedtime? Or maybe no sweets until you finish your dinner? Hmm, but you haven't had dinner yet. That doesn't make sense.

"No metas in Gotham. I'm very aware, Diana."

"Then you see the problem."

Oh. Now you think you know why uncle J'onny was upset that day.

"Now wait a minute," Clark says. He looks genuinely angry, which confuses you. Did they not like that you could ask the dark for help? They had superpowers, too. You figured they would be happy. "They're his kid."

You are. You're Daddy's little Flittermouse, scampering around and bringing joy. That's what everyone tells you. They love you.

"You've seen how hard he works to keep us out of Gotham," Diana says. "We can be trusted to babysit, but we can't enter the city? What does that tell you?"

"That's different. He's territorial, we all know that. He's not a monster, Diana. He would never hurt them —"

"I'm not saying he is. I'm not saying he would. But I am saying that he doesn't bend his own rules. He does not make exceptions."

Oh.

You sit almost numbly on the counter and watch Clark and Diana start to argue over your place in Gotham. Over your place at home.

You think about Daddy's rule about no metas in Gotham. You think about your new ability to interact with shadows.

Oh.

The lollipop tastes like ash on your tongue and the tips of your fingers feel like tv static. When you blink, your eyes sting as they well up with tears. You've been so good about not throwing fits, about not being a crybaby, about being as strong as your super cool daddy and brothers and grandpa.

But you can't call them that anymore, can you? They don't want metas in Gotham, and that's what you are, now. You can't live with your family anymore.

Large, fat tears roll down your cheeks and your bottom lip wobbles. You whimper and both Diana and Clark whip their heads around to look at you in shock.

"No, oh no, don't cry," Diana coos, "you don't need to worry. Your father isn't —"

You bat her hands away when she reaches for you and jump off the counter, running underneath Clark's cape. They don't catch on to what you're doing in time.

Clark practically rips it off and fans it on the floor, floating above it with wide eyes. Diana kneels next to the fabric and frantically pats it, searching for you.

But there's nothing. You've fled into the shadow Clark's body cast and allowed the darkness to swallow you.

[jo-speaks]

CROSSING PATHS

— right place, right time AU

summary: quinn meets an unlikely friend, and its owner.

warnings: none! wc: 1.6k

note: hope you guys enjoy this and the concept of this au :)

The captain was feeling incredibly overwhelmed- trying to find out why his team just couldn’t pull through in the end, no matter the amount of work and effort they put in at practice. It took a toll on him the hardest, his confidence going down the drain with every sound of the buzzer that announced their loss to the whole arena. 

While others would congratulate him regardless, giving him the whole, “You’re doing great.” spiel, he- for one- didn’t believe it, and two, he didn’t care for great. He wanted perfection. 

“Hun, get out of your apartment, forget about hockey for a minute.” His mother said over the phone after he had called her after a particularly tough OT loss, “It might clear your head a bit.”

Quinn groaned, his mother saying the impossible, “I don’t need a walk, Ma. We just need to win.”

Ellen’s laughter echoed throughout the apartment, “Q, you’ve got to unwind. I’m scared you’re going to blow up that head of yours.”

On some level, Quinn knew she was right. I mean, it was visibly obvious when his mind was running a million miles per hour. He hesitated before saying, “Fine. But if all I get from this is frostbite, you’re taking care of me.” 

“When am I not?”

Quinn let out a lighthearted laugh, saying his goodbyes before going to put his sneakers on and grab a warmer hoodie than the one he had on. He looked at himself in the mirror when he passed it in his hall, his hair disheveled and the exhaustion becoming more and more prominent every day. 

