how it feels entering an 'x reader' tag and seeing other maladaptive bitches sharing the same exact slimy, gooped out, gooey thoughts about ur fav fictional character
jason todd x reader, fluff, alcohol, language, suggestive, crack-ish
You were sat on a closed toilet seat in a cramped bathroom stall inside a dingy bar your friends had dragged you to for a girl’s night out. You were practically pushed into the car because apparently according to your friends you had been ghosting them ever since you moved in with your boyfriend.
Not your fault that you were beginning to enjoy the quiet evenings you and your boyfriend shared more than going out to a cheap, loud bar and drinking too much tequila to the point you couldn’t see straight.
No you preferred to be at home, curled up on the couch with your Jason, a book in his hand that you read together with the lights dim and lavender scented candles all around you.
You enjoyed your boyfriend rolling his eyes at you grumbling something about fire hazards as you lit yet another candle. You enjoyed him huffing and puffing when you flipped the page a bit too fast because of course he read with all the punctuations, of course he took a three second pause at every comma. You enjoyed watching him make you two dinner while you sat on the counter, swinging your legs.
Now you were hidden away inside the bathroom, ringing him for the third time, praying he would pick up.
“Jay?” you mumbled as soon as he picked up.
“Hey doll,” he replied, lazily.
“Where were you?” you slurred.
“Just finishing up something at the batcave. What’s up?”
“Can you pick me up? I don’t want to be here anymore,” you said with a pout, voice barely audible.
“Baby what’s wrong? You’re not enjoying yourself?”
“No a guy keeps hitting on me even though I told him I have a big scary boyfriend,” you huffed.
“Not that you’re scary, you’re very cute. A cutie patootie, my baby, my heart you’re the smallest person ever,” you rambled on, making him let out a chuckle.
“Where are your friends?” he asked.
“They’re not good people Jay!” You exclaimed.
“Really? Why’s that?” he drawled in an amused tone.
“They told me it doesn’t matter if I have you, when I’m drunk I get a pass to,” you halted mid sentence and cupped your hand over your mouth as if to whisper a secret, “make out with other people,” you finished in a hushed tone.
“What?” he scoffed.
“Yes! As if being drunk means you can kiss anyone! I don’t want to kiss anyone but you Jay,” you breathed out making him chuckle again.
“My girl’s loyal even when she’s hammered,” he replied, still laughing softly.
“I am NOT hammered,” you defended yourself but the slur in your voice betrayed you.
“Sure angel. Share your location with me I’m coming to get you,”
“Okay but I’m hiding in the bathroom because that man is outside and he’s so short! He doesn’t know I like tall boys, tall boys who read and… and ride motorcycles and have huge biceps and a kissable mouth and… and are named Jason Todd,” you finished and this time he let out a full blown cackle.
“God I love you,” he replied, still laughing. “Come outside when I call, no sooner okay? I don’t mind waiting,”
“Yes yes, I’ll see you,” you smiled, hanging up the phone and walking out of the bathroom to your friends.
Fifteen minutes later, you walked out of the bar after Jason called to let you know he was here. You spotted your car right away with him leaning on the door, arms folded over his chest looking every bit like the ‘scary boyfriend’ you had mentioned earlier. You smiled and stumbled towards him immediately putting your arms around his neck.
“I missed you,” you mumbled into his chest as you felt his hand brushing your hair out of your face and put it in a ponytail, securing a black hair tie around it that he always wore on his wrist.
“Missed you too gorgeous,” he replied, cupping your face to examine your eyes. “You’re drunk out of your mind aren’t you? How many drinks did you have?”
“Umm, I lost count after drink number eight,” you replied, still leaning on him.
“Oh angel,” he sighed and opened the passenger side of the door for you, helping you in the seat as he fastened the seatbelt around you.
He quickly got to the driver’s seat and started the car, giving you occasional glances as he drove. A hint of an amused smile prominent on his lips.
“What?” You asked when he looked at you for the fiftieth time.
“Nothing baby, nothing at all,” he said, looking back on the road, biting the inside of his cheek to hide a smile.
Within ten minutes, Jason was pulling up in the building’s parking lot, parking at your designated spot. He walked around to your side of the car and helped you out, grabbing your purse and tugging down your skirt that had ridden up way too high.
“Don’t pick me up!” you said the second you felt his hands on your thighs. “I’m not drunk I can walk.”
He pulled his hands back and raised them to show you that they were nowhere near your thighs. He put one arm around your waist and held you way too tight, the other holding your purse as he led you to the elevator.
Once he managed to get you inside, he immediately lifted you up, dragging you to the bedroom despite your protests.
He carefully sat you down on the seat next to the window and walked towards the dresser to grab your sleep shirt (which was really one of his shirts that had mysteriously gone missing one day until he found you sleeping in it and never asked for it back) and shorts.
He kneeled in front of you, undoing the knots of your thigh high heels and rolled his eyes at your huffs.
“You already look like a wet dream then you go ahead and wear stuff like this and wonder why every guy wants you,” he grumbled under his breath.
“Do you not like it Jay?” You asked in a low voice, trailing your feet –that was now free, up his chest to his jaw and poking his cheek with it.
He grabbed your feet and put it back down, smacking your thigh lightly. “Behave,” he ordered.
“Are you telling me what to do Jason Todd?” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Do I need to remind you that you’re on your knees in front of me right now?”
He rested his forehead on your knees and put his hands on your thighs, rubbing his palms up and down the bare skin.
“I wasn’t complaining angel, I want you to walk all over me in your high heels,” he replied, unbuttoning your skirt.
“Jay…” you breathed out, grabbing ahold of his hair and pulling his head up. “I want you-”
“Not while you’re drunk, now get up,” he interrupted and stood up straight, taking you with him.
“I’m not drunk!” you protested as you felt him tug your skirt down. “You’re already taking off my pants, take off yours too so you can take me right here,” you offered.
He cursed under his breath and gestured for you to raise your hands so he could take off your top.
“Don’t say things like that,” he muttered, bending down to help you in your sleep shorts.
“Just so you know a lot of guys would beg to fuck me right now,” you rolled your eyes, admitting defeat as he put a shirt over your head.
“And I’d be right behind you, breaking their necks,” he replied, cupping your face to plant a kiss on your lips.
“Jayyyyy,” you whined, fiddling with the clasp of your bra under your shirt as you tried to take it off but your hands shook in a drunken haze, throwing you off balance.
“Whiny girl,” he clicked his tongue and unbuckled your bra with practiced ease, helping you take it off from underneath your shirt.
“I’ll suck you off you don’t need to do anything to me,” you offered again, grabbing the front of his shirt.
He sucked in a harsh breath and leaned down to pick you up again, walking you both towards the bathroom.
“You’re trouble,” he said, setting you down on the counter.
“You can teach me a lesson,” you giggled when he glared at you while rummaging through the drawers under the sink.
“Close your eyes,” he instructed and pulled you forward until you felt him touch a makeup wipe to your face, wiping away your makeup.
“You’re so nice to me,” you mumbled, wrapping your thighs around his waist.
“Someone has to,” he whispered, eyes narrowed in concentration as he focused on wiping away the highlighter from your nose. “What is all this stuff?” he muttered, grabbing a fresh makeup wipe to wipe your eyeliner.
Once he was done wiping your face, he pulled you out of the bathroom and in the living room couch, grabbing a bottle of water with some pills from the kitchen and set them down on the coffee table.
“Take this,” he said, pressing the pill in your palm.
“I don’t want to,” you whined.
“Sweetheart it’s just water,” he sighed.
“I’ll take it if you fuck me,” you negotiated.
“Shut up and take it.”
“Just like that,” you breathed out, smirking.
He sighed and grabbed your cheeks between his thumb and fingers, causing your lips to part so he could drop the pill on your tongue, handing you the water bottle. You rolled your eyes and took a sip, gulping the pill down.
“I’m tired,” you told him, resting your head on the back of the couch and closing your eyes.
“Hey! Don’t fall asleep just yet,” Jason said, booping your nose.
“Why not?” you whined again, throwing your body on top of his on the couch, resting your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes again.
“Baby,” he sighed. “Come on pretty, you’ll wake up with the worst hangover if you sleep right now and then you’ll yell at me.”
“Well everything thats wrong in my life is your fault,” you replied, snaking your hand under his shirt to rest it on his hard abs.
“Come again?” he scoffed in disbelief.
“You won’t fuck me, you won’t let me suck you off and you won’t let me sleep. What do I do?”
“You sit there like a normal person until you sober up a bit so I can put you to bed,” he replied, taking the hair tie out of your hair.
“How about I sleep on you right now,” you said, voice suddenly turning slow, alarming him.
“Babe!” he exclaimed. “Don’t sleep.”
“How do you plan on keeping me up?” you giggled, resting your cheek against his.
“You’re a pain in my ass,” he murmured in your neck.
“You love me still.”
“More than I probably should actually,” he nodded his head. “Tell me how tonight went.”
Your head shot up from his shoulder as you grabbed his face to plant a kiss on his lips before your eyes widened.
“There were so many guys! They all kept asking me if I wanted to go back to their place and I told them all that I already have a place with my boyfriend but they laughed at me and said I was lying because you weren’t with me,” you huffed out.
“Like! Sorry dumbass my boyfriend is the fucking Red Hood who protects idiots like you?” You added, rolling your eyes. “He told me I didn’t have to tell you a thing and that he and I could have a good time like! You show me the best time Jay! His dick is probably half as big as yours, he wouldn’t know what to do with all this if it hit him in the face,” you murmured the last part, grabbing Jason’s hand and putting them on your ass.
“Not that it would, it’s only meant to hit you in the face,” you reassured him with a wet kiss on his cheek.
“You’re such a weirdo,” Jason laughed, rubbing his hands on your hips and pulled you close to his chest. “My weirdo.”
“And you’re my heart.” You replied, putting your palm over his chest. “My whole entire heart, I would tattoo you on it if I could. I should probably tattoo your name on my forehead.” you said, excitedly.
“Do that,” Jason agreed, hands travelling up your back to slowly rock you.
You two stayed quiet for about fifteen minutes as you sat, straddled on Jason’s lap while he rubbed his hands up and down your back.
Suddenly, you pushed yourself off of his thighs, getting on your knees in front of him and looked around the living room for something. Jason raised his eyebrows in confusion as he watched you grab the old keychain from under the coffee table, holding up to him.
“Jason Peter Todd, please do me the honour of being my wife,” you beamed up at him as he watched you with pursed lips and amused eyes. “Husband. Shit I messed it up,” you sighed dropping your hands.
“You know what? Let’s get you to bed after all,” Jason replied, picking you up as you wrapped your arms around his neck.
“But will you please marry me?” You asked again, kissing his cheek.
“Sure sweetheart,” he replied, setting you down on the bed as he got in beside you and pulled the covers up to your face.
“When will we get married?” You pressed, draping your leg over his hips.
“One day,” he hummed. “Real soon,”
“Why?” you suddenly frowned.
“Why will I marry you?” he asked, making you nod in response.
“I thought you didn’t wanna get married? What changed,” your voice turned extremely low with your eyes holding so much sincerity in them that Jason’s heart ached.
“Well a year ago a little freak walked into my life and turned me upside down,” he whispered, tightening his arm around your waist.
You giggled and kissed the corner of his mouth, resting your head on his pillow. “Can we get married tomorrow?”
“Whenever you want doll,” he smiled.
“Tomorrow then,” you sighed, closing your eyes.
“If your head hurts in the morning, it’s not my fault okay?” he checked, pulling you close to him.
“Okay,” you reassured, you and him both knowing it was a lie and that he would end up staying in bed with you for hours next morning, hearing you grumble and complain about your head hurting.
“Good night trouble,” he murmured against your hair.
“Good night my heart.”
my first ever fic repost feeling like a proud mum
likes comments and reblogs are appreciated, hope you enjoy! <3
And the revelation that maybe you are dating Jason Todd after all.
Word Count: 1588
"Your boyfriend is so nice."
You paused halfway through grabbing your drinks from the counter. What boyfriend?
The barista sighed, glancing across the room to your company for the afternoon. "My ex wouldn't even order my chai latte for me because he thought it was too girly. Your guy’s definitely a keeper."
She was of course referring to the fact that he ordered for both of you, but you suspected that she was making assumptions about whose drink was whose. People usually did.
Jason liked mochas, he considered them a little treat, an indulgence that he initially used as a reason to go out into the world and live as Jason Todd and not Red Hood. Red Hood only had time for instant coffee, canned coffee, or energy drinks. But Jason Todd? Now he had time for a mocha. Sometimes he’d even say yes to being given a marshmallow.
You on the other hand didn’t drink caffeine anymore. You’d hit your surprisingly low limit and made yourself feel nauseous and headachey one too many times, so you weaned yourself off of it for your own sanity. But you still liked the taste so you usually got a decaf.
The problem is, Jason didn’t look like a mocha person. So when he ordered for both of you, the usual assumption was that the mocha was yours. Swapping cups had become so routine for you both that you could probably do it with your eyes closed.
The barista’s complaint about her ex was still relevant, though. Jason truly wasn’t worried about whether or not his chosen drink was manly enough. It was one of many things you liked about him.
You looked over your shoulder, watching him type something on his phone for a second before you turned back to the counter. "Yeah, Jason's great."
And he was great. But he wasn't your boyfriend.
This had been happening a lot lately, people mistakenly thinking the two of you were a couple. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence really, it was just that... Well, Jason wasn't correcting them anymore.
Sure, he sometimes pretended you were his partner so people wouldn't flirt with him or ask him out.
Dying as a teenager had left him with a big gap in experience related to romance and everything it entailed, which made him feel awkward and clumsy in that particular department. He told you once that it was mostly the expectations made him uncomfortable. Some people thought that because he was attractive he had experience, which tended to make them... Bolder.
And an inexperienced Jason Todd had a hard time matching that energy.
But usually when well-meaning people with no ulterior motive called the two of you a couple he would correct them. Until recently, that is.
You liked helping him, really you did. You knew what it was like to have someone doggedly pursuing you and not really knowing how to get them to take a hint. But you were starting to worry that playing along wasn’t helping him or you with your respective dating situations.
You thanked the barista, taking your decaf latte and Jason's mocha back to the table. "I'm gonna have to start charging you."
Jason looked up at you with a wry smile and a raised brow. "I thought I paid for the coffee already."
"Not that." You sat down across from him, sliding his drink towards him.
"Then what?" He asked, taking a careful sip of his drink. “Because we’ve had this deal where I pay and you fetch for a long time now, so it can’t be that.”
"That's the third time this week that someone has thought we're dating." You tutted, nodding your head in the direction of the pretty barista. "You're my friend and I love you but you've gotta stop using me as a shield, Jason."
He coughed, swiftly putting his cup down. Some of his drink sloshed over the rim and onto the table. "A shield?"
"I know you're not very good at flirting but you'll never be comfortable with it if you don't practice or something." You barrelled onwards, not really noticing the look on his face as you reached for a napkin to mop up the spill. "And it's so easy, too. Lots of people flirt without even realising."
Jason just watched you in confusion, but you were too focused on cleaning up the mess to even notice the odd look on his face.
"I don't want to make you think that I’m mad at you or that I think you’re using me or something so of course so you can use me as a shield if you want." You continued, trying to decide if you needed another napkin or not. "But this is getting a little out of hand, I mean, you don't even correct people anymore."
He started to say your name, but you'd gotten into the zone now.
"So either you need to start correcting them again," you pause, reaching over to swipe another napkin, "or you need to take me out on a date sometime soon."
It was meant to be a joke. A light-hearted, somewhat hopeful joke. You were careful to keep your tone light and teasing, to not let any of your true feelings leech through lest he figure out that you liked him that way.
But none of that mattered because, when he finally got the opportunity to get a word in, Jason turned your entire world upside-down.
"I thought we already were dating."
You stopped everything. One damp napkin in your hand, another halfway to the same location to wipe up the last few drops, Jason's eyes on you, and absolutely no thoughts going through your mind.
He what?
The only response you managed to muster was an exceedingly eloquent: "Huh?"
"I asked you out to dinner three months ago." He explained, brow furrowing with concern. "Remember?"
"We go out for dinner all the time."
"Yeah, at a diner or a bar."
"I thought you were just being whimsical or something. Variety is the spice of life, and all that."
"I got you flowers." He pressed, his frown deepening. "We got all dressed up. I kissed you good night?"
It was your turn to frown now. "Yeah, on the cheek."
Jason scoffed. "Well I wasn't about to kiss you on the lips on the first date."
"Okay, from your perspective, how many dates have we had now?" You dropped the napkins, deciding to let them do the rest of the work all on their own so you could fully focus on this. "And how come you haven't kissed me on the lips after any of them?"
"I dunno. You didn't seem to want a kiss." He shrugged, mumbling his thoughts as he looked down at his hands. "I figured you just wanted to take it slow."
You stared at him, not sure how to even begin responding to that. Instead, you thought over the last three months in your mind with the lens of this new information.
In hindsight, Jason had been pretty nervous when he asked you to have dinner at that restaurant. You'd chalked it up to him worrying that you would hate the idea, because you'd always been a takeout and pyjamas kind of person.
But now?
Now you realised he'd been nervous because he thought he was asking you out on a date.
And now you realised that he'd stopped correcting people about your status as a couple right after that night.
Every single time you'd hung out with him now had brand new context. Every weird little thing he'd done that you'd brushed off as just Jason being Jason was suddenly a whole lot clearer.
Because it wasn't Jason being Jason.
It was Jason being your boyfriend.
And you just hadn't noticed.
"Damn..." You rested your head in your hands. "I feel so stupid right now."
"Yeah." He gave a dry chuckle. "Imagine how I feel."
Oh. Crap. He thought-
"I'm sorry." You blurted out, looking up so fast it's a miracle you didn't get any whiplash. "I'm sorry I didn't notice that it was a date. I really just thought... I mean, I guess I just never thought-"
"It's fine." Jason's smile was just a little too tight as he took your apology the wrong way. "Forget about it. We can just pretend it never happened, okay?"
You acted quickly, hoping you could still salvage this: "What if I don't want to?"
And now it was his turn to let out a very eloquent: "Huh?"
"Well you're like, what, ten dates-?"
"Twelve."
"Twelve dates ahead of me! That's just not fair." At that, you crossed your arms, shooting him a teasing smile. "I think I have to make it up to you. Since we're dating, and all."
"So you..." He trailed off, now baffled by your wanting to date him rather than your not realising you'd been dating him this whole time. “You do want to date after all?”
"Well, duh." You reached over the table, grabbing his hand and lacing your fingers with his. "I would have been a way more enthusiastic partner if I'd realised. I might just become insufferable now, but there's no take-backs."
