#lmao like this is the stuff I think of but don’t feel comfortable posting on main

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

I should leave this in a tag post so it's not on main but whatever, I'm in a mood and listening to "peace" for the first time in awhile along with this rambling mess from the other night puts me in my feelings because "[you know that I'd] give you my wild, give you a child" is such a vulnerable, raw, honest confession to share with someone (let alone put in a song on a Grammy-winning album) and I don't know how much clearer the pipeline from there to the events on TTPD could be but just. It's heavy, but obvious and understandable (to me). And I'm not about to delve into why because of reasons and also don't want to come across as projecting or speculating or whatever but. Once again I think if you're in a certain age bracket and life stage so much of this just makes sense inherently.

[arlertwhore]

pairing: paige bueckers x fem! reader

warning(s): nsfw/18+, fighting (verbal/physical), toxic relationship stuff, fingering, thigh riding, pussy eating, squirting,

synopsis: the bitchy, possessive, and temperamental gf who paige thinks she can handle proves her right!

word count: 2.4k

Author Note: got my first lil hate comment the other day 😜 i feel like an actual writer now lmao! here goes draft #6, comin’ in lit 🔥

Fuck knows what you're complaining about this time. She's straight from practice — from a rigorous, exhausting, and intense practice, frustrated with her own performance, only to find you waiting at the door, already irritated about something entirely. Perhaps it was how she didn’t answer you at all today—or how you saw her looking too close for comfort to another 'fan' as she claimed, though you never trusted it—or maybe she even fucking sighed at you the wrong way upon entering through the door because the littlest of things ticked you off—you—her bitchy, demanding, and infuriatingly sexy girlfriend, whom Paige has to constantly remind herself she willingly got involved with, knowing full well she was signing up for the being the figurative property of the brattiest, bossiest, most high-maintenance girl on campus.

"Are you even listening to me?!" you fume as Paige storms past you, stripping a trail of her clothes all the way to the bathroom, letting her hair fall loose from its low bun as she saunters away from your chaos, massaging her temples.

"Seriously, Y/N, now's not the time, I gotta-" - "I don't give a fuck!" you explode, chasing after her and grabbing her arm to spin her back around. "I don't care about your shitty day or your shitty excuses. Why the fuck didn't you text me back, hm?" Paige sighs, avoiding your eyes with an air of exasperation, her gaze shifting to the ceiling in an attempt to not roll them. At her silence, you feel your anger boil over, frustration evident in the clenched fist at your sides and the tense set of your jaw. "You're the fucking worst, Paige!" you snap, "You think just because I'm understanding that means you can take pictures with all these other bitches, post all on your Instagram, but then NOT text me back!"

Paige knew she was the man, the kind of person who could handle any challenge, which is why she thought dating someone like you—a real piece of work—would be a good match. She believed you could keep her on her toes, pushing her to become mentally stronger, more confident, and dominant—qualities she hoped would shine on the court, but on days like this, when you demanded drama and chaos, she wondered if she was truly cut out for it. Her honest, no-bullshitting, no-pretense attitude of: My girlfriend is so sexy opinion? Nah. And she promptly proved that stance when she spat out, “Alright, I’m sorry, baby… Is that what you want me to say? That I’m sorry I have things to do and you act like a bitch about it?” her voice venomous and defensive, stunning you. “Man, get the fuck out of my way right now. I don’t feel like fighting with you, for real,” she demanded, trying to brush past you. You couldn’t believe she actually spoke to you like that—she was usually so considerate of your feelings. In a fit of rage, you squared up to her and pushed her back by her shoulders with a strength you didn’t know you had over the 6ft wall of strength she was. Growling, you commanded, “You’re gonna stand here until WE’RE done talking!”

Paige stands with her hands on her hips, clenching at her sides with such restraint that her basketball shorts ride up, revealing her boxers underneath. She warns, "Stop playin' with me, yo. Step aside." and as she advances again, trying to get to the bathroom door behind you, you block her path, arms crossed and eyes flashing. Sneering, you challenge defiantly, "No. What are you gonna do if I don’t step aside, P? Hm? You gonna hit me?"

She takes a deep breath, drops her head, and shakes it exasperatedly before a light chuckle escapes her, broad shoulders bouncing. “Whatever, ma,” she mutters, turning around and picking up the clothes she’d left scattered on the floor. “I’m gonna go shower at Mikayla’s — forget this.”

You don’t have enough time to be angry about her saying she’s visiting Mikayla’s house—the slut you’d warned her to stay away from. Instead, you sprint to the front door, grab her keys off the rack, and hide them behind your back. Coldly, you say, “You’re mine, Paige. Turn around and get your ass in bed, NOW! You ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Paige knows you and your past well enough to recognize that you aren’t joking about this possessiveness. However, she’s far from intimidated at the moment. Instead of backing down or appeasing you like she usually does for her princess, she glares at you with a fiery defiance. Her voice is firm as she refutes, “Give me my keys, Y/N.”

You gaze at her, a smirk forming on your face as you watch her façade of nonchalance crumble. Her face turns a subtle red, veins bulging in her hands as she holds them open, waiting for the keys, her lips curled inward and cheeks hollowed. She stands there expectantly, like a statue, until you bristle as she seizes your wrist, slamming it against the door while reaching for the keys with her other hand. Instinctively, you counter with your free hand, pushing her away. She’s lost her calm and collected demeanor. It’s scarier how she doesn’t run but still chases you with the relentlessness of a predator. Her eyes blaze with determination as she follows your running with a steady, purposeful stride. You taunt, “Come and get it, doggy! Yeah, you little bitch!” luring her toward the bathroom, the only room in the house with a lock, and Paige knows exactly what you’re up doing. Just before you can slam the door in her face, Paige lunges for it and forces it open, stepping inside and backing you against the door. This time, she tries a different approach to get the keys—she clasps your waist, holding you in place with her knees pressed against your smaller legs, effectively immobilizing you. As she tussles with you for the keys, you keep a tight grip on them. The struggle is fierce, and you're both panting in each other’s faces, exchanging only ragged breaths. You finally manage to break free from the bathroom and run for the bedroom with Paige hot on your heels. As you glance over your shoulder to see where she’s at, you realize too late that she’s no longer focused on reclaiming her keys. With a swift tackle, she takes you down onto the bed, pinning you there and forcing you into submission. The keys fall out of your hand, but Paige remains on top of you, her anger unrepairable as she growls, “Wanna bitch at me like that when I’m tired?” Her big hands begin to untie your nightrobe. “Wanna piss me off when I’m trying to be nice about things?”

She moves with an almost animalistic quality, yanking you down the bed by your legs and sending your clothes flying off with the force of her pull, baring your body to her hungry blue eyes. She hisses against your neck, “Little bitch?” and you nod rebelliously, “Yeah..fuck,” you heave, “look at you, so pissed, hm?” Her words are unbearably sexy when she vows, “I’ll show you a little bitch.” Mere moments later, she’s seated on the edge of the bed, with you draped over her lap like a ragdoll. You’re writhing, still trying to resist, biting and clawing at her thighs, but Paige’s grip is unyielding. Under her strength, you’re completely powerless.

Her hands spread your ass open, giving her a clear view of your dripping pussy. She chuckles cockily, the smirk evident in her voice even though you're not looking at her when she drawls, “This is why you’re really bitchin’ out, huh, ma?”

You whine at her words, stuttering and squirming, “Let me go, Paige, f-fuck!”

She tuts dismissively. “Aw, but that’s not what you really want, baby... you just need this pussy fucked, don’t you? To get fucked back to your senses—make you my good girl again, my princess...” she purrs, her fingers sliding through your slick and teasing your asshole. Then you hear the dirtiest, most sinful suck of fingers in her mouth you’ve ever heard.

Hips arched high with her strong arm restraining you from running, pressed firmly into your lower back, punching pressure deep within and outside of you, all aligning on the inside, she works her fingers into your soaking wet cunt with precision. She curls and bruises against your walls, relentlessly hitting that spot that makes you squirm like a torture puppet and cry out, "Ah!" for your dear life.

Her smarmy, taunting response? “I know, baby, I know, fuck… too tight for it, I know,” she bellows, feeding off your whimpers and whines with a sadistic delight. That smirk on her face—the one you wish you hadn't turned back to see—tells you she's savoring this victory a little too much and has no intention of letting you go anytime soon, even if you've clearly accepted that you're the little bitch. “Please,” you plead, sinking your nails into her thigh, but it doesn’t seem to perturb her in the slightest—if anything, it only eggs her on, makes her devilishly speed up. “It won’t happen again—I-I won’t act like a bitch anymore, daddy, I’m sorry,” you submit, hoping for some mercy, but she’s unforgiving. She chuckles darkly, yanking you up by your hair so you’re forced to look her in the eye, even if hers aren’t fully focused on yours, watching how your tits bounce as she fucks you senseless. “One more time,” she stares at them, biting her bottom lip with a smirk before she refocuses and demands it sternly. Without hesitation, you repeat it louder before she even finishes her command: “I won’t act like a bitch anymore, daddy, I’m sorry!” She smirks, her grip tightening. "I know you won't. Not after I'm done with you." She releases your head, and you fall forward hard, your back arching under what feels like tons of weight as she drives into you overwhelmingly, making you cry out in shock. "Shit!" you gasp, involuntarily pushing back against her long fingers to soften the blow and the jam, so forcefully that your ass claps with each thrust as she fucks into you.

“Say my name, baby, who’s fucking you,” Paige demands. You groan, clenching around her thick, long fingers and spilling spurts of slick arousal as you pant, “You, Daddy!” Paige tilts her head, unsatisfied. “Nah.” Her hand, once forcing down your back, quickly wraps around your throat, clasping firmly as she whispers, “Tell me, Ma.” With the blonde holding you tightly, despite your attempts to escape, with no leverage, she easily grips you by the throat like a puppet, forcing you back onto her fingers with insane speed and force. She thrusts into you even faster, your clit now grinding against her thigh. You hike a leg up in a desperate attempt to run or crawl away, but she's got you firmly in place.

“Paige! Paige, Paige, Paige, you’re fucking me!” you cry out.

“And you like it, baby? Like how my fingers feel fucking that tight pussy?” she taunts, flexing her leg muscles and increasing the friction.

“Aww shit,” you moan strainedly, feeling the familiar coil in your stomach emerge. Your body still tries to crawl away, but your brain forces you to stay put, losing all the air inside you.

“Stop fucking running, ma, take it,” she commands. “Take it, baby, just cum for me, kay? Cum for me, give me your cum.”

You listen to the sound of your cunt, feel it pulsing and clenching around her fingers before you give up and stop fighting and allow all the pleasure crash over you, your body convulsing as your orgasm hits. You gasp and cry out, surrendering to the intense sensation as your cunt tightens rhythmically around her fingers, your clit throbbing against her thigh. She fucks you through your orgasm, continuing even after that, giving you no recovery time, no chance to catch your breath before she has you on your back, legs still spread and a wet mess beneath you. Leaning in, she murmurs, “Be good for me, be still, kay? Let me clean you up—jus' lemme taste you, baby.”

Your hand comes up to cover your face, crying out as you feel her tongue glide through your folds. Gripping onto her hair tightly, you sob—a genuine cry from the overstimulation. Through your tears, you manage to gasp, “Fuck, baby, it hurts so good, ugh!”

You shout and clamp your legs shut, burying her with a guttural scream once her fingers scissor your folds and hold them open, her tongue flicking exactly against your clit, making direct contact.

She pries your legs open inhumanly, like an uncaring monster, her voice resounding and vibrating in your cunt, "Hold your ankles in the air." a command.

You obey, and she’s even nice enough to help, her strong arms holding your legs apart as she laps and slurps up all your cum like she’s parched, her swallows audible and incredibly sexy.

You look down at her and watch her head shake around wildly, losing herself in the abyss, entranced. You try to push her away by bucking into her face, hands occupied, but you end up unintentionally pushing her closer instead. You whine out desperately, your toes, nipples, and cunt especially on fire. "Pl-PLEASE!" you gasp, "I c-can't, I’m gonna—" Her fingers replace her tongue on your clit, while her tongue dips inside you as she murmurs, "Mhm," You cover your face, and the last thing you hear before you pass out is the frantic noise of her tongue fighting to slip even deeper inside you. There’s the sound of a leak, then the subsequent opening of your eyes after what feels like days. You look down at your girlfriend to find her face glistening in a pool of arousal, juices smeared everywhere. Her first instinct? To lick around her mouth, trying to savor the taste as she smiles at you smugly, knowing she’s clearly gotten her point across to your fucked-out self.

Needless to say, Paige has proven herself to you as she knew she would always: she is NOT someone to be underestimated.

MASTERLIST

AUTHOR NOTE #2: uhh so i reread this and i just wanna know if anybody else reading this who writes, is it crazy i reread my own work and blush at it like a viewer 😅 am i a freak guys 😅😅😅 do you do that too?? ANYWAY GUYS PLS INTERACT WITH ME ILY ALL MWAH!

[sceletaflores]

you need a seat? i’ll volunteer!

pairing: tashi duncan x fem!reader

summary: how much of a selfish douche does patrick have to be to not beg tashi to sit on his face every night? you certainly would.

—or: you show tashi what she’s missing out on…

word count: 3.7k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, girl kissing, oral (fem!receiving), fingering (fem!receiving) but not really, cheating (i can't stop lmao), patrick catching strays, a hint of "there's only one bed" trope, kinda sad angsty wlw pining, like this got a little depressing at the end lmao, more plot than i thought it would have when i started writing it (i physically can't not write so much plot it's a disease), no use of y/n.

author's note: AHHH HAPPY PRIDE!!! this is purely self indulgent lmao no one asked for this but i just had to write it. this is my first ever wlw fic!!! I know, please stop clapping, it was my duty to post one during pride month. i'm still writing the homoerotic wlw friendship fic, i promise it's coming! i just wrote this one way faster than i thought i would lol okay hope you love it! mwah xoxo

You and Tashi sit across from each other on the bed of some fancy hotel room in Texas the night before a match against UT with a new, exciting charge in the air between you.

Actually, the two of you sit on the only bed in the room after a mix up with the hotel’s booking but “You girls are close, you don’t mind sharing? Right?”

Your coach was right, you don’t mind sharing at all. Not one bit.

You and Tashi were more than close. The two of you have been best friends since middle school, and playing tennis with each other just as long. Whether it was playing side by side or with one of you standing on the opposite end of the court. It was you and her, always.

You realized your feelings for Tashi Duncan were a little more than platonic when you were 15 years old. You were staying the night at her house, laying on her bed with your legs tangled together under the covers watching Mean Girls as Tashi idly braided your hair. It was during the Halloween party scene where Cady catches Regina and Aaron kissing when Tashi spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence between you. “Have you ever kissed a boy like that?”

You just shook your head silently, leaning further into her hands as Cady stormed out of the party on-screen. You didn’t know why she was asking you, you told her everything. If a boy kissed you like that she’d be the first to know. Tashi was silent for a few more seconds, tying off the end of your braid and resting her hands on your shoulders. 

“I could show you how,” she had said, “You know, for when guys want to kiss you like that.”

You immediately felt your heart start to race, palms suddenly sweaty. Her suggestion caught you off guard, but you think you heard that girls actually do stuff like that. It’s just practice, it’s not like it’s a big deal. Plus Tashi’s your best friend, you trust her.

You turned up to face her, searching her eyes for any hint of a joke, but you found nothing. Her face was earnest, bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she looked down at you, and her eyes filled with a mix of mischief and something deeper. 

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Tashi smiled, moving closer until your faces were inches apart. You closed your eyes as your breath mingled with hers, her hand settling softly on your jaw. The first touch of her lips was soft and sweet, sending a shiver down your spine. 

You gave in, parting your lips to let her tongue brush against yours. You felt something deep inside of you slot into place, like a missing puzzle piece finding its home. You got lost in the moment, mind going blank and fuzzy as your tongues explored each other's mouths. The thought of kissing boys suddenly felt unimportant and distant with Tashi’s lips moving against yours. 

All too soon she was pulling back, her face soft and flushed. “See? Not so scary,” she said with a smile, you swore you could hear a slight tremor in her voice. She brushed her thumb across your cheek once before she laid back against the headboard and cast her gaze to the movie still playing.

“Yeah…” you trailed off, leaning against her to watch Regina get hit by the bus. Your mind was still buzzing, the feel and taste of Tashi lingering on your lips.

That kiss changed everything for you, but the two of you never talked about it again. Tashi woke up the next morning as if nothing had changed, smiling at you over breakfast talking a thousand miles a minute about the new tennis club in town. It’s been years since then, years of pretending like you’re not really in love with Tashi Duncan, that it was just a phase. You just adore her so much, a totally normal platonic best friend kind of adoration, that’s all.

It’s well past the time you and Tashi should have been asleep by now, pre-match jitters and excitement keeping the two of you up late. You’d been talking for hours already, and somehow the topic has shifted into raunchier territory. Maybe later you’ll blame the pent-up energy for blurring your filter, but for now you were content swapping recaps of the latest hookups you’ve shared with Art for her stories with Patrick. 

The addition of Art and Patrick was definitely a new development in your relationship with Tashi. Two boys who thought they were being discreet following the two of you around the Adidas party all those months ago, taking turns chatting you up on the beach and inviting you back to their hotel room.

Then college started, and Patrick and Tashi were suddenly dating, and things sort of changed. Tashi was spending more time with him, leaving you alone to stew in your anger of feeling like the next best thing. Well not completely alone, Art was always there. In a similar situation as you, with Tashi taking up all of Patricks time when he’d visit campus. Leaving the two of you to sit in Art’s dorm sharing a handle of cheap vodka every time you got kicked out of your room so Tashi and Patrick could have some “alone time”.

Art’s hot, and he seemed to like you so it felt easy enough for the two of you to pair off like Tashi and Patrick did. You wouldn’t call it dating, friends with benefits fit better, but he was a nice distraction from the new Tashi shaped hole in your life, so you indulged. Tashi was overjoyed when she found out, so happy for you in every sense of the word. Constantly badgering you for details, like she was just before your conversation took a complete one-eighty.

“No way Patrick hasn’t asked you to do that before,” you ask a little too loudly, beyond shocked as you stare at Tashi sitting across from you on the mattress. 

She scoffs quietly, shaking her head as she picks at a loose thread sticking out of the comforter. “It’s kinda been all about him lately,” she trails off with a shrug, like that’s a good reason.

Fucking Patrick. You think bitterly, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. What a fucking loser.

You knew he wasn’t good enough for Tashi the second you met him. All flashy bravado and superficial charm, like a peacock strutting around with no substance. Tashi seems to like him enough so you bite your tongue at every dreadful detail she’s told you about their relationship, because you’re such a good friend.

Seriously though, how much of a selfish douchebag does Patrick have to be not to beg Tashi to sit on his face every night? 

You certainly would.