As he grabbed his door keys to walk out of the apartment, he briefly debated grabbing his hockey bag that sat next to his doorway and going to the rink instead. He quickly talked himself out of that idea, ultimately deciding that it would be counterintuitive to forget about hockey for a bit, whilst playing hockey.

~~~

Quinn made his way to the park nearby, settling on just walking wherever his feet took him instead of following an instructed trail. It was chilly, the Vancouver air surprisingly warmer than it had been in previous winters, but still cold enough to send a sharp shiver through his body. 

His eyes wandered as he let his senses become filled with the sounds of nature and the conversations of people passing by. Everyone looked so relaxed and carefree, giving Quinn a sliver of hope that he, too, would feel that way after a few hours here. 

He had become so entranced by his surroundings that his brain barely registered a voice quickly approaching that yelled, “Watch out!”

Quinn turned around, a sudden pressure coming down onto his lower stomach as a medium-sized golden retriever jumped on him with enough force to have him stumbling a bit, but not enough to knock him down completely. The animal’s tail wagged rapidly, its panting breaths reaching Quinn’s nose as it looked up at him. 

“Hey, bud.” Quinn cooed, petting its head, making the dog even more excited. 

You came up to him, leash around your waist as you panted, catching your breath before speaking up, “I am so sorry, she doesn’t normally do this.” He looked up, his jaw dropping slightly as he took you in. He noticed your hair had fallen out of your updo, now messily draped across your shoulders and back, your mascara running the slightest bit under your eyes due to sweat, but still keeping your lashes up and curled. But most of all, he noticed that gleam in your eyes that was a mix of joy and relaxation. 

The dog had now put her paws down fully on the concrete, beginning to circle around Quinn’s legs and even trying to go in between them before a snap of your fingers brought her back to those simple circles. 

“It’s okay,” Quinn muttered, trying to keep his composure as his heart thrummed rapidly in his chest. “Cute dog.” 

“Thank you.” You smiled, noticing her tail not slowing down in the slightest in his presence. “She seems to really like you, she’s not normally like this with strangers.”

Your words seemed to relax him a little bit, a grin appearing on his face as he squatted down, putting himself on level with the pup and rubbing her head, “What’s her name?” 

“Chilli.” You answered. 

Quinn gave you a look of confusion, “I was actually talking to her."

It took you a minute to realize what he had meant, but when it clicked, you let out a bubbly laugh that had Quinn’s head reeling, “Smooth. I’m Y/N.”

He gave Chilli one last pat before standing up, sticking his hand out like you were some lady in the office, “Quinn.” 

You shook his hand, laughing quietly at the formality before meeting his gaze fully this time, your brain registering his admirable features, which were all of them. 

The curve of his nose, his long lashes, and those eyes that reflected a look of relief. You caught yourself staring a little longer than you intended to, clearing your throat with a smile before looking down at Chilli. You hooked the link of the leash to her harness, ensuring she wouldn’t try this stunt again with another person. 

“Well, Quinn, if you’re not too busy, would you like to join us on the rest of our walk?” You proposed, growing enough courage to ask.

Quinn was sure his heart exploded. 

“Yeah. I’d like that.” He said as smoothly as possible.

The toothy smile that appeared on your face after he agreed had a matching one on his face immediately after. The two of you started walking, letting Chilli lead the way as she walked ahead of you, sniffing the ground as she went.

It was a comfortable silence that fell between you and Quinn, but he wanted to know more about the mystery girl and her dog that walked beside him.

“So,” He began, “Why the harness instead of a collar?”

You turned your head to face him, “I’m not a fan of collars. I know I wouldn’t like it if someone was tugging at my neck. Plus, this gives me a little more control of her without having to pull at her.” Quinn hummed, “Do you work with animals?”

“When I have time, I volunteer with this local animal shelter a few minutes from here.” Your words registered in his mind, the conversation flowing smoothly. Before he could ask you something else, you chimed in first. “What about you? What do you do?”

He hesitated. He knew he couldn’t just say, “I’m actually a professional hockey player.” Unfortunately for him, he did say it out loud instead of keeping it in his head like he had intended. 

When he caught the words spewing out of him before he could stop them, he braced himself, ready for you to grill him about his career, and income, or even pull out your phone to google him to find out yourself. So what you said next shocked him a little bit. 

“Oh, that’s fun. Do you like it?” You asked calmly, keeping your gaze straight ahead.

He let out a breath of relief, “Uh, yeah. I mean, not a whole lot right now.” You tilted your head, facing him again, “What’s that mean?”

“My team’s in a bit of a slump right now and we can’t seem to win anything.” He explained vaguely, not wanting to let himself fall into a deep conversation about hockey with someone he just met.

Luckily for him, you didn’t press. You simply hummed and switched topics that had more to do with him rather than his job. 

The two of you walked and talked about anything and everything, and by the time you returned back to where you had started, Quinn felt as if he’d known you for ten years instead of just two hours. 

And by the end of it, he wasn’t thinking about hockey at all.

“Thanks for joining us, Quinn.” You announced.

Quinn smiled, “Thanks for asking. I really needed that.” 

You stood there a bit awkwardly as Chilli licked at his shoes, her way of saying goodbye before you verbalized it and said, “I’ll see you around.” turning to walk away from him and back to your apartment.

Before you could, Quinn stopped you, walking to your side again so you would stop and face him. He stared at you for a minute before snapping himself out of his daze, pulling out his phone, and asking, “Do you think I could get your number? Maybe we could do this again sometime.”

His pupils nearly shaped hearts when you flashed him another smile, a small giggle coming from your throat as you took his unlocked phone from his hands and typed in your number and name into it. 

“Thanks.” He cheesed, “I’ll text you.” 

You bit your lip innocently, “Can’t wait.’”

He bid you goodbye, relishing in the way you turned around to look at him when you were a good distance away. He smiled to himself before making his way back to the apartment. On his way, he went to his call logs and facetimed his mom yet again. 

“You okay?” She picked up with a look of confusion on her face.

Quinn nodded, the smile on his face indescribably giddy, “Thank you for making me come out here.” 

“You look a lot better now, what happened?” She teased, but there was a hint of relief in her voice as he looked… lighter. 

“I met someone.”

[ofbatsandballads]

please take this. I made myself cry writing it and I have nothing to say except that putting ya’aburnee and darling by halsey on my jason playlist was a brutal choice. also look up flower language if you want additional feelings.

There’s so many things you want for Jason Todd.

You want him to get a good night’s sleep for once. You let him close his pretty seafoam eyes and lay his head in the crook of your neck as you scratch gently at his scalp. It always calms him down, grounds him in the here and now. Your arms around him, your fingers carding through his hair, the rise and fall of your chest that’s synced with his–it all reminds him that he’s safe, that he’s home. You want that feeling to follow him into his dreams, to let him find true rest. So when his body goes tense and his breathing gets labored, you hold him closer and hum gently into his ear until whatever haunts him in his sleep is chased away by the comfort you bring.

You want to make sure he’s protected. You wish you could deflect every hit, blade, and bullet away from his body. You wish he would see his body as something worth protecting. He would stop if you asked, would settle into a normal life as best as he could. You would never ask because to do so would be to deny the part of him you love most: his heart that beats to help others. So you protect him in the ways that you can. You stitch cuts and treat burns, you mend his jackets and help clean his guns. More than anything, you guard his peace of mind like it’s the most valuable thing in the world. You’re never cruel to him, never scream vicious words or toss him out into the cold night. You call Bruce and thank him for the first edition Jane Austen novels that arrived on your doorstep on August 16th when Jason just…can’t. You let him grip your hand brutally tight under the table when you go to the manor for Thanksgiving for the first time. And when it gets really bad? When he feels the burning of green waters that breathed life into him that he didn’t want, when hideous laughter echoes in a place it’s never been? You do something no one has ever done for him. You wait. You stay. You stay by his side until he can breathe again, until dawn breaks and he can see the light again. And always, always you, haloed in it like an angel he doesn’t think he deserves. He does.

You want him to have a good cup of hot chocolate. He told you about it once when he came home after a long winter patrol. Half delirious from exhaustion, he reminisced about how Bruce would make them both a cup of hot chocolate after particularly rough or successful patrols in December. How this specific hot chocolate had no equal—even Alfred couldn’t replicate the richness and warmth. You noticed the fondness in his voice, the longing so intense that it still makes your heart ache for him. So you do some light stalking and hunt down Tim Drake, demand that he give you the information you want or else you’ll disclose how he really lost his spleen to Bruce (why he was dense enough to tell Jason, you’ll never know). And that is how Bruce Wayne, billionaire philanthropist single father and the Batman, receives an email with the subject line “URGENT: Recipe Request” that reads as follows:

To whom it may concern,

I have been made aware that you have a remarkably compelling hot chocolate recipe that is hitherto unparalleled by cafes, franchises, and butlers alike. I am emailing you to inquire about my being sent this recipe post-haste. This is less a request than a demand. I will do my best to ensure that you, at some point in time not specified (it will take great effort on my part), are able to witness the consumption of the hot chocolate by the individual that will be receiving the product of the recipe.

Best regards,

Someone who loves your son.

Bruce sends the recipe the second he receives the email. He has to sneak his phone under the conference table at the Wayne Enterprises board meeting to do it, but he still manages to reply in two minutes and forty-seven seconds. And you make good on your promise. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Jason shine as brightly as he does that Christmas, lit up by the lights on the twelve foot tree as he sips his hot chocolate from the same red mug that’s been sitting in the kitchen cabinet since he last drank from it. The matching black mug is clasped in the hands of the hot chocolate connoisseur himself, who smiles softly like the magic of the season has returned to his life for the first time in ages.

You want him to heal. It’s a big ask; you know that. But you’ve never been one for giving up hope, and if anyone can manage to achieve the impossible, it’s Jason. So you tell him it’s a great idea when he jokes about getting a therapist. You wait for him in the car the first time he goes and you let him open up to you in his own time when he comes out of the appointment body tight as a bowstring and eyes bloodshot. You watch quietly and celebrate the little victories you see him win. He can call his father first now; he doesn’t do it often, but he can. He can talk to his younger brother without hating his hands and the blood that’s been spilled on them, without going out on patrol and intentionally letting all the worst hits make contact. He can go out to lunch with his older brother and his youngest, can laugh with them over that ridiculous thing Bruce did at a gala once to make them all laugh. He can bear his birthday a little bit better now, can accept the cake you bake and actually make a wish when he blows out the candles. But you’ll never know about the moment that you start to get what you want. Jason goes to visit his own grave on the anniversary of his death and finds a bouquet of red carnations, baby’s breath, and honeysuckle with a note in your handwriting that reads “Someone told me once that you were magic, that that was the best thing about you. I think it’s far more important that you were loved. I don’t know what you could’ve been. I don’t wonder about it like those that loved you did because all I know is who you became. He’s wonderful. He’s still magic. I think you’d be proud of him. I’ll do my best to take care of him for you.” He sits there for an hour in tears. Then he takes one bud of each flower and the note, goes home and presses them into the pages of his favorite book. He holds you in his arms in bed that night and feels, for the first time in a long time, a sense of peace down to his very bones.

You want—above all else—Jason Todd to feel loved. You want him to feel so cherished and wanted that he cannot possibly look at himself without realizing that he is something precious, something beloved. So you tell him that you love him and you accept his warm embrace as his way of saying it back. You make him chocolate chip cookies and sneak one into the pocket of his tactical pants when he goes on patrol (they’re soft, they don’t get crunched when he’s thrown from a roof). You read his favorite books to understand what he’s saying when he goes off on tangents about class and social hierarchy and how they governed life in the 19th century. You trace his scars and kiss away his tears when he can’t believe that he could be transformed from a being marred by brutality into a man revered with gentleness. You will love him until the day you both die. You will love him in death, until whatever atoms made up you and him come together again. You will love him until everything that ever is or ever was ceases to be in a supernova of light. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll love him in whatever is born after.

[lqveharrington]

hii, i would love for you to do ‘the prophecy’ with fred weasley and ravenclaw reader!! thank you so much 💓

The Prophecy | F.W.

summary: fred’s starting to feel insecure in your relationship, and trelawney’s reading doesn’t make it any better.

pairing: fred weasley x ravenclaw!reader

includes: use of Y/N, insecure fred, a lot of overthinking, angst, fluff at the end

a/n: for some reason, this prompt stumped me so bad. so sorry if it’s not up to the usual standards 😭

One, two. One, two, three, four.

You impatiently counted how many times the alarm on Trelawney’s stupid clock would go off until she realized it wasn’t a crystal ball predicting a Hufflepuff's future. All you wanted was class to be over and be in the arms of your loving boyfriend, but they changed the house pairings for electives. Instead of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, it was Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Luckily, you still had all your core classes with Gryffindor.

As you lazily blew on the small braid you gave yourself in your boredom, a crack of lightning struck right outside, causing Trelawney to jerk in surprise with horror etched into her face. It looked like she had just seen the grim itself.

She whipped her head around and looked directly at you, taking your hands in her shaky ones. She read your palm like the lines had magically changed since last class, muttering quietly to herself until cleared your throat in confusion.

“My dear, you will receive ill-advised news by the end of the week.” She whispered and pulled your hand closer to her buggy eyes, furrowing her brows when she saw your life line. “Expect your spirit to be broken and rebuilt by the one you trust the most.”

Your lips kissed you teeth in an unsettling manner. Was this your punishment for not listening to her and sometimes making fun of her? Did she want to make you feel bad about your life choices? Sure you bored out of your mind in class but that didn't mean you wanted a horrid reading.

Your eyes flickered toward the dark sky outside again, watching as the lightening struck louder than the last. Trelawney sighed and patted your hand shut, dismissing everyone with a quiet wave. Everyone looked at her in bewilderment before slowly leaving the tower, murmuring amongst themselves.

Furrowing your brows and flexing your hand, you took your things and hastily made your way down the ladder, narrowly avoiding your face splattering on the stone floor. You always believed in everything factual — Ravenclaw, through and through — and you weren't actually sure why you chose Divination as your elective. The crystal balls and tea leaf readings never seemed credible, always predicting the same things over and over again.

However, the Weasley Twins loved Divination. They often made up their readings and passed with Outstandings. George believed he had a natural aptitude for the class whilst Fred said he had unlocked his inner eye. But what they both heavily believed in was Trelawney's words — which you thought was utter rubbish.

When you had Divination with them in sixth year, she told them that they would encounter a horrible noise, sending someone they love plummeting. That same week, Harry retreived his golden egg from the first task and revealed it to be screeching merpeople in the common room, causing the twins to drop him from their shoulders to cover their ears. From that day onward, they clung onto her every word like it was the sacred truth.

Which it wasn't.

Shaking all thoughts of Divination out of your mind, you made your down to the Great Hall. It was your potions study hall with the rest of the sixth years, and you needed time to decompress after whatever stupid prophecy Trelawney read off you.

You scanned the hall and smiled when you saw the twins, Lee, Alicia, and Angelina already working on their forty-inch essay for potions. Well, the girls were working on their essays. The twins and Lee were playing Exploding Snap — although they weren't very subtle with it.

