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alexanderwales · 2 days

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Book Review: Metropolitan Man

[content warning: sexual violence]

It's been 10 years since I wrote Metropolitan Man, and last night I read it for the first time in almost that long. Since writing it, I've written over 4 million words, and hopefully, grown as a writer. I've also forgotten parts of the story, so was looking at it with as fresh of eyes as possible. These are my overall thoughts.

I should say, before I start, that I've read tons of comments and discussion on this story over the years. I don't know how many of these thoughts are my own, or how much I've internalized things that people have said.

Writing Style

There were lots of changes I thought about making while reading, but people hate change, and this story is about ten years past when I wanted to be making editing passes on it. In many places I kept thinking of little extras I would add, things that would make the dialogue pop a little more, or provide characterization. I had this idea for a line where I describe Lois typing out two letters like she was letting loose with both barrels of a shotgun. There's dialogue to clean just a bit more, a few places where words are repeated or something is just a bit awkward, and where it could have been tighter or more clear.

The biggest thing that stood out to me was how little time got spent on scene setting and how short some of the snippets were, just five paragraphs to get a scene across before we're onto the next thing. I might have webserial brainrot, but those are definitely places where today I would give a little more breathing room and maybe use the same amount of words to describe something in a more oblique and stronger way. One that stood out as a clear example was a private investigator going home with Jimmy Olsen even though she was done pumping him for information, which could have been twice as long and benefitted from it. Another was a brief little thing about a Superman spotter on the roof, where I'd now describe everything he was doing, and only get to the conclusion of "he was a Superman spotter" at the end of the section to let the reader have this mini mystery of what they're being shown and why.

I would describe things more if I was writing this today, trying to get those nicely tight and evocative descriptions and ditch the stuff like "she wore a white blouse", but I often feel that way about stuff that I'm revising from last week, so it's not surprising.

The plot is very tight, which is good. I tend to prefer my plots tight, but it takes work, and webserials aren't conducive to it because it's difficult to know when you're writing a scene whether it's really pulling its weight as far as moving things forward. The initial idea for MM was to move as cleanly as possible through a series of events: Superman -> Superman is invincible -> Superman is Clark Kent -> Clark Kent grew up in Smallville -> the ship is in Smallville -> the ship has a Kryptonite power source -> Kryptonite can kill Superman -> Superman is dead. The only thing that would make it any faster would be if we dropped the Lois Lane subplot, but that's like half the novel.

Superman is OOC

I've gotten tons and tons of comments on this story over the years. If I hated myself, I would go back through my email and count them up, but there are some death threats and "kill yourself"s in there, and I prefer not to reread them. The major thing that people hate is the ending, which I don't care to talk about, but the other major thing is that Superman isn't Superman.

In this, I largely agree, but then, I'm pretty sure I've always agreed. That said, Superman has had a ton of interpretations over the years, and there's a wide range of acceptable behavior from "a Superman", even if we're not counting the really out there variations like Red Son or some of the alternate timelines.

... but I still would probably make him more like a canon Superman if I had to do it all over.

There are a few things that raise red flags at the beginning, which is where I think they're inexpertly placed. Superman takes Lois off the roof and flies her around, making her very afraid, and this is fine, I think, a misunderstanding that might be stronger if we got his insight into what was happening before we got hers to help bridge some of the disconnect there and characterize them both better. But there's a little note after that, where Clark makes a joke about "Superman's girlfriend Lois Lane" that I think is a HUGE red flag, and which probably comes too early in the story. It would be better as a joke someone else made that Clark laughs along with, which raises the red flag to half mast.

The other major moment I would change is when the bombs start going off. Superman pulls back, unsure whether he's actually immune to mustard gas, and I think this is one of the moments that most goes against the character of Superman. Canon Superman would just say "welp, guess I gotta find out whether I'm immune to mustard gas in a hurry". Superman making the argument that he doesn't know the bounds of his powers and so should exercise caution reads as either cowardice or as him being way too bitten by the rationality bug.

This would then obviously have to change the plot of that section a bit, because in the novel as it stands right now, Superman is convinced by Lois Lane that he can't just sit on the sidelines for game theory reasons. Better to either scrap that section or have Lois convince Superman that for game theory reasons he should offer to have testing carried out against him in a way that doesn't harm civilians, which canon Superman might submit to if it saved lives. Then the rest of the plot can proceed as normal, because Superman is immune to everything and that's the whole plot beat anyway.

I'd definitely clean up some of Superman/Clark's dialogue to nail the character voice better, but I don't think it's that bad, and it's mostly a few places where the wording is off. I think in particular the points where he's feeling anger go too far, and are not how someone internally conflicted about the anger might talk.

And then, oh yeah, Superman punches a guy's head clean off, which I think is the biggest sticking point for most people.

I've thought about that scene a lot. I personally like it. But if I were ever trying to sell this story to DC, it's one of the things I would almost certainly change. Superman doesn't kill, except in that one movie that came out just before this story was published where Superman snapped a guy's neck.

The change I am most happy/comfortable with is that Whitman, the governor whose children were [REDACTED], is the one to kill Calhoun. This happens just outside the courthouse with Superman watching and not intervening in the slightest, or maybe catching the bullets as they go through Calhoun so no bypassers get hit.

I don't know, as I type it out, it doesn't have the same weight to it. It's not cool. It's not a watershed moment. Maybe there's a plot thread to pull there, where Superman has tacitly endorsed other vigilantes, and it would be a great time to pull in other mundane street-level heroes ... but that's an entirely different story at that point.

Another option is for Superman to simply fly off with Calhoun and put him away, but that lacks punch too, and gets talky, and ... it's about the rage, right? The feeling of injustice, not just at Calhoun, but at the entire world, and it's not just an unhappy side effect that there's blood everywhere, all over the clamoring press, that's part of the point.

Social Justice

I really enjoy how wide-ranging the novel is, and how many things it touches on. Good job me. There was a line I had completely forgotten about where Lois asks "Why doesn't Superman stop abortions?" that I had completely forgotten I had ever written, and which brought a big smile to my face (but no wonder some Superman fans hate this story).

There are a few other things that I raise my eyebrow at a little bit, at least sitting here in 2024. There's a particular line that Superman gives when talking about this whitewashed mural of the past they're walking by, and he says "It's easy to forget that slavery ever happened, you know?" Now, I will grant you that this is a part of a conversation where he's saying that maybe he should have been a better student of history, and is saying this as a white guy in 1934, but I wanted him or someone else to tear that statement apart. It never really happens.

"It's easy to forget that slavery ever happened [if you and your people have not been affected by slavery]". The novel takes place ~70 years after the end of the Civil War, which means that when Clark was growing up there would have been freed slaves who were in their fifties, probably many of them in Kansas, though Smallville is (notably) small. I don't know, it wouldn't have been historically accurate for them to have a discussion of privilege, but there's way more meat on that bone, and it's all left as subtext.

Also probably the case that if I were writing it now, I would pay more attention to race in general, but that I'm less sure on, because it would mean some major structural changes to be done well. There's a single black guy in the whole thing, who is barely a character and has no speaking lines: the farmhand Ma Kent has before he gets lured away with the promise of being an actor. I have never felt that any novel needs racial balance to it, but if you're going to be talking about slavery and whether Superman would have done anything about it, you start to make black people look like props, which is not a good look.

I mean look, I think it's fine for a given story to not actually take a stance on political issues or have a diverse cast, but this story goes from abortion to the Equal Rights Amendment to Prohibition to Nazis to the death penalty, and then despite being set in 1934 sort of talks around the subject of how shitty race relations were. As a white guy, I never feel comfortable talking about race, but I think it would have been appropriate to have here in more than the cursory way it was handled. But the cast is just not that large, and the way that modern Superman stories handle that is usually making Jimmy Olsen black and then not actually talking about the fact that he's black so it's just a palette swap, which I don't think would work here, especially since Jimmy is such a bit character, and also it's 1934.

Sexual Violence

Alright, I will say it: there's too much sexual violence.

Chapter 7 is when the two Whitman kids get kidnapped. Their driver gets his throat slit, the boy gets dismembered, and the girl gets raped. I knew it was coming and I was still horrified by it.

I would not remove this part. I would foreshadow it better with a few scenes with Calhoun, the brutes, etc., and I might change some of the details to be a bit less awful and gruesome, but I don't think I would remove it. There are a few core ideas here that I think all work:

The better class of criminal has left the city now, and all that are left are the worst of the worst, the people who will not respond to incentives or symbols or rational thought.

If you cannot strike at Superman's physical self, you strike at his mind instead, and one of the ways to do that is psychic damage. In Calhoun's case, this is irrational, a pure desire to hurt Superman in any way possible while his empire collapses.

The amount of evil in the world is enormous. The pain and suffering cannot be comprehended. I love what Superman says, that this isn't really unique, that these things happen to children all the time. He's upset about not being able to save them, but they're a drop in the bucket.

I think you have to be careful with sexual violence, whether it's depicted or hinted at or just briefly mentioned. There are tons of people who are not on board with that in their media, and even of those who are on board, it has to be handled carefully and can feel very cheap, as though you're just going to the worst and most transgressive thing you can think of for the shock value. People will see it as lazy and trivializing and making entertainment out of this horrible thing.

I think the world is shit. I think terrible things happen. I have always felt both oppressed by the weight of evil in the world and powerless to stop it. I think that's the thing that I'm gesturing at here, and it feels weird to me that sexual violence would get put on a pedestal as the one thing too horrible to mention, even though we're mentioning all the most horrible things.

How do Superman comics and shows and movies deal with this? My impression is that they don't. Surely Superman must be stopping rapes from happening, but I cannot think of a single time I've seen it happen. I'm actually having trouble thinking of a time it was implied to happen. I think this is probably a good idea on the part of the people who make these bits of media, but it's absolutely not realistic if you're thinking about how Superman would operate in the "real world". Sexual violence happens, child abuse happens, and I guess we just sort of assume that these things are dealt with by Superman off-screen.

Though ... I mean it impacts the characters, right? Does Superman not have a trauma response? Does he have a superpower where he can bottle it all up? He's definitely too late to stop certain crimes, and he definitely can't make things better for some of the victims, and I guess in the comics when he shows up to a burning building he generally has a 100% success rate and people come out with only minor injuries, but ... alright, this is definitely the sort of thing that led me to write this fic in the first place.

It's a question that the fic doesn't have an answer for: how do you go on living when you know that there's so much evil in the world?

I think dialing that particular scene back is, maybe, fine. But it's the sort of thing that would feel like I was being less authentic in a way, as though I wanted to grapple with the big questions but not that one, wanted to consider ethics and morality but silo myself away from things that actually are on my mind. I see the point of blunting that scene, and I rebel against it because I don't want to be blunted, I want to be sharp.

I would, however, remove a lot of the earlier references, or blunt those, because they didn't need to be sharp. There are, before the Whitman stuff, about five references to sexual violence, and maybe even just using "sexual violence" would be enough, rather than "rape". One of these references is to what crimes Superman is statistically most likely to stop, another is to a plot to besmirch his name, both can be massaged or they can go.

I don't know if I think about these things differently because time has passed or I've had a bunch of discussions about these issues, or whether it's just having the outside view. It's weird to think about what a conversation with myself would look like, if we were working on the story together.

Retrospective

I understand why Superman fans sometimes hate this story. There's the Superman OOC stuff, sure, but there are also a lot of questions about Superman that apply to canon equally well, and people hate that. Superman is a fantasy, maybe the ultimate comic book fantasy. He stops crimes and bullets bounce off him! You're not supposed to think about his stance on abortion rights. You're not supposed to look at the Clark Kent mask and say 'huh, that's strange'. I mean it's media, you can do whatever the hell you want, but if Superman is a fantasy, then there are a lot of questions that are fantasy-ruining.

I stand by the story as written about 80%, which is higher than I thought it would be, though there are certain things that I stand by more than others. There are certain structural changes and many line-by-line changes, and I'm glad that I didn't have the story open in edit mode, because it would have taken me three times as long to read and when I hit "save changes" people would grumble about archives or bad changes or whatever, because you can't please people.

About five years ago, I started writing A Common Sense Guide to Doing the Most Good, which was meant as a companion piece to MM. It ended up being all mechanics, no plot, and the plot that I wanted it to have was divorced from the center questions it wanted to answer. It didn't feel as grand, I guess, and the cats were out of their bags a little too quickly.

One of the Answers that MM gives is that the thing you should do in the face of overwhelming evil is to grind relentlessly, grind until your bones are scraping the grindstone and there's nothing left of yourself. The story does not believe this answer, but it's one of the places I ended up ten years ago, and am still sort of at now. The other answer is to live as best you can, be aware of the evil and do what you can against it without letting the idea of it (or the battle against it) consume your soul.

When I was finished reading, I kind of wanted to write an uncritical Superman comic. Something where Superman can be as his most loyal fans see him, someone who is Good and doesn't often have to grapple with what Good means, where the thorny edges of moral quandaries never come to light and the hero is always there in the nick of time. Where Clark Kent is a bold and noble expression of humanity rather than a deception and a mask. Maybe I will go do that.

#fanfic #metropolitan man #book review

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multifandomlover01 · 2 days

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Dolly

For cmkinkbingo2024

Square filled: Objectification

Spencer Reid x gn!reader (established relationship)

WC: 1047

Warnings: sexual themes - community label - 18+ MDNI - not necessarily explicit smut but allusions to smut, vague and not specific mention of a stressful case that’s in line with what they canonically deal with, kink, naked adults touching and kissing, some terms of endearment are used: hon, doll (in a more literal sense)

Summary: Spencer is stressed after a case and reader helps him relax when they get home (by attempting to turn him into a doll through kissing and caressing)

Gif credit: garvezs

(Not necessarily indicative of fic placement in timeline but it’s an estimate)

Spencer was sitting next to you on the plane ride home. His leg was bouncing.

“You ok?” You ask softly as you continue to read your book.

“Hmm?” He looks up from his. “Oh. Y-yeah…I’m fine.”

“Really? You sure? That case was…pretty tough.”

He nods, agreeing. “Mhm.”

“But you’re sure you’re ok?” You ask again because you know when he’s hiding what he’s feeling from you.

He nods again. “Mhm.”

“Would you tell me if you were hiding your feelings from me?” You ask point blank since he was still being somewhat evasive.

He looks back down at his book.

“Spencer…” You say softly. “Please look at me.”

To his credit, he does.

“You’re not ok.” You say simply, deciding to make a statement rather than ask another question.

He shakes his head. “No. I’m not.” He whispered softly.

“What can I do to make it better?” You ask sincerely and softly.

“Nothing…here…” he muttered as he gestured to the jet.

“Oh? Why not here?” You smile as you rub his thigh.

“Hon…stop…please.” He murmured softly.

You do. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok. I just…we can’t…do that…here…I don’t wanna…” he trails off

“Hey…you don’t have to explain yourself to me. It’s alright.” You smile at him.

“I want that. I do. Really, I do. You don’t understand how much I need that, actually.” He chuckles. “It's just…we can’t…not here.” He shakes his head again. He was very cautious about public displays of affection, especially around the team. Which you completely understood and aren’t surprised by.

“I understand.”

His leg starts bouncing as you sit and both go back to your reading.

“You’re restless.” You observe simply.

“Sorry.” He forces himself to stop bouncing his leg.

“Don’t be. It was just an observation. You have pent up energy? Release it.”