“Art and you do that a lot?” she asks nonchalantly, but her eyes have a certain look to them. One you can’t quite place, they’re sharper than they were before. Maybe even a tiny bit challenging, as if she’s daring you to go there. You were never one to back down from a dare, especially in front of Tashi.

You nod slowly, fingers toying with the edge of your shorts.  “A couple times.”

“How’s it feel.” She makes it sound like a question, you know her well enough to recognize that it’s more like a thinly veiled demand. Her voice is barely above a whisper but she may as well have shouted at the top of her lungs with the way it cuts through the space between you so sharply.

You see flashes of Art red-faced and needy as you knelt on top of him with your knees on either side of his head, of him spilling inside his boxers as you rode his face, using his tongue to get yourself off.

It has warmth pooling in the bottom of your stomach, thighs subconsciously clenching together. You imagine yourself in Art’s place, laying flat on your back as Tashi kneels above you, chasing after the taste of her with your tongue. 

“So good…” You whisper back, voice breathy like you just got done training. You can feel Tashi’s eyes on you, intense and persistent.

You meet her gaze, her familiar brown eyes dark and blown out in a way you’ve never seen before. She looks flushed, her cheeks tinged with the slightest hint of red. Her lips part ever so slightly, revealing a glimpse of teeth as she bites down on her full lower lip, a tiny gesture that sends a zing up your spine. It's like the room's temperature just shot up by ten degrees, creating a kind of heat that makes you feel light-headed.

Tashi’s stare is unwavering, it makes your skin crawl in the best way possible. She looks hungry, you feel a pang of unfiltered need shake your body like thunder. You’ve never felt deja vu before, but you’re guessing it feels something like this.

The offer slips past your lips before you can think of stopping it, “I mean…I could– I could like show you. If you want.”

For a second, there’s silence. All you can hear is the sounds of the city three floors below you flowing in through the window. The distant hum of traffic and faint chatter blend into a muted sound that underscores the tense quiet in your room. You hold your breath, forcing yourself to meet Tashi’s gaze. Every second that passes feels like an eternity, you’re inches away pretending it was a joke, from running away with your tail between your legs.

Then, Tashi’s eyes narrow slightly, her lips curling into a sly smile. She leans closer, bridging the small gap between the two of you, the mattress shifts under her weight. “Show me,” she murmurs, her voice an assertive whisper. The intensity in her eyes deepens, locking you in place. 

Your heart pounds in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears louder than the city noise outside. It wasn’t really a joke when you offered, but you never thought Tashi would actually call your bluff. You thought she’d just laugh, roll her eyes and call you gross with a smile on her face. You swallow hard, a mix of excitement and nerves churning in your stomach.

Tashi’s hand moves to your chin, gently bringing you closer to her. The electricity between you is palpable, a charged connection that sparks and crackles. Her thumb brushes across your lower lip, and you feel yourself leaning into her touch, your body responding before your mind can catch up. 

“Show me,” she repeats, her voice firmer now, a command wrapped in velvet. Her words hang in the air, thick with anticipation and promise. You nod, a small, almost unnoticeable movement.

“We- Art and I - we…uh, usually kiss before,” you try to sound casual. Tashi’s eyes soften, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

“Then kiss me,” she says. You can feel her breath on your skin, warm and inviting. You lift your hand, reaching out slowly. Your fingers brush against the bare skin of her arm, you’ve touched her millions of times before, but this one is different. It’s a hesitant touch that feels both daring and delicate. She doesn't tense or pull away; instead, she leans into your touch, her eyes never leaving yours.

Your throat feels dry, your mind racing, but you push through, your hand glides up her arm, tracing a path to her shoulder. Her skin is smooth, warm under your touch, and you can feel the slight tremor that betrays the relaxed front she’s putting on.

With every inch you cover, you feel more confident, your movements becoming more assured. You lean in, close enough that you can see the slight rise and fall of her chest, hear the faint hitch in her breath. 

It’s been years, but you swear her lips feel the same. It’s far from the slow, sweet, timid kiss you shared on her bed. The moment they touch yours, it’s like a jolt of electricity runs through your veins, reigniting a fire deep within you that never truly died. Tashi’s lips are soft, yet demanding, moving with a hunger that mirrors your own. You can taste the faint hint of her coconut lip balm and something that’s uniquely Tashi, a flavor you had almost forgotten but that comes rushing back with each second that passes. You lose yourself in the rhythm, the pressure, the way her tongue teases yours, exploring, claiming.

If you weren’t so fucking turned on, so fucking wet that you’re drenching your panties, you’d probably laugh. You’d laugh at how easily you ended up back here, kissing Tashi just because she asked you too. You wonder if she’s thinking about that night too, if she ever thinks about it.

Your hands find her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more needy. Without thinking, you drag Tashi onto your lap, her chest pressing flush against yours as her knees fall on either side of your torso. She responds quickly, her fingers tangling in your hair, grip tight enough to have you softly moaning into the kiss. 

It’s messy, wet, and consuming, with spit mingling as your mouths fight for dominance. Tashi still refusing to let go of the upper-hand even though you’re technically supposed to be the one showing her something, but you don’t mind. She bites your lower lip, hard enough to make you groan, sending a shock-wave of heat straight to your core. Her nails scratch against your scalp, pulling you impossibly closer. The air is thick with the sounds of your ragged breathing and the soft, breathy moans escaping your throats. 

When you finally pull apart, both of you are breathless, your foreheads resting against each other, a small thread of saliva connects your lips before it falls and breaks.

“Show me,” she whispers again, this time softer, almost a plea. And with a newfound confidence, you nod, ready to give her whatever she asks for. 

“Off,” you say impatiently, tugging at the waistband of her shorts. Tashi’s eyes darken, her breaths coming in shallow, rapid gasps as she quickly complies, shimmying out of her shorts and tossing them aside. You waste no time, falling on your back so fast your body bounces on the mattress. You can hear the bed creaking as Tashi crawls towards you again, you can feel the warmth of her as she throws a leg over your hips and starts to make her way up your body. She pauses at your chest, hesitating. She looks down at you, her eyes more unsure and vulnerable than you’ve seen in a long time. You just smile softly, giving her a small nod and bringing your hands up to squeeze her thighs reassuringly. Her body is warm and firm beneath your palms. 

“Tash,” you whisper, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against her skin. “It’s just me.” 

Her eyes search yours for a second longer, the tension melts from her face, and she smiles. A real smile, not the fake one she gives pushy interviewers, one that reaches her eyes. Her vulnerability bleeds into tender determination as she gives you one sharp nod of her head and shuffles the rest of the way up your body.

With a sense of urgency, your fingers hook around the edge of her panties. Tashi’s trembling, her fingers digging into your shoulders, hips lifting slightly to aid you slide her panties to the side.

Being face to face with Tashi Duncan’s cunt feels euphoric. It feels right, like this is where you should have been all along. She’s so wet for you and so beautiful and so perfect and you can hardly wait to taste her.

You lean in, trailing soft, deliberate kisses along her inner thigh, feeling her shiver beneath your touch. Tashi’s breath hitches, a soft moan escaping her lips as you get closer to her core. Her eyes never leave yours, her pupils completely blown out and swallowing up the warm brown.

“Please,” she breathes, her voice strained with longing. The plea sends a thrill through you, has you feeling power drunk because the great Tashi Duncan is begging you. Begging you to touch her, begging you to make her feel good, begging you to make her come.

You lean your head up, you can feel her body tremble as your breath brushes against her. Your lips part, placing a soft kiss directly over her clit, making her squirm and moan softly above you. You flick your tongue out, teasing her, drawing more desperate sounds from her lips. 

The taste of her is intoxicating, flooding your senses and making you crave even more. She tastes like girl sweat, like girl sex, you moan into it, gripping her thighs hard to try in vain to steady yourself.

Tashi’s eyes flutter shut, her head falling back as your tongue slides through the wet slit of her cunt. Her response is immediate, lowering herself down against your tongue as a low moan escapes her lips. Tashi's hips start to move, instinctively seeking more, needing more.

You watch her through half-lidded eyes, mesmerized by the sight of her losing herself in the pleasure you're giving her. Her hands tangle in your hair again, guiding you, urging you on as you work your tongue along her slick entrance. The rhythm of her hips matches the movement of your mouth, and you can feel her growing wetter, absolutely drenching the bottom half of your face.

“Fuck, that’s so good,” she mutters, pretty face pinched in pleasure. You moan into her cunt, angling your head up to drag your tongue up her slit slowly until you reach her clit, sucking it into your mouth and swirling your tongue over it.

“Oh my God,” Tashi huffed. She opened her eyes and looked down between her legs, catching your glassy eyes with her own. The sight only made her grind her hips faster, “You’re so pretty,” She muttered. Your loud moan is muffled by her cunt, heart fluttering in your chest at her words. You can feel your hands start shaking with the intensity of the moment, way more intimate than it probably should be.

Her right hand lets go of your hair, shooting out to lace her fingers with yours. She squeezes your hand hard, gripping onto it like a lifeline as she rides your tongue. You respond in kind, using your free hand to guide her, to hold her steady as you delve deeper into her cunt, your nose bumping up against her clit. Her taste, her reactions, everything about her is perfect, and you can feel her body tightening, her muscles clenching as she gets closer and closer to the edge. 

Her other hand tightened its grip on your hair, pulling you closer as she threw her head back, a low, throaty moan escaping her lips. “Don’t stop,” she gasps, her voice breaking, “I’m close.”

You increase your pace, tongue working even faster over her clenching cunt. You lose yourself in her, in the rhythm of her movements, in the sounds of her moans and gasps. You need her to come, you need to see, need to feel it, need to hear it, need to fucking taste it.

And she does, her body tensing, then shaking as she cries out your name, the sound filling the room. You hold her through it, your tongue moving in gentle, soothing strokes as she rides out her orgasm, her body slowly relaxing under your touch. You keep going, tongue greedily soaking up everything she has to give you until she’s spent, her body going limp, her breath coming out in ragged, uneven gasps. 

Tashi leans back, blindly shoving her free hand down your shorts to delve between your slick thighs. Your hand grips hers harder, moaning out as her fingertips brush over your throbbing clit. Your eyes open to find Tashi already staring down at you between her thighs, the fancy hotel lights making a halo of light around her messy hair. She looks fucking ethereal.

You’re so worked up it only takes a few clumsy circles of Tashi’s fingers to push you over the edge. Back arching off the bed as you come, hips bucking up into her touch. Waves of pleasure crash through you as you soak your panties in your release as Tashi watches with sharp eyes. She keeps going, fingertips sliding over you with featherlight touches until you’re squirming away, thighs instinctively clenching shut.

Tashi falls back onto the bed next to you, the two of you laying beside each other trying to catch your breath. The room is filled with the soft sound of your synced heavy breathing, you can feel her hair tickling your neck from where it splayed out on the pillows.

“Patrick’s coming to the UT game tomorrow,” her voice breaks the silence, voice raspy and winded, “Art will probably be with him.”

Her impassive tone feels like a bucket of ice water dumped over your head. You look at her, but Tashi keeps her gaze trained on the ceiling, her chest rising and falling quickly. She’s sweaty, baby hairs sticking to her forehead, her face is stony. She closes her eyes, it feels like a door slamming in your face. Your heart sinks in your chest, dread starting to wrap its tendrils around you.

Patrick and Art. Their names hang in the air like a storm cloud threatening to burst, casting a shadow over the fragile intimacy of the moment. You swallow hard, trying to muster a response, but words elude you in the suffocating silence. Tashi speaks again before you can, “We should all go out to dinner after, like on a double date or something.”

You trace the outline of her profile with your eyes, the curve of her jawline, the faint sheen of sweat on her skin. Each detail seems sharper, more defined, as if etching itself into your memory with painful clarity all over again. You have to close your eyes too, scared if you keep them open that the tears burning your waterline will start flowing down your cheeks. All you can do is lie there, next to Tashi, and feel the weight of her words settle into the space between you, putting up a barrier you're not sure how to breach. 

“Yeah…sounds good.”

taglist!

@ebodebo @yuenity @artemis-b-writes @myahswrld

if you want to get tagged in any of my works just fill out this form!

[taegimood]

ummm woah what’s that! points in the opposite direction as i scramble behind my open for business sign as if i didn’t disappear without a trace for months and have totally been here the whole time oh guess it was nothing anyway hi guys

i wouldn’t be me without eternal soobin brainrot so naturally i’ve emerged to throw this old now-finished draft at you for my first post back 🫡

so the best friends to fwb to lovers pipeline is my mf roman empire i’m so serious. like bestfriend!soobin always sitting next to you with his hand casually resting on your leg at all times, not even in a suggestive way, he just gravitates towards touching you 🥺 his safe place !! imagining his huge self slumped practically in half to rest his head on your shoulder, or him just mindlessly playing with your little fingers in his big hands glitches as he sits observing the room w that soft pout and big boba eyes combo yeah you know the one- clutches chest

so then later turned fwb!soobin who’s so used to showering w his friends iykyk lmao that now that he’s fucking you, in his mind you’ve crossed over that threshold of friendship where he expects to be able to join you for your showers even when it’s nothing sexual.. is genuinely confused if you tell him no 😭

“soobin i just need some me-time”

“….you can’t have your me-time with me?” *displeased pout*

like a needy puppy fr

but like you guys having such an interesting dynamic cuz you’re just still straight-up best friends (who are actually in love with each other but neither of you realize that even tho everyone else does cue yeonjun rolling his eyes into the camera like the office) so even tho the boys are all waiting for you both to wake up from your one joint braincell’s loop of stupidity and realize the truth, (beomgyu’s words), no one actually suspects that you’re out here skipping steps and FUCKING each other, because you guys just act so normal and chill together otherwise — the same way you’ve always been.

until later when the feelings start coming to the surface and you suddenly don’t know how to act around each other but that’s a whole other can of worms 🫡

so, when you’ve joined them for a short weekend schedule in japan, no one questions it when soobin meanders over to your hotel room after everyone is all settled in and getting ready for bed. eh, he’s just gonna go veg out there for a bit cuz he’s bored while she rambles about random stuff. classic soobin and y/n. they are wrong

you had just settled into bed when soobin slips into your room with the spare key card you had tucked into his pocket earlier, and you’re shuffling around and getting comfy when you hear the door open and close. you two hadn’t made a plan to mess around tonight, but you aren’t surprised, as it isn’t unusual for soobin to still seek you out for cuddles while he talks about his day.

you don’t even have to say anything as he slides into bed behind you, instantly wrapping an arm around your waist and nuzzling his face into the nape of your neck with a sigh.

“needed a break from beomgyu’s pororo impressions,” he mumbles, and you snort at the thought. “how does he still have so much energy right now…?” you murmur back, sleep lacing the edges of your voice.

“i still think i’m right about him being an animatronic bot who reaches peak terror at night.”

the two of you giggle at soobin’s joke before falling into a comfortable silence, broken intermittently by comments about your day, about their schedule tomorrow, about the anime-themed shopping center you guys plan to sneak off to with kai afterwards.

with another sigh from soobin, this one more of contentment than exhaustion, he’s soon nestling further into you, your eyes slipping shut in sleepy bliss at the warmth of his body pressed to yours.

that is, until you begin to feel small kisses being placed softly along your shoulder.

“soobin,” you warn half-heartedly.

“‘m not doing anything,” he complains back quietly in an equally half-hearted mumble, as he continues clearly doing something.

you’re so tired, but you can’t deny the tingles that run through your body whenever soobin touches you, and tonight is no exception as you wordlessly turn your head to look over your shoulder at him, his features coming into focus in the near-darkness of the room as he pauses to gaze at you in turn.

his blonde hair all tousled from the pillows, the sharp line of his jaw, his soft shining eyes — and his lips that you can never seem to resist for very long.

case in point. it’s only a few passing moments before those lips are on yours in a deep kiss, languid and slow, his hand gently holding your chin that’s still angled back towards him, your own hand reaching behind to caress the back of his neck — and then he’s shifting backwards to turn you over fully, your back now against the sheets as he positions himself half over you, his tongue moving lazily with yours, warm and wet and tasting of him as he comfortably rests his weight on you.

you make out like that for a while, his wandering right hand leisurely squeezing and kneading your tits beneath your shirt, his lips occasionally finding themselves trailing down your neck, but always coming back up to find yours.

i can picture how needy he’d start to get, subtle at first in the way he’d shift his hips, in the way his breath would quicken — and then it would be obvious from the moans that escape him as his kisses grow heavier, more insistent.

“need you..” he’d groan breathlessly through his kisses, attempting to shove his sweatpants down with his free hand as his lips stay latched onto yours, too desperate and impatient to sit up properly and use both hands.

“someone might come looking for you,” but you’re tugging his pants and boxers down his hips for him anyway and his lips are on your neck as he pushes your panties aside.

“let them look.”

soobin wasting no time rocking into you with deep, needy strokes, his face buried in your neck while your arms wrap around his shoulders, clutching onto him as his hips press you further into the mattress the more desperate he gets.

his hands are all over you, squeezing and caressing anywhere they can touch, and closer just isn’t enough as he holds you against him with breathy moans and grinding hips until you’re both cumming, his stuttered groan the giveaway before his final thrust is filling you up and your own climax washes over you like a wave. you can feel each other’s hearts beating as he stays there rested on top of your chest.

your best friend eventually lifting himself to hover over you in the dark, his warm breath fanning over your lips as you push the damp hair from his forehead, hand sliding down to caress his cheek, his jaw, thumb ghosting across his parted lips as he twitches inside of you — you bite back a smile.

this time, when he kisses you.. you don’t know it yet, but this time, it’s different.

soobin isn’t exactly sure why he can feel heat rising to his cheeks or a little somersault in his chest, but he’s glad that it’s too dark for you to notice the redness in his face when he asks,

��can i stay here tonight?”

[cloudcountry]

sneaking riddle out to a summer carnival!!!

SUMMARY: you take riddle to his first carnival!

COMMENTS: takes place post-overblot. honestly this can be read as heavy pining or established relationship LMAO also riddle wears heels outside of his housewarden's uniform shut UP

please be nice to me i am rusty i fear

TAGLIST: i'm going to be doing this again so let me know if you'd like to be tagged in stuff!!

Riddle’s first instinct is to turn right on his heel and walk out of there, and if it wasn’t for your hopeful smile and bright eyes he probably would have. The bright flashing lights, the screaming, and oh Great Seven, the food were all things his mother would have screamed at him for participating in. He supposes that's why you brought him here.

Just the two of you. No Ace, no Deuce, not even Grim is here with you.

The smell of grease and sugar is in the air as your fingers intertwine with his. The action catches him off guard, and you use it to your advantage and drag him deeper into the carnival. He vaguely hears you ask for tickets, making small talk with the vendor as they exchange a handful of tickets for your thaumarks.

(Letting someone else pay for his activities would also be something his mother would yell at him for, he thinks. He’s too busy trying to figure out how safe the ferris wheel is to examine the thought further.)