The look on your face meant nothing but trouble. You shook your head and messed with them, putting your hands on the twins' shoulders and holding back a laugh when you saw them jump and pretend to work on their essays. Lee looked up at you and shook his head in amusement, nudging the two Weasleys to look behind them.

George was the first to turn and rolled his eyes when he saw you, scooting over so you could sit in between him and Fred. He took your bag and put it beside his on the ground, still grumbling under his breath.

"Blimey, Y/N. I thought Snape was going to take points off and give us detention again." George nudged your side with his elbow, ruffling your hair in the process.

"Again? What did you lot do in the few minutes it took for me to get here?" You tease and tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, grabbing your own parchment out with only ten-inches left for your essay.

You quietly worked on your essay while ensuring the mischievous trio stayed on task, every so often glancing up to make sure they were doing anything stupid. As you wrapped up your essay, you looked up to your right and met Fred's eyes. You gave him a soft smile but only earned a half-hearted, tight-lipped nod back.

Parchment crinkled under your hold before you released a breath. You pursed your lips and went back to your essay, forcing back the tears of frustration from spilling out. For the past two weeks, Fred began to grow more and more distant from you. You weren't sure what exactly prompted him to do so, but he wouldn't give you an answer and the rest of your friends... Well, they didn't know if you wanted to know from them.

You felt like you were slowly sinking further away from him and you couldn't do anything. Biting your tongue to stop anymore thoughts, you turned in your essay to Snape and swiftly left the Great Hall with no spare glances toward the Gryffindors.

The states of pity from your friends only made you feel like you were crumbling into forever broken pieces.

You sat with your back against a great oak, throwing another stone into the Black Lake. The ripples echoed and repeated until they settled, the small bubbles diminished.

The rays of the sun hit your eyes, causing you to wince softly. You turned to the side and fully expected Fred to be sitting next to you, a small frown etching its way to your lips when you saw nothing but the Hogwarts castle.

Fred usually came with you whenever you needed to relax, but thinking about the past few weeks only hurt your heart.

As the whispers from the Forbidden forest grew stronger and the sun slowly descended behind the trees, you shut your eyes and leaned your head against the tree. You wished you didn’t have to leave your spot; you were only just beginning to clear your mind.

Frustratedly, you rub your closed eyes with the palms of your hands, freezing when someone spoke from behind you. That someone having an all too familiar voice.

"Love, you're going to irritate your eyes."

Your head whipped around to stare at the boy you fell deeply in love with last year at the Yule Ball. The glare you threw at him could’ve petrified him. "You have no right to call me love after ignoring me for two — almost three — weeks.”

Fred swallowed thickly and sat on a boulder beside you. He knew he was in the wrong for avoiding you for so long without telling you the truth. He believed that it was better for you not to know, but what good was it in the long run?

"I know, I'm sorry." He mumbled and bit his lip, looking down at his tattered shoes rather than meeting your eyes. "It's okay if you never want to see me ever again or choose to hate me, but I avoided you because — " He paused and squeezed his eyes shut. Godric, he was going to sound like such a stupid prick. "Because of a prophecy Trelawney gave me."

Your mouth parted ever so slightly before you threw a small rocks at his legs. Your voice rang out clear and loud, reminding him of his own mother. "Are you kidding me? Frederick Gideon Weasley! You've been avoiding me because of a stupid reading?”

"I'm sorry! But what she said about me made it seem like you needed someone better!" He let your rocks hit him and huffed, frustration bubbling within himself. He took in a breath before looking back over at you. "She told me that the something I love will succeed but only if a great weight of unstableness no longer burdened it."

You crease your brows in confusion and drop the rest of your rocks onto the ground, shaking your head as he clenched and unclenched his fist. "What are you talking about?"

"Love, you're bloody brilliant." Fred met your eyes for the first time in days. All he wanted to do was have you in his arms again and press kisses everywhere he could, but he still owed an explanation to you. "You've passed all your OWLs with flying colors and you've studied so hard for you NEWTs." He buried his face in his hands and sighed. "I'm the burden that will hold you back if you choose to stay with me."

Your initial annoyance and anger melted away at his words, eyes softening at the sight of his dejected state. "Freddie, you're not a burden to me or anyone — “

He let out a laugh that sounded more like a scoff. "I have no money. When you need support, you wouldn't get any from me. I'm not good enough for you."

Five seconds of utter silence took over. The fluttering of the owls delivering mail overhead and the sounds of the curfew bell were the only things that were heard.

Before Fred could even register what was happening, you flung yourself into his arms and rested your head on his. He froze before wrapping his arms around your midsection, burying himself into your chest. He breathed in your scent, body releasing all the tension he had stored inside.

This wasn’t the first time Fred has ever felt insecure about your relationship. There had been other times where he felt like he wasn’t good enough for you, but you were always there to reassure him whenever he voiced them to you. It was horrible to see him act like someone other than his usual self. You loved who he was and you wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Freddie…” You rub his back gently and feel him melt into you. “I don't need any money. Your words are enough support for me.”

He only nodded in response, missing your touch after days of avoidance. Fred felt your move around so you were sitting beside him, your hands moving to turn his head toward you.

You smiled at him and thumbed his cheeks. "And didn't I tell you not to believe everything Trelawney says? I doubt she was taking about our relationship." You pressed a light kiss to his lips before pulling him into another hug, "I love you, Freddie. Don't ever forget that."

When he didn’t say anything, you pulled away and looked over his features, brows furrowing as you saw his teary eyes.

"Fred —?”

"I love you so much, woman." He murmured before capturing your lips in a mind-searing manner, feeling you smile into the kiss. Fred pulled away for a breath before placing another tender kiss to your lips, thumbing the bottom lip when you pulled away in a daze. "You're my soulmate."

You grin shyly and lean your head on his shoulder, looking up at him. "No more overthinking, okay?" You watched as he nodded at you, his face flushing a deep shade of red when you began to pepper kisses on his neck. Each kiss meaning the same thing.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Fred took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles, chuckling when you got flustered over a simply gesture. "You might make me fall even deeper in love with you."

You hummed and pressed one last kiss to his lips, both of you grinning like idiots in love. "Have I changed the prophecy yet?"

"Hm, you'll have to let me check again." He said softly and gave you one final breathtaking kiss, squeezing your hip. "I think so."

"I love you, Fred Weasley." You sigh happily and kiss his cheek. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[witchofhistory]

It was Titus that told them something was wrong. The two dogs had moved to a quieter room to map instead of struggling through the humans that were acting loud and obnoxious over Family Game Night, despite doing this once a month for years. It wasn’t like the scores changed much anyway. 

Tim and Jason were kickass together at Trivial Pursuit, so that was a no-go, Charades and Monopoly had been banned since before Steph came into the family, so it was almost entirely games of luck and betting games. Cass was always the dealer to keep everyone in check and Dick was her check since he was the only one to really be able to catch her in a lie. 

Not that she did, it was obvious she was having too much fun to ruin the game by cheating. 

“Get the dice! Get the dice!” Tim screamed as Steph dove for the dice that had rolled off the table, fighting off  Damian’s attempts to get to them first. The two wrestled as Steph reached out,  snatching the dice that had fallen off the table and under the couch. Tim cheered as he caught them, meaning it was his team’s turn and Damian/Bruce had lost the right to theirs. 

Damian pouted as he glared at Bruce. “You are too old to be effective.” 

Bruce rolled his eyes, having heard far worse starting when he took in Dick at only twenty two and was promptly informed he was an old man for his back cracking habit when he stood up. “Thank you for that assessment.” 

The others giggled at his face and Dick felt his chest warm at the fact that they were mostly all here. At least Bruce’s official kids were, it had to be world ending to get the extended crew here. Babs rarely left her tower at night, preferring to stay on coms with Bluebird, Batwoman, Batwing, and Gotham Girl, who were currently filling in to give the rest of them a night off. Huntress might show up at some point, if only to spread chaos since Batman wasn’t around to stop her (or give her the disappointed dad state). 

All of that was ruined by panicked barking as Tiitus skidded into the room, scratching the hardwoods with his nails as he struggled to control paws too big for his body. He yelped as he slammed into the couch, but quickly shook himself off and grabbed Bruce’s sleeve between his teeth. 

“Titus!” Damian chastised. “Let go.” 

The great dane completely ignored him and started tugging Bruce out of the room, forcing the  rest of them to follow him all the way to a sitting room where Ace was sprawled over his dog bed. Immediately it was clear there was something wrong. 

Ace always sat up when they came into a room, if only to check them over and go back to sleep afterwards, but he barely so much as twitched his ears towards them. He whined once he caught sight of them. 

Dick walked over to  him slowly while Bruce and Damian tried to calm Titus, who was still keeping Bruce’s sleeve captive. “Hi buddy, what’s going on?” He slowly reached out a hand to pet Ace’s ears, flinching back when he felt like muscle spasm under his hand. Even with all his training, it was hard to keep himself calm when that was his boy . His buddy. “Bruce? I think we need to go to the vet.” He tried to keep his voice even so the kids didn’t panic. 

It was a bit of a blur after that, stuffing all of them into the minivan while he and Jason held Ace in the trunk to keep him from getting jostled around too much. He was barely moving, and only his right side. 

There was barely any time between the house and the waiting room. All of his siblings  tried to keep a hand on Ace, petting gently and speaking soft whispers to tell him it was going to be okay. Ace, despite whatever had happened, kept trying to look at them and lean into their hands. Dick  held back a sob as he realized his boy was still trying to comfort them, to tell them it was going to  be okay as much as they were trying to comfort him. 

“Ace is going to be okay, right?” Steph asked quietly, even though they all knew he was old. Most German Shepherds usually only lived to thirteen, let alone the seventeen he was now with all of their night work. 

Damian responded before he could. “tt. Of course. He is strong.” 

Dick reached out his free hand to run a hand through Damian's hair, both to soothe his brother and to give himself something to do. “The vets are going to do everything they can to help him.” 

Bruce came back from talking to the tech at the front desk and knelt on the floor between Duke and Cass, letting them lean on him while he bent forward to press kisses between Ace’s ears. “Hey buddy, they'll see you in just a few minutes. They have to prep the room and then they're going to help you, okay?” 

Part of Dick was bitter that this was the softest he had seen Bruce in years, but he also knew it had been yeast since there were scared little kids or animals that needed comfort from him. Batman had moved away from rescuing kidnapping victims and instead focused on taking on the hard hitters, putting himself in danger before ever letting his kids take part. The rest of him was glad that if this was it, Ace at least got to see Bruce like he was when they were little one more time. 

They couldn't let everyone go in the room because there wasn't enough space for them, it would be a fire hazard. Without the ability to put all of their  focus on Ace in front of them, they all ended up pacing or playing  on their phones to distract themselves from what was happening. Dick glanced over at Tim who he was pretty sure was running a complete takeover of one of Luther’s subsidiaries on one phone and was playing Royal Match on the other. “How’s it going, Timmy?” 

“I still need to shoot all the ducks.” 

Dick raised an eyebrow at that. “And Luther?” 

“Too easy, I needed something more frustrating to focus on.” “Okay then.” Dick decided to focus on a different sibling for the time being. 

They all perked up when the Vet Tech came out, but it was obvious it wasn’t good news from the get go. They had on a similar face to the ones they themselves wore when talking to victims. They kept their body language open and relaxed, and kept their hands facing slightly sideways. They were even leaning forward slightly like they were trying to look less intimidating. “After much discussion, Mr.Wayne and the doctor have decided it’s best to put Ace to sleep.” 

Someone choked on a sob. It might have been Dick. 

“You can go in pairs to say your goodbyes.” 

Dick didn’t realize there was anything wrong with Damian until they got home. He wasn’t crying like Duke or the girls (or Dick, even if he tried to hide it), he wasn’t angry like Jason, or focused on Bruce like Tim. He didn’t expect him to be emotional in public, he tried to avoid drawing attention to himself nowadays if  he wasn’t able to put on the ‘perfect Wayne’ persona. 

And when they got inside, Bruce almost immediately got a message on his League communicator. He froze in the doorway as they put Ace’s box of ashes on the mantle, where it would stay until they could bury him properly. “Fuck.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking the most disheveled that Dick had seen  him in months. “I have to go, I am specifically requested by one of the delegations we’re trying to create a treaty with and they won’t start without me. I will try to reschedule when I get there or end it early.” 

Have to? Cass signed even as she walked over to hug him goodbye. 

“We will be fine in your absence, Father,” Damian said. He was in his favorite chair, pulling out a sketchbook from the side pocket attached to the arm. “You may go to your meeting, the others will calm down soon and your coddiling is unnecessary.” 

Bruce frowned, but another notification reminded him of how little time he had. He looked to Dick instead, like he always did, to figure out what was happening and take care of it. “I love you all.” It was stilted, but still far more than Dick expected honestly. Cass got a kiss to her forehead, Dick a pat on the shoulder, and then he was gone. 

There was silence for a few minutes as everyone settled into more comfortable positions, the girls cuddling on the couch and Tim sprawling on the floor, leaning on their legs. Duke sat in the other armchair by himself, while Jason just continued his pacing. 

Dick hoped that he would have time to talk to Damian before the fighting started, but just as he moved to pull his youngest brother away, Jason stopped. 

“I don't know why you're such an asshole, brat,” he snarled over at Damien who didn't even so much as look up at him. “Even Mr. Emotional Constipation himself is feeling sad. I thought you were all about animals.” 

“And I thought you had some decorum but clearly I was mistaken. This will pass and then we can forget all about it.” 

That got everyone’s attention as Jason reeled back like he’d been slapped. He pulled the sketchbook out of Damien's hands, and dragged the kid out of his seat. “The fuck you just say?”

Damian glared at him, trying to get his sketchbook back. “What's done is done, it's not like there is anything we can do to fix it. He's asleep.” 

Jason turned a furious shade of red, but Steph cut him off before he could blow up anymore. “What?” She narrowed her eyes at Damian like she was seeing something the rest of them weren't, showing off the detective skills she pretended she didn't have after her short stunt as Robin. “What do you mean he’s asleep?” 

“The fuck it matter?” 

“Shut up,” Dick snapped, a terrible thought worming its way into his brain. This was his Batgirl, if she thought this was something…God, he didn't want her to be right. 

Damian tensed his muscles like he wanted to shuffle, but didn’t believe it was allowed. It made something sharp appear in Dick’s side despite the swirling mix of sadness and grief, knowing that they were scaring him enough that he was trying to de-escalate. “He’s in a comatose state so he can heal. He’ll be fine once he wakes up.” 

The entire room seemed to freeze as one after another his siblings were hit by the frying pan that was that statement. 

Tim was the first to break and choked out a soft, “what?” 

“The vet said that they put him to sleep,” Damian said in that tone of voice he used when he thought they were being particularly stupid, when he was sure he was right and refused to believe anything else.  

And it hit Dick, not for the first time, that his little brother was ten. He was a child whose first language wasn’t English, who struggled with some of the idioms like any other non-native speaker, and he was ten . Even if he was the smartest ten year old that Dick had ever met, even if he was brilliant at picking up clues, he sometimes didn’t want to see what was right in front of him. Sometimes he didn’t know enough to understand. 

Steph choked on a sob that might have also been a laugh as she turned into Cass’ side and announced, “nope! I can not do this right now.” 

It really wasn’t her job anyway. Not when she refused to be adopted for reasons he was going to pretend not to know until someone told him, not when she wasn’t the oldest. Because it was his job, as the oldest, to take on their burdens. To take care of them and explain things they didn’t understand. Even when they were hard and made his throat feel like he was gargling glass. 