He nods and smiles. He continues bouncing his leg. “I really am going to need um…release…when we get home. I wasn’t kidding about that.”

“Of course.” You smile as you look over at him. “It was a very stressful case.”

As soon as you get home, he’s slumping against you, pinning you to the wall as he embraces you and nuzzles your neck.

“Please…need you…” He murmurs desperately against your neck.

“Go lie down on the bed then, ok, hon?” You pat his back.

He nods, kissing your neck a few times before he hurriedly goes off towards the bedroom.

You take a few minutes to meander there. He’s naked and on the bed on his back like the good boy he is.

“Good boy.” You smile as you shed your clothes on the way to the bed.

“Always for you.” his eyes sparkle with affection as they are on you all the way as you advance towards him. You climb up on the bed next to him.

“Tell me what you need, baby. I’ll give it to you.” You stroke his cheek. He closes his eyes. He sighs softly.

“I need…I just need you, please. I don’t care, as long as you’re here with me.” He looks at you and you just know he’s reached his limit when it comes to thinking. The case took a lot out of him and he was very much looking forward to being here with you and not having to think.

“You’re so good for me, hon, giving me freedom and control.” You trail your finger over his neck, causing him to shiver.

“It’s yours…I’m yours.” He looks at you like you’re his world (and you very much are).

“I’ll tell you what…why don’t you lay here on your back like this and I’ll do what I can to calm you down. I know how exhausting this case was for you.”

“A-anything you’d like, please do.” He reaffirms the fact that he’s giving up control to you. He trusts you completely of course.

“I most certainly will do anything I please.” You smile as you lean down to kiss his collarbone.

“I love you so much.” He whispers softly as he look at you with adoration.

“I love you too but remember…dolls don’t talk, hon.”

He nods and smiles.

“Good doll.” You whisper softly as you begin to trail kisses down his chest. His skin has tinged a pretty shade of pink.

“Such a good doll for me. Perfectly still. Perfectly quiet.” You encouraged him still as you now kiss his stomach and lower still over his abdomen.

He’s shaking slightly and obviously having a bit of trouble suppressing the noises that desperately wish to escape him to show you how much he appreciates what you’re doing for and to him.

You caress his thigh when you get down there. You look up at him. He’s looking back at you and obviously bracing himself for when you touch his cock.

You skim your fingers over his cock and he jolts. He successfully suppressed a yelp. Your gaze lifts to meet his.

“I sense I’m going too fast. You haven’t been kissed enough. You’re far too wound up still.” You smile as you stop touching his cock and start to kiss up his torso, caressing his thigh and hip as you do so.

His head falls back against the pillow. His eyes flutter closed. His mouth hangs open slightly. He stills slightly, allowing himself to relax.

“There we go! Such a good doll for me.”

He smiles as you continue to softly kiss his chest and gently caress his hip. As you continue to kiss and caress, his breathing seems to even out more and he seems calmer. You lay your head on his chest to hear his heartbeat. It seems nice and steady.

“Mmm…nice and calm…just how it should be.”

Your soft caresses and gentle kisses lull him into a relaxed state. His eyes are still closed. After you’ve thoroughly kissed and caressed everywhere on his body (making sure to go slow enough so as to not overwhelm him), he’s almost asleep but he isn’t tired. He’s in a state of half-consciousness. He feels like he’s completely safe. He feels like he’s floating. He has no thoughts (which is an interesting experience for him but a very welcome one considering the stress of the case). His mind is peaceful and blissfully empty. He is content. He makes no sound. All of his stress is gone. There’s just you…your lips…and your hands.

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niishi · 1 year

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I always find it funny that zo/sans will be like: oh I hate these problematic ideas that come out of one piece fans :(

And then two seconds later: I want zoro and sanji to be in an abusive relationship where sanji fucks zoro dry and raw and calls him a faggot and theres no love and no affection and zoros just being used as a hole and an outlet and afterwards sanji is even more angry and abusive bc he has so much internalized homophobia it's hard for him. Idc how it effects zoro, but my poor baby sanji needs to figure himself out and zoro can take massive amounts of abuse so its okay :)

#like do you my friends #but yall are hypocrites #getting mad at the most innocent headcanons #idk!#they either ship them ooc where theyre lovey dovey and married #or they ship it as straight up abuse #angry rival sex is one thing #but this isnt that???? bc unlike most angry rivals #sanji is canonically homphobic (they will ALWAYS add that part too)#and zoro is across the board headcanond as an out gay man #and the focus on the ship #is always sanji using zoro as a way to learn about his sexuality but its always portrayed as rough and rude and cruel #which all in all would be the way it would go in canon pretty much #and i just think like......#whats so sexy about sanji abusing people??#yall threw a fit when sanji was abused #yall threaten puddings life even tho shes a victim #but when sanji abuses ppl yall fucking love it?????#calm down #zo/san is disgusting #i tolerated it for a little bit but everyone ships it exactly the same and its repulsive #only ppl who like sanji more than zoro ship zo/san #bc zoro fans would fucking never put him through that for giggles #i just kinda 'hehe omg i hate this' when its brought up #bc since the beginning ive mentioned i hated it #and that does not stop anyone from trying to make me see why it's good #and all that ever does is make me hate it more bc everyone loves sanji abusing zoro #dont yall get thats a big reason why i hate it? then u try to explain to me why its good and you use that reason??#idk man u think ur clearly communicating your discomfort but then no one respects that... like yall arent gonna change my mind..#it truly just makes me hate it even more

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seaglassdinosaur · 4 months

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I know we collectively agree that Hiccup isn’t romantically inclined, and his getting married and having kids didn’t make sense in the epilogue, but consider: Hiccup getting married for political reasons.

It’s a marriage of alliance, which is recognized both by him and his partner, and they enter it without expectations of romantic involvement. Since they’re now married, they live in the same castle, spend time together, and Hiccup finds he really likes his spouse. They’re funny, get along with his friends, and has the same interests and values. They both probably speak multiple languages. She understands why Hiccup is so dedicated to making the Wilderwest better, and holds similar views. She’s a good politician (her job after all, was to be an ambassador). Hiccup likes spending time with them, and the feeling is mutual. They’re not in love, they have their own lives, but they’re dedicated to each other and eventually decide to raise children. They teach their kids how to train hawks and hunt with dragons, riding, history, the Languages, and all the necessary skills of their world. They’re not in love and they’re happy together.

#pushing the aromantic hiccup agenda and also the queerplatonic agenda #as much as the idea of hiccup getting married was always a little off to me it was more the romantic angle #which I why I like the idea of a marriage of alliance and a partner who understands that #and then of course the montage of them being a good team and getting along #and going ‘yeah I like this person. I think this is the person I want to spend my life with.’#also a) a lot of arranged political marriages did have the foreign spouse function as an ambassador #b) polyglot hiccup is canon and I think it would be neat if his spouse was as well. it is a marriage alliance after all.#she isn’t from the small area of berm #(actually give all the Vikings regional accents. I think it’s neat)#c) she/they because I didn’t feel firmly about the partner’s gender and the nords were pretty gender diverse #anyway I think the partner would probably be fond of the library and admire hiccup got it open way back when #get along with Fishlegs and camicazi well enough #and enjoy dramatic stories of their adventures. maybe have some of her own #also: normalize people having their own lives outside their partners. hiccup and they are happy together but also have their own friends #oh and you know hiccup would be a great dad. he loves Stoick but he would so much be the dad he wished he had growing up #are the kids bio related? are they adopted (cast off and No Names)? who knows!#I could build in my head what hiccup’s spouse is like but I’ll leave it here #they exist as we construct them #httyd #httyd books #my post #book!hiccup #hiccup the third #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #book hiccup

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charmac · 2 months

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i don't think people hcing charlie as transfem are trying to dismiss the transmasc charlie hc! i think it's more of a projection thing for a lot of people, since i know at least a few of the main people who enjoy the headcanon are transfem themselves!! i don't think you have much to worry about in terms of people dismissing the tmasc or other genderqueer charlie hc anyways, since it's already much more popular! i think you're perhaps being a bit too critical.

I've literally never said anything like this at all, I think you've either misinterpreted something else I've said or have the wrong blog.

All of my Charlie gender-based posts or reblogs I've stated/tagged that I think any interpretation of Charlie's gender can make sense, be it transmasculine, transfeminine, nonbinary, agender, whatever you want.

I am one of the ~3 blogs that has access to The Bathroom Problem script and who posted and pointed out that you can make out/slightly hear the Joyce cuts in the episode itself. I would not have excitedly shared that for open-interpretation if I was "worried" people are "dismissing" transmasc Charlie headcanons. (Which, again, I've literally never said, but in any case, I believe it's valid for anyone to dismiss a headcanon they don't agree with, fandom is a sandbox.)

What I personally don't care for are genderbends and, almost by extension, analysis/meta on canon scenes that rename/re-gender the characters with no basis (or, one that comes off wrong). Both topics I've literally never publicly spoken out against here, nor have I said anything bad/negative to everyone who personally enjoys these things, so there is no way for me to possibly be "too critical" in that regard. I keep most of my opinions to myself and my close mutuals, almost exactly for what you're saying: I personally don't want to harsh or dismiss anyone's headcanons.

I have never said, and have never meant to imply, that anyone interpreting Charlie as transfem is attempting to dismiss anyone else's headcanon (which again would be a non issue to me anyway).

#if youre coming here from a certain twitter post #which #mind you was a 3 deep reply to one specific mutual. aka not a public criticism #i believe you are incorrectly interpreting what my issue is #bc it is not about 'headcanon erasure'#and i did not post about it on this blog. never intended to. because im not trying to be critical or dismissive. im venting to mutuals #if youre saying i cant personally have an issue with something idk what to tell you lol. ok?#and if youre one of my mutuals who ive like #personally ranted to about these various things #idk that would be very random and kinda weird to come into my askbox on anon about this #my dms are always open to chat i like having critical and opposing conversations #anyway im not trying to win the charlie gender headcanon war i literally dgaf #i dont even talk about transmasc charlie much at all? so idk where that idea comes from #like im pretty seated in him being amab i just enjoy other peoples transmasc interpretations #im way too rooted in canon in actuality to care much about all this!#hence. why canon misinterpretation bugs me *personally*#ok im going to the back office to get drunk #ask

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acorrespondence · 9 months

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@freekicks Oh man I have lots; so many that I’m making this a new post so I don’t clog up that poor person’s replies with 50 messages, haha! Basically, it’s an expansion on the idea that everyone has headcanons/canon details that are absolutely integral to their enjoyment of the story and any transformative works based on it (hard), and headcanons/canon details that they’re fond of but could still get pretty much unaltered enjoyment out of a fic that contradicts them (soft). Obviously all these are just opinions and what I get out of the story isn’t and shouldn’t have to be the same as what anyone else gets out of it.

One thing that sort of falls in the middle of the headcanon/canon divide is Raylan’s age when his mother died. The show contradicts itself on this point several times, and so it’s sort of fungible. I personally find the idea that Raylan’s mother died when he was very young, like younger than Loretta, while it may serve the parallels between them, to be much less compelling than the idea that she died later. It’s just so much more… boring for a character whose mother died when he was ten or so to have a gross misrepresentation of who she was as a person in his mental image of her. It’s much more compelling to me if he held onto that despite direct evidence to the contrary that he was old enough to understand. Of course he’d forget the hatchet story if it happened when he was eight. If it happened when he was eighteen, that opens up a much realer possibility that he just straight up repressed it, which is fascinating. Also, I don’t think it makes sense if he grew up with Helen in the house for the second half of his life there. To me that doesn’t really jive with their current relationship. (And on a less story-driven note, I am fascinated by the idea that, if Raylan’s mother died when he was thirty, he might not have attended her funeral. Because part of him knew it would challenge the version of her he had to remember in order to maintain his black and white perception of the world.)

Obviously, the mine and what it represents is a necessary component (though the time and place less so—my Old Guard au places them in the miners’ strikes of the 30s, and I’ve read a wonderful fic where the mine in question was on a different planet entirely. However, it does have to be placed in Harlan, or whatever approximation of Harlan fits the broader setting). The boys and their relationships with their daddies is another nonnegotiable for me. Specifically, the way they grew up; different times and causes of death for Bo and Arlo can work just as well. If Raylan and Boyd don’t meet until they’re established adults, that immediately kills my interest. Their rich history is so integral to why I’m drawn to the ship in the first place. It’s a hard sell for me to have Boyd leave or Raylan stay directly after the mine, but I’ve been known to make an exception if the story is compelling enough and doesn’t sacrifice characterization.

I think Boyd’s criminal history is important, though the nature of it less so. And even more important is the fact that Boyd never really makes it big as a criminal—making him some kind of fief lord of crime makes him much less interesting to me. His plans only succeed inasmuch as he always manages to survive their unraveling. I think it’s important that he’s spent time incarcerated. I’m not a huge fan of stories where they meet again outside of Harlan and never go back, it takes away the central tension between them and the place that made them that Raylan so struggles with and Boyd embraces so wholly, which for me is a really interesting part of their relationship, this dichotomy. I also don’t care for stories that give them a ton of good friends outside each other, or casual friends who actually know them and hang out with them—they’re too big of assholes for that. Of course, this doesn’t include the characters they’re close with in canon; I love Raylan and Rachel’s friendship, in particular, and their understanding of each other despite their vast superficial differences is fascinating. I guess I should say instead that I don’t buy either of them having typical friendships, period. They’re just too weird and fucked up for that. They trauma bonded at nineteen and it continues to be one of the most important relationships in either of their lives. Winona puts up with Raylan’s relational weirdness for love; no one is doing that for their drinking buddy. So they may have close friendships, but they don’t look the way you’d expect.

I’d never make their relationship uncomplicatedly sweet and unfraught, or sand down the kind of feral edges of it, and I don’t think they’d be much for traditional PDA—I just love the way in canon the physical (and otherwise) manifestations of their intimacy are so outside of what’s expected from buddies OR lovers. In the same vein, I don’t love it when Raylan goes crazy with the terms of endearment, because he doesn’t use them much with his love interests in canon. I have him use them with the girls in heavy heart more as verbal tics he picked up after spending too much time around Boyd, who LOVES to use them, plus I think he models at least some of his displays of parental affection after Helen, who canonically calls him “honey”. I’m fine with Boyd throwing endearments around liberally; I just don’t do it in my own fics because I love the way in canon he twists Raylan’s name itself into almost an endearment. He just can’t stop saying it every other sentence, so why would he give up the chance to say it by replacing it with another word? Plus, it fits in with how weird they are about each other in general.

More broadly, I have never really enjoyed full aus (based on any story) that don’t try to approximate at least the broader beats of place and history from canon, but I really really love stories that manage it. I respect authors who can sort of map canon onto a completely different stage, like the space au mentioned above, so much. I hope that I manage that at least somewhat with catching bullets.

That’s all the big ones I can think of at the moment, though I’m sure there’s more I’ve forgotten (most of the rest fall more under ic-ness vs ooc-ness, which is harder to articulate; “what makes them themselves?” is a much more difficult question). Ultimately, I think probably a lot of these come across through cross-referencing both of my WIPs—basically, if it shows up in both, there’s a very good chance it’s a nonnegotiable for me, and if it changes between the two, then I can obviously live without it.

