#i think of the people who have hurt me in my life and i don’t want them DEAD.
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"BIRDS OF A FEATHER"
Yall I am literally sleep deprived and I'm 90 percent sure im gonna fail my math exam. I wrote this to try and calm down but I feel like it sucks. I literally spent like 3 hours on this so be nice pls. Lmk what you think and if you have any questions! Send in asks! Love yall! Thank you for supporting my trash writing LMAO.
Prologue:,Chapter 1: Chapter 2: Chapter 3: Chapter 4:
The moment you stepped off the plane, a strange sense of dread washed over you. Gotham City. The place you had spent years trying to fit in. Here you were again, bound by some invisible force to the very people you had spent your life chasing after. "The Batfamily". The same family who had neglected you for years. Who had hurt you emotionally, time and time again, making you feel small and invisible. Making you feel worthless. And yet, now, they all seemed desperate to make things right. To make up for replacing you with Traitor Tiffany. Tiffany who stole your life, who copied everything you said and did to a T.
Tiffany who they loved for that year before she was exposed.
You were going to ignore them. For the next two weeks, you would just do your best to make it through, keeping your distance and focusing on the countdown to when you'd be back at boarding school in New York. That was your escape, your sanctuary.
But as you entered the manor, the familiar echo of its grand hall made you feel a strange weight in your chest. The vast space, once cold and intimidating, now felt like it was closing in on you. The walls, the grand staircase, and even the ancient floors seemed to watch you.
You barely had time to drop your bags in the entryway before you were ambushed by them. All of them.
“Hey!” Dick’s voice was light and cheerful, far too cheerful considering everything. You didn’t even look up at him, not even when he wrapped you in a tight hug. You didn't bother hugging him back. You weren’t sure if it was because you were tired, or because you just didn’t feel like dealing with his overbearing presence, but you kept your focus on your phone, fingers tapping away as you scrolled through messages from Ariel, Claire, and Rory
“You’re coming back in 2 weeks right? imy alr” “NYC is lame as fuck w out u. come back now.” “Call me literally everyday. two weeks is wayyyyy too long”
They didn’t know about this—your insanely weird family of spandex wearing losers. They didn’t know about Tiffany, or the spy drama, or how everything had shifted when you were 15 or that you were technically half snake. All they knew was that you were just you, and they loved you for it. This summer was the highlight of your life.
And now, here you were, trapped with them for two weeks, trying to figure out how to survive without completely losing your mind.
“Hey, kid” Dick repeated, taking a step closer, his words coming out strangely awkward and nervous. Good, he should be nervous. “come on. Let’s grab breakfast, yeah? You can’t be all that hungry, but we are. It’s family time. You wouldn’t want to miss it.” He smiled at you like you were a little kid.
You felt your lip curl into a slight frown, but you kept your eyes on your phone. Since when did this whole family breakfast include you?All you wanted to do right now was sleep. “I’m good. Not hungry.”
Bruce appeared from the shadows, his heavy footsteps echoing in the hallway before you saw his face. The expression on his face wasn’t the cold indifference you remembered. It was warm. Too warm. He tried to hug you, but you quickly dodged him like he had the cooties. He took it like a champ, brushed it off and acted like he was reaching for your Goyard.
“(Y/N),” he said quietly, like he was trying to be gentle. "We’re having breakfast together. You don’t want to miss out on the family time. It’s important that we all reconnect.”
You didn’t even look up at him. You could practically feel the weight of his words pressing down on you. Reconnect? How could they possibly want to “reconnect” after all the years of neglect? The years of pretending you didn’t exist?
“I’m just fine here,” you muttered, fingers still flying across the screen as you tried to walk up the stairs.
Bruce didn’t take the hint. “Come on. You should eat something. It’s good for you.”
You wanted to snap at him, tell him you were tired of being treated like a child. But you didn’t. You were too tired for all that. Instead, you sighed. "I said I’m fine. I ate on the plane.”
Jason’s voice cut through the tension, his ever-present smirk on his face as he sauntered into the room, tossing his jacket over his shoulder. "Damn, it’s already this bad?" He raised an eyebrow at Bruce, then smirked at you. “Come on, little bird, you’re too grown up for us now, huh? Don’t you want to at least pretend to like us? Have too much fun over in St. Tropez? Too cool to hang out with your big brother?”
You rolled your eyes at his antics, suddenly annoyed. "Actually, yeah. Ya'll are lowkey losers." You were harsher than necessary but you wanted to make sure Jason got the hint. Make it known you haven't really forgiven him.
They were all obviously taken aback by your new attitude and mean girl habits, all too shocked to say anything.
Tim followed behind Jason, his ever-curious eyes flicking from you to Bruce, then to Dick. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead just shrugged, settling into a lean against the wall.
“You don’t have to join us, but it’s not like you have a choice,” he added, his voice calm but firm, like he was waiting for you to push back. “We’re not letting you hide in your room forever.”
You scoffed, "So i don't have a choice. Bit of a contradiction there, smartass."
Your sure you heard Bruce mutter something about language but Tim simply side-eyed you and brushed it off, his confidence unwavering.
Cass entered next, moving quietly, as always. But her gaze, there was something in it. A kind of quiet insistence, like she wanted to make sure you didn’t slip away unnoticed. You’d always hated how silent she was, how intense her focus could be.
“Breakfast,” she said, her tone not quite a question, not quite a statement. It was just her way of saying we’re doing this, whether you want to or not.
You groaned, slumping a little as you looked up from your phone. “I’m literally only here for two weeks. I don’t need to sit with you guys at every meal. That's so lame.”
At that, Bruce stepped closer. His hand rested on your shoulder, a touch so gentle you barely felt it, but the weight of it was enough to make your heart skip. “You’re staying here for two weeks, and we’re all going to make the most of this time,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “You’re part of this family. And that means we all spend time together. You don’t get to hide anymore.”
The room seemed to grow quieter, and you could feel the heat of everyone’s attention on you. They were all looking at you—waiting for you to say something, do something. It was unsettling. Unbearable.
You finally snapped, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “I just want to talk to my friends, okay?” You waved your phone at them. “We were actually having a conversation before all of you interrupted.”
A soft laugh escaped Damian's lips, but it wasn’t kind. “You’ve got better things to do than talk to those people. You have to make up for your misconduct from last time. And tell us what you did while in St. Tropez.” There he goes again, speaking like an 80 year old man.
You felt a sudden wave of unease as you glanced at him, then at Jason and Tim. They both seemed to be looking at your phone with a sharp intensity. What was that about?
You tried to ignore it. You had to. But the more you looked at your friends’ messages, the more you realized that even your phone couldn’t offer you peace here. Bruce was standing too close. Dick’s eyes wouldn’t leave you. Tim was still leaning against the wall, his gaze locked on you with that knowing, calculating look that made your stomach twist.
Jason finally broke the silence with a lazy, teasing grin. “Don’t be a brat. You don’t need to text anyone right now, you've been gone two months. You've got me now.”
You rolled your eyes again and you couldn't stop the words from slipping out, "Oh yeah jason? How long have i got you for? Till some shiny new sister comes in? Or will you expire before that? Do I get you for 2 weeks or 3 or-"
Jason's face fell, he obviously thought he was forgiven just because of your conversation the night before you left and because you replied to his messages occasionally.
Bruce stepped forward cutting you off, taking pity on jason, "Enough. I understand your frustration, but we are trying. Let us try before you shut us out." He said his tone stern, he was demanding a chance to redeem himself, not asking.
Before you could protest, Damian spoke up, his voice still a bit too soft for comfort. “You will stay here with us. You’ll see, it’ll be better for you.”
Punk. If he was a normal kid brother, you would've long made him stop talking to you like that.
You gritted your teeth, fangs coming out and stood up from the couch, locking your phone and stuffing it into your pocket. “Fine,” you muttered, “I’ll go to breakfast. But don’t expect me to start liking all this.”
Bruce smiled, just slightly. It was subtle, but there was something behind it. Something that made your skin crawl.
“Good,” he said, his voice almost too soothing. “We’re all here for you now.”
You walked toward the dining room with Bruce close behind you, his hand on your lower back as if ensuring you wouldn't runaway, a small, constant pressure that felt both grounding and suffocating. You wanted to shrug it off, but the thought of doing that in front of the others was too much. The others who were still watching, still waiting. You could almost feel their eyes on you like they were tracking your every movement, waiting for any sign of resistance.
As you passed through the grand entryway, you could hear Alfred’s familiar voice calling from the kitchen, his tone as warm and fatherly as ever. “Ah, there you are, Young Miss. I’ve made your favorite this morning. Scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and Pancakes” He turned to face you with a soft smile, but it faltered when he noticed the scowl on your face. “I hope you’re feeling well. It’s important that you eat something substantial, especially after a long flight.”
You nodded noncommittally, forcing a smile. “Thanks, Alfred. I’m not really hungry, though…”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll change your mind once you see it,” Alfred said with a knowing wink. “Come now, don’t make me chase you down for a seat.”
He motioned for you to sit at the table. Dick, already seated with a glass of juice, grinned at you like you were a little kid being coaxed into something.
“Come on, just sit,” he said, motioning to the empty chair next to him. “It’ll be fun. It’s family time, remember?”
You could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on you. It was suffocating. You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t want to play along with their sudden act of being a family after years of neglect. But you knew if you didn’t sit, if you didn’t comply in some way, they would only dig in their heels harder.
You sat down, pulling your chair in with a slight sigh. You didn’t want to, but it felt like the lesser of two evils. Jason gave you a little smirk from across the table, while Tim and Damian were already deeply engaged in a quiet conversation, glancing at you occasionally as if waiting to see how you'd react.
He spoke again, voice bright, like he was trying to lift the mood. "So, … what’s new with you? I bet you’ve been busy, huh? Euro summer? Did you have fun?" He smiled at you, but there was something in his eyes, something that lingered a little too long, like he was waiting for a response he had already anticipated.
You felt like a child that stole cookies from the cookie jar, "Yeah pretty fun. Didn't do much though." You shrugged trying to sound casual.
Bruce sat at the head of the table, the others falling into place around you. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, almost searching, before he turned his attention to the food. He wasn’t pushing, not yet. But there was a quiet, insistent presence in the way he looked at you.
“You know, (Y/N), it’s not just about the food. It’s about spending time together,” Bruce said, the softness in his voice unusual, almost too gentle for someone like him. “This is important. It’s part of being a family. We’ve missed you.”
You didn’t respond immediately. You didn’t know what to say. It all felt so fake. The kindness, the attempts to bond—it was all wrapped up in a layer of suffocating control.
Dick spoke again, trying to make you crack, to bring out the oversharer in you he remembered, "Any plans? Got anything to do?"
You shrugged, offering him only a brief glance before focusing on your plate. "Nothing much. Just school stuff."
"School stuff?" Bruce’s voice cut through, the sternness returning as his eyes bore into you. "What do you mean by ‘school stuff’? You’re not getting into trouble, are you?"
Your eyes flicked to him, and for a moment, you could feel the weight of his gaze. It was almost protective, but you didn't want that anymore. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You were done with the overbearing dad act. You were 16 now—not a little girl who needed constant monitoring. You didn't need his attention, not anymore.
You picked up your fork and took a bite of the scrambled eggs, more out of habit than actual hunger. They were good, just like Alfred’s cooking always was. But the taste felt like nothing in your mouth.
“I was texting my friends,” you said quietly, breaking the silence, your eyes flicking to your phone where the notifications from your friends were still blowing up. “They wanted to check I got here okay. I—”
Bruce cut you off before you could say more. “We understand that, ” he said, his voice low but firm, like a quiet warning. “But right now, you’re with us. And this time, we don’t want you distracted by those friends. You were with them for 3 months. It's family time now.”
You blinked at him, feeling a little breathless at the sudden sharpness of his words. Was that... affection? It was subtle, but it was there, in the way he spoke. It made your chest tighten. There was never family time before, at least none that included you.
“Don’t be rude,” Dick interjected, his tone light but with an edge of something else. He was looking at you more seriously now, no longer the playful older brother. “You can text your friends later. But right now, you’re here with us. And you’re going to enjoy it.”
You opened your mouth to argue, but your phone buzzed again in your pocket, and this time, it was an unknown number. You pulled it out reluctantly, glancing at the screen. It was a guy from your European trip, the french prince, one you had been texting occasionally during the summer.
But before you could even open the message, Damian’s sharp eyes caught sight of the name, and his expression hardened just slightly. He straightened, his voice suddenly tight. “Who is that?”
You looked up at him, eyebrows furrowing. Nosy much? “None of your fucking business,” you snapped without thinking.
The room went quiet. Too quiet. Everyone’s eyes were on you now, and you could feel the heat of their gazes like a thousand little pricks against your skin.
“Don’t get upset, (Y/N),” Bruce’s voice was almost soothing, but there was a new intensity to it. “We just care about you. You don’t need to talk to them all the time. You’re not going to be alone anymore.”
It wasn’t just a promise,—it was an expectation. . You realized, with growing unease, that it was a practically a threat.
Suddenly, your phone buzzed in your pocket. Again. The sound was a welcome distraction, but you knew exactly what it was: a flood of texts from Ariel, Claire, and Rory. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you could sneak a glance without drawing too much attention. Should you risk it after what happened not even a minutes ago? But before you could decide, Bruce’s eyes locked onto yours.
“Let me see that,” he said, his voice smooth but commanding. It wasn’t a request. “Who are you talking to?”
You froze for a split second, caught off guard by his intensity. The entire table fell silent, all eyes on you. You hadn’t realized how quiet they had gotten until now.
You hesitated before responding and quickly shoved your phone out of reach. “It’s just my friends from school, the ones I spent the summer with.”
Only after you explained did you realize that you didn't owe him an explanation.
Jason raised an eyebrow, his playful tone dropping just enough to sound dangerous. “Really? Because it looks like you’re texting someone from Europe, given the country code and all.”
Your heart skipped. You had been texting Ariel, and now your friends were practically spamming you in the group chat. "The girls!!" you named it that just to be petty after leaving the one with Barbra, Cass, and Steph. You didn't even think about how it might look to the family, who had all but cornered you into their web of attention. You didn’t want to admit it, but now you felt the pressure. How long would they keep this up?