He’s glad Grim isn’t here. The thought makes his mouth twist in displeasure at how immature he’s being, but deep down he knows the direbeast would be hogging all of your attention. It’s easy to dispel the thought when you grab his hand and lead him into the chaos that is the carnival.

“Which ride do you want to start first?” you ask, a bounce in your step as you turn back and smile at him.

Riddle eyes each one warily. They all look rather horrifying, and if he’s honest with you he’d say he doesn't want to ride any of them.

His eyes catch on the drop tower, and it’s at that moment that the tower drops, and Riddle watches with wide eyes as the people on the ride plunge to the bottom, screaming like they're going to be killed.

“It’s for fun! Adrenaline, you know?” you say hastily.

He��s certain he’s gaping at the ride like he’s seen a ghost.

“We could try some games...?”

Riddle takes a moment to compose himself, shaking himself out of his stupor. He’s never been so out of his element, but he knows for sure you’d never lead him astray. You never have.

“Which one is your favorite?” he asks, watching your face relax.

“I think we should start with the ferris wheel.” you smile softly, and he can't tell if you're dodging the question or if that is your favorite ride, “But you don’t have to if you don’t want to. It’s a good ride to start with when you’re nervous.”

He wants to thank you, but the words get stuck in his throat. He lets you chatter about each game and each ride as you pass them, the ground beneath you uneven and bumpy. Riddle is glad you told him to dress comfortably—as ridiculous as it would have been to wear a pair of his heels for a carnival, he’s struggling even in his dress shoes.

You should always look presentable. There is no use complaining.

He feels you squeeze his hand again. You’ve found yourselves in front of the ferris wheel, with the queue shorter than he imagined it’d be. He looks over to you with a question in his eyes, and you giggle.

“Sage Island isn’t that crowded around here, you know? It’s already pretty isolated from everywhere else.” you say, “Don’t worry about it, just let me take the reigns today, okay?”

You bump your hip against his playfully as the line starts to move, and Riddle stumbles after you as you squeeze into a cart. You bounce in your seat as the attendant shuts the door and sends you up into the sky.

Riddle has seen the movies, the cheesy ones were the cart was a little bit bigger and the view was a little bit brighter, but he never understood the appeal of sitting there and watching rides move with someone else.

Now he gets it.

Your hand is still touching his, and he swears if he focuses hard enough he can feel your pulse against the heel of his palm. Riddle spares a glance at you, only to find you looking at him with a hopeful smile.

“Isn’t it nice?” you ask, voice soft and sweet and kind.

“Yes.” he nods, choking on his words as the scent of your shampoo wafts towards him.

You’re both so close.

The ferris wheel starts moving again, and Riddle feels a stab of disappointment in his chest. You laugh at his pout, bumping shoulders with him.

“Don’t worry, we get to go again!” you say, and he perks right back up.

He loves the ferris wheel. He wants to go on it again sometime, if you’d let him.

It seems like only a few minutes before you’re off of the ride and you’re pulling him over to all the food stalls, The smile on your face is infectious as you rattle off the different types of carnival food, talking about the strawberry variants of each one. It fills his chest with butterflies to see you so attentive—truly, he feels spoiled when you buy him a strawberry funnel cake and a caramel apple and even strawberry flavored shaved ice. In return, Riddle insists he pay for your food, and you laugh before accepting.

“I just wanted to treat you.” you confess, sipping on the drink your ordered, “You worked so hard during exams and even worked with others to make sure they were doing okay. Deuce did really well because you inspired him to work hard. You’re amazing—and you deserve a day off every now and then.”

It takes him off guard, just how candid you can be, especially with someone like him. Maybe it’s because you’ve seen him at his most vulnerable, you’ve seen parts of his past only Trey knows, you took the time to get closer to him when everyone else kept their distance, He knows now that that distance was his own fault, which is yet another thing you helped him realize, and—

You’re still doing more for him, over and over again. It’s like a debt he’ll never be able to pay back.

So instead, he reaches over and grabs your hand, the pads of his fingertips pressing into your palm.

You look over at him.

“Hm?”

His heart feels like it’s caught in his throat, but he forces the words out.

“Thank you for today.”

The smile that stretches across your face is the widest one yet. It’s triumphant, like his smile was the prize for winning a game you’d been playing for far too long.

“Of course, Riddle.” you scoot closer, “It’s no problem at all. I hope you’ll do this with me again sometime.”

He will. In a heartbeat, he will.

[sylusjinwoon]

This is such a random question but have you ever written a story where the reader goes with jinwoo to the international guild conference(I think thats what its called)

Im not asking you to write it, you’ve already written so much. Its just that you have so many works I struggle to find a specific one

Byeeeeeee! Have a good day/sweet dreams

hey sweetheart! and no, i don’t believe i wrote a story where the reader attends a conference with jinwoo. however, i can help you find a specific jinwoo story that i have personally written to suit your needs! so i have made a summary of every single jinwoo story i have written under the cut with their links ♡ !

1. { sparkle } - first jinwoo story i have ever written told in jinwoo’s POV where he realizes he’s in love with reader

2. { 3RR0R } - where the system shows jinwoo that his soulmate is not cha hae-in

3. { pillowtalk } - reader speaks to jinwoo about her love for him while he sleeps.

4. { season’s call } - reader is constantly under protection from jinwoo’s shadow soldiers.

5. { hold me like a grudge } - investigator!jinwoo protects the reader while hiding a secret from her.

6. { surround you } - jinwoo is away on a business trip, leaving reader alone as she muses on how much she misses him.

7. { like you do } - reader is a young woman living in the real world who gets the chance to live out her dreams of being with jinwoo in his world.

8. { butterfly kisses } - reader comforts jinwoo during a bad day.

9. { love letter of flowers } - florist! reader and s-rank hunter! jinwoo fall in love 💐

10. { slow dancing in the dark } - reader sees jinwoo dancing with hae-in and feels envious.

11. { boyfriend headcanons } - general fluff headcanons

12. { arise } - reader is resurrected as one of jinwoo’s shadow soldiers due to a tragic event.

13. { rose-colored boy } - jinwoo takes care of a sick and feverish reader.

14. { sands of time } - academy arc; reader can’t stand jinwoo and lowkey hates him… or does she?

15. { light in the darkness } - antares!jinwoo basks in the reader’s softness.

16. { tiptoe } - reader is kept hostage as potential leverage, but it fails when jinwoo brutally attacks her captors to teach them a lesson.

17. { snooze } - reader loves to humble jinwoo by calling him dorky nicknames.

18. { enough is enough } - reader and jinwoo get into an argument.

19. { motherland } - jinwoo comforts reader after her failures.

20. { love me for me } - reader can’t stand being second best to her sister, hae-in.

21. { follow you } - reader becomes anxious at work due to a persistent co worker who can’t leave her alone…

22. { house of gold } - jinwoo fumbles his proposal LMAO

23. { headfirst for halos } - first yandere jinwoo fic.

24. { penpal } - academy arc; jinwoo wishes to get closer to his beloved reader.

25. { proud to be yours } - jinwoo makes a huge announcement during a press conference.

26. { the dark knight } - reader is a capable hunter who can’t stand it when jinwoo purposely prevents her from attending raids.

27. { musings for yandere jinwoo } - more yandere stuff

28. { moonlight } - jinwoo becomes captivated by reader when she calls him a strangely unique nickname.

29. { anomaly } - reader gets isekai’d into the world of solo leveling.

30. { of gifts and curses } - jinwoo muses how his strength and power are for the sake of protecting his beloved…

31. { reader inserts } - reader gets emotionally scarred after reading a painful reader insert.

32. { too sweet } - jinwoo falls in love with a reader who is the embodiment of sunshine.

33. { peaches } - a love story between jinwoo and the reader whom he has always loved.

34. { the only exception } - yandere jinwoo who falls head over heels for reader at first sight, willing to do anything to keep her by his side.

35. { selfish } - jinwoo being a jealous bby 🥰

36. { belong to you } - 100% jinwoo spice / thirst post

37. { touch starved } - jinwoo tries to woo (lmao) the reader and win her heart ♡

38. { cry for me } - another thirst post based on an ask ♡

39. { lover is a day } - comfort fic for jinwoo

40. { heartbreak feels so good } - reader is embarrassed with having a one night stand with jinwoo and wishes to forget. unfortunately for her, jinwoo wants nothing more than to remember and finally claim reader as his.

41. { marked by you } - more thirst posts for jinwoo

42. { the prince and the pauper } - historical romance / fairytale au with prince jinwoo sung and a commoner reader

43. { darling } - a yandere story with a twist. yandere jinwoo and yandere hae-in are deeply in love with the reader and would kill each other just to have you all to themselves…

44. { company } - lmaoo reader keeps friendzoning jinwoo, and he hates it.

45. { autobiography } - reader is an author that wants to write jinwoo's biography; what more can i say? 🥰

46. { perfect } - 18+ only, another thirst post for jinwoo

47. { saturn } - will jinwoo learn to love the reader’s true self hidden beneath a cheerful façade?

48. { slow it down } - boy next door jinwoo! what more can i say 🤭🥰

49. { that green gentleman (things have changed) } - single dad! jinwoo x daycare worker! reader

50. { god is a woman } - 18+ thirst post / drabble

51. { the admirer } - jinwoo loves to annoy the reader to capture her attention

52. { not a want but a need } - 18+ thirst drabble

53. { marry me } - the title says it all, really 🤭

54. { your heart belongs to me } - another 18+ thirst post

55. { the haunted one } - academy arc story where reader can see jinwoo’s shadow soldiers and becomes terrified of him.

56. { me + you } - another cute academy arc story where reader is struggling with math and jinwoo tutors her

57. { of painful auras and cute boys } - university au; reader has a migraine and needs to be saved;;; but by who ;3c

[haveateadude]

bleak horizons ii.

summary *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ christmas and hot chocolate

warnings *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ depression, family issues, and i think that's it?? it's mostly fluff??

author notes *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ why is it christmas you might be wondering... well i don't fucking know okay??😭😭wrote this when i was in another country and it was cold and it reminded me of christmas so i wrote this. anyway. this one is boring as FUCK... just saying. i'm embarrassed about posting this actually. also, i accidentally put this on chat gpt and it gave me more than 10 things i had to fix so. don't get your hopes up LMAO

hope y'all have a great day, night, morning or whatever. take care of yourselves!!!!!!! if u don't you're an asshole.

AND THANK YOU FOR ALL THE SUPPORT ON MY LAST POST!!!!!!!!! i love everyone who liked it :)) even just knowing people have read it makes my heart warm. i really thought it would get cero recognition, y'all are amazing <3

(readers mental health gets addressed in the next chapter btw)

(not proofread either, sorry if there's any mistake)

pt1 — pt2 — pt3

i don't wanna talk about anything

i wanna kiss, kiss your eyes again

wanna witness your eyes looking

For Christmas, I go to Ellie's house, and I lie to my mother about having too much work. She says it's fine, which weirds me out. I never thought she would say yes. I’m excited and happy to go to Ellie’s house, anyway. This is important, I feel—meeting her family, I mean. She never speaks much about them, but I know she's adopted, and that she gets along with them. She also never met her mother. She says she had her aunt to teach her all that Joel couldn't, like what periods were, how to wash her clothes, and how to paint her nails with her left hand.

I think a part of me is afraid to go because I'm afraid I'll get attached. My mother never taught me what periods were and my father never seemed to know what empathy was. Her family sounds like a dream to me.

"We’re here," Ellie says with a smile on her face as she pulls up on the side of the road next to a white house. It’s got a green lawn, it looks nicely cared for, and a white picket fence. I take a deep breath, I don’t know why I’m so nervous. I think Ellie senses that. She puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes it, which feels comforting. "Hey, just know my dad is really fucking chill. It’s just going to be us, and my uncle's family. They’re going to love you, I promise."

"Okay," I nod because I know it and that's what I'm afraid of. I look outside the window. It’s Christmas Eve. It's already snowing. I then stare at Ellie's eyes and smile. I kiss her and when I pull apart I speak. "I don't want to go out, it's cold."

"C’mon, let’s go inside then. I don’t want you to freeze in this car."

I nod and fix my hair in the mirror before I go out. The cold makes me unable to feel my face or my hands, so when I go inside I'm a bit surprised by how warm it is. Ellie makes me hand her my coat and my stuff, and she puts mine and hers aside.

The house inside looks way better than it does outside. The lights are dim, the Christmas tree has colorful lights wrapped around it, and it smells like an apple pie is cooking. It feels like an actual home, and the chimney is decorated with socks, and next to it, on the wall, are pictures of young Ellie.

"You look cute," I tell her, speaking about the photos, as she walks towards me.

She blushes, her ears go red, "Uh, you weren't meant to see that."

"Oh, stop it," I chuckle. "You look adorable.”

"I bet you looked way more adorable than me."

"I looked like a disfigured mosquito with a big ass."

Ellie laughs as her hand goes to my hip, "First of all, if you were a disfigured mosquito—which you're not by the way—I would still like you; second of all, I love your big ass."

"Oh, so that's all you love about me?" I ask, teasingly, slightly tilting my head. "Just my ass?"

I feel Ellie's hands move downwards, nearly gripping my butt, before I hear someone clearing their throat. I'm so red I'm not even a tomato... I probably look like a fucking chili pepper or something.

I know it's Joel because Ellie has a picture of him with her on her nightstand. She looks at Joel as her hands linger on my hips for a second, then she takes them off and walks towards him.

"Joel," Ellie says, hugging him. "Hey, old man."

"Kiddo, you've grown so much."

"I look the same as last month."

"Yeah, just thought it’d make you feel better."

Ellie laughs as she pulls apart. I just stand there, awkwardly behind Ellie. Finally, Joel looks at me.

"Oh, hi," he says, now looking at me. "Ellie has talked a lot about you."

I nod, "Thanks for letting me stay, Mr. Miller."

"Just call me Joel."

"Well," Ellie interrupts. "We're going to my room, I'll talk to you later."

"Okay, I'll tell you when Tommy and Maria get here."

Ellie takes our bags, which she insists on doing alone, and leads me to her room.

Her room, it's… so her. Posters of bands cover every inch of her walls, and her desk is stained with paint.

I sit on her bed and look around as she sits next to me.

"I like your room," I tell her, feeling her knee bump against mine. She's so close to me I can feel her breath on my neck. 

"It’s messy, though." She’s looking at me, but I can't dare to look at her. 

I feel guilty for not being at home now, it gnaws at me. Is mom alone? And why do I care? Why do I feel guilt over the person who made me hurt more? She always wants to fight—there's always constant battles between us, battles she always wins. So why do I miss her and why is it hard to accept?

"What are you thinking?"

I chuckle, "It’s nothing."

"Well—alright," she lets the subject the subject slip. She kisses my cheek and then my lips and her hands roam my body. We just make out, though.

Christmas dinner goes fine. Better than I thought it would. The Millers are like a real family, they talk to me like they've known me for years, even though I feel like an intruder in their house. I don't want to be fond of them, or else I'll cling to them like they're family.

Maria and Tommy have a baby and most of the night is spent with Ellie cradling the baby and me sitting next to him. We drink hot chocolate with marshmallows. This is the happiest I've ever been at Christmas.

At night, I leave Ellie's warm embrace to go for a glass of water. I can't sleep, my mind is racing and it won't shut off.

When I go downstairs Joel is sitting at the kitchen table, I don't know what to say to him. Which is okay, because he speaks first.

"Can't sleep?" He asks.

For a moment I think he has confused me for Ellie, because why is he talking to me?

"Yeah," I say, getting my glass of water.

"I won't give the 'hurt my daughter and I'll kill you' talk if that's what you're worried about."

I try to laugh, "Thanks, I guess. You're—you're a great dad."

"Well, you're a great kid."

"Thank you," I answer because I don't know what else to say. He's indeed a great dad. He's funny and nice and caring. I've seen the way he talks to Ellie. Unlike my father he doesn't look at her daughter like he's trying to fix their relationship, therefore their conversations don't look forced; Ellie has referred to me as her girlfriend at Christmas dinner, and all Joel did was smile. It made me want to throw up, even if I felt welcomed.

"Hey—uh, I'm sorry if I approach this in the wrong way… but Ellie has told me that your mother is causing you trouble."

"Yeah," I don't know what to say, again. How do I answer this? How should I feel about this? "She's been a little difficult, but you know. It's the normal mother-daughter fight, nothing to worry about."

"Okay," he nods. "If you want you can talk to me, or Ellie—she's… she's been a little worried."

I hadn't seen that coming. Is Ellie's worried?

"I—I will talk to her. Thank you."

She doesn't want you. She's your friend, she doesn't want you. She will fall in love with you, not your brain nor your scars, and when she finds out about the way you think she'll leave.

I want to say Mr. Miller but I know he wants me to call him Joel—which makes me a little awkward. "I'm going to sleep now."

"Get the rest you need," he smiles. "Leave the cup on the table, I'll wash it."

I wake up being the little spoon.

Ellie has her arms wrapped around me like she's afraid I'll leave. As I slowly open my eyes I can also feel Ellie shifting behind me.

"Morning," she speaks in her morning voice, the vibration of her voice against my neck sends shivers down my spine—in a good way.

I smile, "Hey."

"How did you sleep?"

"More than good. Your bed is very comfortable."

"Yeah," she pulls me closer to her front, "I could stay here forever."

We don't stay there forever, though, because we open presents. It's just Joel, Ellie, and me. Surprisingly there's one for me from Joel, and Maria and Tommy.

Ellie gave me a necklace and a ring, which might seem simple to others but I had been planning on buying it for a fucking long while. It always was out of sale. And the ring had a moon on it.

"Fuck, Ellie," I say as I look at her, sitting on the floor with my legs crossed. "This is amazing, I love this."

"Yeah?" She asks. She's sitting next to me, her legs stretched out, resting her weight on one of her arms behind her. I notice she looks flushed. Her cheeks are slightly more pink than they always are.

I nod, kissing her, "Thank you, thank you, thank you..."

She chuckles after I give her one last kiss, "Time to open mine now, I guess."

I look at her as she opens what I gave her. It's small, compared to what she gave me. Is just one of the first pictures we took together framed, just after I moved in. I also gave her a white silver beaded bracelet I had made.

"I remember this day," she says, looking at the picture. "I remember I was trying to impress you all day long, you know? I just wanted to make you laugh... and well, you did."

I chuckle, "I did laugh at all your jokes, but I think that's just because I have a very shitty humor."

"I'm glad we share it."

Ellie looks at the bracelet and the framed photo with a tender smile, her eyes glistening.

"I love it," she says softly, as she puts the photo down, her voice barely above a whisper. "I love you."

Her words make my heart race, and I feel my cheeks heat up.

"I love you too," I reply, my voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside me. I think this is the happiest I've ever been; I think I'll remember this moment forever.