"Alright, I think I can live with that." Jason grinned, looking down at your hand in his with this giddy look on his face that you decided you had to see at least once a day for the rest of your life. For science. "So... Where are you gonna take me?"
Thanks for reading! I am an Inexperienced Jason Todd enjoyer so you can probably expect that in some flavour for most, if not all, of my fics for him. Also I think he deserves a marshmallow sometimes. As a treat.
Dividers by @/strangergraphics
Initially inspired by This Lovely Fic by @twentytomidnight so go give that a read. (If you want. I can't tell you what to do.)
When you were pregnant, Simon was so worried she would be huge like he was. He lived in terror that the birth would be horrendous for you. He felt so guilty, blaming himself for a scenario that he made up. The thought of doing anything to hurt you was torture for him.
But, when she came out, she was tiny. Little fingers and just over 5lbs. Simon had never held something so little. He could hardly even believe it when he took her into his arms for the first time. This tiny little thing was his and yours. Perfect and ridiculously miniature.
Her little fingers wrapped around his thumb as she makes little frustrated sounds. “Don’t think she’s a big fan o’ me, Lovie.” It comes out as a joke, but for him, it’s a half truth. One of his biggest fears coming out, trying its hardest to damper his mood.
“She’s just hungry, Si. She likes you plenty. She’s only about an hour old.” You smile tiredly as you look at your large husband cradling your impossibly tiny little girl.
Your daughter pulls his thumb forward, trying to nurse on him. “Ah wrong one, darling. You’ll need mummy for that.” He laughs. You swear if you didn’t know any better, you would think he was crying.
Warnings: Firearm, break-in, and jumping out of the window with a dog (he’s fine)
You were sound asleep when the lock on your bedroom window clicked open.
Your dog, Luther, growled lowly from the corner of your bed, teeth bared and hackles raised.
You startled awake, clutching your chest and staring at the protective German Shepherd. Your gazed moved past him and toward the massive figure stepping through your window.
You jumped up, not even fully having enough time to look at the man, or potentially creature. You grabbed your firearm from your bedside table and pointed it at the man-creature, who was now walking towards you.
His voice was low and gruff when he spoke, saying, “I believe you have something that belongs to me, love.” He said, gesturing towards the dog who had stopped growling upon hearing the man’s voice.
You blinked in surprise before shaking your head. “You can’t have my dog! He’s mine, I got him two weeks ago at the shelter!”
The man grabbed the pendant on collar around Luther’s neck and scoffed. “Luther? You couldn’t have picked a better name for him?”
Luther was now sprawled out on your bed, tail wagging and tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth happily.
“Luther, come.” But Luther didn’t listen to your command, staying right beside this, clearly British, stranger who had just walked into your home uninvited.
“His name isn’t Luther, it’s Riley. He’s a trained military guard dog, and he’s mine.”
You blinked at the man, dumb founded. Your dog? A trained military dog? That was impossible! Luther was a pampered pup who got cranky if he didn’t get two cookies before bed. The dog growled at his own reflection for gods sake! There was no way he could be a highly trained piece of military equipment!
“I need proof that my dog was your dog, and that you didn’t just break into my house because you liked the look of my dog.” You said as you reached your arm out to turn on the light, your other hand still pointing your gun at the stranger. As the light filled the room, you saw the skull mask that the man wore and you took a step back.
“Riley,” The man barked, “angehen!”
Riley immediately tackled you onto the bed, sending your gun flying. He laid himself across your body, pinning you under the weight of his 110 pound body.
“Okay!” You wheezed out, lungs being slightly crushed by Luth-Riley’s weight. “I believe you! Just get him off of me!”
The man chuckled before ordering, “Riley, komm zu mir.”
Riley hopped off of your chest and onto the floor with a thud before moving towards the mysterious man before you.
“Ghost!” A man yelled from outside your window, “Are ya comin? We’ve gotta go!”
Ghost turned his head towards the window before turning back to you. “Sorry about your dog, miss.” He said, dropping a hundred on your dresser.
“Sorry for wh-?” You let out a scream as the man grabbed your German Shepherd under one arm and jumped out the window.
You ran to the window, expecting an utterly horrific scene, only to see no evidence that the man was ever there.
𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 ✷ established relationship. domestic arguments. fluff & angst. financially reckless behavior. independent!reader. morally gray income sources. soft!red hood. bickering. slightly clingy jason. implied violence. criminal interrogation. protective behavior. unhealthy coping mechanisms disguised as acts of service. rich boyfriend problems.
Dating an independent woman, Jason had learned, was an exercise in chronic frustration. Not the exhausting kind—the kind that settled warm beneath his ribs, irritating and addictive in equal measure. The kind that made him want to grind his teeth one second and kiss her stupid the next. Because loving y/n was easy. Christ, it was the easiest thing he’d ever done. Existing around her, however, was another story entirely.
She refused help with the same ferocity Jason usually reserved for gunfights and emotional repression.
And that was saying something.
Jason liked taking care of people. It was buried somewhere deep beneath the violence, the sarcasm, the helmet, the terrifying reputation, and the lifetime’s worth of anger issues, but it was there. Raw and instinctive. He liked memorizing what people needed before they asked for it. He liked patching wounds, carrying heavy things, walking on the outside of the sidewalk, checking locks twice before bed. Maybe it came from a childhood where nobody took care of him properly. Maybe it came from being Robin once upon a time, before the world had split him open and rebuilt him meaner. Whatever the reason, taking care of someone he loved felt as natural to him as breathing.
Unfortunately for him, y/n would rather throw herself into oncoming traffic than accept assistance gracefully.
Which was deeply inconvenient considering Jason Todd had money now. Not respectable money, obviously. Not “stocks and mutual funds” money like Bruce. Jason’s finances existed in a morally gray area populated by terrified drug lords, black-market deals, confiscated cash, and the occasional envelope Bruce shoved into his hands disguised as “mission funding” when they both knew it was guilt money.
Jason accepted all of it without shame.
And when he got a girlfriend? Jesus Christ.
He immediately developed the overwhelming urge to spend every cent on her.
Not in an obnoxious way. Not because he thought she couldn’t survive on her own. If anything, y/n surviving independently despite Gotham actively trying to eat people alive was one of the things he admired most about her. She worked herself ragged, paid her own bills, handled her own problems, and carried herself with this stubborn, infuriating pride that made Jason want to simultaneously shake her and marry her.
But he loved her. Of course he wanted to make her life easier.
Apparently that made him public enemy number one.
Every single attempt at paying for something turned into a war of attrition.
Coffee dates were the worst. Jason would buy their drinks with the smug satisfaction of a man fulfilling his divine purpose as a boyfriend, only for his phone to buzz ten minutes later.
Y/N SENT YOU $10.00
Jason would stare at the notification with pure resentment.
Once, after their fourth argument about it that month, he’d deliberately paid for dinner while she was in the bathroom, thinking he’d finally outsmarted her.
The next morning she’d transferred him exact reimbursement down to the tax.
Psychotic behavior.
Another time, he’d tried being direct about it.
“You know normal girlfriends let their boyfriends spoil them,” he muttered while leaning against her kitchen counter.
Y/n, sitting cross-legged on the counter eating a banana with the confidence of a woman impossible to embarrass, looked unimpressed. “Normal boyfriends don’t source their income like Batman’s most wanted.”
“That’s hurtful.”
“That’s accurate.”
Jason narrowed his eyes before pulling a thick stack of cash from his jacket pocket and tossing it onto the counter beside her. “Take it.”
She glanced at the money, then at him, then back at the money. “I don’t want your guilt money from your daddy.”
“It’s not guilt money,” Jason corrected immediately. “It’s drug money.”
Y/n stared at him slowly, banana halfway to her mouth, looking genuinely uncertain whether she should kiss him or book him a therapist.
Jason had shrugged like that clarified everything.
Because to him, honestly, it did.
Then there were the bills.
God, the bills argument nearly killed him.
It had been late evening, rain tapping softly against the apartment windows while Gotham drowned itself in neon and smog outside. Y/n’s apartment wasn’t terrible, but it was small in that distinctly Gotham way—thin walls, unreliable heating, pipes that screamed like dying animals whenever someone showered. Jason practically lived there anyway despite technically owning a much nicer place. Mostly because he preferred her cluttered little apartment over any penthouse money could buy.
She was sprawled on top of him on the couch, wearing one of his hoodies and soft sleep shorts, her cheek pressed into his neck while he worked on his laptop balanced precariously against her lower back. One of his arms rested around her waist automatically, hand underneath the hoodie, fingertips tracing absent patterns against her skin while he typed with the other hand.
“Ugh,” she groaned suddenly into his throat. “My landlord is up my ass about rent.”
Jason’s fingers paused over the keyboard instantly.
“How much?”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”
“You were gonna offer money.”
“I was gonna offer money.”
She made a triumphant sound against his skin. “Exactly. Denied.”
Jason clicked his tongue in annoyance, shifting slightly beneath her. “Baby, I basically live here anyway. Let me help with bills.”
“No.”
“You’re working doubles.”
“I’ll survive.”
“You shouldn’t have to survive,” he muttered.
That made her lift her head slightly. Her expression softened around the edges when she looked at him, because no matter how much they argued about this, she knew where it came from. Jason wasn’t controlling. Wasn’t condescending. He wasn’t trying to own her.
He just loved hard. Recklessly. Like a man who never learned moderation.
“I wanna do things myself,” she said quietly. “I need to prove I can.”
Jason looked at her for a long moment.
Most people saw anger first when they looked at him. Violence. Volatility. But underneath all of that, Jason understood pride better than almost anyone. Understood what it meant to claw your own survival out of the dirt with bloody hands. Understood how humiliating dependence could feel.
So instead of arguing, he just sighed softly through his nose and kissed the top of her head.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Okay.”
Which should’ve worried her.
Because when Jason Todd stopped arguing, it usually meant he’d already decided to do something significantly worse.
The next afternoon, while Jason was in the middle of interrogating a weapons trafficker, his phone vibrated in his pocket.
He glanced at the caller ID and immediately smiled beneath the Red Hood helmet.
“Hey, gorgeous.”
“You paid my fucking rent?”
Jason leaned casually against the damp brick wall beside him while the criminal tied to the chair whimpered quietly in the background.
“For the next six months, yeah.” He checked his gun lazily. “Oh, and your car’s in the shop. Your brakes sounded like a dying walrus. Figured I’d get them replaced.”
There was silence on the other end.
Then came one long inhale that positively radiated fury.
Jason grinned harder.
“I’m going to kill you.”
“Yeah?”
“You are insane.”
“You still love me though.”
“I’m considering arson.”
“That’s my girl.”
The line went dead with an aggressive beep.
Jason stood there for another second staring at the phone in his hand, helpless affection spreading warm through his chest before he could stop it. The kind that made him feel seventeen again. Human again. Soft in places he usually kept armored shut.
If anyone ever saw the look on his face right now, Jason would actually have to kill them.
With a sigh, he slid the phone back into his jacket and finally turned toward the terrified criminal still zip-tied to the chair in the abandoned warehouse.
“You know,” he muttered while pulling another zip tie tighter around the guy’s wrists, “I buy one woman six months’ rent and suddenly I’m the bad guy.”
The guy had apparently developed a death wish.
“F-females,” he laughed nervously, sweat dripping down his temple. “Am I right?”
Jason’s smile vanished instantly.
Gone was the lovesick idiot paying for brake repairs. This was the man criminals whispered about in panic.
Jason grabbed the chair sharply, yanking it forward until the man nearly choked on his own breath.
“That,” Jason said quietly, “is my girl you’re talking about.”
The criminal went pale.
“And trust me,” Jason continued, voice calm in the way that scared people most, “you do not wanna disrespect the woman willing to date me voluntarily.”
“R-right. I’m sorry. Sorry.”
Jason stared at him another second before sighing heavily and releasing the chair.
After you got Clark to break on doggy, you decide to continue your lessons on sexual pleasure. You’ve shown him lotus and mating press. Against the wall. Prone bone. Even the one with your legs on one shoulder. So you decide to call upon his heritage one night.
Clark pouts as you turn away from him. No seeing your pretty face. But the pout disappears once he realises he can see your ass in perfect view. Clark can watch as you rub your core up and down his shaft. And he can watch as you notch him inside and slide down, inch by thick inch, until he’s bottomed out.
“Darling…” Clark whimpers, hands tight on your hips. You throw a smile back at him, and lord if it isn’t the devil’s.
"Thought you might like this one. Since you're a cowboy and all."
"I'm a farmer-ooooh!" Clark yelps as your hips roll. The position perfectly nudges against your back wall, and your pussy had clenched onto him. That, coupled with the bounce of your ass, had his head spinning.
"Feel good baby?" Your voice is a low, breathy purr that has his cock twitching inside you. You plant your hands firmly on his upper thighs and get to work slowly building up a bounce. Each slide of him against your plush walls had a little moan punched out of you. You could even feel each twitch and spurt of his cock, only heightening your pleasure. He felt so good, pleasure curling your toes and throwing your head back.
"Ah-ah hah-" Clark whines, groping at the fat of your hips and ass. He could watch how your pussy dragged up and down his cock, pussy lips sucking him in like they couldn't bear the emptiness. He felt each flutter, every clench. As you picked up speed, he could feel you dripping down his shaft and balls, the wet plaps echoing in the room. "You look so sexy like this- my pretty girl- m'gonna bust-"
"C'mon baby, come in me!" You whimper, fingers rubbing at your clit in time with your bounces. As your climax rushes towards you, Clark begins to buck up into you, pulling you further down. "Fuck! Clark!"
As your climax rushes over you, Clark grinds his cock against your cervix and cries out. Your pussy's flooded with his come, searing hot and filling you up to the brim.
In his post-orgasm daze, Clark pulls you back into his arms. "I gotta start listening to you more..."
childhood best friend jason todd who makes promises like when i grow up, i'll marry you and then we'll be happy forever- but then he gets adopted by bruce and becomes robin and between all that, loses touch with you and then dies.
he comes back, becomes red hood and its not until he sees you again when he remembers his promises.
you run a small bookstore thats also a safe haven for kids to just loiter around and read-
he goes home and looks up everything about you, everything he's missed out on and what you're upto now- he finds out that you got married and then divorced, something about an abusive husband and sealed police and hospital records- a restraining order as well so he does what he what he thinks is right. he kills your ex for you and then starts to leave little trinkets for you at your shop- giving the kids gifts to bring to you from red hood-
this goes on for weeks and weeks until you stand outside your little shop, hands on your hips, looking up, trying to find him-
he lands right infront of you and takes off his helmet, you still dont recognize him. he's older now, scarred, his eyes aren't even blue anymore-
its not until he says im all grown up and i still wanna marry you that you realize who he is- and all he can do is hope and pray that you still want him the way he wished you did when you were kids.
umm not sure if i like this but omegaverse kinda-neglected reader! x tf141 (ghost focus), angst, good ending, gn!reader, SFW
You’re a beta. That should come as a relief, many tell you every day they wish they were your designation instead. No heats, no ruts, not even stinking up a room when you got a bit too overwhelmed by an emotion.
Just in the middle: a nice calming scent, a decent paying job— never too high, a beta CEO wouldn't be able to control anything— and the lack of any crazy season that would get you all flustered. Your sense of smell was incredibly different to theirs, but you werent given much chances to complain considering all they went through in heats.
So naturally you were taught your life revolved around alphas and omegas, all the way from secondary school when you were sat next to the reactive Alpha’s to “try and make them behave better”. In biology class your designation was skimmed over very quickly in favour of understanding how to react to their emotional changes and the like, and anything else you had to figure out for yourself.
It’s not like getting out of school into the workforce was much better. Omega’s rights had changed greatly in the past century, and no one would bat an eye at them being in most jobs— so applying was even more impossible. Even when you did get into the workplace, it was like alpha’s would immediately stop listening when there was an omega in the room, or vice versa. Truthfully you were jealous of their natural pull to each other, like the relationships you’d read in books or see in swoon worthy movies.
“There’s all sorts of jobs— chefs, mechanics, cyber analysts, engineers, dont just have to be a soldier.” The army recruiter outside your local supermarket rambles, clearly trying to get at least one recruit today at the minimum. Otherwise he’d definitely get in big trouble. “And you’re a beta, so you can do both work with Omega and Alpha jobs! You’ll be fine!”
“What?” You look at him, that mention perking you up and he looks at you with glee. You were only listening in hopes he’d get you off his back, but that was certainly news to you.
“I bet you’re sick of fighting with even more people for jobs now, huh? In the military omega’s and alphas are kept very seperate, even so, they’re required to be on suppressants so everything’s very easy.”
—————
So, that’s how you ended up here, bullied and forced into the shape of a soldier, something you still feel fake about even after countless deployments. It’s quickly forgotten though when you have the thrill of finally finding your place in society.
Your first team was mostly alphas, a beta here and there, but it felt great to have them treat you equally, slapping a hand on your back and grinning at a job well done. The omega team wouldnt even bat an eye when you were assigned to them, just as welcoming. Truly the best of both worlds, you could be anything you wanted in this system— it was like it was built for you to thrive.
Then the taskforce got established, and by a stroke of luck, you got transferred on. “You always run this early?” A hand lands on your shoulder, and you jump just to meet Sergeant Mactavish’ grin. After completing your demolitions course with flying colours, you soon got assigned under him. His hair is wet, mohawk flat for once, and you can only assume he just washed off. Still, his scent washes over you, easing your momentary shock and you nod, smiling. “Yeah, isn't the water too cold this early?”
“It’s alright. C’mon, let’s go meet the others for breakfast.”
You follow him, the faintest happy scent trailing off of you as you do so, and spiking just the miniscule amount when you sit down at the table.
“Please please give me your bread roll, i love the jam they use for it.” Gaz pleads, clasping his hands together and you can't help but roll your eyes, letting him trade it for his fried egg. “I love you so much-“ He mumbles, already taking a bite out of it that Price rolls his eyes as he takes a seat.
“Almost thirty years old...” He mutters and you giggle, eyes moving to where Ghost comes with his tray, sitting next to Price.
“I saw you on the track, you looked tired.” He says, giving you a pointed look, and making your cheeks flush. Oh, right. The night prior you’d been suddenly awaken to help deal with a feral omega, forced to give up hours of sleep to soothe them to submission..
“Just didn’t get the best sleep. I’ll feel alright after a coffee.” You give him a small shrug, eating more of your food. His eyes linger on you for a moment longer before nodding and carrying on.
The sergeants were more than happy to include you in all their plans, barely batting an eye when your scent wasn't as strong as theirs or in combat training you couldn't hold as much of an intimidating presence. Nor did the Captain and the Lieutenant care either, always praising the fact you could slip by unnoticed, with no chance of wavering from the other two designations and such.
It felt almost like a pack.. and it was perfect. So perfect.
“Johnny, just spill it!” Gaz groans as the Scot dances around the subject for the tenth time that morning, making you all roll your eyes at the breakfast table.