“I’m not doing anything wrong,” you muttered, finally pulling your phone out and swiping away from the notifications, deciding to put it on Do Not Disturb around these psychos. You had a sudden, uncomfortable sense of guilt, like they were expecting you to explain yourself to them.
It was quiet and awkward for the rest of breakfast.
The morning after breakfast felt like an eternity. You had expected them to back off, to give you space after your little outburst, but no. The Batfamily had different plans. They were relentless. They didn’t just want to bond with you; they needed to bond with you. It was like a mission they had assigned themselves, as if they could somehow erase the years of neglect in just two weeks.
You knew better than to expect anything close to normal from them. But this was too much.
It started innocently enough, Bruce knocking on your room door, his usual stoic expression softening when he saw you sitting on the edge of your bed, surrounded by your belongings. You had been trying to shut out the noise of the manor, scrolling through your phone, ignoring the countless texts from your guys you met and the relentless buzz of Gotham in your head.
“Hey,” he said, his voice smooth, but there was a hint of something in it. Concern? Hope? You didn’t want to figure it out.
“Can we talk?”
You didn’t even look up, too busy focusing on the group chat from the girls. You weren’t ready to face him. Or anyone else. Especially not after breakfast. They all thought they had it figured out.
“You can talk to me while I’m on my phone,” you said flatly. “I’m busy.”
Bruce didn’t even flinch at your indifference. He took a step inside, shutting the door behind him as he sat on the edge of your bed. His presence felt heavy, like he was trying to make himself at home in a space that wasn’t his.
“You know, we’ve missed you, these two months felt like two years” he started softly, like that would somehow change the years of absence between you two. “I know this has been hard for you, but we’re trying. I’m trying. I’m just... trying to make up for lost time.” His hand hovered over the space next to you, but you didn’t budge.
“Stop trying so hard. You’re not going to fix anything, Bruce,” you muttered, your fingers tapping away on the screen.
“I don’t need to fix anything,” His voice was gentler now. “I just want to be here for you.”
Your eyes flicked over to him, and for a moment, you saw the guilt in his eyes. He was fighting against something, holding back. He was being real, honest. But you couldn’t let it get to you.
“I don’t need you to be here,” you said, your tone icy. “I’m not some little kid who needs you hovering over me, not anymore.”
He sighed, the disappointment in his voice sharp. "I know. I know, kid. But you are my daughter. And I’m not going to let you go through this alone. Not again. Especially with your..... abilities.”
The words felt like bullets, it hurt, the more he spoke the more you hurt. You just wanted him to go away.
The awkward silence that followed stretched on too long. Finally, Bruce stood up. His eyes lingered on you one last time before he opened the door. “Okay, but just know, I’m here when you’re ready to talk. I'll always be here.”
For the next two weeks, the family got more insistent on spending time with. The only thing that kept you going was that it would be over soon, or so you thought.
Damian was always the silent observer. The kid who knew how to push all your buttons without saying a word, the little brother who constantly attacked and ridiculed you.
One evening, he shows up at your door, a subtle shift in his body language telling you something’s up. His eyes soften, and you can tell he’s trying to break down the walls, bit by bit.
"Move over," he said, his voice devoid of its usual bite. Instead, it carried a strange urgency. He was holding a pillow, clutching onto it like a lifeline.
You narrowed your eyes, a growl rising in your throat. What the hell does he want now?
“No. What’s your problem?” You shot him a glare, rolling over on your bed, trying to make it clear you had no interest in him being there.
He didn’t move. He just stood there, waiting.
"Come on," he says flatly, crossing his arms, a rare hint of vulnerability in his tone. "It’s just for a little while. You used to bother me about this, don’t be so difficult now."
“Why are you always so insistent on being a brat? I've forgiven you for attacking me,” he muttered, stepping closer. “When we were younger, you always insisted on cuddling, begged for it even, always tried hugging me. You’ve grown up, yes, but that doesn’t mean things should change.”
When you refuse, Damian has none of it. He steps inside, closes the door behind him, and sits on your bed without asking. His demeanor is as sharp as ever, but his eyes flick to you constantly, waiting, hoping for some sign of compromise.
He walked toward the bed, pulling the blankets aside as if he was entitled to your space. You felt a flicker of that old resentment stir inside you, but the pressure of everything else, the family trying so hard to pretend everything was fine, Bruce’s repeated insistence on your bonding, the suffocating feeling that had followed you since you arrived, made you just want to give in.
You scoffed. “I grew up because you wouldn’t leave me alone when I was younger. You used to beat me up for trying to get close, remember? You literally threw me down a set of stairs. You never wanted to ‘bond’ then.”
He tilted his head slightly, his lips twisting into a brief frown. “Because you were insufferable.” His voice softened, a little, but still cold. “But I’m not the same as I was. Neither are you.
And then, without warning, he scoots closer, his shoulders stiff, as if awaiting your wrath. You almost let out a laugh; he still hasn't realized that maybe you don't want the cuddles anymore. But his face betrays something else: a quiet desperation. You could almost feel his need for connection, like he’s trying to make up for all those years.
He shifts awkwardly, a hand touching his hair, trying to mimic what you once did: the slight tap on his shoulder, the gentle nudge. But as he waits for you to break, you just stare at him, no words exchanged.
And that’s when he did something you didn’t expect: he laid down beside you, just like when you did to him when you were younger. He didn’t ask for permission, didn’t even seem to care that you clearly were about to strangle him.
You went still, your heart pounding as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into an uncomfortable cuddle. You wanted to push him off, but you couldn’t, not when he was being so vulnerable.
Instead, you just shut your eyes, and let the anger mix with the humiliation. You wouldn't admit it, but it felt nice.
Dick was the first to bombard you with affection every morning for two weeks straight. He’s like the human embodiment of sunshine, and you can’t help but feel the weight of his unrelenting kindness. He tries to coax you into breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinners... you name it. His tactic? Overload you with so much “family time” that eventually, you’ll give in.
He makes it a point to show you that he’s willing to work on your relationship. Every morning he’s there with a bright, goofy grin, telling you stories of his past adventures. He tries, in vain, to get you laughing with ridiculous anecdotes about the circus, Batman, and his early days in the Teen Titans. He stopped once you asked him for Connor's number and another topless picture if him.
At night, he tries to “reconnect” by suggesting game nights or silly activities like arts and crafts. “Come on, you loved painting when you were younger!” he’d say, pushing a small set of watercolor paints toward you, clearly hoping for a nostalgic response. But you’re not having it. You just roll your eyes and text your friends, but he stays close by, watching. He doesn’t pressure you, but you can feel his eyes lingering, waiting for the moment when you finally break.
But the moments are few, and even though you keep pushing him away, there’s a slight glimmer in his eyes every time he talks about when you’ll finally bond.
You avoided Duke like the plague, hiding everytime he came too close looking to hopeful. His betrayal was too fresh.
Jason tried to appeal to you in ways that are typical of him: snark, sarcasm, and outright bad-boy energy. He brings up old memories he knows you cherish, things that will make you cave. He walks around the manor like he owns the place, tossing out insults and lighthearted teasing every time you pass by. He’ll try to lure you into movie nights, always choosing the most ridiculously bad action movies, or challenge you to random things in the game room.
“Bet you can’t beat me in this game,” he’ll say, tossing a controller at you. “Come on, I’m the pro around here.”
It’s his way of bonding, of trying to “get you” in his own unique, unpredictable way. He also, strangely, gives you random moments of tenderness, moments that remind you of the old Jason, grabbing your shoulder when you least expect it, offering a smirk that’s soft when no one’s looking. But like everything else, it’s hard to believe this is real.
Your trust and abandonment issues ran too deep to believe any of them were genuine, though they all clearly were.
After a particularly annoying spat one day, where you ignored him all day, he jokingly announced, “If you didn’t have that attitude, maybe we could actually have a decent time. Just saying.”
In moments like that, you feel the thrum of tension in the air, the frustration of someone trying to connect with you and the knowledge that you're just too far gone to care right now. Now he felt how you did. Still, Jason's persisted and it’s obvious he won’t give up anytime soon.
Your entire existence had become one giant performance for them. The two weeks finally came to an end and so did your torture. You and the girls spent all night calling as you packed and they planned you a 'freedom celebration' that would start as soon as you got to Rory's house.
The two weeks really were torture, from the moment you woke up to the moment you went to sleep, it was like you were the star of a reality show you never agreed to. Every time you tried to slip away, to find some peace of mind, they were there, trying to draw you back in.
Alfred had begun preparing “family dinners,” encouraging you to join in at the table, asking you questions about your life like they hadn’t been absent for years.
Dick insisted on taking you out on family outings, making sure you were included in everything from movie nights to visits to the Gotham Zoo.
Cass would show up randomly in your room with little presents, a sketchbook, or a necklace. “For you,” she’d say with her quiet smile, a silent plea for you to forgive them.
Tim’s persistent attempts to engage you in every intellectual conversation, trying to get you to talk about everything and nothing at once, began to feel like a strange form of manipulation.
And Jason? Jason kept throwing out random quips, trying so hard to get a rise out of you, until the sarcasm wore thin and left a bitter taste in your mouth. It wasn’t funny anymore.
You couldn't wait to leave.
The morning of your flight, Bruce called you into his office, a serious expression on his face. “Good Morning,” he began, his voice a little too calm. “I need to talk to you about something.”
You stared at him, confused. “What?”
“You’re not going back to boarding school,” he said quietly, locking eyes with you. “It’s not safe. Tiffany escaped and is working with Patience again. They’ll come for you. They’ll come for all of us.”
Your blood ran cold. Tiffany. The girl who had stolen your life. The one who had tried to replace you. The one who had made everything about her and who had tricked the Batfamily into thinking she was you. Now she was ruining your escape.
“No. I’m not staying,” you spat. “I can’t be here. I won’t be here.”
“You have to stay here,” Bruce said, his voice firm, unwavering. “For your safety.”
“You can’t do this!” you screamed, jumping up from your seat, your fangs flashing as your emotions took over. “I don’t want to stay here! I want to go back! I’ll be fine in New York! You can’t keep me here!
But Bruce wasn’t backing down. His tone remained soft, even as the finality of his words sank in. “You’re staying in Gotham. And you’ll go to Gotham Prep. It’s safer.”
“No!” You felt the weight of your anger burst out of you. The room seemed to shrink. “I’m not going to Gotham Prep. I won’t stay here. I won’t live in this—prison!”
Tears welled in your eyes, hot and angry, and you could feel the pressure building inside you, the need to break free. But as your eyes met Bruce's, you realized—he was immune. He didn’t look scared of your fangs. He didn’t fear your powers, he didn't fall into your manipulation.
You later found out from Jason that Tim and Damian had been working on a serum, after what happened with Tiffany. A serum that made them immune to your powers.
There was no escaping now, not till you were 18 and Tiffany behind bars.
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summary: sneaking onto drew’s phone after a gnawing suspicion of him cheating on you
the age gap between you and drew had always lingered in the back of your mind, quietly eroding your confidence in the relationship. no matter how much you tried to push the thought aside, it left you questioning—doubting. if it was a concern for you, surely it was for him too… right?
at twenty one, you were still navigating life—balancing college, exploring career paths, meeting new people, and experiencing things for the first time. drew, on the other hand, was in an entirely different chapter.
he had everything already figured out—a thriving career as the ceo of a globally recognized company, financial security, a beautiful home, and the kind of life experience that only comes with time. and, of course, there was the attention.
women—his age—throwing themselves at him, drawn to his success, his confidence, and the effortless charm that came with being an attractive man in his late thirties. women who seemed like they belonged in his world more than you ever could.
so what made you any different?
late nights at the office became a routine for him. he explained it all—overtime, project deadlines, the occasional presence of a coworker or two in the building. you never questioned it.
until one night.
maybe it was real, or maybe it was just your own insecurities manifesting into something tangible. but as you washed his suit, you could have sworn you caught the faintest trace of perfume that didn’t belong to you.
it gnawed at you. the doubt, the fear. until, finally, you caved to the one thing you had sworn to yourself you wouldn’t do.
as he slept beside you, you carefully reached for his phone on the nightstand, your fingers hesitant but determined. the screen lit up, illuminating your face in the dark. you tried once. twice. a third time—
“it’s your birthday.”
his voice was soft, laced with sleep, yet fully aware. he lay on his side, head propped up on one hand as he watched you, offering the password without hesitation. a quiet reminder of the trust you were on the verge of betraying.
a lump formed in your throat, but you pressed forward. as the phone unlocked, you combed through everything—messages, photos, calls—desperate for proof of something that didn’t exist.
and there it was.
nothing. no betrayal. no late-night secrets. just the overwhelming weight of guilt settling in your stomach.
silently, you turned off the phone and handed it back to him, unable to meet his gaze.
drew chuckled, taking the phone and placing it back on the nightstand before reaching out, his fingers gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
“feel better now?” he asked, voice calm, understanding.
you didn’t answer, just stared at him with a deep frown, the shame too heavy to put into words.
“it’s okay,” he reassured you softly, though there was a hint of hurt in his voice. “but talk to me, baby. why’d you do that? what did i do that made you go through my phone?”
“you didn’t do anything, i just—” you hesitated, frustration bubbling up. how could you explain this without sounding irrational?
his head tilted slightly, reading you with ease. “been in your head too much, thinking things you shouldn’t?”
you nodded, exhaling shakily. “i just got scared… you’re always working late, and there are so many women—women your age—”
drew let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “that’s what you’re worried about? women my age?”
you pouted, not finding the humor in it, but his smile only grew.
“baby, if i wanted someone my age, i’d have them. but i don’t. i want you. age doesn’t change that.”
the sincerity in his voice made your throat tighten. “i’m sorry, drew,” you murmured, burying your face in your hands as embarrassment burned tears into your eyes.
“hey, none of that,” he whispered, pulling your hands away before wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you against his bare chest. “c’mere.”
you clung to him, pressing your face into the crook of his neck, your sniffles the only sound in the quiet room.
“m’not upset with you, sweetheart,” he promised, one hand threading through your hair as he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head.