We spend the rest of the morning together, laughing and sharing stories. For the first time in a long while, I feel like I belong somewhere.

After breakfast, as Ellie and I sit on the couch with our fingers intertwined, Joel comes over with a cup of hot chocolate.

"Merry Christmas, you two," he says with a kind smile, handing us the mugs.

"Merry Christmas," I say.

Alright, yeah. This might be the best Christmas I've ever had.

[sanjiismystinkybaby]

💖Introduction 💖

To my non sharing Sanji doubles..

*non shares harder* >;)💞

No, but seriously block me. Please and thank you 😭

Here is my StrawPage

💖Hello I’m Moxie. You can also refer to me as Fork. (I use the name as my self insert cause I kin her) I’m an 18 year old bisexual lady thingy. I’ve never been in a real life relationship before and probably never will be. Guess I was saving myself for Sanji the whole time. I consider myself to be… a yumejoshi, Selfshipper, fictosexual? Eh. I fit into all those terms. Anyways I’m in love with a fictional man to simplify shit.

💖My blog is 100% SFW! I don’t do NSFW! I’m too shy to post that stuff. Also I won’t be reblogging nsfw too! Minors of all ages you’re free to interact! Just don’t make any… sexual comments/jokes please and thank you. That’s my only rule! I prefer wholesome shit on my blog! 😤💞

💖Asks are open. I have a lot of lore of Sanji and my One Piece self insert. Keep in mind my One Piece self insert isn’t me irl but I do kin her. That's why I’m called Moxie.

💖Sanji is my only f/o and I’m madly in love with him. I’ve shipped with him since I was 8 with my self insert and as years passed I still did. (Obviously I had done a lot of work on my self insert over the years but shhhh) I loved him for more than half my life and I still love him too. I’ve loved him before One Piece became super popular in other countries so I consider myself a true One Piece fan and Sanji lover. Without Sanji I don’t think I’d still be alive, he saved my life, my little hero. :’D💞

💖 I’m autistic as absolute fuck and I LOVEEEEEEE giving people my love and support. I NEED to make others happy- y'all don’t realize! 😤💞

💖If you have a One Piece f/o or if you are just a casual self shipper or do oc x canon please interact with me! Seriously, it would make me so happy!!! I’d love to be your friend! And don’t worry about me not responding, I’ll fucking respond and I’ll respond amazingly too 😩💞. I’m an extrovert! I know… spooky… we don’t see these a lot online lmao.

💖My current hyper fixations are One Piece, The Golden Girls, the Sims 4, Bleach, LPS and morbidly obese animals

💖 I’m an artist, (not a really good one) and I do art trades and draw my self ship. Yes you can ask for a art trade and no I’m not picky on skill.

💖DNI: If you’re a Proshipper who supports incest or pedofillia or beastility. If you’re a Minor who self ships with Sanji or simps for Sanji (Minors themselves can interact but not ones who lust after Sanji) Sex workers and Only Fans people don’t interact with me, you gross me out.

💖Policy on Doubles: Doubles? Yeah you can interact. Might not support your relationship but you can interact! (Ps if I interact with you first it means I’m cool with you) If you’re comfortable with it give me a Sanji tag to block from your account if he’s not your main f/o cause sometimes I have bad days and don’t feel like sharing. Ain’t willing to share/support other Sanji relationships unless you’re willing to support my relationship as well.

💖 Sanji and Moxies self ship tag name is “Hopelessly touch starved for you” and then we also got “Moxanji” which is a fucking classic. Idk how the first one works.. I saw people use stuff like that… so I wanted to do it. Maybe it’s a tag?

#hopelesslytouchstarvedforyou

Tada~

Idfk feel free to help me XD

[the-night-that-feeds-if]

Hey everyone, dunno how long this might be, kind of doing a stream of consciousness style ramble about TNTF and me and stuff :)

alright so, tntf is getting a huge rework, this is my first if game ever, the coding is a little overwhelming, i know it’s fairly simple but it’s A LOT.

the reason i’ve been pretty quiet is mostly due to burnout, as some of you know i have health issues, i have crohns disease, i’m also autistic with adhd—something i love about this community is the understanding and acceptance for people/authors like me who may want to write but are just too stuck to be able to do it.

i know everyone is so jazzed for the next update, and i am too, there’s a few changes i’m making in regards to the technical aspects of the story, i’m removing stats, for the MC and for relationships. part of it is… i’m not a numbers person, trying to balance out the stats going up and down is a pain when this is planned to be a pretty damn long story. i also just don’t like it for my story personally, i don’t want you, as the player to feel like you have to game-ify personality or relationships.

this also opens the option for me to write more player responses to situations without having all of that annoying code in my brain~ MORE FLAVOR!

My writing has also vastly improved when it comes to fiction, a lot because i have been practicing so much while i’ve been sick (i’ve been playing with and writing AI chatbots on Janitor.AI, learning how to create a complex and realistic personality, an engaging character and world.) It’s been useful as a stress reliever and as a tool to help me write better, more descriptive etc.

on that note, smut in my game is also a very yes, i feel much more comfortable writing it now… heh.

i’ve also decided that all of my books are going to remain free, tntf was a planned three book series, it may just be one or two HUGE books, we’re going to have to see what i, and twine are capable of. but the story is going to span four countries and two continents of the world, so yeah.

the new rewrite is also going to slow things down considerably, because now we’ll have MC on a ship for four months as the intro, then meeting maddock and spending <insert amount of time here> with him while traveling to that little inn. it also gives me more room to introduce the characters a lot earlier but in their own POVs and not just while they’re with MC. i want the world to feel alive.

my decision to make and keep tntf free is because i want to.

i would not appreciate minors interacting with my content, but i also grew up with the internet, i know that no matter how much prevention we put in, minors are going to access our content regardless if it’s free or not. i just ask that if you are a minor and reading adult fiction, please don’t comment, dm or whatever, this is for your safety in the community as well as, i don’t want to deal with other people’s children on the internet, it’s nothing against any of ya’ll, you’re awesome, children are great but i’m almost 26, i really don’t want to deal with kids in what’s pretty much an adult space (i haven’t really seen books catered to the younger than 18 crowd, but like i’m saying, i’m more interested in forging connections with the adult community here, considering i am one, lmao *bats children away with pool noodles*)

i think that’s it

i might post more stuff but that’s my general direction

also to the asks in my inbox from last year on my birthday and forward… I READ THEM ALL AND APPRECIATE EVERY WELL WISH AND FEEDBACK, GENUINELY. i’m just bad at social media.

[sofmoth]

Smooth Stuff

for her birthday, @strang3lov3 challenged me to write dennis reynolds, and to use his DENNIS system on the reader. naturally i’m nervy because who can do dennis but glenn howerton honestly??? and genuinely not to suck myself off but i feel like i met the brief LMAO

this is for all us dennisfuckers, dennisfucker nation stand up!!!

also posted to AO3 by me (@sofmoth), link here.

divider created by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

dennis reynolds x reader. WC: 2.3k

DO NOT BOTHER INTERACTING IF YOUR BIO IS AGELESS OR BLANK.

18+ ONLY. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED ON SIGHT.

HEED ALL WARNINGS:

DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. dennis is a literal sociopath, dennis is manipulative, dennis manipulates reader for sex, dubcon, reader is psychologically tortured, sober sex with a drunk person, reader gets drunk, canon-typical dennisisms, no confirmed relationship, use of the DENNIS system, smut. once more for the cheap seats, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

“My name’s Dennis, I’m collecting donations for the Boys & Girls Club.”

That’s how it started. He’d come in to ask if there were any old toys your store was about to throw out, and if you would consider donating them instead. Unfortunately not, you’d told him, but you were pretty sure you had a phone number he could call and he might have some luck with that. You’d written it down on a Post-It for him with the name of the person he should ask for, and then you handed him a Post-It with your name and number. You’d never been so bold before; something about him inspired that in you.

He called you every other night, and you talked for a few hours each time. It felt like nothing, talking to Dennis was as easy as breathing. He was charming, and funny, and he actually listened to you bitch about the day you had at work instead of interrupting every 38 seconds to talk about himself. Friday night, near the end of your call, he asked if you’d ever been to a restaurant called Guigino’s. He’ll be taking you on Sunday.

You don’t know why you’re so nervous walking to the restaurant with him; you’ve gotten pretty comfortable with him over the phone. He can probably sense your anxiety, hooking his arm into yours as you walk. You hear it before you see it, Dennis groans and you look up. A sign on the door reads CLOSED, and Dennis holds his face in his hand. He sighs, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Unbelievable, I’m sorry. How about we take a rain check on this? We can grab a pizza or something and head back to my place, watch a movie? My roommate’ll be there but he keeps to himself. If that’s okay with you, of course.” You hum, bite your lip.

“Okay. It’s still Italian.” You stifle a nervous giggle and Dennis chuckles, wrapping his arm over your shoulder as you continue down the street.

As the apartment door opens you can see a man sitting on the couch, reading a book with the TV barely on. He must be Dennis’s roommate. Dennis clears his throat.

“Hey man. Do you mind taking that to your room? The restaurant was closed, we’d like to… y’know, get to know each other a bit. In private.”

“I’m not going in there.” Dennis’s jaw twitches.

“Why not?”

“I saw a black widow. I’m not going back in there.”

Dennis sighs, looks over at you.

“I mean, I guess we could take this to my room? Eat on the bed, watch a DVD in there?” You nod and he relaxes, smiling at you.

You sit on top of his covers with the pizza box between you, eating absently as you attempt to follow the movie. You’re not entirely sure what it is, but you think you recognize a few of the actors. You feel Dennis’s knee touch yours, looking over at him.

“Pretty good pizza.” He closes the box.

“Not the only good thing I’m looking at.”

God damn, does he fuck. You almost feel bad for his roommate, though the thought is immediately pushed from your mind as the head of his cock borderline bruises your cervix. His hand on your throat stifles your moans, your eyes roll back from the sensation. You’re practically folded in half, knees pressed closer to your shoulders than you ever thought possible, your arms around his neck as he kisses you messily.

Your legs start to tremble, toes curling as you feel the tension building in your belly. You knot your fingers in his hair, tugging hard as your back arches into his chest and you begin to see stars. He doesn’t slow down, if anything he fucks you harder, tears pricking at your lashes as the stimulation toes the line of too much. You silently thank God he had condoms, glad he won’t have to pull out and finish on you. His pace falters, hips stuttering as he grates out a near-rapturous “Oh, fuck.” 

He pants against your neck, wincing as he pulls out. You prop yourself up on your elbows, legs still shaking You look him up and down, the sheen of sweat on his forehead and the wild look in his eyes nearly doing you in again. He tosses the spent condom down into the wastebasket by his nightstand, pulling his boxers up and laying on his back next to you. You look over at him, raising an eyebrow. He raises one back at you.

“Oh, really?”

The next evening after work, you find one of your tires almost completely deflated. You groan, inspecting the rubber and locating a sizable screw lodged between the treads. Fucking fantastic. You sigh, chewing on your lip. You’ve only been talking with him for a little over a week, and you don’t want to seem too needy, but you call Dennis anyway. Maybe he’ll be able to give you a ride to the auto shop at least.

He’s there in no time, happy to help. He even offered to change the tire for you. As he stands he wipes his hands on his jeans, kissing you quickly before replacing the jack in your trunk. You feel your cheeks heating up, a grin tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“I’ve got some stuff to do this week, so how about we go to Guigino’s next week?”

“Sounds good to me. You free that Friday?” He smiles at you.

“Yes, I am. How does 7 sound?”

“That’ll be great. Give me a call when you’ve got time, I’ll see you.” You enter your car, starting the engine as he backs away and raises a hand to you.

You notice he watches you leave the parking lot before leaving himself. That’s the first time any man has bothered to make sure nothing else happened to you. Dennis calls that night, you talk for a bit before you both decide to go to bed. The next two days follow the same routine, but the third day he doesn’t call. You feel a bit dejected, and by 8:30 you’re two glasses of wine deep, nearly ready to go to bed. Your phone rings and you’re wide awake again, picking up without checking the caller ID.

“Hello?” You’re met only with the sound of heavy breathing. “Hello? Who is this?”

“I know where you are, you dirty slut. I’m gonna gut you like a fish.”

You hang up, throwing the phone almost across the living room. Your hands shake and you stand slowly, walking carefully over lest it ring and be the same man on the other end again. You call Dennis, and as he picks up you can’t control your tears attempting to explain what just happened. He arrives at your apartment shortly, holding you on the couch as you try to calm down. He offers to stay the night and you insist he doesn’t have to, he insists he wants to if it’ll make you feel safer. You gratefully accept.

Your week is filled with mishaps and threatening calls, notes left on your car in your apartment and work lots. You tell him the only person you can think of who would do this to you is your batshit crazy ex, so Dennis comes to visit for a bit most evenings. Dennis has to cancel your plans for Guigino’s, and as he leaves he kisses you at the door with a promise that he’ll call you.

He doesn’t call. You try to only call him once a day, leaving simple and short voicemails. The threatening calls start again and you try to get ahold of Dennis, still to no avail. You spend the next week almost too afraid to set foot outside, but you have obligations that must be met, phone stalker or not. By the end of the week you’ve given up. You didn’t expect this from him, don’t know what prompted it. You can’t tell whether you were too clingy, or perhaps you weren’t paying him the attention he deserved. You sit on your couch, already down three glasses of wine and working on your fourth when a knock on your door startles you.

You lean against the peephole, trying to make out who it is. Dennis. You groan quietly, holding your face in your hands. You sigh deeply, pulling the door open to face him directly. His shoulders are slack, he looks sad.

“Can I come in?” You gesture him inside, he sits on the couch and eyes the wine bottle. “I know I’ve been distant. I’m sorry.”

You sit next to him, picking up your wine glass and finishing it in one long swig.

“I just wanted to explain myself. Listen, I was being a coward. I was afraid. I’ve had my heart broken so many times, and you’re too good for me. I was scared it was gonna happen again and I was gonna lose the best thing that’s happened to me in ages, so I did a really shitty thing and cut you out before you could do it to me. That was awful of me.”

You rub your temple, sighing through your nose as he talks.

“I… I’m not afraid of that anymore. I thought about it really hard, and being away from you this week has been killing me. I wanna be with you. I love spending time with you and talking to you, when I have a bad day getting to talk to you makes it feel like it never even happened. Please, give me another chance.”

Maybe it’s the wine, maybe it’s the stress you’ve been under, but the sincerity in his eyes knocks down every emotional barricade you put up. How exactly you got into bed with him is a blur, but you remember Dennis pulling you up at some point as you made out on the couch. This isn’t like the first time you fucked him, he’s taking his time with you now.

Your eyelids flutter as he lays kisses to your neck and chest, peeling your shorts away as you toss your tank top across the room. You can’t keep your hands off of him, fingers digging into the flesh of his back as he removes his shirt. He kisses you deeply, you hear the harsh sound of his zipper and he pulls away for a moment to remove his jeans. He’s back over you in an instant, hips grinding into yours evenly.

You make out slowly, fingers tangled in each other’s hair as he continues dry humping you. His pace begins quickening, his breathing becoming shallow. You’re both getting desperate, and you push his hand down to the waistband of your panties. He removes them without hesitation, pulling away from you once again only to push down his boxers. He reaches over to your nightstand, fishing around in the drawer for a condom.

You could cry when you finally feel him push inside you, the slow roll of his hips into yours making your eyes nearly cross and your back arch. One arm holds him up just above your torso, his other hand grips your hip. You can feel his teeth and tongue on your neck and clavicle, whining at the soft bites he lays down. The hand on your hip comes up to your chest and you gasp as he squeezes, his thumb grazing your nipple as he wraps his lips around the other. The wet heat drives you fucking crazy; you bite down on your own hand to ground yourself.

Your hips start to sting, you don’t even know how long you’ve had your legs spread at this point. Dennis doesn’t seem anywhere near tired or finished, his speed increased and his grip on your skin even firmer. You wrap your legs around his waist, he moans openly and fucks you harder. It still isn’t as hard as your first hookup, but you imagine this is what finding religion feels like. You feel his hand snake down between your bodies, gasping at the sensation of his thumb circling your clit.

Your eyes start to water, breathing becoming jerky as you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. His pelvis slams against yours, the speed and friction only pushing you closer to your orgasm. You whimper; the rubber band is about to snap, your stomach tenses and your thighs twitch. Dennis kisses you, hard, pounding into you and stopping abruptly. Your whine becomes a broken moan as he focuses his attention on your clit, tears falling as your entire body stiffens and relaxes from the relief your orgasm brings.

You moan again into his mouth and he continues fucking into you, and you can tell he’s close. Courteous, too. His speed is unrelenting, plowing into you so forcefully it almost hurts. He buries his cock inside you one final time, pressing his face into your tits and moaning raggedly. You almost wish you could feel him cum inside you, curious to experience the sensation. Dennis pants against your chest, squeezing your hip as you release his waist from the confinement of your calves.

He doesn’t move, holding his cock inside of you for what feels like hours. By the time he pulls out, you’re wracked by a wave of exhaustion. You can barely keep your eyes open, only vaguely aware of his movements  as he throws away the condom and pulls the blankets over you both. You feel him stroke your hair and press a kiss to your cheek, and you think you hear him say something but you can’t quite understand him.

Your alarm scares you awake, on your one day off no less. You reach behind yourself, feeling only the mattress under your palm. You sit up, confused, listening for the sound of Dennis moving around anywhere in your apartment. The entire place is silent. You pull on enough clothes to cover yourself, walking to your window to look into the parking lot and searching for Dennis’s car. You don’t see it anywhere. You try to call him, immediately you’re met with the telltale chime ready to inform you you’ve dialed a disconnected phone number.

“Douchebag” doesn’t even begin to describe that motherfucker.

[nanthegirl]

⭐︎Hi Hello⭐︎

I love reading everyone’s intro posts because they’re so cute and I’m nosy. So here’s mine🧍🏾‍♀️. Although I’m a bit concerned about redundancy because of my bio, but whatever.

• Nanu

• Medical Technology Student

• Germany

• Languages- English, mother tongue and German, B2 C1, who knows?

• Interests & Hobbies- Beginner violinist, trying to get into art, The Sims, crochet, reading, writing only for my Sims though and Disco Elysium.

I was so stressed about writing one of these and it ended up being very anticlimactic. Which is good.

More Semester specific info under the cut🧍🏾‍♀️. (03/04/2024)

I’m in my 6th Semester which, all things being equal, should’ve been my last. But I haven’t particularly been the best student due to a…. bunch of stuff. So I may end up taking an extra semester or two. I’m done most of my classes though so I just have exams to write. A lot. Im also doing the Lab for Physics 2 now cause I wasn’t able to do it in my 2nd Semester because my apartment didn’t have electricity or WiFi lmao.

Main Goals for The Semester

Get 1’s on every exam. Ridiculously ambitious considering the highest grade I’ve ever gotten is a 1,3 and that was just once but if I don’t see the point in not aiming for a perfect grade. Like, I might as well.