“I got an omega!” The whole table falls silent, and then Gaz lets out a low whistle patting him on the back whilst the Captain nods approvingly.
“And you wont show us a photo?” Ghost chimes in, making Soap stumble to get his phone out, excited as he passes the phone around. A sweet, soft omega. Round cheeks, a bright smile, hanging off his arm like it was the key to her heart. A perfect match to him.
“She looks perfect with you, good on you, son.” The Captain says, giving him a gruff smile and Gaz snickers at his father-like praise. Then they turn to you, as you sit in shock, fork gently clattering on the plate.
Your jaw hurts from how you physically have to force a wide enough smile, standing up and coming around to congratulate him properly. It’s even worse when Kyle insists he should show more pictures and so you stand there between them, making fake ooo’s and aaah’s in hopes it would hide the slightest change in your scent.
It changes everything.
“Soap, me and Gaz are going to the pub later—“
“Ah… cant, omega wants me to watch a movie with her. What about friday?”
“Oh— do you mind if we do some sparring today?”
“Uh.. okay, sure. Just gotta finish up this text to my omega. Ye know she’s getting stronger by the day! I’ve been helping her keep fit, yknow, to stay safe and all.”
“Do you want to go grab lunch?”
“Oh— sure. Feels like i havent seen you in forever.”
You smile wide when he finally agrees to hang out with you again— after all, it’s not like he was acting like this with Kyle. So you both enter the mess, going to grab your plate.
“Ahh.. the ‘mega loves chicken like this, makes hers a bit more seasoned though. Bloody good.” You smile weakly, trying to start your own conversation about work, and the mission you’ll be going with him on.
“Oh ye havent heard yet.” He falls quiet and you tilt your head in confusion, about to place the dish on your tray.
“Havent heard what? Was there a new brief?”
“You should talk to the Captain.”
Confused, you do stop by his office later that evening, gently tapping on the door with your knuckles and announcing yourself. With a weaker scent, he couldn’t tell you apart from the alpha’s across base with their scent blockers on, unlike the rest of the taskforce.
“Come in.”
“Soap said i havent heard something about the mission im going with him on soon? Did something change?”
“Ah, right. You dont need to go anymore.”
You blink in surprise, suddenly really confused by all of this and you step forward a bit more, scent souring. Not that he’d pick up on it.
“He’s a claimed alpha now, there’s no need for a beta to mediate.”
You stand there, the contents of your stomach in your throat as you process his words. Mediate. You werent there because of skills.. the CO who encouraged you to take a demolition course didn't even think you were good at it either. They just needed a beta to mediate in a field lacking them.
“Oh. Right.”
A month passes by of you watching Soap slip away from you, barely talking to you if not about his omega, never joining you on a morning run until you’re sure he’s forgotten about you altogether. At first you had chalked it up to him just being busier with mated life. After all, you’ve witnessed the pull of an omega first hand many times, how it makes them change. Though, his relationship with the alphas didn't change in the slightest.
With his protective instincts he was drawn to the alphas more now, always hanging around Gaz and and Ghost when they weren't busy, beelining straight past you unintentionally. You cant really blame him either, no one remembers the beta’s faint scent.
It was Gaz next. One evening you were leaning against him on the couch, unable to hide your despair and luckily he’d been nice enough to let you sit there without explanation. It was nice, you thought that if you had no Soap, at least you had your other best friend. He always made you smile, and he was the reason you even got a slice of attention from Soap these days.
And then it came.
It started small, just hanging around Soap more often than not. Really you hadnt thought much of it, but it did feel rough when you sat also on the rec room couch just to watch them fully invested in something you could never join in on. You figured it was about Soap’s omega again, not something you particularly wanted to hear about.
Then it turned into turning down bar nights altogether. They would both cancel, Gaz excusing it with ‘plans’ whilst Soap was always honest. Sure you had the whole team, but being in the vicinity of four alphas in an alpha only bar was enough of a scent overload to give any beta a headache.
Then you saw his lockscreen on accident, just wanted to check the time really. It was unmistakably obvious though, the smiles, calmer than Johnny’s one, but just as gorgeous and adorable. A real treat for the eyes.
“Congratulations.” You mumbled when he came back to the couch with his can, raising a brow at you.
“What..?” He knew, of course he did. You knew his lying look.
“Got yourself an omega, when are you gonna tell the others?”
He seems embarrassed, quickly grabbing the phone off of you, cheeks burning. “How did you see that?!”
The next morning he announces it to the team and you join in with congratulating again, only too aware of the cycle that was soon to repeat. Only, it wasn't too bad with Gaz. You were grateful, so grateful when he still would spend a lunch or two with you, or even just talk to you.
“Hey, we going on our usual grocery run this week?” You two were put together on the rota for stocking the rec room and so you both head out, riding shotgun in Gaz’s car.
You both had a copy of the list, walking around the store together, until you eventually got them all. “Oh! Just a second, need to grab some scent stuff.” In the small beta section they allowed, there were really good products to clear out scents from others that’d stick to betas and linger around. After all, you had a keener sense of smell, so being around the taskforce meant it racked up pretty fast on your clothes and on your room.
Kyle was the first you confided in after you suddenly fainted once, at a bar, the scents too much for you to handle. Though you managed to quell it pretty quickly with these. Some you could just spray in your nose and go— perfect for getting rid of the oncoming dizziness.
“You know you dont have to get the fanciest things, just get the base ones. It’s at the back of the store and they’re expensive.”
You pause, he never questioned this before, not even the first time you had nervously told him— afraid to be undermined.
“There’s no base ones..” You say with a raised brow, but you cant bring yourself to be too rude to him. Even if his tone was almost sharp, scolding, as if you were being selfish. Right now it feels like you’re reduced to your designations, and that’s it. Not humans, not friends, not even teammates. Alpha and beta. “There’s only one brand that ever does it.”
“Really? And what about the cheap scent clearers? The ones you used to use before.” He gives you a firm look, challenging, and you swallow, unsure where this hostility came from.
“..They got pulled off the shelf, Kyle. Thousands of beta’s got chemical burns— i couldnt smell properly for a week.”
He pauses for a split second, like he’ll acknowledging the truth in your words and his wrongs, then just huffs, turning to scan where the empty checkout is. “Fine. Get what you want then, but I'm going to pay. I’ll meet you at the car.”
When you return with the small plastic bag, he puts his hand out for the receipt so it can be handed to you at a price for expenses on the card. “I paid for it myself.” You mutter back, your scent tinging sour and in the close proximity it might be noticeable this time. He pauses, and then puts his hands on the wheel, choosing not to comment further.
———————————
The sergeants are on a mission, one you were supposed to be on, but now you’ve been shoved into another with unclaimed alpha’s who need a bit of extra settling. Or rather someone lesser than them they can secretly believe they’re higher than. It doesn't feel much different to secondary school now, and you find yourself with less will to argue about it.
Thankfully, Lieutenant Ghost is here with you. He’s always been alright— not exactly friendly but not rude either. You were quite intimidated by his rank at first, convinced he’d be strict and unforgiving but he’s content if you get the work done.
“Handled that bomb in record time.” He comments beside you on the way back to base. There was another demolitions expert on the team but when news came up that there was another bomb they had not suspected, he immediately put his trust in you to disarm it.
“Thanks for the chance, Lt.” You smile up at him and he nods, acknowledging your hard work. After all, you really did always put in more than your best. Even so, he cant help but notice you sink as soon as he shifts his attention to someone elsewhere, the conversation falling quiet. He’d be blind to notice the gap between you and the sergeants, even if you were a beta and them having omega’s shouldnt even bother you. Him and Price had to regularly reminds them to not walk around in clothes stinking of their partner.
“The sergeants are back from their mission, could hit the pub tonight. Whole team can come”
You feel too bad to decline now, so you just nod. “Okay. Yeah.”
—————
The Alpha only pub is bustling and you offer to grab the third round just so you can escape the thick scents building around you. It doesnt help that you’re basically rationing your scent-refresher as of right now.
“Omega’s doing good.” Soap responds to Price’s questions.. At least you’ll miss this mandatory conversation while you go. The bartender already knows you, greeting you with a welcoming smile as you start your order. It’s all going on Price’s card, so you take the opportunity to get a sundae instead of alcohol. He did owe you one after an explosive you caught right by his position. Besides, it was less than a tenner, and you’d savour it for life.
“Heat’s coming up though. It’s only three days long usually, but should go smoothly. The store almost ran out of supplies too.” Soap sighs loudly, shaking his head and Kyle nods along, also probably having similar issues.
You’re not exactly listening, carefully holding the plate of drinks so you don't accidentally spill it with the countless bodies in this crowd.
“If they got rid of the beta section, they’d have more to spend stocking on the omega stuff.” A soldier hanging around elbows Soap, but he doesnt disagree. If anything the buzz of alcohol just makes him want to finally speak his truth now.
“Right? I mean really? Beta period products? Beta scent enhancers? Like those would actually even work to attract an alpha let alone an omega. Those scent refreshers cannot be real either, i mean, you’d think they’d want to smell us, ya know? Not like they get anything else— ”
The table goes silent, Gaz obviously kicking Soap in the leg until he looks up and meets eyes with you. The other soldier doesnt bat an eye, raising a brow at you. “Oh, your drinks are here. Can you order me two aswell?”
“I’m not a waiter” You snap back, and the Captain stands quickly, taking the tray from your hands and placing it down on the table.
“Think your team wants you back over there.” He motions for the soldier to go with his eyes, and he quickly leaves. “Thanks for grabbing them, i’ll get yours. Come, sit.” He turns to you but you freeze, shaking your head, and turning back into the crowd. “I’ll get it myself.”
“You idiot!” Gaz puts his head in his hands at the very obvious tension from Soap’s words.
“I didn't know they was there!” He retorts, though also slumps into his seat a little more. “It’s true. What do you want me to say?”
“Enough.” Price sighs, pinching his brow, he should’ve stopped the sergeants earlier but he hadnt known he’d be stupid enough to say that. Even if it was something that they were all thinking.
They take their drinks from the tray you brought, Gaz and Soap downing theirs immediately as if that’ll get rid of the dread hanging on their head. Price begins to sip his light chatter starting up again until Ghost suddenly speaks up.
“They still haven't come back.”
It’s been five whole minutes, and there’s no sight of you to be seen anywhere.
—
You’re sitting at the back entrance of the pub, empty at this time with the game roaring inside the pub. The alleyway it leads into is dirty, a few football decorations here and there, but mostly just black bin bags spilling out the large bins. There were two guys who had been staring you down for a while, like you were something that needed saving. The second one of them approached and caught your lack of omega scent, they immediately groaned and just turned away.
You just stick your spoon back in your sundae, not even lifting your head the entire time, just letting the cold sweetness try and keep you together.
There’s a small noise as someone sits down beside you, a rustle of clothing, and then the soft click of a lighter. You turn your head, slightly surprised to find Ghost there instead of a random drunk bloke hoping to score a sweet thing. He meets your eyes but neither of you say anything as you go back to eating your sundae.
“Should’ve got the other one.”
“What?”
“The bigger one.” He shrugs, the cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers. “Price told us to order whatever.”
“This is the only one that can come in a takeaway cup.” You mumble and he doesn't say anything further, not even when you lick the spoon clean.
“Why are you here?” You ask, unable to keep silent anymore. It’s not like he actually came to see how you were, and you’re suddenly glad he didn't come ten minutes earlier when you were on the verge of bawling your eyes out.
“S’posed to be a team night.”
“Maybe for the Alphas.” You grumble and he cant help but hum alongside you, not arguing with you on that fact.
“Cant stand the smell, can ya? Got the takeaway cup cause you knew you’d need to go regardless.” Of course he figured it out immediately, though you’d think it’s impossible to read you given how some people treat you.
“You mad i’m not fawning over your scent?” You scoff and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, making sure no chocolate sauce lingers— especially with how he’s watching you right now.
“Johnny is a stupid drunk, ‘lright?.” He mutters, a bit of bitterness in his tone that always lingers, but it’s not directly at you. “Price’ll convince you it’s just his instincts and all, looking after the omega.”
You look over at him and give him a deadpan look, the most honest you’ve ever been with the man. Usually you’re pretty agreeable, in fact the only time you’ve had a conflicts was when they got injured. Turns out you’re the only voice of reason whenever that happened, as the smell of the blood sent the rest of them into a spiral of worry.
And well, after that, he can't really blame you for being like this.
“I’m going.” You mutter, standing up and throwing the plastic cup in the bin before wiping your hands on your jeans.
To your surprise, he doesnt hesitate to follow you as you round to the front, heading to the little bus stop. It’s not the first time you’ve left early, but it is the first time someone’s made sure you’re alright by the end of the night.
————————
Soap only makes a quick apology which you’re forced to just accept,, because what else can you really do? Mess up a whole team because of one thing he said which wasnt that far from the truth?
As predicted, Price did try and tell you it was due to protective instincts, wanting the best for his omega. Right, the same instincts that made him leave you like you were dirt on his shoe.
Besides, life was getting busier for you as you now got passed between two teams. Either working with Ghost and Price or a different group of alphas. Passed around like a damn stress toy in your opinion.
“So we’re going to the one in the highstreet?” Gaz and Soap are chatting on the couch, not that you’re listening, just getting your things out the cupboard to make yourself a hot drink.
“My ‘mega loves it, craves the food there all the time. She’s gonna love meeting yours.”
Whatever, it wasnt the first time they’ve discussed plans in front of others. Wouldn't be the last.
“I’ll text the Captain and Ghost.” Soap adds, humming as he starts tapping away at his phone, opening their group chat you assume. One that you’re clearly not on, given that they dont invite you.
“You think he’ll even come?”
“He’s not that antisocial.”
“Yeah but he’s only one without an omega dumbass.”
The container you're holding clatters against the table and they both back to stare at you with the exact same wide eyed look you’re giving them. If he’s the only one then Price..
You walk out like nothing happened, even if you can feel the tears start to burn your eyes. It was all going so well, you were all happy together— werent you? So why?
The cycle repeats for the third time. You’re taken off another team, not deemed useful enough anymore. You congratulate Price when you next see him, and he doesn't say more than a thank you. Somehow it hurts more that he didn't purposefully tell you— he just forgot, like everyone else did.
You stopped coming by the rec room the last time the sergeants had a movie night without you. The texts between them and you ran dry, and after skipping one breakfast, you just never came back again. That’s just how it was now, and they didn't even reach out once. In fact, all of the last messages were from you. An unanswered question, a conversation cut short, or a text that just never even got opened.
Except for Ghost. He still spoke to you— well, as much as he’s known to anyway. A hello in passing, a chat between sets in the gym, maybe when you’re queuing for food. As much as you wanted to take the opening, you just couldnt, too terrified to. After all, it was only a matter of time until Ghost left you aswell. You should know that you should savour every last moment, cling onto it tight, but you just can't. It’s not like you two were ever the closest anyway.
——————-
You’ve been moved to an omega team this time. It’s not the first time you’ve worked with one, but usually they can balance each other out easier since they aren't as explosive as Alphas. It also means this is a mission you can't slip up on from the months of work they’ve put into this.
They welcome you immediately, and you grasp the ropes of it all fairly quickly, until it’s finally the day. The prisoners are right where you expected them, and just as told, the one in the middle has explosives strapped all over.
They evacuate the rest out whilst you kneel down before the explosives, watching the wires and where they turn and twist intently whilst the person tries their best not to squirm too hard. Even with your best efforts, nothing seems to match what you know but you frown as you notice the wire reaching towards the chair they’re bound to. Down to the floor.. a weak floorboard. The weight of the chair.. essentially a mine.
One hostage on that chair— you move her off and everyone dies. What do you even do?
“Do not stand up at any point, okay? I’m going to get you out, but you have to trust me.” Shrugging all the gear off, you cut the straps that locks the person to the chair.
You hand her your gear carefully and step back, just enough to reach the doorway. There’s no telling how large this bomb is, but you can assume it cant be enough to seriously damage the ship you’re on.
“Okay, you need to shuffle forward just slightly and place the gear behind you, okay? Then, when you’re ready, cover your head with your hands and run towards me.” The woman trembles, doing as you told and the weight of the gear seems to be a good enough trade off for the mine to not set off.
After that, she bolts, and you pull her through the doorway and as far away as possible, shielding her as the shockwaves rattles through the ship.
———————
Ghost hadnt expected to see his phone buzz at this time, by the infirmary no less. But when they relayed what happened, he had made his way there immediately. You had just come out of surgery, a high enough dose of anaesthesia in you that you just werent acting right. He intended to wait outside until you stabilised, that is until the nurse rushes out suddenly.
“Would you mind coming in, sir? We need someone to restrain them.”
He steps inside to see you squirming against another nurse, slurring and trying to escape your bed, clearly panicked.
“Stop that, you’re going to hurt yourself more.” He reaches for your flailing wrists, forcing the nurses out the way as they stand at the back and watch you get manhandled by the alpha.
Something in his gut feels uncomfortable with the stains of red across the bandages across your body, burns peeking out of some. So he carefully restrains your wrists against each other, holding them firmly.
“L-lieutenant?” You stammer out, dazed eyes searching for him intently until you manage to focus on his mask. Finally you stop freaking out for a moment. He turns but the nurses are already gone, probably called to another patient— the operation you were on had quite a few injuries for different reasons.
“Yeah, it’s me. Y’just came out of surgery, you’re okay now, alright?” He carefully lets go of your hands, helping you reposition yourself after you had tried to squirm off the bed. “I’ll grab the nurse, then we can see when we can get y’outta here.”
The nurse?
You blink at him, looking around at your surroundings, the sterile smell of the place attacking your nose. Simon was an alpha.. and the nurses, well specifically in this wing.. your eyes glance to the sign outside the door, the familiar writing.
“No- no you cant!” You barely manage to grasp his arm as he pulls away and he looks at you in confusion. The beeping in the room starts getting even louder than before, almost incessant and you feel like your chest is going to explode.
“Your heart rate is rising, sarge. You need help—“
“Lieutenant— no, please-“ You whine pathetically as he pulls away from you, leaving him stunned until he reluctantly steps closer again before you throw yourself entirely out of the bed to reach him.
“I wont let ‘em hurt you, promise.” He can only assume you must be scared of needles or something, a fear of medical care surely. He never knew that about you, and it spikes something in his chest, a cog in his head. The fear radiating off of you is palpable, and he can smell the faintest change of your scent in the air.
“No- no! The nurse— she’s an o-omega, you cant—“ You choke out, head getting dizzy from all the sudden movement as you desperately clutch his sleeve. It forces him to stay right there, not the grip on his sleeve but the desperation in your eyes.