“why not?” you mumbled into his skin, the warmth of him grounding you.
he chuckled. “because i know you didn’t mean any harm. just promise me that next time, you’ll talk to me instead, yeah?”
you nodded against him, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. “i promise.”
“good.” he sighed, his arms tightening around you. “now, let’s get some sleep.”
“i love you,” you whispered.
“i love you too, baby.”
#𐙚 doe’s work#drew starkey#drew starkey x reader#drew x reader#drew starkey fanfiction#drew starkey blurb#drew starkey prompt#drew starkey x yn#drew starkey x y/n#drew starkey x you#drew starkey fic#drew starkey imagine#drew starkey fluff#drew starkey edit#drew starkey moodboard
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About the interview thing where Bakugou say "when I make love to my wife", here is a few more lines he could say! Imagine Bakugou softer when talking about that. He has a lost look and a strange smile on his face, all because of his girl.
"The bed it's our kingdom and she's my queen".
"That's where I belong. In her."
"Being a hero is just my job, something I'm good at for a while. But making love to her? There's nothing better. Knowing that I'm the only one who can make her feel like that, who can adore her like that... And she's the only one for me too. Nothing else matters. Not the fights, the danger, the villains, the paperwork, the pressure or the expectations. Just a husband and wife loving each other all night along."
And in this context, Bakugou would say that he finds pathetic and sad that a man only lasts a few minutes and only one round. Sometimes he hears his fellow heroes talk about sex and he can only feel sorry for their girlfriends, but also proud to know that his wife will never know how those girls feel, because for Katsuki Bakugou if a man is not willing to last at least all night, if each round does not last more than 10 minutes, if he does not have his woman crying with pleasure and love, If he doesn't make her not remember how many times she came, if he don't have sex with her every single day without miss, if she is not on the verge of fainting without being able to walk the next day, is the man really a man or just a poor attempt?
as your husband walks through the threshold of your home, the sound of the lock clicking behind him echoes in the quiet room. katsuki immediately notices the change in the air—there's an awkward tension that wasn't there when he left.
you’re avoiding his gaze, busily moving around the kitchen, trying to keep your mind occupied. you’re embarrassed, the thought of his words replaying in your mind again and again.
the fact that he shared such... intimate, genuine thoughts with the entire world... it wasn’t that you were ashamed, but the sudden attention on your private life caught you off-guard.
"so... you’re gonna act like you didn’t just see me on tv?" katsuki says with a hint of curiosity, and a touch of worry as he notices how your back was turned away from him.
without a word, you feel the heat of his body as he presses himself against your back, his strong hands settling on your waist. he presses his lips to the side of your neck, warm and soft against your skin. it starts off slow and gentle at first, but there’s an underlying urgency to it, a need for your attention.
"i'm sorry, baby," he murmurs between kisses. "i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, alright?"
"katsuki," you scold as he apologizes, your breath hitches when he places a particularly slow kiss on your collarbone, warmth from his affection still lingering in your chest.
"i’m sorry… but i don’t regret saying any of it. you’re my wife, and i’m fuckin' proud of it. i'm the one who gets to love you like this. i'm the one who gets to fuck you so hard you see stars."
katsuki doesn't stop kissing you, his kisses growing more insistent, but you don’t let him off the hook so easily. you finally turn around, gently pushing him back, even as your heart races.
"i just can't believe you said all that. on live tv," it’s clear you’re not mad, unsure of how to handle this side of him— this soft, unfiltered honesty as his lips trail down your neck to your shoulder.
his fiery gaze softens just a little, and then presses another kiss to your lips, this one slower, deeper, as if to reassure you. "i know, baby, i'm sorry. just… don’t ignore me, okay? it hurts."
"you’re unbelievable," your voice holds more affection than you’d like to admit. "you just gonna let millions of people know how much stamina you have, huh? bet they all think you're some kind of—"
sex god. but before you can say it, katsuki presses a firm kiss to your lips, cutting off your words, his hands slipping around your back to pull you in even closer. he doesn’t let you retreat this time, his lips working their magic on you, unable to ignore the way your body betrays you.
"don't fuckin' care. you're still my wife, sweets. you’re the only one who matters to me. maybe i just need to show you how much i love you. properly."
you scold him with a half-hearted shove, but there's no real heat behind it. "you really know how to make a woman want to kill you and kiss you at the same time, don’t you?"
as he pulls away just enough to look you in the eye, feeling the heat of his gaze. you can’t deny the way his words, his kisses, have melted the tension between you. "you know you're the only one for me, sweets. always."
"i know. but you’re still crazy for doing that."
he chuckles, pulling you close, burying his face in your hair. "yeah, well… crazy’s what you get when you’ve got an amazin' fuckin' wife like you."
‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ 。゚•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• 。゚ ‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧
⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ SHAMELESS KATSUKI ENJOYER NUMBER TWO OMGOMG
#bakugou x reader#bnha bakugou#bakugou katsuki x reader#bnha bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo mha#katsuki bakugou#mha bakugo katsuki#mha bakugou#bnha#mha#bakugo x reader#bakugo katsuki x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#mha bakugo x reader#bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo#bakugou katsuki#bakugo fluff#bakugo x you#bakugou fluff#bakugou imagine#bakugou x you#bakugo#mha fluff#mha imagines#bnha drabble#bnha katsuki#bnha fluff#bnha x reader#bakugou x y/n
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Repopulating the whole world with Wonyoung
Male reader x Jang Wonyoung
Plot : You are from a random country "X". World War 3 is ongoing. Genre : Survival, Romantic, Emotional. Includes: 69, rimjob, facesitting, wony pissing, breeding, lots of kissing.
I drag myself onto the rocky shore, my body aching from the endless swimming. My clothes are soaked, my breaths ragged, and my arms feel like they could fall off any second. But I made it.
The world is in ruins. World War III tore everything apart. Cities burned, people scattered, and survival became a desperate gamble. I don’t know how long I was in the water, moving from boat to boat, trying to stay afloat. But somehow, I reached this island near the Korean Peninsula.
I push myself up, coughing out of the salt water, and scan out my surroundings. The island is covered in dense trees, the sand untouched, the wind eerily silent. No signs of life.
Except for one.
A girl stands near the water’s edge, her long, damp hair flowing in the wind. She’s wearing a torn white dress, clinging to her body from the seawater. Even in this chaos, she looks unreallike -- gorgeous.
I blink. My brain struggles to process what I’m seeing.
It’s Jang Wonyoung!
The Wonyoung. The famous K-pop idol. The girl that once stood on dazzling stages, worshipped by millions. And now, she’s here, stranded just like me. Wonyoung also came to the same island through swimming to save herself from the war.
She notices me. Her eyes widen, and she steps back slightly, uncertain. I must look like a wreck, an exhausted or an average looking guy.
I raise my hands slightly, trying to show I’m not a threat. “Hey… I’m not here to hurt you.” My voice is hoarse.
She hesitates, then speaks, her voice soft yet sharp. “Are you alone?”
I nod. “Yeah… just me.”
A pause. The wind howls between us. Then she exhales and sits down on the sand. “Same.”
I look around again. No ships, no planes, no humans. Just us.
Two strangers. A famous lost idol and me.
Alone in the middle of nowhere. Wonyoung asks for my name~ "I'm Y/N!" Nice to meet u! We have a handshake.. Her hands feel soft.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pt1:
I take a cautious step closer. “How long have you been here?”
“I don’t know. A few hours, maybe. I was on a boat, trying to escape… then everything went wrong.” Wonyoung replies.
I nod. I get it. The war didn’t care who we were, celebrity or nobody, we all ended up fighting for survival.
I sat onto the sand beside her, keeping a respectful distance. My body still aches from the swim, but at least I’m alive. “We should find shelter,” I say, more to myself than her.
Wonyoung doesn’t answer right away. She’s staring at the ocean, her expression unreadable. Finally, she nods. “Yeah.”
We explore the island together. It’s small, covered in thick trees, with no sign of civilization. No food, no supplies. If we want to live, we’ll have to find a way ourselves.
We build a shelter from fallen branches near a rocky cliffside, something to protect us from the wind. It’s not much, but it’ll do for now.
I know Wonyoung is feeling hungry, I can hear the sounds from her stomach. She's embarrassed. I hunt for fruits around in the forest and give some off to her. Wonyoung smiles and thanks me for the first time.
As night arrives, we sleep inside the shelter with a distinct position from each other. I can't believe I'm sleeping nearby a famous K-pop idol!
Wonyoung must be a very clean and neat girl. As morning arrives, with no proper shelter, no soap, and no change of clothes, Wonyoung specifically start to feel disgusting. We both only got one outfit for ourselves and its also getting torn apart.
Wonyoung tugs at her damp, dirt-streaked dress, grimacing. “I can’t take this anymore. I feel gross.”
I look down at myself. My clothes are stiff with dried saltwater and sweat. “Yeah, me too.”
She crosses her arms, thinking. “We need to wash them.”
I nod, then realize the problem. “But… if we wash them, we’ll have nothing to wear.”
She sighs. “I know.”
We stand there in awkward silence, both aware of what that means.
“…Maybe we take turns?” I suggest hesitantly.
She gives me a sharp look. “You mean one of us stays naked while the other waits?”
I scratch my head. “I mean… yeah?”
She groans, burying her face in her hands. “This is so embarrassing.”
I shrug. “We don’t have a choice. It’s just us here.”
She peeks at me through her fingers. “Still!”
After a long pause, she exhales sharply. “Fine!" “This is so worse!” she mutters.
I chuckle. “At least we’ll be clean.”
She grumbles but doesn’t argue.
And so, in our strange little world, even washing clothes becomes a ridiculous challenge. But somehow, we manage—awkward, embarrassed, but surviving together.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
But suddenly, it seems Wonyoung has realized survival takes priority over everything else. Embarrassment, modesty—those things start to feel pointless.
To my surprise, Wonyoung just… pulls her dress over her head.
I freeze. My brain short-circuits as the gorgeous Wonyoung directly takes off her clothes near me, her medium sized breasts with pretty pink nipples, a luscious curvy figure that takes my breath away. Her natural scent is divine yet there's a hint of dirt clinging to her perfect skin. Now as soon as she also takes off her smelly and dirty underwear the same time, I see her pussy is hairy, maybe she doesn't shave it often. I keep looking in at her hungrily, finding every aspect of Wonyoung naked incredibly sexy.
She throws her dress and underwear onto a sea, standing now in nothing but her bare skin, completely unbothered. “You should do the same,” she says casually. “It’s just us, anyway.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I swallow hard, staring at the ground now. “Uh… are you sure about this?”
She shrugs. “Why not? Clothes are useless if they’re this filthy. We might as well just stay like this.”
I feel my face burning. “I mean… isn’t that a little—”
She raises an eyebrow. “What? Weird? Embarrassing?” She sighs. “At first, yeah. But think about it—we’re stuck here, just the two of us. Why should we care?”
I can’t argue with that logic. She’s right. There’s no one else. No society. No rules.
Still, I hesitate.
She smirks slightly. “You’re overthinking it.”
I exhale, then slowly pull off my shirt. Then my pants. The air feels strange against my skin, but at the same time… freeing.
Wonyoung smiles. “See? Not so bad.”
And just like that, we accept our fate. No more shame, no more awkwardness—just two survivors, stripped of everything, living in the most natural way possible.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As now I'm naked as well, Wonyoung starts to look at my rod standing at attention. I caught her biting her lips and smiling, which I found adorable. She playfully teases, 'I can't help it, it's so…funny!' I blush furiously and retort, 'Hey, don't laugh!'". I'm confused why the heck Wonyoung is laughing at my dick? Maybe she has never seen one before?
"You look funny naked, especially with that thing down standing out of nowhere so hard" Wonyoung teases.
I'm sure Wonyoung knows herself why my dick is hard at the moment. It only get this way when there's a pretty hot girl around. Also the fact, Wonyoung is naked herself too. Wonyoung's stomach makes a noise again, its time for food and we realize we should start hunting for survival.
Yesterday we survived on wild fruits & coconuts, and anything remotely edible that we can scavenge. But soon, we realize that if we want to stay strong, we need real food ~ fish.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wonyoung figures out that if we trap fish in small tidal pools near the shore, we can just grab them with our hands. It’s tricky, but with patience, we manage to catch a few.
Since we don’t have pots or pans, we cook the fish directly over a fire. We create a simple fire pit using dry wood and stones. We skewer the fish on sticks and roast them over the flames until they’re cooked through.
The first bite of was Incredible. We eat in silence, both of us savoring the moment. Wonyoung licks her lips, grinning. “I never thought I’d be this happy just eating a burnt fish.”
I laugh, nodding at her words.
As night falls, the temperature on the island drops, and the once-refreshing breeze turns into a chilling wind. Its getting cold. Yesterday we had our clothes but this morning, upon Wonyoung's idea, I also threw my clothes and we're both naked still.
With no clothes, no blankets, and only a small fire to keep us warm, the cold becomes a real problem.
At first, we try to endure it, huddling close to the fire, wrapping ourselves in large leaves, anything to stay warm. But nothing works.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wonyoung shivers beside me, hugging herself tightly. “This isn’t working,” she mutters, her teeth slightly chattering.
I sigh. I’m freezing too. Then, reluctantly, Wonyoung says, “There’s only one thing we can do.”
I looks at her, raising an eyebrow. “What?”
She hesitates. “Body heat. If we stay close, we’ll be warmer.”
I stare her for a second, then exhale, shaking my head. “I can’t believe this…” But then, after another shiver, I mutter, “Fine. But don’t get any ideas. I try to be positive, trying my best to be a gentleman ”
But Wonyoung seems to have something in her mind, she has been trying a little to seduce me even in this kind of survival condition ever since we both got naked.
We move closer, our bare skin pressing together. The warmth is immediate, awkward at first, but undeniable.
She rests her head against my shoulder, her body still tense. “I love this,” she whispers.
Slowly, her body relaxes against mine, and I feel my own muscles easing. The cold doesn’t bite as much anymore.
After a few moments of silence, she sighs. “You’re warm…”
I smirk. “So are you.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wonyoung hugs me tigher, her chest pressing over mine. I can feel the size of her breasts, I have never grabbed them yet with my hands. I feel so good as well as her skin presses over mine more tightly..
Wonyoung and I can see the full moon together, it looks beautiful.