Up my gpa as much as I can, hence the 1’s. I want to make sure I get into a good masters program and I’m sort of glad I delayed a bunch of my exams cause I would’ve probably gotten shit grades if I wrote them then so. Silver lining.

Study consistently and try to be more interested in the material. I always feel like a fraud when I pass any exam cause I feel like I didn’t really learn anything and I won’t be able to get a job. My degree has some interesting parts and I want to learn to enjoy the entirety of it. Basically up my curiosity for knowledge.

Work on my German. I’ve not set down a solid plan for this yet but I definitely need improvement. I avoided all the electives that required presentations last semester and I heavily regret it now. The only way to dissolve the anxiety over speaking German is to give myself nothing to worry about in the first place. I’m also looking forward to being more comfortable with it so I can focus on learning my native language and many others.

Practice the violin consistently. I’m super shy about practicing in my apartment cause I assume everybody thinks it sounds terrible and it’s too loud but my goal is overcome that fear and make significant progress.

Practice drawing consistently. I really do want to improve my art and I’m like a beginner beginner beginner. It can feel super discouraging sometimes but also fun and I really hope I can stick with it.

Clean my room every Saturday.

I pqlanned to write a whole lot more here but I’m not in the mood anymore so the whole cut thing feels like a waste. But it’s been done. So. Thank you for bothering to read this and I hope you get to achieve all your goals🤍.

[jasntodds]

Petrichor [16]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader (little bit of fwb)

Words: 13,749

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, blood, gunshot wound, a little bit of gore, mentions of death, panic attacks, hurt/comfort

Summary: ❝Pylades: I’ll take care of you. Orestes: It’s rotten work. Pylades: Not to me. Not if it’s you.❞

Gotham is home, not just for Jason but for you, too. And now that you’re both finally back home, together, you’re ready to see where this next chapter brings the two of you. He’s your best friend and you’re his. And you both might want a little something more with being back home, the place you both feel most comfortable. Surely, nothing could possibly go wrong now.

A/N: Hey!! lmao so sorry for the super late update. I was sick and then some personal stuff happened and then I thought I got covid so yeah hi lol I'm so sorry lol This chapter was like 20k+ words so I split it into two because that was a lot lol You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary  and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

Jason is stuck pacing back and forth in the room he’s calling a bedroom now. Worry has taken every part of him as his hand grips his phone like a vice. It’s been hours. He hasn’t heard from you or Dick or Gar. He hasn’t heard from anyone and he’s tried calling you seven times. But, your phone is off and your phone is never off. That is the one thing about you, your phone will never be off unless there is a reason for it and being hurt isn’t a good reason. Not to you. The only time your phone even dies is…never. Jason thinks about it and he doesn’t think you’ve let your phone even reach 20% in the entire time you’ve known each other. He thinks it’s probably so someone can always find you and you can always call for help because you’re almost paranoid about it dying. Your phone doesn’t die.

That leaves Jason thinking the worst of the worst. If your phone is off, that means it has to be dead or you shut it off for some reason but that’s uncharacteristic of you. So, he thinks maybe it did die and if it died, that’s because you didn’t charge it. If you didn’t charge your phone, it’s because you were physically incapable of charging it. What if something really bad happened? What if you were shot somewhere else? Jason knows Crane wanted you taken care of, maybe he shot you twice but you’re really good at hiding your pain when you need to. Adrenaline probably kicked in and shock, you were scared for Tim. Maybe you didn’t realize how bad it was. What if there was a complication of some sort and something bad happened?

Jason’s mouth starts to water as his eyes burn. His brows pinch together hard as his teeth grind so hard his jaw starts to ache. He was brought back. But, a part of him really hates that he was. Would you want to be brought back? If you died, would you want to be brought back like him? Jason comes to a stop, trying to steady his own breathing as his leg aches and burns. The scars on his chest feel like he’s being cut open again. What if you don’t want to be brought back but Jason did anyway? What if you did, and he does nothing?

What if you did die?

If you did die…Gar would call him, right?

Gar would definitely call, Jason assures himself. Gar would call immediately if something were happening. He has the number now and Jason’s ringer is on with the vibration set to strong. He has no missed calls but he’s certain Gar would call. If not, he would have called Molly and Molly would have found a way to call Jason. If you were dead, one of them would call him.

And then Jason swallows his own heartbeat as his phone starts ringing.

Gar.

“Hey.” Jason clears his throat, trying to keep himself together as he tries to prepare himself for the worst news he’ll ever get. 

“Is she there?” Gar asks and Jason can hear the worry etched in his voice.

“Uh…no?” Jason questions and he’s not sure if he should be relieved or panicked with Gar not knowing where you are. At least he’s not calling to tell Jason you’re dead but that does not rule out you bleeding out in a ditch somewhere. “I told her to go with you.”

Gar sighs on the end, running a hand through his hair. “She took off. I thought maybe she went to find you but she was hurt and she’s not answering her phone. Molly hasn’t heard from her either.”

Jason already figured you wouldn’t go to Molly. If you went to Molly, she would worry, give you a look you don’t like, and you’d run away again anyway. The last thing you’d want to do is drag Molly into it further. But, Jason really hoped you’d have listened for once and just went with Gar. Or at least sent a text to one of them to let them know you’re okay or not.

“She hasn’t been around.” Jason keeps his voice quiet and he looks around his room as if the answer is going to be written on the walls.

“Uh…hey, I know this…might not be what it’s for, but can you track her? She was shot and we’re all really worried.” Gar’s voice is hesitant as he scrunches his nose, hating the idea of having Jason do it. It feels like an invasion of privacy, especially Gar being the one to ask but it’s a last-ditch effort.

Of course, Jason’s been thinking about it. But, something in him can’t get himself to do it. On the small chance you did shut your phone off, that means you don’t want to be found. Jason can’t overstep, he can’t intrude on you. Even if he is desperately wanting to because you could be dead. He thought maybe he’d give you twenty more minutes and then he’d just do it anyway.

“Have you looked for her?” Jason asks, eying his tablet you left out.

“No, I called you first.” Gar admits. Honestly, Gar doesn’t even know where to look but he knew Jason would.

With no one out looking for you, maybe they don’t have to track you and possibly invade your privacy. If you’re just blowing off steam or punishing yourself, Jason knows exactly where you’ll be. He figures, if him, Gar, and Molly can’t find you within an hour, checking all of your spots, he’ll use the tracker.

“Okay, you and Molly go look for her at her usual spots. Molly’ll know ‘em and I’ll check a few others. If we don’t find her in an hour, I’ll track her.” Jason nods his head on the other end.

“Do you think we’ll actually find her? I mean you know how she is.” Gar isn’t trying to be pessimistic but it’s been hours and he thought for sure, you would be with Jason.

Jason can feel the panic attack starting to course through his blood. His heart is racing and his hands are growing clammy and he’s getting unreasonably angry. It is not Gar’s fault because even on a good day, getting you to listen is like pulling fucking teeth, especially when it has to do with taking care of yourself. Jason knows this better than anyone but he’s mad anyway and he knows it’s the panic attack. You were fucking shot and he took off so he’s mad at himself for listening. And he’s mad that you were shot and Gar didn’t stop you. He can turn into a fucking tiger for fuck’s sake, couldn’t he have turned into a tiger to stop you? Tackled you to the ground and pinned you there, dragged you to the manor kicking and screaming if that’s what he had to do. You were shot and maybe you’re dead now and he didn’t help. And Jason didn’t fucking help.

“Fuck! Gar, then you should have fucking followed her!” Jason snaps and immediately feels bad about it but any part of him that should apologize is washed over with guilt and regret and more anger. “Just go fucking look for her with Molly and I’ll look other places.” Jason grabs his coat from the bed and heads for the door.

“Where should we start?” Gar is quiet on the other end.

“The zoo.” Jason spits right back without even thinking. “Start there, then the harbor and I’ll–” Jason cuts himself off as he swings the door open, seeing you right in front of him with bloodshot eyes and blood-stained clothes and hands.

Gotham never sleeps. It never stalls. Everything is always moving, always loud. There is always something going on, people always going from one spot to the next in their lives. In some ways, it’s a little comforting. A reminder that you are here. You are here and alive like all of the people you passed on your walk here living their own lives. On the other hand, you wish it were quiet sometimes. You wish it were quiet sometimes because everything seems too much sometimes and your skin crawls while your heart feels like it’s going to beat out your chest. Your head spins and everything feels too much. But, it was quiet in the basement. It was quiet in the tower before you were attacked. It was quiet in the tunnels. It was quiet when you found Jason. It was quiet when Tim was shot. Maybe quiet is the surrounding air grieving for the mess fate’s created.

So, you stand in Jason’s doorway because quiet with him, alive and breathing, has always been the safest place to be. You stand weakly, haunted by everything that’s happened as the very idea of existing physically pains the deepest parts of your heart.

It’s hard to go through the same shit all the time. You’re just supposed to be fine with it. It’s happened before and you got over it, so you can get over it again, right? At some point, someone reaches the end of their rope and you think you might be there. It is the same pain over and over again and it never gets any easier. Time passes and it all just hurts anyway. People say time heals everything but you don’t think that’s true because you think about your mom dying and it’s like the wind’s been kicked from your chest all over again. You remember Jason’s body and it’s like you're being waterboarded. Time doesn’t heal anything. It’s not even like you’re used to it. You were just traumatized and avoid thinking about everything so it doesn’t fucking hurt so much. But, even that’s just exhausting. Existing is hard and tiring and painful.

Maybe you’re just tired of being in pain.

Your bottom lip starts to quiver and you always felt safest with him. Even from your own thoughts. You never felt too much pain around him. He always knows exactly what to do and it’s all too much right now. Being alone doesn’t work anymore. So, you stare up at him as Jason’s brows pull together with a cross between worry and relief.

“Jason?” Gar calls. “You there?” Gar asks.

“I got her.” Jason says. “She’s here. I’ll call you later.” Jason says quickly before hanging up. “Hey.” Jason’s voice is soft and careful, noticing you’re not making eye contact with him.

You walk the couple of feet up to him as Jason keeps his stance, almost ready to do whatever you’ll need. And all you do is lean forward and rest your forehead against his chest. Jason lets out a breath and you’re able to pull one in for the first time. Jason rests his hand on your back, rubbing up and down slowly as he hears you sniffle against him.

“Gar was calling in a search party. Where the fuck were you?” Jason asks and he should have some sort of bite in his voice but he’s too worried and too relieved.

You look back up to him and shake your head. “Walking. I couldn’t-I couldn’t…do it.” Your jaw squares as you try to hold back your own tears. “S-sorry..I-I didn’t mean to…to, uh, worry you guys. I-I just…just couldn’t.”

Jason nods with understanding, looking you over and it doesn’t look like you took care of the gunshot wound. Your clothes are soaked and your hair is an utter mess. There’s blood on your face and he swears your cheeks are stained with tears and you actually look cold.

Jason rests his hand on your cheek and you finally meet his eyes. “You alright?” Jason asks softly.

“Hurts.” You mutter and his hand almost feels like it’s burning your cheek. He’s so warm.

“The gunshot?” Jason questions, almost afraid of the answer.

“Everything.” You answer weakly with defeat.

You've never seen his look on him before. His jaw is squared but it’s soft rather than harsh like he’d been trying to shatter his own teeth. His brows are pinched but not completely pulled together and they’re aimed downward, etched in worry. His eyes are scanning you over every few seconds as if he’s stuck between thinking you aren’t really here and terrified something really bad is about to happen. Jason Todd worries and you've seen him worried plenty of times but this is different. You've seen him scared, too, plenty of times. More times than you can really count. But, this is different. It’s a different look and it’s because it’s you. And that look alone, chops and hacks at the barrier holding you together until it finally crumbles at your feet.

“It’s all my fault, Jay.” You sputter as you feel your eyes starting to water again. “It’s all my fault and I really fucked up and Tim could die or he did die. I don’t even know cause I left and I’m a fucking coward for leaving and it’s all my fucking fault.” Your mouth waters and you can’t look at his eyes because it’s all too much. “And there was so much…blood again. And the last time…it was you and it was horrible and I lost you and I couldn’t do it again and it just hurts all the time.” You suck in a shaky breath. “And-and Gar would say it’s not my fault and he’d give me the look but it is my fault. And Dick would be mad at me and I deserve it but I can’t hear it right now because I don’t know if I can handle it. And….it’s just-it’s just my fault. And I don’t know if could save him but I tried and I tried to save you, too.” You sputter before a sob finally rips through your throat. It bounces against the walls in a strangled and broken wail as if the very life you've lived has finally taken its toll on you for the last time. Jason isn’t sure he can listen to it because it physically pains him to see and hear you like this.

“Y/n.” Jason tries to get out but you shake your head.

“I tried really fucking hard to save you and it didn’t work. And I had to call Bruce and beg him to help me and he couldn’t and it was so fucking horrible and painful and scary.” You try to suck in a breath as tears scatter down your face. Everything is just wet and ugly, and burning. “It was so bad and I was so alone.” You suck in a ragged breath, your voice cracking and breaking between sobs. “Because Molly didn’t know and fuck Bruce and Gar wasn’t here. I was so alone and it was so scary because there was so much blood and brain matter.” Jason almost winces hearing it. “I don’t know if I would have been able to recognize you if you didn’t have the fucking Robin suit. It was so fucking bad and it hurts to think about and believe it happened but you’re here. And then Tim gets shot and there’s so much blood and I had to ask Dick to help and it’s like I’m there with your body again and it’s scary and it’s painful and I hate it. I hate how much it hurts. I hate doing this. I hate that it keeps happening.” Your chest heaves as you look at Jason with tears soaking your cheeks and your eyes finally meet his. And all Jason can see is defeat. “What if it just keeps happening?”

Jason shakes his head and every single time he is reminded you were the one that found him, he sends himself into a guilt-ridden spiral. Of course, you found him. That isn’t the issue. The issue is what it looked like from your perspective and the devastation it caused. He knows. He knows what it is like to find someone you love dead. He knows and it’s horrible and painful and devastating. It makes someone feel completely hopeless and helpless and useless. There has never been a time where he felt more helpless. And then he put you in that same position, not on purpose. But, he did and it was worse because it was gorey and traumatizing and he left you. He didn’t realize how badly it had traumatized you. It traumatized him, too but it affects you.

Dying doesn’t just happen to the person that’s dead. It happens to everyone around them.

“I’m so sorry.” Jason says softly, sliding his hand off your cheek. He shakes his head, biting his own tongue because he almost wants to cry with you. “I’m fucking sorry.” Jason wraps his arm around your shoulders as he pulls you into him. He’s careful not to hug you too tight, minding the gunshot wound he knows he’ll be taking care of for you later. “You’re not coward.” Jason manages to get out as he tries to come up with an answer for you even though he doesn’t think he’ll ever have one. The reality is that it will keep happening.

“Yeah, I am.” You argue back before you look up at him. “What fucking person just leaves as their friend is bleeding on the ground?”

“Someone who’s fucking traumatized.” Jason bites back. “Someone who was also fucking shot and in shock. You tried to help him and me knowing the shit you’d get for it. You fucking knew I went after the Joker and you show up alone, ready to take him on by your fucking self if you had to. You think that makes you a coward? What’s that make me then, huh?” Jason questions back, knowing you’ll never think of him as a coward, even if he sees that in himself sometimes.

“Not a coward but that’s different.” You argue.

“Fucking how?” Jason spits back. “You left Tim with Dick and the rest of the Titans who would know what to do. You were also fucking shot.” Jason shakes his head.

Jason wonders if this is what it's like dealing with him sometimes. Going round and round, circling the drain into a self-destructive spiral that only seems to have one result. It's not that he minds, it's that you think this. You're anything but a coward and Jason can't even figure out how you could think otherwise. You always do what you think is best for yourself and for the people you care about. Always. And you fight tooth and nail, as hard and as fast as you possibly can for what you believe. That's not cowardly.

“I-I know but…” You sniffle as you shake your head. “H-how can I keep doing this? I mean…losing people and the blood and….how can I do this for other people when I can’t even save the people I love?” You ask bluntly. “That’s shit, you know? We’re supposed to be out helping people and…and I can’t even…I fail with the people that matter. So, what’s the point?”

Jason would be lying if he doesn't question what the point is half the time, especially over the last few days. What's the point of living if this is even how it plays out? Pain and chaos, destruction and lonelienss. It's all pretty miserable, actually. But, he holds on anyway because it wasn't always like this.

Shit gets bad and then it gets better and yeah, it is exhausting sometimes. But, it's always gotten better. Jason doesn't know how much better it'll get from here now but he won't tell you that. He just knows he wakes up and he tries because you were nearly beaten an inch from your life and you find so much joy and love in small things that that alone seems to give Jason some sort of hope. And because Gar's family was killed and Gar was experimented on and he is the most optimistic person he has ever met. And because Molly lived on the streets with the death of her parents and Molly is the nicest person Jason has ever met. If all of these people can just be better after everything, than he can't very well just give up. And you can't either. Maybe there isn't a point but you'll never know if you give up.

“You know what you told me? You are the one that said sometimes we fail, that’s part of the job. But, we try.” Jason licks his lips as he sucks in a breath. “You talked me off the roof. Maybe Deathstroke would have tried to kill me or done worse shit if it weren’t for you. Fucking Pete Hawkins bullshit. The kid at Jerry’s. You were the one that fought tooth and fucking nail to save Gar. And you did, by the way. You saved Tim at Excellent Gotham. You failed two fucking times but by my count, you win more often.”

“Three times.” You correct him, earning you a glare. “Gar got kidnapped, we failed then…too.”

“You were both tranquilized and they used kryptonite on Krypto. I don’t think that counts.” Jason nods his head.

“I guess.” You let out a breath, looking to your shoes. “I just, uh,” You sniffle as you shake your head, looking back to him. “I just want the pain to stop.” Your voice cracks again.

Jason doesn’t say it, but he does, too. So, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into him.

You press your cheek to his chest, wrapping your arms around him as your breathing is still rapid and ragged. But, you can hear his heartbeat in between breaths. It’s fast but steady. A lot quicker than it usually is but it is there. A few more tears leak out as you count his heartbeat and are fully engulfed by his warmth. You hadn’t realized just how numb you had gotten from the cold until now. Your fingers and toes are starting to feel like painful pins and needles. Your arms are burning and your cheek sting from the salty tears. It’s as if you're thawing from his warmth. Between that and his steady heartbeat, you calm yourself down.

“I can try to help.” Jason whispers softly. “If you’ll have me.” Jason pulls away just enough to look down at you and your eyes meet his.