“Sarge— i’m not gonna act like a wimp in rut from talking to an omega.” He huffs but he knows you’re out of it. It must be the anaesthetic getting to your head, making you say all these silly things.
“You’re going to leave me- you’re going to—“ A sob escapes you as grip loosens on him and he freezes, watching you curl into yourself. Your forehead gently hits his arm, tears wetting his sleeve.
“I’m right here.” He says, voice quieter and it makes him breathe relief when the beeping settles down to a steadier rate, even if it is still high and you look even worse like this— so lost and terrified.
“You are..” You sniffle, pressing your nose further against his arm. “t-the omega nurse- she- she’ll come and you’ll leave with her. You’ll leave me- a-and never speak to me again, please- lieutenant please.” Your hands tighten and he swallows sharply, letting your words sink in.
It was never about envy, not even the way you stared at them whenever they spoke about omegas. It was pure fear. And this feeling in his chest, it was tightening with each soft sniffle from you, instincts flaring. He’s never felt like this in his life, infact he was convinced he never would. But he just cant stand the sight of you like this— the bloodstained clothes, the fear in every small movement, your vulnerability.
He steps forward without thinking about it, his free arm gently prying you off of him until you fall back against the pillows. “Not leaving you for some random omega, you silly beta.” He scolds, picking you up off the bed until your head rests on his shoulder, sniffling into his shirt.
“Gonna take you where you belong. Gotta tell me if i hurt you, though.” Warmth spreads through him now that he has you against him like this. It clicks something in his brain he didn't know was waiting for a stimulant.
All that leaves your lips are the sobs that keep coming, staining his shirt, but finally settling now the dizziness has settled. “Dont go.. don’t, please, you cant..”
You’re right, he cant keep you around these omegas and all of this. No, he needs you to be healing properly around things you like— you want. He needs to look after his beta.
He grabs your duffel off the chair where it’s left, checking the corridor twice before marching through the quiet corridors towards the barracks.
What happens when you're on a 4-day work trip, out of town?
Well... Let's just say your husband, Nanami Kento misses you so much that he steals your panty from the laundry basket and fucks himself while inhaling your scent.
contents. heavy on the scent kink, pathetic husband, pervert nanami, oral sex(f receiving), praise kink, light bondage, nanami masturbating, aftercare
wc. 4.5k
this is heavily influenced by the fragrantica trend on tiktok ;)
You and Nanami Kento have been married for 3 years now, 2 years dating prior.
It was a rainy morning and it's your routine to have breakfast at your favorite cafe. Luckily for you, it's near your workplace. There was no available table at the time, the others were occupied by pairs or groups of people.
Except one.
You mustered all your courage to ask the man, and if I may add... The man was handsome. Like jaw-dropping, flabbergasting, fucking handsome. His brows were crunched and he's typing on his laptop like his life depends on it.
You walked to the table nervously, "Umm hi, I'm sorry to interrupt you sir. May I sit here?"
He looked up through his glasses, his brows softening just a little. "There are no more available seats and I really want to enjoy the ambiance here in the cafe, hence it is my favorite and I don't really wanna go to my office because it's still earl–"
"Yes. You may sit, ma'am" He interrupted you before you could even finish your sentence.
"Thank you, Mr. ? "
"Kento Nanami"
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Nanami" Then you introduced yourself as well.
And the rest is history..
The first time you made love with each other was in his apartment.
He invited you over for dinner and presented that he'll cook. Which you gladly accepted.
He fixed the two of you some shrimp pasta, steak, mushroom soup, and créme brulee for dessert.
Your stomach was full from all the yummy food he prepared. But tonight… your stomach's not the only one getting full.
As the night went on, the both of you grew hot from the wine he took out of his cellar. A very good, aged, fine wine.
Time-to-time, you catch him looking at your lips when you talk. Tipsy, you say to him, “If you want to kiss me, you can ask y'know” your eyes squinting at him a little.
“May I kiss you then, sweetheart?” He finally asked, taking off his glasses.
You placed your glass of wine on the coffee table and crawled towards him. Pressing your hands on his chest squeezing the plush of his muscles underneath his thin shirt. Looking at him straight in his eyes, dying to kiss him just as much.
His hands found your waist and guided you to sit on his lap. His right hand coming up to cup your face, you leaned in against his touch, earning a ‘Hmm” from him. Then, Nanami's thumb moved to your lips, rubbing his calloused pad against its softness and plumpness.
“You're so gorgeous. I'm so lucky to have you, darling.” He pecked your lips. Then stared at you once more. “All to myself” He grunted, before crashing his equally soft ones to yours.
The first 10 seconds of the kiss was slow and passionate. Quickly escalating, he tilts his head gaining more access to your mouth. “Hmmph!” You moaned as he slipped his tongue inside. Your tongue met his, exchanging spit and some drool slipping out of your mouths.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, your hands playing with his soft, blond hair. Nanami's hands slipped inside your shirt, rubbing your back and waist.
Both of you broke from the kiss, breaths uneven. A strand of saliva connecting your reddened lips.
He picked you up like you weigh nothing, flexing his strong muscles and carried you to his bedroom. Although.. After he laid you on the bed, "Hold on, sweetheart" he said, panting from the heated kiss earlier.
You watched him go to his closet, which is connected to his room. His movements were frantic. He rummaged through his things, as you can hear, because some of his stuff is dropping by how uncareful he's moving, which is unlikely, knowing him.
"Ah hah" he exclaimed. He went out and revealed himself with a scented candle and match on his hand.
Your brows furrowed, confused as to why he's holding those. "Ken, what are those for?" You asked, sitting up on the bed.
After the candle is lit, he removes his button-up shirt and hovers over you, caging you in between his big arms, making your back press on the bed again.
"What else for my love? To set up the mood of course." He proclaimed, crashing his lips into yours once again..
__________________________________________
"Honey, you're gonna be late for your flight. Your things are complete. I checked everything last night." Your husband said hugging you from behind, his chin on your head while you're stressing if you've brought everything that you'll need.
You've never been away from your home in 3 years since marrying. And it's gonna be 4 days, that's why you're kinda frustrated and paranoid you almost packed the whole house in your baggage. Including your husband.
You turned to face him, hugging him tightly. "I am so gonna miss you, love. Like really really really miss you." You mumbled on his chest.
"Oh darling, imagine how I'll feel. I will miss you more than you can comprehend." His hands cupped your face, making you look up at him. He leaned down to your face and kissed you.
The kiss was slow. Like he's so afraid it's gonna end.
You break the kiss and say, "Welp, I think it's time to go." He gave you kisses on your cheeks "Mhmm just a little more" he says in between his smooches, making you giggle.
___________________________________________
He carried all your baggage in his car and drove you to the airport.
You hugged each other tightly one last time before you checked in.
___________________________________________
Day 1
Nanami drove back home with a lump on his chest. He played your playlist in the car. He even shed a tear or two when your favorite song came up. I think he's mixing up you dying and you going on a work trip, by how dramatic he is.
But who's he to blame? You are absolutely amazing. Beyond amazing even. You're everything he has dreamed of, and he wouldn't trade anything in the world for you.
He finally arrived home and looked at his watch. 7:00 am. It is a Tuesday, so he still has to go to work at 8 am.
The thought of him going home tonight, without you, greeting him with your oh so loving tone he loves dearly, is enough to make him crazy.
Before getting ready, he decided to do some laundry first. Going through your basket, he smelled your shirt you wore last night. He took a long sigh. "I'm gonna miss you so much" He said, whispering to himself.
One by one, he put your clothes in the wash, not until... your favorite panty was in his hand. He bit the inside of his cheek. Contemplating whether or not he should put it or not.
After 3 minutes of deep thinking... he set aside your underwear and continued to load the washing machine.
Day 2
Nanami woke up and immediately reached for you. When he felt nothing, his eyes snapped open and got nervous. Then he remembered you were away. He sighed to himself.
He decided to call you.
"Good morning, babyyy" You blabbered through the phone, your voice husky, signifying that you had just woken up as well.
His cock twitched at your voice, making him groan. Which you heard. "What's wrong, Ken? Did something happen?" You asked, voice now concerned.
"Oh n-nothing, my love. Good morning, how was your sleep? " His hand reached for his boxers. Slightly palming his growing bulge.
"Are you sure you're okay?" You asked one more time before answering his question. "Yes, my love. I'm sorry if I made you worry.”
You sighed. "It's alrighttttt. I didn't sleep well last night" You said, pouting your lips.
"Why is that, sweetheart?" He questioned, his tone a little bit teasing.
"Oh you know why! It took me three freaking hours before I actually drifted to slumber land. I wanted you by my side..." Your words drove him mad. His hands, now in his boxers as he gives it a few slow strokes. He bit his lips from pleasure.
"What about you? I bet you slept well without me blasting my phone volume by your side huh?" You said while giggling.
"I think I only slept for two hours" Eyes closed, he tried his best to make his voice normal, not making you suspicious of what he's doing now. At your voice alone.
"Tell me more, darling." He uttered, dropping the phone beside him, and putting it on speaker. He reached for your pillows.
Nanami brought it to his face, the smell of your shampoo and natural scent completely flooding his mind, making him dizzy and even more horny.
You continued to blabber about how everything went yesterday. While he continued to fuck himself with his hand. His responses being short, just a few "Yeah" or "Mhm"
Then, you had to excuse yourself and end the call.
His moans can be heard now. His strokes are becoming faster. He tightens his grip on his cock, coercing him to moan your name. "Ahh yes darling— T-take my cock" His hips thrusting upwards, matching the speed of his hands.
The wet sounds of his dick filling the room, along with his moans and groans. "Mnghh fuuck" He moaned, his head tilting back. His pace became slopier, then came shooting his load on his stomach and hand.
“This is gonna be the longest 4 days of my life” he muttered, staring at the ceiling.
Day 3
The day went on incredibly slow. On Nanami's head at least. The both of you called each other every free time the two of you had.
He got food on the way home as he didn't feel like cooking at all. Now, he's kicking off his shoes and carefully placing them on the shoe rack by the front door.
After working out for an hour in your home gym, he then freshened up.
Now, he's all ready for bed.
As he was passing by the laundry room, he saw a piece of clothing hanging on one of the hooks.
He went inside to put it in a basket or something. His eyes widened upon realizing that it's your underwear.
"Shit" He bit his lip, picking it up from the hook. Unashamed, his hand put it on his face. Inhaling your scent like an animal in heat.
Well he is…
He went to your shared bedroom, took out the vanilla jasmine scented candle from the shelf and lit it, then placed it on his bed side table.
He began to unravel his throbbing— thick, long cock from his underwear. He groaned. His curved dick slapping his toned abs. He wrapped his hand on his tip, smearing precum on his thumb. “Fuck”
The natural aphrodisiac in the jasmine makes him even more riled up. He brought your panties up on his lower face. Inhaling and tasting you all at once.
He pumped his long shaft as he's imagining you. The way your pussy easily gets wet with just his faint touches. The way you clench around him. Your warmth driving him to the edge.
All his thoughts lead to you.
"Shiiit. Oh fuck" He pumps his dick faster. He widens his thick thighs as if you're in between them.
"Yes, darling. Suck me just like that. So fucking— hahh good" Nanami closed his eyes. Head thrown back, his adam's apple bobbing from the constant moaning of your name. He's working his hand so fast that his breathing is ragged.
He put your undies away from his face, still stroking his cock. After five seconds, he inhaled you again.
"Ahhh fuckk– I'm so close, keep going" He muttered through the fabric. The room, now humid because of the scented candle, and him.
fwap fwap fwap "Mnghh y-yeahh" Nanami moaned as he released his warm cum all over himself as he reached his climax.
Still providing himself a few, slow strokes as post orgasm hits him.
"Hah– one more fucking day" He said, before finally getting up and cleaning after his mess.
Day 4
“Love, which one do you like?” you asked, holding a black and blue shirt, through the video call. You woke up early to go shopping for some things to bring home. “I like whichever you think is nice, honey”
“Oh my god. Kennnn just choose” You replied, completely aggravated. He chuckled.
“Okay, okay. I like the blue one”
“Hah! I knew it. Now a matching tie. This one or that one?”
“That one.” he said pointing at the other tie. “Good taste, love.” you said, with a matching wink. His heart skipped a beat and smiled at your playful attitude.
“I'm gonna go shopping for some more souvenirs. I'll talk to you later, baby”
“Okay, sweetheart. Don't buy heavy things, you'll hurt yourself.”
“Yeah yeah, bye now. I love youuu” you bid goodbye, kissing through the camera.
“I love you more. Be very careful, okay?” you simply nodded at his words, and ended the call.
The day went on as per usual for Nanami. Getting ready for work, leaving the house 10 minutes early so he's not late, finishing his paperworks, blah blah blah.
And there goes lunch time.
As he finishes eating, he tries calling your phone but you're not answering. “Must be busy” he said to himself, looking at your profile on his contacts.
But goddamn. The man misses you so fucking much.
Little did you know..
Before leaving the house, he grabbed one of your favorite shirts, then sprayed your favorite perfume on it. Luckily, when he was finally satisfied by how much he sprayed, it ran out. Which you thank him for because he switched the new bottle of perfume and the old one in your baggage.
He took your scented shirt out of his briefcase. Feeling the softness of the fabric on his hands, he brought it closer. His eyes closed as he's smelling it.
He didn't plan to bring your shirt to jerk himself off in his office, no.
Or did he…
Nanami grunted as he could feel his cock grow in his tight pants. He tried to repress it, he really did.
Until he couldn't. “Shit”
He unbuckled his belt and zipped his pants open. He reached for his boxer's waistband and freed himself of misery.
His fat cock already glistening with beads of precum at his red-pink mushroom tip. He made sure that the windows and doors were locked before attending to his business.
Your shirt is still in Nanami's hands, smelling it as he pumps his desperate dick, releasing a quiet groan in response. His moves became faster, squelching sounds echoing in his office.
He wrapped your shirt around his dick. Feeling the friction, his hips thrusted upward. “Mnghh— yesss” he moaned, his pace becoming more vigorously fast.
He bit his hand as he's reaching for his high. Not a minute later, he choked on his saliva as he orgasmed. He whispered your name. All in desperation. His cum, all over your clothes. “It's ruined, I'm gonna buy another one. Apologies, my love.” he mumbled to himself, as he displayed a satisfied grin on his face.
D-day
At last, it's Saturday. You told him to pick you up at the airport around 5:30 pm.
So here he is at the airport. At 4 fucking pm. You scolded him for being too early and that he'll get bored. But he simply replies, “I know, sweetheart. But I don't want to miss even a minute upon your arrival.” you couldn't help but melt at his remarks, and say “Awww baby. I love you so much I'm gonna give you a bunch of hugs and kisses”
“Hugs and kisses only?” he asked, raising a brow.
“Hmm I don't know, depends” you responded, playing along.
Time check: 5pm. Nanami got out of his car, finding a cafe or bakery in the airport. He bought hot coffee for himself, and your favorite drink as well, along with some pastries and breads to eat on the road and bring home.
As you walked out, his back was facing you leaning against one of the airport rails. His phone is on the side of his face, trying to call you. Luck on your side, it died just after the plane landed. You sneaked behind him and put on a beanie, trying to look like a stranger. You bumped into him, then turned to your shoulder for a second and said, “Sorry”. It was a split second but you did catch a glimpse of his brows crunching together. You walked fast. But he's faster. He called your name, shouting just a tiny pitch higher than his normal voice. You couldn't hold it in anymore and burst laughing while opening your arms as you met his long strides.
“I missed you so much, my love” Nanami says as he's now embracing your smaller figure against his warm and big body. Hugging your waist so tightly, but not tight enough to make it hurt. Your arms automatically wrap around his neck, making him crunch lower towards you. You kissed him. He accepted your gesture and exchanged it passionately. Your lips fully in sync, not caring about PDA because you just longed for each other that much.
Pulling away from the kiss, you say, “I missed you too, Ken. I missed you so much”, as you stare at his hypnotizing, beautiful, hazel eyes.
His face lightened with his smile. “Are you ready to go home, sweetheart?” he asked sweetly. “Yuppppp let's gooo”
He took your baggage from you and carried it toward his car, your arm intertwined with his muscly one. He opened the car door for you and kissed you before closing it.
On the way home, an unending smile is plastered on his face. Holding your hand while the other on the wheel, he kisses the back of your hand at least every minute, making your chest flutter at his affection.
As you opened the front door. Nothing could've prepared your sanity on the sight in front of you. There's a "Welcome Home!” banner and a bunch of flowers on the foyer, the house smelling like roses and food he cooked for you. You turned to look at him, eyes teary. “ You didn't have to do this, honey. Coming home to you is more than enough, y'know” He closes the distance between the two of you, your husband’s thumb glides on your face to wipe a tear that escaped.
“Oh honey, this house felt so empty without you. It's just as happy to have you back. Of course we had to welcome you back properly.” you beamed at his sweet words.
___________________________________________
“Oh my goshh! It suits you perfectly!” you exclaimed, putting on the tie you bought for him as he sat on a stool bar, your body in between his legs and Nanami's hands resting on your hips. His eyes boring into yours as you blabber on the other things you bought for him.
And then…
He smashed his lips into yours, making you jolt in surprise. Still, you kissed back. He pulled you closer, his legs caging your frame. “You talk too much sometimes, darling. I wanted to kiss you so bad” he said, letting go of the kiss. His eyes filled with desperation and want.
He stood up from the stool. With swift moves, his arms are under your legs and the other on your back, carrying you bridal style. He makes a beeline to your bedroom. As you entered, your eyes widened.
Oh.
The room was filled with rose petals, slightly dim, the moonlight providing the only source of light. He carefully laid you on the soft mattress. You grabbed the tie you were making him try on earlier, and kissed him. He grunted in your lips, opening his mouth so you can gain access to his tongue. You rolled yours against him, making your husband lose his mind completely.
He breaks the kiss. “Which candle would you like for tonight, my love?” His voice husky and needy. “Vanilla coconut” you responded, biting your lower lip. He smirked as he got up and lit the candle.
Nanami gets on top of you and starts to kiss your neck. “Mgnhh! ” Your head tilts from pleasure, giving him more access to nibble and suck on your exposed skin. He then removed your shirt and bra. Like a magnet, his face came right down on your tits. He sucked them back and forth, giving both equal attention. “Ohh f-fuck!” you yelped as his thumb and index finger pinched on one of your nipples, the other one being licked and sucked by his mouth.
His lips trails kisses down your sternum, and reaches your stomach. He looked up at you waiting for your consent, his fingers on your waistband. After giving your husband a nod, he pulled down your pants leaving you only in your panty. He licked his lips and dove right in. “Mnghhh!! yes ugh— right there, ken!” you cry out. His mouth lapping at your clothed pussy. The fabric, completely soaked from your juices and his spit.