#blanket disclaimer that these are just my personal tastes and everyone is going to have different things they could take or leave abt canon!#justified #raylan/boyd #yeats freekicks #writing #catching bullets #heavy heart #long post #my fic #caveat to most of these is: without a very good reason that maintains the spirit of the law if not the letter #or is really well explained by the story in a way that acknowledges its importance #but makes the divergence necessary #sorry if this ruins anyone’s dreams of me one day righting a fic where they were never in the mines bc raylan was born to a loving father in #miami and only met boyd the wildly successful drug kingpin when he was assigned to kentucky and had to leave his 137 good friends #the existence and relevance of bowman winona and ava is also important to me #wrt fusion aus i’m just personally looking for ‘what would these elements to *this* story’#not ‘what would these characters add to this other story’#because for me pretty much all of who they are as characters is tied to their history so an honest au of this kind REQUIRES ooc-ness #at which point they’re not the same characters #and you’ve lost me completely lol

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hecatesbroom · 3 days

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Apparently, today's brainrot of choice is a Golden Girls Sound of Music AU where Rose is Maria, Dorothy's the Captain, and Blanche is the Baroness, only that one scene where the Baroness visits Maria in her bedroom ends very differently & they end up in a polycule

#i'm afraid i'm sending this one into the void but i was singing edelweiss on my way to the supermarket when this thought popped up #and it has *not* let go of me since #i'm sorry but this just seems perfect for them when you consider it!!#rose seems like she would 100% be the type to be mesmerized by nuns (and their singing)#only to find out after joining the convent that she absolutely is Not the right type to be a nun #(she would absolutely be found singing and humming everywhere. her tendency to hum is a canon fact!! and she's great with children!!)#dorothy would be a widow rather than a divorcee in this case & i guess stan was still a yutz (but with money this time)#it's been 2 years or so since he died and she's been absolutely torn with guilt over how *free* she feels without him #(she thinks she ought to feel sad like any good widow but she doesn't. just like she felt she should've loved him during their marriage #but she also couldn't of course.#so i'm guessing she has this sense of ''if i wasn't able to love you the way i should have when you lived #then at least i should grieve you as i ought to now that you're dead.''? so she spends her time being... well. we've all seen the captain #because she doesn't feel like she's *allowed* to experience joy anymore #which is when Rose shows up and slowly brings love and life and music back into the household!!)#Blanche as the baroness feels pretty self explanatory to me #but i think for additional conflict she's a widow who was very happily married #(everyone thinks she married for money & rank but it really was love. SO MUCH of it)#and the very first person Blanche falls for again is Dorothy. so of course she sees Rose as a threat the first time they meet #but when she sees how much Rose genuinely loves Dorothy (and how *good* Rose is for her!!) Blanche slowly falls in love with her too #i have SO MANY thoughts about this au lol i'm kind of starting to wish i had the motivation to write it :')#the golden girls #golden wives #rose nylund #dorothy zbornak #blanche devereaux

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spamtoon · 23 days

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(Out of nowhere, you are approached by a familiar lightbulb-headed Cog.)

Ah, it's you, cat. Thinking you're oh-so-slick. Muttering and whispering under those raggedy whiskers of yours... Thinking I am unable to hear it all...

Well, you've simply underestimated my fantastic hearing. You probably want to know the reason why I'm here, taking a 'break' from my incredibly important scientific breakthroughs? It's quite simple, really!

(She gets close, and squints her eyes.)

I know what you are.

Farewell, now!

(She then leaves the way she came from.)

(Spam giggles immensely, covering her face... it always seems like she's giggling, isn't she? This lasts... at least thirty seconds. Longer than usual.)

And I know what I am too, Sparky! You broke through something, that's for sure. Really, broke through...

(She looks down, continuing to laugh nervously.)

You know, I find it odd you Havent tried to bulb blast me into the stratosphere by now. I mean knowing how you acted with Frostbite. Is there something peculiar about me that you perhaps can't quite track? Something about me that you... don't know what I am?

I know, I know, I'm talking to nobody again. But you were there when I had a moment today with the one the only Frostbite The Bravecog. You may be remaining. Lurking in the shadows. Knowing about these thoughts that I'm thinking.

(The giggling resumes, lasting far shorter this time.)

Your brother's a piece of fucking barp, by the way

(She braces for impact for a few seconds, wincing while smiling, before comically looking around to realize nobody's there. She sighs.)

Wow, okay maybe toony superhero show logic doesn't apply in this situation. Cool.

WAIT I JUST FUCKING REALIZED WHAT SHE MEANT but like. Dude if she meant that then what's the point I mean the whole ahh sellbot department barping knows unless you're Really low on the ladder. Heheh... maybe she did mean what I thought she meant.

Oh i'm so fucking screwed. What kind of bitch gets filament fever

#bright spark #<- for finding this again later. haha i called her sparky #the way she talks fucking tickles my brain so much im so . ohguohguohoghog SHE #SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG you see i was in the mindset that i would do this one little thing and then i would do my work which uh.#that leads to so so SO much procrastination. including on fun things! oh so fun things.#today was an event.#i also spent quite a bit of time ruminating i “would she really say that” is worse when shes literally you #to clarify. she is spam's aunt by like. building standards. not really in her found family. so its fucked up but as i said in discord this #is like. a “your mom's kinda hot” level crush. you know. also sorry i really wanted to say filament fever its been eating at me okay #nothing SERIOUS the way my f/os (and spam's f/os (plural now?? i guess?? if today was a canon event)) are #honestly mark still feels like the only real one with her to me but damn it. if spam's reflecting My Changes then she's Reflecting My Chang #spam in toontown unlike my other sonas is the most “its just you again” out of all of them and thats partially because her main #cog connection... is frostbite. they bounce off each other like we literally bounce off each other and damn it shes been so stagnant on her #own because of it. mark happened and she mirrored that because i kept fucking talking about him while we were in character and ideally #i should TRY to fix her. but also man because i'm not doing Serious lore stuff with her i dont. even know if i want to.#i kinda brushed it over the rug by saying that she relies on her constant entertainment so readily because she herself still doesnt feel #like she has a place outside of cogs only. sure she's in high roller backstage sure she's in allan's family now but shes not Doing anything #with herself the way that her friends are. mole's a ranger. frostbite cohosts. wishes... has chip. and something she doesn't have--#living and fully growing as a toon. rather than being haphazardly slapped into a world. and in some respects she's envious of frostbite #finding themselves so quickly because she distracts herself because she's still kinda struggling with it. despite everything. yes she lives #happy and carefree a lot of the time but she keeps buying those dumb phones because when she's truly alone... her mind starts to wander.#that's what mark is for. so that spam can dream of a world where she has a purpose. even if its fake and fragile and just nothing compared #to the great friends that she already has. where she feels like its worth it doing something when she doesn't have anyone. and in that #respect. with the goons ma allan parallels in sonboy the spam cathal parallels shine. seeking tv (and to a lesser extent games) as a #method of escapism. even when one's life is already pretty good. because there's nothing else worth doing without friends or family.#the internet isn't just cool. it gives her something to be when it seems like everyone is something but her. and maybe thats a lazy #excuse for why it seems like she doesnt HAVE anything to call her own but that but damn it i'm trying my best to twist it around.#spam has such a HISTORY yknow? even if it feels like i havent established her much.#spam is the hearts to frostbite's spades not just because they're the duo of all time but because spam's fake stupid love keeps her going #sorry i just started rambling in the tags of this post about spam it. happens. she loves her friends so much i need to reiterate that okay

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tizeline · 5 months

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Some snippets into Donnie's relationship to his brothers in the Separated AU

So after having figured out that Donnie is in fact their Long Lost Brother, the Drax Trio obviously want him back, and while Donnie is initially excited to find out that he has a bunch of siblings, he's less excited to find out that they're a bit, uh, evil. And they keep insulting April!! How dare they!!! Not to mention, he already has a dad, he doesn't need a new one! So no, Donnie isn't planning on just leaving his current family behind for this new one, and his brothers react to this in various different ways.

As much as Mikey wants Donnie back, Dr. Feelings understands that this is quite the adjustment for Donnie and that he may need some time to come to terms with the fact that he actually belongs with them and not with the humans. Mikey doesn't wanna force his brother to reunite with them, so instead he tries to convince Donnie to come home willingly through various ways. I mentioned this in an earlier post, but AU Mikey is essentially trying to give Donnie a redemption arc like Canon Mikey did with Draxum

Raph, however, sees Donnie and immedietly goes full Protective Big Brother Mode. He thinks the best course of action is to "forcefully rescue" (kidnap) him and and then convince him to stay and be apart of their family. He's can't help catastrophizing about all the way his baby brother is definitely being mistreated by Lou Jitsu and April and all the other evil humans oh NO they have to SAVE HIM!! The only reason he doesn't is because no one else in the Draxum family thinks it's a good idea

And then Leo. I'll go more into detail about Leo's character in this AU at a later dat cuz hhhhhhh but basically, he's still dealing with pretty intense Middle Child Syndrome and the LAST thing he need is another middle child joining the family! Why are all his family members so obsessed with getting Donnie back anyway? He's already clearly chosen the human side so why waste their time on him! .....Now that's not entirely the whole truth, he's kinda ecstatic when he first meets Donnie, except Donnie doesn't seem to care about them any, which... ouch.

Another way to describe their dynamic would be similar to their canon dynamic, a lot of friendly bickering.... except they don't really know each other and are also enemies here so like.... UNfriendly bickering.... which is just bickering lol. They fight a lot, is what I'm getting at.

Anyway you know the family dinner scene with Draxum in season 2 of the show? Yeah, Mikey tries that tactic here too. Like I said, Mikey wants to be patient with Donnie, but he does eventually get a bit tired of Donnie acting so hostile all the time so he starts organizing hangouts for the four of them (attendence is mandatory!)

And poor Donnie, this whole situation is a bit of an emotional rollercoaster for him, as you might imagine. Reuniting with your secret lost family is fun for all of five seconds before you find out that they're actually kinda messed up uh oh. A big reason why Donnie acts so hostile towards his brothers is because it's easier for him to just dismiss them as mere enemies that he feels no attatchment to. He's basically being made to pick between this new family and his old one is Not Fun.

#Tiz Sep AU #tizel art #tizel talk #digital art #illustration #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt fanart #rottmnt au #donatello #rottmnt donnie #leonardo #rottmnt leo #raphael #rottmnt raph #michelangelo #rottmnt mikey

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princessbrunette · 3 months

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NEVER LOSE ME ♡

♪ flo milli — never lose me ♪

TELL ME YOU DONT NEVER WANNA LOSE ME!

pairing: rafe cameron + bunny!reader જ⁀➴₊⊹ ♡

synopsis: being in a relationship with rafe, things are always easy on you and your bunny brain. until they’re not.

cw: butt stuff, violence, blood, alcohol mentions, reader is kind of a bimbo, kind of dumbification? mean!rafe, canon spoilers, shoupe, criminal activity, manipulation/threats, slut shaming, mentions of drugs. the ‘dad’ nickname and daddy kink ♡

Your vanity table was your place of peace.

Pink powder puffs and abused beauty blenders. Shimmery MAC gloss. That one blush pallette with the rabbit engraving that was too pretty to use. When you were sat at that table, everything was okay. You were in girl world, with glitter particles floating like fairies in the air around you and that one lipstick swatch on the back of your hand. It was easy to lose time, there were just so many important decisions to make. What lipliner with what gloss? Are you doing glitter in your inner corners today or not? Probably yes, there was never a wrong time for glitter. However it was only the country club you were visiting, and you were meant to be there twenty-five minutes ago. Being a girl is hard.

The country club was where you and Rafe had locked eyes for the first time. You remember it so clearly, not so much like a fairytale but more so like a sexy 2000s movie where the hot people end up together. You were new to the neighbourhood, a pretty young thing wandering into the Kook club with nothing but a shoulder bag and a skirt that clung to your ass cheeks.

Rafe did a double take when he first saw you, the sort they do in cartoons. You were the first girl he’d seen that dressed skimpy and yet still looked expensive, all dressed in virginal white with endless amounts of skin on display. He’d licked his lips, squinting across the golf course as he aimlessly swung his club in circles, tuning out of whatever-the-fuck it was Topper was complaining about this week. At first, for a few seconds anyway — he didn’t know if he wanted you or hated you for walking in here looking like that, knowing you’d be the talk of the town and the visage behind every guy at the country clubs wet dreams. You’d looked back at him and nervously bit at your manicured finger nail, offering a demure smile. There was something unsure and innocent about you, which confirmed how he felt — if his dick jumping in his pants wasn’t enough. He had to have you.

He vowed to get to know you, force his way into your life — and that’s exactly what he did. He would have felt like a creep, eyeing you from across the bar and asking everyone he could what they knew about the new girl — if you didn’t make it so apparent you were doing the same. You made friends quickly with that bubbly, ditsy, happy-go-lucky attitude of yours— and were soon to sit at the tables outside overlooking the golf course in clusters, whispering through cupped palms and giggles when Rafe and his crew would pass by. He’d act all nonchalant at first, but as he chews at his gum obnoxiously, he couldn’t stop the smirk from curling his lips up. Even his friends would shove at his shoulders excitably. This shit is so high school, he’d think. It was time to make a move.

And so he did — he made sure everyone saw too. Pulling up in his truck out the front of the club, graciously turning down the Future song booming from the speakers to wind his window down and lean out of it with that million-dollar Cameron-man smile. “You leavin’ here by yourself? Look, let me drive you, ‘kay? Been meaning to talk to you anyway, beautiful.”

He’d made sure everyone saw you climbing into the passenger seat of his car. Rafe and the new girl. If Rafe had swooped on her, she was pretty much off the market. Word spread fast, and you were his before he’d even asked you to be. Things took off fast, and with Rafes status came your own. You were untouchable, unpunishable, Kildares sweetheart. A mystery to some. Where did she come from? Is it true X tried to take a shot at her? Everyone knows she’s Rafe Cameron’s girl.

The rest is history — dates, excessive spoiling, meeting The famous Ward Cameron, Rafe breaking that virgin cunt in the same night. Things moved at the perfect pace and you couldn’t be happier. Rafe just made life so easy for you, to the point where around him — you were completely on auto pilot, letting your boyfriend do all the thinking. You figured that’s where you earned your nickname and likeness. A bunny, he’d always compare you to.

Whilst you had this Marylin Monroe sort of allure about you that never failed to draw him in, you were wide eyed and innocent like a bunny rabbit. That, and the way you bounced on his cock, and lest he forget the way your nose twitches when you’re upset. Those were recognised as bunny-like tendencies, so for Rafe — the designer shoe just seemed to fit. You sigh, reminiscing on when Rafe had pushed that bunny tail plug into your ass for the first time as you walk through the gates to the County club. Clearly, you were in a mood today.

“People are lookin’ at me.” You giggle with your cheek to his chest once you find him, careful not to smear your blush on the delicate fabric of his polo once more.

“Maybe it’s ‘cos they can practically see your tail stickin’ out the bottom of your skirt. Pull that shit down, would you?” He complains, but does it for you all the same— ringed hands sliding round down your ass to yank the material down enough for him to be satisfied. You let him, enjoying the feeling of his coarse hands on you— knowing the material was only due to slide right back up as soon as you take a few steps.

The sun burns bright that day, and as Topper approaches the two of you on the grassy hill of the golf course— he holds his golfing glove above his eyes as a makeshift protection from the sun. He wears that expression that’s 90% teeth, smiling as he slides over. “And will I be seeing this lovely lady at the party down at Crystals tonight?”

“A party?” Your back straightens in excitement, neck craning to look up at your boyfriend, who’s jaw tightened at his friend.