You told him before that you’d come for everything that ever hurt him if it came to it. Anyone that ever wanted to hurt him, would have to go through you. Because he was just Jason Todd to you. It didn’t matter that he could -- should have been able to -- take care of himself. And Jason knew that’s how it was for him, too. Anyone who wants to hurt you, has to go through him. But, the problem is that someone did hurt you…because of him. And he hurt you. Right now you're in pain and it’s because of him. It’s not right and it’s not fair to you but Jason wants to protect you. He’d cut out pieces of his heart and glue them to yours if it would make you feel better. He would do anything in this world if it would make your pain less. Any form of pain that wants to come for you, is going to have to go through him first. From now on.

You nod your head. “Always.” You croak out.

“Come on.” Jason releases his arms and cold rushes itself right back over your body. “Sit on the bed, I’ll grab you some clothes and supplies to clean that shit. We’ll start there.”

“Thanks, Jay.” You mutter softly, walking to the bed and Jason watches you carefully.

He wonders if this is how it always felt for you. He’d come home bloody and bruised, weak and pitiful. Scared and in pain. He never said anything but Jason knows you always knew. Somehow, you always knew when he was hurt and scared. But, it was always him walking through the door hurt, not you. And it was you that would stitch him up. Sure, he’s helped you with your hands, but you did it at least twice a week for months. And you never complained. But, Jason wonders if this is what it feels like.

It feels like he’s carrying the weight of the world for the both of you and he’s trapped in a worrying spin. And he is so fucking sad for you. It’s not pity, but just sadness. It’s wanting the best for you and you to have everything good in this world because you deserve it. And wanting to witness it because he loves you. It’s just wanting to see you smile and happy, making some stupid joke and telling him to fuck off. It’s just wanting you to not be in pain anymore. He wonders if this is how it felt being you and if so, he wants to know so badly how the fuck you dealt with it because he feels like he’s suffocating while he grabs you clothes.

Jason walks back over to you, handing you a pair of sweatpants and a red hoodie. “I got first aid shit in the bathroom so change and I’ll be back.” Jason nods his head at you.

“Okay.” You answer weakly and Jason hesitates for a few seconds before he practically runs off to the bathroom.

You're weak and unsteady as you change into the sweats. You're realizing you haven’t eaten in a while and you haven’t had much to drink either. That’s definitely not helping your mental state and you know it. But, if you were being really honest, none of those activities sound like things you're currently capable of doing. Changing is even almost too much effort at this point. And it fucking hurts as you try to take your shirt off to swap it for the hoodie.

“Need help?” Jason appears right back not two minutes later.

You always hated feeling helpless but not around him. “Yeah, it hurts.” You sniffle softly, sitting pitifully on the bed.

Jason walks over, resting the kit beside you before he lightly grabs the hem of your hoodie. Jason helps you tug it off of your bad shoulder and then over your head, you groaning the entire time. With the hoodie off, you're left in a blue t-shirt and Jason sees where the bullet hole is, covered in red and brown. With the chaos of last night, he didn’t check and wasn’t able to check if the wound was a through and through. Jason's stomach twists at the thought that it's not. But, he hides his worry, looking back to you with a soft sigh.

“How did you wanna do this?” Jason asks bluntly.

Your brows furrow in confusion. “I-I don’t know?” You shake your head.

“I can’t clean it with your shirt on.” Jason sucks in a breath and normally he’d have some comment about seeing you half naked again but he can’t quite muster it this time.

“Oh…” You whisper and you swear it’s fine. It’s not like you haven’t seen each other naked before and it’s not like you didn’t see Jason fully exposed just the other night. There is something that just feels…new and vulnerable again. “That’s fine.” You nod and Jason leans forward again, tugging the hem of your shirt up and over your head, freeing your arm. You grab Jason's hoodie with your good arm and Jason helps tug it onto your good arm, you thankful it's a zip-up and not a pullover. “Guess that’ll do.” You suck in a breath and you're kind of tired of feeling like this. “I expect you to actually help and not just stare at my tits the whole time.”

Jason manages a cheeky smirk. “You know I’m ass guy anyway.” Jason glances down and then back to you.

“Shithead.” You mutter and Jason’s head swims. It’s been so long since you've called him that and it almost feels nostalgic.

“Babe.” Jason quips back.

Jason takes out his phone, examining the gunshot now that there isn’t anything in the way. There’s still blood everywhere and he can’t even tell if it’s because you did such a shit job at cleaning it or if the wound is actually that bad. Something in his stomach twists and turns into a gnawing pain at the thought this is worse than he originally thought. But, he keeps a straight face, not to let his worry cross even a single line of his face. When he worries, you worry.

Jason grabs a wet rag from the bowl he brought in with him, gently cleaning around the area to try to get a better look. You let out a shaking breath, the water cool against your skin.

“Sorry, no hot water.” Jason barely glances to you as he scrubs some of the dry blood away.

“Should probably fix that.”

“Pilot lights are expensive.”

“I have Bruce’s credit card.” You mutter quietly, earning a look from Jason.

He stops, looking up at you fully. “You would.”

“Eat the rich.” You shrug. “Or take their money when it’s offered to you and he didn’t ask for it back.” Jason lets out a snicker before he goes back to cleaning. “You should use yours. It might send up a red flag for Bruce and maybe he’ll call someone back or come back.”

You hate the words as they leave your lips because wanting Bruce back means admitting defeat. But, Gotham has gone to absolute shit since Bruce decided to fuck off somewhere. At least Gotham had some degree of fear and respect for the Bat. They don't seem to like the Titans very much. And Jason's been off his rocker and you've been stuck trying to help him. Gotham does need someone they respect. Bruce should definitely come back. And if for no other reason, to see his son is alive again.

Jason scoffs. “Yeah, fucking right.” He shakes his head in annoyance. “Fuck Bruce. I don’t need him.”

Before he died, he was getting better about talking about his problems and the things that kept him up at night. He was doing better with it but then he comes back and the very idea of talking about it makes him want to crash through a window headfirst onto solid pavement. In all fairness, he already hated talking about Bruce. It was one thing to complain about him but it was an entirely other thing to unravel and dig into actually talking about him. Now, though, it’s worse because every time Jason thinks about Bruce, it’s as if his heart starts to break all over again.

Maybe him getting bludgeoned death was his fault. He knew better. But, where was Bruce? Bruce gave up on him. And then…was going to let the Joker just…live. Jason was supposed to be Bruce’s son and he couldn’t even kill the Joker for him or do anything about him. And maybe, just maybe, Jason could get over that eventually but Jason’s alive again and Bruce is nowhere to be found. With everything going on in Gotham, Jason is certain Dick would have called Bruce and let him know. If for no other reason than to rat Jason out to “dad”. So, maybe Jason feels like he was always a little expendable to Bruce, not just Crane or the Titans. And that part hurts the most.

“Didn’t say you did?” You let out a breath. “Just saying is all.” You pull in a deep breath. “Fuck Bruce, yeah. Just saying.” You, for one, still hate Bruce but Jason hating Bruce seems weird. You chalked it up to the drug at first and Crane but…Jason’s clean. It’s weird, even for Jason. “What’s your sudden issue with Bruce anyway?”

“You got a problem with me having a problem with Bruce all of a sudden?” Jason spits back and he shouldn’t, given your current state but his heartache over being abandoned by him is fresh.

“Oh, no. I am actually fine with that cause fuck Bruce but it’s weird. After all of that shit, you come back and suddenly don’t like him. That’s weird, Jay. Even for you.”

“Never fucking mattered to him. I was always just the replacement for Dick anyway. Doesn’t fucking matter.” Jason dips the rag into the water, rinsing some of the blood off before going back to the wound.

You furrow your brows, trying to figure out where that’s even coming from. “Uh…not true? Bruce is a fucking weirdo and shit but I actually think he gives a shit about you, Jay. Outside of Robin and Dick. You always said that, too. Like deep down you knew that, so what is it now?”

Jason grows more and more angered but he knows you aren’t going to drop it. “You were fucking right, alright?” Jason snaps back. “Should have killed the fucking Joker because he killed me. So fuck him.” Jason keeps his explanation short.

“Right yeah, had he just killed him, you wouldn’t have died and it doesn’t make up for it because too little, too late shit, but like…he did—“

“Can you fucking drop it, please?” Jason’s words come out more as a demand rather than a request. “I’m done fucking talking about it.” Jason looks at your shoulder from your back, seeing there’s no hole in the fabric.

“Sorry.” You say softly. It just doesn’t sit right with you. You’d still be pissed at Bruce, too because had he killed the Joker in the first place that wouldn’t have happened but that’s…not really Jason. He doesn’t hold many grudges and Bruce did kill the Joker. It was a little late for that but he did, to avenge Jason. Bruce didn’t throw his morals away for Dick, he threw them away for Jason and that would normally mean something to him. It’s weird but you know when to push and when not to. You're not in the mood to fight it anyway. “Just thought it was weird, is all.”

“It’s fine. Sorry.” Jason squints at the wound, seeing something shine back at him and his heart plummets. He grabs his phone, shining a light into the wound again. “The bullet is still inside.”

“Figured.” You let out a breath.

“I have to take it out.”

Your eyes land on his and you know this is about to suck. “Okay.” You nod your head.

“Lay back and hold the phone so I can see.” Jason hands you his phone as you do as told.

Jason grabs a pair of tweezers from the kit and he looks at the wound, grabbing your wrist to make sure the light is in the right position. Jason’s stomach twists into a hard knot, knowing how bad this is going to hurt. His leg starts to throb with the very thought of putting you through it. But, it has to be done. You're not going to go to an actual doctor for help and if he leaves the bullet in, it can lead to infection. So, Jason sucks in a deep breath and bends down hovering over the wound, careful not to block the light.

“It’s gonna hurt.” Jason glances up at you.

“Just do it.” You sigh, looking to the ceiling as your grip on his phone tightens.

Jason nods his head before gently sticking the tweezers into the wound. You slam your eyes shut as your jaw clenches. Your right hand grips onto the blanket beneath you as Jason moves the tweezers around. It’s burning and stinging like getting stung by a thousand hornets at once. It’s as if you're being shot in the spot over and over again as tears well behind your eyes. Jason is trying to be careful and quick, but the bullet is slippery thanks to the blood.

Your hand starts to shake as your breath grows rapid and uneven. You try your best to concentrate on anything besides the pain but that’s becoming increasingly more difficult. It was different when you were in the fight for your life. It was do or die and people can do absolutely insane things they should not have been able to accomplish in life or death situations. Your life isn’t in danger right now and even when you try to focus on something else, the tweezers move just enough and you're brought back to agonizing pain.

Given the events that happened, it’s hard for you to focus on anything other than the pain you're been in. You try to think of the good times but then those are tarnished like rusted silverware. Those good memories now come with pain, too. You try to focus on what you’re going to do about Crane because maybe that would kick in your fighting instincts but you're the one lying in a bed right now after being shot by him. Everything around you feels like it’s rusting and chipping away into a toxic pile of reds and browns. Tainted, tarnished, and broken.

Jason glances up to you and he can see the agony written in every wrinkle and pinch of your skin. And he can’t see with the phone basically vibrating in your hand. All he can even feel is anger and not at you. It’s entirely on him and Crane because at the end of the day, it’s his fault and Crane’s how you ended up here. You never should have been shot. You were only there to look out for him. You and Tim were collateral damage. So many people around Jason end up just being collateral damage. And they don’t deserve it. But, at the end of the day, he isn’t the one that pulled the trigger at you and all he wants to do is go right after Crane. Make him feel the same pain he’s put you through. And then worse.

“Y/n.” Jason says, sternly. “You have to stop moving. I can’t see.”

You swallow thickly, trying to stabilize your hand. “Sorry.” You manage to mutter through your gritted teeth.

Jason goes back to the wound but the second he sticks the tweezers into the flesh, you wince and flinch as hard you try to stay still. Jason is no stranger to this and he knows it is agonizing to pick something out of an open wound. Nerves and flesh are exposed that should not be. It’s horrendous and seconds feel like hours. And it’s triggering phantom pain in his leg as his heart feels like it’s being suffocated with barbed wire. He knows it’s bad when you're the one who can’t sit still.

Jason pulls back, putting the tweezers back in the kit before he cups your cheeks. He bends down so his face is just an inch from yours and you open your eyes slowly, your jaw still clenched and tears threatening to finally fall.

“You gotta stay still or I’m never gonna be able to get it out.” Jason’s voice is stern.

“It fucking hurts.” Your voice cracks weakly as you sniffle.

“You were almost beaten to death. This isn’t gonna fucking kill you. You’ll be fine.” Jason nods his head once at you before he presses his forehead to yours for just a second.

You nod weakly at him. “Yeah…”

“Just…stay still and I’ll be quick, alright?” Jason asks, seeing the doubt across your face. “I got you.” Jason offers a weak smile.

“Okay.” You nod your head in agreement.

Jason nods once more before he goes back to your wound. He focuses on the bullet while the tweezers hover above you and you can’t help but notice the lack of shaking in his hands. Come to think of it, you aren’t sure the last time you saw his hand so steady. Jason has always been so steady around you. An unmovable force.

Jason looks back to you, raising his brows as if silently asking if you if you're ready and all you do is nod quickly before looking back to the ceiling. Your grip tightens on the phone while you lock in place with all of your might just to try to stay steady.

The tweezers stick back into the bloody wound, carefully and steadily as they go right to the bullet. Jason keeps his eyes laser-focused on just getting the bullet out and you grit your teeth together as tears come to your eyes. But, you suck in a deep breath as you feel the metal scraping around the wound, clinging onto every part your self-control in order to stay steady. That’s when Jason finally is able to grab the bullet, pulling it out in a steady motion, careful not to drop it.

Jason holds the bullet with the tweezers as a triumphant grin comes to his lips. You peek your eyes open at him, the whites turning a bright shade of pale pink.

“Told you I got you.” Jason shrugs casually but the grin quirks into a cheeky smirk.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah thanks.” You roll your eyes as you sniffle.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, that shit was just, uh painful. I really don’t recommend getting shot.” You lay the phone down beside you before rubbing your right eye.

“Yeah, don’t plan on it.” Jason quips back. “Probably stop hurting soon without the bullet.”

“Be nice.” You let out a sigh. “And Dick really just went to bed like this. What a fucking psycho.”

"Yeah, but you went MIA." Jason narrows his eyes at you because maybe he is a little mad at you for it. They were all worried. He was worried. "You bitch about him but--"

“If you fucking say it, Jason Todd, I’ll kill you again.” You deadpan. “You two are the ones that are oddly similar, okay?”

Jason lets out a scoff. “Bullshit. I’m nothing like him.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, you are. You’re different but you’re similar. You just don’t wanna see it. What? You never looked up to him before all of this shit?” You ask.

Jason sits back on his heels, dropping the bullet in the first aid kit with the tweezers to toss and clean later. “What’s to look up to?” Jason scoffs. “Being a fucking kiss ass and a goody two-shoes.”

“Because he was the first Robin.” You state casually. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, about you replacing him and shit whatever. But, didn’t you ever look up to him for even a little bit?”

Jason hangs his head and while he’s always felt less than and a bit like a failure when it came to filling his shoes, he definitely did look up to him. Dick created something so special and surreal when it came to Robin. He wasn’t Batman, he was just a kid in a suit helping Batman and that was cool. Then Bruce had all of these stories about Dick and it always made Jason want to be like him because Dick was good. That’s how Bruce always talked anyway. Jason doesn’t know that Bruce always talked about Jason in the same way when he wasn’t around. And Dick doesn’t know how Bruce would talk about him to everyone else. But Jason heard the stories and how great Dick was. He never wanted to be exactly like him but he definitely wanted to be somewhat like him. Dick’s parents were killed and he got to be Robin. By all that Jason heard, it seemed he made it out of it okay. He had Robin and he got to carry that with him. He got to have a career in helping people (kind of). Jason did want to be like him but the way he sees it, there’s a reason people say not to meet your heroes.

“Still mad about the Joker shit but…uh,” You sniffle again. “Don’t know, be a lie if I said I didn’t look up to him…and you.”

“Me?”

“I always liked your Robin.” You say quietly. “You were different. Felt like we needed your version. But I told you that.”

“Surprised you still think it.”

“I think we need someone like Red Hood.” You state, catching Jason entirely off guard.

“What? Another fucking murderer?” Jason scoffs, looking to the window above the bed before he looks back to you.

He feels so ashamed of it all at times, like right now. It's because you're the one lying here after being shot by someone Jason thought he could trust. He knows deep down, crime in Gotham needs a change. The Bat doesn't fix everything, clearly. There needs to be someone out there that is willing to do more but Jason isn't sure that's him. He already burned his bridges. He doused them in gasoline and lit a match with a smile. He feels like he's on the wrong side and there's nothing he can do to rebuild that bridge to be on the right side anymore. If there's even a right side.

“No. Someone who’s willing to do the heavy and bad shit in order to prevent worse shit from happening. Like I said, I’m not just killing people for you, it’s for all of us and everyone that will come after us. I think we need people like that and people are afraid of you and rightfully so. I dunno. Just my take, I guess.”

“Been thinking about the people I killed.” Jason lets out a breath. “Heavy shit.”

“Yeah, but a lot of that is greater good shit and the other stuff is Crane’s manipulation so you shouldn’t feel too guilty for those.” You shrug your good shoulder.

Jason shakes his head and he doesn't how you deal with any of it. You don't normally deal with much, if Jason is being honest. But, you seem to be dealing with this pretty okay. Somewhere in him, he always felt like if someone were going to go on a killing spree, you would probably be that person. Your morals have never aligned with Dick's or Bruce's. You've always felt like more could be done, permanently. But, Jason's surprised you seem so okay with it and with him killing people.

“How the fuck are you dealing with it?”

You let out a broken laugh. “I’m not.” You answer honestly. “So much shit is happening that I just…can’t.” You shake your head. “Can’t think about it.”

Jaso nods with understanding. “Yeah.” Jason sucks in a breath, deciding to drop the conversation. It feels too much again. Too loud. Too heavy. “Stay still.” Jason leans forward, grabbing the rag before he starts cleaning her wound again.

You watch him carefully. He’s not handling anything well which you can’t say you really blame him for. You wonder what you would be doing if you were in his position. How would you ever forgive yourself for not only everything that’s happened but also being manipulated? Being manipulated isn’t Jason’s fault but you know he’s probably blaming himself for it because you would be blaming yourself for it if it were you. You wonder how he feels about coming back. You haven’t really talked about it and part of that is you're just afraid to ask because talking about him dying nearly sends you into a spiraling panic attack. But, you wonder how he’s dealing with that and if he’s happy he’s back.

Jason’s hands are steady as he grabs the gauze, his brows pinched together with concentration as he goes back to the wound and you find yourself wondering if you were meant to be anyway. Everything seemed so much easier in San Francisco. You weren’t together then and it was all just fun and games. Sure, you both were kidnapped and that was bad. But, that was one thing. Meanwhile, being together in Gotham has been a shitshow since the start almost. Maybe it’s just the butterfly effect but you wonder if it was just you both trying to find solace in each other or if it was as real as it’s always felt. Maybe you were just feeding off of each other’s own self-destruction and avoidance. Maybe being together helped the other one crumble.

