🔔 Meanwhile… At The Batcave 🔔

Marshmallow Miles

summary: prompt fill. Wally needs to get the hell out of Split River. thankfully, he finds the perfect excuse and takes you along for the ride. (request)

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut lite. fluff. AU - everybody is alive (zesty). lore established offscreen. same 'verse as Cuddle Bug.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🧁

Marshmallow Miles

Wally spent the last 40 years haunting the high school. Then spent the last few months within the town limits, adjusting to being a regular student while he got his second chance at life organized. Principal Hartman, Ms. Chung, and Mrs. Moretz—the guidance counselor—banded together to help the formerly-dead reacclimate, and part of that means they all need to graduate.

Except, obviously, Mr. Martin, who Sheriff Baxter's keeping a tight leash on. Or Janet, wherever the hell she is.

Point being, Wally and his friends are still tethered to the place they hate most in the world. Even if there is a light at the end of the tunnel this time, they don't get to enjoy it until they walk across the stage, diplomas in hand.

Which means Wally? Is feeling somewhat-very claustrophobic. Skin too tight, walls closing in, suffocated and nauseous at the thought of having to spend another goddamn second in the town that killed him.

It's as he's listening to you, hanging onto your every word like psalms, that the idea strikes. Light. Bulb. Wausau? Claire's stepdad's ski lodge? You don't say!

He knows your birthday's coming up (Simon made sure to stick post-it notes in every single one of Wally's text- and notebooks to remind him) and he's been fretting over what to do for weeks. But this? This is it! Not only will Wally be able to celebrate you the way you deserve, doing something you seem genuinely keen on, he'll be able to put Split River in the rearview for a whole week.

Is it a little selfish to use your birthday as an excuse to escape? Kind of, sort of, maybe. But he's desperate to find out if he can have a life beyond this. Beyond Split River High and Number 57 and tragedy and discombobulating rise-agains. And the only person he wants to find anything out with, well, is you.

It's two-birds-one-stone, honestly, and don't you always praise his efficiency? Hell yeah, you do. His biggest fan. Besides, he will dote on you, treat you right, make you feel like the center of the universe because you are. At least, you're the center of his, and that's why he has to do this. To prove there's a future with him that has more potential than cultivating small town syndrome.

You catch him grinning that dopey little grin he gets when he's thinking about surprising you, but Maddie distracts you before you can question it. Which gives Wally the rest of lunch to plot into his tater tots.

Thank you, Maddie. Best wingwoman ever.

‗•‗

The plan comes together seamlessly. Everyone pitches in to help bring Wally's vision to life. Claire gives him the keys to her stepdad's lodge. Maddie and Charley morally support Wally as he shops for warm clothes in your size that he can smuggle in his own luggage so you stay in the dark for as long as possible.

Nicole and Rhonda, the unlikeliest of best buds, drag him into The Body Shop and Victoria's Secret—"imagine a romantic bubble bath after skiing all day?" Nicole coos. "Imagine undressing her on a bearskin rug in front of a fire." Rhonda smirks around her new vape.

That's. Really. All the convincing Wally needs to make a dent in the allowance Rodney gives him.

Wally even swallows his pride, puts on his most charming smile, and asks Xavier for his truck. He knows the only reason Xavier agrees is because it's for you, but still, a win is a win. With a general, "hurt her and I'll rip your balls off," from your platonic soulmate, Wally joyfully departs. Tosses the keys in the air and catches them, his chest feeling lighter than it has in decades.

Everything is packed in the truck and ready to go the night before. He called you earlier to impart the vaguest of instructions as to what you should bring, proud of himself for not giving anything away too soon. Even when you asked in that silly-sweet voice, pouting on the screen like a princess, "Please? At least give me a hint!"

No. No hints.

Like a child on Christmas, Wally can barely sleep, he's so excited, but he manages a few hours. Dreams of the world beyond Split River as if he's setting off on some grand adventure and not just driving a 3.5 hour span of state highway.

Tomorrow, Wally will experience a first. Something that was so far out of reach there was no point entertaining it because all it led to was disappointment and regret. Instead there were years upon years of distractions. Mock Trials and obituaries and looking at his feet when he should've looked back.

Wally sometimes wonders if those missed opportunities weren't the yellow brick road that brought him to you. Everyone else walked through The Door with him, but there's no sign of Dawn who crossed over. If Mr. Martin didn't do what he did, Wally might've moved on, and you and he wouldn't exist...

His heart lurches in his chest.

No sense ruminating. You have him. He has you. That's all that matters now. And tomorrow, Wally will have his first real taste of freedom with the only person he wants to share that moment with.

It's going to be perfect.

‗•‗

Wally picks you up just after sunrise. You're grumpy and sleepwarm and, Jesus, Wally loves you. Pouting at him like he's both a menace and your savior. Arms up, lower lip jutted out, a sweet demand of carry me before you slump into his embrace and force him to take your weight. Which he does, easily, big grin on his face as he toddler-carries you to the passenger side of Xavier's truck.

He bundles you in, sets you up with the softest blanket Claire found at Target—Yuri and Ajay not doing their jobs as devil's advocate at all as the cart filled up with Claire's suggestions. Honestly, Wally doesn't care. Especially not after your eyes brighten as you run your fingers over it, wiggling happily in your seat.

"You cozy, babygirl?" He asks as soon as he's behind the wheel and the smile you give him makes him fucking melt.

"You got me a blanket." You state, tucking yourself in more securely; shoes off, feet up, elbow on the console so you can lean over it and kiss Wally's cheek. "Thank you."

Wally blushes, he can't help it, and shrugs as if it's nothing. "I got you a bunch of things, baby," he says as he starts the truck, "Just wait and see. You're gonna feel like a princess, I promise."

You slip your hand into his, fingers laced, and he rests them on your thigh as he drives. Down the street, turn left, continue to the intersection of Main and 4th. Right on 4th, all the way to the end and then left on Pine. Drive until the highway onramp. Now Leaving Split River, We'll Miss You!

Oh God... Wally's heart pounds, blood rushing in his ears. This feels bigger than his first step off school property. Bigger than feeling air in his lungs and a drum in his chest after being hollow for so long.

Somehow, and Wally doesn't know how, you manage to talk him through pulling over, crawling over the console to plant yourself in his lap. Hands cradling his jaw, you press your forehead against his and guide him away from the edge of a panic attack.

"—got you, Wally, I'm right here, you're okay, shh, you're okay..." The steady cadence of your voice sharpens as his breathing regulates. He's holding you like a lifeline, arms fastened around your waist, heaving great gulps of air as he trembles slightly.

"I'm sorry, baby," He gasps and squeezes his eyes shut.

"Nuh-uh, no apologies, Wally Clark," You say firmly. There's a lull before you chuckle, gentle and kind, "Hey, this was a lot better than the night you first stepped across the school boundary line, right?"

Fuck, that was a mess. However, Wally wasn't alone when that happened. Charley and Rhonda and Yuri, Mr. Martin and Ajay, Mina, they were all there too, equally as overwhelmed. Rhonda threw up on Quinn's shoes. Charley passed all the way out. Yuri and Ajay were fine, fuck them, but Mina just...screamed. And then laughed. Then cried. Then screamed some more, listening to the sound ricochet off the surrounding buildings in a way it wouldn't have days before The Door.

Wally snorts, "Yeah. Sure," and finally peeks up at you. Your thumbs stroke his cheeks that he realizes belatedly feel damp. Is he crying? Weak. But you aren't judging him, simply gazing at him like he hung the moon; you're perfect person, the man you love most, and Wally's chest swells. "We're out of Split River," Wally croaks.

You beam at him, "We're out of Split River."

Holy fuck. He's out of Split River.

‗•‗

After climbing out of the truck to holler into the ether. To chase each other around the Now Leaving sign. To grab you, spin you around and fall into the grass as you and he laugh and laugh and laugh, Wally finally gets the show back on the road.

Once again, he tucks you into your seat, takes your hand, checks his mirrors and then pulls back onto the highway, the town that raised him then witnessed his death becoming a speck in the background with every mile marker you and he pass.

He lifts your hand, grazes a kiss to your knuckles, his eyes on the road and his mind on you and everything he has planned for this trip. At the halfway point, he stops for gas, shadows you as you browse the aisles for exactly the right snacks. Fondly gazes after you the whole time as you make tough decisions: Nerds or Twizzlers? Cookies or chocolate? Wally, do I want a vanilla or butterscotch pudding with my Oreos? Because that's a normal combination, what?

He's absolutely no help at all, too busy mooning over you as you flutter between the fridge and the chest freezer, babbling about how integral to your mood it is to pick the right snack. To cover for the fact that he isn't paying attention, Wally grabs a bag of marshmallows off one of the shelves when you call him out for not listening.

"These." He says, holding the bag up and then glancing at the graham crackers and Hershey's displayed at eye-level. "Maybe these?"

"You wanna make s'mores in the truck?" You ask, dubious.

"No," Wally saves himself, "Just these," and he jiggles the bag of marshmallows. They're the jumbo kind; the kind he used to bet his cousin Dennis to eat five of in one bite or else he couldn't play Wally's Magnavox Odyssey.

You consider the marshmallows for a moment and then, with a decisive nod, "And hot chocolate."

"And hot chocolate," Wally agrees, following you around the shop to the coffee station.

Wally pays for everything, hip-butting you (carefully, no spills) out of the way when you try to pass the cashier your card. He takes the bag and the tray of hot chocolate and still holds the door open for you with his heel. No fucking way is his princess lifting a finger on her birthday-slash-Wally's-freedom trip.

For every mile, you dip a marshmallow in your hot chocolate—dipping Wally's as well and feeding him, giggling when he nips or sucks the gooey sugar from your fingertips. It's silly and sweet and Wally basks in every second of it. Every second of your off-key singing, your trivia answers, your arguments over which is better, Thunderbirds or Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons.