“I do not understand.” Damian looked at him with wide eyes, clearly trying to figure out what  he missed. “Ace might not be optimal when he awakens, but—” 

Dick dropped to his knees in front of his baby brother with the force of a prayer. “Damian, when an animal is put to sleep, it doesn’t mean that they are put in a medical coma like a human. It means that they’re…put down.” 

Damian shook his head aggressively as he shoved away the hands that Dick tried to hug him with. “That’s not true! Ace is a good dog, he did nothing wrong. He is injured! If they just help him, he will get better and he can be Bat-Hound again!” When Dick started to try saying something again, he was barreled over by Damian shoving Dick backwards and backing up. “No! He can get better! Father would not terminate one of us because of an injury, why would he terminate Ace?” 

Jason shifted uncomfortably but tried  to step forward to help, which was appreciated even if it wasn’t necessary. “Baby Bat, it’s not like that.” 

There was a moment when Dick thought maybe Damian understood, but the tears welling up in his eyes and the resignation on his face did not bode well. “They’ve already killed him, haven’t they?” He looked over at the box on the table, his mouth forming a little “o” as it finally hit him what had happened. “I understand now.” 

Dick hummed as he repositioned his knees from the sitting position he’d fixed himself into. “Do you want a hug, baby? I know it’s hard when stuff like this happens, it’s always hard to lose an animal. We love them so much and…” 

Damian shook his head again. His eyes had dried, but the expression on his face was more blank than anything else. Like all the emotion had been pulled out of him. “Ace is dead. I have to go.” 

“What do you mean?” Dick didn’t even have a chance to blink before his little brother was just gone. He swore as he tried calling for his youngest brother, but there was no response and only the eerie silence of grief hanging in the air. “We have to find him, before he hurts himself or panics or, I don’t even know!” 

Cass appeared in front of him and offered a hand that he took gratefully. Once he was standing, she started signing that she would go look in the barn. Steph followed after her, which was probably a good idea. Safety in numbers. Duke and Jason offered to look in the library, while Tim said he would find Alfred and check with him to see if Damian had gone to the kitchen to hide. 

Which left Dick. Honestly, it was probably better that he wasn’t with one of his siblings for the first time since the Vet had told them there was nothing they could do. It  made it easier to take his grief over Ace, over lost nights cuddling in a bed that still felt too big for a kid who used to share with his parents and then more often than not found a friend’s bed to slip into when he could. Over training together and learning together and giving each other looks when Bruce was being stupid again . Ace was his first brother, even if he felt a little silly saying that about a dog. 

But his grief wasn’t  important, not in the face of keeping his siblings together enough that they could heal. Not in the face of Damian potentially running. With the others running around, Damian would either stay in his room or head down to the cave to become Robin and take his anger out on the criminals of Gotham. Like father, like son. 

What he wasn’t prepared for was Damian to completely ignore the locker rooms he was guarding and to head straight for the Zeta in full gear, with the Watchtower codes. He quickly texted the Sibling Chat what happened as he threw on a domino, not bothering to put on his uniform despite knowing he’d wished he had later, and chased after the baby of the family. 

Would he yell at Bruce for leaving them alone? 

Would Damian try to convince Bruce to use the Pits and bring Ace back? Did the Pits even work on ashes? 

Dick skidded to a stop in front of the meeting room and froze in the open doorway as he heard his littlest brother, his littlest sibling , say the most heartbreaking thing he had ever heard. 

“You believe you have disappointed me.” Bruce looked confused, like he was trying to think through a fog. Ace was affecting him enough that his Batman persona was slipping away, leaving only their dad behind. 

“Yes.” 

“Why?” 

Damian’s voice cracked as he carefully said, “I have been informed that Ace was terminated as a punishment for my behavior.”

Before Dick could even move, Bruce was removing the cowl and whatever remained of Batman to pull Damian closer in a loose hug. “Oh, no, sweetheart, that’s not true. What makes you think that? It’s not your fault.” 

It was telling that even as Damian started to tremble, he let Bruce hold him. “Ahki said you did not terminate him because of something Ace did, which means it must have been something I have done. There was no other reason for you to deny him treatment for his injuries!” 

Oh, Jay is going to be so smug Damian called him Ahki when he hears about this . It wasn;t really an appropriate thought, but it was the only one that came to mind in the face of Damian believing they blamed him for Ace. 

Bruce brushed the hood away from Damian’s face and cupped his cheek gently, holding the little boy like he was the most precious thing in the world. Dick remembered what it felt  like to be held like that, to be small enough that Bruce wanted to protect you from the world. “Ace was seventeen. Dogs of  his size usually only live to about thirteen or fourteen years of age, and yet he stayed with us long enough to meet you. I am very grateful he did.” He took a deep breath and held it, then sighed. “Ace was not terminated. He was put down after his seizure caused his left side to be completely paralyzed. He was in pain and there was nothing they could do to help him. If they had tried, he would have died on the table instead of with me holding him.”  

“You are not angry with me. It was not my error that led to this?” Damian’s voice cracked sharply as he pressed his lips together to try and keep control of himself. “Ba--  Baba? You will not have Titus killed?”

Dick couldn’t take it anymore. Hearing Damian call Bruce something other than Father, let alone something as childish as Baba, for the first time broke whatever restraints kept him rooted to the spot. He ran over to his brother and dad, crouching next to Damian and leaning on Bruce’s chair despite how it dug into his side.

Bruce didn’t take his eyes off of Damian, but he did move a hand to rest on Dick’s shoulder. “No, Robin. It was just old age; Ace isn't suffering and I would never hurt or kill one of your treasured friends. Even to make a point. Batman doesn’t kill and Bruce Wayne doesn't either.” 

The dam broke as Damian hiccuped out a sob, burying himself in Bruce’s arms as he apologized for his weakness, “I’m sorry Baba,” and choked on anything else. 

Dick moved to pull Damian away, an offer to bring him back home on the tip of his tongue before Bruce could push either of them away, but instead he was pulled up into one of his dad’s all encompassing hugs. His dad had arms that were big enough to wrap around them both, and the cape shielded them from view as it created a cocoon of safety that Dick just couldn’t stop himself from burrowing into. He curled a hand through Damian’s hair protectively and for the first time all day, let himself cry. The tears pooled in his mask and the snot made his nose hurt, but that was a problem for Other Dick. The Dick that had to be strong. 

And right now? That guy was the least of Dick’s worries. 

Without even moving to let them go, Bruce swept up Damian  to sit on his hip as he stood and pulled Dick more firmly under arm to hide in his side. “I will be returning home. Do not call me until I reach out.” 

It might have been Batman who entered the Watchtower, but it was Bruce who left. Who kept a hand on the back of Dick’s head like he used to when Dick was too short for Bruce to comfortably put a hand on his shoulder. 

Damien not knowing that dogs only live 10-16 years

A family pet passed away recently so I decided to funnel my sadness into Damien.

Give me a Damien who had never been allowed animals in the League and if they were discovered, Ra's forced him to kill them or give them away depending on what kind of animal it was.

Give me a Damien who in the back of his head knows animals don't live forever but doesn't understand how old Ace is when he gets there.

And this boy gets so attached to animals.

Give me a Damien who doesn't understand what happened when Titus brings him to Ace, who passed away in his sleep. Who believes someone killed one of their dogs.

And he's angry first, because that's safer, and he's freaking out and trying to figure out who did it and why when Dick finds him. And they bring Ace to the vet and the Vet says he was just old. Dick tries so hard to be comforting and is doing his best but that's his childhood dog right there.

Give me a Damien who suits up and interrupts a Watchtower Meeting to demand Batman get the JLD to bring Ace back. And he's trying so hard to be angry.

But this boy is 10.

And when Bruce, not Batman, offers him a hug, he breaks down right then and there and starts sobbing and asking why Ace had to die. Wasn't he good? He was trying so hard, he thought he was doing better.

And Bruce is wiping at his tears and telling him he was good, it wasn't his fault. Ace was old, very old for a big dog. He was almost 17.

Give me a Bruce who excuses himself from the meeting and picks Damien up to bring him home, to cuddle his kids and to cry in peace.

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 || 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary_ when you declined to play Ddakji with a man, the least you expected was him stalking you, even less expected when you oblige him to lick your bleeding wound after seeing him kill a man and escaping him.

warnings_ MDNI, age gap (not specified but legal) reader is a foreigner (implied American but not specified again), stalking, blood play, dom!salesman, switch!reader, toxic till the end, sexual innuendos, manipulation, questionable morals, do not romanticize this irl pls, NO PROOFREAD YET

notes_ I’ll just drop this fic and leave it there bc why am i feeling so horny for an Asian sociopath? me la estoy pasando bien raro (i like it)

♫ ♪ the worst playlist 4 this man

✰ Index (+ fics here)

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Everything was irritating. The class you had was canceled last minute, the crowd at the train station was loud, the tapping of a kid in a window was constant, and the message you received asking for your campus ID to keep using your student account was sudden and required immediate action. Your cramps and migraine only aggravate everything.

You were steps away from the stairs when you stopped to take the damn picture of your ID and be done with that. But of course, you couldn’t find your wallet at first glance, so you moved aside to take a better look.

You worried about kneeling and ruining your black coat with the dirtiness of the floor at the station, but at the same time, you thought it was just stupid.

A trail of curses flooded your mind as you tried to find your wallet, making you oblivious to a random man walking in your direction.

“Excuse me, Miss… Would you like to play Ddakji?” Said the man asked you in Korean. You were occupied with a hand inside your thrifted designer tote, and your mind unconsciously prepared an answer in English.

“Sorry, I don’t have time” When you realized your mid-answer you sighed, just as you fished out your wallet. “For every win of yours, you’ll earn a great sum of cash”

Once you stood up, you met the face of the man who now answered in English as well. Very tall, handsome, innocent smile and in a suit; a businessman. You knew it was wrong to judge but there was something behind the smile he offered you that resulted eerie.

Like behind that seemingly blameless expression, the man was hiding his true intentions.

Might’ve been your eyes or hair that caught his attention. You weren’t native, and he didn’t want to think he could take advantage, yet his feet dragged him to you.

Placing your bag over your shoulder again, you grab your glasses and phone with tangled EarPods. You give the man one last look. You are not having a good day and you don’t have time to deal with this.

“What do you say?” He asks feigning kindness, eyeing you subtly without your knowledge.

“No, thank you. I don’t even know how the game works”

“You look like you are a natural. You might be surprised if you try. You just have to pick a color and try to flip the opposing tile”

The rich always trying to fuck the one who isn’t. This was just a new way. The urge to roll your eyes grew but you remained still.

“Look, I’m sorry. But I bet you do this just to see how desperate people who need money can go. I won’t be one of them. If not, sorry for misjudging you” you harshly say before putting on your EarPods and leaving the station. You leave him perplexed, huffing in disbelief and igniting a fire of curiosity inside him.

And you completely forgot about the Ddakji man as you made it to your little apartment, not knowing he would turn upside down your upcoming days.

…

Warm days in winter were exciting for you. They boosted your energy and made you want to be out all day.

You had the luck of living in a beautiful complex because it was once from a friend of your mother who married years ago and now had her single apartment for rent.

It had long warm hallways that hosted at least eight apartments by floor. With orange and pink subtle lights and uneven edges. It was truly a sight despite how little the apartments were. One bedroom with closet and bathroom, a tiny studio, small kitchen, enough space for a dining table, another small bathroom, and a half sized living room with balcony.

Your loneliness was well-balanced because you loved your home. But even on warm days, you wanted to be out.

Your red shoes contrasted with everything you stepped on. You carried a bag with a bunch of books and another one with thrifted clothes you bought.

At the park you always walked by, there was a fair amount of people as usual. You don’t care much to look around but someone makes you stare longer than needed.

The same man who asked if you wanted to play a game at the station was in the park. Another impeccable suit dressing him, looking attractive like the first time and already looking at you.

He offered you a smile, to which you didn’t reply. You looked at the ground, feeling like you had frozen.

What a weirdo, he offered bread and a random paper to a lonely man.

Simultaneously, you wondered if the man found you attractive enough to stare like that. With your mind that often became nihilistic, you thought you were delusional and that you should just keep walking.

His eyes remained glued to you. As his prey was thinking about what was better to choose, he contemplated you walking again.

The salesman realized he had made you nervous and that made him feel eager to end his job and follow you again.

Once he realized you lived in a good neighborhood, where his elegant suits matched the vibe, he got even more excited to see you again.

So now, was like it was meant to be.

How sweet, sophisticated, and innocent you looked.

Something shifted, as you passed by his side, only having a view of his back, you assumed he was worked out, his hair looked perfectly fine, and his big hands offered two things. Perhaps you had misjudged him and he really wanted to help. But your inner voice said otherwise. In a sudden change of events, you decided to look back once you were almost at the exit of the park.

With his deep gaze still set on you, your lips formed a smile.

And he took it as a first win in the games that had begun between you two.

…

Once again, you find yourself in the library. Inside one of the biggest malls you’ve been to, you are leaning at a counter, asking if they have an English translation of a book you were interested in.

Your Korean isn’t good enough yet, so as the nice librarian disappeared to find your request, you are working on your next reply, with a translation app.

“Do you recommend me this one?” your back arched as a startled reflex. You quickly stand straight and turn around to see the person you grew anxious to avoid and see again. The salesman is there, looking down at you with a perfectly orchestrated smile.

“Huh?” you ask disconcertingly, he shows you a book, his face looking like he had found a wounded little bird. But it was only you, startled and nervous by his strong presence.

The book is The Divine Comedy. Dante Alighieri.

“Certainly is a good one. A lot of heavenly justice…” you say trying to sound confident, looking at the cover of the book. Displaying the layers that separated heaven from hell. “Do you believe in heavenly justice?”

“I don’t know. We can’t call someone a sinner without a proper trial beforehand” he chuckles, which makes you frown for a second. He truly was unpredictable and you didn’t like that. “Ah, sinners. Always misjudged and harshly punished for being the ones who have the guts to make things…” his deep voice and tone made you wonder if he was self-perceived as a sinner, which made you feel worse.

“You sound like an ethnocentric…”

“I don’t think I’m far into that type of thinking, y/n” Your eyes almost popped out, leaving your hands in an anxious tremble.

“How is it possible that you know my name?” Before he can even answer, you add more. “You are stalking me”

His demonic smile makes your heart stop. The smile you once thought had innocence can’t blind you anymore. He isn’t innocent. He literally confirmed he was stalking you and you didn’t know how to feel.

“I don’t like the idea that conveys the word ‘stalking’. We can call it predestination…” you huff in disbelief. “What do you want with me?”

“I would like to get to know the woman who rejected my Ddakji offer. And ask for one more game” Your lips form a line, and quietly you are hating how much you are enjoying the conversation.

“Hmm, I’m bad at most games, so I’m afraid I will reject you once again” You turned back again to see if the librarian was coming when you felt him stepping closer, which made you feel nervous again.

“I might believe you. I always win…” he whispered in your ear, sending shivers through your spine and creating a lot of tension.

Your psycho mode almost made you lean forward again, daring to see if some friction was possible. But you didn’t, trying to be prudent and acting sane.

“I would’ve wanted a normal first interaction and this time you should’ve asked me out on a date. That’s how it works where I come from but… here, I guess not” he stepped aside as the librarian handed you the book. And as you thanked her and turned to leave and pay somewhere else, he took out a card and handed it to you.