“Hah— I missed you, I missed this so fucking much” he says whilst sucking on your pussy. Unsatisfied with the barrier of your panty, he yanked it down your legs.
“Look at you, all pretty for me. Wanting to be fucked, hmm?” he teased. Your head nodded quickly and he chuckled at your needy gesture.
Nanami kissed your calf, moving up to your thighs, and inner thighs. Finally, his face is in front of your throbbing pussy. He pressed his face against it and took a loooong inhale, your smell engulfing his senses. Driving him mad. “Fuuuuck. You have no idea how much I've been wanting this, darling. Your pussy in my mouth.” He flattened his tongue on your cunt, “Aughhh K-ken, keep going” you moaned as pleasure took over you.
“You taste soooo sweet, my love” he kissed your clit. “Smells so fucking good too” he added as he starts to really eat you out.
Nanami's tongue swiping up-and-down your pulsating cunt. Your head turned to the side, eyes closed, hands gripping the sheets. “Look at me as I eat you, sweetheart. See how good I am licking your sweet juices”
Your eyes snapped open and looked down. His eyes already devouring you, as he feasts his mouth with your pussy. slurp slurp “A-ahh!! R-right there, Ken!” you moaned loudly as he sucked on your sensitive nub.
He inserts two of his long and thick fingers, making you whimper and your hips jolt upward. He curled his digits inside as he continued to work on your clit. “Mgnhhh— I'm close. Ahh!” You're a moaning mess.
He pumps his fingers faster and deeper, chasing your climax. “Oh f-fuckk!” you yelped as you orgasmed, eyes rolling back. His tongue licks up every single drop of your juices. He hums in satisfaction.
He hovers over you and says “Open your mouth” which you obeyed. You opened your mouth, tongue sticking out. He spits on it making you taste yourself, then he proceeds to catch your lips, kissing you hard and greedy. You tugged at his shirt. Nanami took off his tie.
Then… he held both of your wrists above your head tying them up. You looked at him doe-eyed. He grins at your reaction. “Be a good girl now, hmm? Tell me you want me, sweetheart. Tell me how much your pussy wants to be filled up by my cum”
“P-please kennn. Need your cock in me soooo bad—*hic* fill me up. Please” You begged. He can't help but to admire you right now. Your tied wrists, perked tits, your legs wide open, and your cunt glistening in wetness.
“You look so beautiful like this, my love. So perfect for me.” he praises as he removes his shirt and pants, leaving him naked.
The sight of his thick, long, and veiny cock making your mouth and pussy water. “You got bigger, love” you say, eyes slightly widened.
“Well, you weren't here to take care of me for four days,” he replied. He rubs his tip at your entrance making the both of you moan. “Relax, darling. You're squeezing me too hard.” he said as he inserts himself
“Fuck! You're t-too big— ahh!!” he slid all the way inside. “Mnghh shhh. I know, darling” he said, kissing your forehead.
Nanami's hands grabbed the back of your thigh, folding you in half, putting you in a mean mating press. His weight crashing you down. Then he begins pounding into you making you arch your back. He groaned at how your pussy is deliciously wrapping around him. His face scrunches as he thrusts in you. “Mnghhhh feels soooo good” You lolled as he fucks you with all his might.
“F-feel how deep I am, darling? You're taking me so good”
“I want to– ahh! touch you, love. Pleaseee” You plead. He smiles at you and quickly removes the tie on your wrists. Your now freed hands reached his back, digging your nails through his skin, making him groan from the sensation.
“M-moreeee!! Fuck me faster—Ahh!!” Taking your words, he did fucked you faster. And deeper. His pace becomes inhuman as the best creaks from every thrust he makes. Your moans in harmony.
“Yeah? Mnghh— you like that, my love? You like it when I fuck you like this?”
“Y-yes!! Oh my god, I'm gonna cum!” you say as your mouth shapes into a silent O, your brown knitted together, as you orgasmed. “A-ahh, I'm close too” he said, his pace becoming sloppy.
“Fill me up, Ken. Want your cum in m-me” your voice trembling and legs shaking, as you begin to feel overstimulated. His cock forming a ring at the bottom from your juices.
A few more thwap thwap thwap, and “O-ohh fuuuck!!” Nanami tilted his head back and his cum painted your walls white.
The feeling of his warm and thick cum making you orgasm again. You bit your lower lip from how good it feels. His moves came to a halt, releasing your legs, his cock still inside of you.
The candle he lit earlier, covering the room in its sweet and calming scent, along with the smell of sweat, musk, your mixed perfumes, and the linens underneath you. All this makes Nanami's and your head hazy.
He presses his forehead against yours, his eyes closed. Then he pecked your cheeks, your forehead, and finally your lips. “I love you so much, sweetheart. Don't you ever agree to another work trip.” You laugh coarsely, your throat sore from all the moaning.
He took his cock out with a sounding pop! your pussy lips smacking together again from the fullness earlier. Your husband went to the bathroom and came back with a damp and dry towel in both of his hands. He reached down to you and cleaned up all the dried and wet fluids on your skin. He goes back to put them in a laundry basket.
“Are you hungry, sweetheart? I can fix you some pasta I cooked earlie–” His words were taken aback as he sees you, eyes closed and in deep sleep. He smiled at your vulnerable state and covered you in a blanket as he got to bed as well. Your husband kisses your forehead one last and then he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.
_________________________________________
Inspired by the fragrantica trend on tiktok. It got me feeling things, okayy???😫
꒰ ̮͈ ̞ ̮͈𖩩꙼꒱┊experimenting on your husband nanami !
nanami kento is a very patient man, it's one of the things that drew you to him to begin with. he handled very frustrating clients with grace, he handled bad drivers and busy streets with ease, he carried immense amounts of stress from work and never took it home with him. you have absolute faith that he would be an incredible father to your future children because if there was one thing about nanami it was that he never, ever gets angry.
and while, yes, you loved it about him, sometimes you find yourself curious. you secretly wish to see what he's like when he loses his temper, you wish to see how far his patience can go. you can never fully commit to pushing his buttons, though. at times, you will try to act demanding and bossy and he will give you that soft look that melts your heart as he does everything you ask and you lose the strength to keep going entirely.
until today. today you told yourself you would find out no matter what.
ATTEMPT NUMBER ONE
it started in the morning. you woke up early to pack a lunch for him to take to work. this wasn't the first time you had done a nice gesture for him like this, but it warmed nanami's heart all the same. little did he know is that this box of lunch that was definitely for work included an image that was definitely not safe for work of you in his favorite set of lingerie. you imagined him being all worked up the whole day and very frustrated when he came home. it was perfect.
at around noon you receive a text:
"Sweetheart?"
"yes my love"
"Did you mean to put this photo of yourself in my lunch?"
"yes i did, ken. why, don't like it? :("
"I love it. You look beautiful. I can't wait to see you tonight"
you sigh at the screen. while you love his compliments, his patience had won once again. you knew you had to do more.
ATTEMPT NUMBER TWO
you decide that perhaps one picture just wasn't enough to get to him. you put on the same set of lingerie and fix your makeup up a bit and you look at your expansive collection of products that were all bought by him, and your resolve begins to falter. you then think about how hot interesting the results would be, and you're fully motivated once again. it's for the sake of science, after all.
you send him several more pictures of yourself in the same set in very compromising poses and he responds almost instantaneously.
"Sweetheart, you know I think you look gorgeous, but please save the pictures for when I'm home. Somebody could've seen."
"and? isn't that kind of exciting?"
"I'd rather not have any other men see you in that way, if possible."
"aw you're no fun."
and he left you on seen. seen. you couldn't tell whether you should feel afraid or accomplished. either way, it was very exciting, too exciting to stop now.
ATTEMPT NUMBER THREE
the sun was beginning to set and you still had no response from your husband. you knew he would be home soon and decided to pin the final nail into the coffin. you wrack your brain on what to do and look around the room for ideas. you see the very big and elaborate bouquet of flowers your sister had sent you a few hours prior as a belated birthday gift and had the perfect idea.
you sent nanami a picture of the bouquet with a message thanking him for the flowers.
"My love, I didn't have any flowers sent to you today"
you giggled as you feign confusion in your messages and then send him a picture of a fabricated note that says "from your secret admirer." he takes a few minutes longer to respond than usual.
"Do you really think I don't recognize your handwriting? We'll talk about this little game you're playing when I'm home."
bingo.
RESULTS
as soon as nanami entered the house you ran to greet him cheerfully as if nothing had happened. you hugged him tightly and surprisingly he immediately hugged back and melted into you the same way he always does. his face was buried into your neck and you began to accept that your experiment had failed and that you unfortunately married the best man who ever lived, even though you already knew that.
there's a moment of silence until nanami speaks his first words since he returned home. he says your name, barely above a whisper, into your neck. his voice was dark and unfeeling in a way you've never heard before. his hand rises to stroke the back of your hair before he grips it, tight. "first, you leave that photo of yourself in my lunch. then, as i finally begin to bring my focus from the picture and back to my work, you send more. then, when i express my concern for other men seeing you in a way that only i should, you say that i am "no fun." and then, since you're committed to pushing my buttons today, you try to trick me into thinking another man had sent you flowers." you try to hide your excitement as best you can and muster up a very unconvincing "i'm sorry?"
he doesn't respond. instead, he's dragging you to your knees by your hair and pressing your face up close to the very prominent bulge in his pants. "i have been hard for the past five. hours." he says that last part with a new venom in his voice and despite knowing it wasn't the best idea, you couldn't help the little look of accomplishment that grew on your face. "oh you think this is funny, do you?"
nanami pulls himself free from his pants and your eyes widen. he got even bigger, somehow. he was large, throbbing, and the sight alone was overwhelming. you open your mouth to try to defend yourself but nanami seized the opportunity and shoved himself into your mouth. he used his grip on your hair to push your head down until your nose made contact with the slight trail of hair leading upwards. he groans a very sexy sound before he begins thrusting into your mouth at a relentless pace. "i'm no fun, huh? i'm no- haah- fucking fun?"
through your tears, and your very occupied mouth, you try to let out any sounds of apologies you could, but nanami showed no mercy. "no, baby. sorry isn't going to cut it this time. play stupid games, win stupid prizes. i'm going to make sure you learn how to behave, and when we're done you're not to do this again, understood?"
you frantically nod your head, but as your thighs clench and you feel yourself already soaking, you know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you were absolutely going to do this again.
i mean, it's for science.
i hope u guys liked this one.. im not very sure about the idea </3 i'm sorry it's cut short, i haven't tried writing sex scenes yet but i hope you still enjoyed ! if you'd like me to try to write a part 2 please do let me know, but i apologize if it's underwhelming TT as always, kind criticism is always welcome :3
this is not canon to the main timeline. Purely an AU.
What if Bruce wasn't fast enough that night?
Recommended listening: Futile devices/ Metamorphosis / Needle in the hay / Death with dignity
Fic masterlist!
cw: Reader is dead, grief, mentions of addiction, mentions of underage drinking, depressive thoughts,no one is happy bruh. - I DO NOT CONDONE OR SUPPORT ANY UNDERAGE DRINKING OR SMOKING, stay safe stay in school
“I didn’t say goodbye… I always say goodbye… why- why didn’t I say it? I wanted to.” your grip on his arm gets weaker. “I know I’m a bad person… but I don’t... don’t want to die” it gets harder and harder to breathe, “I haven’t done anything with my life. I thought I had time-” pain like you’ve never known shoots up and down your body. You convulse in his arms. Unintelligible sobs fight their way out of your mouth. You nearly choke on them. “I don’t wanna die alone…” your throat tightens up. There is nothing you can do. Your begging doesn’t change anything.
It isn’t painful. There are no fangs in your skin, or daggers in your back. It feels like an apathetic wind. The kind you’d feel when September bleeds into October, and the leaves wither away. Before you know what's happening, the memory brings itself forward.
You’re seven. It was your first day back to school, and now you’re walking home. The street is alive with community. Neighbours chattering on their front steps, shop keepers nattering with customers. The wind bites your cheeks, so you pull your scarf up. You were so small back then. When you open the door, Mother is there. You can’t remember the conversation, but you remember her making you your favourite dinner, and letting you watch whatever you wanted on TV. That was one of her good days.
The wind picks up again, brushing against your finger tips and dragging a second memory forward. Ten. Your birthday. A wobbly table set for ten. Two friends showed up. The rest couldn’t make it. So they said. The birthday candles flicker as the wind from outside creeps through the window. When they’ve finished singing, you blow out the candles. What did you wish for again? It was either a puppy or a dad.
Third. Thirteen. You don’t want to remember this one. The fight. The yelling, the screaming, the crying. She’s outside your door, screaming at you to get back out there. You’re begging her to leave you alone. She laughs. She says that no one else would ever let you talk to them the way you talk to her. No one else would ever be as patient with you. No one would ever look after you the way she did. No one would love you more than her.
“You can hate me all you want. I’m the only person who will ever love you unconditionally. From the moment you were born I put everything on hold for you. No one else would do that.”
“I never asked you to do that!” you shout back.
“You are so ungrateful- do you know how many kids out there would kill to have what you have? I give you a roof over your head, I give you food, I buy you clothes and school shit- whatever you need, I get it. I take my pay-check, and I give it all to you. But I guess that makes me the worst mother in the world. I’m the worst mother ever aren’t I? I bet you wish I was anyone else.”
“I never said that!”
“I know you think it.”
And you didn’t respond. Last time you ever heard her voice.
Fourth. sixteen. New years. You’re alone in the Wayne Manor Garden. In the heart of the maze with your hand wrapped around a bottle neck. While the fireworks leap into the sky and explode tremendously, you’re starting the year as you mean to go on. Drunk, right under your Father’s nose. The wind rustles the hedge and the sound of the leaves gets drowned out by the screaming pyrotechnics. Waiting for someone to search for you. Take a look out the window and see you in the ocean of leaves. The search party never comes. You woke up on the dirt ground the next morning.
Lastly, Nineteen. Crying your eyes out in bed. Two weeks ago. Feeling so incredibly low that you think you’ll never get up. You aren’t quiet. You want someone to hear. Someone, please. Just open the door and come in. Please. Just hold you and lie that everything’s okay. Find the empty bottles under the bed. Smell the smoke trapped on your clothes. Notice that you haven’t opened the curtains in a month. Anything. God please anything. The en-suite window is ajar, and the wind soothes in, brushing against your shaking body. Like a blanket.
But then the images fade. You watch them melt away until there’s nothing left. Like snow in the rain.
Bruce watches your eyes glaze over. The light within them, the light that faltered but never went out, ebbs away. Your jaw goes slack. He roars. It’s incomprehensible, just a raw, guttural noise. His calloused hands keep trying to lift your head up, but it lulls and rolls limply. You feel so small. Like a doll in the hands of a bear.
You were his biggest mistake. Not your existence, no he could never fault you for that. Your downfall was all his fault. For years he passively watched you destroy yourself. He saw his reflection looking back at him, and instead of building you back up he left you. In his mind, if he left, you couldn’t get any more broken. But that didn’t fix you either. No. No, stop being so noble. He didn’t face you because he was a coward. He would have to acknowledge that he did this to you.
“I haven’t got school today,” you were hoping he’d catch your drift so you wouldn’t have to keep speaking, but the way he cocked his brow told you that wasn’t going to happen, “so I was wondering if we could… I don’t know, uh, maybe spend some time together? I just, I feel like I don’t know you. At all. And I want to. I want to know you. And- And I want you to know me, I know you’re busy but I just think that-”
He raised his hand to stop you. All the courage you thought you had died instantly.
“I’m afraid I can’t.” There had to be more. Surely. That couldn’t just be it, right? When he went back to whatever it was you interrupted, your heart sank.
Dick feels his feet turn to stone. The little girl who used to tail him like a lost puppy, the one who would always be the first to reach out, that girl who used to look at him like he was made of gold and stardust, was gone. Eyes glass and supposedly unseeing, but he felt as though you were looking right into his soul. Last time he saw you, you were avoiding eye contact
“But it’s not right now, is it? It’s all the time.” Dick counters. He didn’t take any joy in this, but he couldn’t ignore what he’d seen. “She’s piss-drunk at eleven in the morning, that's not normal. Please tell me that’s not normal. For God’s sake she looked half dead when I walked in! She couldn’t string two words together! I’m shocked she managed to walk in a straight line!”
Now you wouldn’t look away. It took him back to that fateful day. The first domino that led to this.
When you looked up and faced him, it was like watching a horror movie. Your eyes were wider than the moon and blood trickled down to your chin. He shouted for Alfred and Bruce, whichever came first. Over and over again, you tried to say sorry, but he shushed you and pleaded with you to keep your mouth closed, not wanting any more blood to spill.
The red stained your shirt, blooming out with fervour, and unstoppable force. Out of instinct, he tried to put pressure on the wound. It does no good. When his hands reel back, he can’t tear his eyes off the blood caked on them.
Jason doesn’t think. He just does. He marches over to the crumpled form of the shooter and before anyone can say anything, he unloads the clip into his back. Each bullet a lightning strike, sending a deafening wave through the air. It doesn’t change anything. But it evens the score. No. No, not really. This guy was a worthless piece of shit, the bottom rung in a corrupt ladder, and you were you. You were that kid who dreamt of escaping Gotham. Who wanted to make new friends, but never seemed to get it. It would take thousands of them dead to even the score. Men like him were a dime a dozen. Cowards whose morals could be bought and sold. But people like you, people who still tried even when all the chips were down, those were hard to find.
“I think… he’s… ashamed… of me.” you admitted, pausing to hiccup or take a breath. “And… I kinda… I like, I see why. Cus… he’s right. I’m a screwup.”
Red Hood kept his hand on your shoulder, guiding you along with a grip that felt strong but not overwhelming. “Says who? You’re gonna let them decide what you are?”.
Bruce’s head snaps up. He wants to shout, but he can’t open his mouth. Jason storms out of the alley, when he passes Bruce a hollow voice trails out from his mask like smoke on the wind. “This isn’t finished. We’re going to talk.” His promise lingers after he leaves.
He drifts into the night with a gun and a mission.
Tim had this nightmare before. One where you did something stupid and killed yourself. Sometimes you fall down the stairs drunk, or you’re face down in a body of water. Whatever the path, you’re dead.
So this must be a dream. He’s asleep. He’ll wake up and everything will be fine. You’ll be asleep too. He’ll knock on your door and open without waiting for an answer. He’ll bug you till you wake up. There’ll be a pulse under your skin and breath in your lungs. The breakfast table will be alive with noise. You’ll pester Damian about something silly. Forks scrape against plates, coffee gets slurped, glasses clink against each other.
That limp body isn’t yours. It’s just his mind. His worst fears manifest. Just an image made to torture him. No, it's not you. You’re alive and well. Maybe not well, but alive. The smell of blood and gunpowder grounds him against his will, dragging him into reality. An anchor bringing him down to the darkest part of the ocean.