"You know, I have been catching up on TV shows, right?" Wally laughs, "You can use better examples."

"What's wrong with puppets, Wally? Are you a pupaphobist?"

Wally barks a laugh, "That's not a thing!"

"It definitely is a thing," And you wield your phone, flashing Google as Exhibit A. "So? Are you? Just say it, you hate Jim Henson and everything he stood for."

And it's amazing. It's anything and everything and so much more than Wally could've ever hoped for. Even the quiet intervals when the sugar wears off and the early wakeup call catches up to you; your body curled up in your seat awkwardly just so you can angle yourself right to rest your head on the console and place Wally's hand in your hair.

Adorable little diva.

As you doze, Wally watches the scenery drift by, his lungs expanding more and more with every mile he puts between himself and Split River.

Eventually, he turns off the highway and onto the backroads without you noticing a thing. His fingers card through your hair, trace the shape of your jaw and cheek as he absorbs the softness of the moment and tucks it away behind his ribs. Safe and sound, to be pulled out and cherished when he's alone.

When he parks, he's reluctant to wake you. So, he doesn't. Not immediately. Rather, he spends a few minutes just resting himself, sinking down a little in the driver's seat. Then slants sideways, curls over and around you to kiss your ear, cheek, jaw.

He couldn't dim his smile if he tried, enamored when you protest at first, but then sigh, realize where you are and who you're with before groggily chuckling at Wally's antics.

"Surprise, baby girl," He whispers, letting you sit up so you can take in your surroundings.

The look on your face tells Wally he did a good job. The way you tackle him into the inside of his door and kiss him tells him he's going to have to start planning next year's surprise tomorrow, because, fuck yeah, this is exactly the reaction he's looking for.

Getting out of the truck and staring at Claire's stepdad's lodge; at the trees and the snow and the vast expanse of sky, it hits him again like a ton of bricks.

Holy fuck. He's out of Split River!

‗•‗

He doesn't wait to celebrate. As soon as he closes the door behind him, he reels you in, kisses you deep and hungry while you're only halfway out of your jacket. That's okay, he helps you get it the rest of the way off, along with everything else.

"Let me make you feel good, baby," He whispers against your skin, hands everywhere, his hips rolling into yours as he pins you to the wall beside the door. "Let me show you how much I love you..."

Wally kisses you deep, hungry, groaning into your mouth as he keeps grinding his hard cock against you, fuck, you get him going like nothing else. All you have to do is breathe in his direction and his pants tent.

Heat courses through him, curls tight in his belly and flushes outward to his limbs, God, he needs you. Now. Right fucking now, baby, come on. He carries you to the enormous kitchen island, peels your leggings and panties off and has his lips on you and tongue in you faster than you can cry out his name.

"So sweet, baby," He moans into your pussy, panting, not bothering to breathe in his greed for your taste and pleasure. "Fuck, I can't wait to be inside you."

He spears his tongue in and out of you before teasing little circles around your clit, his fingers plunging into you in place of his tongue. Wally could do this all day and never get tired; the sounds you make, the way you writhe and beg for him, Jesus, he can't imagine ever wanting anything else.

Cruel, desperate, he doesn't care what you call it, he stops right as you're about to come, shoves his sweatpants just below his balls and drags your hips off the counter to punch his cock into you. His head falls back as soon as he feels you around him, so tight and hot, "Fuck, yes, baby, so good for me."

And he sets a frenzied pace, unable to keep himself in check now that he has you like this. His fingers dig into your lovehandles, your legs hooked over his elbows. He's grunting, you're mewling your pleasure, and Wally about loses it before you do. But he doesn't. He's better than that, fucks you like a beast until you scream and shake and squirt around his cock.

It's game over after that. No way can he hold on, his body tensing, hips grinding, as he spills deep inside you. Carefully, he sits you more firmly on the counter and leans in to kiss you, soft, sated, a little blissdrunk in the afterglow. Bodies pressed together, slowly recovering, Wally strokes the arches of your cheeks with his thumbs and gives you a muzzy smile.

"You're my whole world, you know that?" He tells you and then captures your lips in a kiss that quickly turns heated, "I'll do anything for you, baby." Fuck, he's already getting worked up again, needs more of you, always needs more. "I'll die all over again if you asked me to."

"Wally..." You gasp when he rocks his hips forward, driving his cock back into you.

It's just after sundown before you and he finally check out what's beyond the open kitchen/living room space, the table and couch and ottoman and, shit, bearskin rug fully christened in sweat and come.

You and he jump on the beds with childlike glee, music blaring on speakers that cost more than Rodney's mortgage. Claire explicitly forbade Wally from using the master suite so, taking that into consideration, that's the first bedroom he fucks you in—from behind, driving his hips forward while he pulls you back against him. What? He'll do the necessary laundry.

If he remembers...

‗•‗

After a supper of haphazardly thrown together and grossly microwaved nachos, Wally snuggles you between his legs on one of the Adirondack chairs outside, under a thick blanket and dressed accordingly in the thermals and sweater and fuzzy socks he secretly bought and brought for you.

The fire pit blazes, the stars above twinkle, and the land around is a peaceful kind of dark. Not the ominous, suffocating dark Wally grew accustomed to in the confines of the school. The comfortable silence between you and him is accentuated by the crackle and pop of the fire, the scene so peaceful, Wally has to wonder if he ever experienced any such feeling before.

His arms tighten around you and he presses a kiss to your cheek from behind, watching the flames dance as you lance another marshmallow on your stick.

Tomorrow is your birthday and he intends to take you skiing. Or, when he knows you'll diplomatically decide to trade skis for slippers, he'll bring you back here at noon and spoil you rotten with presents and a homecooked meal; that bubble bath Nicole suggested (thank you, Nicole), and a long night on that bearskin rug (thank you Rhonda).

It's going to be an incredible week, he assures himself. And on Saturday, the others will arrive while he takes you into the resort town to explore so they can set up your big surprise party. Yuri will grill in a t-shirt, and Charley will force everyone to play '90s boardgames he died too soon to play, and Rhonda will make everyone take shots whenever Wally gives you heart eyes just to watch the messiness unfurl.

Claire will probably reprimand him for fucking in her parents' bedroom, but Wally doesn't care. Because it means he celebrated you right. That you and he had fun. That there's evidence of the fact that, for the first time in 40 years, holy fuck, Wally made it out of Split River!

🧁___________fin.____________

also on AO3!

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if you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy Anxiety.

a smutty flashfic explaining how not. clingy. Wally is even when he thinks you're mad at him but won't tell him why.

Equals: Chapter III - Kitsune!Male!Reader x Yae Miko

A/N: Finally, eh? I didn't expect this idea to get so popular. This one got quite chonky, 4.5k words, so I decided to post it early and just split things up. This way, you get content early and I get something to look forward to. As for making Reader an actual character, I decided that I will give him the name Fractal when I post it to AO3. Anyway, do enjoy! CW: Light violence, mentions of body modification, mentions of suicide. It's just the aperitif.

Respected Yumemizuki Mizuki,

It has been a while since our last outing, and I cannot help but wonder if you hold a grudge for that jovial bit of teasing regarding the recent customer crisis of your bathhouse. I can only assure you I meant no harm, and pray most piously to the Sacred Sakura for your forgiveness. It was my intention all along to motivate you out of your, do not take offence, rather pathetic state of defeatism. Judging by how the issue was resolved, it seems that my ploy found significant success. Wouldn’t you agree?

Regardless, there is a matter of great importance that happens to require our attention. I am sure the situation regarding a certain destructive white fox has reached your adorable, pointy ears - it is indeed the topic of this letter. You may remember that he was rescued quite recently from the open ocean, but until yesterday, he was rather docile in terms of behavior. His sudden outburst worries me greatly; dark bags under his eyes, seemingly relentless night terrors and his words all lead me to the conclusion that his unprecedented episode of mania is related to his dreams. I will share more details at my home - feel free to visit me at your earliest convenience. Haste would be appreciated as the sedatives will wear off in about a day or so; I believe the opportunity to examine him without resistance will significantly speed up our work. 

If you indeed hold a grudge towards me, I ask you to do it for him, not for me.

Awaiting your visit, 

The Beloved, Beautiful and Powerful Kitsune Guuji of the Narukami Shrine

Yae Miko

That morning, with the warm sun shining down on her, Mizuki was greeted with the sight of soldiers as she approached the Yae estate. The walls around Miko's home towered high but, clearly, proved inefficient at stopping one of her kind. Even if in her heart Mizuki doubted that humans, further slowed by armour, could stop a fox, she acknowledged the reasoning. 

The standing officer nodded as she went past him and further into the courtyard towards the Tengu General, exchanging words with her subordinates. Mizuki stepped up, attracting Sara's attention. 

“Greetings, Yumemizuki Mizuki.” She bows formally, a gesture returned by the newcomer. 

“Good afternoon, general-sama.” 

The soldier bows deeply and walks away, leaving the two women alone. Sara glances towards the building and sighs. 

“I assume you are here for Y/N? He made a lot of hassle, I'm sure you've heard.” The Tengu crosses her arms. “He sneaked between the house staff and left shamelessly through the front gate in his fox form.”

Mizuki nods. “I see. I wonder, if I may… Isn't it too trivial of an incident for you to get personally involved?”

“Not at all. After all, the fox escaped because of the incompetence of Tenryu guards. It's no insignificant matter as the escapee was a kitsune. As you know, they are highly dangerous.”

The doctor frowns. Wasn't Y/N supposed to be docile? From Miko's previous descriptions he sounded more like a traumatised child than a violent one. 

“Was anybody hurt, general?” She asks, looking around for any bandaged or limping soldiers. 

“Hm. Well… Sort of.” Sara clears her throat. “During his extraction from a cave by the beach, two officers tried to take him in by force. Y/N resisted, scratching and biting.”