“I’m sure we can work on some sort of arrangement. Here, you may call me…” slightly irritated that he didn’t say much about your inquiry, you snatched the card and walked away.

The cathartic feelings of wanting to keep talking to him and running away from him at the same time resulted in excruciating. It didn’t make sense, the point of him was to nowhere. Being clueless about his age, name, and everything made it feel wrong. Yet, curiosity was starting to burn you.

…

Like a miracle, the heavens moved and sprinkled some luck above you. You found some friends on campus, they spoke English like you and were foreigners as well. One of them was a friend of the owner of a club and invited you for the night.

The invitation made you forgetful about your salesman, whom you hadn’t talked with since the encounter in the library. The card he handed the last time rested between the book you bought the same day, making you unable to read more because it reminded you of the encounter with him.

It resulted unknown to you when was that your life had turned over the edge of becoming twisted. Your feelings for a mysterious man who seemed more accusable than appeared remained undecided.

He made you feel like a wildfire and a caged bird at the same time. Delicate but menacing.

He seemed older than you, professional in a field, mature and imposing. Which you didn’t mind when he appeared to ask you about The Divine Comedy. Either way, you were playing but couldn’t risk anything. Especially in a country where you didn’t know how everything worked.

After getting out of the shower, your thoughts on the salesman are completely faded. You slip on a sequin dress and paint your eyes with glitter and a smokey style.

Thereafter, at the club you let yourself go and have a wild night. Between classes, essays, and the issue with the salesman, you needed a time out.

Everything feels nice when you take a bathroom break and you smile at your reflection. You know you are close to being drunk, it’s the most enjoyable stage of ingesting alcohol.

“Hey, let’s go dancing, I couldn’t find you before!” Yells one of your friends after you reunite with the little group. You nod excitedly, taking her hand and letting her take you to the dance floor.

The music reminded you of that time when spinnin records were a trend and everyone played their mixes at parties back at home. As you move along the track, you don’t look at anything in particular, you just feel interesting and sexy. But your eyes end up giving a quick glance at one table, almost making you stop your euphoric moment.

You swore you saw your salesman.

Looking around you don’t see him, so you return dancing but the odd sensation in your chest doesn’t let you rest.

“What happens?” Asks another friend, looking worried.

“Nothing. Just thought I saw someone. Never mind…” you shake your head, smiling and convincing them that everything is fine.

But once they got more drunk, you walked out, despite curiosity, you wanted to confirm if the tall gorgeous man was near you.

Rarely you bring up to question your life decisions. Not because you thought you were perfect, but because you easily accepted your errors.

And it wasn’t hard to accept you completely messed up by getting out of the club. Where the night was colder, and some steps away from the main entrance, the crowd was loud. A man could be heard pleading and sobbing, which made you fearful but eager to see what was happening.

You peeked at the alley beside the club. A wave of shock flooded you once you noticed another man was punching the one who yelped and sobbed for forgiveness.

Your salesman was the attacker.

“Please! I’ll pay everything back!” Your mind raced back to the moment you spotted your salesman inside the club minutes ago.

His dark grey suit didn’t fit the aura of the place, but he seemed to be talking with the same man he was now punching.

It was obvious at that point that he wasn’t a good man. He made fun of making people play his seemingly innocent games to later laugh in the face whenever they lost. He was never flirting with you, the odd feeling of uncertainty you felt with him was right.

You had to go. You had to burn the card he gave you, avoid the station where you met him, and forget about his face.

There’s panic in your system, your heart beats fast and nausea starts coming up your throat.

You want to get immediately drunk and forget everything you saw with a hangover. You need it.

But you don’t get very far. Midway through the stairs that conduct to the club, a hand holds your forearm with extreme pressure and drags you inside a private room.

Your salesman finally found you.

…

“You just killed a man!” you almost yelled as soon as he pushed you inside and closed the door.

The room was very fancy like the club. It had a big desk near a window, flower-shaped hanging lamps, black sparkly floor tiles, and a sage velvet couch.

Your salesman slides his fingers through his hair and looks at the ceiling before turning to you. One hand still carrying the murder weapon.

“He deserved it” was all he answered and you take a breath. In need of an alibi, you opened a random fridge in the room and grabbed a beer. Your salesman watched how you sipped at the can. He knew you were feeling a mix of curiosity and disgust for him.

Once you drink at least half of the content, you sigh, brushing aside some hair and walking towards him.

“Who are you?” you ask pleadingly, desperate to know how far you’ve gone for him.

“Eventually you’ll know” he sounds cold, calculating, and menacing. “You didn’t call…”

He was taking advantage of your vulnerability.

“I met you a week ago, I don’t even know your name” you admit with shame and dissatisfaction.

For the first time, he genuinely touches you. Hands straight to your waist, making gasp in surprise.

“You’re smart and will eventually understand. You’re my good girl”

His good girl….

What was left to do when you have a sociopath holding your waist with the same hands he had used to kill a man? Play along, even if you are terrified.

What had been your horrified face, slowly ends up in a smirk, tilting your head, squandering cheekiness. “I’m not your good girl, sir”

He slowly leaned back, taking a seat on the sage couch, one of his hands going straight to rest behind his head, against the wall. He twirled the knife against his knee, making you uneasy, but confident about your upcoming words.

“If I walk away, you can’t do much with me, I’m a foreigner. Sure the authorities would dismantle whatever dirty job you’re into and that’s a big no-no” you explain, and feeling a little too bold, you step between his legs.

“Your lack of ignorance amazes me” he admits, offering you a cocky smile. “It makes me even more infatuated”

Your left knee pushed aside his hand twirling the knife. He remained still but sure seemed slightly surprised when you ended up straddling him. With your hands glued to his dark tie, putting it into place.

“Hmm, well, be careful. I am no threat, I barely have valuable skills to get rid of you but I know I could be a problem. So I guess I won, sir…” you allow yourself to smile, following a path with your fingers, from his tie to his cheeks and nose, softly tracing his pale skin.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart” You knew he was trying to be in control, and the best part was that you weren’t fighting for it.

“There’s a lot I might not understand. I’m just a girl who happened to be in this city for a temporary academic project” When your lips brushed his, you couldn’t deny he was so fucking hot, you wished he wasn’t so weird and probably part of a mafia or cult or whatever. “You are the grown-ass man who got obsessed with me”

“I just find you an odd but interesting player, sweet girl” he tried to use his innocent smile but it was useless when you grabbed him by the shoulders and finally dared to kiss him.

He controlled it the moment he touched you again. His hands had a possessive sting and firmly grabbed you by the hips. One of them still holding the knife.

Feeling bold, with adrenaline flowing freely, you softly bit his lower lip. You knew it was over when he almost let out a moan, and after checking he had his eyes closed, you literally jumped away from him.

Without looking back, you started running. Your clumsy steps turn frantic, knowing damn well he would start following you soon. As you literally start pushing people to get out, your heart beats faster than ever and you have a growing anxiety, begging you to stop and breathe.

Once the cold air hit you, as you took a cab and saw no sign of your salesman, confusion struck you and you saw the blood in your chest and arm.

“Are you alright, girl?” The driver asked, also watching your bleeding state.

“Yes, just an accident, I’m okay” he nods unsure, but starts driving after you give him your destination.

His knife must’ve sliced your skin when you stood up from his lap. When he moved one of his big hands to caress your chin.

It wasn’t that you were scared of him, of your salesman. Although you should be; but you weren’t. Could it be that the worst part was that you were attracted to him? Even after watching him kill a man? You were screwed.

You realize the reason why you always ran away from him is because you don’t know how to face his unpredictable demeanor.

At that point, you didn’t know what he wanted. Only that he was obsessed with you. But his intentions remained a mystery unsolved.

Before getting out of the cab, you pay and send your friends a message that you left early because you got a headache after vomiting. This didn’t happen, but would’ve been better to experience it as a young woman in her twenties.

…

When you opened the door, he was already inside. The worst part is that you weren’t surprised anymore. You only stood at the feet of the door, looking at him with uneasiness.

“You got me worried,” he says, stopping his movements around your table. “You left some blood stains and I thought it was serious”

“You accidentally showed me your true nature. A little bit of blood shouldn’t scare you” his shirt indeed had some bloody spots, his blazer was gone, and the sleeves of his messy shirt were rolled up. You hated that your first thought was that he looked very hot.

He moved and took a seat at one of your tables. He sighed and you realized that perhaps he was also screwed up. For letting himself go too far for you.

“I don’t regret any encounter we’ve had,” he says. “Me neither”

He can’t stop staring at your bloodstained dress and you notice.

Fuck everything, you thought.

I’m attracted to him, he’s attracted to me, What’s the worst thing that could happen? (I don’t want to know).

“Silly boy, look what you did to me,” you say looking at the soaked fabric.

Something possessed you at that moment. Your hands went straight to lift your dress. His eyes trailed your sparkly underwear, your lower belly, and your ribs that rose and fell as you breathed.

Your hands twirl behind your back to unhook your bra; also soaked, throwing it to the floor.

Your salesman is quiet, his innocent smile about to fall because you know you have taken him by surprise.

Likely you’ll get a scar. The would-be slightly deep, an uneven line that passed from your neck to your shoulder.

You step forward, confidently eyeing him.

“Clean it” he tried to stand up, probably to grab a med kit but you stopped him with your heel. “With your mouth. Lick it clean…”

He gulped.

His manspread became the only thing you could care about. How he eyed you with lust and possession for some seconds, and then to lean forwards.

Once again his hands landed on the curves of your hips and he made you step up, leaving him inches away from you.

Your sudden surgation grew and his hot tongue finally made contact with your skin.

You savored the feeling of his tongue, knowing he wouldn’t clean anything but the semi-dry blood over your breast. He was only making a mess.

Then, he lifts his head and catches your lips in a sullied kiss. The way he held you, made you understand how he always wanted control. Above anything.

“I will be gone within time. You can ruin me while it lasts…” you blurt out, panting for air.

“I’ll ruin you. But I don’t want to rip you apart. That’s pointless…” he admits in your lips, blood near your chin that he wipes out. “You’re the most fun I’ve had in years. My little toy…”

“Alright, I’ll be your toy” he nods, kissing you again. “Know that my lips are sealed when it comes to you”

“And you won’t have to worry about anything again…” you moan on his lips when he pulls your hair and finally makes you lay on your once new carpet, now displaying some splotches of blood.

“I don’t need your money”

“Don’t you want to make your mother proud and relieved from student debts? From rent?” You can’t think straight. “It’s not correct…”

“None of this is, y/n. Now shut your mouth and spread your legs, toy”

It’s wrong, immoral, a complete madness. You know everything will change once the night dies and the morning comes. But as much as you tried to communicate to him that you weren’t scared, you knew it was over, you’ve gotten too deep into his shit.

“Farewell to my purity” you whisper in his ear and it’s enough to make his eyes turn darker, full of lust.

Everything that consoles purity would be gone from you. And the fact that you were ready scared you. But once his hands started meeting places across your body, you welcomed the sin.

As well as your mind seized thinking. Not caring about the consequences.

_______________________________________________

If you ask for more I will provide

Quién me manda a escribir estas mamadas? I’m just ovulating.

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 9

Series Summary: In order to save money for law school, you accept a job working as a maid for high end clients. You aren’t supposed to know whose home you’re cleaning, but your curiosity is peaked by your first client, and when the two of you have a shocking and surprising run in more than just your curiosity peaks.  Word Count: 5k CW: see small red lettering below the cut AN: I'm going to miss them!! I'm absolutely heartbroken that I'm done, but so fucking proud of myself for what I've created. Thank you to @lotusbxtch for being my beta from pretty much the very beginning. I am so grateful to you and so honoured (yes, with a u because I'm Canadian lol) to call you my friend. Also little shoutouts to @for-a-longlongtime, @alltheirdamn, @mermaidgirl30 and @littlevenicebitch69 for listening to me go on about them for 80% of 2024. As always, graphics and dividers by @saradika-graphics

My Masterlist || Series Masterlist

TW: unprotected p in v, one spank, multiple orgasms and Overstim hinted at, pining, heartbreak

Eight Months Later

Joel

“I got yelled at by a feisty brunette last night at that gala,” Tommy says as the two of them sip whiskey at the bar of the club. 

“Probably deserved it.” Joel deadpans and closes the folder of invoices he’s looking over.

He should be doing this in his fancy, and newly renovated, office across the street. He was in the large office for all of three minutes the day after you left when he could only see the ghost of you. From the chair you sat in when you first asked him to teach you how to be a sub, to the door he pinned you against and confessed how out of his mind he was over you, everything was you, and it had to go if he had any chance of following what you needed from him. Joel hasn’t even been in his room at the club out of the fear of what it would do to him. Would I still be able to smell the lavender of her shampoo in there? Still be able to hear her beautiful cries of pleasure and pain bouncing off the walls?

“She thought I was you,” Tommy says, glancing over at his brother and interrupting Joel’s impending spiral.

Joel sighs, slipping his reading glasses from his face before taking a long pull of the amber liquor from his crystal glass. Tommy looks straight ahead as he continues.

“She’s doing great, by the way. Or at least that’s what her friend said when she was scolding me.”

 Joel winces at his words, “Of course she is, Tommy.” Even though it's been almost a year since you left, just the mention of you rips his barely-mended heart back in half. It doesn’t seem to matter how much time passes, he still feels like he did in his kitchen. 

The very fibers of his being ache just as hard for you now as they did then. He longs to see you and touch you, to feel your warm, soft skin under his hands again. Anyone before you was always, ‘Yes, Mister Miller,’ even when they weren’t in a scene; but not you. You weren’t afraid to be curious and unapologetically yourself. He hasn’t laughed as hard with anyone, including Tiffany, as he did with you. But the part that he misses the most is the way you look at him the first time you see him. Your eyes soften, velvety pink lips parting slightly before they curl into a smile that makes his heart hammer behind his ribs. Then, he watches your shoulders relax and it makes him feel like he hung the moon and stars for you, and if he could have, he would have.  

He clears his throat and then rasps, “She’s too smart to not be doing well.”

Tommy stands, bringing his hands to rub at Joel's shoulders. He squeezes his tense deltoid muscles and with a hint of mischief in his voice he says, “Lots of pretty girls here tonight if you feel like moving on.”

Joel shakes his head and pulls away from Tommy’s grasp with a grunt. “Never gonna happen. Get outta here before you get yelled at two nights in a row.”

“Just too bad for me that you aren’t a hot brunette,” Tommy says with a laugh.

“I have brown hair,” Joel replies defensively, running his fingers through the grown out curls. 

“Not to kick you when you’re down, but it’s mostly grey at this point.”

Joel holds up a single finger at Tommy over his shoulder as he laughs and walks away. 

Two and a half years later

You

You’ve been up to your eyeballs in studying as you prepare for your finals. These last few years in California have been the hardest yet most fulfilling time of your life. Two nights in a row now, you’ve fallen asleep in the library, only waking when your Spotify would switch from the white noise playlist you use to help you focus, to your “getting ready” playlist. After dragging yourself to your dorm room in the dead of the night, you’d get a few restless hours of sleep before heading right back to your favourite studying spot. You can’t believe that in just a few short weeks you’ll be graduating and stepping into the life you’ve always envisioned for yourself.

The unmistakable FaceTime jingle fills your AirPods. Jamie’s name is splayed across the screen of your phone, along with a photo of the two of you at Albany Beach when she visited this past Christmas break. You put your highlighter down and slide the answer toggle over. 