And just like that, we fall asleep, two survivors, pressed together against the cold, finding warmth in the only way we can.
The next morning, fever hits me suddenly. One moment, I’m fine, tired but fine. My body feels like it’s burning from the inside. My limbs are weak, my vision blurry, and every breath feels heavy.
I collapse near our shelter, barely able to keep my eyes open. Wonyoung rushes over, panic written all over her face.
“Hey! What’s wrong?” She kneels beside me, pressing a hand to my forehead. The moment she touches me, she gasps. “You’re burning up…”
I try to respond, but my throat is dry, my voice barely a whisper. “I’m… just tired…”
She bites her lip, looking around as if searching for a solution. “You’re Sick OH God!!"
Wonyoung has gotten emotional. She swallows hard, taking a shaky breath.
For the first time, I see her cry.
Even in this desperate situation, I hate seeing her like this. I slowly reach out, grabbing her trembling hand. “Hey… I’m not dead yet.” I try to smile, but even that takes too much effort.
She sniffles and squeezes my hand tightly. “You better not die,” she whispers. “I can’t be alone here.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That night, Wonyoung stays by my side, cooling my forehead with wet leaves, giving me water, whispering words of reassurance even when she thinks I’m asleep.
And in my fevered haze, I realize something—she’s not just the famous girl I once admired from afar. She’s not just my survival partner. She might be someone special in my life.
The fever doesn’t break overnight, that day Wonyoung does all the job, cooking the fishes and finding survival resources. My body feels weak, my head heavy, and every movement sends waves of exhaustion through me. But Wonyoung never leaves my side.
She brings me water from the stream, carefully tilting a coconut shell to my lips. “Drink,” she murmurs. Her voice is soft but firm, her eyes filled with worry.
I manage a few sips before resting my head back down. “Thanks…” I whisper.
She sighs, brushing my damp hair back. “You’re burning up.”
That night, as the cold wind howls through our shelter, Wonyoung presses herself against me, wrapping her arms around my body. “This should help,” she whispers. “You need warmth.”
I’m too weak to argue, and honestly, her body heat is comforting. She rests her head against my chest, holding me close. She takes care of my body.
At some point, I groan, my muscles aching all over.
She notices immediately. “Does it hurt?”
I nod weakly.
Without hesitation, she shifts, her delicate hands moving to my shoulders. Slowly, gently, she starts massaging me, her fingers pressing into my tense muscles. She also gave me a handjob at the middle. I don’t even know if I should count it as lewd since we have been naked together and staying like this for 2 days already, but this is the first time she grabbed my dick with her hands.
“Relax,” she whispers. “You always do everything for us. Just let me take care of you.”
Her hands move down my arms, across my back, easing the knots of pain. Her touch is soft but firm, careful yet reassuring.
For the first time in days, I feel a little better.
I close my eyes, letting her warmth, her touch, her presence lull me into much-needed rest.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wonyoung asks, “Do you think the war is over?”
I exhale, shaking my head. “I don’t know.”
She stares at the horizon. “What if… no one is left?”
I glance at her. “What do you mean?”
She hugs herself tighter. “Last time we saw the world… there were nukes being launched. Countries were falling apart. If the war is over, does that mean someone won? Or does it mean no one is left to fight anymore?”
A heavy silence falls between us. The thought is terrifying, but not impossible.
I swallow. “Even if there are survivors, do you think anyone would look for us? We’re on some random, uncharted island. We don’t even know if this place is on any map.”
Wonyoung’s expression darkens. “We could be doomed.”
I don’t want to believe that. But deep down, I know she might be right.
She rests her head on my shoulder. “It’s just us now,” she whispers.
I wrap an arm around her, pulling her close. “Then we survive. No matter what.”
“But if we are the only ones left…” Wonyoung hesitates. “Should we… you know… repopulate?”
The word hangs in the air, heavier than anything we’ve ever spoken before.
I swallow hard. “You’re asking if we should have kids?”
She nods slowly. “It’s what humans do, right? Continue the species.”
The idea makes sense, logically. But something about it feels too real.
I exhale. “That’s a big decision.”
She glances at me, her cheeks slightly flushed. “I know. But if the world is gone… doesn’t that mean we’re responsible for rebuilding it?”
I run a hand through my hair, trying to process. “It’s not just about responsibility. We’d be bringing a child into a world with no hospitals, no medicine, no help. It’d be dangerous.”
She bites her lip, thinking. “Yeah… but if we don’t, then when we die, that’s it. The end of humanity.”
Silence. The fire crackles between us.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pt2:
Wonyoung finally sighs, shaking her head. “Maybe I’m overthinking.”
After some while, Wonyoung asks, "Do you want some special comfort?"
Without understanding what special comfort she meant, I nodded yes.
Wonyoung winks and positioned her face between my legs. Her hands reach up to gently caress my thighs, sending shivers through my body. Leaning in slowly, I suddenly feel her pink tongue extends and swirls around the tip of my dick. A soft gasp escapes her as she tastes me, her eyes never leaving mine. She takes the head into her warm, inviting mouth.
I feel my full length inside her mouth. I finally realized Wonyoung is giving me a blowjob already. Wonyoung pulls back a bit. She grins, still stroking me gently. "Mmm…you like that y/n?" She teases before taking me deep again, bobbing her head with purpose now.
"Wonyoung, are you serious right now? You're a famous idol… I can't believe ur doing this!?!" I say.
Wonyoung replies, "Well, I don't think there's anyone left in the world. We should start reproducing already!." She continues taking my length more inside her mouth.
I realize Wonyoung must be feeling emotional, and that I'm the only person in her life now. It doesn't matter if I'm attractive or not.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wonyoung is absolutely magnificent as she works to please me with her lips and tongue. Her tongue dances against the sensitive under side of my dick each time I hit the back of her mouth. She gazes up at me with desire, her cheeks hollowing as she takes me deeper still. Every flick, suck and lick from Wonyoung feels heavenly, it's clear she was made for this. I can't hold back my cries of pleasure - "Oh wow, Wonyoung please stop, you are amazing at this!"
Wiping a strand of saliva from her chin after she finishes sucking my rod, Wonyoung sits up and spreads her legs wide. Her thick bush of dark hair beckons me forward. "Alright, enough pleasing you. I want the same feeling as well. Mind eating my hairy pussy now?" she commands.
"Are you serious? But I'm sick!" I reply to her command.
"Oh right", Wonyoung pauses, a look of determination crossing her face. "Can't stand or return the favor hmm?" She grins slyly. "No problem, I can adapt." She positions herself above me, her beautiful eyes twinkling. "Here, I'll just…sit right down."
And with that, Wonyoung lowers herself, her vertical lips parting as she envelops my face in her warmth. I feel her weight settle on my face as she slowly sits on my face, her pussy hair tickling my nose.
I get flashbacks of watching Wonyoung's performance through my screen at home last year before the war started. It's exactly that same ass! Now that ass is about to be buried all over my face.
As Wonyoung lowers herself onto me fully, I am enveloped by her feminine heat and scent from her ass… She is totally face sitting on me.. Wonyoung is now riding my face!
Eager to please, I decide to really explore Wonyoung's shithole. Gently I spread her ass cheeks further apart, gazing at her tight little bud. I push my tongue forward deep, pushing more deep into Wonyoung's most intimate place. Inside her anus, my tongue meets warm, velvety smooth walls that grip me gently. A faint musky scent fills my senses as I wiggle and stroke within her sensitive rim.
My tongue inside her asshole is absorbing up every sticky morsel. The taste is intense, earthy and undeniably naughty. I delve deeper, driven by an urge to clean every inch of her filthy depths.
Her inner walls clench and grip my probing tongue as I feel the wet, dirty texture inside her tight little shithole. It's a decadent mess inside here. Oh fuck, Am I really eating her wet messy holes as she commands?
Shee gasps but then urges me, "Deeper...stick your tongue in!".
I oblige, slowly working my tongue.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Her ass shakes over my head with a playful excitement from taking in charge, she still asks teasingly, "Is OK?"
I nod, surrendering to pleasure her. My tongue extends, lapping up her slick nectar. She tastes divine. I feel her move, grinding against my mouth harder. She shifts a bit and my tongue finds her hairy wet pussy, making her bite her lip and smile wider.
I eagerly lap up every drop of her juices, my tongue tracing her folds and circling her engorged clit. I suck the bud into my mouth, flicking it while my hands press against her thighs for balance. Wonyoung gasps, riding my face harder. I insert my tongue as deep as it will go inside her within her wetness.
Wonyoung grinds down harder, inviting me to continue. I oblige, gently probing at her holes with more intention now. The salty-sweet taste of mixing her essence on my tongue drives me wild. Wonyoung cries out, clearly enjoying using me completely.
"Mmm…you're so good with that tongue, I just can't resist returning the favor!" Wonyoung cries. She leans down, taking my throbbing length back into her mouth. Now our bodies form a delightfully lewd 69 position - me eating her treasure while she continues to suck me off.
Her hips move in a sensual rhythm, grinding her wetness all over my face as I feel the base of my shaft hit her throat each time she takes me deep.
Our 69 is smooth and rhythmic now, both of us falling into it as the ecstasy builds. My tongue works her clit in firm circles while I thrust my tongue as deep as possible into her tight back doorway. Wonyoung's mouth moves expertly along my shaft, her lips sealed tight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Just when I think it can't get more intense, I feel a warm fluid against my chin and mouth. "Oh my god, I'm sorry!" Wonyoung cries out. But I don't pull back - I simply extend my tongue, catching her pee with every skillful lick. She trembles above me as she finishes, spent. A mixture of her fluids coats my face but I don't mind one bit, still savoring her completely.
Against my will, I'm forced to drink down her warm, tangy urine. It's strong and acrid on my tongue but I obediently swallow, NOT wanting to displease Wonyoung. She seems shy now, her cheeks flushed crimson.
"Here, let me make it better." She whispers. Wonyoung begins gently licking my face with her soft, pink tongue. She methodically cleans every inch, the bitter taste slowly fading. When she reaches my lips she takes me into her mouth again, our tongues meeting. She swallows some of her own urine back from my mouth as we have a mouthful french kiss. Her eyes closed, slipping her tongue into my mouth. There it mixes with my saliva too, a lewd, taboo French kiss. When she finally breaks the kiss, her eyes search mine - a mix of apology and invitation.
She again engages me in a deep and soulful kiss. Wonyoung breaks the kiss, her eyes glinting with newfound desire. She stands up now. "I hope you can forgive me," she purrs before sitting over my shaft. Wonyoung positions herself now ready to ride my dicm. "Now fuck me…fuck me hard, its time for reproduction already! Forget the humanity outside! Theres no one left!" she screams.
She cries out as I claim her. I watch my rod disappearing between her thighs, feeling her walls tighten around me. "Yes, that's it!, Oh my god I can't believe I'm having my first time!" Wonyoung moans as she rides my dick hard. Our bodies connect with a primal rhythm as I punish her core. I know I won't last long after that intense buildup. "Don't stop!" she gasps, pulling me deeper. I'm determined to satisfy us both.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tears spring to her eyes but she keeps crying out "Yes yes yes!".. Wonyoung is literally screaming and riding me at the middle of the island. We don’t know what's happening outside in the real world. But here, it seems we both are actually enjoying. Birds and insects are watching us fuck in the silent island. The island is full of her screams and cries in pleasure.
Wonyoung starts bouncing on my rod harder. Each deep thrust draws out prolonged, wailing cries from Wonyoung's lips: "AHH! AHHH PLEASE!". Wonyoung leans down upon my mouth for a kiss now.
She breathes, "You're taking me so well", "but I'm not nearly done with you yet until u cum inside me."
Wonyoung's forcefully kisses me deep and moans. "Ahh, please, I can't.. Cum already.!" she cries desperately, a mix of fear and excitement in her voice.
Wonyoung screams again, her voice rising in pitch as I cum inside her "OOOOHHH!"
Wonyoung feels the sticky white cum fill inside her. Its a big load. She still continues riding, but now Wonyoung feels something tear inside her… "You…you tore me," she whispers, eyes wide.
I push her away from my dick, I see a mess down in her pussy. Its full of my sperm and cum, her insides must have broken and torn apart since its her first time. "It hurts but we succeeded. I'm probably finally pregnant!." Wonyoung cries.
I get emotional too. I hug Wonyoung, and as she hugs me back, we hold each other with love, and I can feel her warmth and heartbeat. Inside Wonyoung is a complex mix of emotions and physical sensations.
I can't believe it, did I actually breed Wonyoung, the most popular K-pop girl? This feels so real, it’s definitely not a dream! Yes, thats right! If I and Wonyoung are really the only humans left, the next world generation will be descendants of us!
#wonyoung smut#girl group smut#kpop girl smut#izone smut#ive smut#yujin smut#yuna smut#itzy smut#twice smut#karina smut
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But I'm overwhelmed with jealousy
Jealous! Se-mi x fem! reader
Summary: jealous gf se-mi headcannons!
Tw: jealous, possessive, aggression, intimation, killing/sabotaging players (didn’t get into detail), light hearted threats, se-mi is down BAD, se-mi wants readers attention, physical touch, humor + exaggeration (the kid part.) swearing and snarky remarks.. (kinda?) let me know if i missed anything!
authors note: can you see this is an enhypen reference? (the name of the fic and the pictures used..) dyk i actually name all my fics after my favorite artists (enhypen, illit, and ariana grande?!) also im gonna cry i miss my wife gabby but she’s doing SCHOOL. gonna sob
Not proofread!
Word count: 531
Jealous! Se-mi x Reader Headcanons
• Se-mi isn’t the type to openly admit she’s jealous, but the moment she feels threatened, her entire demeanor changes. Her eyes darken, her body stiffens, and her jaw clenches ever so slightly.
• She has a sharp resting glare, so sometimes people don’t even realize she’s fuming with jealousy—until she makes a snarky remark under her breath.
• If she sees someone getting too comfortable around you, she’ll silently step closer, standing just a little too protectively beside you, as if she’s reminding them who you belong to.
When a Kid Compliments You:
• You two were just casually walking down the street when a little kid looked up at you and innocently said, “Wow! You’re really pretty!”
• Before you could even react, you felt the air change—Se-mi went completely silent.