Sara turns and waves a duo of soldiers closer. “See, despite what Yae Miko told me, not only did they escape with their lives, but also with little to no harm done to them. Show her.”

One of the soldiers passes his spear to the other and, saluting his superior, wraps up his sleeve to reveal… Nothing on his left forearm. Mizuki takes his arm and moves her face closer. There are no obvious marks - no blood, no scars, not even redness of the skin. Eventually, her sharp eyes spot two barely noticeable dents. She runs her fingers over them. It's almost as if this wasn't a bite, but a simple poke with two fingers. 

“That's… Strange.” She mumbles to herself, seeking out more of these bite marks. There are very few, as if the kitsune was playing, not seriously intending to defend himself. “Did he attack you anywhere else?”

“Mhm. Here, on my face.”

Indeed - Mizuki’s eyes quickly found multiple bruises and red lines across the man's right cheek. Again, however, these didn't seem like an honest attempt at doing harm, even superficial. The markings clearly signaled the fox's hands to be the weapon, but he must have had his nails trimmed so significantly that they lost any hardness in them. Was that even possible? 

Mizuki nods. “Thank you, soldiers, general. Is Lady Miko home?”

“She is, waiting for you and keeping an eye on the Yokai. Go in, we shan't keep you here any longer.”

After a brief exchange or parting pleasantries, the women part ways. Mizuki skips up the stairs and places a few polite knocks on the door. Almost instantly it opens, revealing Miko's exhausted, but smiling face. Without a word she moves to the side and motions towards the house’s depths, inviting her guest in. Mizuki enters. 

“What's the situation? How does he feel?” She asks, looking around to guess where Miko is leading her. 

“Asleep”, comes the answer. “The Naku Weed brew will keep him like this for the next three, maybe four hours. We can work in peace.”

Mizuki lifts her perfectly groomed brow. “Isn't that poisonous?”

“Heh. Not at all, for us kitsune at least. This kind of dose would do irreparable damage to the nervous system of most yokai and humans, but our race is more protected against it.” Miko explains, pressing the knob and pushing open the door to your room. “No need to be quiet, he's out.”

Her eyes land on your unconscious body, your back turned on her. The long, grizzly scars carved into your body assault her eyes. Some are new, staring back at her with recently scabbed crimson, but some seem old - so old that their only remnant is a colourless, white line left on uneven skin. Snow-white bandages snake around your torso, some stained with dark, red blood. There are many scratches and sickly-purple bruises across your arms and torso, likely there from your mad dash of an escape. In places untouched by harm, your skin is clean, pristine, so soft that just looking at it feels like caressing velvet. The hair in your head, as white as the bandages, seems to grow messily around two pointy, fox ears, only barely relaxed due to your state. 

“He went through much trouble, I can tell.” Mizuki sits down on one of the chairs facing the bed. “Who is he? A warrior?”

Miko looks down on her hands, tone nonchalant. “Hardly. I'd say that the term… Slave… Would be more descriptive of his life.”

“S-slave…? Yours?” There is surprise, but also worry in the baku’s voice. After all, the wretched act of taking away another's freedom was prohibited for centuries, ever since Makoto came to power. The thought of Miko enslaving one of her kin…

“Not at all. I should feel insulted by the mere notion that I would stoop so low as to chain another, but I'm willing to forgive your ignorance.” Miko's gaze hardens as she looks at her friend. “You don't seem to know the basics of our history.”

“Then, please, enlighten me.”

Miko crosses her arms. “Inazuma was always welcoming towards Yokai, was it not? No matter the age, all of us could find shelter here. Baku, kappa, oni, tengu… Even malicious spirits like umibozu or ningen were left to their devices, provided they did no harm. But to this rule there was an exception. Us, kitsune.”

A sigh escapes her lips. “Before humans settled here, Inazuma was primarily a mess of city-states belonging to Yokai species, constantly warring for influence and territory. Kitsune were, of course, major players. Even a single fox could strike down tens of oni or swat even the most nimble of tengu from the sky. Our power was grand, but so was our thirst for conquest. My kind would have long conquered this land if it weren't for a major burden nature left us with. Kitsune mature slowly, so slowly that replenishing losses took centuries, millennia even. Every war was a blow to our population. Vixen like me bring litters into the world, counting up to seven kits true, but we can't reproduce at will - starvation would quickly set upon us. We knew we were a dwindling race, but we didn't bother changing our disposition.”

The Guuji stands up, starting to walk up and down the room at an even pace as she recounts. “We accumulated hate, curses, hexes. We drowned in evil, but we made light of various nithings and omens. Most of those bad charms were able to be nullified, but the more we turned against our kind, the more powerful our next opponents became. Until one fateful curse befell us.”

Mizuki stays silent, a part of her surprised at Miko's voice growing ever more silent. The next words are spoken with great care, as if to avoid insulting whatever being cast that spell. 

“May your daughters forever weep, for your unborn sons and brothers shall repent for your crimes and writhe in agony within the world below. Plague shall befall your fathers and husbands and brothers and sons until only the ninth remains standing, able to raise his arm in the name of evil.” Miko says, staring out the window. “These words, clear of any hatred towards its foxian killers, were spoken by a dying kirin.” She turns, a somber expression on her face. “Indeed, it is as you think. We, kitsune, murdered a kirin. And we were punished for it.”

You stirr in your drug-induced sleep. Miko quickly comes to your side as you turn on your back. She places a hand on your pale, scarred breast. 

“That day every male was brought to his knees by an illness unlike we saw before. It acted fast, so fast that most weren't able to even go home, let alone get help. Choking to death on their own blood, clutching their throats with veiny, purple hands, they fell and died on the street, corpses soon littering every corner. They died in agony and panic, no matter who they were - a soldier, a hunter, a doctor, a farmer… All paid for something our entire race was responsible for. Not even children were spared… They… Died the quickest. Newborns died in their cribs while infants spasmed in their mother's wombs. As it said - the majority of our dogs died, leaving the nation’s vixens in maddening grief. Only one in nine males survived, and each was only decades old… Far too young to hold a spear.”

She continues, stroking your hair. “In a matter of years our society plummeted into disarray. From the lack of engineers to keep our cities whole to a dreadful absence of warriors to fend off other, vengeful races. A male birth was an event so grand that entire towns came to greet the kit. We crumbled into dust, gradually pushed back to the brink of extinction, saved only by the coming of Makoto who chose to enforce peace between the Yokai.”

Her hands roam around to yours, her index finger stroking the bruises and scratches around your wrists. “Dogs became previous. They had to be protected, at all costs. We kept them inside, we monitored their every step, rushed to their side with medicine at the smallest cough. Their extinction meant our end - we couldn't allow that. Us vixen took it to heart so much that, over the centuries, males went from priceless treasure to slaves. To goods, like gold or the purest jewels. They were trained from birth to obey, forced into a rigorous training regiment to remain healthy and appealing to their owners, and sold when the time came - for Mora or political favours. Some vixens treated their dogs well, while some enjoyed torturing them for their sick entertainment; but no matter the personal preference, we sent them a clear message - they weren't people.”

Both women remain silent; Mizuki takes in her friend's words while Miko grips your wrists gently, clenching her teeth. For what they did to you, they deserved to be treated likewise. They deserved to be fed from a bowl, to be fed raw meat, to be assaulted whenever their captors wished. To have their clothes, their children, their dignity, their foxhood stripped away. 

“They deserve to be treated like animals. For what they did.” She hisses through her teeth, feeling the sting of tears behind her eyes. Helplessness. 

“Hm?” Mizuki shakes her head out of deep thought and asks. 

“Nevermind.” Milo sighs. “There is a reason, Mizuki, that even the benevolent and kind Makoto could not bare to see what we were doing to them. She ordered our race to cease our barbarity or be gone from this land. The answer to what happened next should be obvious - most of us, noblewomen and mistresses with their entourages, families, entire clans even, left. Some of us stayed. I was, for example, abandoned at just three years of age during the exodus. Those that remained took me in, raised me to be who I am today. Our matron Hakushin was one of the fair few who did not choose to participate in this cruelty and tried to fight back when we were exiled, to wrench at least one male from the claws of her kin. Kitsune Guuji chose to live a childless life of chastity in the name of those crushes in our claws. And she failed.”

“I see. I'm… I can't even imagine what he went through. How old is he?” The baku asks. 

“Six hundred years old. Can you picture that? Six centuries of slavery, torture, rape. Six centuries of being fed like a canine, kicked away or being forced upon. Six centuries… Tens of litters, either pried from your hands or never allowed to be there in the first place. A living nightmare. A hell that, for him, was reality.” She raises up and turns back towards Mizuki. “As for what he'd been through, we shall see.”

The woman freezes. What? Surely, Miko wouldn't be willing to metaphorically crowbar his mind open and see inside…

“Oh my, I can tell what's going on inside your head, Mizuki. Are you perhaps thinking I would violate his privacy without proper cause?” Miko turns, her gloomy expression now replaced with a light smirk. “Whoever do you take me for?”

Mizuki stands up and crosses her arms. “Sure, sure. I know you have a reason, but we'll see if it's convincing enough. I never force myself into any mind, and I wouldn't make an exception for you.”

“I understand. Let me tell you, then, why this course of action is not only the best, but also the necessary one. I doubt you understand the true scale of his mind's corruption. If things were, indeed, less severe, I would have just waited for him to rest and taken him to the bath house.”

Miko leans over you and places a hand over your forehead, checking the temperature. It's normal, making her breathe a sigh of relief. 

“When I caught up to him and had the rickety old house he hid in surrounded, I went in on my own. I didn't want to scare him, you see. Y/N pounced on me from the ceiling wielding a rusty knife. I shielded myself, making him fly across the room like a rag, collapsing into some shelves. He didn't surrender though - he rose up, coughing, and attacked me with his bare hands. I had to push back yet again, but this time he fell and did not strike again. Instead, I saw tears in his eyes. The words he spoke are why you are here.”