“Hey!” She says, her warm smile shining up at you. You squint, trying to place where she is. You don’t often let yourself think of Joel, but the cracks across your screen make FaceTiming difficult, and the selfish side of you always wishes you had grabbed that new phone before you left. Your head cocks to the side; broken screen or not, you don’t recognize the background.

“Where are you?” You ask.

“Oh, I’m good, thanks. How are you?” She jests with a mocking eye roll.  “I’m at a cabin.”

“What cabin?” You say, glaring at her jokingly. A deep laugh comes from the otherside of the phone and your eyes widen. “Who’s that?”

The man's voice comes from offscreen, “I can’t believe you thought she wouldn’t ask where you were. She’s going to be a lawyer, for god's sake.”

“Jamie, who is that? What is going on here? Blink twice if you need rescuing!” You joke. 

Jamie blushes, looking over the phone at whoever that voice is coming from. “I just wanted to call to see how the studying is going, and to let you know that I got the graduation tickets.”

A glass of white wine appears in front of Jamie and she smiles before puckering her lips in a kissing motion towards the man in the room with her. “Ok, seriously, who the fuck is that and where are you?”

“I was also calling to let you know that Laren can’t make it anymore and Odette is in New York,” she takes a small sip of her wine.

“Oh, well that’s ok,” you say, trying to squash the disappointment and hoping it doesn’t show in your voice or face. You wished that at least two of your three best friends would be there for you. “It can just be me and you, baby!” 

“Well…I’m wondering if I could maybe bring my boyfriend? Might be a good opportunity for you two to meet.”

“What? What boyfriend?” You say, officially abandoning all study materials until you get some answers. Jamie raises a perfectly manicured finger and calls the mystery man over. 

You swallow hard as Tommy Miller appears beside her. 

Jamie glances up at him, her bright green eyes full of admiration, his mirroring hers. The starry look in their eyes tells you everything you need to know; they’re so far gone for that even a search and rescue team wouldn’t be able to save them. She looks back at you. “Meet again, I guess.”

You try to push for answers, but either of them give in, claiming you need to focus on finals. Before you hang up, Jamie promises to tell you the entire story when you see each other next. You’re happy for your friend, especially seeing the way Tommy looked back at her. Even through your cracked screen you could see the love, but as you try to go back to studying you have a hollow feeling in your stomach.

Graduation Day

You

The late afternoon sun fills your dorm room, boxes of your belongings stacked haphazardly around you. After walking the stage tonight, you are going out to dinner with Jamie and Tommy, and then he has paid for a hotel suite so the two of you can have a girls’ night. You can’t wait to hear how Tommy went from, in Jamie’s previous words, “my dad’s new asshole friend” to her boyfriend. 

You step in front of your floor length mirror, zipping up the black graduation gown over your knee length, form fitting, deep emerald velvet dress. The California sun has been good to you, your tanned legs and sunkissed nose and cheeks are glowing. You place your blue and yellow Berkeley Law stole over your head and then grab your cap, ensuring the ‘Class of ‘28’ tassel is secure. You fluff your curls one last time as a light knock comes from your door. 

“Ready to graduate, gorgeous?” Ronan smiles at you, eyes trailing down your gown. He’s the type of handsome that’s almost painful to look at, but more importantly - you wouldn’t have made it through these last three years without him. You met the first day - the lock on your door wasn’t working, and he waltzed in on you half naked when he mistook your room as his. 

You smile at him in your doorway now; remembering the way you screamed at him that first time, trying to cover your chest, and him scrambling to close the door. His eyes were clamped shut, and he slammed his finger so hard that you had to take him for stitches. Now, several years later, he fills out his graduation gown perfectly with those wide rugby shoulders, a sight you couldn’t even have imagined back then. Whichever angel made him didn’t make a single mistake - he’s tall and insanely broad, with dark sandy blonde hair, and clover green eyes that in the right light are a golden hazel. He’s easily one of the smartest men you’ve ever met and an incredible athlete. The cherry on top, because of course there’s more: he’s an international student and has a panty-melting Irish accent. 

“Beyond ready. Let's become lawyers, babe.”

He steps aside, one arm out in a ‘ladies first’ gesture. Handsome, charming, and thoughtful - a dangerous trifecta. You slide your hand in the crook of his muscle-lined arm and walk across campus together.

Ronan jerks his head towards the coffee cart. “Remember when you spilled your entire coffee on your new puffer jacket?”

You glare up at him, you saved for weeks to buy that jacket. “No, but I remember you throwing up in that trash can after the Halloween party last year.” 

“Well, if Beach Party Barbie had helped Lifeguard Ken with all those shots we wouldn’t have had that problem, would we?” You laugh as Ronan puffs out his chest, but you both know he was more than willing to take your half of the ‘Best Couples Costume' shots. 

Finally, you reach the courtyard where the law students will be walking across a stage that acts as the symbolic bridge to the rest of their lives. I’m a lawyer, you think to yourself and try to force a smile. The magnitude of the day only really starts to sink into your bones as you see the friends and families of your classmates start to take their seats. The excited feeling you had earlier starts to morph. You’re proud of yourself for what you’ve done these last three years, and this was just the first step. You have so much to look forward to, so why do you feel a sense of dread building in the pit of your stomach? 

Ronan walks you to where you need to line up alphabetically, kissing your cheek and then, after leaning in and placing his large hand on your lower back, he whispers a joke about how you better not trip. You glance around the thick crowd for Jamie and Tommy. After realizing it’s hopeless to try and spot them in a group this large, you slip your cap over your hair and get in the procession line. 

You try to soak in every minute of the day, from the speeches to the birds chirping in the background, but something akin to loss flutters at the base of your spine. You’re just as sad to be leaving Berkely as you are excited to carve out your future. Leaving here isn’t what’s causing you to feel this way, however. You try to tell yourself that maybe it’s just nerves; even with all the job offers coming in from your internships, it’s normal to be nervous about what comes next. 

As the student union president gives his toast to the family and friends, you look down at your lap, pushing back the cuticle on your left thumb. Maybe it’s leaving Ronan. He’s been an anchor for you, grounding you almost every day of the last three years and you don’t know how you let yourself become this dependent on anyone, especially a man, again.  

You shake your head at yourself and try to move your focus to the cuticle on your other thumb. Seeing the skin clean from the nail bed eases the tension slightly for you. ‘I’m allowed to be nervous when leaning on people, but not everyone will leave me,’ you recite almost automatically in your mind, the mantra you’ve had these past few years whenever you feel yourself getting this anxious. Just as you finish the thought, a car revs in the distance and the realization of what - or who - you’re actually missing slams through you so hard that you almost feel winded. Your lungs ache, tears pushing behind your eyes as his name rings loudly through your mind.  

Joel.

You kept yourself busy since the minute you left Austin. The busier you were, the less time you had to focus on the void in your heart. During the school year, you didn’t have to find things to stay busy with; law school nearly chewed you up and spit you out. Over the summers, you worked as an intern and visited your friends. There was never a quiet moment, never too much time alone with your thoughts, and it was better this way. You can confidently say that you’d only thought of Joel six times since you walked out of his house that day: when you fell asleep on the beach and were so sunburnt you could barely move for three days; when you failed your first test; when your rusted SUV, that acted as your ticket to freedom at eighteen, died on the freeway in rush hour (from that point on you had to rely on public transportation to get you to the homes you cleaned). When you experienced your first earthquake; when you stayed up for forty-two hours straight after your partner in a group project didn’t have their side of the work done; and, lastly, this past New Year’s Eve when you were in Austin and thought you saw him at a party. 

“Is he here?”, that little box of feelings that you shut away in a vault long ago wonders. “Has anything changed for him in the last three years?” 

The small smile that pulls at your cheeks, and the excited flutter of your heart when you think about the possibility of seeing him again, proves that maybe nothing has changed for you. As the minutes tick by, your mind races with all the possible scenarios for after the ceremony. What if he is here? What will you say? What will he say? How will Ronan react, you know he has strong feelings about what happened between you and Joel. Even worse though, what if he’s not here? But maybe he’s at the hotel where Tommy and Jamie are staying?  

Before you know it, your row is standing and walking single file towards the stage. With each strike of your high-heeled strappy sandals against the concrete, a memory of Joel floods your system. The toast he made you in his kitchen, the kiss in that dimly lit hallway on your birthday, the way he walked you through his club and how calmly he talked about you being in charge before going into the voyeur room. The multitude of orgasms he gave you within the four walls of his private room. Him singing on the small stage of the dive bar you found, followed by him spanking you right there in the bathroom with his hand clamped to your face to keep you quiet. His strong hand grasping your thigh as he drove you to his house. The way he tasted on your tongue. The smell of his skin: all ash and leather, occasionally mixed with whiskey or mint. The feel of his body: hard, broad and hot. His shuddered breaths as he confessed so many things in so few words. 

‘It’s only you, sweet girl.’

‘Just call me Joel.’

‘I know, and I’m so proud of you, sweet girl.’

You carefully walk up the stairs, forcing the thoughts of Joel from your mind, just in time to hear your name announced as a graduate of Berkeley Law. You float across the stage, grabbing the piece of paper that acts as your degree until the real one comes, shaking the hand of the Dean who flips your tassel before you walk to the stairs on the other side; the stairs that symbolize the ending of your time here and the beginning of the rest of your life. 

As you reach the top of the steps, you look out into the audience and see Jamie. She pumps her fist in the air and before you can process the empty seat beside her, you feel it; a strong tug from behind your navel. It takes you less than a heartbeat to find him and the sight before you floods your body with a familiar warmth. Standing under a large tree at the edge of the audience, dressed in all black, and holding his Stetson hat to his heart, is Joel. For the first time in years you feel whole again.

 You keep your gaze on him, worried that if you so much as blink that he’ll be gone. You are supposed to follow your classmates, but you veer left, walking towards Joel. The closer you get, the more at ease you feel. He’s real, you think, he’s here. You stop a foot or so in front of him. 

“Hi, Freckles,” he whispers, his voice cracking slightly. His eyes dance around your face, almost as if he’s trying to memorize this moment. You can’t help but wonder if he’s feeling exactly how you are.   

“Hi, Sweet Cheeks,” you say, the same tremble in your voice, as you try desperately to hold it together. “You’re here.”

He nods and you give him a tight-lipped smile as your mind races. There’s so much you want to say, but now that he’s standing right there in front of you after three years, you don’t know where to start. 

Joel breaks the silence, jutting his chin in the direction of the other graduates as he says, “I saw you come in with your boyfriend. When I saw you kiss, I was going to leave, but I made you a promise.”

You knit your eyebrows together and take a step closer. “Boyfriend?”

“The man you walked over here with,” Joel says, his black Stetson sliding down the chest you so desperately want to touch as he drops his hands to his sides. He’s left no barriers between the two of you except the heartbreak that’s evident on his face. 

You laugh quietly, “No, he’s - that’s Ronan.”

Joel nods. “Okay.”

“He’s my friend,” you clarify, and when Joel’s face stays the same, you add, “And he’s still as gay as the day we first met!”

Joel lets out a whoosh of a breath and closes the distance between the two of you, his free hand comes to one of your curls, twirling the end of it around his thick fingers. Soft and silky meets rough and calloused. “I’m so proud of you, Freckles.”

You don’t miss how he watches your tongue dart between your lips, “Thank you.”

“So? How does it feel?” He gives you a soft crooked smile, his dimple carving into the short facial hair of his salt and pepper beard. Between that smile, and the way his brown eyes wash over you, you’re overcome with affection. He let you go. He did exactly as you asked him. He didn’t chase you or try to convince you to stay. You told him if he really loved you, then he’d do exactly this; and in turn, he did what he said he would. 

He showed up. 

“I love you,” you state and the air between you turns electric, almost like this moment could either set you both aflame or act as a generator for your future together. Joel gives you that look, the one that makes you feel like you’re the center of his universe. He lets the curled end of your hair slip from his fingers, reaching up towards your graduation cap but hesitating.

“May I?” He rasps and swallows hard.

You nod, and knowing exactly what he’s going for, you take the Stetson from his other hand and place it on your head after he removes your cap. The brim of it blocks out everything but the two of you.

“Say that again, sweet girl,” he murmurs.

“I love you,” it’s barely a whisper this time. “Even after three years apart, you are everything to me. I asked you to let me go so I could accomplish this, and you did. You’ve always done what I asked, what I needed. I’m not sorry for what happened between us, but I am sorry that I missed out on getting to spend the last three years with you looking at me how you are now. I love you, Joel Miller.”

He brings his lips within a breath of yours, and your body practically vibrates with the knowledge that if you leaned just a bit forward, you’d finally have his mouth on you again. You can almost taste the mint on his tongue as the familiar fragrance of ash and leather surround you. “I have dreamed of hearing those three words leave your beautiful lips more times than I can count, baby. You’re it for me. I’ll do anything for you, even if it means breaking my own heart, but I’m always going to be here for you, rooting for you and encouraging you. I’m glad you’re not sorry, because I’m not, I’m so fucking proud of you. I love you, too, my sweet girl.”

Finally, he presses his warm, firm lips against yours while pulling you tight to his body. You wrap an arm around his neck, holding the black cowboy hat against your head with your other hand. It doesn’t matter that the ceremony isn’t done, or that there are hundreds of people to your right. For the first time in three years, everything goes quiet. He hums contentedly and you feel yourself melt against him, tilting your head so he can deepen the kiss. He parts his lips, letting you take the first swipe of your tongue against his. Need floods your system, and based on the way he grinds into you, he’s feeling the same. 

He breaks the kiss, but doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours. “Take me home,” you practically purr.

“Where do you want home to be? I’ll go anywhere,” Joel rasps, running his nose down the bridge of yours. 

“Austin,” you respond, your breath catching as his lips ghost along the side of your mouth.

“I sold my portion of the club to Tommy and Tess. I don’t have anything holding me in Austin anymore, sweet girl. If you have a job offer you really want, that’s where we’ll go.” You pull back to look at him. You can tell by the set of his jaw that he’s serious. 

“I want to go to Austin. I have a job offer there.”

“Good thing I told Tommy not to touch my room at the club then.”

“That’s a very good thing,” you moan and then pull him in to kiss again. The audience behind you erupts into cheers, celebrating the accomplishments of every student in that crowd. 

You’re a lawyer, and suddenly, the future doesn’t seem so scary.

Joel

Taking you home to Austin that night unfortunately wasn’t an option. After finding Jamie in the crowd, and being formally introduced to Ronan, he called the car to pick up the three of you. You all met Tommy at the restaurant, celebrating with all the expensive homemade pasta and overpriced wine that you wanted; even though seeing you in that curve-hugging velvet dress was slowly killing him. Joel had kept at least one hand on you since seeing you again, and he doesn’t plan on changing that anytime soon. 

He didn’t want to rush you on your big night, so he waited patiently, listening to you tell stories of your last three years, and revelling in the evident joy that you and Jamie share over being together again. When dessert comes around he catches Tommy’s attention and gives him a small smile. It’s fitting that the two brothers, who have been so close their entire lives, would fall in love with best friends. 

Once in his room, he spent two hours stripping you down at an almost painfully slow pace. He kissed every inch of your skin twice over and has pulled five orgasms, and counting, out of you so far. 

Now, Joel is seated in the wide velvet arm chair in the corner of his hotel suite. His cock is buried deep inside of your tight cunt as you straddle him. Your skin feels like butter under his hands as he trails them along your back and the globes of your perfect ass. He’s missed tying you up, but this is what he longed for: the earth shattering intimacy he feels with you in these moments.   

“Please,” you mumble into his neck, desperate to move your hips.