He shoulders past Dick, pushing the eldest to the side. He wants to do the same to Bruce, but his grip on you is too tight. He doesn’t want to hurt you.
Everything about you is wrong. Your eyes are way too wide, pupils blown wide open. The pupils are like space, dark, vast and unfeeling. Those eyes used to crinkle at the corners when you laughed over a bad joke, or when you teased him over something trivial. Never maliciously though, no you were better than that. He wanted those eyes to blink, to shift, to do anything but stare ahead.
Your mouth hung open, the same way your bedroom door was always slightly ajar. An unspoken open invitation. An SOS message. Say something. Please. Shout, scream, whatever you want.
When you were in the room, it was never quiet for long. You could pull a laugh out of him with no effort. Or ramble about some online drama he had never heard of. It wasn’t just you talking at him though, you always pulled him into the conversations. It was a gift, truly, you could make anyone feel seen and heard, no matter how trivial the conversation was.
Just say anything. Blame him, hate him, please.
His hands tremble when he reaches for you. Bruce’s eyes snap up, and his grip on you tightens.
Without thinking, Tim spits out “What the hell is wrong with you?” His voice is sharp. “You never held her before, not once. Get off her.”
Tim’s normally better than this. More composed. But now everything is upside down and inside out. The blood pouring out of you should be inside. It should be pumping through your veins and keeping you here. Not leaking out onto the filthy ground.
“That's my sister.” He growls, and it apparently gets through to Bruce. His grip loosens but doesn’t vanish. Tim kneels to Bruce’s level, and holds you. This wasn’t the first time.
You pushed his door open slowly and crept in. He didn’t look up. Without talking, you sat on the floor next to his bed. Your front faced the door, and your back was in front of him. The memory is cloudy now, you don’t know if he asked you to stay, or if you offered, but you remember waking up on the floor with your head on a cushion and a comforter draped over your body.
It got a little easier after that. You checked in on him every couple days. Small talk was awkward but you still tried. Eventually, with enough persistence, you managed to get through to him. You met him where he was at. It wasn’t instant, it took time, but you got close enough to confide in him. About your fears, your dreams, your Mother.
But it hits him then that this is the last time. He wishes he was still in denial, to believe that you were going to miraculously leap up and everything would be okay.
You are dead.
Gone.
Your last words played in his head over and over again. When did you ever get what you wanted? All you asked for was a home, and you had been given a guest room and a one way ticket to your demise. Resentment simmered in his chest, bubbling against his ribs. It felt boiling.
While Tim was mentally spiralling, Damian could only stand there and watch. His feet wouldn’t move. He had seen death before. People had died by his hand. Blood wasn’t a stranger to him. But everything felt new now.
He felt small.
You always made him feel small. Just by breathing. When he found out that he wasn’t the sole heir, and that his competition was a drunk with nothing to show for herself, he felt confident that he could get you out of the way. But whenever he was around you. he was furious, because it made him feel so small. Despite not having anything going for yourself, you had a warmth and charm he didn’t.
Now, watching the chaotic scene unfold, he had never felt smaller.
This was his fault. He had written your death warrant and performed it for an audience. He wrote that school presentation for Father, to prove that he was superior. To compare and contrast the two of you. He felt he had to prove his superiority.
In the storm of discord, he remained still. Dick hovered next to him after being muscled aside by Tim. The eldest kept his hand on the youngest with a terror fueled grip. A tether, a wordless promise that he wouldn’t let Damian go into the storm.
The night felt never ending. The hospital lights stung, unnaturally bright. They stayed in the waiting room. In their own little bubble in the corner of the room. No one spoke. The air was pregnant with dread.
In a few seconds, someone would come out and confirm what they all knew to be true. It was just about waiting.
“The Trust is doing well.” Tim spoke out to the air. It was a bright day, the kind you would’ve liked. Your headstone was recently polished. Must’ve been Alfred again.
“Another clinic’s set to open next month. Near Birch street.” He fiddled with the petals of the flowers he had bought you. “I, you’ll find this funny, I forgot my words in the middle of the meeting- the one ironing out the opening ceremony details, so I just gave them a bunch of corporate buzzword slop. Ate it up.” His laugh is forced and gravelly.
He notices the packet of cigarettes left on the top of your tombstone. Someone kept leaving them no matter how many times they threw them out. It felt gross. Like a cruel joke. He pocketed the packet, still sealed, and made a mental note to bin them as soon as he could.
“Damian’s got his med school entrance exams soon. Give him some good luck, yeah? He’s too proud to ask.” It never got less awkward. It had been three years now, but it still felt stiff. “I haven’t spoken to him in a while, but I'm sure he’d appreciate it.”
In the last three years, the family drifted apart. Bruce was slowly driving himself to an early grave, working even harder as Batman. He nailed the trafficking ring shortly after you were taken. But it didn’t ease the hole in him.
Dick came home more often. Touching base with the others incessantly. It never felt authentic. His guilt and fear was so obvious they could smell it. No one pointed it out, or spoke up about it. It was easier that way.
When he thought no one could see him, he’d dip into your room. Just to sit there. He wouldn’t touch anything, he didn’t dare to. It was a museum to him. Front row seats to an exhibition of the life he never saw. The bottles under the bed. The diary left on the desk. He never opened it. Too afraid of finding his own name in there.
Jason doubled down. Not speaking to the others unless absolutely necessary. He came to the funeral at least. Small turnout. A couple of people no one recognised came. Said they were your friends from college. It took everything in him not to lose his cool and lash out at them. What right did they have to saunter in when they were nowhere to be seen when you needed them? His anger was evident in his guarded posture.
“I thought I’d be better at this by now.” He admits. “People keep saying ‘time heals wounds’ but it's not true. I’m not healed. Maybe the wound’s closed over but it’s not healed. It’s like a scar.”
“I keep thinking you’re gonna come back.”
There was a fight the night after … the incident. About the lazarus pit. The idea of bringing you back came up. Tim, driven by grief and desperation, was adamant that it would be okay. He could rehabilitate you, he wouldn’t let you become something you didn’t recognise. Damian was on his side. The two never saw eye to eye. But you changed them. The other three were vehemently against it.
The fight lasted three hours. It got physical at one point. In the end, you stayed dead. It was kinder that way.
“Sometimes I come back to the Manor, and when I pass your room I think about knocking. Out of habit, y’know? I go to ask if you’re okay in there, and it just hits me. It doesn’t feel like you’re here”. He runs his hand over the stone to make his point. The body under the dirt didn’t feel like yours. The coffin six feet under never felt full. But it was.
His watch beeped once and he sighed. “I gotta run.” he reluctantly lets go of the flowers and lets them fall onto the ones from yesterday. He isn’t sure who left them, his guess is Alfred. He always came to clean your stone. There was a period of time where he couldn’t bring himself to confront your grave. But now cleaning the stone had become one of his morning rituals. Often bringing small offerings for you.
Y/N Wayne. Beloved sister and daughter.
He always hated that carving. It kept you tied to them, like a branding. You were more than just a sister or daughter. You had dreams, passions. But to the world, you'd only ever be Bruce Wayne's personal failure.
“Goodbye, I love you.”
How are we feeling guys?
So, life has been hectic as hell for me atm. Moved in to the new place, only to have no wifi (wifi order delayed), have a HUGE leak two days ago RIGHT OUTSIDE MY ROOM AT 3 IN THE MORNING- fix the leak myself bcs landlord is away on holiday, and then make the commute back to my hometown to visit family. BUT WE'RE BACK WITH WIFI.
I got a little emotional toward the end bcs I haven't seen my sister in two years and I'm seeing her in 2 days. She moved halfway across the world and I couldn't afford to fly out and visit her, so i was in my 'little sister missing big sister and forcing everyone to suffer' mindset.
hi pretty! how u doing? could i request a jason t x reader where they have a girl born in secret and only when the baby is born that jason tells the batfam, either through just a picture or telling them to hush over the hospital just to see a baby??
The Secret
navigation , dc navigation
requests are open
dividers by @cafekitsune
The family group chat had been quiet for exactly four hours—a record, honestly—when Jason's message came through.
It was a photo. Just a photo, no context, no explanation.
A tiny baby, wrapped in a pink hospital blanket, sleeping peacefully. Dark hair, scrunched up little face, impossibly small.
The chat exploded.
DICK: IS THAT A BABY
DICK: JASON IS THAT A BABY
TIM: Why are you sending us random baby pictures
STEPH: Okay but that's a REALLY cute baby
DICK: JASON ANSWER YOUR PHONE
DUKE: Did you kidnap a baby???
DAMIAN: Todd, explain yourself immediately.
TIM: Why is no one else concerned that Jason just sent us a photo of a random infant
DICK: JASON PETER TODD
Jason's response came five minutes later, while Dick was probably having a minor breakdown:
JASON: Her name is Catherine. She's mine. Come to Gotham General if you want to meet her.
Then he went offline.
The chaos that followed was legendary.
Dick was the first to arrive at the hospital, having broken approximately fifteen traffic laws to get there. Tim was right behind him, looking like he'd run the entire way (he'd grappled; his car was in the shop). Steph and Cass arrived together. Duke had called Bruce, who was currently in the Batmobile with Damian, both of them looking equally shell-shocked.
They found Jason's room number from a nurse who looked deeply amused by the sudden influx of Waynes, and Dick didn't even knock before bursting in.
"JASON PETER—"
"Shhh!" You hissed from the hospital bed, and Dick stopped dead.
Because there you were, looking exhausted and beautiful and very much holding a newborn baby. And there was Jason, sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand on your shoulder, looking at Dick like he might actually murder him for being loud.
"She's sleeping," Jason said quietly, voice hard. "You wake her up, you leave."
Dick's mouth opened and closed several times. Tim pushed past him, staring.
"You have a baby," Tim said, like he was testing the words. "You—Jason—you have an actual human baby."
"Yeah, Tim. That's generally what happens when—"
"When were you going to TELL US?!" Dick's voice rose again, and the baby—Catherine—stirred slightly. Jason's glare could have melted steel.
"I'm telling you now."
"The baby is already BORN, Jason! That's not telling us, that's INFORMING us after the fact!"
"Can we not do this here?" You said tiredly, adjusting the baby in your arms. "I just gave birth. I'm exhausted. Can the family drama wait?"
That seemed to remind everyone that you existed. Dick immediately looked guilty.
"Sorry. Sorry. I'm Dick. We—I guess we haven't met?" He looked at Jason accusingly. "Because SOMEONE didn't tell us he had a girlfriend."
"Wife," Jason corrected, and held up his left hand where a simple gold band sat.
The room went dead silent.
"WIFE?!" Dick's voice cracked.
"Oh my god," Steph breathed. "Oh my god, Jason secret married someone AND had a baby and didn't tell anyone?"
"I'm telling you now," Jason repeated, maddeningly calm.
"THE BABY IS ALREADY BORN—"
"Dick, you're going to give yourself an aneurysm," Tim said, though he looked pretty close to one himself. "Jason. Buddy. When did you get married?"
"Eight months ago."
"EIGHT—" Dick caught himself, lowered his voice. "Eight months. You've been married for eight months."
"Technically nine, but who's counting."
"I'M COUNTING! I'M VERY MUCH COUNTING!"
Cass had moved closer to the bed, studying the baby with soft eyes. "She's beautiful," she said quietly. "Congratulations."
"Thank you," you said, relieved that at least one person was being normal about this. "Would you like to hold her?"
Cass nodded, and you carefully transferred the tiny bundle into her arms. She held Catherine like she was made of glass, a small smile on her face.
"I can't believe you kept this secret," Tim was saying. "For nine months. How did we not notice?"
"Because I didn't want you to notice." Jason's hand found yours, fingers intertwining. "We wanted to do this privately. Without the whole family hovering and interfering and making it about the mission."
"But we're your family," Dick said, and he sounded hurt now rather than angry. "We should have been there for you. For both of you."
"You're here now," you said gently. "That's what matters."
The door opened again, and Bruce walked in with Damian. Both of them stopped, taking in the scene—Cass holding a baby, you in the hospital bed, Jason looking defiant and protective.
"Jason," Bruce said carefully. "Is that—"
"My daughter. Catherine. She was born this morning at 6:47 AM. Seven pounds, three ounces. Healthy." Jason stood up, moving to stand between his family and the bed like a guard. "And before you start, yes, I'm married. No, you didn't know. Yes, I kept it secret on purpose. Any questions?"
Bruce looked at you, then at the baby in Cass's arms, then back at Jason. Something complicated crossed his face—hurt, maybe, but also understanding.
"Congratulations," he said finally. "To both of you."
"That's it?" Damian said incredulously. "He keeps a wife and child secret for months and you're just—congratulating him?"
"What would you have me do?"
"I don't know, express some concern that Todd hid something this significant? Demand an explanation?"
"I think," Bruce said quietly, watching Jason, "that he had his reasons. And that pushing will only make him more defensive."
Jason's shoulders relaxed slightly.
"Her name is Catherine?" Bruce asked. "After—"
"After my mother. Yeah." Jason's voice was rough. "We—it felt right."
Bruce's expression softened completely. "It's a beautiful name."
Dick had moved closer now, looking at the baby in Cass's arms with wonder. "Can I—can I hold her?"
Jason looked at you. You nodded.
"Wash your hands first," Jason said. "And support her head. And be gentle—"
"I know how to hold a baby, Little Wing."
"This isn't just a baby. This is my baby."
Despite the tension, you smiled. Jason had been like this with the nurses too—hypervigilant, protective, determined to ensure everyone who touched Catherine did it correctly.
Dick held her like she was the most precious thing in the world, which, to be fair, she kind of was. His eyes got suspiciously shiny.
"Hi Catherine," he whispered. "I'm your Uncle Dick. And I'm going to spoil you so much. I'm going to be the favorite uncle."
"You're going to have competition," Tim said, moving closer. "I'm bringing educational toys."
"I'm bringing weapons," Damian announced.
"You're not bringing our daughter weapons," Jason said flatly.
"She should learn self-defense early—"
"She's six hours old!"
Watching them, Bruce moved to your bedside. "How are you feeling?"
"Tired. Sore. Happy." You glanced at Jason, who was now arguing with Damian about appropriate gifts for infants. "A little overwhelmed by the sudden family invasion."
"I apologize for that. We're... enthusiastic." Bruce's lips quirked. "And Jason's right to have kept this private, even if it hurt some feelings. This is your family. You deserve to have it on your terms."
"Thank you." You hesitated. "I know he gave you all a shock. He wanted to tell you sooner, but—"
"He was protecting you. Protecting her." Bruce glanced at the baby, now being carefully transferred from Dick to Tim. "I understand. I might not like it, but I understand."
Steph had pulled up a chair next to your bed. "Okay, so I need details. How did you two meet? How long have you been together? How did he propose? I need all the information Jason definitely won't give us."
You laughed. "We met at a bookstore. I was reaching for a book and he was reaching for the same one. Very cliché."
"Jason reads?" Duke looked skeptical.
"Jason reads constantly," you corrected. "He proposed three months after we started dating. It was pouring rain, we were walking home, and he just—asked. No ring, no plan, just 'marry me.'"
"And you said yes to that?" Steph asked.
"I said yes to him." You watched Jason, who was now showing Tim the correct way to support Catherine's head. "He's different than you probably see. Softer. More open. He didn't want to tell you because he was afraid of—"
"Of us ruining it," Dick finished quietly. "Of making it about the mission or Bruce or the family drama."
"He wanted something that was just his," you confirmed. "Just ours. And I understood that."
"But you're telling us now," Bruce observed.
"Because she's here. Because she's real. And because—" You smiled as Jason brought Catherine back to you. "—because she's going to be part of this family whether we planned it or not. Might as well make it official."
Jason settled on the bed beside you, and you leaned into him, exhausted and content. Catherine made a small noise, and both of you immediately focused on her, checking, adjusting, making sure she was okay.
"They're going to be so overprotective," Tim said to Dick.
"They're going to be nightmares," Dick agreed. "It's going to be amazing."
The first few weeks were chaos.
Not just the normal chaos of new parents learning to care for an infant, though there was plenty of that. But also the chaos of integrating a secret family into the existing Batfamily structure.
"I'm just saying," Dick said, holding Catherine while you tried to eat something, "you could have invited us to the wedding."
"It was at city hall. Three witnesses. Very small."
"I could have been a witness!"
"You would have cried."
"I—okay, yes, I would have cried. But that's beside the point!"
Jason took Catherine from Dick, checking her over like he hadn't just been holding her five minutes ago. "The point is we wanted it private. Can you let it go?"
"Never. I'm going to bring this up for years." But Dick was smiling. "She's beautiful though. Really. You guys did good."
You'd moved into Jason's safehouse—bigger than his apartment, more secure, better for a baby. The family had immediately tried to get you to move to the manor.
"We have space," Bruce had said. "Alfred could help. You wouldn't be alone—"
"That's exactly why we're not moving in," Jason had replied. "We need space. Boundaries. Time to figure this out ourselves."
But they visited. God, did they visit.
Dick came every other day, bringing gifts and volunteering to babysit. Tim brought books about infant development. Steph brought clothes. Duke brought a security system that was definitely overkill for a two-month-old. Damian brought a knife ("She needs to learn proper blade grip early") that Jason immediately confiscated.
Even Bruce visited, usually in the evening, sitting quietly and holding Catherine with a gentleness that made your chest ache.
"I wish I'd done more of this," he admitted one night, Catherine asleep against his chest. "With all of you. I was so focused on the mission, on keeping you safe, that I forgot to just... be present."
"You're present now," Jason said quietly. "That counts."
Alfred came weekly, bringing food and wisdom and an endless supply of patience for Jason's paranoid safety protocols.
"Master Jason, the baby does not need a panic room."
"She might."
"She is two months old."
"Dangers don't care about age, Alfred."
But the biggest adjustment was Gotham itself.
Because word had gotten out—not about Catherine specifically, but about Red Hood having a family. And that made you a target.
The first threat came when Catherine was six weeks old.
Jason found the note on the safehouse door: Nice family you have. Would be a shame if something happened to them.
You found him in the nursery at 2 AM, standing over Catherine's crib, guns out, looking ready to burn Gotham down.
"Jason," you said softly.
"I should kill them." His voice was flat. "Everyone who even thinks about touching her. I should end them before they become a problem."
"That's not who you are anymore."
"Maybe it should be. Maybe I've been too soft, too comfortable. Maybe I need to remind Gotham what happens when people threaten what's mine."
You moved to stand beside him, looking down at your sleeping daughter. "You know what I think? I think you're scared. And that's okay. I'm scared too. But we can't protect her by becoming the thing we're trying to protect her from."