“I’m there on business, remember Top?” He blinks a couple of times like he was trying to send a message telepathically, and Toppers face falls a little. Your boyfriend looks to your hopeful expression, sighing a little exasperatedly. “Gonna be there for like an hour. Max. Just pushin’ product, baby. Shits boring.” He waves you off and your brows furrow, following him when he peels away to line up his ball.

“But I like parties! What product Rafey?” You mewl, laying a gentle hand on his playing arm, making him briefly stuff his tongue between his lips to concentrate extra hard. He looks around for listeners before turning his attention back to you.

“Got some yayo on me. ‘Kay? Gonna make us a shit tonne of money.”

You furrow your brows. You couldn’t remember which drug ‘yayo’ was, and you wasn’t even aware of the fact he was selling again. He said he was stopping all that, but as he constantly drilled into your head — you supposed Rafe knew best. It wasn’t your business, and wasn’t anything you had to worry about. Truthfully, you cared more about putting together an outfit to wear to the mentioned party in question.

“Can I still come? I wanna come.” You bounce on your glittery sandals with a ditsy smile, the action making your tits jostle in your little top. Perhaps that was what convinced him, the boy squinting thoughtfully out across the golf course.

“Aaah…” He stresses quietly, lifting his arm to scratch the clammy skin of his forehead beneath his floppy bangs.

“Please dad, won’t get in the way.” You pout, standing on your tiptoes pleadingly. Topper coughs awkwardly at the nickname, still standing near by, rifling through his clubs. Rafe licks his lips before rolling his eyes.

“Alright, okay. But no gettin’ involved, a’ight? Got a little chatty with my customers last time. No more of that, got it?” He warns, throwing you a look over his shoulder as he begins to stance up, gesturing for you to move back so he wouldn’t hit you with his club.

Truthfully, Rafe didn’t like bringing you to parties. As much as he loved parading you around, he knew what he was like — and seeing tens of guys ogling what rightfully belonged to him got tiring. Especially when you were so oblivious, bouncing around pool parties with your tits nearly escaping your bikini, or dancing with your friends to the point of your skirt flipping up — giving everyone a show. He knows you didn’t mean it, you were ditsy as it was so with alcohol added you were a complete loose cannon. However, with each sip he’d take— his rage would only grow, always having to deal with your pouting when he’d make the two of you leave early so he didn’t pummel someone’s face in.

Plus, he was trying to mature now. Step into his father’s shoes. He didn’t even like partying at all the way he used to— it was strictly business now. An in and out job. Was harder to do that with you there.

You always forgot how well loved Rafe Cameron was until he brings you along to a function. His hand staying glued to the small of your back as he walks you through, heads turning — his name being called from all angles like he’s a celebrity. It made you snuggle up harder to his side, which he was alright with — he had no problem being extra touchy with you tonight whilst you wore that baby pink IAMGIA Demie set like you were doing it a favour. It shows more skin than Rafe was okay with people that weren’t him seeing, but he’d be with you all night, so he assumed it would be fine.

You fiddle nervously with the diamanté Hello Kitty sat on your chest when your boyfriend started to pull out the small bags with white powder inside. You didn’t quite understand the whole drug thing, but you knew for a fact you wasn’t the biggest fan of the way people acted when they were on it. They were loud, too grabby, scary. You push your cheek against Rafes side as people swarm him, asking for his supply. He’s cool and calm as ever, smirking in that way that made you want him all to himself.

“No hogging my shit this time a’ight? You get what you pay for.” He drawls playfully to the crowd, his hand thoughtlessly sliding to your waist to drag you gently out the way of the group that was forming near him. He turns his body a little, leaning down to your ear. “Wouldn’t mind grabbing me a beer would you baby? Got big boy business to attend to.”

You swan off to complete this task in a bit of a haze, you always got sort of dazed when you were with Rafe— mostly because being with him meant you got to switch your brain off and have him do all the thinking for you. It was a blessing and a curse, because now it’s been an hour and you forgot all about getting Rafe his drink, having found some friends to take some shots with instead.

You’re warm, stumbling giddily away from where everyone else is dancing as you approach the drinks table, pondering another. As you feel a presence appear up by your side, you tug your top up thoughtlessly, humming as you rub your glossy lips together. The strangers eyes fall to your little get-up, lip clamped beneath his top set of straight white teeth like a predator.

“I really love that little outfit. Looks great on you.” He calls out, with a friendly voice matching a friendly smile. It captures your attention and you whip your head to him, earrings jangling from the movement. You take the chance to look down at your ensemble before raising your glassy gaze up to him, ends of your lashes kissing your eyebrows.

“Oh my gosh, thank you!” You grin, wiping your clammy hands on the ruffle of your skirt. It was a compliment, sure — but in the back of your mind you surveyed the situation and he truly seemed like he liked the outfit, and didn’t seem creepy at all. He’s polite, keeps his gaze respectful (until you turn away, and he can catch a glimpse at your cleavage.) and friendly. You exchange names, before he ensues with the conversation.

“So where’s your friends? Left you all by yourself?” He reaches forward, pulling a piece of rogue fluff from your hair, chuckling adoringly at your carelessness as he tosses it aside. You spin around to where they previously were, met with no familiar faces and an empty space. You frown, glossy bottom lip sticking out when you turn back to him. Of course, it’s adorable.

Too adorable, thinks your boyfriend who watches you from across the room. He’s tightly clutching his own beer, stood chatting with his friends as he observes the situation — losing interest in the surrounding conversation all together. It had been an hour since he’d last seen you, and now here you were — parallel to him with some guy in your ear, making you laugh, fluttering those eyelashes like you always did. He ticks his jaw, tongue in his cheek as he stares you down. Waiting for you to come running over all guilty, ready to fawn over him.

The guy is suggesting your friends disappeared upstairs, perhaps a bathroom, a bedroom — anywhere he can get you alone to eventually work you out of your panties. You’re totally oblivious to it, shaking your head — having a reason against each of his suggestions. It’s frustrating, the way you won’t take the hint— but also the whole ‘bimbo’ thing was kind of doing it for him, unable to work out if you were a total slut or a total virgin, those doe eyes and innocent aura contrasting too heavily on the way your tits practically spill out of your top for either to give him a clear conclusion.

Rafe is mildly irritated, watching the way you bounce with each move you make— one wrong pose from your ass cheeks spilling from the bottom of your skirt. He keeps a watchful eye, until finally — your dopey expression meets his and your face lights up, traipsing over. Much to the Cameron’s surprise— you audaciously loop your arm around the guys bicep, dragging him with you.

“Rafey! Hi! Sorry about your drink, I forgot all about it.” You blink up at him, happy as a clam as you free your arms to affectionately stroke at his chest. He nods, lips parted as his eyes flicker over to the guy at your side— who’s face is slowly dropping in realisation.

“Yeah.” He responds, and doesn’t get to say much else because you’re dropping this sucker in it.

“This is my new friend! He’s helping me find my girls ‘cos I lost them.” You pout, and Rafe’s lip curls up into a smirk— gaze now completely fixated on the stranger.

“Friends huh? You uh, you makin’ friends with my girl, man?” He smiles, but it’s malicious— taking a step forward causing you to move aside. Your brows furrow, sensing the sudden shift in atmosphere, especially when Rafes two Kook attack dogs, Topper and Kelce tune into the conversation, which attracted even more eyes.

“I didn’t know, dude.” The boy seems to have lost all his confidence from before, shrinking several sizes as your tall boyfriend closes in on him.

“Ah, he didn’t know.” Rafe shrugs theatrically before turning to his friends— smarmy smiles on both of their faces at the interaction. “Guys he didn’t know.”

“Come on, man.” The stranger seems uncomfortable with the amount of attention the scene is already creating, more and more heads turning by the moment. You fiddle with your necklace again, twirling the thin chain around a manicured finger as you watch— unsure just what was happening. Your boyfriend claps a seemingly friendly hand onto the man’s shoulder, holding him tightly.

“Nah, man— tell me. You usually walk around at parties… alone… making friends with drunk chicks? That’s uh, yeah that’s a little weird man.” Rafe laughs, so naturally everyone laughs. It’s clear your boyfriend is set on humiliating this guy for talking to you, and you’re not quite sure how you feel about it.

“Maybe you shouldn’t let your girl walk around dressed like a hooker if you don’t want guys—” The boy doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because in a moments notice — Rafe has swung his fist back and pummelled it into his face, hard. A crowd forms, and you nearly get shoved out the way by the sudden rush of jeering, drunk party goers. You gasp, watching the way Rafe straddles his squirming body, a meek attempt at fighting back.

“What was that? You wanna say that shit again, huh? Huh?” Rafe continues to beat on the guy who insult you, teeth grit, jaw tense. The victim attempts to push Rafe off, but Rafe pins him again — bigger and stronger by a mile. This only seems to anger him more, and you watch as Rafe wraps two hands around the guys neck, holding down until his face turned pink.

That’s when you notice that Topper and Kelce aren’t smiling anymore, instead pushing through the crowd suddenly to grab a hold of their friend, yanking him off the man on the ground. Rafe only shrugs them off once before letting them drag him away.

“Yeah? Yeah? Maybe you’ll think next time you try ‘n make some fuckin’ friends, bitch.” He spits as his farewell, before shaking free of his friends and grabbing a hold of your upper arm, all but hauling you out of that party at a speed and strength to where you were certain your feet were barely touching the ground.

The drive home is silent, and only then you start to realise that you might be in trouble too. You didn’t like when Rafe got like this, mad and scary. His temper was no surprise to you, he was always storming around with a sour look on his face, or slamming doors after the daily argument he’d hash out with Ward. All of these examples seemed like mild irritation in comparison to the rage you saw him succumb to only moments prior. He had this look in his eye when his hands were around that man’s neck, his pupil overtaking his iris. It was like he really didn’t mind hurting this guy real bad, and you wondered what would have happened if no one stopped him. Usually, for the most part he kept his anger relatively far from you. Now, with just the two of you alone— you were facing it head on.

The car is even more silent once he puts it in park on the Tannyhill drive. Both of his hands are on the steering wheel, knuckles split and bloody still from his attack, and you notice a speck of blood that didn’t belong to him on Rafes cheek, making you pout— fighting the urge to reach out and brush it away. Instead you stare, waiting for him to speak.

“You know, you — you really gotta be more careful with who you make friends with, baby. Look at this shit I… I had to beat his ass because of you bein’ too friendly. Me. I had to handle shit.” He bites, and you sink back into the seat, ashamed and upset. Perhaps he was right, maybe you did need to keep your wits about you more.

“Oh…” Is all you manage, sad and whiny like a kicked puppy. He licks his lips, shaking his head and finally turning his body to face you.

“What did I say about making friends with guys? Huh? Tell me what I said.” He tilts his head, blinking at you with wide impatient eyes as he waits for an answer. You suck in a shaky breath, wracking your brain for the last time you’d had this conversation.

“Um… I don’t—” You swallow thickly but it’s cut off by your boyfriend grabbing your jaw, forcing you to look at him. As if he’d hit some kind of panic button, two fat tears roll down your cheeks, bottom lip wobbling.

“What did I say?” He raises his voice and you let out a sad sob, sniffling as you try to compose yourself— speaking as clearly as you can.

“You— you said— any guy that approaches me doesn’t wanna be friends. He just…” You sniffle.

“He just what? Go on, finish that shit.”

“He just wants to fuck me.” You cry and he nods, letting go of your face to push his floppy, slightly sweaty bangs away from his face, puffing out a breath through his mouth.

“Get your ass inside.” He mutters, and you’re quick to do so, hopping up out your seat and to the front door, fumbling for your obnoxious keychains in your shoulder bag.

He follows closely once you’re by the door, oddly gentle hands on your waist from behind that guide you all the way to the stair case, giving your ass a pat as he sends you off to his room. You’re standing pathetically when he enters a moment or so after you.

You clasp your hands at your front, the picture of innocence. You weren’t crying anymore, but still looking devastated by Rafes unfortunate mood. He approaches you, looming over you with an unreadable expression and you yearned to reach out and touch the warmth of his skin through his shirt, or to kiss his naturally flushed lips— but you wanted to be a good girl for him. Make things right.

“Y’know the polite thing to do is apologise, sweetheart.” He drawls and you nod vigorously, words taking a moment to find you.

“M’sorry daddy! Really didn’t mean—”

“Actions…” He cuts you off, eyes fluttering. He places two hands on your bare shoulders. “Speak louder than words. Understand?”

“Huh?” You pout, and he presses on your shoulders just a little.

“You know what to do. On your knees.” One hand leaves you, beginning to work at his belt making you have a Pavlovian-like reaction, mouth filling with drool. You realise you’re just staring and he blinks at you. “What are you waiting for, huh? Now, please.”

You quietly drop, shuffling to get as comfortable as possible and begin eagerly fumbling to help with his belt, blinking up at him with wet doe eyes. You were surprised to see that your boyfriend was already hard — not just a halfie as things begin, fully hard. Maybe something to do with the adrenaline, maybe he thought you were sexy when you cried— who knew.

His pants drop to his ankles and he widens his stance a little, licking over his sore lips and softly grasping the back of your head, easing you closer to press kisses to his covered cock. Your need to please got the better of you and you impatiently tugged off his boxers too, starting to leave a trail of glossy pink kiss prints all over him as you let out your own moan of relief.

You were thrilled he was letting you do this. You didn’t like arguing, never able to think of the right words and always crying too much just like a baby. You couldn’t stay cross with Rafe, you simply loved him too much — so you were happy to skip all the hard parts and head straight to the end, where you got to make it all better and earn his forgiveness. Rafe was always happy after you gave him head, especially when you worked super hard, giving him plenty of attention where he needs it. You couldn’t wait to watch him relax.

It wasn’t long before you had the tip of his cock bruising your throat, spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth when you gag around him, trying your very best to get him to cum. It seemed he was close, letting out quiet groans and even stroking your cheeks with his thumbs soothingly which was your favourite thing he did. Your nose twitches, sore and watery as you pull back once more — gazing up at him with gloopy eyelashes and flooded eyes, all sweetly, searching for his approval. He gives you a lazy smile and it’s enough to encourage you to head back down to take him as deep as he’ll go.

You clutch his balls and massage as you deep throat him once more, and this time — the burning of your mascara infiltrating your eyes gets too much to handle and you close them, squeezing them tight as you pull back ever so slightly to work your tongue over his shaft. You’re met with a light slap on the jaw, causing your eyes to spring open— staring up all wide like you’d been caught with a hand in the cookie jar instead of wrapping round his ballsack.

“Open your eyes, yeah— fuckin’ look at me. Good girl.” He grits his teeth, and you know he must be close. You keep sucking until he’s milked dry, Rafes pretty bunny and her favourite carrot — swallowing every drop he had to offer.

All is forgiven, and the incident is forgotten about within a few weeks. It was a hectic time, Rafe barely having the time to bring up something that seemed so menial whilst dealing with the death of his father and the feud between his sister and the ‘pogues’ he always seemed to complain about. Rafe seemed to believe there was something gold that he was owed, a cross or something like that. You wasn’t sure. You’d only picked up enough information through overhearing phone calls to his old dealer Barry, in which he’d promptly close the door to obstruct your thoughtless eavesdropping when he’d realise you might be listening.