—

“Ugh…” You clutch your chest, trying in vain to stop the blunt ache from spreading across your body. The dust and sand raised by the commotion gets into your lungs - you cough. Her pink hair pierces through the colourless cloud of dust, slowly coming closer. 

Your hand desperately pats your closest surroundings in search of a weapon. Nothing. 

“Calm down, please.” She speaks, raising both her hands in an attempt to look less threatening. But you know these tricks like the back of your hand. Even the softest of tones can carry the most hateful of words. “I don't want to hurt you.”

“Liar! Do you think I'm… Ah… Stupid enough to believe you?!” You crawl back but soon feel the woodworm-chewed wood of the hut against your skin. There is no way out, but you won't go quietly. “What is this new torture? Did you find my screams and pleads boring enough for you to invade my dreams too? Do you think that you infesting my waking life is not enough?!”

She stops, her hands lowering. You can't see her face through the dust-caused tears, but she looks… disoriented. A soft “what” reaches your ears. 

“So that's how it is, Matsui. If you think you can fool me with a simple change of face and name, you're wrong. And if you think you can rape my mind too, you're mistaken! This is my dream, I have the power here! And I can do whatever I want. I can kill you. Or I can kill myself.” You look around, spotting a dusty razor blade, half-buried under the debris. You make sure not to look at it directly. “You may hurt me in the physical world, but you won't hurt me in the only safe haven I have left. Fuck you!”

Leaping forward towards the weapon, you quickly feel your body freeze in mid air. Thin, purple lightning wraps around your wrists, arms, ankles… You're stuck. You wiggle your fingers, desperately trying to reach your way out. Your proof of agency. Your display that you can influence what happens to you, that you’re not a mindless object. This simple tool that will break her toy once and for all. 

But regardless of your desires, Miko snares you with her elemental powers, just short of the razor. An ancient painting of helplessness and dread. 

“I hate you! I hate you!” You scream, ears folding in rage. “I hate you and everything you stand for!”

Miko doesn’t respond. She simply does not know if any word could convey the feelings brewing in her mind; neither the confusion about the reason for your outburst, nor the astonishment at just what came out of your mouth, are expressible. She observes you as your malnourished body trembles with rage, with hate. Vitriol rolls freely off your tongue. You call her every single insult you know in a hopeless attempt to… Scare her, make her back off, make her react somehow. The silence confuses you… Does she not want to kick you into shutting up? Your futile resistance against the bindings falters, wrath turning into hopeless sadness. Yet again you feel tears rolling down your face. 

“H-hate you… W-why…”

Your body is lowered back onto the floor and you immediately fall limp. The world, your past, your future and your present overwhelm your senses. You don’t want this, you never did. You didn’t plead in the face of Gods to let you come into this world, experience neither the pleasures, nor the pains of what surrounds you. You cannot deal with this yourself. You cannot be a hero. You cannot be an example that it’s possible, that you can endure anything and live on. You’re weak. 

So weak and witless that you can’t even kill yourself. 

You hear her shuffle closer to you. Normally you would move away from her, dodge her touch as best as you could. But this time your hands wrap around her loose sleeves and pull them closer. Before long your face nuzzles into her chest, attempting to hide from the world, even behind the one that hurt you so much. She strokes your hair, softly speaking to you in an attempt to ease your nerves, fruitlessly. Because, sobbing, you realise why you cling onto her so much. Even after she broke your tails, even after she broke your ribs, branded you, starved and humiliated and assaulted and belittled and objectified you. 

It’s because you have nobody else. 

Only her. Only Matsui. 

—

Mizuki listens intently to Miko’s report, her mind already picking apart your words and analysing it for potential basis. Her conclusions come swiftly and decidedly. 

“Derealisation”, she says. “Clear signs of post traumatic stress disorders, suicidal ideation and rock-bottom self esteem. Nod-Krai syndrome.”

“I’m unfamiliar with that. What does it mean?” Miko sits by your side, eyes boring into your unconscious face with a vague, hateful expression. She wants to hug you, shelter you from the world like she did just hours ago. But she would much more tear out the throat of Matsui, whoever she was - sky kitsune or a lowly fox, it did not matter. 

“Nod-Krai was conquered by the Cryo Archon, who quickly began decisive repressions against the local culture and ethnic identity.” Mizuki explains. “However, thanks to circumstances, local power play and propaganda, the native people of the land became thankful and loyal to their oppressor, the destroyer of altars and the murderer of entire villages. In the same exact way, Y/N seems to cling to Matsui - in this case, believing you’re her in disguise, despite everything she did to him in the past.”

Miko clenches her other hand, keeping the one on your shoulder soft and open. She nods. “I understand.”

There’s a moment of silence before the baku picks up the conversation. 

“Would you let me examine him?” She stands up. “I might not be a trained medic, but I think I can pick up some things you might have missed.”

The other woman, having shaken off the gloom of her memory, sends her friend a playfully indignant expression. 

“With respect to your own skill, Lady Guuji.” 

Miko smiles. “Ah, such compliments. In that case, you may have a look.”

Mizuki nods in thanks and takes the spot just freed by her host. Your defences seemed rather timid - the reason could be simple restraint or mercy, but judging by Miko’s accounts of your mistrust and paranoia, something else was at play. She guides her finger closer to your lips and carefully lifts up your lip, revealing perfectly tended, pristine teeth. Upon a closer look, she notices what exactly stands out among them. 

“His canines. They are filed down, see?” She opens your jaw a little, revealing just how even your teeth are, deprived of the four points in the corners. “The ends are imperfectly flat and there are small chips on the inside of each tooth. It could have been done with a simple nail file… I barely see red, meaning they must have been fairly long before.”

Ignoring the chills running down her spine from the mental image for curiosity’s sake, Miko leans in to get a better look. “Isn’t the pulp inside the entire tooth?”

“It is.” Mizuki nods. “But here it has a large circumference, meaning this is the base of the tooth.” Her own teeth hurt as if in solidarity with yours. “By the Shogun, I pray he wasn’t awake for this…”

Miko refrains from speaking to avoid words unbefitting of the Guuji slipping from her lips. The psychologist’s eyes wander down to your hands. The sight of perfectly clipped nails, so much so that they end with not the thinnest of white lines, seems odd to her. Surely after an extensive journey to Narukami Island by sea, and presumably no manicure from Miko, they would have grown even a little bit. She takes your left index finger into her hand and pauses right away. The nail… It’s not tough. To verify her suspicion, she scratches at it with her own fingernails, only to find that they meet no resistance. What’s more, something brown flakes off. Mizuki does this some more and proceeds to gather up the shavings onto her palm, turning around and presenting it to Miko. 

“Can you please tell me what they smell like?” She asks. “I touched his fingernails and they flaked off.”

Without question, Miko lifts Mizuki’s hand up to her nose and takes a careful whiff.

“Hm…” She muses. “His scent, sweat and… Leather? Yes. Tanned leather, the sort used for shoes.”

“Then it is just as I had feared. Miko, I think he’s been… Declawed, in a manner of speaking.” She presses your fingers into her arms, as hard as she can, but she feels no toughness digging into her skin. 

Miko’s heart begins to beat faster. “Declawed? Like a cat, you say? How is that even possible if he is in human form? Human nails grow all the time…”

“That’s a good question. I’d guess that the techniques they used to subdue dogs became advanced enough to do that. Even if it’s impossibly cruel… It’s impressive.” She shows your hand to Miko. “These painted strips of leather do look like normal fingernails.”

Your caretaker glances at your hand, then back at your peaceful face. It seems like your owners didn’t like their toy having any capability to fight back, or just show displeasure. Like a cat that paws anybody in defence or a dog, biting its cruel owner, you were stripped of your natural defences. She can already imagine it wasn’t enough - judging by how you acted, they tried to remove your very instinct to oppose and protect yourself. If not for this episode of confusion between dreams and the waking world, would she never see you fight back? Never see you refuse, stand your ground, all because whatever you could use was taken away and your mind was washed with cruelty and abuse to be unable to comprehend consent, self-preservation?

Most importantly…

Was this done to you right away, or as punishment…?

“I want to know. I want to see what he experienced.” Miko says, her brow furrowing. “He might not be able to tell me, but I must know. I must understand.”

Mizuki nods. “Give me a moment. We’ll see soon enough.”

In Miko’s gaze, resting on your limp, nailless, tortured hand, there is a promise. 

She’s coming for you. 

She’ll pick up the pieces and put you back together, however shattered you might be. 

Thanks for reading!

okay, but... jackie taylor with reader! princess treatment? reader just loves sitting on her lap while wearing a cute short skirt and pretty ass, having jackie's arms around her, giving her a kiss with lip gloss when she wins a game, looking at her with big eyes and a cute pout ... just princess treatment?

i really love your work!

god….jackie taylor princess treatment, save me!! save me jackie taylor princess treatment!!

jackie taylor lives to spoil you.

she’s got an arm slung around your waist at all times, fingers resting just beneath the hem of your shirt to have a feel of your skin. she never lets you walk on the outside of the sidewalk, she opens doors for you without a second thought, and if you so much as shiver, she's already draping her varsity jacket over your shoulders, murmuring, “can't have my girl getting cold, can i?”

it’s fair to say that she is obsessed with you. and jackie doesn't even try to hide it.

it’s obvious to everyone around in the way she pulls you into her lap the second you're close enough, her arms wrapping around your waist like she owns you. she doesn't care where you are (on the bleachers after practice, at a party, even in the middle of the cafeteria if there's space) you're sitting on her, not next to her.

“you're so clingy,” you tease one afternoon, even as you settle comfortably against her, your skirt riding up just a little when you shift in her lap.

jackie’s hands squeeze your hips. “and?”