Your eyes scan over his face and you realize, you don’t remember the last time you saw his face bruised. But, while you were together, he was always littered in them and almost always had one somewhere on his face like a Jackson Pollock. That solidifies the thought of you. Maybe you weren’t meant to be after all. Maybe you were actually bad for each other. Maybe you being together really was just you both self-destructing, knowing damn well one of you would die and it would destroy you. Maybe being together was always a way to hurt yourselves in the worst way.

And that hurts worse than the gunshot.

You've always been so sure about him. Even when you weren't sure, a part of you was. It was always supposed to be him. Him and you. But, you were shot and you're thinking a lot about how people's lives might be better if you weren't in them anymore. You're thinking about how things might be better for Jason if you weren't together. You skew your own reality, convincing yourself you got together in order to hurt yourselves. That's all it could possibly be. You ignore every thought about you confessing how loving him is the easiest thing you'd ever done. You push every thought of every soft moment you have ever had into the darkest part of your mind where they can be tainted and painted over. You push away everything Jason has ever told you and goes against everything Jason has ever believed about himself and what he deserves. It all feels like lies to yourself. It was just self-destruction because that has to be it, right?

You go back and forth with yourself. One part of you thinking this must be fact and the other part of you thinking it's just because it's a bad day. Everything feels worse on bad days and it is so easy to push everything good into a dark corner and paint right over it as if it were something different entirely. And today is a bad day. So, a part of you screams and begs for you to just ask Jason because Jason wouldn't lie. If it was all just self-destruction, Jason would tell you. He wouldn't lie about it.

“Do you think we were just a consequence of our own self-destruction?” You ask quietly, moving your eyes to the ceiling. "Or...was it like....real?"

Jason hears the question and pauses. He almost questions if he heard you correctly but he glances back to you and you're avoiding his stare which means he definitely did. His heart sinks and he thinks he forgot how to breathe for a second. Do you actually think that? Jason isn’t sure what would hurt more at this point. You thinking that’s all you were to him or that being all you were to you.

“What?” Jason asks, more for clarity.

“I mean like…exactly, uh, what I said. Do, uh, d-do you think we were just a consequence of our own self-destruction?” You chew the inside of your cheek and you regret asking. “Or…was it all real?”

The question hangs in the air like the blade of a guillotine, just waiting for one of you to pull the rope and end it all. The air starts to feel stale and cold and heavy as Jason doesn’t move, processing the question.

He’s not entirely sure where that question is even coming from. This whole time, you've wanted nothing more than him and you've said that. You have told him that he is all you have ever wanted. Why would you just be a consequence? Was he just a consequence?

Jason sits all the way up, coming into view. “Do you think that?” Jason asks bluntly as his breath hangs in the stagnant air. It’s as if he is clawing at the last remaining parts of his voice to remain steady and not shatter and break.

You look back to him, following the hollowed lines of worry of his face. You aren’t sure he’s breathing and you regret asking the question. You don’t even know why you asked in the first place. It’s not like you actually want to know because sometimes not knowing is just better, less painful. And the look on his face isn’t making you feel any better because he looks torn between devasted and angry.

“I asked you first.” You say quietly.

“No.” Jason states bluntly, almost harshly.

Being with you was never him self-destructing. In Jason’s eyes, as much as it all got fucked up in the end, being with you healed more parts of him than he ever thought possible. Being with you actually healed parts of him he swore would never be put together no matter how hard he tried. You made him better. He got to be who he wanted to be with you and shamelessly, you fully accepted him. And he really thought, he could be that version of himself forever because you always convinced him he could. You made him want to put in a hard effort into coming home and thinking twice before doing something a little too reckless, outside of the whole Crane and Joker thing. You showed him what it was like to be loved without conditions. And Jason loves you still. No conditions. No consequence. No self-destruction. He loves you yesterday, today, and he is positive he’ll love you tomorrow and every day after that because he wants to.

“Do you?” Jason asks, choosing not to elaborate.

You swallow a lump in your throat. Despite your own negative thoughts, you know you don't. Not really. Maybe you thinking it is a self-destruction thing, maybe it's your way of trying in order to punish yourself for Tim and everything else. But, no. Of course, not.

“No.” Your voice is quiet and fragile, making Jason’s heart sink because he knows there’s a but coming. “But, uh..we just…we ended up here.” You let out a scoff. “And, uh, I don’t know.” You shake your head. “We said some pretty fucked up shit to each other and I know…uh, I know you were high but, uh…yeah.”

Devasted. That’s all Jason can feel because he’s one of the reasons you even asked. He knows he said some horrible shit to you and he can’t take any of it back. Words are long-lasting. They enter the air and stick to it, absorbing itself into your lungs as you pull in a breath and let it fester there. That’s where the words start and travel to your brain where they store away, pecking at you just at the right moments. No one can take words back and Jason knows that. But, he has to try anyway even if he doesn't think it’ll salvage you. You have to know you meant and mean the entire world to him still.

“I didn’t mean any of that shit, okay? I swear, I didn’t fucking mean it.” Jason states quickly. “I was fucking high and I just wanted to fucking hurt you which is fucked up and I’m fucking sorry.” Jason spits out quickly but with a fire. There is no relief coming to your face and even if you are nothing to each other after this is over, he needs you to believe him. Jason cups your face. “I fucking swear. We weren’t a fucking mistake and you were the best thing that happened to me and I fucked that up. That’s on me. You made me better. I’m fucking so sorry, alright?”

You nod against his hand. And you know. You were also high and none of the shit you said is true. You didn't mean any of it. You didn't even mean the shit you said while you were sober. Maybe it's just a part of you that needs it to be verified today.

“I know and I’m sorry, too. I don’t know. I just get thinking about it, I guess. We both ended up here and it’s just…” You suck in a breath. “I know.” You place your hands over his. “Because I said some horrible shit, too, and then I hit you. And uh…I know. It’s just…that on top of everything else that happened. Like…” You shrug softly. “You died, Jason.”

Jason drops his hands, shaking his head, putting the pieces together. There is no way in hell you really think him going off on his own is your fault. Every piece of that shit plan, was on Jason. It was on him to just wait and get help. It was on him to reach out and get help. It was on him not to trust Crane. Everything was on him. That's not for you to carry.

“You don’t really think that shit is on you, right?”

“I should have seen it.” You sputter. “I should have fucking known, Jay. And the more I think about it, the more I think maybe I did know and maybe I just…let it happen to teach you a lesson about being dumb out there and—“

“Stop.” Jason cuts you off sharply. “You would never let me go after the fucking Joker by myself. You never would have even if you wanted to teach me some lesson. And I don’t think that’s it either. You do the same shit I do.” Jason scoffs. “I went after him. By myself. I do what I always did. I went after him. Alone, And I died alone. Because I never fucking ask for help. That’s not on you. And it’s got nothing to fucking do with us.”

“Yeah, but if you were me?” You question. “You’d be thinking the same thing. There were so many signs and I just…somehow missed every single one of them. I have to think I ignored them and maybe not to teach you a lesson but because I was scared.”

Jason sucks in a breath and he knows you're right because if it were him, he’d never forgive himself. If the roles were reversed, he’d also be questioning how he missed it and maybe he let you do it. Maybe he ignored the signs on purpose. Jason, being on the side he is, knows for a fact you didn’t willfully ignore any sign. You have shown him time and time again that if you have any say in it, you’d never let something happen to him. But, Jason understands why you think that so he sucks in a breath and decides to take some of that Gar advice for once.

“I remember what I was thinking about while the Joker was playing whack-a-mole with my head.” Jason mutters, earning him a grimace and a glare from you.

“Really?” You give him a displeased look.

Jason shrugs. “Well…” Jason sucks in a breath with the quick raise of his brows.

“You do though?” You ask cautiously.

Jason nods. “Yeah, I…I remember everything.” Jason swallows the growing lump in his throat. “Told you that, but…yeah.” Jason nods quickly. “Remember thinking I should have just listened to you. I should have told you because you would have talked me out of it, you would have told Bruce and Dick. I’d be pissed…but you would have helped and I wouldn’t be getting killed. So…just fucking saying,” Jason sucks in a breath and goes back to your wound. “Me dying had nothing to fucking do with you and there was nothing you could have done differently. We weren’t a consequence our own self-destruction. I’m really fucking sorry for all of the shit I’ve put you through.”

Your brows furrow and your heart starts to break again. It must be a horrible task to wake up every single day with memories, even down to final thoughts, about literally dying. You know it’s your own personal hell at this point but the idea of Jason reliving it every single day…it’s worse. And the fact he brought it up without you asking, you know.

“I forgive you, Jay.” You say quietly. “And I really, really, mean that, okay? Your, uh…your last thoughts…were regret?” You ask cautiously.

Jason shakes his head. “No.” Jason answers plainly. “Not all of them.” Jason lets out a breath. The last thing Jason wants is to talk about how the last thing he remembers is knowing he was going to die. You don't need to know that, that's for damn sure.“I-I don’t want to talk about it though. I really just needed you to know that.”

“Thank you, Jay." You watch him carefully, seeing something distant and broken cloud over his eyes. His brows pull together as if he's in pain and his hand starts to shake. You hope he'll talk about it one day. Maybe being brought back isn't all it's cracked up to be. "When you do want to talk, please talk t me.”

“I will.” Jason nods his head at you once before finishing up the wound.

“Maybe we were both just ticking time bombs to get here.” You suck in a breath. “I don’t think we were a consequence and it was real for me. I just…had to ask I guess.”

“Maybe we kept each other from getting here.” Jason nearly mutters the words under his breath before he goes back to fixing up your wound.

You let the silence fill the room as you think about it because maybe he’s right. It wasn’t until he died the two of you fell off the deep end. Sure, things weren’t great for you both mentally but maybe you together helped stabilize some part of you both. Maybe being together was the glue you both needed like a kintsugi sculpture. Putting broken pieces back together to be better than they were before. You both ended up here but maybe that’s better.

In the last two weeks, the two of you have learned more about each other and life and the consequences of everything. Maybe that’s how it was supposed to be. So, you both could be better people today. Maybe you both rely too much on each other to help you mend your broken pieces but that doesn’t mean you were bad together or you were the cause of this. That doesn’t mean who you both are today is worse. Maybe who you both are today is better because it’s honest.

You both are scared but you both are honest and you aren’t letting your fears control every aspect of everything you do. You’re both standing up for yourselves in ways you didn’t think you would. Jason is figuring out his shit now and standing where he should. Where he wants. He’s standing up against people who made him feel worthless, something he otherwise never did too much. Maybe this is who you both are meant to be in the end and maybe that’s not so bad.

“Done.” Jason backs away as you look down, seeing your shoulder bandaged. “Don’t get shot again.” Jason manages the tint of a smirk.

“Gee, I wonder why I didn’t think of that.” You mock him before you sit up and slide the hoodie on entirely.

“Yeah, you really fucking should have. I mean, get it together, babe.” Jason offers a little bit of snark, the smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Okay, fuck you.” You laugh softly. “Thank you.”

Jason nods his head. “Anytime.” Jason smiles softly at you.

You pull out your phone from your other hoodie and hand it to Jason. "It died and in the chaos, I dropped my charging block." You offer a guilty smile as Jason takes your phone and plugs it into his charger. “So, uh, what’re you gonna do about Crane? Like….fuck.” You roll your eyes.

“Kill him.” Jason spits.

“No.” You shake your head. “I was serious. I wanna kill him.”

“Seriously?” Jason quips.

“Yes. I’m sick of people making you think you’re some fucking monster when you’re not. And he fucking sucks anyway. He did everything to you, he almost got Dick killed, he’s gotten innocent people killed, he almost killed me, and he killed or almost killed Tim. Yeah, I’d like to kill him.” You let out a sigh. “I mean, if you really want to kill him for what he did to you, go for it just let me get a shot in. If it’s for me? Let me do it.”

“It’s kind of fucked we’re even having this conversation right now.” Jason chuckles. “Fine. But, I get a few fucking shots in. I meant what I said, no one gets to fuck with you again.”

“And I meant what I said. No one gets to fuck with you, Jason Todd.” You offer him a sweet smile, something that should feel off given you're talking about killing someone but instead, it brings Jason some sort of comfort.

A smirk grows onto his lips before it turns soft. “Can handle myself.”

“Okay, no the fuck you cannot.” You quip back as you let out a soft laugh. “Just because you can though, doesn’t mean you have to do it alone. I got you.” You smile softly at him. "You and me."

Jason remembers a night a few months ago and he was sitting in the library reading because things were just a little too heavy and loud that day. You walked in and started scrapbooking on the floor just so Jason wouldn't be alone. And he remembers thinking how peaceful it was, just the two of you. He remembers thinking he felt lucky.

In a world where he experiences so much pain and unfairness, he felt lucky in that moment and in every moment he got to spend with you. As much as he loves to beat himself up, especially these days, he'd like to think maybe he can be lucky again. Maybe he can be at peace again one day. If you keep on thinking this and keep a hold on him. If you're willing to not let him do this alone, just as you said all those months ago in San Francisco, maybe you can get back to where you were and maybe you both can be lucky and at peace. Maybe the universe will offer some sort of kindness for the suffering it's caused you both.

“What about the Titans?” Jason asks, clearing his throat and swallowing his own thoughts.

“Right, yeah, I uh, I need to talk to Dick still. I told them it was Crane last night, not sure really if they believed me or not. Hope so. I’m sure Gar did so that’s at least good.” You nod your head a few times, hating the idea of having to explain this whole thing to Dick. You're kind of tired of being the mediator.

“We could just go take out Crane ourselves.” Jason suggests casually as he gets up and walks to the other side of the room where he has a mini fridge seated against the wall.

"While that does sound like fun," You laugh softly because you wish you could actually just do that. It would probably put an end to all of this but Dick would lose his shit. “I have an idea.”

“I hate when you say that.” Jason groans as he grabs two bottles of Gatorade and a box of granola bars from the top of the fridge before he walks back over to you. Jason tosses the box and one of the Gatorades at you before he plops down and scoots himself so his back rests against the wall, his legs extending in front of him. "Assumed you haven't eaten or had anything to drink." Jason explains, cracking open his Gatorade while you do the same.

"Yeah, I haven't thank you." You give him a soft smile before you start explaining yourself, grabbing a granola bar before you start your ramble. “Taking Crane out would be a fun time and he deserves it and most of our problems would likely be solved. However, what if Dick is right? What if he does have something bigger planned that we don’t know about? And then we kill him and like…maybe he poisons everyone somehow or blows up the city? I don’t know. We kind of need to know. And knowing his whereabouts would also be kind of helpful. So, what if you just….side with him still? Be the inside guy, right? And then Dick will really believe us that it wasn’t you who shot us and you won’t have to worry about Dick trying to turn you in, I wouldn’t let him but still.”

Jason pauses, holding the open bottle of Gatorade to his mouth. He's pretty sure you're suffering blood loss because that's insane. It's about as insane as you saying he should take the drug to not go through withdrawal. You're losing your sanity. "He already poisoned the water." Jason states.

"He did what now?" You blink at him.

"Your phone died, yeah. The water is poisoned with something he did so don't drink it. GCPD put out an alert this morning." Jason explains.

"Oh, that's fun. Well, still. It's Crane. You know he has something completely insane planned. Probably." You scoot closer to Jason, sitting on your knees right beside him. 

“You want me to work with fucking Crane after he just tried to kill you? That’s fucking insane. Do you know that?” Jason questions with a groan. He wants nothing to do with Crane, even if he could get information from him.

“Yes.” You nod once.

“Fuck no.” Jason shakes his head in the same casual manner before snagging a granola bar.

“Jay, look, okay he thinks he can still manipulate you so let him think that and find out what he’s up to.”

“He won’t tell me shit.” Jason shakes his head in annoyance as he unwraps the granola bar.

“Maybe he will now. If he just tried to kill me and you go back to him anyway, right? Say I turned on you or whatever. That I think it was a setup against me so you wouldn’t have to be the one to pull that trigger. If he knows you’ll turn on me, maybe he’ll finally trust you enough to tell you what’s going on. You’re a pretty good liar sometimes.” You urge him and you know this is an insane idea but it's what you have. The Titans will never figure out Crane's plan without some inside help. They need it.

“You said I was shit liar.” Jason argues, pointing the granola bar at you.

“Well, to me.” You chuckle softly. “I always know when you’re lying but I think you can lie pretty well when you actually need to. I mean, no one figured out you were Robin. And I think that was obvious. I met you and all I thought was that it made sense.”

“This is fucking stupid.” Jason nods his head casually.

“Yeah, well, this whole thing has been fucking stupid. You go back to Crane, work with him and I’ll stay with the Titans. You call the burner when you find shit out and I loop Dick in. You don’t have to physically be home to work with us. You find out, the Titans bring in Crane and shut down whatever shit he’s got going on, then we kill him and you go home.” You explain simply and Jason hates just how convincing you can be.

You make a good point. Jason knows he can lie his ass off, he just wanted to argue. He's worried though because Crane has a way of knowing Jason is lying. It's how he found out about you from the beginning of it all. Jason couldn't just lie because Crane would know. It wasn't exactly a life-or-death situation then though. Maybe Jason wasn't trying all that hard to get away with lying then anyway. Crane admitting his plan would be helpful and Crane thinking you turned on Jason would give Jason enough motive to give up on the Titans entirely. It's not a horrible plan but Jason isn't happy about it.

“Alright fucking fine but this is shit and you know that.” Jason lets out a groan.

“I know.” You smile. “But, it’ll be worth it when his prodigie betrays him in the end.” You scrunch your nose, smiling with pride and Jason can see the light come back to your eyes. He thinks you're gonna be okay.

“You know, kinda hot when you got a plan all ready to go.” Jason offers you a cheeky smirk, his eyes raking over you before coming back to your face.

“I do have my moments.” You grin wickedly at him. “Kind of hot when you actually do what I say.”

“Alright, fuck you. Don't get used to it, babe.” Jason chuckles, shaking his head as the white streak flops onto his forehead. “When we doing this?”

“You could head out now, meet up with Crane and I’ll head back to the manor.” You suggest before taking a bite of your granola bar.

“Alright, just, uh, be careful, please. Let me know if shit happens with the Titans. I don’t want them attacking you for this shit.”

“I got it. I’ve been dealing with them the whole time. Don’t worry, Jay.” You smile softly a him as Jason gets to his feet and stands in front of you.

There's something dark in his eyes this time. He's standing over you as if he doesn't really want to leave. His brows are pinching together in the way they always do when he's worried and his jaw is squaring. He's putting all of the pressure onto his good leg, something you still notice immediately. But, he stands as if he's an unmovable force anyway and the smirk drops from his face.

“I’m serious, alright? Be careful.” Jason sucks in a breath and you've never seen him this kind of protective over you before.