He seemed to have moved on very quickly from his father’s demise. Oddly enough, his grieving period only seemed to last a few days. You didnt press him on it, it didn’t feel right to do so. You’d learnt from some reality TV show about rich housewives that sometimes when someone loses a person close to them, they don’t even act that sad at all because they don’t want to deal with the big feelings. You wondered if that’s how Rafe was feeling. However, you couldn’t help but also wonder if your boyfriend was in a way relieved to finally be the man of the house. Maybe that’s why he’d started wearing some of Ward’s clothes, demanding you call him ‘dad’ more often.

♪ ‘WHEN I SUCK IT I LOOK IN YOUR EYES

YOU BETTER FUCK ME LIKE YOU MEAN IT!’ ♪

You hum along happily the song you’d grown so fond of playing from the AUX of Rafes truck. Saturday, your favourite day of the week. Your boyfriend had been doing a lot of stuff, lately. Going to a lot of places without you. There was something secretive about the way he’d disappear into his father’s office with Barry, ‘handling business’ for hours and hours on end. Again, it became clear that all of this kerfuffle was clearly about the mysterious gold you’d hear about. Honestly, you didn’t care to ask questions. The only gold you cared about was the glitzy gold chain delicately wrapped around your ankle, a sparkling ‘RC’ pendant dangling off it, Rafes initials. You stretch your leg out in the car, admiring the way it hangs off your smooth limb.

He could spend all week handling business and getting shit done, but Saturdays? They were your days. Days and nights spent out together, always winding up back at your place where he’d stay round. You always had a free house at the weekends, so what better way to spend it than wailing into a pillow with your boyfriend balls deep inside of you?

The journey is cut short when Rafe slowly pulls up outside your house, putting it in park and yet making no move to even remove his seatbelt. You look out the window at the familiar setting before whipping round to look at him in confusion, batting your fluffy eyelashes.

“I’m… afraid you’re gonna be on your own tonight, bun.” He scratches his cheek, a guilty habit you were usually too flustered to pick up on.

“Huh?” You mewl, brows furrowing, body sinking down into the seat in refusal. “But… it’s Saturday. Did you forget, silly?” You pout, your words doing nothing to convince either of you that he had simply forgotten.

“I’ve got business to handle tonight. Really important stuff that you cannot get involved in. Okay? Need you to be at home, and stay out of it alright?” He’s serious, wide eyed and speaking slowly to ensure not a drop of information slips away from you as you blink at him all lost and sweet. He didn’t like disappointing you, and sure — he would rather spend his evening with his dick nestled in your wet warmth, but this was something that had to be done— whatever it was.

“But Rafe—” You go to protest, but he cuts you off with a firm hand on your jaw stopping your speech all together.

“Alright?” He searches your eyes for confirmation. The way he grabbed you reminded you of the time he was mad at you, and if he was really going to leave you lonely tonight — you figured it was best you leave things on a positive note and behave yourself. You blink sulkily at him and nod.

“Yes, dad.” You sigh out your nose and his expression softens, nodding in approval with a small smile.

“Thats my good girl.” He uses his grip on your jaw to pull you in, delivering a sloppy kiss to your lips and even rewarding you with the wet warm muscle of his tongue rolling over yours a few times for good measure — yet pulling away before you got too needy, because then he knew you’d never let him leave.

You’ll admit, you started to huff and puff once you’d left his side. It was Saturday, your Saturday — and maybe you were spoiled, but going out for brunch with your boyfriend and then having him drop you home was not nearly enough to satisfy your needs, especially after he’d been gone so frequently lately. You’d gotten yourself into quite a mood, nearly stomping right past the package that had arrived through your door.

You tear it open, alone in your house and for a brief moment your face lights up — the new butt plug Rafe had purchased for you online after you’d begged and begged sat in the cardboard box. Much like your other one, it was a bunnies tail— but instead of pink, the obnoxious puff on the end was fluffy and white, like a real Easter bunny. Your grin melts off your face right back into a sullen pout when you remember that Rafe wasn’t here to help you put it in, or play with it, or tell you how pretty it looks in your ass. You stomp your foot, anklet jangling. This wasn’t fair.

The sun goes down after hours upon hours of boredom, and you try to preoccupy yourself. You redo your hair all pretty, you fix up your makeup, you play dress up in your closet. The new plug is slicked up between your fingers, your bottom lip tugged between your teeth as you ready yourself. You never had to put your own bunny tail in, Rafe was always around to do it for you — have you sprawled over his lap, his hand pulling your cheeks apart and saying “Good job, stop tensing up would you?” You’re squirmy and whiny all alone, upset and petulant about the fact he wasn’t around. You felt… what was the word again? Neglected.

You press your cheek to your pristine bed covers, arching your ass in the air with an arm snaked uncomfortably round yourself, the difficult angle making it hard to push your tail in. You groan at the stretch from the cool metal, pussy drooling as your eyes flutter closed and you imagine your boyfriend doing it all for you, as intended. When it was snugly pressed inside of you, you giggle hazily — waving it in the mirror to get a good view. Pretty, you can almost hear his voice tell you how pretty that tight ass is, and you yearn to hear it in person.

You decided you weren’t going to take no for an answer. Rafe needed you, you knew it — perhaps he’d been isolating himself to deal with his big feelings, and you couldn’t take it any longer. You’d come to the decision that you were going to dress up so sweetly for him, march over there and make him feel all better with the warm embrace that was your cunt— or your mouth, or even your hand. Whatever your man needed, you would deliver.

You slide on some white, lacy lingerie. When you’d purchased it, you’d hoped it would remind him of wedding-wear, planting the idea that he should totally marry you, put a big glittery rock on your finger. Something that signified that he never, ever wanted to lose you. It was bunny-like in nature too, a hole slotted in the panties especially to fit the puff of your bunny tail through it— perfectly cohesive with your whole look. You’re quick to drag on more white, taking the form of a tight crop top and a skirt that unsurprisingly barely covered the fold of your ass cheeks where your thighs begin. In no time, you’re tottering down the street in kitten heels, clutching your purse to your side. You’d decided to walk— and by decided, you meant you didn’t have much choice — bound to being Rafe’s pretty passenger princess, full time.

An all white outfit was innocent, virginal, wedding-like. He couldn’t say no to you like this, surely not— you convince yourself as you stride street to street beneath the lights of street lamps. Kildare was safe, you seemed to think so anyway. Rafe disagreed, said there was lots of stuff you didn’t know— but you’d never seen anything too bad with your own two eyes.

Half way into your journey, your quiet muttering to yourself going over what you’d say when you got to Tannyhill was interrupted by your surroundings suddenly being tainted with a flashing blue and red glow. The rumble of a car pulling up beside you alerts your attention and you whip around to look, being met with the concerned gaze of Shoupe in his Sheriff car.

“Hi officer.” You wave politely.

“Can I ask what you’re doin’ wandering the streets at night by yourself? Not safe to be walkin’ about with next to nothing on, young lady.” He appears stern and your brows furrow, wondering if you’re in trouble. You hadn’t been questioned by a police officer before, they had come sniffing around after Wards death, but Rafe was always there to answer all the tricky questions for you. You whimper like a confused puppy.

“I—I missed my boyfriend so I wanted to go n’see him.” You whine, fists balled nervously at your side. It probably didn’t help that you were already riled up, so this was just immediately too much for you.

Shoupe recognised Rafe Cameron as your boyfriend and his eyebrows raise, purely at the fact that whilst he respected the Cameron family — he couldn’t fathom missing a spoilt brat like that.

“You know I got a niece of my own, about your age — I wouldn’t be lettin’ her walk the streets like this alright? Why don’t you give someone a call? Where are your parents?” He shakes his head, and now you’re super fed up.

“I don’t — am I in trouble? I had to walk because I failed my driving test and— and my parents go away on weekends I— I just miss my boyfriend and I want to go to his house! I don’t understand why you’re asking me stuff—” You start to cry, stomping a mini heel on the ground making the officer sigh, closing his eyes for a moment regretting stopping all together.

“Not my circus, not my monkeys. Don’t get paid enough for this crap.” He mutters to himself before opening his eyes and plastering on a forced smile and leaning his elbow out the open window. “‘Know what? Don’t you worry that head, young lady. Be safe, I’ll let you get on with it.” He waves before pulling out the parking space, leaving you waving him off tearfully— continuing your journey.

You wipe your tears, happy that you’re finally approaching Tannyhill— not long now until you’re back in your boyfriend’s arms. Sure, you were directly disobeying his one rule to stay home and mind your business tonight, but it wouldn’t be the first punishment you’d faced from Rafe — and the thought of having his hands on you in any way was delightful — so you’d be more than happy to pay the price.

Your shoes crunch carefully down the drive, blinking up at the grand historical home before you. You always loved being there. Being at Tannyhill with Rafe made you feel like he was the president and you were his first lady, ruling over Kildare in your very own White House. The fantasy whisks you away for a moment, and it takes you a couple of slow seconds to realise no one has responded to your knock at the front door. You wiggle the handle, and for once — it doesn’t open. You frown. Rafe was home, right?

You hum in confusion, trailing around to each window — looking for any signs of life as you call his name. “Rafey, are you home? It’s me…” You all but whine, growing increasingly more frustrated. Had you really walked all that way in the dark for nothing?

You puff out a dramatic breath, gathering yourself. Take a look around, you command yourself — use your big girl brain for once. Rafes truck was on the drive, and the lights were on in the house — so you figured it was fair to assume he was indeed home. The only thing out of place was the large van parked haphazardly on the drive. It wasn’t unheard of for unknown vehicles to be at Tannyhill. All sorts of people were in and out the gates for transport purposes whenever Ward would find something new and extravagant to auction off— but Ward wasn’t around anymore, and something tickled your curiosity enough to step towards it, questioning what it contained.

The large back doors are left ajar, so nosily you tiptoe over— fingers wrapping around one to pry it open some more, standing on the toes of your kitten heels to look at what would remain inside. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, and for a few seconds you’re not met with anything of interest. Boxes, crates— nothing extraordinary. Your eyes drop down to the floor of the van, and you freeze. Surely not.

The body of a man lies dormant in a pool of distinctive crimson. He’s frozen up, like he’s scared or had been turned into a statue. His skin is pale, and his eyes are open— unblinking. You hadn’t seen many bad things in your life, hell— Rafe had even put you on a restriction from horror movies because you just couldn’t handle them — but what you were looking at was unmistakable. You were staring at a dead body.

You draw in a shaky gasp, and a heat wave of panic overcomes your body. It begins in your chest, and spreads through you like a virus — to your stomach, and then your arms and legs all the way to frozen stiff fingers and toes. You jerk back, hand flying up to cover your mouth as you stumble back a few steps, fresh hot tears brewing in your waterline. “Oh my g—”

Your whimper is cut short, the sound punched right out of you when you back up into something hard and firm. You jump out of your skin, yelping as what you walked into sprouts arms and whips you around at lightening speed to face it. Rafe, your boyfriend holds you infront of him, enraged. For the first time in your life, he terrifies you. “Told you to stay home, kid.” He spits out before spinning you back around and manhandling you into a lift, arms round tightly around you as he lifts you off the ground.

You go to scream, you even go to run— from your own boyfriend, something even a few moments prior you wouldn’t be able to fathom. He only grips you tighter, and this time covers your mewling mouth with a firm hand as he wrestles you inside, dragging you through the house.

As he tugs your flailing, panicking body up the stairs — you catch sight of Rose who lingers on the stairwell, watching with wide eyes.

“Rafe? Rafe what did she see?” She hisses urgently, alarmed by the way her step-son was handling his girlfriend.

“I’m handlin’ it.” He drawls out, seemingly irritated by her presence as he pushes you down the hallway.

“Don’t hurt her, Rafe.” Hurt her?

He all but launches you into the bedroom and you fly away from him, on the verge of hyperventilation. You paw at your eyes, wiping away the tears as you sniffle watching his every move. He moves slower now, locking the door which causes your heartrate to spike once more.

“Why the hell are you here?” He blinks at you irritably. “Huh? After I specifically told you to stay home.”

“I missed you.” You cough out a wet sob, trying to gather your thoughts enough to ask the valuable questions. Like, what was going on? Who was the dead body?

“You missed m— so we’re just… disregarding my rules now. The — the shit I tell you to keep you safe? Keep you out of allllll the dirty work I gotta do to keep shit afloat?” He’s mad, squinting and shaking his head.

“Did you kill that man?” You raise your voice ever so slightly, coming right out with it. The forwardness shocks you, but Rafes expression simply flattens, shoulders dropping a little before he sighs, shaking his head with his hands on his hips.

“No, I didn’t.” He makes a point to emphasise the ‘I’, which only reels you off into more confusion. “But… it’s my problem now. A’ight? So — so I gotta step up and handle it alright, look at — hey, look at me baby— okay, I’m a proactive person — I — I was handed a problem, and now I’m fixin’ it. Me. You understand that?” He’s walked right over to you now, and you’ve backed up away until your legs hit his bed causing you to sit down with a bounce. He crouches over you as he rambles, a hand on your shoulder to keep your attention. He has thrown a lot of information your way, and you try to follow along — eyes wide and head shaking slightly in response.

“Rafe— you’re scaring me. That person was dead you — you have to tell the police! I saw Shoupe on the way here, even talked to him — why — why don’t you just call him up n’tell him?” You whimper, breath catching in your throat between every couple of words.

Your boyfriend stands up straight suddenly, blinking like he’d been snapped out of his wide, watery eyed trance.

“You— you saw— what do you mean you saw Shoupe on the way here?” He glares and you shrink, feeling like you’ve done something wrong but not quite knowing what.

“He stopped me on the way here n’I told him I was comin’ to see you.” You pout.

“Oh, that’s…” He begins to pace, before barking out a soft laugh, hand rising to scratch his cheek. “Yeah that’s uh, that’s perfect really.”

You tilt your head, jostling your hoop earrings in the act. “What are you talking about?” You felt nervous for his answer, and unsure as to why that was.

He stops his incessant pacing, turning to you with an amused and yet somewhat deranged grin. “You’re in this now, baby. You n’me.” He gestures to the two of you with a finger as he slowly prowls closer. “So— so Shoupe knows you were on the way here at,” he lifts his arm, checking the watch beneath his Northface fleece. “Around this time frame. Right? So really…” He closes in on you fully once more, bending at the waist to look at you eye to eye. “If… if you turn me in, we’re goin’ down together. How’s that sound, huh— think you could handle jail baby? You think they do mani-pedis in prison?” He jokes, smirk only growing when your eyes widen. He was being cruel.

“Stop! I— I would never tell on you Rafey!” You start to cry again, and he nods slowly in approval, licking his lips. “Don’t wanna get locked up.”

“Yeah, well. All you gotta do is keep that pretty mouth shut. Think you can do that for me baby? Think you could… keep this little secret just for me?” Even now, he had a way with words. He made you feel special, like teaming up with him was something to be so proud of. There’s a warmth in your chest from the way he speaks to you, but a pit in your stomach at the guilt from feeling this way. You were dizzy with conflict.

“S’just too much, daddy. I dunno, what if I make a mistake? Just so dumb sometimes.” You sniffle, going to cover your face but he bats your delicate hands out the way with his own palms, cupping your cheeks to force your attention on him.