“nothing,” you say. “i like it!”

if she's not actively pulling you into her lap, she's tucking loose strands of hair behind your ear, playing with your fingers, kissing your temple just because she can. jackie even carries your bag after school, waits for you after class, and lets you steal her clothes even though she knows you only wear them so people will see.

and after a big game? there is no stopping her: even sweaty, breathless, and radiating victory, all jackie wants is you.

the second she sees you waiting for her near the sidelines, she beams, racing right over, gripping your waist, pulling you in.

jackie barely has time to catch her breath before you cup her face, press a sticky-sweet, glossy kiss to her lips, and pull back just enough to admire your work. a perfect pink layer left behind, her lips glittering with it.

"you taste like strawberries," she murmurs, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth.

you flush, curling further into her as the other yellowjackets begin to catch up. jackie just grins, keeping you right where you belong: wrapped up in her arms, pressed against her like she never wants to let go. (which, truthfully, she doesn’t…)

— nsfw below the cut. mdni.

okay but now i‘m thinking…jackie finger fucking you in her lap…? because, if you think about it, that also counts as princess treatment, right…?

maybe you’ve convinced her to let you do her make up or something:

at first, you’re confused as to why she would agree to this at all: jackie is definitely better at doing makeup than you, and hates when somebody messes with her face like that.

it only really dawns upon you when you’re already sitting on her lap: here you are, in the shortest little skirt, looking all cute and focused, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you reach for a brush.

no wonder jackie actually wanted this.

no wonder she’s got no sense of self control now.

her hands drift to your thighs, fingertips teasing along the hem of your skirt. just barely at first, featherlight touches that make you squirm but don't fully distract you as you reach for a brush.

but she doesn't stop there. she squeezes your thighs, her fingers pressing into soft flesh as she watches you try to ignore her.

“jackie,” you warn, not yet looking down.

jackie hums, all innocent. “hmm?”

“you’re distracting me,” you murmur, dipping the brush into the powder, trying to refocus. but, god, it’s hard when she trails her fingers up until she’s squeezing your ass.

“am i?”

you turn her chin slightly to apply the blush. “yes”

jackie, completely unbothered, presses a lingering kiss to your wrist, then the inside of it, then your palm. before you can react, she’s already leaning up, catching your lips in a kiss as well.

you sigh against her mouth, your hands sliding into her hair as the brush clatters to the floor.

as easy as that, and all your resolve is gone, replaced by arousal when jackie reaches between your legs. when she catches your eyes, tilts her head, and waits for the breathless nod before pushing your panties to the side, moaning as if she could feel actual pleasure from the way her fingers slide through your wetness.

it’s not long after that, that you find yourself propped up above jackie, most of your weight resting on your knees, one hand on the headboard, as she pounds her fingers into you. you don’t even have to do anything at all, she’s doing the work for you, wetness gushing down her arm.

“just like that,” jackie praises as the hem of your skirt bounces with each thrust. her free hand lingers on your lower back, supporting you in your current position and her face is covered in your lipgloss, chin and jaw glistening with it over a thin layer of sweat.

“come on,” she encourages, leaning back on her elbows to get a better look at you, her fingers stilling inside of your throbbing cunt.

it is up to you to take pleasure from her now.

later, you will be embarrassed by how fast you switch to riding her fingers…

Happy Hallowayne (a toddler!batsis Halloween special)

Part 1 - Prepare for trouble…

Things had been calm in Wayne matter for the majority of October

No major accidents had happened during patrol or outside

Bruce and Selina hadn’t had any of their occasional existential crisis where one of them thought that the other would be better off without them or vice versa

Jason hadn’t started a fight with Bruce

Damian hadn’t seriously stabbed someone

and generally the siblings had been getting along well

then halfway throughout the month - once the carved pumpkins and spooky scary skeletons appeared - Dick had the idea

This was the first time in ages that the entire family was a) alive, b) in contact and c) not on missions and at the ripe age of six, you we’re finally at an age where (with enough protection and safety measures) you would be allowed to finally go trick and treating

And not only that, Dick thought, this year they’d finally get around to throwing a halloween party just for them and their friends without any of the rich snobs that usually appeared at Galas

Quick as a flash Dick had gotten almost all of his siblings on board

Damian was acting rather indifferent even though on the inside he was somewhat curious about the whole ordeal since it would be one of the first times he’d be able to do something like that

Jason loved the idea just so he could keep his title as the best prankster in the family (something very controversially discussed between the children), since halloween was probably the best time for that

Tim had originally planned to just chill at his flat, watch some scary movies and eat all the candy he could get his hands on, but Dick’s proposal sounded like it would end in family chaos and he couldn’t think of any movie that would be more entertaining than that

Cassandra - while familiar with the concept of Halloween - wasn’t all to interested in it, but then Steph had talked to her about all the cool couple costumes they could do and since making her best friend happy made her happy she was down

Duke and Barbara were both all for a nice halloween get together because they both didn’t really have anything better to do and for Duke especially it would be one of the first times he’d get to spend a special day with his family without any… trouble

And for the littlest Wayne… well

once you had gotten wind of it, immediately being over the moon just at the thought of getting to dress up all fancy in a costume and getting to go around just for people to give you candy? for free? Yes, you were all in for the idea and you were basically buzzing with energy and excitement just minutes after he had told

There was no way they were gonna let you be disappointed after having seen your smile just at the idea

Now while growing up the way you did, you were incredibly good at hiding secrets from other people for a six year old, but you weren’t the best at being able to decide what you actually needed to keep to yourself until someone told you, so when your mother came into the room right after Dick had told you about the idea you immediately jumped over to her and told her all about it

Selina smiled at you and then looked at Dick with a raised eyebrow, effectively communicating her interest and doubt about the whole ordeal

“Mommy, mommy, will you dress up too?” you asked her with shining eyes and at that moment she also decided that this was probably a good idea

“Well of course I will, it wouldn’t be a halloween party if we weren’t all dressed up right?”

“So dad will too?”

Cue to dick imagining the usual stoic Bruce in a cliche halloween costume

he couldn’t decide what idea he liked most: Bruce in a cheap skeleton costume or Bruce dressed up as a ghost

in the end he decided the funniest image was that of his dad wearing a badly made superman costume

of course Bruce himself didn’t actually know about the party in planning yet - or had approved it for that matter, but there was one step that was by far more important than telling him

They had to convince the one with whom the idea would either rise - or fall: Alfred

“So, who is going to ask him?” Dick wondered aloud as he walked through the main living room with you peacefully slumbering in his arms. Having all agreed to help out with his Halloween-plans, quite a few members of the family had gathered - in fact it was almost surprising that no bomb had blown up yet with how things usually went when so many of them were present. Sitting, standing and lying all throughout the room were Dick and you - as mentioned before - Selina who was nursing a cup of tea with Alfred the cat cozily lying on her lap on an armchair, Cass, Steph and Tim were playing uno on the floor, Jason and Damian were each sitting on one of the sofas each cleaning their respective weapons and Duke and Barbara had been deep in conversation before Dick had spoken up, gaining all of their attention (except yours, still sleeping peacefully). Even though no one in the room vocally answered his question, all eyes immediately wandered over to Selina. Without so much as a sense of urgency, she took another sip of tea before shaking her head softly with a small smile. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I won’t take that upon myself, I’m willing to help you out with this, but that is something I cannot do.” “Why not? Alfred will listen to you.” “Probably, but - and call me selfish - I’d rather not be on the receiving end of all that is to come if this all blows over,” she shrugged and brought the cup back up to her lips, finished with her explanation. “So, Cassandra, my dearest sister-” Dick turned to the next person he thought would get Alfred to agree. “No,” she immediately rebutted. The oldest brother was about to turn to Barbara when he realized that almost everyone was looking at him with different levels of raised eyebrows and quickly figured out what was going on. “You all want me to do it, don’t you?” “I mean it was you’re idea after all you know,” Jason clapped him on the back in support, leaned down to give you a soft kiss on your forehead and left, being followed by most of the others.

So yeah it was Dick (and you since he had to at least have some secret weapon with him) who had to go through the final phase of bringing the plan in motion

He wasn’t sure what he expected to happen, but he assumed Alfred would have at least some level of resistance to his proposal

Instead, Alfred excitedly picked you up and began telling you about all the things he could bake and cook and how he’d decorate the ballroom and how glad he’d be to finally plan something different than a formal gala, especially if the whole family would attend

Dick was just left dumbfounded, but soon the excitement set in

oh yeah… the plan was in full motion now

also Bruce found out about it by pure coincidence when Alfred had him sign off on which decoration to buy and had to explain the whole thing since no one had remembered

Keep reading

Hi may I please make a request? Neglectful Batfam (especially Dick, I don't know if the others would say it) always tell reader something along the line of "I'm sorry, you understand right?" after yet another forgotten promise of family time etc. Reader, genuinely yearning for the Batfam's affection, feels hurt but always tries to understand and makes excuses for them. It's only their best friend, a fellow civilian, who insists over and over again that reader deserves better, that no matter how well-intentioned the Batfam still does neglect reader, etc. One day the two have a huge fight over this and reader's best friend storms off only to be kidnapped by a rogue. Reader gets kidnapped too, but to their horror discovers finds that the rogue *also* has the Batfam and tells reader to choose: Their best friend or their family? While the Batfam takes it for granted that reader would choose them, while reader's best friend despairs that especially after their fight there's no way reader would've... Surprising even their own self, reader turns towards Batfam to say, genuinely apologetic, "I'm sorry, you understand right?"

Bonus the aftermath when the Batfam has successfully freed themselves and goes to confront reader, who's still *genuinely* happy about it but more preoccupied making up with their best friend uwu

Family dinner was scheduled for 7 PM.

You arrived at 6:55 with homemade cookies, wearing the sweater Damian said he liked. The manor was dark. Empty. Again.