“I will, promise.” You offer him a soft nod before Jason reluctantly heads out.

Jason is still hesitant, keeping his stance in front of you and it feels wrong. It always feels wrong to just leave. But, it's not his place to offer something else in place of him leaving anymore. And he also knows the second he walks back to Crane, that'll probably the last time you see each other until it's resolved. You're going to have to go to the Titans and Dick will likely be watching you closely, to make sure you don't get yourself killed or flip sides again. A lot can happen in a day or a few days and you were just almost killed. It scares the ever-living shit out of him, the very thought of losing you the way you lost him. He hates that he's leaving again. It's what he has to do and he knows that but knowing what he has to do to end this, doesn't make the decision any easier.

Jason leans down, placing his hand on your cheek before he rests his forehead against yours. Your eyes fall closed, a soft and subtle smile coming to your lips.

"Don't do anything fucking stupid and for once, listen to Dick and Gar, alright?" Jason asks, pulling just enough to see your face.

Your brows pull together. "You want me to listen to Dick?"

Jason is still mad at him and maybe Dick wants him dead still. That's always a possibility but something Jason knows, now that he's thinking with a clear head is that Dick does try to protect the Titans. They're his family and he's the leader. And Gar is one of your best friends. The two of them won't let anything happen to you if they can stop it. He knows you taking off had nothing to do with Gar and after last night, Jason thinks Gar would try to actually stop you if it happens again.

Jason's jaw squares, reluctant to say it again. "I'm serious. You got fucking shot." Jason quips.

"Okay." You agree softly, knowing if Jason is asking you to listen to anyone, you should probably take the advice. It always means Jason is very worried and serious. Two things that are a bit unsettling. "I will, promise." You smile softly before pressing your forehead to his for a second. "Now, go, okay? I'll be fine."

Jason nods his head, pulling away and dropping his hand. "I'll call when I find something out." Jason offers one last nod before he turns and darts out of the room.

Jason heads out to an old mechanic shop to meet up with Crane and for the life of him, he has no idea why he's even agreed to this. The only thing he wants to do right about now is kill Crane. He wants to fight him and shoot him and cause him horrendous pain for what he's put you through. He could have killed you and Jason swore no one would ever get away with it. But, now he has to walk in here and pretend he's not pissed about it. He's a good liar, but he doesn't know if he'll actually be able to withhold his blooming hatred.

When Jason meets with Crane, Crane seems to be acting perfectly normal, seemingly believing Jason will always be on his side no matter what. It's something Jason finds to be interesting because he already knew Crane was arrogant. But, he didn't think he was arrogant enough to think Jason would just be perfectly fine with him after being drugged, tricked, lied to, and used. He just shot Tim, possibly ruining his chances of actually going home. He could have killed you. Jason already threatened Crane but Crane seems perfectly fine with everything and Jason's wondering if that's because he agreed to meet.

"You could have fucking killed her." Jason starts with gritted teeth as they walk into the car garage.

"Yeah...sorry about that." Crane says casually. "She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sometimes, there are necessary casualties."

Crane is confident in his ability to manipulate Jason. Crane didn't have a single thing on the kid and Jason still spilled everything about Batman and the Titans. It was easy. It might become more difficult right now, but Crane is confident they'll overcome the current hurdle. After all, for the time being, Crane does still need Jason for his own disposal.

Jason wants to explode right here and take Crane out with him. A necessary causality? That's how you and Tim are being referred to? There is no such thing as a necessary causality when it comes to innocent people. Innocent people don't have to die. They don't have to be hurt. It was a choice Crane made in order to get you out of the way. To show Jason Crane is the one still running the show. And Jason has to stand here and pretend like this is all fine and lie. He's ready for this whole thing to be done and over with.

"You were right anyway." Jason sucks up his pride and do as you tell him. For that alone, Jason should get to kill him after this. "She was going to turn me in. It was all a setup, that's why she was even there."

Crane seems to perk up with Jason's words and he's hoping Crane believes him. "I did tell you she couldn't be trusted. That must be so hard to handle right now. But, see, now you know who has your back." Crane offers an eery smile. "Do I need to finish the job now?" Crane asks bluntly and he is definitely asking to gauge Jason's reaction. He doesn't miss the way Jason's hands turn into fists at his sides with his knuckles turning white.

"No." Jason states. "I'll do it." He states simply, releasing his hands.

"Good. Then you'll have nothing to worry about." Crane pats Jason's shoulder and Jason is ready to change the subject. He hopes that'll be enough bait for now.

"What the fuck is this?" Jason asks, switching the conversation as he looks around.

"This is where the victors go to rest their weary heads." Crane says.

"We didn't win." Jason argues. "They were gonna take me back but you fucked it all up." Sure, Crane did manage to poison the water but from where Jason is standing, it doesn't seem like too many people have been affected and with the alert going out, less people will likely drink the water. They didn't win anything.

"So you had a moment." Crane states simply, completely unbothered. "I've had plenty of them myself. Let bygones by bygones. I forgive you." Crane says before he pulls the cover off a yellow sports car. He lets out a sigh, as if to be pleased by the vehicle. "Sprezzatara."

Jason just rolls his eyes before he leans against the car, resting his back against the A frame. He's annoyed and he wants to get out of here. The hell if Crane forgiving him for? As far as Jason is concerned, he thinks getting him drugged was payback enough for him dealing the drug out behind his back. And Crane seems to be growing a little annoyed with him, too as he lets out a sigh before closing the garage door using the button hanging from a cable.

"Show some respect." Crane says sternly. "Sit." Crane depends, lightly gesturing towards a chair in front of a desk with a computer.

Jason does as told, sitting down and slouching in his seat.

"You know who Edward Bernays is?" Crane asks.

"The sauce guy?" Jason questions.

"Eggs and bacon." Crane says, taking a seat beside Jason. "Classic American breakfast. Do you know why?"

"What's this have to do with--"

"Pork farmers paid Edward Bernays to make it so. See, but Edward Bernays, he had this...this uncle, right? Dear old Uncle Sigmund. As in Sigmund Freud. See, and Freud taught Edward Bernays how the human mind worked. And Edward, he worked the human mind. He didn't sell the proletariat bacon. He sold them the idea that a hearty breakfast was what every doctor thought was best for them. After that, the bacon, it sold itself. Edward Bernays understood that an idea is the most powerful weapon we have." Crane explains before he swivels in his chair to face the computer, Jason eying him carefully and he's getting a really bad feeling about all of this. "It's not the product, it's how you sell it." Crane says as he brings up footage of Nightwing fighting some bad guys and Crane is in some type of editing software. "And Gotham is in need of a new product. We now interrupt your regularly scheduled program to bring you a message for the good people of Gotham.

Jason leans forward as the video starts to play, Crane already having sent it out as alert to every person in Gotham City.

Oh no.

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[wonysugar]

haii guyss…

i feel like it’s been a while since i actually TALKED here? hope you guys are doing okay :] i know some of y’all are already thinking “where is part two of wonder why i’m bitt—“ LET ME EXPLAIN MYSELF i’m just coming on here to tell you a few things that i feel needs to be mentioned,,

so! i want you guys to know that I’M SORRY FOR BEING SO INACTIVEEE writing has gotten a lot harder over the course of the last few months and that i’m really trying:(( life has gotten busier, i have a lot less time to even open google docs in the first place, let alone to actually sit down and finish the million drafts i’ve startedfjksfm and not only that, but i just, feel like i don’t like writing as much anymore?

before you potentially panic!! i’m not deactivating or anything lmao, i think i just need a bit more time to find a pace i’m comfortable with, if that makes sense? basically, granted it’s my complete fault, i’ve committed to writing MULTIPLE wips and as much as i wanna finish every single one of them and post them for you guys to enjoy them, I DON’T LIKE THEMMM I NEVER DOOO… i’m burnt out mane it’s like everytime i write something anymore i just hate it and never wanna talk about it again, yknow? (hence why i kinda don’t find the will to answer asksfkskd but i promise i see all of them and they genuinely all make me smile thank you) THAT WASN’T THE CASE WHEN I STARTED THIS BLOG! i liked writing, i thought it was really fun and partially the reason why i think i borderline HATE it now is because i feel the need to always perfect my fics and have everybody like them (which will obviously never be the case, and i need to come to terms with the fact that my stuff is not for everyone, and that it’s okay!!) basically, the fact that i kinda have a platform now is a bit scary and pressuring considering and i always feel bad that i can’t seem to keep up with your guys’ demands and i’m really sorry but i need time to adjust i think?!:&;&

so all i ask of you guys is that you please please pleaseee bear with me as i’m trying very hard to keep content coming for you guys and that i’m trying to keep that flame burning; if you’re curious about whether or not i’m working on something in particular, please just check my wipsfksmdm seeing all of the asks about sequels is kinda stressful and i always feel bad for taking too long to write them WHICH LEADS TO ME RUSHING THEM I’M SORRY:(( and also i’m gonna be emptying my inbox today so that it’s kinda like a fresh start? feel free to drop your ask again if you really want it answered, i’ll try my best to! :] and say hi i miss all of youfjdkfm

thank you for your time and patience aahh i didn’t mean for it to be this long #notreadingallat, but yeahh it really means a lot to me and i’m sorryfkendn thank you again mwah i love you all, take caree

[alaskan-wallflower]

You asked for Curtis bros and you shall receive 🤭

-Chronically bad vision. All of them. And I think it goes " Ignores it->Contacts-Glasses" in that order (Oldest to youngest)

-They all enjoy different types of art, and will support eachother constantly in the matter. I also believe it goes painting/sewing->doodling/drawing->Writing (same order)

-Ponyboy makes good money when he's older and is able to send Darry into a very early retirement 🥲

-Darry gets a father's day breakfast in bed every year. Even if he isn't their father, they want to appreciate him in some way+ also honor the tradition they had with their actual dad when he was alive.

-Whenever Darry shows up to parent/teacher meetings or just any school event he gets hit on by all the moms, and Ponyboy is absolutely MORTIFIED. Darry thinks it's funny and sometimes he plays into it a little. Just to irk pony more.

-Introvert(good with people)->Extrovert(Bad with people)->Ambivert. (same order)

-I like to think Soda introduced Dally to the gang, and that both Pony and Darry thought they were dating, and were like "It's alright if you...ya know. but..him?" Soda had to defend his life against these allegations but everyone ended up liking salt a whole lot anyway.

-The Curtis Brothers have "family meetings" where it's just the three of them sitting around a table and complaining about each other for like twenty minutes straight 😭 sometimes other members of gang will be there and when they try to speak during the meeting, all three of the brothers will turn on them.

-Soda spent two whole days being consoled and comforted because he was crying over some dumb broad(it was Steve) and I think both Darry and Ponyboy knew this but to make Soda feel better they'd just stick with the lie.

-Darry can cook, and Ponyboy can bake and soda does a damn good job with the dishes so sometimes when they're all feeling up for it, meals are heavenly. Dinner, then dessert, then a movie.

-They're all super competitive, so everything's a competition. Who can brush their teeth the fastest, who can finish their meals faster, who can get to the car first.

-Ponyboy loves books and reading, as we've come to learn, so his optimal gift for any holiday or event is just books. His Christmas list? Books he wants. He enjoys this because it's inexpensive, good entertainment, easily attainable, and something he actually enjoys.

-When soda and Darry were little(Pony was just a baby) they would blame everything on pony 😭 stuff on the wall? How'd pony get a marker? A mess in the kitchen? Who left pony alone? This backfired once pony was old enough to speak and started rating them out for every conceivable thing they could do, even when they werent doing anything wrong. "Mama, Darry got himself a glass of water." "Mama, Sodas coloring. What? No not on the wall. Just in his notebook but,"

-Never Cries->Cries over everything->Cries when it matters(Same order)

-If Darry comes home after a hard day and Pony and Soda knew it was a hard day, sometimes there will be a bath drawn and a nice clean house and a half-decent dinner on the table. They really care about him but it's so hard to show it.

-Thats all. Have a nice day :')

(nearly accidentally posted this w/out anything attached NO)

but OHHH YES-i ate this upppp thank you!

the three definitely make everything a competition, they totally do. they’re just boys lmao also pony with glasses UGHHHH I NEED TO DRAW ITTT-y’all need to stop diving me art ideas (don’t it’s actually really fun and keeps art block away-but also i love how the fandom just agrees soda is a huge crybaby-them blaming everything on baby pony is so real, pony doesn’t even know how to write and soda has clear ink on his hands from drawing on the walls and all fingers go to pony who’s probably sitting there drooling on himself because he’s 1 😭 also the moms fully being 20-30+ his. senior is so funny to me because they’ll ask for his age and he’s like ‘i’m 20’ and they’re like 😨”-also them being artsy AHH-you’re gonna make me fall more in love with those dumbasses

these are incredible in my gosh-thank youuuu!! if anyone else has any hcs they wanna share my inbox is WIDE open!

[fennecfiree]

Why do I see so many people hating on chubby Kyle and saying it doesn’t make any sense? They say, “He's fatphobic! He makes fun of Cartman for being fat! He can't be chubby!” But then they go on and headcanon Stan as being chubby, even though there's more proof of Kyle being chubbier when he's a kid than Stan. (I'm aware post-COVID Stan is chubby, but I'm talking about the kids.)

The same people who tell me my headcanon makes zero sense and that I “made it out of nowhere” (which I didn't—even if I did, why does that matter?) say chubby Stan is so canon, and it makes sense. When your excuse is “Kyle makes fun of Cartman for being fat!”—uhm, Stan does too? What the hell. Can you just let me headcanon something without trying to find something wrong with it? If you don’t like my headcanon, leave me alone. It’s my comfort headcanon. It makes me happy.

“Kyle's probably really buff, though, because he plays basketball.” Stan plays baseball? But you use all this stuff to prove me wrong. Let people have fun. And yes, I do have proof for Kyle being chubby. If you can’t let me have fun with a headcanon, leave me alone and block me. Here’s my PERSONAL proof for MYSELF (you dont have to agree, this is shit that makes it more real to me), so you all can stop saying I made it up from nothing.

And no, i dont headcanon Kyle as taller, then that would mean his height would be why he weighs almost as much as Kyle. I hc him as short.

Btw, this isn't hate for the chubby Stan headcanon. I would feel the same way if someone was being an asshole to people for headcanoning that. I'm just pissed about this. Just let people have fun. wtf. i only hate a hc if it's stereotyping, just weird, or some shit like that.

i just think ppl should stop attacking ppl for harmless headcanons in general.

I am aware that being weak and non-athletic is a stereotype, but I don't portray him like that in my AU. I don't make him weak or unable to defend himself. I understand he's strong, but I just don't make him the strongest in the class. I feel like he's the third strongest. He's not weak at all, and he is athletic. I headcanon him as a jock.

"Well, then how is he chubby?" Chubby people can be strong and athletic. I don't have any negative intentions behind this.

I like adding my personal insecurities onto characters.

There's actual evidence to support this headcanon.

If you don't like it, just leave me alone and block me. It's my comfort hc, and I'm really attached to it. Don't harass me for a headcanon.

Also, why do people think that when I say 'twink Kyle,' I mean the regular Canon Kyle? What the fuck… I'm referring to him being sexualized and people making him into A TWINK. LMAO and making him not able to defend himself.

I swear to God, if you don't like it, leave me alone. Don't harass me over a fucking headcanon. That's really weird. I'm 13, just go away. I'm seriously considering leaving Tumblr because you guys can't handle a fucking headcanon. i don't want to be in fucking drama OVER MY HEADCANON.

[lace-coffin]

Hi, I hope you're doing well, but can I request a headcanon where Bubba had a bad day and was a little sad and S/O starts giving him kisses and hugs to make him feel better. I like your blog so much!

Thank you so much for your sweet words! I’m glad your enjoying my stuff < 3

Reader comforting Bubba on a bad day

Gn!Reader x Bubba Sawyer

Requests are open!

You can see it in the way her shoulders sag like the weight of the world is being held on them, more out of it than usual and despondent. Even people as upbeat as bubba have bad days.

Unsurprisingly being the main bread (or meat lmao) winner for the family can be a big job, mentally and physically. He knows he’s doing it for his family, they need to eat, it’s not optional with the limited resources they have but..sometimes it’s so hard to disconnect from the people they kill. despite only being meat to the sawyer’s, bubba knows that they’re a loved to someone else, a sister, a mother, a new dad maybe.

They understand the weight of loosing a loved one, the entire family essentially falling apart at the seams when nubbins passed. It makes her sick knowing she’s responsible for the same heartache she’s experienced first hand. But is it truly her fault? Without him providing food his family will starve and he can’t bare to loose anyone else.

On days like these it’s best to keep her distracted, play games with the family if you can convince Drayton to begrudgingly join in. (He’ll do it for bubba but won’t admit it) preparing meals for him is a good idea, she’s unable to even look at the meat knowing the origin of it when she’s feeling like this. Try to make dinner more vegetable based on these days, you can even harvest the vegetables from the garden as an activity to take her mind off it. Don’t let chop help though unless you want to watch him throw dirt at his little sibling. He’ll clear off if you threaten to put an earthworm in his plate lol.

Insist on helping them with the dishes in the evening, dancing stupidly to music on the old crackly radio as you scrub. Thank him for his help and place little kisses on his cheeks, basking in his warmth like you’re the only two people in the world. safe in the sanctuary of the kitchen.

This regularly leads to clumsily slow dancing to unfitting music on whatever station you found first. Neither of you actually know how to slow dance, more just leaning into eachother and waddling side to side but you don’t care enough to learn, just happy to be held.

Eventually it’s time for bed, both of you exhausted, you from doing the brunt of the housework and bubba carrying that post depression exhaustion. Undoing the mask comes next, it’s not an easy feat. Bubba isn’t sure whether she feels more or less herself in the mask, unable to express herself without but bound to one expression in.

Gently pry the mask off and sit in front of the mirror with them, walk them through your favourite parts. Trace the bump of his nose, slightly crooked from a tussle with a victim, never quite healing right. Cup his warm full cheeks and dust them with kisses and praise. Tease your thumb over her plump lips, tell her they remind you of a cherub, sent from heaven just for you.

If you can love bubba than there must be something worth loving about himself, he thinks.

Being the big spoon is a good idea in these moments, let them feel small and protected under you, tracing over their curves and freckles gently, making them whine and shiver. She’ll never completely forgive herself for the things she’s done but it helps that you see beauty in her, the love, the compassion, the emotion. She just wishes she could see those things in herself on hard days.

For now this is enough, the coziness of your body blending into his until it’s unidentifiable where you begin and bubba ends. In some ways it already feels like you’re becoming part of eachother the longer you bond and the deeper you fall. You fall asleep after whispering a hushed “I love you” into their hair and receiving bubba’s sleepy equivalent of the same. Today was tiresome but the sun will rise again over the homestead, bathing the two of you in warm light and readying you for another day in eachother arms.