“Hey, hey. Gotta… use that bunny brain sometimes baby. Yeah? Gotta think about what might happen… if anyone finds out.” His voice softens with each word, invading your personal space until his warm breath fanned over your face comfortingly. He had a way of breaking you down to something so regressed and yet primal, pure putty in his criminal hands. Somewhere in the back of your hazy brain you felt this might be a tactic to get you on his side with all of this, but the words wouldn’t find you. “You’re my good girl, alright? Know you can do it…” His lips softly press to yours, and he starts to kiss you slowly, sensually, like he had all the time in the world.

You get lost in the kiss, it’s only natural — with the way his tongue wrapped itself skilfully around yours. He finds himself sat on the bed beside you, pulling you to perch on his leg as you succumb to the makeout session. He was really good at it, so talented at getting you wet and squirmy with just his mouth on yours. It feels like ten minutes of this have possibly passed by when your brain starts to ring out the alarm bells once more, warning you of your predicament. Your heart starts to pound and you pull back a little, eyes shiny and wide as they gaze into his lustful pair.

“M’scared.” It comes out quiet and he shakes his head, in total refusal of this.

“Shh, shh. How ‘bout you turn that brain off for a while. Yeah? Let me handle it.”

You suck in a shaky breath, swallowing thickly as you try to keep the panic at bay in his tight hold. “Can’t.”

“Yeah. You can. Can start by taking all these clothes off.” He drags his hands over your body, messing up the fabric in its wake. “Came over just lookin’ all pretty… would hate to ruin a night like this, right?” He talks slowly like you’re dumb and it only makes you ooze more, finding yourself nodding eagerly, sniffing back the tears and hopping onto your feet to kick off the kitten heels, dropping an inch or so in height.

Rafe tugs your skirt down as you pull your top over your head, and he hums in appreciation at the white lace adorning your body. “Mm, s’fuckin’ sexy.” He whispers, turning you by your hips to do a little spin for him, not able to help himself from giving your ass a sharp little smack and jiggle when he spots the new bunny tail poking through. “This one’s new, huh?” He drawls, giving it a little tug making your knees buckle, turning to clamber back onto his leg.

“Mhm.”

“Yeah. Wanna keep these on, yeah?”

You nod, and he’s kissing you again, handsy as ever as he caresses your soft skin. He’s being nice, for now. It usually started off this way before he’d get too impatient but you knew he was being extra nice for the purpose of persuading you to side with his unforgivable actions. Your criminal boyfriend drags his hand down your stomach, two finger pads rubbing circles over your clit through the lace making you groan out a cracked and desperate sound against him.

“Turn around.” He whispers, aiding you to sit between his legs, leaning back against him. Once in this compromising position, he peels your soaked underwear to the side— sliding his fingers through your messy folds. “God damn, weren’t lyin’ when you said you missed daddy— that right?”

“Just… just missed you so much.” Your eyes flutter shut, and you do find yourself relaxing more and more against his warm body, a clammy hand clutching the zip of his grey fleece, shuddering from his skilful touch.

After stroking your clit, causing you to clench and cream around nothing for a while, desperate moans sure to be heard by Rose if she was worriedly lurking in the hallway, Rafe started to push his thick fingers in, humming and licking his lips hungrily as your greedy hole swallowed him up, the long digits squelching from your copious tsunami of arousal.

“Oh daddy!” Is all you can say as he curls them just right, working you quickly towards your finishing point. As you drop into that Rafe-obsessed headspace, nearly at the crowning of your orgasm— his deep nasally voice rumbles from behind you, attracting your attention. As he speaks, he pulls his fingers back just so only the tips still remained inside you, and kept them there even when you wriggled your hips trying to get them in further.

“So… what are you gonna say if someone asks you where you were tonight? Huh?” His voice carries a threatening tone, which makes you pout at how totally unfair of him it was to work you into brainless mush and then ask you such an important question.

“I— uhm, I don’t—” You whimper as you writhe in his lap. He pulls his fingers out of you completely and in one fluid movement slaps your pussy, causing you to cry out in sensitivity at the harshness on the cunt he had spread open on top of him.

“Where?” He grits his teeth and you pant.

“At home, daddy!”

He seems satisfied, and slowly he sinks his fingers back inside you, causing you to release a relieved whine, liquifying against his body once more. “See? Not as dumb as you look, bunny girl.”

The words cause tingles to run through your very being, and as he continues to finger fuck you— you’re brought very close to the edge, very soon.

“Mmph— dad, g’nna cum!”

“Yeah? Gonna cum just for dad?” He lilts sympathetically in response.

“Yeah!”

“Yeah?”

Just like that, he pulls his fingers out of you — and before you have the chance to complain or even let out a petulant whine, he’s forcing your mouth open and stuffing his soaked fingers inside, all the way down your throat.

You slap at his wrist, gagging wetly as he holds your head against him keeping him still. “Yeah, that fuckin’ hurt? They’ll do a lot worse to you in prison, sweetheart. Can tell you that for free.” He finger fucks your throat for a few quick beats before drawing them out, letting you suck in harsh breaths. He wipes his fingers on your cheek before giving it an affectionate pat. “Haven’t earned the right to cum just yet. You understand right?”

You sniffle, starting to cry again. This whole ordeal was clearly upsetting to you, and Rafe was just treating it like it was one big loyalty test. All you wanted was to be with him, kiss him, touch him — and he was just being so mean.

Your tears do nothing for your case. Suddenly and aggressively, your boyfriend grips the back of your neck and forces you down into the mattress on the bed, your ass lifted obscenely in the air — panties still forced to the side with your tail-stuffed hole and drooling pussy on full display to him. Glitter refracts off your cheek when you turn your head on the bed, trying to get a look at him.

“Would you look at that?” He twiddles with the fluffy tail and you groan, body softening slightly and pussy dribbling. “Doesn’t take much. Does it baby? Yeah. Dressed up all sweet for me, you uh—” He chuckles at the cruel joke before it leaves his mouth. “Wouldnt take you for an accessory to a crime.”

You let out a pitiful sob and his jaw ticks in irritation, leaning right over you, jostling you a little so he could talk right in your ear. “Quit. That guy you saw in the truck was a bad man, alright? Worlds better off without scumbags like him. I don’t… I don’t wanna hear you’re feelin’ all bad about it. I always make the decisions, right? Daddy always knows what to do, right?” He demands aggressively, spanking your ass hard when you don’t respond immediately.

“Yes daddy you— you always know!” You wail, distraught and he nods, lips parted and jaw slightly agape — fighting his belt off his body to yank his pants down just enough to pull his dick out.

As much as you enjoyed showing your tail off to Rafe, wiggling it against his pelvis, tickling his tanned skin with the fluff each time he draws his hips in — you were actually a little disappointed you weren’t getting to be on your back today. You craved the closeness, the kisses, getting to see his pretty cock collect all your glittery slick as he fucks into your glossy hole. Instead, he pushes in from behind and sets a punishing pace, balls slapping against you as he holds you down, forcing your arch into place. With each thrust, comes a quiet grunt of his own exertion — the days frustration being worked out on you.

This lasts for a few minutes, Rafe slightly changing things up like adjusting your position or putting a foot up on the bed to dig you out even deeper. Your cunt was so sloppy it was audible, squelching with each roll of his agile hips. From the way he had previously stolen your much needed orgasm, you could tell you weren’t going to last much longer, fucking desperately back against him as you sobbed.

“Shit, why you fuckin’ crying so much huh? This not enough for you, princess?” He taunts breathlessly, squeezing your hips for an answer.

“Miss you Rafe, want you— want you nice!” You’re shaky, forcing in a painful breath as you cry— mascara making a mess of his sheets but he didn’t care about that right now— too focused on the way your ass jiggled against him with each thrust. As perfect of a view this was, he couldn’t tolerate the tears and flipped you onto your back, forcing your legs up over his shoulders.

As he slots himself back in, he shakes his head— floppy hair sweaty, some of it stuck to his forehead. “There? Happy? Y’gonna stop cryin’ now, hm?” He drawls, speeding up his pace once more, indulging in the way your tits are escaping the lacy cups of your bra. He palms at them greedily, helping free them out the top and he disappears into your neck, groaning as he hits a new spot, your hole sucking him in like it had a mind of its own.

He sucks marks on your neck. Proof you were here, he thinks in the back of his mind. He draws back to admire his work and is met with your tear-stricken, devastated face. All pretty with doe like eyes, gloopy runny mascara framing them, a single mink lash on your cheek. He swipes it away, unable to control the urge to press his body right onto yours and envelop your lips with his own.

He sucks on your tongue, holding you there with a hand gently round your neck as he possesses you entirely. The continuous slapping sound of his cock bruising your insides becomes music to your ears as you float away on a cloud, eyes struggling to stay open from the sheer amount of pleasure you were facing. As he softly holds you by your throat, like a farmer handling its first baby bunny — he feels that remaining amount of tension coursing through you. That last inkling of resistance, even if you didn’t know it was there. He slows his pace, grinding his cock inside you, massaging the tension out.

“Oh, little girl. Poor bunny, huh?” He coo’s, cradling your shaking, clammy body as you whimper, puffy walls spasming around his length. “All caught up in big bad Rafe’s problems, aren’t you. Yeah… well, it’s okay. I got you baby. You’re never gonna lose me, okay? You’re all mine.”

With your bodies connected, you gaze up into his eyes. All his, the words you adored more than anything. Your eyes drift over to his left shoulder where your anklet swings with each jostle of your body. ‘R.C’, the initials catch the light through blurry tearful eyes. All his.

A hand snakes between you, and when he presses down on your clit — your body finally gives in and you squeeze out a gut wrenching moan, legs shaking violently as you grip him, cumming hard and abundantly around his slick cock. He’s talking you through it, rolling his hips determinedly as you cum. You briefly catch his voice groaning out a “Thats my good girl. S’me and you baby. Don’t you forget it. Me n’you.”

You squirt out around him, soaking his abdomen, and whilst you might usually be concerned and embarrassed— you can’t think straight enough to consider that. He doesn’t seem to mind either, fucking into you as he chases his own high, mumbling words you couldn’t hear into your neck or mouthing at the fat of your tits as he’s spurting out his own thick, hot release.

Everything feels dreamlike after that, from the way he pulls out and smothers your hot face in sloppy kisses — to the way he lazily mops you up with a towel. You can’t process the pleasure you endured, and soon you fall asleep right there on Rafe’s bed, hot and feverish.

It must’ve been a good few hours you slept for, because when you wake to the soft warm touch of your boyfriend and his rings gliding up your back— your bleary eyes find the clock at his bedside to read 5:30AM. Rafe is dressed differently to how he was before, a black shirt you recall noticing in your immediate vision. He’s scooping you in his arms, sitting you up as you let out a disorientated whine, having trouble letting your brain catch up.

One hand strokes your cheek, to keep you awake— and the other strokes the fat of your hip, self indulgently. “So turns out, we’re uh— goin’ on a little trip. You like vacations, huh?”

You blink your sticky eyes at him, hand grazing the buttons of his shirt as your voice attempts to croak out a response. “Rafe, what’s —” Your brain starts to catch up, an unfamiliar and harrowing feeling spreading through your stomach— sinister and dooming as you remember the events that occurred before he’d fucked you and gotten you to fall asleep on his bed. Where had he been? So many hours had passed.

He cuts you off with a smile, a relieved smile — like all his problems had vanished, the corpse you’d found having just gotten up and walked away.

“Goin’ on a big boat. How’d you feel about the Bahamas, baby?”

#rafe cameron fic 🎀#bunny!reader

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absolutely-esme · 4 months

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What do you mean he's not eldritch?

What if all of the members of the Bat Family other than Tim Drake were secretly eldritch abominations?

They all work very hard at pretending to be human, and they've even gotten pretty good at passing. They can even mostly avoid the uncanny valley when in their civilian identities. There was a heck of a learning curve, but they've gotten things figured out for the most part.

Enter: Tim Drake

Weird, poorly socialized, probably autistic Tim Drake

The Bats think they've encountered a fellow eldritch being in disguise, and one that seems like he could use some help blending in. Naturally, they're quick to welcome him into their fold. Jason is delighted to take his turn at being a big brother mentor.

It takes a comedically long time for anyone to realize something's up because there is an absurd amount of overlap between stuff you need to know for masking and stuff you need to know to pass as human.

Meanwhile, Tim is amazed that the Bats have apparently decided he's cool enough to hang out with. It's like something out of his daydreams. They even have good advice for him on problems he hadn't known how to ask about. They are so patient and understanding about it, too. They never get annoyed with him for not already knowing. They also seem to be okay with the bits of weirdness he can't change.

Just weird kid Tim getting bundled into an incredibly helpful and supportive found family of eldritch entities. They're all going to get a good grade in human-ing, something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve.

...

I imagine the Bats are various different kinds of eldritch abominations because they're still adopted. They look wildly different when not in human form.

Bruce is a mass of... shadows? Smoke? Something dark and formless that shifts and flows in different ways depending on his mood.

Dick kind of looks like a pile of owls that is also somehow a single body.

Barbara is a spiral galaxy with stars that are also eyes somehow?

Jason is a solid-looking mass of muscle with six strong legs, a thick coat of shaggy hair, a mouth that opens much further along his body than it seems like it should, and even more teeth than you'd expect a mouth that size to have.

Stephanie Brown is kind of like an incredibly dense storm system with purple glitter.

Cassandra is a silhouette through which undiscovered nebulae can be seen. What she is a silhouette of depends on her mood.

Tim, they have only ever seen in his meticulously well-crafted human form. He's really good at that part even if he needed some help with the behavioral bits.

Damian is half human. Talia saw a mass of living darkness trying really hard to pretend to be a man and decided she was into that.

...

Dick: So, eye contact is actually pretty simple once you have the formula figured out. You need to cycle between looking at the other person and looking at something else at the appropriate frequency. If you look at them too much it will come across as staring. If you look away for too long they'll think you're not paying attention to them. You'll need to experiment to figure out the appropriate frequency.

Tim: *frets*

Jason: You don't have to look straight at their eyes, just in the general direction of their face.

Tim: Oh! I can do that!

...

I think Eldritch Bruce having history with the league of assassins in a markedly less inentional way than Canon would be funny. Like, you'd think an encounter between an eldritch abomination and a cult would be deliberate on someone's part, but no.

Bruce was still young and unskilled at differentiating between normal and abnormal human behavior.

#dc #batman #batfam #found family #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #stephanie brown #eldritch au #Eldritch Jason Todd #Eldritch Dick Grayson #Eldritch Stephanie Brown #Eldritch Barbara Gordon #Eldritch Damian Al Ghul #Eldritch Bruce Wayne #Eldritch batfamily #what do you mean he's not eldritch au

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lazyjellyfish300 · 5 months

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Mom and Dad are fighting on Christmas 🎄⛄🖤

Miguel O'Hara x wife reader

TW: MINORS DNI, angst, relationship and marriage troubles, fighting, insecurity, jealousy, postpartum, talk of divorce, mild smut at the end (p in v, idk to me it's mild, I've seen worse) word count 3.3k

Credit to the gif owner keezinemugstudent! 🙏🏽

Synopsis: your marriage to Miguel is on the brink of collapse. He wakes up and tries to fix it on Christmas. Jerry Maguire inspired. 😁

Valentine's Day spinoff sequel

Mother's Day ending blurb

I tried to write something angsty. Hope everyone had/is having a good holiday season! ⛄

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Miguel's in the doghouse and he knows it. You requested a separation after you reached your limit. The kids were sick in the weeks following Thanksgiving and before Christmas and he spent the whole time working late and coming home at suspicious hours in the morning, leaving you drowning. You and the kids were piled in yours and Miguel's bed when you'd hear him come home, the front door closing and his familiar footfalls dredging down the hall, pausing only at the fridge before passing out on the couch. Oh you hated him right now. The resentment had creeped in and poisoned the marriage inside and out when he became exceedingly obsessed with work.