“Not until you answer me,” he demands softly. “How many times was it that you needed me, but were too stubborn to reach out?”

Earlier tonight you told him about the six times you really needed him. He’d kissed you softly after each confession, returning the trust with a time he needed you. After the last one, he’d pulled back to look at you with dark eyes. He’d hated that you needed him and he couldn’t be there. He’d clenched his back molars twice before he said you’d be denied six orgasms the next time you were at the club, but tonight you have permission to come as often as you need to. 

He swats your already reddened ass cheek and your pussy flutters as you cry out. “Mister Miller, stop. Please, just let me move.”

“Do you need to use your safeword?”

“No,” you respond with a pout. 

“How many times?” He says again through gritted teeth, even though already knows the answer. 

“Six,” you sob. 

He tuts and then growls, “That doesn’t sound like my good girl, does it?”

You shake your head against his throat and moan a sound of disagreement.

“Do you want to come for me again?”

“Yes, Mister Miller. Please!”

He trails his fingers up and down your back again, the thin sheen of sweat on your skin makes it easy for him to caress you. He smiles to himself at the shiver that racks through your body at his touch. You react so beautifully to him. “Yeah? You wanna grind your swollen little clit on my piercing, baby girl?”

“Please,” you whine again, stretching out all the vowels in the word.

“Show me. Ride my cock, take what you need.” 

You lift your head from the crook in his neck and pull back slightly, rocking your hips back and forth; a sultry laugh leaves his lips at your eagerness. You look at him with hooded eyes, hair stuck to your forehead. His eyes trail down your neck to the bruises he sucked into your collar bone earlier and then to your breasts; both of which are covered in his marks. He watches the little gold nipple clamps, and the chain that connects them, bounce with each flick of your hips. 

“That’s it, sweet girl. You look like a goddess, my goddess. Who do you belong to?”

“I’m yours, baby,” you say through shallow breaths. He pulls at the chain and you cry out in pain. “S-sorry, Mister Miller.”

“Again, sweet girl. Tell me who you belong to.”

“Oh fuck, y-you, Mist -” his hands come to your face and when he whispers your name the rest of your sentence dies on your tongue.

“Just call me Joel.” The commanding voice of his alter ego is gone as he says it. 

Your hips slow, changing from a frantic back and forth to a sensual swirling motion. “I’m yours, Joel. Forever.”

He kisses you softly, a silent telling of how vulnerable he is at this moment. “Don’t ask me to let you go ever again.”

The smile you give him causes his heart to skip, “I won’t.”

“You might, sweet girl. I won't survive it if you do, so I’m going to remind you of this moment as often as possible for the rest of my life. Remind you how much you’re loved and supported. You’re mine, Freckles.” Your hips swirl and he feels you tighten up around him. “Come for me, my sweet girl.” 

“Fuck, fuck, Joel!” It’s a cry and moan all at once. 

“I’m here, it’s ok, baby.” With that, your body shudders and you fall into him as you shatter. Your pussy clenches and releases rapidly around his length. His cock twitches, and once he can’t hold it anymore he relaxes, letting his orgasm rock through him in time with yours.

“I’m yours, too,” he gasps as he melts into you.

The End

Coming Soon:

Curious how Jamie ended up with her "dads new asshole friend?"

Part 2 of the BDSMaid Trilogy coming mid 2025!

Also, stay tuned for the epilogue for Joel and Sweet Girl.

[wormdebut]

STEDDIE MICROFIC JANUARY — NEW YEARS REVELATIONS

@steddiemicrofic | Word: New | Word Count: 517 | Rated: T | CW: Steve is a pining mess

——

“Has it ever crossed your mind, that you might just—like him?”

Steve couldn’t hide the cringe. His shoulders twitched—

“Ew, Robin.”

“Don’t Ew, me, Harrington. I don’t mean to burst your weird little bubble here but every day you complain about Eddie Munson is another day I have to watch you, pining after him.” Robin Buckley is tired.

Robin Buckley is insane.

“Ew, Robin!” Steve yelps. Tossing the blanket off his bed to slap at her shoulders. Fuck this shit.

“I’m serious, Steve. I think it’s time that maybe—perhaps—you consider—that maybe you’re into men.”

Steve can’t help but scoff. “Well, no shit Rob. Of course I’m into men. That’s not fucking new. It’s not men that are the problem—it’s him.”

Robin’s eyes go wide. “Well, shit, Steve. This revelation is pretty damn new to me!”

Steve tries to stop his eyes rolling to the back of his head—he really does.

“Oh come on, Robbie. I’m me. Is this ‘revelation’ really all that shocking.”

“I—“ Robin sighs. “Yeah, well. It always kinda has made sense hasn’t it?” She can’t help but laugh. “But why is Ed—“

Steve cuts her off. “Don’t.”

She laughs again, “Oh, come on, Steven. You just came out to me at ten at night on a Tuesday in January. God forbid I say Eddie Munson’s name.”

“Ew, Robin!” Steve couldn’t handle this. Really he couldn’t.

Her laughing was getting out of control now.

“Oh my god! Your blushing! This is even crazier than the fucking demogorgons!”

“Robin!”

——

It doesn’t go away.

His stupid feelings for stupid—him—don’t go away and it’s getting harder to hide.

Steve’s watching Eddie prep for a show.

A rock show.

The world can end several times, that’s not shocking. No.

But Eddie Munson and his stupid band getting weird underground street cred because he is some sort of hellspawn, devil child that survived the earthquake of ‘86?

That’s shocking.

And it’s hot as hell.

This is not good. This is awful . Eddie Munson is terrible for Steve’s health.

Fuck it. It’s a new year and he had survived the world nearly ending several times.

So he had a raging boner for Eddie Munson.

Whatever.

——

Steve was dazed. Turns out the underground hellspawn music circuit knew their shit.

Corroded Coffin was incredible.

Eddie Munson was hot.

And Steve Harrington was absolutely fucked.

“As I live and breathe, Stevie baby! You came to see me.” Eddie popped up out of nowhere, sweaty, eyes wide, clearly buzzing with adrenaline—and sweaty.

Steve swallows. Is it hot in here? “Uh—yeah. You were hot—I mean, the band was hot—great—good. You guys were good.” What the fuck? What the actual fuck? Get a grip.

Eddie smirks—and Steve is fine, thank you.

“Ohoho—Do you think I’m pretty, Stevie?” Eddie winks, and he’s so close and so sweaty and—you know what?

Yeah—Fuck yeah.

“And if I did?” Steve asks, chill, suave, cool as a cucumber—his hands are not shaking. He’s totally fine.

Eddie’s smirk softens—just a little— “Then I’d say you and I should get out here, no?”

Steve nods. Fuck it. He’s trying something new.

[demonic0angel]

Prolonged ecto contamination can cause regenerative abilities. This is great when something important is stabbed or a limb is lost. But for other things, not so much.

“Daddy,” A five year old cried, “somethings wrong with mommy!”

Jason ran to his and his wifes room. He stopped by the door, taking in Jazz's tense still frame perched on the edge of their bed. She gazed at a small cylinder object cluched in her hands.

"Jazz?" Jason called.

She slowly lifted her gaze to him and turned the object around, revealing two pink lines.

"Is-is that an old one?" Jason stammered.

Jazz moved her head to side to side.

"Defective?"

"I've done ten of them, all the same."

But, but that couldn't be. Jason mentally floundered. After a failed vasectomy resulting in kid numer six and then a failed tube tying causeing baby number seven, Jazz had a hysterectomy.

Jason opened his mouth to address this but then remembered that their kids were in the room. It wouldn't be good for kids to witness their parents having a meltdown over a positive pregnancy test. Or discuss a possible lawsuit against a certain hospital and surgeon.

Switching gears, Jason called to his kids, "Come on tribe! To the living room for a movie."

"What about Mommy?" the five year old protested.

"Don't worry," Jason scooped up his kid and pecked her forehead. "Your dad got this," he said with way more confidence than he felt.

(OML I LITERALKY FUCKING ROLLED WHEN I SAW THIS ASK ASDFGHHKLLL THIS IS SO FUNNY BC IN MY ORIGINAL IDEAS ABIUT ANGER MANAGEMENT, THEY HAVE 5 KIDS)

Jazz stared at him blankly. Jason stared back. They both stared at each other. Then he admitted, “I don’t think I got this.”

Thank goodness their oldest, Elinor, was able to understand and distract all of her siblings. Now it was just Jason, Jazz, and their Ancient ghost dog alone to discuss what to do next.

Jazz continued staring at him, holding Shadow in her arms before she said, “Y’know, we could….”

“Don’t even start,” he said in exasperation. While he would always give her the choice, he knew that none of them would actually genuinely consider it.

She sighed. “I know. I want it anyways. It’s mine. It’s our baby.”

Her possessiveness was so cute. Jason reached over to hug her, squeezing her gently and placing his chin on her head. It was a bit difficult due to her height, but she hunched over to tuck herself into his arms, so it was a little easier.

“We’ll handle it. Together, like always. It’s not like we’re lacking in money anyways. And we have plenty of rooms and we can get help from our support groups. I can take another break from being Red Hood and you’ve never stopped your online therapy sessions, so I think we can do this.”

Jazz sighed, nodding before she suddenly groaned aloud and used a fist to hit Jason’s chest. Jason blinked. “What?”

“You know what my siblings call me?! They call Miss Weasley! At this rate, we’ll have a football team by the time we’re done!”

Jason tried not to laugh but a twitch must’ve alerted Jazz to his amusement because she looked up at him and glared. Shadow growled lightly on her lap. She scolded, “You’re giving the news to our families again. And I won’t stop Dan from trying to kill you this time.”

“Even if it makes you a single mother to 7 kids?” Jason asked idly.

Jazz paused and then she cursed softly. Jason snorted into her shoulder before Jazz then said, “I think after this, we’re using condoms again.”

Horrified, Jason lifted his head up and stared at her in disbelief and shocked horror. “What!”

“Jason! We have 7 kids now! Can I please get a break!”

Jason groaned, long and loud. Then he sighed, rubbing Jazz’s sides in faux sadness as he bemoaned, “Fine… since I love you so much… I’ll wear protection next time…”

Jazz pinched his cheek with a little narrowed eye stare and smile, shaking lightly but she said, “Thank you, dearest. We’ll handle this together, alright? It won’t be easy, but we’ve done this six times before, we can do this a seventh time. I think I should ask Dan how he does it…” she mumbled more plans to herself, as Jason just held her, closing his eyes.

If his past self was ever told that he’d have a wife and seven kids, he was sure that he’d probably snitch to the cops that someone was hallucinating.

Not that he’d ever trade this for the world, of course.

[mononijikayu]

araw – araw — gojo satoru.

You smiled, tired but radiant, and beckoned him closer. "Satoru." you whispered, your voice soft and full of emotion. "Come meet your son." He approached, his heart pounding in a way no battle or curse had ever caused. As he looked down at the small, fragile life wrapped in the softest of blankets, his breath caught in his throat. You gently placed Satoshi in his arms, and the world seemed to still. "He’s perfect." Satoru couldn’t help but murmur, his usually excited voice tender filled with quiet awe and wonder. "You’re amazing, you really are." Tears pricked at the corners of his cerulean eyes as he looked back at you, the love and gratitude in his gaze almost overwhelming. "This… this is the best birthday gift anyone could ever give me."

GENRE: post hidden - post inventory arc (2010s)

WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, mention of pregnancy, depiction of the aftermath of birth, depiction of parenthood, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

WORD COUNT: 4.2k

NOTE: i wanted to write today because it's genmei (you)'s birthday. you in this story were born on january 10th, 1986 - a few years older than satoru!!! there's only a month distance between satoru, megumi, satoshi and your birthday - so the household is always fun like that. oh and the card, megumi and tsumiki wrote thank you mom on the card!!! please listen to this song a lot too, opm is really great!!! i hope you enjoy this a lot like i did. i love you so much!!! see you on the next one <3

masterlist

u s and t h e m

if you want to, tip! <3

IT'S INTERESTING THAT THIS IS THE FIRST TIME HE COULDN’T FIND A GOOD PLAN. But it was true, this is the first conundrum he’s ever had to face in his life. Gojo Satoru doesn't think he's ever been good at not knowing how to do this before.

He's managed to face down curses that could obliterate cities, stood toe-to-toe with some of the most formidable foes in the world, and always come out on top. 

But he supposed that he will only ever be undone by you. Perhaps it was always the case ever since he’s met you. That was as inevitable as falling in love with you. Everything was going to be a challenge. And he loved that. Because he loved you. 

As he stands in the quiet of the early morning, he finds himself completely at a loss as he takes in the silence of the brightening dawn. He sighed tenderly as he found himself stopping his cerulean gaze right in front of him—you. 

You were still comfortably fast asleep, with soft breaths escaping your tender lips, you looked peaceful despite the exhaustion etched on your face. Just the way he likes it. Much more so nowadays, knowing how tired you’ve been. 

You were a new mother. And being a new mother, it was a lot of work. Even if you took turns taking care of the little treasure you brought into the world, Satoru knows that you work harder than he ever will.

He knows you stayed up all night keeping Satoshi asleep, cradling your son in your arms whenever he stirred.  And just as much, you also keep up to date with Megumi and Tsumiki, no matter what happens. 

Of course, he would tell you off so that you would continue on your bed rest or continue about taking as much time to heal as possible. But you couldn’t help it. This has been your entire life for almost half a decade.

You like being involved with everything. But Satoru worries, he always does. He can’t help it. He was just as much a father as he was a husband. You gave him everything that’s good in his life. And he means it. 

Yet now this leaves him in a conundrum.

How the hell could he top this gift of a lifetime?

How can he equate this gift on your birthday?

It was only a month ago, on his birthday, when you handed him the most precious gift in the world: your newborn son, Satoshi. The memory of that day is etched vividly in Gojo Satoru’s mind, a moment he revisits often, especially in the quiet hours of the night when the world is asleep, and it’s just the two of you and little Satoshi.

He remembers the soft glow of the hospital room, the way your bright eyes shimmered with a mix of exhaustion and pure joy as you gently cradled the tiny bundle of life, a life that both of you created, a life you had risked heaven and earth for, lay tenderly quiet in your arms.

Satoru had entered the room, his usual confident stride slightly hesitant, his light blue gaze locked onto you. The second his eyes met yours, he felt something shift deep within him—a kind of warmth he had never known before. One that he never thought he’d ever feel.

You smiled, tired but radiant, and beckoned him closer. "Satoru." you whispered, your voice soft and full of emotion. "Come meet your son."

He approached, his heart pounding in a way no battle or curse had ever caused. As he looked down at the small, fragile life wrapped in the softest of blankets, his breath caught in his throat. You gently placed Satoshi in his arms, and the world seemed to still.

"He’s perfect." Satoru couldn’t help but murmur, his usually excited voice tender filled with quiet awe and wonder. "You’re amazing, you really are."

Tears pricked at the corners of his cerulean eyes as he looked back at you, the love and gratitude in his gaze almost overwhelming. "This… this is the best birthday gift anyone could ever give me."

In that moment, Satoru realized what it truly meant to be loved and to love in return. Holding Satoshi close, he silently vowed to protect and cherish his family with every ounce of his being. That day, his life changed forever, not because of his immense power or the battles he fought, but because of the tiny life in his arms and the incredible person who had given it to him.

Now, as he watches you sleep, that memory fuels his determination to make your birthday just as unforgettable. You had given him the world, and now it was his turn to make sure you felt just as cherished, just as loved. But still, what could he do that could equate to that? What could ever be enough to make your birthday just as special?

Satoru could only sigh quietly, scratching the back of his head, as he gazed at you lovingly. How could he possibly top that devoted act of yours? How could he make your birthday as special as you made his?

His clear mind races with ideas, but none of them feel good enough. With a quiet determination, he stands up, stretching carefully to avoid waking you, his joints softly popping in the stillness of the room.

When he finishes, he tiptoes over to the crib where your little son, Satoshi, sleeps peacefully. The soft moonlight filtering through the curtains casts a gentle glow over the room, highlighting the delicate features of the little one. 

Satoru leans down, a tender smile tugging at his lips as he watches the slow rise and fall of Satoshi’s tiny chest. His little hands are curled into fists, and his lips form a small pout as his little one continues to find himself in dreamland.

"Hey, little treasure of mine." Satoru whispers softly, brushing a finger gently across Satoshi’s cheek. "You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, you know that? And it’s all thanks to your amazing mom. You should be nicer to mom, okay? ‘specially today. It’s your mom’s birthday, after all."

A soft murmur releases from your son’s lips. Satoru couldn’t help but laugh silently. He could understand him, he supposed. Satoru will take his son’s hum as an answer. He stands there for a few moments longer, lost in the serenity of the moment.

The quiet hum of the house, the soft breaths of his sleeping son, and the comforting presence of you in the next room—all of it fills him with a profound sense of peace and gratitude.

Determined not to waste another moment, Satoru quietly steps out of the room. As he pads down the hallway, he hears the soft murmurs of Megumi and Tsumiki stirring their rooms.