• You turned to see her standing still, her eyes darkened, lips pressed into a thin line. Instant panic.
• “Oh nononono, Se-mi! You’re not gonna hurt the child—he just complimented me!” you blurted out, quickly stepping in front of her.
• She scoffed, shaking her head. “You think I’d actually fight a kid?”
• …You weren’t sure. Because the way she was looking at that child made you think she just might.
• The poor kid, oblivious to the tension, just giggled and ran off. Meanwhile, you spent the next five minutes calming Se-mi down, reassuring her that even toddlers weren’t competition for her.
When Another Player Flirts With You in the Game:
• Se-mi is not subtle when another player tries flirting with you.
• She immediately steps between you and them, fixing them with a cold, unreadable stare.
• “Keep your eyes on the game, not my girlfriend” she says flatly scaring the other player away.
• If they don’t get the message, she doesn’t mind “accidentally” knocking into them during red light green light or making their life slightly more difficult.
• One time, Player 230 “jokingly” said, “Damn, Y/N, if we make it out of here, you should go on a date with me instead.”
• Se-mi didn’t say a word—she just gave him a look that made him rethink and question what he said then he takes what he said back.
Random Moments of Jealousy:
• Eye Contact? Nope. If someone so much as stares at you too long, Se-mi will stare back—until they get so uncomfortable they look away first.
• Physical Touch? Absolutely Not. If someone puts a hand on your shoulder or leans in too close, she’ll immediately pull you toward her with zero hesitation.
• Possessive Gestures. She often rests her hand on your waist, gives you her jacket, or calls you “mine” loud enough for others to hear.
• When she’s feeling particularly territorial, she’ll kiss you in front of others—just to make it crystal clear who you belong to.
When You Reassure Her:
• Sometimes, her jealousy is unreasonable, and you know it.
• “Se-mi, do you really think I’d leave you for a random stranger?”
• She crosses her arms and looks away, muttering, “I don’t like people thinking they have a chance.”
• You can’t help but smile and grab her hand, pulling her close.
• “You’re the only one for me, dummy.”
• She doesn’t respond, but you see the corner of her lips twitch—and that’s how you know she’s secretly pleased.
Overall:
• Se-mi is undeniably protective and territorial, but she trusts you enough not to lash out unless absolutely necessary.
• She won’t always voice her jealousy, but she’ll make sure everyone knows you’re hers in one way or another.
• Despite her sharp and intimidating nature, she secretly just wants reassurance that you love her as much as she loves you.
• And honestly? You think it’s kinda cute—as long as she doesn’t actually try to start a fight with a child again.
#lesbian#player 380#player 380 x reader#lgbtq#se-mi squid game#se-mi x reader#squid game fanfic#squid games#wlw#se mi squid game#squid games fanfiction#squid game#squid games 2#x reader#squid games fluff#won ji an#wonjian#🫐𓏵﹕ 𝐌���𝐈 ˎˊ˗₊˚ 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬
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Beginners Guide To Making A Point: Arcane
**Spoilers For Arcane**
Good morning my friends. Have you or someone you know been victimized by one of the mean folks like myself ripping apart your takes on the show Arcane? Well today there is hope. I’m here to share the sinister secrets of our trade that allow us to commit such dastardly deeds. So the next time one of us comes knocking, you will be ready!
All too often, I see kind and gentle folks like you innocently trying to make statements like the ones below:
1. Caitlyn Kiramman murdered kids!
2. Caitlyn never showed any remorse!
3. Caitlyn lost her mom and acted like that was a justification for her crimes!
4. Caitlyn looked down and didn’t love Vi!
Now you aren’t doing anything wrong. Just sharing your take on this story and what happens. But then someone like me will come along and reblog with some snarky title and something like this:
1. There is no evidence of that whatsoever in any single moment of the show
2. I’d run down the various moments where she does show remorse
3. I’d list the long series of traumatic incidents that severely impact her mental state leading to her eventual fall into Ambessa’s clutches
4. Id explain that there are three moments and three moments only when she ever says a negative thing about Zaunites.
A- she calls the people who attacked the memorial animals immediately afterward. And lets be clear, they were.
B- She says Vi and Jinx share blood during her lowest and darkest moment.
C- She says something regarding the depravity of Zaun or something when talking to Singed after the Stillwater massacre. Of course I’d use the whole quote.
Then I would point out that she saved Vi’s life twice, spared Jinx after all she’d done to Cait in season 1 because Vi asked her to, started a war by trying to save Vander, and gave Vi the choice to free Jinx knowing full well Vi may leave and never return.
And you’d have a bunch of mean comments that hurt your feelings and people making fun of you and so on. But! I’m gonna show you how I do it and help you make your next case in a way people like me can’t attack. First we need to discuss one very simple rule
If you can’t back it up with content, it didn’t happen:
Now this one sounds simple. But it can be tricky to master. Let me give you an example-
Example: “Caitlyn murdered innocent Zaunites with The Grey!”
Okay. Now I know in your mind you see this and think, “well yea? I mean we saw the sketches of people who grew up surrounded by it their whole lives having problems. And Jayce suggests Viktor’s condition may have been caused by it. She exposed people to it that means she killed them”.
There is not in a single second of any frame, evidence that anyone died from exposure during the strike team’s operations. In fact we see several characters who were exposed, Caitlyn included, who are fine later. And I know, what you are thinking:
“But OP we don’t know if there were long term latent complications!”
Correct. And unless Riot and Fortiche tell us we never will. Vi could have CTE, Jinx could have untold issues from being infused with Shimmer, Sevika could have lung cancer. It’s all speculative. So if it didn’t happen, it isn’t good for analysis.
Going a tad bit deeper
Now this one does go even further. Let’s use this example:
Example- “Caitlyn never apologized!”
Now I see this one a lot. And I get it. She never says sorry out loud. So if you misunderstand the rule that means she doesn’t. But you notice it says “if you can’t back it up with the content”.
So while Caitlyn never speaks the words, we know she :
1. starts a war to save Vander
2. takes no action when Jinx has her back to her and instead rushes to save a wounded Vi
3. keeps Jinx in the Kiramman bunker rather than Stillwater and forgoes judgement until Vi wakes
4. has several bits of dialogue expressing her regret and self-hate
5. lets Vi make the choice to free Jinx, shows Vi love and acceptance when she feels she lost everyone
6. is quite clearly remorseful touching the place where she hit Vi.
These are quite clear signs of her remorse. So what does that mean? It means that even if it isn’t explicitly shown I can back it up with clear examples that are content driven. None of that is speculative. It is all clear and on screen.
And some of these are harder, like this one:
“Ekko clearly didn’t dispute the use of The Grey”:
We didn’t see Ekko. We didn’t hear from him during the strike team’s mission about what they were doing. So how can I say that?
1. We know he was in Zaun
2. He’s the firelight commander and has been battling Silco/shimmer for years for his people
3. He fights for the people of Zaun
These are all indisputable. And I can source each of these details directly from content. So sometimes you have to dig alittle deeper. But you can still support your ideas with plain on screen evidence.
*An Important Note*
We must also be careful not only to be sure we only use detail we can back up, but that we don’t exclude detail that does not support us. A great example for this is this one:
EXAMPLE: Caitlyn lost her mom and acts like that single loss justifies a full on dictatorship.
Now someone like me would come along and list the multiple times Jinx almost killed Caitlyn, the total eradication of Caitlyn’s faith in the pre-existing system after Marcus tried to murder her, the deaths of many of her peers in front of her, her abduction and possible torture at Jinx’s hands, listening to Jinx try and convince Vi to murder her, sparing Jinx at Vi’s pleading then watching Jinx murder her mother.
Now I’ve come and used all those details you left out and made you look silly. No one wants that! So be sure to include everything relevant. If its a good take it will survive it.
Conclusion:
So, using this guide hopefully you can craft your next analysis with the detail and content and avoid interactions with unpleasant folks like me. Just remember! Let’s leave the imagination in fanfics and keep the analysis to the content itself. Don’t worry though, if you lose track I’m here to help you out.
#arcane#vi arcane#caitlyn kiramman#jinx arcane#caitvi#arcane season 2 spoilers#arcane season 1#vi and jinx
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This post is going to be a bit heavy and boring. I'll talk about Astarion, but also about real life, so if you're not interested, scroll away without hesitation!
So, lately, I've been pretty pissed off. I feel like I'm being made fun of by certain comments I see around regarding Astarion's redemption arc—how I supposedly have some kind of "Florence Nightingale syndrome" that makes me want to "fix" him with the power of my love (a syndrome that, in real life, would obviously put my own life at risk) and how I’m supposedly willing to justify anything he does just because he's traumatized. Seriously? So I must be some kind of idiot, a lovestruck teenager who knows nothing about how the world works, who's never stepped outside her house, who's never had a healthy relationship, and so on. And that pisses me off. Because maybe, just maybe, I know something more, not less.
And that’s exactly why I read between the lines, why I don’t judge instantly, and why I don’t delude myself into believing in the power of love as some kind of absolute force that magically fixes everything just because. Maybe the love we're talking about here has nothing to do with romanticizing (butterflies in the stomach, kisses and cuddles, "I’m the only one for him, and for me he’ll do this or that") a horrific situation—one where a man has been mentally and physically broken, one that comes with a whole range of possible unhealthy behaviors that could be dangerous to himself and others.
Maybe we’re talking about something more real, about lived experiences, about how people can support and help each other crawl out of the darkness. About how love simply means being there, without necessarily doing anything. In both good times and bad, because healing isn’t a straight line. There are ups and downs. Love means being aware of the struggles and working hard on them, it means listening, accepting, waiting, being patient. It means pushing back when necessary, confronting the person you love, and stopping them from hurting themselves. It also means giving up, running away, screaming at the sky, and then coming back more determined than before—even knowing you might have to start the process all over again.
Are the people who love this hard just idiots who think they can "fix" their loved ones with the power of love? And what if it were your child? Fuck no, I won’t accept that! That’s a message that cannot and must not spread, not when there are people out there fighting this battle every single day.
Sure, there are plenty of lost causes in this world, and yes, real danger exists. But the key is being able to recognize them. No one wants to be a martyr, but there will always be someone worth fighting for. Because yes, loving someone who struggles—with depression, personality disorders, eating disorders, anxiety, PTSD, etc.—is a fight. But that doesn’t mean they don’t deserve love.
And Spawn Astarion is not a lost cause. He comes from a background of every kind of abuse imaginable. He’s an asshole because he has to be (and he’s also a fucking vampire!), but then—something changes. Possibilities open up before him. And immediately, he shows he can adapt, that he can learn, that he wants to change.
And when that internal drive is there (that inner force of the individual himself, which makes all the difference in the world), you can’t and shouldn’t ignore it—even in real life.
It’s not about "fixing" someone. It’s about helping them feel better, about helping them achieve their goals (yes, their goals—even when they can’t quite articulate them), about changing in a healthier way, about healing. Because Spawn Astarion wants to live more than anything else. And he wants to do so fully, not as a broken man.
That’s why he approves when Tav/Durge tells him he just needs to find a place for himself, that he can find so many people willing to care for him if only he is willing to care for them. That’s why he approves when Tav/Durge reminds him—despite his fear, despite the intoxicating scent of blood—that maybe, just maybe, ascension isn’t what he truly wants. He approves. There’s no room for misinterpretation here—this is as sincere as it gets.
And in both cases, these situations are directly opposed to his obsession with taking Cazador’s place.
But, going back to the point—thinking that the power of love can magically fix everything is stupid. But we also cannot allow the message to spread that, in real life, a person who struggles due to trauma (and hell, it doesn’t even have to be torture in a dark dungeon—it could be something as "simple" as a profound loss) is incapable of healing or being loved, despite the difficulties. It’s not easy, but there are men and women in this world with immense strength and hearts big enough to do this and more.
If this isn't for you, fine. No one is forcing you. But make room for these heroes instead of spouting nonsense.
Now, fortunately, BG3 is a fantasy game where you can do literally anything, freely, even recklessly, without any real risk. And that’s fine—let’s have fun experimenting, living out our fantasies, being heroes (after all, we’re not actually picking up swords and charging into hordes of pissed-off goblins), becoming ultimate villains, bringing the world to its knees, killing anyone who gets in our way.
But when we bring real life into the discussion to make a point or compare it to the game, let’s do so with a little more thought and tact. Kindness is a virtue, not a flaw.
And to end on a lighter note—hell no, I don’t approve of everything Astarion says or does! I try to understand him, to grasp the many whys behind his actions, but if I had him in front of me, I’d straight-up say, "Oi, what the fuck are you doing?! Asshole!" I’d argue with him, I’d get mad at him—just like I did in my playthroughs.
And for the record, I never had to step off my heroic path to gain his approval. I simply disagreed with him when I felt it was right and treated him kindly when he needed it.
Honestly, earning his approval in this game is the easiest thing in the world—let him drink your blood, trust him (defend him from the other companions’ suspicions), let him decide how to handle his diet (which, honestly, is a fair compromise), tell the devil to go to hell (xP), and do something ridiculously stupid like giving him the necromancy book, interrupting the two ogres having sex, licking a goblin’s boots, and getting whipped a little—voilà! Suddenly, you have Astarion in your arms, and you haven’t even had time to save the druid grove yet.
In my very first playthrough, with my super-good Selûne cleric who was always helping the needy, I was actually trying to romance Shadowheart—when I somehow found myself magically in a relationship with Astarion just because I told him, "I care about you" (the same reason I didn’t let him bite the pervy drow). Lol.
Ok, I'll try not to make any more heavy posts like this. I feel a bit like a broken record, singing the same song over and over—sorry about that. And of course, have a great day, everyone! <3
#astarion#astarion ancunin#baldur’s gate 3#bg3#bg3 astarion#baldurs gate astarion#astarion bg3#baldurs gate 3 astarion#spawn astarion
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(Vent) Why I’m deeply emotionally attached to Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel compared to my life
Ever since the incident I made at DA, I go to tumblr, and the only people who cared about me is @nicky-toony27, @leftunknown, @lizzietherwbychibifan, @sakiohappychan, @softpawsxd, @halliedrawz, @emo-gals-4life, @cxrxmelchoco, @manekimelikawaii, and TazyanaDevil. But what about the others from DA?, they hate me, They don’t even love me for what I’ve done, So I have no choice to but to hide from them and have a deep hatred for them, especially God himself. That’s why I’m starting to get attached by the works of Satan to keep me alive and thriving. Like almost everyday, I’m so fucking emotional, even today I school, I cried but many people don’t notice this. The real reason why I’m so emotional is about the past, faking my death, my former friends on DA neglecting me for what I’ve done, hurting people on tumblr by making them leave, Someonefromyt making a callout doc out of all the mess I made, a user insulting my interests of Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss, my best friend Promni deactivating due to her parents. And bottleing up all of my emotions.