"I can't lose her. I can't—" His voice cracked. "She's perfect. She's innocent. She deserves better than this city, this life, this constant threat—"
"She deserves you. Both of us. Loving her, protecting her, but also letting her live." You took his hand. "We'll keep her safe. Together. But we can't do it by locking her away or eliminating every possible threat. That's not living."
Jason pulled you both close—you and the crib, as if he could shield you from the world by sheer force of will.
"I've never been this scared," he admitted. "Even dying wasn't this scary. Because this—losing her—that would actually destroy me."
"Then we make sure it doesn't happen. We're careful. We're smart. We use all these overprotective family members who keep showing up. But we don't let fear control us."
He nodded against your shoulder. "Okay. Okay."
But he still put extra security on the windows. And tracked your phone. And made Dick promise to be on call 24/7 in case something happened.
Some battles, you knew, you weren't going to win.
Catherine's first real family gathering happened at three months old.
Alfred had insisted. "Master Jason, she is part of this family. She should be introduced properly."
"She's three months old. She can't even hold her head up fully. What's she going to do at a family dinner?"
"Be adorable. Steal everyone's hearts. Allow her grandfather to dote on her properly." Alfred's expression was gentle but firm. "She belongs here. As do you and your wife."
So you'd agreed. One dinner. At the manor. With the whole family.
You were already regretting it.
"Remember," Jason said as you pulled up to the manor, Catherine in her car seat. "We can leave at any time. You say the word, we're gone."
"Jason, it's dinner with your family, not a hostage situation."
"Have you met my family?"
Fair point.
Alfred greeted you at the door, and his face absolutely lit up when he saw Catherine.
"Miss Catherine," he said softly. "How wonderful to finally have you home."
"We're just visiting, Alfred," Jason said.
"Of course, Master Jason. Visiting." But his smile suggested he had other ideas.
The family was already gathered in the dining room. Dick shot up the moment you entered.
"Baby!" He announced. "The baby is here!"
"Yes, thank you for that announcement," Jason said dryly. "I'm sure she appreciates being announced like a visiting dignitary."
But he carefully extracted Catherine from her carrier, and you watched as your normally tough, dangerous husband transformed into a gentle, protective father, cradling her like she was made of glass.
"Who wants to hold her first?" Jason asked, though his tone suggested he'd rather no one hold her at all.
"Me!" Dick, Tim, and Steph said simultaneously.
"Oldest gets priority," Dick argued.
"That's not a real rule—"
"I called it first—"
"Children," Bruce interrupted. "Perhaps we should let her parents decide."
Jason looked at you. You looked at the eager faces around the table.
"Dick," you decided. "But everyone gets a turn."
Dick looked like he'd won the lottery. Jason carefully transferred Catherine into his arms, hovering anxiously.
"I've got her," Dick promised. "Hi sweetheart. Hi beautiful girl. Uncle Dick missed you."
"You saw her three days ago," Jason pointed out.
"That's basically a lifetime at this age. She's probably grown since then. Developed new skills. Changed completely."
"She's three months old, not a Pokémon."
But watching Dick with Catherine, seeing the absolute adoration on his face, you understood why Jason had been scared to share this. Because this was his family now—not just his brothers and father, but his daughter. And letting them in meant risking them getting hurt, or her getting hurt, or everything falling apart.
It meant vulnerability he'd never allowed himself before.
Catherine got passed around the table like a very precious football. Tim held her while reciting developmental milestones. Steph cooed and took approximately a thousand photos. Duke was surprisingly natural with her. Even Damian held her, though he looked terrified the entire time.
"She's quite small," he observed.
"She's a baby," Jason said. "They're generally small."
"I was larger."
"You were also raised by assassins. Different standards."
Cass held Catherine the longest, just sitting quietly with her, and Catherine—who'd been fussing slightly with everyone else—immediately calmed.
"She likes you," you observed.
Cass smiled. "I like her."
Finally, Bruce held her. And watching Batman—the Dark Knight, the terror of Gotham's underworld—holding your infant daughter with such infinite gentleness made you understand exactly where Jason got his protective instincts from.
"She has your eyes," Bruce said to Jason. "And your stubborn expression."
"She's three months old. She doesn't have expressions yet."
"She's scowling at me right now. That's definitely your scowl."
Despite himself, Jason smiled.
Dinner was surprisingly normal. Catherine slept through most of it in your arms, occasionally waking to look around with unfocused baby eyes before drifting back off.
"So," Tim said carefully. "Are you guys... okay? Financially, I mean. Babies are expensive."
"We're fine," Jason said, in a tone that suggested the conversation was over.
"Because if you need anything—"
"We're. Fine."
"Jason," you said gently. "They're trying to help."
"I don't need help. I can provide for my family."
"No one's saying you can't," Bruce interjected. "But there's no shame in accepting support. That's what family does."
Jason's jaw was tight, but he nodded stiffly.
"I've set up a college fund," Bruce continued. "For Catherine. It's already established, you can't refuse it, it's done."
"Bruce—"
"You can be stubborn about everything else. But let me do this. Please."
Jason looked at Catherine, sleeping peacefully against your chest, and something in his expression softened.
"Okay," he said quietly. "Thank you."
"And I've prepared a nursery here," Alfred added. "For when you visit. Or if you need somewhere safe to stay."
"We have a safe house—"
"With respect, Master Jason, a manor full of vigilantes is considerably safer than any safe house." Alfred's expression was gentle. "I'm not asking you to move in. I'm simply ensuring you have options."
Jason looked overwhelmed. You squeezed his hand under the table.
"Thank you, Alfred," you said. "That's very kind."
As the evening wound down, you found yourself in the library with Bruce while Jason was changing Catherine.
"Thank you," you said. "For being patient with him. I know the secrecy hurt."
"He was protecting what matters most. I can't fault him for that." Bruce looked at you carefully. "Are you happy?"
"Very. Even with the chaos and the threats and the constant fear. Yes."
"Good. He deserves happiness. More than he believes he does." Bruce paused. "If you ever need anything—not just money or resources, but support, advice, someone to call at 3 AM when you're overwhelmed—you have family now. All of us."
Your throat was tight. "Thank you."
Jason appeared in the doorway, Catherine against his shoulder. "Ready to go?"
You nodded, standing. Bruce walked you both to the door.
"Come back soon," he said. "Please."
"We will," you promised.
In the car, Jason was quiet. You let him process, knowing he needed time.
Finally, he said: "That wasn't terrible."
You laughed. "High praise."
"They love her. All of them."
"Of course they do. She's perfect."
"She is, isn't she?" Jason glanced in the rearview mirror at Catherine's car seat. "I still don't want to move into the manor."
"I know."
"But maybe... maybe we could visit more. Let her know them. Let them be part of her life."
"I think that's a good idea."
"I'm still installing more security at the safe house."
"I wouldn't expect anything less."
He reached over, took your hand. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For this. For her. For understanding why I kept it secret and not being angry about it. For being patient with my paranoid bullshit. For—" His voice roughened. "For everything."
You lifted his hand to your lips, pressed a kiss to his knuckles. "We're a family now. That's what family does."
"Yeah," Jason said softly, looking at Catherine sleeping peacefully in her car seat. "Yeah, we are."
And for the first time since Catherine was born, you saw him truly relax. Saw him believe that maybe—just maybe—this could actually work.
Secret or not, hidden or revealed, they were his family.
All of them.
And that was more than he'd ever thought he'd have.
The second photo Jason sent to the family group chat showed Catherine at nine months, sitting up on her own, grinning at the camera with two tiny teeth visible.
JASON: She said "Dada" this morning.
The responses came immediately.
DICK: AHHHHHHHHHH
TIM: That's developmentally appropriate for her age
STEPH: I'M CRYING
DUKE: That's adorable
DAMIAN: Acceptable first word
BRUCE: I'm very proud of her. (And of you.)
DICK: When can I teach her to say "Uncle Dick"???
JASON: Never. She's never learning that.
DICK: You can't stop the inevitable, Little Wing
JASON: Watch me
You looked over Jason's shoulder at his phone, Catherine on your hip babbling happily.
"They're never going to leave us alone now," you observed.
"Probably not."
"You okay with that?"
Jason looked at Catherine, who was reaching for his phone with grabby baby hands. He let her take it, watching as she immediately tried to put it in her mouth.
"Yeah," he said, catching her before she could succeed. "I think I am."
And that, more than anything, told you just how far he'd come.
From secret-keeper to sharing.
From isolated to family.
From protected to protecting.
It was beautiful to watch.
Even if it did mean dealing with Dick stopping by every other day.
he knows it's petty. yet, that does nothing to abate the furrow of his brows and the pout on his lips.
your mii is refusing to date his mii. the stubby big-headed character he poured way too much effort into making it look like you using the face paint and tinkering with the facial placement— though it is but a pittance compared to the real deal. not to mention the fact that he had to make you based off memory since he had been too shy to confess that he made both of you as miis on his island and wanted a reference.
the only two residents on his island, in fact.
and he's still getting rejected.
if he was lucky you'd let him talk to you whilst sitting together on the fountain. only for his mii to vaguely ask to hang out and make things awkward.
he had even made place holder miis, before unceremoniously removing them, until he got the island expansions! the restaurant. photo booth. pawn shop. hell, even the ferris wheel! yet, no juice could be made from the fruit of his labor.
your mii had been adamant in constantly rejecting his advances, even having the gall to fall in love with one of the placeholder miis.
and after every rejection, his own mii kept falling back in love after a trip to europe to subside his despair. after the first few times the love bubble inevitably popped up, jason had told his mii-self that it was too soon to ask your mii out only for that equally big-headed bunch of pixels refuse his advice and ask you out anyway. rinse and repeat.
perhaps it was a cruel joke on him for even trying. was it because your mii wasn't accurate enough? jason swears to himself that he'll keep a small photo of you in his wallet from this day forth.
perhaps it was poetic. that, no matter what happens to him, he'll always come to love you.
Summary: You and your husband John Price eat some suspicious food.
Warnings: swearing, Drug use, getting drugged
——————
“Mum, where’s your brownie recipe?” Lily asked, flipping through your handwritten recipe notebook.
You had made the little book over the years. It was a medium-sized orange leather-bound notebook covered in stickers of Bluey, FC Liverpool, flowers, and an old army logo. Your kids had decorated it through the years, which made it all the more sentimental.
The first page held an old Polaroid of you baking in yours and John’s old flat, back when you were only dating. That day was a fond memory because it was the day you decided you would become a good baker.
It had been for John, it was always for John if you were honest. He’d been laid up injured from a deployment and had asked you to bake sugar cookies. After that day, you never looked back, slowly becoming the great baker and cook you were today. It was a fond memory for John too, though he still complained that rainy Sunday was when the battle between him and his waistband began.
“I don’t keep the brownie or cookie recipe in there.” You spoke nonchalantly, walking by your fifteen-year-old and giving her a shrug.
“Where do you keep it?” Lily snapped the book shut and looked at you, rather annoyed.
You loved your children dearly, but each one of them became incredibly sassy in their teenage years, and you weren’t a fan of that.
“You’re not getting that recipe.” John interjected from his spot at the kitchen island.
John was sitting on the center bar stool, hunched over a bowl of rice, beans, and chicken while scrolling on his phone.
“Why!?” Lily gaped at him, offended. She turned to you since her father seemed too absorbed in whatever was on his phone to respond. You were at the stove, serving yourself a bowl of what John had cooked for dinner.
“Your dad’s being cheeky. I can give it to you, but you have to promise not to share it with anyone.” Taking your spoon, you pointed it at Lily to show you were serious.
Lily smiled brightly and nodded eagerly.
She was such a pretty young girl, although she didn’t believe it. Your dad said she dressed exactly like you had at that age, which Lily would always scoff at. The best way to describe Lily’s style was alternative. She liked loose-fitting jeans, thrifted sweaters, long sleeves stacked under T-shirts, dark colors, and Converse. Her brown hair was cut into a cute bob with wispy bangs and a single blonde streak framing the right side of her face.
To John’s utter dismay, she had four piercings in each ear, and you had taken her to get a cute little nose stud last month.
That had caused a huge fight between the two of you, but you told him that if Lily was anything like you, you’d eventually find blood in her sink and her trying to hide an infected piercing. So, you made the choice to have it done safely and let your daughter express herself.
It blew up after that. John had been irate with you and said Lily would end up with a tattoo at sixteen, just like you had.
As much as you and her older sister Evelyn were similar, Lily had gotten the bits of your personality Evelyn wasn’t capable of possessing. The hidden insecurities, the sensitivity, and the tendency to take things personally at times. Your shy little girl had grown up to be a shy, soft-spoken fifteen-year-old outside the house.
With you and John, though, she back-talked, rolled her eyes, and had recently started sneaking out.
“Darling, I don’t think Lily’s earned that kind of trust.” John finally looked up from his phone and gave you what Lily referred to as the look.
“Oh, come on,” Lily whined, already knowing where this was going.
“You gonna sneak out again?” you asked your daughter, your mouth around your spoon.
“Don’t have any plans you’ve said no to, so as of now, no.” Lily had that same playful grin John was known for.
You couldn’t acknowledge what she’d said, not with the amount of salt assaulting your taste buds.
“Lily.” John warned.
“It’s a brownie recipe. What could she possibly do with it besides make brownies with her friends?” You coughed through your words and chugged your water. You didn’t want to tell John how bad dinner was because it was sweet of him to cook.
“In this family? There’s bound to be plenty of trouble to be had over something like a brownie recipe.” John grumbled.
“Here. Don’t give it to anyone. I worked really hard on perfecting it.” Your voice was strained as you sent Lily the recipe from the notes app on your phone.
“Thanks, Mum.” She beamed.
“Now get yourself a bowl and eat dinner with us before you shut yourself back in your cave.” John’s joke earned an eye roll from both his girls.
“Oh, bleh, Dad, this is really bad.” Lily spat the food back into her bowl.
“It’s not that bad.” John’s voice cracked.
“Italian?” you asked.
“Let me grab my keys.”
“Brilliant!” Lily cheered.
——————
It was Friday night and neither you nor John felt like cooking. So you suggested hot pot, which had quickly become a recent favorite of yours. Lily had loved it the first time you took her and now asked every other week if you could go.
So here you were, gathered around a table with boiling broth and mountains of meat, noodles, dumplings, vegetables, and seafood.
“Dad, you’re such a good cook.” Lily snickered.
She held out her bowl while John dropped a bundle of noodles into it.
“Fuck off.” John snorted out a laugh.
He then served some into your bowl while you tossed another plate of meat into the bubbling broth.
This place was amazing for a man like John. All-you-can-eat was less a meal and more a challenge. You still found yourself watching in awe at just how much food he could put away.
“Darling, switch seats with me.” John nudged you with his elbow.
“Why?” you asked around your chopsticks.
“I think the spice is getting to you. Your eyes have gone bloodshot.” You simply smiled and ignored him while John leaned closer to make sure your eyes weren’t actually irritated.
You seemed fine, so he shrugged it off.
“Those brownies came out really good, Lil.” You smiled at your daughter.
Lily immediately began choking on her food. Her eyes went wide and she felt a weight settle on her chest. The suffocating weight of dread.
“What!?” she blurted.
You blinked at her reaction. Across the table, you and John shared a confused look.
“Were you saving them?” you asked.
“Yeah. Your mum cleaned out your bag before we left and had a few.” John shook his head. “Tasted bloody awful.”
“John,” you whispered, warning him not to be rude.
“What?” he asked defensively.
“You don’t even like chocolate, so your opinion isn’t helpful.”
“Yeah? You like them, then?” John’s eyebrows rose in challenge.
“Are you feeling fine?” Lily squeaked.
“What do you mean?” You frowned, struggling to grab a dumpling with your chopsticks. It kept slipping away, doing little circles and flips around your bowl.
John’s eyes narrowed.
He and Lily locked into an intense stare.
“Please don’t kill me—”
“Lily.”
John’s voice dropped a full octave.
“I can’t get this fucking dumpling.” You started giggling as it escaped you yet again.
John put down his chopsticks and buried his face in his hands.
“I get randomly drug tested. You’re aware of that, right?” He was so deadly calm it had the blood in Lily’s veins going ice cold.
“Drug tested? Why’s that coming up?” You stared at him.
John let out a long sigh, looking between your bloodshot eyes and the dumpling that had apparently become your mortal enemy.
Then it clicked.
“Oh shit. I’m high.”
“They were weed brownies. I’m so sorry.” Lily looked between the two of you, absolutely terrified.
“Good job.” You giggled, finally stabbing the dumpling and shoving it into your mouth.
“Oi, no condoning this!” John snapped.
“John, you said they were awful and then ate four.” You fell into hysterical laughter. This is what he got for his gluttony for baked goods.
“You’re not mad?” Lily asked, wide-eyed.
“No need for me to be mad. Your dad can handle that for both of us.” You pointed at John with your chopsticks.
“Or worried?” Lily added nervously.
“This is far from the first time I’ve been high in public. I can handle myself. Your dad, on the other hand, has never been high before, so Godspeed.” You patted John’s shoulder sympathetically.
“You’ve been high in public!?” Lily’s jaw dropped.
“Yes, but let’s not go there. I don’t think your father wants me sharing those stories right now.”
“Mum.”
“How do I know when it’s happening?” John asked, staring at you with growing concern while completely ignoring the rest of the conversation.
“You’ll know.” Your responce didn’t seem to calm John what so ever.
You turned to Lily.
“How much did you put in each brownie?”
You expected an actual measurement. Some idea of just how much you and John had consumed. Because there was a chance you’d just be a little high or you could end up stoned out of your mind.
“I don’t know. A lot.” She said just above a whisper, already cringing at your reaction before it even happened.
“That is not a measurement, Lily.”You blinked at her several times while that information settled in.
Honestly, that was more irritating than being drugged.
“Oh, you’re fucked, John.” Turning to your husband, you weren’t entirely sure you could find the humor in this one.
“Should I go throw up?” John looked genuinely panicked.
“Too late. Just enjoy it.” You shrugged and immediately went back to chasing another dumpling around your bowl.
“Lily, if you’re going to be doing stuff like this, you need to measure.” You spoke seriously.
“Um—”
“I mean it. It’s careless not to know how much you’re consuming or how much you’re giving other people. If you can measure sugar and flour, you can measure the weed going into the brownies.” Lily wasn’t sure why this was the part you were lecturing her on.
Instead of simply being angry, you seemed more concerned with safe drug use while her father was firmly on Team No Drugs.
“What are you, the food police?” Lily didn’t mean to sound sarcastic. She was genuinely confused how this had somehow become a quality-control issue.
“Don’t be cheeky. You drugged two people. It’s perfectly reasonable that we’d like to know how much we’ve taken.” You shot her an unimpressed look before turning to John for backup.
John was staring at his daughter with a murderous expression. Lily could practically feel the daggers coming from across the table.