A small smile plays on his lips as he finds himself leaning against the wall by their hall. A little while later, he could see Megumi and Tsumiki padding into their rooms, still rubbing the sleep from their eyes.

"Satoru–san?" Tsumiki whispers, her voice gentle as she rubs the sleep from her eyes. "Why are you up so early?"

"Yeah." Megumi adds, stifling a yawn as he steps into the room. "And why are you standing there like that? You look like you’re about to pick a fight with someone. It’s weird."

Satoru raises an eyebrow, feigning offense as he crosses his arms over his chest. "Hey, standing around waiting for my kids to wake up isn’t weird. It's dedication."

Tsumiki giggles softly, covering her mouth with her hand. "Dedication to what, exactly?"

"To make sure we have the best start to the day, obviously!" Satoru replies with a playful grin. "Besides, today’s special, remember? It’s my wife’s birthday, and I need my secret weapons—aka you two—to help me make it perfect."

Megumi narrows his bluish–green eyes slightly, still skeptical. "Secret weapons, huh?"

"That’s right, you guys." Satoru says, ruffling Megumi's hair affectionately. "You two are crucial to this mission. So, what do you say? Ready to help make this the best birthday ever?"

Tsumiki and Megumi exchange a glance before nodding in unison, their sleepy expressions replaced by excitement. Though, excitement for Megumi is different than it was for Tsumiki. That’s just how his little ones were. Tsumiki giggles as she walks up to Satoru. Megumi hums, crossing his arms as he looks away. But from a corner, Satoru could see his little smile. 

"Okay, secret weapons reporting for duty!" Tsumiki says with a mock salute, making Satoru laugh.

"That’s the spirit!" he replies. "Now, let’s get to work before they wake up and catch us in the act."

Breakfast could be a start, of course. Satoru had all the intentions of making today special just for you. Together, they tiptoe to the wide expanse of the kitchen, careful not to wake you.

The early morning light filters softly through the pastel curtains, casting a warm glow on their little covert operation. Satoru takes the lead on the operations, whispering instructions like a seasoned chef conducting a top-secret mission.

"Alright, Megumi, you're on egg duty!" Satoru says, pointing to the carton of eggs on the counter. "Crack 'em like a pro."

Megumi steps up, carefully cracking an egg against the bowl’s edge. A small shell fragment falls in, and he quickly fishes it out, shooting Satoru with a determined look. "I got this."

"Careful with the eggs, Megumi." Satoru whispers with a grin, leaning in conspiratorially. "We don’t want to serve scrambled shells to your mother."

“Gen–san’s not my mom….” Megumi rolls his eyes but can’t help the small smirk tugging at his lips. Satoru goes behind him and pats his head. Megumi could feel his ears turn red. "I know, I know. I’m not five anymore…..I’ll do well with Gen–san’s eggs."

Tsumiki giggles as she stands beside them, diligently stirring pancake batter. "You’re not much better, Gojo–san. You almost dropped the syrup a minute ago."

Satoru gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his heart as he looks at Tsumiki with a mock look of hurt. "Hey, hey, this is a delicate operation. We’re dealing with high-stakes birthday breakfast here!"

He then drops the act and winks, making Tsumiki laugh softly and Megumi snicker. “Alright, alright. Let’s do well. You know how sharp their nose is. They’ll smell it from a mile away.”

As the pancakes continue to sizzle on the griddle, the kitchen fills with the comforting aroma of sweet batter and freshly cut blueberries he’s adding onto the pancake.

He smiles as he flips them. Soon enough, he took the eggs from Megumi and thanked him. Satoru starts cooking the eggs on a frying pan on the other side of the burners.  

Megumi soon grabs a plate and starts to put it near Satoru, who thanks him. Satoru expertly flips the pancake and continues with the scrambled eggs. Megumi takes a cup from the cabinet and takes it to the refrigerator, taking the milk and pouring it out onto the cup. He takes more and starts doing the same for the rest. 

Satoru starts to hum as he turns the stove off. He plates your pancake then for him and the kids, before adding the scrambled eggs too.

Tsumiki happily adds the final touches to the batter with a sprinkle of cinnamon, while Megumi meticulously slices strawberries and bananas with a butter knife and adds them directly onto the plates. Satoru thanks the two of them as he carefully puts away everything they used for him to wash in the sink later.

Once the food is ready, the three of them carefully arrange your own food on a tray. They’ll eat their own food later. The blueberry pancakes are stacked neatly, topped with fresh fruit and a dollop of whipped cream.

A small bouquet of a variety of wildflowers from the garden, that Megumi found outside sits in a tiny vase next to a handmade card that Tsumiki decorated with hearts, glitter, and a sweet message inside by the two an Satoru remained etched inside.

Satoru steps back, beaming at their creation. "Alright, team, we’ve outdone ourselves. Let's wake up to our birthday target."

Tsumiki giggles again, picking up the card with pride. "Gen–san’s going to love it."

With the tray balanced carefully in Satoru’s hands, they make their way back to your room, hearts full of excitement. Tsumiki tries to suppress her excited giggles as she holds her brother’s hand, following Satoru. This was just the beginning. Today, they’re determined to show you just how much you mean to them—one heartfelt, lovingly crafted breakfast first, before the rest.

They quietly enter the master bedroom, Satoru balancing the tray with exaggerated care. You slowly stir at the sound of footsteps, effortlessly blinking, still rather weary as they came to approach you with their own sorts of excitements on their faces. The sight of all three of them standing there, happily, which can only make your heart melt.

“Happy birthday!” They all cheer, their voices soft but filled with all tones of excitement.

Satoru places the tray in front of you, as you slowly sit up, looking at him. Your husband's cerulean eyes were twinkling as he looked at you and placed a small kiss on your cheek. “Good morning. Sorry for the sudden surprise here.”

“Surprise really is a word to use.” You mumbled at him, teasingly as you smiled at him. “It’s a lovely way to wake up.”

“We made you breakfast, and Megumi and Tsumiki made this beautiful card for you,” Satoru whispers softly, his voice filled with affection as he places the tray gently in front of you. He gestures toward the card, a proud smile playing on his lips. “Obvious by Megumi’s handwriting. Which, you know, could use some work—”

“Hey!” Megumi’s face flushes red, his features contorting in mock indignation. His glare shifts between Satoru and you, though the hint of a smile betrays his embarrassment.

You chuckle, reaching over to give Satoru’s hand a playful smack. “It’s lovely, Megumi. Don’t worry.” Your eyes soften as you glance at the card, the glittery hearts and thoughtful message warming your heart.

Satoru pouts dramatically, rubbing the back of his hand as if you’d truly hurt him. “You didn’t have to smack me so hard, you know?” he says, feigning sadness, his lower lip jutting out in an exaggerated sulk.

“Hm, sorry about that, my love.” you reply, rolling your eyes playfully before leaning in to press a soft kiss to his jaw. “You didn’t have to do all this for me, you know.”

“Hey, we had to, babe.” Satoru whispers, his voice filled with quiet conviction as he meets your gaze. His smile widens, the warmth in his eyes making your heart flutter. “It’s such a special day, isn’t it? Celebrating the person who makes our little family whole.”

Tsumiki beams at your side, her hands clasped together. “We just wanted to make sure you felt as special as you make us feel every day.”

Megumi nods, a shy small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, it’s not much, but we hope you like it.”

Your heart swells with love, and you urge them together. When they are together close to you, you pull them all into a warm embrace. “I love it. Thank you all so much. This is the best birthday ever.”

Satoru wraps his arms around the three of you, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “You deserve the best, today and every day.”

You sit up, touched beyond words, and pull them all into a hug. “Thank you so much. This is the best birthday ever.”

Your beloved kisses the top of your head, his heart swelling with love. “No, thank you—for everything. We love you.”

Just as you all settle into the warmth of the moment, a soft, familiar cry echoes from the nearby crib. Satoshi's little voice rises, breaking the serene silence of the morning. Your husband Satoru chuckles, quickly pulling back slightly from the group hug.

"Looks like someone else wants to join our little celebration." he says, his bright blue eyes twinkling. 

You smile, beginning to rise, but Satoru gently places a hand on your shoulder. "I’ve got this, babe." he whispers, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "You relax and enjoy your breakfast."

Satoru turns to Tsumiki and Megumi. “Both of you too. Go and eat breakfast too. We might go out later, to have fun. So you should go and get some strength too.”

“Okay!” Tsumiki nodded and started to pull Megumi with her, who was telling her that he could walk without being dragged by her. But she didn’t listen to him. She just happily pulled him along. You shook your head and smiled, starting to eat your breakfast.

Satoru carefully strides over to the crib, his heart melting at the sight of Satoshi, his tiny fists waving in the air towards his father, his little face scrunched in a mix of confusion and need. Satoru carefully scoops him up, cradling him in his arms with as much gentleness as he could.

"Hey there, little treasure. Good morning.” Satoru murmurs softly, rocking him gently. "Did you miss out on the fun? Don’t worry, we saved the best part for you."

Satoshi’s cries quietly down as he snuggles into Satoru’s chest, his tiny hands gripping the fabric of Satoru’s night shirt. Satoru slowly makes his way back into your bedroom and takes a moment to look at you, before he walks back to the bed, sitting down beside you, with Satoshi nestled in his arms.

"Look who decided to wake up to join the party, mama." he says, smiling as he hands the baby to you.

You cradle Satoshi, his soft coos filling the room as he gazes up at you with wide, curious blue eyes. He looks so much like your husband, when he’s waking up. It was all too cute.

“Good morning to you sweetheart.” you whisper, brushing a gentle kiss on his forehead. “You wanted to join the birthday celebration, huh?”

“What do you want to do later?” Satoru asks, his voice light, though there’s an earnestness in his gaze. He watches you take a sip of milk, his bright blue eyes softening as they linger on you. “We gotta celebrate your birthday somehow—”

You pause, lowering the glass, and look up at him with a furrowed brow, a bit confused. “But we already are, aren’t we?” you reply, your voice warm with sincerity. “This is already an amazing celebration, Satoru.”

He smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he gently shakes his head. “Babe, I know you’re happy with this, but I want you to have a great birthday. Something that feels just as special as you are to me. Just as special as when you gave me our Satoshi here.”

Your heart melts at the tenderness in his voice, but a tiny knot forms in your stomach. “Satoru, I just….” you start, placing the glass down carefully.

“This... this is more than enough. I’ve got you, the kids, and this beautiful morning. I couldn’t ask for anything more. This is as special as Satoshi’s birth to me.”

Satoru leans forward slightly, his eyes never leaving yours, filled with a quiet determination. “I know it’s enough, babe.” he says softly, almost like a promise. “But I want to give you the world. I want you to feel all the love and appreciation I have for you today.”

You can see the vulnerability in his bright blue eyes, that rare side of him that only comes out when it’s just the two of you, when the world around you fades away. Gojo Satoru is always so strong, so confident, but moments like this, when he’s giving you his whole heart— to show you just how deeply he cares.

You reach across the table, gently placing your hand over his. “You already do, every single day, my love.” you whisper, squeezing his hand. “I’m already the luckiest person in the world, just having this. Just being with you and the kids is everything I need for a great happy birthday. Nothing else matters but this.”

Satoru’s face softens, a smile finally reaching his eyes. He lifts your hand to his lips, kissing it tenderly. “I’m so lucky to have you, you know that?” he murmurs, the words filled with meaning. 

Your chest swells with love, and you lean in to kiss him softly, a promise to share in this beautiful moment together. “Just as I’m lucky to have you with me. Every day.”

epilogue

When the excitement of the morning passed you and Satoru spent the whole day with the kids, just playing board games and watching movies. But there was one little detail you couldn’t shake off: Satoru had been extra secretive. And the kids were too. Somehow, you didn’t know what to do about this. 

Satoru’s only secretive for three reasons — he wants to protect you, he wants to hide his sweet treat stash or he’s hiding something from you and that’s either him breaking something or your birthday present. The odds were always interestingly hard to know, when it comes to that. 

As the day went on, you couldn’t help but notice him acting a bit too casual, as if he was trying to hide something behind that trademark mischievously sly grin of his. You had a feeling. No, you knew.

Your husband had something planned. He has to have had something planned. As much as you do say you don't want to do much, you know your husband can be too eager to do something. Even if it's just presents. And knowing Gojo Satoru, it was probably something expensive, flashy, and completely unnecessary.

"Hey, ‘toru." you say, cornering him in the living room as he casually tosses a playful grin your way. “What’s this I hear about you getting me a gift?”

His eyes widen in mock surprise, though it’s clear he’s trying not to break into a full-on grin. “Gift? What gift? I didn’t get you anything, like you told me to.” he says, feigning innocence with an exaggerated shrug. “Cause you know….I’m a good boy.”

“Don’t lie to me, Satoru.” You cross your arms, your eyes narrowing as you give him your best ‘I know you’re up to something’ look. "I’ve seen that gleam in your eye before. You’re up to something ridiculous. Plus, Megumi blurted out something.”

Satoru chuckles, stepping closer to you with that playful swagger of his. “I don’t know what you mean, love of my life. Megumi could just be making it up too.” he says, winking.

"Uh, uh. You think our Megumi's the type to do that."

"I mean, it could happen, you know. Teens can be like that!"

"Satoru, he's not a teen yet."

"Yeah, but it still could happen." He points out to you, with a sly look. “Plus I’m sure whatever it is, you’ll love it. You deserve it, after all.”

“Aha! So you did get me a present!” You look at him and he smiles at you. He did not look guilty at all about outing himself. You shook your head at his reaction and then sigh, your shoulders slumping slightly.

"You didn’t spend a ton of money on it again, did you?”

Satoru’s grin falters just for a moment, but he quickly recovers. "Well, maybe just a little… okay, a lot.” He pulls a small, shiny box from behind his back with all the dramatic flair of a magician revealing his final trick.

Your eyes widen. "Satoru, no. You promised no big gifts this time! You and I talked about this!"

He opens the box slowly, and inside is a… luxurious watch. The kind that could probably buy you an entire year's worth of groceries. You stare at it, the gold and sleek design shining under the light.

It was probably a one of a kind one too. Satoru never gave you presents that were something people can get in mass consumption. He always wants to make sure you only got the best from him. And he had too much money on him to care about it. Even when you nag at him about it.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You didn’t… You didn’t have to do this, Satoru. This is—”

“Absolutely perfect?” Satoru interrupts with a grin, obviously pleased with himself. “I thought you’d love it! It’s a little flashy, but hey, it’s your birthday, babe. You deserve to sparkle just as much as I do.”

You stare at him for a long moment, the weight of the situation sinking in. "Satoru, seriously. This is too much. We’ve talked about this… I don’t want you spending money like this on me."

He tilts his head, giving you that look, the one that says he’s not going to take no for an answer. “Babe, this is nothing compared to the actual present I was going to get you.”

You blink, your mind trying to catch up. “The what now?”

“Yeah.” He nods nonchalantly. “I was going to buy you an entire island, but I figured that might be a little over the top. You know, for your birthday and all.”

Your mouth hangs open for a second before you burst into laughter, unable to hold it in any longer. “An island?! Seriously? Are you trying to bankrupt us? I know we have a lot of money, Satoru but this is—”

Satoru shrugs, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Hey, I was gonna throw in a private jet too, but… we can save that for next year, actually.”

You shake your head in disbelief but you found youself chuckling at his thoughts. You can't help but feel a rush of affection for him. “I’m going to make you return it.” you say, though you can’t quite mask the smile spreading across your face.

“You won’t.” he says, smirking. “I already wrote a very convincing love letter to the shop owner. And you. It’s done. You gotta accept it!”

You laugh again, rolling your eyes playfully at your husband. “You’re impossible, Satoru. But I love you anyway.”

“Good to know, babe. I love you too.” he says with a wink. “Because I’m keeping that watch, and you’re wearing it every day from now on. Let me spoil you at least, hm? That's your husband's job!”

As you take the watch from him, still shaking your head in disbelief, you know one thing for sure: You’ll never win this battle. You know you can’t. Not when he loves you most in the world.

But at least you’ve got the most ridiculous, over-the-top husband in the world for everyday of your mortal lives together who loves you the most in the world and somehow, that’s more than enough.

"You should have gotten me a Casio."

Satoru narrows his eyes at you. "Baby, I have the money. We are not getting you a Casio."