And sometimes I feel like people just don’t like the same interest as me, they think I’m weird, or demonic, or whatever. I’m like obsessed with Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss, I’m mainly a helluva boss fan. I don’t support the creator for some reasons. I just get excited when someone mentions demons or Helluva Boss. But some of my friends are not into that, which makes me feel like I’m the only one. Helluva Boss is basically what my life is like, I feel like I’m Blitzø and all of my friends are basically Millie, Moxxie, and Loona. And there are times where I imagine that I joined I.M.P and I want to be part of their family, especially Stolas and Octavia, This is the perfect example, I wish I could be in the picture too, but they’re just fictional characters, this shows how much I love my friends on tumblr:
This GIF made me feel so fucking emotional, but there are other things too I wanna put on, Basically when I tell someone if they love Helluva or Hazbin, some say they like it, but others, they don’t. . . . . . . . This sort of hurts me how I feel so deeply attached on Helluva Boss. And I feel like I’m the odd one out from them, This web series is like a way to escape from my harsh reality. And I often compared my friends to random helluva boss or Hazbin hotel characters. It hurts that I’m so obsessed over a show than reality and my friends. And there are times where I just want to have a romantic partner, I get it’s hard to find a soul mate, what if he doesn’t treat me fairly or respect my boundaries? What if he likes Demons? What if he’s just like Rhylie? . . . . . . . . What if, People think I’m nothing but an obsessed idiot who has Helluva Boss as her life than her own reality? That’s why I get people don’t like it, and I get that, if they don’t like it. . . . . . I guess I’m left out from them. . . . . . . . I have feelings too, I just wish they could understand my emotions more than ignoring it. . . . . . . . I wish I could go back in time to fix everything I fuck up. . . . . . . I just want to spend more time with my old and new friends. . . . . . . . I just want to be happy again. . . . . . . . I want to loved again. . . . . . . I wish Promni came back to help me. . . . .
@crystalline-loptous @chellys-catbox @dazzle-expandism @sleepi-toasti @glitchy-across-aus @sicdios @sketchymenace @karinathebutterwolf2k5 @pennyroyald @gothiestarzsuki @torrentialchaos @9mysterybook6
#vent post#vent#personal vent#tw vent#vent art#sorry for the vent#i want to be happy#i’m tired#helluva boss#hazbin hotel
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Head Over Heels Part 10
Jackson!Joel / Reader
Special Guest Appearance by a Certain FBI Agent who may or may not look a lot like Joel.
You left the loneliness of your home and headed to Jackson with Joel and the teenage girl he was with, hoping your new life would be less lonely. You should've stayed alone.
WARNING:
Non-canon Compliant, Pining, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Joel Lives (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy, Loneliness, Trauma.
MEGA WARNING: Descriptions of Attempted Sexual Assault.
@copperhalfcent @joelalorian @vickie5446 @peelieblue @nandan11 @liciafonseca @senoratess @denisanoemi @lovefreylove @heartpatch
SERIES MASTER LIST
Part 9
---
You stood outside that door for a while, even had time to sit down and rest between knocks. No one answered the door. You felt like you’d been knocking for hours when the door finally opened, a bewildered looking Joel frowning at the sight of you.
“Ellie asked me to meet her here. I knocked, but…”
“Door wasn’t locked. Why didn’t you just come in?”
“Erm, I don’t know about you, Joel, but I was taught that it was rude to barge into people’s homes without knocking.”
He smiled.
And for the first time since knowing him, you realized it.
He was actually smiling.
He tilted his head inwards, silently asking you to come in. You did. “You don’t ever have to knock when coming here, Elena. This will always be your home. Even if you are not living in it,” he said, shutting the door behind him.
“After what I saw at Liv and Diana’s, I won’t be barging in without knocking anywhere ever again, thank you very much. No more accidental bare asses for me. Nu’uh. That one time was enough.”
His smile got wider, his dimple showing.
You didn’t know what came over you, but you took a step towards him and placed your left pinkie in the dip of his dimple. His eyes closed involuntarily, his head tilting for more contact than you were offering. You opened your hand, palming his cheek, and his hand came up to cover yours, his head moving like a cat’s, nudging his face into your palm.
“You shaved,” you whispered, hardly able to keep your eyes opened yourself. You had no idea why it came out as a whisper. But it did. You found yourself fighting the urge to just place your other hand on his other cheek and pull his lips down to your own.
“I thought you liked clean shaven men,” he whispered back, his eyes still closed.
“I liked you with the scruff. Always wondered what they would feel like against my face,” you heard yourself say.
Shit. Where did that come from?
His eyes snapped open. But they were not the usual sharp, angry Joel Miller eyes, they were soft, albeit shocked, curiously searching your own for answers.
“You did?”
You pulled your hand off his face, but he wouldn’t let go of your hand. Fuck. Why did you say that out loud? Sure, this was a thought you couldn't stop thinking about since your crush developed, but he didn't need to know that.
Fuck. You'd spoiled this new, good thing you two had been having now.
You took a step back, your entire body feeling like they had taken a darker shade of red. But he took a step towards you instead. You couldn’t even lift your head up, your eyes focused on his knees for whatever reason.
“Elena,” his voice was so soft, almost pleading.
You looked up to him, your lips trembling from how embarrassed and nervous you were. Were you really gonna do this? Were you really gonna tell Joel Miller you’d had a helpless crush on him all this while?
He took both of your hands in his.
“Elena, did you mean what you said?”
You nodded, bracing yourself for his rejection, his mocking, anything.
“Since when?”
Your heart was thundering so hard you were surprised he couldn’t hear it.
“Maybe the third or fourth time we met.”
He stared at you, trying to find out if you were fibbing, but took a chance and told you, "I have you beat, then."
“What do you mean?”
“I fell for you the moment I saw you. I literally fell head over heels for you, Elena.”
What?
You couldn’t believe it. All this while?
“But… you never acknowledged me. You never spoke to me.”
“Neither did you.”
Okay, he’s got you there.
“I couldn’t. Tess. She’s my friend,” you said, touching the necklace she gave you. “Why had you never said anything?”
He smiled a little, “Tess… I was with her, I couldn't do that... and Bill... He didn’t want me anywhere near you. Watched me like a hawk and warned me to stay away from you.”
You could only smile sadly back at him.
Well, there was no use being mad at Bill now.
“You really prefer the scruff?”
You nodded, laughing a little.
“Then no razor shall touch my face from now on. I only shaved because…” he stopped, looking a bit flustered. He scrunched his face a little, awkwardly telling you, "I thought you preferred clean shaven men… like Marcus."
You laughed out loud, his face turning redder by the second. “Marcus is my friend, Joel. I don’t see him like that.”
He looked genuinely relieved, laughing at himself over his own insecurity. He placed his hand on your cheek, so happy you didn’t swat it away.
“Can we have a do-over?” you asked him, hope filling your heart. “Maybe, get to know each other again?”
“Maybe I can take you out, or something?” he asked, his eyes fixed on your yours. It was strange, but very much welcomed.
“Like a date?”
He blushed so hard it was hard not to tease him. Give me a break, he said. He hadn’t asked anyone out in 25 years. Your smile faltered a little bit, "Not even Vanessa or Esther?"
“I have never been interested in them. As far as I'm concerned, Vanessa’s just someone in my patrol team. Esther’s just someone I fixed something for once. She came to me at the Bison asking me if I could fix her cabinet. I asked her some questions, went over the next day and when I was leaving, she tried to kiss me. I said no. I told her I’m not interested. Many, many times.”
You took his hand off your face, sitting down on the couch. “You walked Vanessa to the greenhouse, Joel, and you took Esther to Betty’s birthday.”
He sat next to you, telling you he had never actually walked Vanessa to the greenhouse. She misunderstood. He was always on his way to pick you up, and she happened to be on her way out of her house. She thought he was walking her, but really, he was just trying to make an effort with you.
And Esther, he just wanted to shut Tommy up. And, in his defence, he made sure he was the least presentable he could be that night, not that he was a presentable man in the first place. So the fact that he went on 'the date' in sweaty, muddy clothes fresh out of patrol with his hair looking like a bird's nest and his pits stinking said a lot. She just didn’t get the hint at first.
Okay, that’s a bit better then. But...
"If you really do feel that way about me, why did you ignore me? Why didn't you tell me when we were literally living under the same roof? I thought you didn't want me here," you whispered, your eyes filling with tears, the hurt he caused coming back to your mind.
He hung his head in shame, "I was terrified you didn't feel the same way, and that morning you made us breakfast... I just kept thinking... what if i got used to this and something happened to you? For real? How would I survive? I can't..." his lips quiverred, his eyes moistened, and he swallowed hard, trying to keep his emotions at bay.
"I'm sorry I made you feel like that, Elena. Trust me, it's not you. It's me. I have a problem, but I'm trying to be better, I'll do better... please... give me a chance, Elena, I won’t hide from you anymore. I'll answer any questions you have, I promise. Do-over?”
You nodded. “Do-over.”
His hand was back on your face, and this time, it was you who couldn’t help but close your eyes at the sensation. You leaned into his hand, putting your own hand over his. You could feel him move closer to you, his breath blowing softly on your face.
“SORRY! Sorry, I was babysitting Jake and… oh shit,” the sound of the door wrenching open and Ellie’s shout made you and Joel jump away from each other as if someone threw ice cold water on you. You looked at the teenager, the most disappointed look on her face. “Fuck... did I just interrupt a first kiss attempt? I’ll go back out, pretend I was never here,” she yelled, her voice fading as she ran out, slamming the door behind her.
You and Joel stared at each other for a while before bursting out laughing. You stood up, telling him you should go after her. She actually needed help with her homework, so you should get to it. He nodded, standing up to open the door for you. See you around, you told him. See you at dinner, he said, opening the door.
**********
You went out into the hall from the kitchen carrying a tray of mashed potatoes to pass on to Hank, the man in charge of the mess hall. People were already milling around, waiting for his say so to begin getting dinner. You saw Marcus standing with Will and Tommy somewhere near the entrance, talking animatedly to each other. You went back inside, getting the green beans and came back out and this time, Esther had joined the little group, standing next to Marcus, batting her eyelashes at him. You tilted your head towards them when Diana came out to pass the baskets of apples to you, her face morphing into one of annoyance, giving you a ‘what do you expect from her?’ kinda look. You just raised your eyebrows at her, shaking your head a little.
“Hey, Elena!” Esther’s voice rang out. You turned to see her marching towards you, her nostrils flaring. “What the fuck is your problem with me?”
What?
“I don’t know how you’ve managed to keep Joel away from me, but now you turned Marcus against me? You can’t have them both, Elena. Your witchcraft doesn’t fool me. How is it that you had both the hottest men in Jackson wrapped around your little finger? You’re not even dating either of them! What, you don’t want them but no one else can have them? What a greedy bitch!”
“Esther, stop,” Maria coming over to pull her back from being in your face.
“Oh, here comes your Mayor friend. Must be nice to have friends in high places, huh Elena? Of course she’s on your side!” she was positively screaming by now. The whole hall had gone quiet, everyone just watching this woman lose her head at you.
“Esther,” Maria sounded exasperated by now, “Stop. If men are not interested to go out with you, Elena has nothing to do with it.”
Esther huffed, “She said something to them. I’m sure of it. No men has ever resisted me before those two. It’s her, I know it.”
Some of the men in the hall snorted, some just started snickering outright.
“What are you all laughing at? You know I’m right. None of you said no to me,” she snarled.
“Yeah, that’s because you gave it out for free, Esther. Notice that none of us went back for seconds,” a man’s voice said.
The whole hall turned to see who it was.
Pete. Vanessa’s husband. According to what you’d heard, he was basically the male version of Esther, except he’s married.
Esther was seething. You could see her chest heaving. She picked up the bread knife from the serving table and started towards you. You didn’t even flinch, striking her in the face with the lower palm of your hand as hard as you could.
She fell back, the knife clattering to the ground, her hand on her nose. Blood was pouring out of her nostrils, very quickly staining her exposed cleavage and dress.
“You broke my nose! You bitch!” she got back up and picked up the knife, Will and Marcus stopped her, Will disarming her with his knee. She screamed, telling everyone he dislocated her shoulder. Maria rolled her eyes, telling them to take her to the doctor, and then to the quarantine house. They took her out, her screaming profanities at you and Maria, spitting on anyone who was in her way.
Maria turned to check if you were okay, her face switching into panic as she saw your arm. You looked down to see a gash on your left forearm. Esther must’ve managed to slash you. Blood was dripping down your fingers, and you placed your other hand on the gash to stop the bleeding.
The crowd parted, and Joel rushed towards you, his face scrunched up with worry. He tore a strip off his flannel, pulling you gently to sit on a chair nearby.
“Take your hand away, darling,” he said, quickly wrapping the strip on your gash as soon as you did, tying it as tightly as he could. Despite the sharp pain from your injury, you could still feel the blush creep on your face at his term of endearment for you. He looked at Maria, anger clearly written all over his face, “Esther did this?”
Maria didn’t answer. Joel got up and began to stride out the door, but Tommy stopped him. Joel fought his brother, telling him to step aside, unrelenting until you called his name. He stopped, quickly turning around to get to you.
“Don’t lose it, Joel. I’m fine, a few stitches at most,” you told him.
“She cut you.”
“And I broke her nose.”
“You did?” he couldn’t help but look impressed, looking at Maria, who proudly nodded. She told him to take you to the clinic and proceeded to tell the hall that the show was over.