“Why use your mother’s recipe!? If you’re making drugs, use boxed mix!” John hissed over the steaming pot.
You immediately burst out laughing.
You’d expected a lecture about drugs.
Not that.
“I wanted them to taste good!” Lily defended herself.
“Well, they were bloody terrible.”
“You ate four!”
“Disgracing your mum’s recipe. How dare you.”
John pointed the tongs at her accusingly before immediately going back to adding noodles to the pot.
“You’ve drugged your mother.” John tacked on looking fuming mad.
“Imagine how much worse they’d be with boxed mix.” you said casually while scrolling through the ordering tablet and adding more food.
“How are you so calm!?” Lily quietly shrieked.
“This isn’t my first rodeo.” You continued tapping the screen.
“Oh my God, and you’re okay with that!?” Lily turned to John, who still looked ready to explode.
“Yes. Because your mum is a grown woman who can make those choices. You’re grounded. So bloody grounded you’ll never see your friends again for as long as I’m alive.” John kept pointing the tongs at whoever he was talking to, occasionally flinging noodles across the table.
“Give it a year, Lil. One of us is bound to put him in an early grave with all the trouble we cause.”
“That’s not fucking funny!” John hissed.
His expression softened briefly when you showed him the tablet.
He nodded.
Apparently he approved of your food choices.
“I’m getting more noodles. What do you want, Lily?”
The smile you gave her felt like emotional whiplash.
“Uh—”
“Uh, nothing. You better eat. This place is forty-five quid a head.” John pointed his tongs at her before returning to cooking.
“Uh… more meat and tofu, please.”
“John? You sure there’s nothing else?”
“One hundred percent.”
“You sure?”
“I need a bloody break.”
John dropped his face into his hands.
“Double meat it is. I’ll get shrimp too.”
You immediately submitted the order. A second later, your attention was stolen by one of the little singing robots gliding past a nearby table.
You thought they were adorable.
“I’m so hungry.” John shook his head and went back to cooking vegetables.
“Dad, I’m so sorry.” Lily returned to her noodles while watching in awe at the amount of food you continued to order.
“You’re lucky we’re in public.” He hissed. And Lily was truly lucky. If this happened at home John would’ve been shouting until he went hoarse.
“I’m sorry.” She sounded like she was about to cry but John waved his hand for her to stop the water works.
“We’ll deal with it tomorrow.” John pulled out his phone and dialed. It took a few rings before who he called picked up.
“Jj, your sister drugged me and your mother. Take a cab, come join us for hot pot, and drive us home.” It sounded like an order because it was one. John didn’t give his son any other choice.
“Dad!” Lily shrieked.
Audible laughter came from the other end of the call. John couldn’t handle being laughed at so he hung up.
“Ooo! I get to order more food and see the robot again.” You sang happily to yourself.
“Mum—”
“Shush, it’s here! Isn’t he so cute?” You gushed over the little robot waiter delivering all your goodies.
John felt his face go slightly numb. He turned to you and gave a single nod.
That was it.
He officially knew he was high.
So John decided to white knuckled this. And just try and survive until Jj got there twenty minutes later.
Jj walked into the restaurant, eyes scanning the packed tables and booths. He was stopped at the register and informed there was a forty-five-minute wait, but after explaining he was meeting his family, the waitress politely pointed him toward their table.
Halfway there he had to stop as a four-foot-tall singing robot rolled down the aisle and parked itself beside a table.
Skirting around it, Jj finally caught sight of his family.
To his utter shock, what was usually a neat table with carefully stacked white bowls and plates was in complete disarray.
Jj watched his normally organized mother push stackable bowls around as if searching for something specific. Meanwhile, his father sat next to her, watching her closely while absentmindedly eating piece after piece of meat from a small bowl.
Lily spotted him first.
She looked pale, like she was about to be led to the guillotine.
Without a word, she slid over to make room. Dodging another singing robot waiter, Jj slipped into the booth and continued observing his parents.
“Thought it’d be Evelyn. Wasn’t expecting it to be you, Lil.” He nudged her with his elbow.
She immediately stomped on his foot.
“Eat, eat!” John ordered, motioning for Lily to fill Jj’s bowl.
“Thanks for picking us up. Hope you weren’t busy.” You smiled at your son before taking a large bite of noodles dripping with spicy red broth.
“I like the spicy broth, like Mum.”
Jj directed the comment at Lily, who quietly started cooking for him like an obedient employee taking orders.
No eye rolls.
No complaints.
No attitude whatsoever.
That alone told him she was in serious trouble. As he ate, Jj watched you and John whisper to each other and giggle like children.
John suddenly snorted and slapped the table, laughing hysterically at whatever you’d just said. A moment later he narrowed his eyes suspiciously at one of the singing robots gliding past while you remained completely fascinated by it.
“Oh my God, he’s so high,” Jj whispered.
“I know, but it hasn’t fully hit him yet. He hasn’t even acknowledged it.” Lily grabbed a shrimp and shoved it into her mouth when John shot her a look. Then he pointed the tongs toward the mountain of uncooked food waiting beside the pot.
“How much trouble are you in?” Jj asked.
“Grounded until Dad’s dead.”
“You’ll be alright. He’s ancient.”
“Lily, keep cooking.” John aggressively pointed at the pile of shrimp and meat before snapping the tongs together twice.
⸻
“You two okay back there?” Jj asked, checking the rearview mirror.
“How much do you think one of those robots cost?” you asked your husband.
Getting John out of the restaurant had taken far more effort than it should have.
At some point he’d become so uncomfortable that he’d refused to leave the table because people might look at him. Eventually you’d threatened to order every menu item individually just so the robot would keep returning to the table.
That had been enough to get him moving.
Now you and John sat on opposite sides of the back seat. You had your head tilted back, staring at the ceiling. John sat rigidly beside you, fidgeting with his jacket pocket. When you glanced over, your eyebrows lifted.
He was completely out of it.
His eyes kept darting between the windows and the road behind the car while he repeatedly tried to turn his pocket right-side-out.
“John, chill out.” You couldn’t stop giggling at how paranoid the weed had made him.
“I heard sirens.” John twisted in his seat to look behind the car.
You tapped his shoulder and motioned for him to face forward.
“Yeah, Dad. It’s just the weed. Nothing’s happening.” Jj adjusted the windshield wipers as the rain intensified.
“He’s right. I heard sirens too.”
“Oh my God.” Jj burst out laughing. “The sirens were in the song.” He shut the radio off and glanced back at his father, who was beginning to look slightly green.
“Eyes on the road!” John barked.
Jj had barely looked away from it.
“John—” John immediately looked at you with wild eyes. You startled him by saying his name.
“Do you think they lease the robots?” you asked seriously.
“Why’s my chest so tight!? Am I having a heart attack!? Is it finally my time!?” John was breathing heavily now. Hand pulling on his collar.
“Dad, chill out.” Lily turned around in her seat, attempting to comfort him.
“Sit properly and put your seat belt on!” John barked.
“Lily, just sit.” You waved her back before returning your attention to your husband.
You rubbed circles into his back. Leaning forward slightly, Lily watched with horror.
“Google the logistics of those robots and send it to me.” you whispered.
Then you immediately returned to soothing John.
“It’s okay, John. Everything’s fine.” You continued rubbing his back.
“I think I’m dying,” John wheezed.
“You’re not dying. You’re just insanely high.” You were trying very hard not to laugh. John was oddly adorable when he panicked and it’s not like you’d ever truly seen him like this.
“You’ve gone through war. Some weed is really going to take you down?” Jj laughed.
“Jj, leave your dad alone.” You sighed in relief as the car finally turned down your long winding road and the rain began to ease.
“I swear I’m dying.” John grabbed your shoulders, trying to make you understand the severity of his situation.
“I think you’re just panicking.” You looked slightly nervous saying it.
“I don’t panic.” He groaned in frustration.
“You’re right. You’re not panicking. You’re only dying.” You cooed sympathetically.
Both of your children sat quietly listening to their father spiral while their mother comforted him.
Honestly, it was kind of sweet.
A man who normally felt larger than life had been reduced to a panicked mess, and all it took to hold him together was your hand rubbing circles across his back.
“He had so much, Jj. He ate four brownies.” Lily lowered her voice.
“Is that a lot? How much did you put in them?”
“I didn’t measure.”
“You didn’t measure?” Jj stared at her. “How are people supposed to know how much to take?” It seemed like common sense.
He wasn’t expecting the murderous look Lily shot him.
“Shut up! You don’t think I’ve learned that after all this?” She threw her hands in the air.
“How high are you, Mum?”
“Yep!” You smiled brightly.
Your children stared at you in disbelief. That was the dumbest yet cutest way you could possibly respond to that question.
“Leave your mother alone. She’s the only thing keeping me sane.” John muttered into his hands.
When you stopped rubbing his back for even a second, he let out a small, deeply unhappy whine.
“John, they don’t need to know that.”
“Know what?” John looked genuinely confused.
You simply nodded and kissed his cheek.
“Mum, you’re not half bad right now.” Jj scoffed.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Jj immediately looked back as he pulled up the driveway and parked.
Shrugging him off, you climbed out of the car. The cool damp night air lit up your skin and forced a deep breath from your lungs. Walking around to John’s side, you opened the door.
He hadn’t moved.
Still elbows on knees.
Still face buried in his hands.
“Come on, big guy. Let’s get you inside.” You motioned for him to get out.
“No.”
“John, come on.”
“No.”
“There’s cake inside.”
“Okay, I’m coming.” With a heavy sigh and one final second of keeping his eyes closed, John slowly slid out of the back seat of your SUV. He was steady on his feet, but the expression on his face showed just how physically uncomfortable he felt.
“Alright, come on.” You took him by the arm and slowly led him inside, settling him onto a stool at the kitchen island. You waved Jj toward the light switch, silently telling him to turn the lights on.
“Are my hands supposed to feel like this?” John stared down at them as if they belonged to someone else. He looked confused, concerned, and slightly offended by whatever sensation he was experiencing.
“Feel like what?” you asked, grabbing milk and two glasses.
You kept glancing between John and your children.
Jj was setting out plates and forks to help while Lily hovered near the back door, trying her hardest to remain uninvolved. You pointed toward an empty stool for her to take a seat. Slowly, very slowly, she moved over and sat down two seats away from her father.
“Like this.” John gestured vaguely at his hands, apparently hoping his eyes would communicate the feeling for him.
“Uh… tingly?” You let Jj finish setting out napkins while you carried over the cake.
Without realizing it, you kept touching Jj’s shoulder until he finally took your hand and placed it back on the counter. He whispered for you to stop touching him every two seconds and you nodded.
“Pins and needles. Doesn’t that happen before someone’s heart stops?” The question came out more frantic than you’d expected.
“Depends. Is it only on your left side?” You set the cake down giving John your full attention.
“It’s on both.” John looked deadly serious.
You waved for his hand and he immediately offered it. Leaning over the counter, you pressed two fingers to his wrist and pretended to take his pulse.
John watched you intently, waiting for your diagnosis.
“I think you’re fine.” You nodded despite not actually counting anything.
“What if it’s my heart and something else?” John doubled down.
You decided to give him exactly the level of concern he deserved.
“We’ll hold an extravagant funeral.”You hummed as you cut him a slice before serving yourself one.
Remaining on the opposite side of the island, you happily ate your raspberry lemon cake with mascarpone frosting.
Jj leaned against the fridge with his plate balanced near his chin while Lily took a bite and immediately started eyeing your recipe book, desperate to figure out how you’d made it.
“I always thought I’d die on a Sunday.” John spoke around his fork, eyes fixed on the cake between you. The sugar was helping distract him if only it was for a moment.
“You seem like the type to die on a Sunday.” You agreed without looking up, strategically planning your next bite.
“Right?”
“What on earth are you two talking about?” Jj asked.
“You’d die on a Wednesday and your service would be on Friday.” John said it with so little hesitation that it sounded like a fact.
“Uh huh. Uh huh.”
You pointed your fork at him.
“Roses would fill the funeral hall.”You giggled and stretched your arms wide before spinning in a circle.
It made John snicker.
“I want people to be utterly knackered at my funeral.” He wore that goofy grin you loved.
You normally only saw it when you were alone together, usually after luring him into a pillow fight or telling a story that had him in stitches.
“What is happening?” Lily asked, hanging off the side of her stool and trying to put as much distance between herself and John as possible.
“Days of the week have personalities. Your father and I have been convinced of this for years. It has to translate to when you die.” You said it as though it were common knowledge.
“Personalities?” Jj repeated.
“Your father’s a Tuesday and I’m a Saturday. Put us together and we’re the perfect Thursday night.” You laced your fingers together to demonstrate.
“What?”
“You’re specifically a Saturday night.” John clarified. “And I’m a Tuesday morning.”
Both children looked stunned that their father was participating in this nonsense so seriously.
“A rainy, dreary Tuesday.” John motioned for another slice of cake.
You eagerly nodded.
“You’re a chilly Saturday.” John added it almost shyly.
“You think?”
“Yeah. Forces everyone to be inside together.” A faint pink dusted his cheeks as he said it with complete sincerity.
“John.” Your hand rose to your chest. He looked at you with nothing but adoration.
“That’s one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me.” You meant every word.
It sounded less like a compliment and more like a love confession. Unfortunately for your children, they happened to be sitting there.
“I know, darling.” John smiled and reached across the island to take your hand.
“That?” Jj gaped. “That’s one of the nicest things Dad’s ever said?”
“You two have gone mad.” Lily whispered.
“Lily, you’re a Sunday.” John shook his head adamantly.
“Oh, she absolutely is!” You practically cheered.
“Evelyn?” you asked.
“Friday.” You and John answered together.
“Jj?” John looked at you and silently counted down from five.
“Monday.” You answered in unison again.
“Boom!” You pointed triumphantly at your deeply confused children.
“What would Ghost be?” Lily asked. She clearly didn’t understand any of this, but curiosity had finally won.
“A leap year.” You answered without hesitation.
“Not Halloween?” Jj chuckled.
“Oh, if we’re doing holidays, he’s definitely not Halloween. He’s Día de los Muertos.” You sounded incredibly confident.
John nodded along.
“Your mum’s New Year’s Eve.” John gave you a cheeky wink making you beam at him.
“And you’re a bank holiday.” You laughed loudly.
“No, I’m not.” John looked genuinely offended.
“We both know you’re New Year’s Day.” You relented slightly.
“How am I New Year’s Day?”
“Everyone likes the idea, but very few stick to their resolution.” You said it matter-of-factly.
“You’re right.” The fond smile on his face was infectious.
“That feels a little cynical, Mum.” Lily interrupted.
She seemed deeply uncomfortable with whatever weird flirting was happening.
“What? Your dad sticks to his!” You pointed defensively.
“Unless I’m waking up hungover that year.” You and John pointed at each other simultaneously.
“Exactly!”
“Okay, you two keep eating cake and classifying people into holidays.” Jj waved as he left the room. He’d reached the end of his patience for whatever this conversation was and the strange flirting hiding underneath it.
“See ya, first day of school!” you called after him. John barked out a laugh.
“He is!”
“What am I?” Lily asked with a smile.
“Grounded.” John practically sang the word, making you double over in laughter. By the time you managed to catch your breath, there were tears in your eyes.
“Awesome,” Lily said flatly before following after Jj.
“Lily.” You peeked your head into the hallway and watched your daughter slowly turn around.
This was it.
This was when you’d actually punish her.
“I meant it when I said to research those robots. Send me what you find.” Lily stared at you for a moment before shaking her head and disappearing down the hallway.
Walking back into the kitchen, you found John flipping through the recipe book you’d left on the counter. You put the cake away and tidied up while he turned page after page, completely absorbed.
Flicking off the kitchen light, you smiled at your husband.
He paid you absolutely no attention.
“Time for bed, handsome.” you said sweetly.
“Goodnight, darling.” John didn’t even look up, seemingly captivated by whatever recipe he’d landed on.
“You’re coming with me.” You laughed.
“Right.” John snapped the book shut and allowed himself to be led upstairs.
⸻
“Good morning,” Lily said meekly as she wandered into the kitchen.
“Morning, my little drug dealer.” You smiled and gave her a wink.
Standing at the stove, you plated potatoes and eggs while Lily glanced toward the table.
Her father sat at the head of it with an empty plate in front of him and a small dish of biscuits meant for sharing.
She immediately tensed.
“Thanks for sending those articles. I’m thinking about getting one of those robots for the museum now.”Carrying the plates over, you continued the conversation you’d apparently been having before she’d arrived.
“Morning.” John lowered his newspaper and cut his eyes toward you.
“Drop it. I’ve heard enough about that bloody robot.” He aggressively flicked the paper straight before shooting an annoyed look toward his fifteen-year-old.
Lily’s eyes bounced between the two of you. Honestly, it didn’t surprise her. You had a tendency to become completely obsessed with random things once they caught your interest.
“I thought you didn’t have work today.” Lily looked at John, waiting for the punishment to finally arrive.
The fact neither of you had properly addressed what she’d done last night was becoming increasingly unbearable.
“Gotta be on base and fill out some forms for accidental ingestion of illicit substances.” John took a sip of tea.
“You reported it? Why not just pretend it didn’t happen?” Lily slid into her seat and immediately started eating once you placed her breakfast in front of her.
You sat across from her with your laptop. Without a word, John leaned over, stole your piece of toast, and began eating it. You were too distracted by whatever was on your screen to notice.
“Had to. I don’t know when they’re going to test my piss.” John’s tone wasn’t pleasant, but he still hadn’t actually reprimanded her.
That somehow made things worse.
“I’m so sorry,” Lily mumbled into her tea.
“Uh huh.” John peered at her from over the edge of his newspaper.
“Why don’t you get started on your punishment once you’re done eating?” You finally looked away from your laptop and smiled at your daughter.
“And that is?”
“Baking.” Your smile became just a little too sweet.
“Baking?” Lily immediately looked suspicious.
“Yep. There’s a charity event and we’re donating six hundred cupcakes.” You turned your laptop around.
Lily leaned forward and found herself staring at the event page. It was one of the large fundraisers you participated in nearly every year to raise money for wounded and fallen soldiers.
Then her eyes drifted upward.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Every other open tab involved robot waiters.
That’s when the punishment truly hit her.
“Six hundred!?”
“Get to work. You can use boxed cake mix. I prefer not to. Veterans deserve the best, so we’re going to do our best.” You smiled.
“We’ve got all weekend.” You tacked on, finally relaxing your toast was missing. You looked around for a second and then at John.
“And it’s for charity…” Lily groaned, dropping her face into her hands. “I can’t even complain about charity.”
“That’s the point,” you chimed gleefully before taking your toast back from John.
“Make it six hundred and fifty,” John added without looking up from the paper. “I can bring some to the lads on base.”
origamiaround
stormborns
turnnoffyourmind
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