A text came through at 7:48.

Dick: “Sorry, patrol ran long. Rain check? You understand, right?”

You sat at the dinner table alone, the cookies cooling beside your untouched plate. You did understand. You always did.

Bruce had work. Jason had intel. Tim passed out at his desk. Cass was chasing a lead. And Dick—your big brother figure, your once-upon-a-time constant—was off somewhere saving strangers with a grin while forgetting you.

They didn’t mean to hurt you. They were heroes. Protecting the city.

You understood… right?

Your best friend didn’t.

“You keep letting them walk all over you,” they snapped one night, pacing your bedroom. “You act like it’s okay just because they say sorry. It’s not.”

“They’re trying,” you defended, voice small.

“No. You’re trying. You’re always the one reaching out. Always the one forgiving. And they just assume you’ll wait around like some backup plan. You deserve better, [Y/N]. You deserve someone who puts you first.”

The words stung. Worse than anything the Batfam ever forgot.

And so you yelled. Defensive. Hurt. “They’re my family!”

“And I’m not?!”

The silence was louder than the shouting.

Your best friend’s face crumbled, lips trembling with words they refused to say. They grabbed their coat and left.

They didn’t even slam the door.

You hadn’t spoken since the fight.

And then they went missing.

Reported last seen two nights ago, no signs of struggle—just gone.

Panic cracked your chest open. You reached out to the Batfam for help. They said they were working on it. That you should rest. That they were close.

You didn’t rest.

Then you went missing.

Black bag over your head. Cold cement under your knees. And when the bag was pulled off—

You weren’t alone.

The rogue—a madman with a grudge against Gotham’s capes—had caged you, your best friend, and the entire Batfam. Their gear had been stripped, the cells lined with suppression tech. They were helpless.

And the rogue? Smiling like a devil.

“One choice,” he said. “Your best friend or your family. One lives. The other dies. You have sixty seconds.”

Your best friend’s face paled.

“Don’t choose me,” they whispered. “You don’t have to—I’m sorry for what I said. I love you, I just… I wanted you to see how much you’re worth.”

The Batfam said nothing at first.

Then Dick muttered, “C’mon, kid… you know who your real family is.”

Tim nodded solemnly. “We raised you.”

Jason, gruff: “You’re one of us.”

Bruce said your name like it was a command.

They all assumed.

Of course you’d choose them.

You turned toward them—quiet, trembling.

And then you smiled, sad and soft.

“I’m sorry,” you said, voice breaking. “You understand, right?”

They froze.

Your eyes were already on your best friend, who looked like they'd just been punched in the heart.

“You’re choosing me?”

“I’m saving you,” you whispered. “I’m sorry we fought. I’m sorry I made you feel second. You never were.”

Tears slipped down their cheeks. They reached for you through the bars. “I thought you hated me.”

“I don’t think I could if I tried.”

The rogue cackled. “What a twist!”

He didn’t get to finish the show. Because a moment later, Bat-tech sparked. Cass had pretended to be unconscious long enough to hack the suppressors. Bruce broke the cell doors. Jason tackled the rogue to the ground with a crunch.

Everyone got out alive.

But something shifted.

The aftermath

The Batfam came to see you the next day—bloody, bandaged, guilty.

Dick sat beside you, quiet for once.

“I didn’t realize how much we’ve been… neglecting you,” he admitted. “I guess I assumed you'd always be there.”

“I always was,” you said, no bitterness in your tone. “Even when you weren’t.”

He flinched.

Bruce looked at you. “You made the right choice.”

“I know,” you said, smiling as your best friend walked into the room with warm soup and a shy wave.

You lit up. "You're here!"

They blinked. “Of course. I owed you soup.”

You reached for their hand and held it like an anchor.

The Batfam watched from the corner, speechless, as you giggled softly with your best friend—glowing in a way you hadn’t around them for a long time.

You weren’t angry.

You were just finally choosing you.

And someone who had never once needed to say “you understand, right?”—because they did.

Surviving The Wilderness

Pairings: yellowjackets x reader

Summary: With how much effort you had put in trying to look after the group as the seasons start to change, you get dubbed the unofficial mom of the team. Find request here.

Winter was on the horizon. Temperatures were starting to drop even further during the night and daylight hours were shortening with each day that had passed. With no foreseeable chance of rescue happening any time soon, the group had to prepare for the oncoming harshness of the next season. 

There was only so much you could do with having very little to begin with but you were trying your best, as was everyone else. At first it was just the menial tasks that you had double downed on, the chores everyone had already been doing in order to get by.

The pile of firewood stood tall and proud in the attic of the cabin. You had buddied yourself up with Tai to collect as much dry wood as the two of you could. There wasn’t a shortage of wood out in the wilderness but it would mean spending less time out in the cold for necessities when it came to it.

You had also started out marking out all of the spots for potential food. Colder temperatures didn’t immediately mean there’d be nothing available to eat, or at least you hoped, but you figured knowing where food could grow would be important for when it became a scarcity. You weren't sure what you were going to do if the snow rolled in early but you didn’t like thinking about that. 

You had paired yourself up with Misty for your impromptu foraging trip. The girl knew an uncanny amount of facts about mushrooms and berry bushes, the whole sorts. While you were out there, you used a copy of one of Natalies maps she had made while out hunting to mark off all the potential spots for food. The two of you also took the chance to gather what you could to add to the rations. Food was the main concern for everyone at the moment. 

Misty had talked your ear off the entire day. She was probably excited that someone had actually sought out her company. It was rather endearing when she got excited by the sight of a specific mushroom and how serious she would suddenly turn when warning you not to touch a specific plant you’d stumble across. 

While you had entertained her rambles and managed to learn a thing or two about how to spot a poison berry from a safe one, you didn’t know how to keep up with all her energy. You were kind of thankful for the quietness of the cabin that night.

Preparations for winter weren’t the only thing on your mind. You liked keeping up the morale of the team, being a shoulder to lean on for anyone who needed it, or a person to confide in. It brought a smile to your own face when you managed to make one of your friends smile. It was what you were there for. 

Jackie had pulled you aside from the campfire you were all perched around outside, telling you she needed to talk to you about something important. You were in the middle of learning how to whittle with a few of the other girls but a small break wouldn’t hurt anyone, you’d catch back up when you got back. 

“You’ve really stepped up out here.” Jackie was proud of the efforts you had put in, you were holding up surprisingly well. “Thank you for being the leader I couldn’t be.”

Jackie had especially seemed to be struggling with the adjustment of being stranded out in the wilderness. You couldn’t see it at first, not when she was the most hopeful about getting rescued, doing the most she could to keep her team up and going but the longer she stayed out here, the more that sparked dampened. 

As much as her comment made you proud of your own achievements, it also struck a chord within you. 

“Hey, it’s not easy out here but you’re trying your best and that's what matters, right?” You offered her a reassuring smile. You couldn’t blame her for not adjusting so quickly. The chain of jarring events you had all been through over the past few weeks wasn’t easy to get over.

“It feels like I'm losing my mind out here.” Jackie tried to crack a smile but you could tell it was forced. 

“You’re not the only one going a little crazy out here, you don’t have to cope through this alone.” You reached out to her and enveloped her in a comforting embrace that she immediately leaned into. You hoped she’d remember that. She never had to do anything alone. You were still a team.

The two of you stayed like that for an extended moment. You felt like she needed this so you weren’t going to pull back until she did.

“You’re a really great friend.” Jackie mumbled into your shoulder.

“I’ve got your back, alright? We’ll get through it. All of us will.” Even if it wasn’t easy.

The stillness of the cabin after sundown was always something that unnerved you for some reason. You didn’t like prolonged moments of silence but sometimes everyone was too exhausted after a long day and they didn’t have the energy to keep themselves entertained. 

The first time you had brought up the idea of telling each other stories at night, it wasn’t so well received but you were determined to provide some sort of entertainment.

“Bedtime stories? Seriously? What are you, my mom?” Taissa  mocked.

“Your mom still reads you bedtime stories?” Van jestered.

“Shut up.” Taissa rolled her eyes at Van's joke. That wasn’t what she meant.

“It doesn’t have to be some fairytale woe it can be about anything. Have some fun making up your own world or something.” You tried reasoning with them, seeing the potential in the fun that could come from such a thing. You didn’t see the harm in indulging in your creative sides again, even for something a little silly and childish. It’d let you be teenagers again and not just survivors.

“I think I’ve got something.” The look on Van’s face had Taissa groaning and that could only mean one thing. Whatever the girl had in mind was going to be the most ridiculous and therefore amusing story you would ever hear. 

Since then, storytelling with Van every other night or so practically became a nighttime routine. Sometimes it was the smaller things that counted, the silly things that kept everyone looking forward. Everyone would huddle around the fireplace wrapped up in their blankets while you and Van sat on your chairs telling stories, some a little spooky the others pure comedy gold.

The days were only becoming shorter as each one had passed. The looming threat of winter hanging over you all but you were keen on making it your job to make sure each and every one of your teammates would make it through the next season. You’d be there for them every step of the way, no matter what they needed.

Supplying everyone with proper winter attire was next up on your agenda. You had become everyone's self appointed tailor so to speak. There was a spare suitcase in the makeshift pantry room of the cabin where everyone had spared a few things for anyone to take for grabs. You picked off a few stray buttons from the case and a small selection of spare material from clothing, making sure to leave plenty left for anyone else too.

Everyone had their own clothes they could layer themselves up in when it came to that so luckily you didn’t have to worry too much about that. If you had to, you’d remind anyone who was going outside for a prolonged period to remember to take a headscarf with them. 

You had done your best sewing a couple of pairs of gloves, especially for Natalie and Travis who were going to be out in the cold the most as they were the appointed hunters of the group. With what you had, you managed to make a few pairs and one of them was even an adjustable size by threading the button that held the pieces together through a different hole of the three you had poked through. That way everyone would have something that fit them.