As Joel helped you up and guided you out of the hall, his arm around you, Vanessa watched from her table with a sad, longing look on her face. Joel had stayed completely away from her, even during patrol, spending more time with other riders, deliberately so.
Pete noticed, following her line of sight, before angrily telling her that he was right there. She coldly responded that so was she, and yet, he still went galivanting around town fucking every women who would have him.
Pete watched as you stopped to get your keys from Diana, who gave you a big hug. He had always watched you, he thought you were beautiful, but you were not that… interesting… for his taste. Bit too old for his liking. But tonight, seeing how feisty you were, and how much Joel Miller, the man he knew his wife was losing her mind over cared about you, he had a new mission in mind.
**********
Esther was sitting on the chair in the middle of the makeshift courtroom, a disbelieving look on her face. Sewage management, or patrol. Those were her choices as punishment for her actions in the hall last night.
She didn’t want to be on sewage duty. It stunk. Gross.
And being on patrol was scary. She could die.
She wanted to stay at the saloon, where she was safe and could spend all her time getting pretty.
She asked the committee what your punishment was. Nothing, Maria said.
“She broke my nose!”
“Because you lunged at her with a knife.”
“She humiliated me!”
“You humiliated yourself.”
“She called me a whore!”
“All of us were there, even we can testify she did no such thing.”
“Oh, come on Maria. You’re just defending her because she’s your friend.”
“Am I? You attacked a resident of Jackson for no reason at all, Esther. You must face the consequences. If she had done the same to you, she would’ve faced consequences too.”
Esther opened her mouth to retaliate, but Hank reminded her to choose her words very, very carefully. She shut her mouth after that, thinking about the choice she had to make.
“Will I at least be on Joel’s team for patrol?”
“I wouldn’t count on it. He’s furious at you right now.”
“Marcus’s?”
“What is wrong with you Esther?” Maria snapped. “Even now, all you could think of is getting it on with these men who clearly said no to you?”
Esther slumped on her chair, defeated.
“I just don’t get why they are so crazy for her.”
Ike finally spoke up, sitting straight on his chair.
“Maybe they like her because she’s nice? Because she actually talks to them? Be friends with them?”
Esther rolled her eyes, conceding to sewage management instead.
**********
“What the heck are you doing here?” Joel’s voice boomed in the kitchen as you cracked the God knows however many eggs you were cracking into the pot.
“Working?”
He took a deep, frustrated breath, walking towards you.
“Stay right there, Mister, you haven’t got a hair net on. This is a kitchen, I don’t need people finding hair in their scrambled eggs.”
He put his hands up, staying put. “You were supposed to be home resting,” he said, his voice softening.
“I told her that, it’ll be easier to just pick her up and carry her home,” Diana said, aggressively chopping the potatoes.
Joel made a contemplative face, and you raised a hand at him, telling him you would scramble him in the pot too if he so much as tried to pick you up.
“Just let the man take you home, Elena,” Marcus’s tired voice came chiming in, Will and Benny standing with him, shaking their heads at you. They’d been out on patrol all night, stopping at the hall for some breakfast before going home to sleep their weariness away.
“Go, Elena, please,” Benny pleaded.
“It’s just a cut, guys, I’m fine…” you sighed.
“Elena…” Will warned with a tone you had heard since birth, the one he only used when he was too tired to deal with your excuses whenever he tried to get a very stubborn you to go to bed, the one that meant he was about to lose it, and like a Pavlovian dog you wiped your hands on your apron and took it off. He wouldn’t have a problem with your threats. So you hung your apron on the hook and walked out meekly, Will telling you that face wasn’t going to work on him, ever, so don’t even try it. He winked at Joel, telling him they’ll talk. He needed to learn your tricks, he said. Joel started laughing, following you out of the kitchen, before stopping abruptly when you turned to give him a stern look, giving you a cheeky smile, turning you around by the shoulder to walk you home.
It was as if he was a whole new man. Light, happy, smiley, cheery, especially around you. He was so worried that night when he brought you to the clinic, not taking his arm away from you for a second. Will and Marcus could only laugh quietly when you shot them warning glares at their sly smiles that night, knowing you would give them a hard time if they dared tease you their hunches about Joel being right all along. He stayed with you that night, sleeping on your couch, but not before sitting by your bedside until you fell asleep.
And this time, you knew you were not dreaming about the caresses you felt on your face and hair as you drifted off.
**********
“Joel?” Vanessa called out as you and Joel walked out of the hall, his arm around your shoulder. “See you at patrol in a bit?” she asked, her eyes latching on his arm on your shoulder.
“Actually, Tommy’s taking my place today. I asked for the day off,” he said.
“But…” she said, before stopping, eyeing you.
Joel whispered to you to wait for him in front of the clinic. He needed to talk to Vanessa. As soon as you were gone, he turned to face her.
“Vanessa, maybe you should be reassigned. I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be in the same team anymore.”
“No, please, Joel. I want to be with you. I like you. I feel safe with you.”
“That’s the problem, Vanessa. You can’t like me like that, telling people I walk you to the greenhouse, cooking for me, it’s not right. People talk, Vanessa. I don’t see you like that, you’re married.”
“I’ll leave him for you, Joel. Please. I love you,” she pleaded.
“Sorry, Vanessa, but I don’t feel like that about you. I never have. I never will. I’ll talk to Tommy and Maria soon, this has to stop,” he said, his voice gentle, trying hard not to dismiss her. As deluded as she was, she had never crossed the line with him. She didn’t deserve any harshness from him.
As Vanessa pleaded for Joel to reconsider, tears brimming her eyes, you were joined on the bench in front of the clinic by none other than Pete.
“You know they’re fucking, right?” he asked you.
You ignored him. Even you knew that was not true.
“We should get together, get back at them,” he cooed. “Maybe you should try a younger man for a change. I’ll show you a good time, doll.”
“Leave me alone, Pete.”
“Oh, come on, don’t be like that. I am as good as they say, you know. Come on…” he coaxed, stroking your uninjured arm with his fingers. You pulled your hand away, standing up to get away from him.
“Hey!” Joel shouted.
“Relax Miller, we were just chatting, weren’t we?” Pete said, eyes on you. “Miller won’t always be around to keep you satisfied, sweetheart. The sooner you realize that the better off you’ll be,” he said in a low voice, his lips curving into a leering smile before turning around and joining his wife, grabbing her harshly by the arm and pulling her into the hall.
“You okay? Did he touch you?” Joel asked. You shook your head, not wanting to set him off. Not wanting to separate from him at all, for that matter.
But something was telling you that that won’t be your final encounter with Pete. And you didn’t like it.
---
Part 11
#joel miller x reader#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#joel miller x you#Jackson!Joel
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I want to know what it’s like to die without actually dying.
I want to know what it’s like to be a robot. Know how it feels to have a hard steel chassis instead of flesh. Know how it feels to have wires inside me instead of nerves. Know what its like to have no lungs or heart. Know what its like to computers inside of me, and know what it’s like to have fans constantly cooling them. Know how it feels to unscrew parts of myself and screw on other parts in it’s place. To be modular in a way that only mechanical things are modular.
I want to know what it’s like to be a dragon. To fly despite being the size of a whale. To feel bullets bounce off of my body. To feel fire spilling out of my lungs and not burn at all. Feel what it’s like to bite a tower in half. Feel what it’s like to look over humanity knowing that none of them are able to hurt me. Know how it feels to have wings, and scales, and fangs, and know what it’s like to fly into space and then dive into the ocean.
I want to know what it’s like to be a spirit. To go somewhere merely by deciding that I will be there. To choose exactly what my form looks like to mortals. To pass through solids as if they were made of gas, as if they were made of mere vacuum. To not take up any space. To not need to eat, or breath, or sleep. To not be effected by the physical at all. To be free from all my mortal bounds, and to know that nothing can hurt me. I want to know what it’s like to possess someone.
I want to kill the president. And walk away from it. And have people see me on campus and casually know me as the person who killed the president.
I want to know what it’s like to be in space. To be so far away from anyone. To know a steel wall is what keeps me safe from a vast expanse of void, of a void that will kill me. And I want to come back to earth, and see all the people walking around and going about their lives. And I want to be changed by having been to space. I don’t know how I’ll be changed yet because I haven’t been to space. But I’ll be changed. I’m sure I’ll be changed.
I want to kiss a girl from a dying world. To see her walking among the ruins. And to hug her and pet her hair knowing it will all be gone soon. And to tell her it’s ok as we walk along the beach of a poison sea. And I’ll go back to my world. And I’ll tell her to come with me. Because of course I’ll tell her to come with me. But she’ll say no. That she has to be here. But that I have to go. That I have a future somewhere else. And she’ll tell me that I made her fate better by being there. And we’ll never see each other again.
I want to die on the sun. But not on impact.
I want to be able to talk to animals. I want to debate politics with an octopus. I want to know what elephants think of religion. I want to explain mathematics to a python. I want to tell my cat how much he matters to me, and I want him to be able to understand. I hope he understands.
I want to go to the afterlife just to talk to people. To chat with Ned Kelly, and Joan of Arc, and Diogenes, Jon Brown. I want to tell an ancestor from hundreds of years ago how my life is going. I want check in on all the fish my family had to flush down the toilet to make sure they forgive me.
I want more people to have the empathy for humans that they have for dogs.
I want the president to know what it’s like to die in a drone strike. And for a ceo to know what it feels like to work in a cobalt mine as a child. And for the mayor to know what it’s like to spend your birthday in jail. And for the pope to know what it’s like to be disowned as a fifteen year old. And for the richest among us to be buried in unmarked graves.
I want the earth to be infinite and flat so that we could explore it forever. Not to conquer, but just to find out more about humanity.
I want to see what a peaceful first contact looks like.
I want everyone to know that the world can be saved.
I want to see what humanity does after the revolution.
I want this story to have a happy ending.
#196#writing#my writing#leftist#leftism#creative writing#writers#writers on tumblr#writeblr#writers and poets#writerscommunity#prose poetry#prose poem#poem#poetry#original poem#dragons#dragon#robot#robots#ghosts#ghost
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A Love Letter . . .
A lovely friend reminded me of my worth tonight. It was small, but it was prominent.
So I drew this for you. Yes you, staring down at your phone when you should have been asleep hours ago, or you who’s been questioning everything in your mind with no real answer to follow. Or perhaps you’re none of those things but a simple enjoyer.
Whoever you are. You are Loved. You are Strong. You are Kind. And you are Intelligent.
It doesn’t matter what sizes you wear or how tall you are. It doesn’t matter if you’re loud, or if you’re quiet. What you enjoy, or what you hate.
What matters . . . Is that you’re human just like me.
We can’t fix everything in this life, but we can surely do everything we’re able to in order to meet whatever the world has in store for us.
Things are scary . . . And they’re unknown. The world is scary—people are scary . . . But hiding away only means that they’ve won.
I was never aware of my body until I matured. I didn’t notice the growing of my tummy or thighs. I didn’t see the marks and scars on my face, or the lack facial expressions, making people think I’m upset. The squintiness of my eyes or the smallness of my mouth. I was insecure, but in different ways.
The only reason I knew my smile was crooked was because the school photographer could never get me to smile wide enough.
In sixth grade my teacher stopped me one day and said, “Madison, I want you to know that I love your smile.” I’ve never hated it since.
I only noticed the beauty of my eyes when I was told that they were “windows to the soul” that you could learn anything about anyone, just by looking into their eyes. A reflection of battles untold, of sunsets yet to be seen and hills yet to be climbed.
I walk funny, I say silly things, and make silly noises when I’m stressed or need to get energy out. There are hundreds of voices in my head overlapping and looping, a side effect of my mental abilities, which can only be calmed by music. My hands feel dirty even though I’ve washed them ten times, and it only stops when I just let my hands sit under the running water for two seconds.
Math never made sense to me but I could tell you a 110 facts about animals I’ve never seen in real life. I can explain every Ninja Turtle universe/generation without blinking an eye. I collect things that make me happy. Movies are my love language, my guilty pleasure is watching kids movies that are clearly bad but no one ever had the guts to actually watch and see if it was. I love to laugh but find myself crying more every year.
I’m a story teller, an artist, a creator of beautiful things. I have thousands of worlds inside my head, a woman lives there too. A woman who reflects what I see when I forget about my mirror image. The world, the people, they inspire me. Yet I’m terrified of making it wrong, offending someone, or breaking a rule within the confines of a set system, even if that means destroying what I worked so hard in making.
I could rant and rant for hours. My special super power when someone finally asks questions about . . . me. About who I am.
I’m too loud, too quiet, too slow but I walk too fast, too short, but I’m average height, too spacey yet I remember the little details. Saying never mind doesn’t help, and actually hurts my feelings because I couldn’t hear you, I lost part of my hearing when I was ten and it can’t be fixed. I make weird gasping sounds but I’m only popping my ears to relieve the constant pressure.
My knees click, I have the muscle strength of an 85 year old because I’ve been in the work force for over six years. I’m blind as a bat and get overwhelmed when I can’t see, so much so that I’ve mapped out an entire root to get to certain locations when I don’t have my glasses.
I’m well thought out but I take too long so people don’t think I even looked at their message. I speak as if I have a point to the end of my story. They changed the sizing again so now I can’t wear what I thought would fit. You can tell me any secret in the world and I’ll forget two seconds later. I complain too much but never say anything.
I’m stubborn but that’s only because you cut me off. You don’t let me finish. My heart has become weak because it’s been abused from using too much kindess, too much naivety. People and things, have hurt me in ways you can’t imagine—but the moment I say why, you shun me? You tell me I’m wrong because you have a different opinion? That all my efforts of staying away from this were nothing?
My inner thoughts are filled with demons. I care too much about everyone that instead of seeing the beauty that’s obviously there, that I acknowledge the moment I see it, I judge them. The things I could say if only my mouth would open, if only my jaw would unclench. Sins of my childhood still linger, causing me to look at people inappropriately because . . . that’s what the internet said I should see.
I am human.
And that . . . is beautiful.
You are beautiful.
All life matters. So stop trying so hard to pretend it doesn’t.
I love you.
Isn’t that enough?
Even if we’ve never met, even if I knew everything you’ve EVER done. I still love you. I still care.
Like is different than love. I don’t have to like you to love you.
You are irreplaceable.