Protecting the stability of the multiverse was a huge undertaking, but, like all things in his life, Miguel took it to the next level. But when it came to his personal life, he was grievously lacking. The passion where you two would do it twice a day and couldn't keep your hands out of each other's pants? Ancient history. The small pecks you'd trade in the mornings were a thing of the past. Gone were the days you two would text all day and go out for dates. You didn't so much as get an "on my way home" text, instead letting the sound of his car pulling in the driveway be your confirmation of his return. You two were more roomates at this point than husband and wife.

Traditionally, on Christmas Eve after the kids went to bed, you two would take that time for each other, eating the cookies for Santa that were conveniently your favorite kind, placing the presents you two carefully shopped for and wrapped (well, mostly you wrapped), under the tree. A hysterical giggle would escape your lips at the milk mustache on Miguel's face. Then you'd two get busy on the floor in front of the fireplace, fighting back laughter as you tried to keep your moans down, every year struggling a little bit more than before because your knees weren't what they used to be before taking it to your bedroom for one more round before the chaos of Christmas morning began.

He was perfect in the beginning. The romance between you two used to be at an all time high. He was a nerd in the same friend circle when you knew him in high school, wickedly smart, the guy who won the Robotics and Math Olympiad comps and got visits from Ivy League college STEM departments, eager to scoop up his talent. Sure, he was cute, but when he went to college is when you heard he had a major glow up and became kind of cocky. You heard about how he became Spider-Man and was pretty much the greatest thing since sliced bread in the eyes of the people, saving lives and fighting villains and all. You knew how the opposite gender seemed to malfunction and forget how to act around him, so you stifled away your tiny crush you had on him for years in the smallest crevice in your brain in a forgotten folder, never thinking it'd see the light of day.

When you saw him at your high school reunion, you decided to be brave and remark on how they're playing Nickelback, which he shrugged and said he actually enjoyed them, to which you sheepishly admitted that you really enjoyed them deep down too, you just couldn't resist making yourself the person to talk shit, since there's always gotta be one hater when Nickelback comes on. A canon event, if you will. This earned a tiny side smile from him, a chink in his stoic armor. After 8 beers, some flirty jests, and a little backseat rendezvous in his car, that became the last night that you two spent apart.

You were a single mom and he was a single dad. He had Gabi who was now 10 and you had Marcus who was now 6. Then you two had little Anthony together who was now 2. At first he was at all the doctors appointments, all the parent teacher conferences, he knew what the kids were doing in school. He did bed times every night, reading in a silly voice with Gabi and Marcus both balancing on his lap while you rocked baby Anthony, smiling when you heard the kids giggling from the other room. You'd walk in after baby Anthony fell asleep in his crib, your heart melting as you saw this handsome giant of a man usually known to be cold and serious to everyone else, turn into the doting husband and loving father you knew him to be. Now, years of the monotony of every day life, pressures of raising a family, and the dying egalitarian attitude you two had as partners snowballed into your own version of Gottman's four horses, leading your marriage to Miguel into apocalypse.

At first, he welcomed the separation as you two battled in the kitchen.

"You wanna separation, fine, I'll do you one better. I'll fucking leave! Felicia's better company anyway," he smirked.

There wasn't real truth behind his statement, but he knew it would hurt you when you heard it. He'd be lying if he said Felicia wasn't an attractive woman, but, she simply wasn't you. He had learned his lesson on cheating years ago when he fumbled his relationship with Gabi's mother.

Ouch. But his words could be daggers when he wanted them to be, and he knew just how to twist them into you. Of course it was Felicia. Felicia, the gorgeous Black Cat recruit from work. Her silvery hair that halted midway down her back and startling blue eyes that could drown any man in them. She didn't have kids either, a life with her promised excitement, passion, and freedom. She was witty and funny and had a way of making anyone in her vicinity listen when she spoke. And to add insult to injury, she had a killer body.

After giving birth, you became so busy, and with reassurance from Miguel that you were still beautiful to him, you let your desire to get your body to "snap back" sit on the back burner. Signs of motherhood and postpartum marked you with purple stripes running vertical on your soft belly and a new plushness to your thighs. Basically, Felicia was a complete 180 from the woman you were, which made the sting of his words that much more unbearable. He took your vulnerabilities and threw them in your face.

"Oh so you admit it, finally! I know there was something going on between you two. Makes sense. She's a gorgeous woman, right? She can fucking have you then. What, are you in love with her?"

Miguel rolled his eyes, annoyed with the superficialness of your statement and your obsession with looks, despite him reassuring you many times that he wouldn't look at other women.

"I'm not in love with her, but she doesn't nag me all the fucking time like you do. I bust my ass every day for this family so you don't have to work. I don't know who this new woman is that I'm looking at right now and what she's done with my wife, but it's not the woman I fell in love with. It would be nice if you could show me a little appreciation once in a while."

You felt your blood pressure rise.

"Appreciation.... APPRECIATION, are you fucking kidding me?! I was up all goddamn night with Gabi and Marcus. I run this fucking household all by myself. I quit my fucking career to stay home and raise your kids. Do you not understand how lonely that is?"

"I'M LONELY!!! " he yells, triggered, the feelings bottled up, fizzed over and hurtled at you like a cork on a champagne bottle. "How do you think I feel? I got women at work practically throwing themselves at me but I don't do anything about it because I'm a good husband. Meanwhile, my own wife doesn't wanna fuck me. I'm a prisoner in my own fucking house."

Your eyes almost slipped from their sockets from rolling them so hard. He seemed to want a cookie and a gold star for just being loyal, the bare minimum.

"Oh, so you wanna fuck them? Go ahead! Maybe I'd fuck you if you actually gave a shit about me and not like I'm some damn fleshlight you use to get off!" You hurl back.

He left and checked into a hotel down the street.

A few weeks had passed and it was now Christmas. You were getting used to being separated but your heart still ached in your chest. You couldn't go on doing life, when the one person you did life with was nowhere to be found. You couldn't listen to your favorite songs, eat your favorite foods, or even look at your own children without being reminded of him. Gabi was his spitting image. Same with Anthony. Even Marcus, who was his stepson, started adopting Miguel's mannerisms. The way he'd scratch his head while he did his math homework, deep in concentration.

It was Christmas evening at your mom's. You joined the other women in your family, your non-politically correct Aunt, your soft spoken sister-in-law, your mother with a don't-try-me attitude, and your younger sister with a sass to rival your mother's. You were all complaining about the men in your lives, your aunt rattling off about her 3 ex husbands but, 'hey she collects alimony from two of them so she can't complain!', your younger sister complaining about the frat guys at college who just wanna get in your pants, your sister in law who's silent the whole time (your brother treats her like a queen), and your mom about your asshole dad with an erratic mother who was incapable of cutting the apron strings and made her life a living hell. The kids are laughing and playing in the basement, eagerly trying out their new Nintendo Switch Santa left under the tree.

"I'm here for my wife."

Your feminine council meeting is interrupted by an unwelcome masculine figure. It's your estranged husband, Miguel, the coffee-colored strands of hair that hung over his forehead starting to wet from the snowflakes that melted under the warmth of the room as he stepped inside, a look of regret and longing embedded in his eyes that you hadn't seen since your earliest days of knowing him.

His strong hands dangled at his sides in fists, his chest heaving up and down. His navy blazer bearing dark water stains from the melted snow. He had a revelation at work. He and Peter B. stopped an anomaly that was terrorizing the streets of Queens in Peter's universe. The battle was close, almost a little too close to where he lived, putting MJ and Mayday in direct danger. After the job was done, the moving and emotional reunion between Peter B., MJ, and Mayday was his epiphany.

As the little family reveled in their joy and relief of evading the ultimate disaster, the only thing there for Miguel at the point of his return was the inanimate, empty, thin walls of his apartment and the thoughts of you, his severed family, that inevitably haunted him. He needed you back. He needed to apologize and fix it now.

He ran from your house to your mom's in the snow and all. It was the first Christmas Eve he spent not in between your thighs and buried deep inside you. It was the first Christmas morning he didn't wake up to Gabi's blueberry pancakes and Marcus tackling him while Anthony screamed in delight. It was going to be the first Christmas night without his family by his side, an uncomfortably obvious empty seat at the table he rightfully belonged. Next to you.

Sometimes you don't know the value of something until it's gone. Sometimes life gets in the way and you forget to appreciate the person in front of you. Why did I treat my wife like garbage when all she ever wanted was for me to ask how her day was? Why were we on our way to winding up like both sets of our parents? Doomed to repeat the cycle of divorce and hurt. Doomed to lose your faith in love and marriage like all the maternal figures in your family before you did.

Now here he was, in the living room while your mom, sister, and aunt moved towards each other, eyes squinting, three pitbulls willing to jump in on your behalf while your sister in law just stayed frozen in place. He was in enemy territory and he needed to choose his words carefully.

"Not here Miguel..."

"YES here. Right now." He says in a firm voice. "You're not getting rid of me, woman."

You scoff, almost amused by his sudden urgency and painting you like you're the one who wanted this family to be broken apart.

"The kids are downstairs..." you start to say, hoping that the mention that innocent ears could be prying into the adult conversation would help him simmer down.

"I'll see them in a minute." He says flatly.

"I miss my wife...."-he chokes on the last word, wife.

"And I want her to come home." He knew at any time his words would give way to the reservoir of tears built up behind it.

You stood there, incredulous.

"I don't want to come home to an empty apartment. I don't want my own bed. I'm ashamed it took me losing you and the kids for me to wake up. And, I'm so so sorry. I'll do whatever I can to be better. To be a better man for you and the husband that you needed. We both got caught up in real life and focused on the kids so much that we lost each other. Well, this is me trying to find my way back."

Your lips parted slightly as your breathing became heavier. This was all you ever wanted to hear him say. Stop neglecting the love between you two that laid dormant, a plant starved of sunshine. For him to finally shake off the stubborn shackles that was his ego and express himself to you. Let him allow you back into his heart, no longer as a guest, but a permanent resident.

"You're... you're everything to me. And I'm not leaving here tonight until you let me know if you'd allow me the opportunity to get hurt by you again," a tear rolled down his cheek, his scarlet eyes yearning, his hands pining for the feel of you. As though the madness of not having you alone could stop his heart from beating, stop his world from turning, rearrange life as he knew it into a hollow existence not worth seeing.

Your own reservoir could not be held back any longer and started to roll down your cheeks. He managed to peel back the walls you built with his apology, revealing the woman underneath who just missed her husband.

He steps closer to you now, eager to bridge the rest of the space between your bodies.

"You still love me?" he asked softly.

Your chest heaves, shoulders raising then falling sharply, feeling yourself crack with exasperation under his burning gaze as you softly answer,

"Never stopped."

He grabs you and pulls you into him, his embrace is tight as though you'd disappear if he dared to break it. He tangles a hand in your hair and presses his cheek into your head, his eyes closed, drinking in the scent he'd been away from for weeks. You bury your face in his chest, trying to make yourself small and allowing his frame to swallow you whole, not minding his wet shirt and blazer that still have a slight chill on them from the storm outside, allowing your body heat to seep into his. You both began to rock back and forth a little bit, still locked inside your hug. It was as though the passing of time had evaporated and it was only you two in the room, nevermind your family witnessed the whole thing.

After several long moments, you pull apart and he offers you one of his dazzling smiles, one you hadn't seen in months. The kids have made their way upstairs and shriek with excitement when they see their dad and Miguel bends down to scoop them up. You smile and stand beside your mom who scoops you into a side hug. With her blessing, Miguel stays and celebrates the rest of Christmas with you and your family.

Gabi, Marcus, and Anthony are now all tucked in. The sugar from the chocolate they consumed all day had worn off, making them crash hard in their beds. You and Miguel are cuddled up on the couch watching the fireplace, taking some needed time as a couple. You stroke his strong arms that are wrapped around you with your fingertips, watching the way the flames leap and spark in the air when they crackle against the charred wood. You look up at him and feel a wave of desire wash over you that you had pent up for months as you study his chiseled features and the way the fire's glow highlights his skin.

"Should we end this Christmas with a bang?" You ask, pun fully intended.

Miguel looks at you tiredly, trying to act like that wasn't a witty remark but he lets out a chuckle. "I'd love to," he whispers.

He takes both your cheeks in his large hands and brings his lips to you immediately. They're soft and full. You feel yourself melting into him every time he sandwiches yours in between them. He reclines you backwards, slowly, until he's on top of you. He lets the weight of his body and hips come down on you little by little, making you arch your back, so your body can better receive him.

Once he lets you taste his tongue, you open your mouth wider, permitting him to deepen the kiss, tossing kindle onto the growing flame between you two, and it's not the one in your fireplace. You take your turn to dial up the heat, seizing his bottom lip in a gentle nip from your teeth, earning a low groan from Miguel and a tightened grip on your hair.

As you continue your steamy makeout session, he begins to hump gently against your clothed body, a nonverbal plea for the wet friction only the inside of you can provide.

After your frantic hands strip each other of your clothes, you've transitioned so you're straddling him in the lotus position, goosebumps popping up all over your skin as your bare body meets his, a high pitched gasp escaping you as you sink down onto him, his mouth falling open and his eyes shutting closed as he breathes in your ear,

"God, I missed you, baby."

You whine into his neck as you coil your fists in his hair. His hands fly to the soft flesh of your sides, using them to move you up and down, his haggard breaths making you weaker and weaker by the minute. You hum,

"I missed you even more."

The next move of his hips is harder than you anticipated, causing your brain to go fuzzy with pleasure.

"How much?" he exhales in a sultry tone.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you all week,"your tone turning into pleading as you feel yourself approaching your limit.

Miguel can't help but feel himself lose his mind a little bit at your words and at your reaction, sensing you won't be able to hold on much longer.

He lays you down, while still keeping himself inside. He slows down to a more sensual pace, breathing in the sight of your wild hair clinging to the couch cushions, evidence of him hitting you in all the right spots every time the inner corners of your eyebrows squinch upwards and your lips fall open.

His loving eyes burn with worship of your body and how well you're doing as he runs a thumb along your chin then pulls down your bottom lip, leans in and mumbles quietly into your mouth,

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. O'Hara."

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🖤

#miguel o'hara #spotify #miguel x reader #miguel atsv #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #across the spiderverse #fanfic #miguel o'hara angst #Spotify #miguel o'hara smut

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gglitch1dd · 3 months

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Cheating DILF Izuku

Husband Midoriya Izuku x Wifey Reader

Note: This is just an angst story. IT IS NOT CONFIRMED PART OF MY STORY. It is not CANON. Izuku would NEVER cheat but if he did... it would be like this. I wrote this just to watch people cry.

Warning: Child loss, grief, Infidelity, Absent parenting,

You felt him shift behind you as his alarm rang. It was early in the morning and yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to get up and out of bed yet. There was a whole ocean of space between you and your husband. A gap that had not been crossed or touched in over six months. It felt so cold to even try and move from your side of the bed because you knew that the person you were reaching out to was just as cold and if not, colder.

You heard your husband get out of bed and move towards the bathroom to get ready for work. There was no more slow morning sex, or waking up in his arms or to kisses. Anything and everything was work or the kids. That was all it seemed your marriage became in the span of six months.