You hoped the pair you made for Travis was the right size, you couldn’t exactly use your own measurements from your hands for his gloves. “Try these on for me?” He was surprised when you had approached him, offering up the items of clothing to him.

“What are these for?” Despite his question, he took the gloves from your hand.

“For when you go hunting with Nat.” You explained like it was obvious. “You two are outside the most out of all of us so I figured I should make sure you at least stay warm out there.”

They probably had one of the most important jobs, keeping everyone fed. You couldn't afford them falling ill or anything like that. You noticed that they had already been waking up earlier to get out in the early morning and while you wanted to applaud their efforts in feeding the group, it did worry you a little that they were sacrificing so much rest and walking about in the dark so you figured you'd look after them the only way you knew how.

“Yeah, I'll be using these. Thanks.” Luckily the gloves fit him pretty well as he wiggled his fingers around to test the amount of movement he had in them.

“Stay safe out there.” You nodded curtly with a proud smile on your face, happy that the gift turned out well.

It was when Natalie and Travis kept coming back from their hunting trips empty handed more and more often that you really kicked into gear. Things started to feel a little more real to you then, like there really was something to worry about or fuss over. Being cold and bored was one thing but starving out here was another. You had to find a way to keep everyone well nourished.

In order to do that, tea had become the next thing you tried to master. Everyone liked tea, right? It may not have been the most filling thing but with the right ingredients it would have a good amount of the necessary nutrients to keep you going. Plus it didn't take too many resources to make which made it accessible to drink daily.

This was the third evening you had gone around the group offering up your cups of tea. The one you had made this time was tinted with mixed berries seeing as Misty had gone to you with what was left over. She didn’t want them to go to waste and they couldn’t be stored away for much longer or else they’d go off so she figured you could make use of them.

“Didn’t take you for such a tea connoisseur.” Shauna teased, then getting nudged in the side by Jackie who mumbled something about how you were just being nice. 

Making tea was something new to you and not every pot came out perfect but oddly enough you enjoyed making a new batch every time.

“Here, Nat, you’re shivering.” You offered up a fresh cup of hot berry tea to her, knowing it could help warm her up. 

“It’s fine, really, I’m good.” She held up her hand in a gentle refusal, brushing your offer off but that only made you catch sight of her pink fingertips. She had been out all day with the shotgun, maybe it was already getting colder than you thought.

Despite her words, you pushed the cup into her open hand and she couldn’t help but sigh in relief at the warmth it brought to her cold hand. Maybe your offer wasn’t such a bad one after all. You smiled triumphantly when she took the mug from you and started sipping away at the drink.

“Wait there a moment.” There wasn’t much reason for Nat to be going anywhere now that she had the chance to relax but you wanted to make sure she stayed put. Seconds later you came back with one of the blankets and you draped it over her shoulders for her, making sure it stayed in place over her body to preserve as much heat as possible.

“You’re such a mom, y’know that?” Natalie raised an eyebrow at your coddling and your cheeks tinted pink when her comment earned a few chuckles from around the group. That wasn’t the first time you had been compared to a mom by one of the girls, you hoped you weren’t doing too much. 

Ironically, it was one of the moments Nat had felt most cared for, she hardly had a problem with your naturing ways. She didn’t get that sort of treatment back home. 

“Well I’m not letting you freeze to death on me.” You justified your actions sheepishly but the moment Nat sent you a gentle smile, you relaxed. She didn’t actually seem to mind the fact you were fussing over her.

Another day brought another cold night. You had made sure the fireplace was lit up enough to last for as long as it could throughout the night. “Does everyone have enough blankets?” You asked the group before you let yourself settle down in your own makeshift bed. It was better to check before you tucked yourself in.

“Yes mom.” Shauna goaded, earning a huff from you, and a few snickers sounded out throughout the room. The newly appointed nickname was coming up more and more recently.

“Hey! You’ll be thanking me when I save your asses from your reckless selves.” You loved your team, you really did, but some of them really lacked the self preservation that they needed out here and someone needed to take care of them.

Shauna waved off your comment and seeing as no one had complained about being too cold, you let yourself settle down in your own bundle of blankets that was placed next to Lotties. 

“You’re doing a good job at looking after all of them.” Lottie appraised you, having taken note of your continuous efforts. 

“I want to make sure everyone else makes it through this.” You could only hope your actions would pay off. 

“You’re the best mom I could ask for.” Lottie’s smile wasn’t one of mockery, it was of appreciation and you finally found yourself laughing along with the joke. Maybe being the appointed caretaker wasn’t so bad.

Hi! Sorry if this is weird or anything, this is my first time sending an ask lol

But I just finished reading your writing about the singer/influencer reader and omfg I love your brain. Like imagine the reader did a cover of/wrote like spit in my face by ThxSoMch or Cigarette Ahegao by Penelope Scott (love her sm btw-) cause just imagine the GUILTTT

Imagine the Batfam listening to their music and just hearing the bitterness in their voice as they sing “Screwing everything up, doing everything wrong, In my defence I wasn’t supposed to be around this long, so” HGDECANZZKNFBVD

Anyway, I love your writing and I hope you have an absolutely amazing week! Take care of yourself too- drink water, eat some food and try to get some sleep ml <3

Nah anon you're cool. I love reading asks. ALSO credits to Luludelulusramblings, they made the originally made Influencer reader. Batfam belongs to DC as usual. Singer reader post: here

You know, in the Art History year 1901-1904, Picasso started the Blue Period where he only painted in the shades of Blue. It started due to the death of his friend, later his financial struggles, and of course the current state of the society. Blue Period art was so good but so doleful and depressing that no one wants to hang it in their house. Singer! Reader started their career covering mainstream songs, band songs, maybe even vocaloid. 

Their blue period started months before they planned to leave the manor. It was a simple cover of MARINA’s ‘Are you satisfied?’ A lot of burnt out overachievers ate that cover, even Tim himself. The song is basically the reader questioning the Wayne last name. Sure it was a goldmine to others but to them it’s a ticket to misery. One song cover turned into many song covers, enough to make a long playlist to play at 3 a.m. when you’re about to have a breakdown. 

The whole playlist? Batfam avoids it because it reminds them of the times they could have been giving you love but they didn’t BUT at the same time they can’t really avoid it. It became like those guilty pleasures playlist. Damian loves and hates reader’s ‘The Family Jewels’ cover because it reminds him of the fact that he and the reader are basically on the same boat. They were just children who needed attention and love. He got that attention and love immediately because of the whole league of assassins backstory. He won’t admit it but the weight of the role weighs like tonnes of iron on his shoulders. 

Jason, Bruce and Cigarette Ahegao will roll together so much. That man has twice the amount of trauma Bruce had and his coping mechanism sucks. All the aggressiveness was just a coping mechanism, underneath he’s a man with conflicted feelings and those years of being dead and suddenly being resurrected didn’t help. Let’s face it Bruce is a tired man who lives a double life. He's a man who dresses up like as a bat making sure the city is safe but he can't cover all grounds. The neglect on reader was unintentional but neglect is neglect.

Dick with reader’s cover of ‘Stressed out’ by Twenty one pilots, no explanation needed. ‘This is me trying’ by Taylor Swift with Cassandra, Stephanie, and Tim. Cassandra and Stephanie being raised by villains and Tim being an overachiever to have his parent’s attention. His parents being always away and realizing he basically did the same thing to the reader by making them feel invisible. 

Double guilt if they left the playlist on autoplay and ‘Daddy issues’ plays. Any version but I think the original fits the bill. Reader ends their blue period with a cover of Mother Mother’s ‘Burning Pile’ basically saying ‘Yeah fuck it, it’s over. I’m burning it, I’m leaving it, I’m closing the chapter’. But to the Batfamily, it meant renewal and turning a new leaf, an invitation to make things better.

I don't know if you write for Jackie but she's so pookie so Imma send it

Imagine like, loser!Jackie having the biggest crush on the reader and just being a mess trying to be confident around them to impress them, but just failing at that (reader is obviously endeared with this type of behaviour from Jackie)

loser behavior - Jackie Taylor

—

“She’s staring at you again”, your friend spoke to you as your eyes trailed to her.. Jackie Taylor The yellowjackets captian.. she has been staring at you for the whole hour she was to distracted by you. .. you knew what she was doing, ''you should try and talk to her'', shaking your head before you tried to speak the bell rang for the next class.your math class wasnt so bad but jackie was sitting next to you. ''hey did you know im the captain of the yellowjackets'' she tried to impress you her eyes looking into your, laughing at her and smiled at her, ''i know Jackie'' smiling at the captain, she was the biggest loser and you loved it.

Jackie Taylor was once again looking at you she watched everything you did write,laugh,walk… man you were a real life Disney character — she was in a trance.. your eyes trailed to Jackie who was staring at you again, “hm?” Humming at her Jackie blushed at you and played with her hands nervously, it wasn’t the first time she was near you - quiet for a moment she opened her mouth trying to find the right words to say to you. ''your boobs are nice'' fuck did she just say that to you.. ''huh?'' tilting your head at jackie.. she was a nervous wreck right now ''i mean do you wanna go hang out after school its kinda like a datebutiwouldntmindijustwantedtoaskyou'' nodding at her laughing ''sure i would love to jackie see ya after school'' you had left class leaving jackie alone in her thoughts who was cheering in victory like the gay loser she is

Reader is implied to like feminine things, though gender identity is kept ambiguous.

Damian was a good brother. That’s what he always told himself. He was a good brother, a good son. He was cold, rude, and erudite, but he was able and willing to help anyone who needed it.

When he arrived at Wayne manor, Bruce told him the general run down of why you were to be avoided when it came to anything vigilante related. You were still pure, a year younger than Damian but without any of the pain. The only one in the Wayne manor that could have a shot at becoming a normal person. Damian envied that, but kept it to himself. His anger often boiled to the top, drops of green venom dripping from his mouth when you tried to annoy him into spending time with you.