You are . . . beautiful.
And that itself is beautiful . . . Isn’t it?
Sincerely and with all the love I have to offer . . .
Thank you.
Madison
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✨show your blorbos✨
make a post showcasing all of your blorbos and then tag some friends to do the same!!
tysm @itwasntimethatdidit40 @baronessvonglitter @probablyreadinsmut and @slimybeth69 for the tags <3
I think I got a little deep here ooooopsie 😅😂
Aragon -> Who doesn’t love a brooding, morally complex hero who would risk everything for the greater good?
Samwise Gamgee ->
Listen, Samwise Gamgee is the real hero of Lord of the Rings, and I’m not even going to apologize for it.
Without him, Frodo never would have made it. He just proves that you don’t need to be a king, a warrior, or a legend to make a difference—you just need to be kind, loyal, and willing to fight for what’s right. My love my baby boy he's just so damn sweet 🥺
Joel Miller -> I mean I think we all know about this guy no explanation needed. Pixel and Pedro versions
Arthur Morgan -> He’s everything I didn’t know I needed in a character. Despite everything he’s done, he’s fiercely loyal to the people he loves. His actions may be messy, but they’re always driven by a sense of duty to his gang, and as much as he tries to harden himself against feelings, his kindness breaks through in the most surprising ways. Arthur is constantly giving, even when he has nothing left to give.
David Rose -> He makes me laugh until I cry. David is both the disaster and the love of my life, and I definitely quote him way too often. He gets me
Glenn Sturgis is so pure, it physically hurts. He’s awkward, a little too nice for his own good, and honestly kind of a mess. He’s the kind of guy who wants everyone to be happy, and he genuinely believes in the goodness of people, even when the world around him constantly tries to prove him wrong. There’s something about his unshakable optimism and his genuine care for his employees that makes you just want to protect him at all costs.
Chandler Bing -> There’s just something about his dry humor that gets me every time. He’s the king of one-liners, but underneath that, there’s this sweet, kind heart that cares so much about his friends (and especially Monica—don’t even get me started on how perfect they are)
Benedict Bridgerton -> The artist in a sea of prim and proper aristocrats. He’s the one who sees through the shallow expectations of high society and craves something more meaningful, something real. He’s a dreamer, which same, honestly. His heart is filled with creativity, passion, and a need to find himself outside of his family’s expectations, and I feel that in my soul.
Marceline the Vampire Queen -> First of all, can we talk about how cool she is? I mean, she's a centuries-old vampire with an electric bass, a badass attitude, and a penchant for chaos. She's a walking contradiction, and I am HERE for it. Marceline is fierce, unapologetically herself, and doesn’t take anyone’s crap. But under all that badassery is a deep, complex soul that’s been through more than anyone could imagine. She’s a girl dealing with abandonment, trauma, and a complicated relationship with her father. This show has done so much for me and this character too <3 I love her forever and always
Roger -> Beyond all the wild costumes and absurd antics, Roger is surprisingly deep in his own messed-up way. His loneliness, his need for validation, and his desperation for attention make him such a fascinating character. Yes, he’s self-centered and loves to stir the pot, but he’s also a deeply insecure, lonely alien who just wants to belong. How can you not empathize with that? He’s a mess, but he’s my mess. I love him for it.
Tina Belcher -> Tina is the ultimate awkward queen. Aka me. She’s so unapologetically herself, even when she’s fumbling through social interactions and getting lost in her own thoughts. She’s also brilliant in her own way. She has this fierce, weird confidence that shines through when it counts. She’s not trying to be cool or impress anyone—she’s just doing her thing, and that’s what makes her such a legend.
Donkey -> He’s everything: hilarious, loyal, loving, and just unapologetically himself. He’s chaotic but also full of heart, and I would honestly die for him.
npt: @thundermartini @milla-frenchy @ace-turned-confused @604to647
@sawymredfox @arcanefox207 @gothcsz @almostfoxglove @almostempty
@aurorawritestoescape @evolnoomym @reddedmiller @myownwholewildworld
@persephone-girl @sunshinehaze @sunshineispunk @swankyorange @cxrsed-angel
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unpopular opinion might get canceled but like something i think cis people don’t really understand when equating all queer people as having the same struggle socially is that being trans is SO much different than being gay. i know lesbian and gay and bisexual cis people who i don’t even KNOW are queer until they’re dating someone because they don’t talk about it, trans people most often DO NOT HAVE THAT LUXURY! as a trans person, i am judged constantly before people even talk to me, it is a struggle directly associated with my outward image. for YEARS i’ve seen people’s polite smiles disappear at the sight of my face, just because my hair is cut and i darken my eyebrows. their hatred i feel is not for my “life choice” but directly for ME as a person.
and gay people feel that too, but it’s a very different type of personal prejudice. you can hide it just by not mentioning it. with being trans i just don’t have that luxury, and i find myself being devalued as a member of my family, friends, and overall peers, i see my opinions overlooked and my feedback dismissed just because the people around me know that i use a different name and look than the one assigned to me. my cis queer peers don’t see that kind of discrimination nearly as much where i’m from, and it makes me almost jealous.
i find so much joy in being gay, having love for another man gives me no shame, and even when others place their shame upon me i am rarely hurt by it because that part of my identity is based on love and happiness
being trans in public brings me pain and strife, because no matter how much i love myself for it others can never find in me what i know is inside of me because they judge me before i even get a chance to show them
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1. What is the main lesson of your story? Why did you choose it?
I feel like a lot of these questions reveal a very different approach to writing to mine. I don’t set out to impart lessons, I’m not interested in writing didactically.
Unlikely Salvation has I guess some kind of lesson about change or forgiveness or that hurting people radicalises them and helping each other is the only way to mend rifts or something. But all of that grew organically, and there’s also a lot of fucked up stuff in there, a lot of “don’t try this at home”. Alex is way too forgiving early in the story, that’s not coming from a healthy place, that’s not a moral recommendation. It’s just an interesting thing for him as a character to do.
I think my other stories are further from having any “lessons” in them. Shit just happens, in some kind of sequence.
2. What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding?
Large parts of the Resistance ‘verse were made up by my co-author, so I can’t speak to that. The structure and behaviours of the feds are mostly based on reading about real-world fascist organisations.
My BBU works are obviously very heavily inspired by other BBU stories, especially the way @ashintheairlikesnow writes it.
Annihilation is purely vibes. I’m throwing in everything that feels cool to me at the time and I couldn’t name where those ideas are coming from. (I’m more likely to be able to put my finger on it in retrospect, once the shape of it comes clearer.)
3a. What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them?
Ariadne, my prime blorbo, is primarily motivated by seeking atonement, and by seeking Victory for her Cause.
Smith and Spider are mostly just trying to survive. Spider later trying to carve out her own identity.
Nikef is trying to win a war, preferably without losing what’s left of her selfhood along the way. Ahden is trying to keep Nikef alive and sane and not deciding to murder everyone.
I, the writer, am trying to tell interesting stories with characters who feel three-dimensional and textured.
3b. Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness or help the reader grow as a person?
No.
4. How many chapters is your story going to have?
Don’t know, don’t care. I’m not trying to write complete, finished things at this time in my life. Honestly I find the notion a bit intimidating, and while I’m sure I could do it and probably will at some point in the future, at the moment writing is mostly an outlet for random creative energy. I write out of order and at a whim.
5. Is it fan fiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?
Original content. Only putting it on tumblr at present. If tumblr went away or became intolerable, I’d probably move it somewhere else, since enough people seem to enjoy it.
6. When did you start writing?
I don’t remember a time when I didn’t, honestly. Probably around the time I learned to, physically, write. There have been years and patches of years where my output was very low, but I’ve always made up stories and scrawled at least some of them down.
7a. Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr?
It’s been said before, but write whatever you feel like writing. If you enjoy your story, if it matters to you, if it has meaning to you, that stuff will come through in your writing.
Don’t worry too much about quality. You’re always learning, you can always go back and edit stuff if you want it to be better. Stressing too much about the quality of output just gets you stuck in a loop of infinite editing or worse feeling too bad to write at all.
7b. What other writers do you follow?
So many. I’ve recently listed a few favourite stories. I’m following *checks* 279 blogs write now and I’d estimate 90% of them are writers.
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I’m terrible at coming up with people to tag but uhhhh @mottinthemainpot, @justplainwhump ? No pressure.
Tag Game: Author Ask Tag
thxxxxxxx @sacratos for the tag!
Question Template: 1. What is the main lesson of your story? Why did you choose it? 2. What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding? 3. What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness or help the reader grow as a person? 4. How many chapters is your story going to have? 5. Is it fan fiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it? 6. When did you start writing? 7. Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr? What other writers do you follow?
1. What is the main lesson of your story? Why did you choose it?
Don’t be an idiot and actually communicate with those you love, lol. In all seriousness, I don’t know if my story has a main theme, but there are several themes for sure. The importance of having family that loves and supports you (whether found or biological), taking back autonomy of oneself, and the importance of community.
2. What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding?
Other BBU/pet whump authors! If you have written for the BBU, trust me, I have used some idea of yours as inspiration somewhere. I also use middle school me’s obsession with dystopian novels as inspiration as well.
3. What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness or help the reader grow as a person?
All my MCs are trying to heal, in one way or another and I want my readers to connect with my characters in some way. Not really teaching a lesson or having some big, major theme, but I want my characters to feel real and connect with the readers (yes, even if you want to kill them you cannot touch Star, he is immune from death)
4. How many chapters is your story going to have?
Hahahaha ha ha ha. . . yeah, no clue
5. Is it fan fiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?
Original content from my brain! I post it here, and only here
6. When did you start writing?
The minute I learned what stories were. I think I wrote my first “story” (bible fanfiction. No I will not be taking questions about that) when I was about seven or so, then my first full fanfiction at nine and I have not stopped since.
7. Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr? What other writers do you follow?
Read! Seriously, I cannot stress this enough! Read! And not just to compare yourselves with other writers–please don’t do that at all–but read to see how others write emotion, descriptions, characters, plots! Take what you like and figure out why you don’t like other kinds of writing, then apply what you want to your own writing. Also, your writing voice will develop in time. Don’t worry about that.
A large chunk of people I follow are writers! Can’t list all of them here, but they know who they are and their writings have inspired and shaped both my style and my content. Ilyasm!
Tagging (w/o any pressure!) @quietly-by-myself @whump-card @sparrowsage @whumble-beeee @whumpyourdamnpears and anyone else who wants to join in!
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it’s like baby gorl there’s no way I, the author who wrote the fic you’re commenting on and who is the intended audience for this comment, am gonna agree with you 😿🙏 some things can just stay on your chest 🙏
#there’s a threshold I think of what I accept in comments about characters#and their actions or about who is in the wrong or what should happen#because I do like reading people’s opinions#and sometimes when someone is like I didn’t like obi-wan in this fic#I’m like makes sense! maybe you weren’t supposed to or maybe the argument they had was supposed to not be clear cut on who is right#because arguments in real life don’t always have a clear cut winner or morally superior person lmao#I’m ok with that I’m ok with comments saying boo this character is annoying#because sometimes they just are (eg the amount of people who just don’t like obiwan in pbatmb like?? yeah of course he’s not gonna be nice#but I digress lol#anyway but there’s a threshold of when comments about not liking a character go too far and you’re just like.#saying mean things about the writing itself and that’s not something lm gonna allow to be normalized#no matter the intention behind it#you do not type a comment like this knowing it wil be send to an author#who will get an email notification about a comment#click on it and go oooo long comment :D and then go oh.#you don’t do that it’s rude it’s being a jerk#I’ve been here for like 3 almost 4 years I feel ancient in this fandom sometimes#and I’ve gotten so much feedback on my work through that time and so many nice comments and community#but mean comments can really hurt especially new writers#and they can make people who maybe would write fic for a fandom decide to not#like this isn’t even that mean I can almost see the writer just wanting to say how they feel#but sometimes you do not have to 🙏#also I just think this understanding of the characterizations in the fic and probably their understanding of the characters in the films#is a wee bit trash but that’s for me to say in the long tags of my own blog post and not for me to comment on their fics for the fandom#(they don’t have any but I did check because 3am kit felt nosy)
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It’s so embarrassing and heartbreaking being in so much pain over losing someone while knowing they don’t give a fuck if you live or die. Your favorite person becoming a stranger is a special kind of hell.
#I fucking hate having bpd#while I’m at it I don’t understand the fuckin audacity some people have to say they love you and do horrible things to you#I feel so stupid#I feel so stupid for believing all the lies#but I was so in love and put him on such a pedestal that I just allowed it all.#thinking about someone constantly and grieving over them and knowing they’re perfectly fine and to them you don’t exist#I’m still in such a state of grief and I don’t understand why time hasn’t healed#it honestly feels like it’s gotten worse w time#I just torture myself but I can’t help it my brain wants me dead#it’s so painful I feel so fucking stupid#being abandoned with no closure by someone who’s your entire world#for someone they were unfaithful to you with multiple times (I don’t even know how many and dony want to know) immediately#like that was the plan all along#he took our cat hundreds of miles away and I don’t even know if he still has her or if she’s still alive and I miss her every day#I never loved someone like that and it feels like the heartbreak is actually physically killing me#i spent 1/5 of my entire life with him#I was my prettiest and had the best body at the time and I wasted it on someone who didn’t appreciate me#not wasted. it wasn’t wasted. we had some incredible times together#I’ll never be that beautiful again#and now idk what do so bc i can’t decide which is worse: being alone and isolating or loving deeply and ending up horribly hurt all over#it’s all just so upsetting.#and I feel so stupid for allowing it all#he knows more about me than anyone and he made me feel like he loved me so much sometimes and then did horrid things and it’s so fucked up#nobody read this I’m so embarrassed and horribly broken#it traumatized me so much there was so much abuse and pain idk if I’ll ever recover#I deserved it but it still hurts my heart#I was so mentally ill and sick I know it had to have been miserable to be around me#there are so many things only he understands and knows about me and I need to talk about them I j wanna b able to b there 4 each other#but that girl is so beyond insecure and controlling so. if I want to talk to who fuckin gets me I’m just fucked#why lead someone on like that for years knowing you’re going to abandon them the second it’s convenient
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