Your complaints of him ignoring you was scalding water on his already raw nerves. Why would you complain about not being the center of attention for five damn seconds? He would trade anything for the life you had. A life where you could lay around after school and never worry about a rogue bullet lodging itself in your arm, or a poisonous plant releasing psychedelic spores into an open wound.

You could and would never join the Robins. You were weak; it was in your blood. Always sickly, always the pacifist. You wouldn't survive a day in his life. And you weren't living his life; you were living his dream.

But apparently the effort the family was putting in wasn’t enough.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed that the manor felt… off about two weeks before the fight with Joker. He couldn’t trace it for the life of him at first. When he realized by the second week that he hadn’t spoken to you in days, or really seen you around the manor at all, he wrote off the worms writhing in his stomach. You must’ve been busy with a class assignment and had little time to annoy him with your demands of time together.

After the fight, however, he was a war of a thousand emotions. How dare you leave them? Why would you turn away an easy life fat on nepotism for a group of murderers, con men, the dredges of Gotham’s society?

Were you truly that desperate to be acknowledged that you’d turn your back on the family who did everything for you? He hopes you’re happy there, since you were clearly so upset at not being given attention.

Over time, however, things start to change. A few days after Jason made a full recovery, Damian looked at one of the drones Tim managed to get a chunk of code from. It took a lot of trial and error, and the development of an entirely new program to grab some of the code before it bricked itself, and enough all nighters and energy drinks that any doctor would faint, but it was managed. The code was dense, optimized to work with the least bloat possible, well tagged variables, and even a handful of comments in the code.

//Buy Bane those Boston Donuts from the donut shop on 5th //Why does this code need to be here so it doesn’t auto brick itself. What is in the code protecting it from the wrath of God //Louie likes Texas barbecue ribs. Possible treat? //DO NOT FEED THEM WHOLE RIBS. COOKED BONES BAD. //SINCE WHEN WAS THIS VARIABLE A STRING??? IT WAS AN INT 5 LINES AGO //Help the hopeless lesbians get together. //Would Harley and Ivy dating make Harley my mom or Ivy my big sister? Both???

His eyes skimmed the retrieved comments, laughing at a few. It seems that Bane, Poison Ivy, and Harley Quinn were the most common subjects of the notes, though a few mentioning the Iceberg lounge asking what non-alchoholic drink you’d like added, or Riddler offering you another puzzle to keep your mind active. Even Joker was mentioned, though it seemed mostly transactional.

It was strange seeing you in this light. You seemed to have a lot of spice in you, but a heart made of gold. You were definitely surprised whenever one othe villains offered to take you on some trip to amusement parks, regular parks, even just willingly watching anime with you. It was odd to see. Surely someone at the house did those things with you? He didn’t but he was extremely busy with school and vigilantism. Jason was legally dead, so surely he had all the time in the world.

“How was I supposed to relate to them? They’re what, 12 and into shit like that one with the cat looking dog thing and the robot girl. I have shit to do. Y’know, managing Crime Alley?”

Well, Dick had come over to hang out plenty of times. Surely he’d spent at least a few hours with you every now and then? “I have an entire team and criminals to manage of in another city, Damian. I don’t have as much time as you think to do whatever it was with them they’d wanted to do”

Maybe Tim? “I have college and stuff, Damian. And I don’t have the energy to put into hanging around them. I’d probably just be sleeping most of the time.

Bruce? “I have to manage you, Gotham, and the Justice League, Damian. I barely have time for myself.”

… Alfred? “I tried, Master Damian. However I’m constantly pulled thin between so many tasks. Besides, all you have is school most days, and you’ve had summer vacations and weekends. Shouldn’t you’ve had plenty of time to spend with your younger sibling?”

… He did have the most time outside of vigilantism. And it took him a week to realize you were missing.

You had to realize that they were under extreme stress though, right?He couldn’t spend all his free time with you. He had his own friends to hang out with. How were you two even supposed to relate?

One day at dinner, the thoughts were thrashing in his head, slamming against soft tissue and tearing through brain matter. He aimlessly poked at the food on his plate.

“You alright, replacement?” Jason asked, pausing in his extremely rare dinners with everyone else. Alfred had promised him a tray of fudge to take home this time around, and nobody made fudge quite as good as he did.

“… They were gone for two weeks.”

Everyone stopped eating as he continued.

“Two weeks. Two full weeks before they showed up at that fight. Did anyone here even know? I only noticed after a week and assumed they were just holed up in their room with a class assignment or something.” He was rambling. Everyone was quiet and looking at each other. How did it manage to slip past everyone? They were detectives, for Christ’s sake.

They were your family.

—

Dinner ended with guilt wrapping around their throats and pulling.

Eventually, all of them found themselves in your room. It had been emptied, but showed no signs of struggle. All the small items, the comforter, and your clothes were gone. But what was taken left something behind. Copies of photos of you winning state level competitions, letters requesting your attendance at seminars, photos of gold medals and blue ribbons spread across the floor. Most damning of all was the most recent photo. A certificate by some big time tech company being handed to you. Edward Nashton stood behind you, a firm, reassuring hand on your shoulder.

When had this happened? They never remembered hearing of something like this. A news clipping on the back told them it was maybe a week before you left.

“The Wayne prodigy stated that their family had more important things to see to than such an occasion. I can’t imagine something more important that either of my kids being recognized by a multi-million dollar tech company! I remember postponing an anniversary with my husband to celebrate our child placing second in the science fair. But I guess that’s just the Waynes for you!”

That’s just the Waynes to you.

But it’s ok. He can make it better. He can be a good big brother. He can spend time watching anime with you and decorating your room with lace and fairy lights and go makeup shopping with you. You just need to come home. Now.

---------------- Taglist! Ask to be added!

@jjsmeowthie , @jsprien213 , @ladyrosemone

Jackie first met you when she rushed into the college athletic trainers office to grab ice for her teammate, who didn’t get her hands up in time and took a soccer ball straight to the head. Being a Freshman, she wasn’t the most acquainted with being in that office or who the trainers were, but when she saw you she knew she had to make FREQUENT stops in. She stood there stuttering for a moment while looking at you, before she found her words and just shouted, “ICE!?” With some haste you went to the ice machine and grabbed her a bag, filling it and handing it to the girl, who responds even less gracefully with “Thanks, her face needs this!” Before running back to the field, hitting herself the entire way for not being smoother but at least she had a plan in mind.

She made herself a patient at the office very often, looking up every possible injury she could fake, that would land her in just enough ‘pain’ to get you to help her roll out or give her a muscle massage, WITHOUT ending up with someone calling an ambulance for her. And she ended up back in the office today, with her most flattering biker shorts and a ‘pulled hamstring’ that she just absolutely NEEDED your help with. However, catching you, in the empty room, while you were doing a workout of your own had unexpected consequences, Jackie had found.

After having you do all the ‘hands on’ work you normally do, you start to question why Jackie isn’t as talkative today, as she crosses and uncrosses her legs while sitting in the chair getting ready for her ice and stim. “Jackie, what’s up with you today, you’re super quiet?” you ask as you put the pads on her thigh, she has to suppress a whimper as her mind flashes with images of how you looked bench pressing, when she walked in earlier. “No reason.” She forces out through gritted teeth as she presses her thighs together. It was only then, while your hands were on the exposed skin of her thighs, that you noticed the wet mark, now present on Jackie’s shorts. Now all the instances of her asking you to lift her onto the table because her “knee hurt her far too much” for her to try herself or her flirting with you as you held her legs to roll them out, made a lot of sense.

no because jackie falling in love at first sight will never not be canon to me. i just know that she was considering keeping the bag of ice and was low key possessive of it when she had to give it to her team mate because you gave it to her. 100% considered grabbing the bag after the other girl was done with it because it was a gift. shes such a loser (affectionate)

jackie berating herself the whole way back for having the least smooth first meeting ever. she spends the entire walk back thinking about all the things she should have said instead. convinced she'd make a note on her phone full of flirty lines that she looks at right before she stops back in the office, but her mind goes blank every single time. she goes back into her room and screams into her pillow so often that her room mate is getting concerned about her lmao

jackie ignoring your advice about possibly getting inserts for her shoes because obviously somethings wrong if she keeps 'twisting' her ankle like this all the time. she's all "mhm, totally. 😍"

jackie showing up in her most flattering outfit, a face full of makeup, her best smelling perfume, and her hair freshly washed and styled.

jackie bites her lip so hard she nearly draws blood trying not to whine and moan while you touch her i just know it. you're giving her a massage and your thumb presses in just the right way and jackie gasps as she grabs at your wrist. she keeps glancing back and forth between your face and your hand and flushes bright red as she stutters out an apology. you're thinking you hurt her so you're like "was that too rough?" and her mind has gone straight to the gutter. she's done for, truly.

thinking about the absolutely mortified look on jackie's face when you catch sight of how wet she is. she's so embarrassed she can't even speak, eyes shut tightly so she doesn't have to see the look on your face.

you pause at the sight, considering her for a moment as your world view flips. yeah, you can work with this. you don't say anything at first, but you do make sure to spend extra time carefully applying the electrodes. you have to make sure the adhesive sticks, don't you? maybe you spend more time than you need to rubbing your thumb across the edges, but that's your business.

jackie's more than a little humiliated by the time she can leave, but she knows from the the smug look on your face that she'd come crawling right back if she had to. as she finally gets to the sanctuary that is her empty dorm room she glances down at the instructions you gave her to find your phone number written down at the bottom. she had something she desperately needed to take care of now that her dorm room would be empty for a few hours, but after that she'd definitely move to phase 2 in her seduction plan (she thinks she was sooo subtle about it lmaoo)