You let out a heavy breath as you slowly sat up in bed. You looked to the right over to the family photo on your side table. You, your loving husband and your five boys. Something that seemed so far away despite the portraits having been taken just a year ago.

You got up out of bed and moved to go wake up the boys. You knocked on each of their doors, making sure they would be awake to get to school. You moved to your youngest’s bedroom. The four-year-old was still very much asleep which you were glad for. You moved over to where he was asleep in bed, his eyes closed. You gave a sad smile, but you were glad he was so blissfully unaware of everything else.

You moved to head downstairs, getting bento boxes ready and also breakfast. It was the same routine but something was always different which you couldn’t help but be grateful for.

Just as you fried the eggs, your oldest sons came downstairs.

“Morning mom!” Asahi greeted as he moved to quickly kiss your cheek and immediately went to grab plates to set the table. You smiled at your eleven year old son, already dressed in his gakuran.

“Morning ma!” Another kiss went to your cheek as Hero, your seven year old came and passed by, grabbing cutlery to put at the table, seemingly already in conversation with Asahi. You smiled over at him.

Finally walking over to you, in not as much as a rush than his younger brothers was Toshinori, your eldest. He gave your shoulders a squeeze and a kiss to your cheek. “Good morning, ma.” He easily picked up on tending to the other frying pan, grabbing his apron with one hand so that he could help you. He did it without being told and yet you always felt so grateful for his help. He looked at you with kind eyes and curly green hair. “Did you sleep well? How are you feeling?” He asked.

You smiled over at him, so grateful you had such an attentive eldest son. “I slept fine, thank you Toshi. I hope you slept well too.” You wished as you turned off the stove you were working at and turned to finish your husband’s bento box.

“I slept well.” He told you sweetly. “Did… did any email or mail come in yet?” he asked.

You turned to Toshinori with a smile. He had been eagerly awaiting a letter from UA. You were just grateful that with everything that happened the last six months, your son managed to still train and go to the physical exam to enter UA High School. Although you were pretty sure it was a guarantee that he would enter the school, considering he had your husband’s quirk due to him being born quirkless too, Toshinori wanted a fair and equal trial just like everyone else. He wanted to be deserving of it and in every way he was.

You turned to him shoving him gently. “Hey…” he turned to you with slightly anxious eyes. You took a deep breath and he mimicked you. You took a second before you both breathed out. You smiled. “Everything is going to be fine. I told you, you’ll be the first one to read it the moment I get it.” You promised him. He nodded his head with a smile. He opened his mouth to speak but the heavy sound of footsteps interrupted him as finally your husband descended from downstairs.

“Morning dad!”

“Morning kiddos.” Your husband let out, his voice less chirpy than it was six months ago. Midoriya Izuku walked over to where you were in the kitchen, automatically grabbing a flask of hot made coffee that you had made for him. He was in his own world again. His eyes distant but his actions were trained. The autopilot you had all been on, kicking in.

You knew you wouldn’t receive a good morning from him.

You barely got him to notice you half the time now.

You cleared your throat as you closed his bento and packed it away. “Izuku, remember Asahi’s science project at school. The viewing is at two.” You reminded him as you grabbed a can of soda and placed it with the rest of his lunch that you packed.

“Y/N, you know I can’t make it.” You heard him talk as he grabbed an apple as makeshift breakfast, not bothering to have breakfast with any of you anymore.

You looked at him with a pained expression. “Izuku, you promised you would go.”

You heard a sigh come out of him as he grabbed his bag and finally looked at you, stopping for five seconds. Your large husband felt so far away from you despite not being more than three steps away from you. “Y/N, I’m the Number One hero of this country. I don’t have time to always go to every recital and function.” He reminded you.

You felt annoyance bubble up inside you as your eyebrows furrowed. Your grip on your apron tightened as you looked up at him. That was always his excuse nowadays. “Izuku, you have been so busy with work lately. It would mean the world to him if you showed up. He’s been getting into arguments at schoo-”

“Y/N, I have a meeting in less than an hour.” He dismissed as he started to turn to leave the kitchen. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll try make it if I get time.” He waved it off as he headed towards the entrance hallway, leaving you and the boys alone once again.

You bit back the emotions of annoyance and disappointment as you let out a sigh and turned to do something else, ignoring the boys and their silence as they watched. That’s how mornings were like now. Either Izuku buzzing by too fast to even get more than a sentence out of him before he’s out the door, or he’s never there entirely.

It had been like this ever since your second youngest, Shoyo had passed away.

A villain had attacked his primary school as revenge against heroes including your husband. Your little boy had sacrificed himself along with Hanta and Mina’s youngest child, Sero Kimiko. It was a dark day in your group of friends to lose two six year olds, innocent and pure. It was a horrible incident, an even more horrible case. Your husband and other heroes were on the scene one minute too late.

It was a horrible time for all of you. You barely could call yourself a human after the funeral and even during the hearing of state vs the class A villain, Jigsaw. You don’t remember most of it, all you knew was that you didn’t even get to see your little boy’s body one final time before cremation, because there simply wasn’t anything to hold.

You couldn’t imagine the horrific sight your husband saw that day, but he only truly began to change once the court ruling had happened and Jigsaw was sentenced to the death penalty. Your husband had moved further and further away from you, almost as if being near you and the boys was torture.

You couldn’t understand it at all, but you always made excuses for him. Even when it was Toshinori’s fifteenth birthday and Izuku wasn’t there. You told your son everything under the moon to make him understand, and he did. Because he loved his father that much. But there was only so many excuses you could give for so long.

With all the kids at school and you having taken Koda to kindergarten, leaving you alone for a few hours, you decided to clean Izuku’s study. The grand room was filled with papers and books, his laptop monitors all on from the long night he spent in here after coming home from patrol. You didn’t even know how he kept on moving when it seemed like he barely slept in your own bed. You didn’t question the times he wouldn’t come home for days on end, always saying he spent his nights at the office.

You ignored the smell of perfume on his hero suits too.

You walked into the room, moving to clear his desk and the multiple mugs of empty coffee. You moved to clear all the clutter, moving classified documents into a pile where he could find them all. He worked hard, it was something you always admired about him. It was the reason why the crime rate had more than halved in the last six months.

You heard a message pop up on his monitor. He had long time connected his phone to his computer, he said it made it easier to access things sometimes. Izuku also had a habit of leaving things on when he wanted to get back to it but always getting so whirled up in his head that he never did get back to them sometimes.

You made the ugly mistake of looking up at the monitor, your eyes reading before you could stop yourself.

You didn’t move.

You didn’t breathe.

You watched as message after message popped up.

Suddenly it felt as if your entire world had fallen underneath your feet.

Izuku dragged a hand through his hair as he came in through the door. It was past eight and no doubt, dinner had already been eaten in the Midoriya household. He had gotten so caught up in work and other matters that time just washed by. But that’s just how time seemed to pass ever since…

His eyes automatically went to the photo in the entranceway that sat beside a candle that was always lit no matter the time of day. A photo of a little boy, not older than six, with the brightest green eyes and the biggest smile. Hair so big and curly it almost swallowed him up whole. Inko had told Izuku when Shoyo was born, that he looked the most like him out of every single one of the boys, with the same sparkle in his eyes and smile that reached the stars.

Looking at him now only made Izuku feel nothing but never-ending guilt.

Taking off his shoes, Izuku got into the house. It was that soft time when homework was either being done or the boys got to destress before their busy days tomorrow.

“Dad!” Izuku turned to see his eldest. Toshinori had his hands in his pockets as he walked over to his father. Every day it seemed like the boy was getting taller, although he still hadn’t hit that particular growth spurt. He’d probably get it in second year of high school, like Izuku had. Toshinori seemed a bit apprehensive, knowing how his father seemed much more rougher than he was before. But he couldn’t blame him. Something in all of them changed six months ago. “Evening.” He nodded his head.

It took Izuku a second before mustering up a smile. “Toshi, how was school?”

Toshinori gave a look of surprise which hurt Izuku. How long had it been since he asked his son that question? “G-good!” He let out with a smile, so excited that his father asked. “It was great! Yah, Kane and I got moved into the first team for rugby! Coach said I could really get better as long as…” A soft blush went to his face as he scratched the back of his head. “As long as I learn to stop accidentally activating One for All when I get too worked up.”

Izuku let out an amused scoff but put a hand to Toshinori’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I struggled with that too even now. Just practise what I’ve already taught you and find a way to box it whenever you’re playing.” He advised. Toshinori perked up, his eyes as bright as stars as he smiled, glad to receive something from his father today. When last had he checked up on Toshinori and his use of One for All? Izuku felt sick at the thought. Izuku looked up to the empty kitchen. “Where’s mom?”

“Oh! She told me to tell you to meet her in your room. She said she had to talk to you about something. I’m not sure what.” He shrugged. “Must have to do with Asahi’s fight.”

Izuku nearly had whiplash as he turned to look back at Toshinori. “Fight? What fight?”

“Asahi got into another fight at school during the showcase. Didn’t tell me what about though.” Toshinori shrugged, but underlying worry in his demeanour.

Another?

Was this a frequent thing? Since when?

Izuku opened his mouth to speak but Toshinori beat him to it. “He’s been in his room since after dinner.”

Izuku nodded. “Thanks Toshi.” He turned to head straight upstairs. Izuku moved immediately straight into his mind at all this news. Fights? Since when did his eleven year old get into fights? Why wasn’t he told? Izuku was confused as he opened the door to your shared bedroom. He needed a shower and preferably a long night’s rest, but first he had to get down to this issue on Asahi. Your husband stepped into your bedroom. “Y/N, what is this I’m hearing about Asahi-”

“Close the door.” The tone in your voice had the green haired Number One hero freezing. It was eerily calm. It was horrifying because the only times you ever spoke like that was when you were angry. His eyebrows twitched as he looked to you as you sat on the other side of the master bedroom. The fire place in your bedroom was lit, which confused him because he didn’t think it all that cold to light a fire. Your eyes remained forward, your back towards him as you stood in the otherwise dark room. “Close the door, Midoriya.”

“Midoriya?” Izuku was confused. You hadn’t called him that since before you started dating, since third year of UA actually. It was an odd thing to hear come out of your lips, especially since you were Midoriya too. Izuku’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he stepped forward. “Y/N, what’s going-”

“Close the door.” This time you said it a bit more firmly, but you were careful not to shout considering your door was still open.

Izuku complied, closing the door behind him, because like everyone in your family, there were rules to your household. One rule was that only under emergency circumstances was your bedroom door to be opened without knocking or permission from the both of you. Another was that your bedroom was the one neutral place where you could both talk to one another openly and freely without worry of the kids and having to be mindful parents.

Or at least it used to be.

The room was silent and tensely so. You looked down at the fire the entire time, nothing but the sound of the burning of wood was in the room as you both stood at opposite sides of the room.

“Do you remember…” Your voice started, nearly startling your husband that felt as though he could break out into a sweat in any second. “When we started dating, you used to write me letters.” You spoke softly and yet Izuku could hear every word. He noticed then that there was burnt papers in the fire place and papers in your hand still. Pages of handwritten letters, of ink and passionate love sat in your hands. “Pages upon pages of images of your thoughts and emotions of me. Each one different than the other. Nothing was the same and yet they all carried the same undeniable feeling of you… Midoriya Izuku, the man I fell in love with.” You spoke with such delicacy, almost as if that feeling of receiving them was fresh inside you. “And yet,” Your grip on the papers grew hard. “Not even more than half a year after our fourth son’s death…” You tossed the papers into the fire, not even looking back at them as they crumbled and charred under the heat.

This was the first time Izuku saw you since coming back and the image of your face is something he would have scarred into him for the rest of his life. Tears flowed from your eyes, and yet the only look he could see on you was pure anger and disgust. You looked absolutely broken and Izuku knew in that moment that you knew.

“You cheated on me.” You whispered with such anger it almost felt like that was a slap in his face entirely. “Why?”

It was a simple question, and one that Izuku didn’t have the answer to. Izuku was shaking. He was as pale as snow and fear brimmed in his eyes for the first time in a long time and yet you didn’t care. He closed his eyes and breathed. “You know how hard it’s been for me these last few months. All the headlines and everyone saying that I wasn’t fast enough to save him. I… I’ve been swallowed up with guilt and grief.”

“You don’t think we all have?” You asked coldly, making him stiffen. You stepped forward with a scowl on your face. “I stay here and take care of our home, of our boys. Our boys who have the same face as their brother and I have to fight the urge to cry at every waking moment because I see him in their faces!” You shouted pointing at the door. “I’ve been grieving!” Your hand went to your chest, painfully so but you didn’t care how hard you squeezed. It didn’t compare to the agony in your heart that only reignited. “We’ve all been grieving! I’ve been begging you to talk to me! Telling you not to listen to the headlines and talk to me! To talk in therapy! You have no excuse!”

“I was weak!” He shouted back at you, angrier at himself than he could ever be at you. “Like always! Ochaco was there just as a friend and then it felt so easy just to talk to her and unburden with her and then…” He couldn’t say it. It felt too real if he said it. It was all just a dream to him. A fantasy he could indulge in for a few hours out of the agony. It meant nothing to him, not like how you mean the world to him.

You shrugged. “And then what? You tripped and fell into her cunt? What, Izuku!”

“I don’t know!” He shouted back at you. It was silent for another moment. “How did you find out?”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess it doesn’t.” He closed his eyes as he swallowed down the heavy pill.

This was it.

This was the end.

He had ruined everything all because he felt too much of a failure to face you and would have rather run to someone else than to you. His loyal and faithful wife. His loving wife. The woman that had given him everything. He felt a tear slip out of his eye as he looked down at the ground. He couldn’t look you in the eyes. Not when you knew. Not when you looked at him with the very thing he wanted to avoid in the first place.

He wiped his face. “Where are the divorce papers?” He asked in a whisper.

There was a beat of silence before a scoff came out of you. You folded your arms as you stood before him. “Divorce papers?” You asked almost as if it was funny. “Oh God, no.” Immediately, Izuku looked up at you in shock. You shook your head almost as if the very thought was unthinkable. “No. I’m not going to order a divorce. Do you know why?”

Izuku knew better than to give you a real answer. He decided to stay silent as he shook his head. The sound of your shoes on the floor was deafening as you walked forward to stand right in front of him.

You pointed to the picture on your bedside table. “Because of them.” You stated honestly. “Because of the four boys that we still have. That is the reason why I’m not getting the best divorce lawyer in this damn country. That is why I am not packing my bags and taking my children far away from you so that they can hate your actions just as much as I do.” You emphasised. “I love those boys more than I care for my own sanity and soul. I love those boys so much, I am painstakingly aware of the fact that I can never divorce you because I would never be able to take care of them without you. I love them so much that I know that they love you as if you hung the stars, Izuku!” You shouted at him, tears flowing down your face. A hiccup broke your voice but it didn’t stop you. “They love you so much and yet I know it would kill them to know what you’ve done! I refuse to let our sons hate you the same way you hate your father.”

That cold hard truth came crashing down on him like ice water. It chilled him to the very bone, and stirred his stomach making him feel sick.

Your jaw shivered with emotion, but you kept your head held high. “That is why I will not divorce you. I do not wish to inflict whatever more emotional trauma they could have after the last six months. So this is what is going to happen.” You folded your arms as you looked up at him. “Oh Izuku stop crying.”

He jolted as he hadn’t realised that there were tears flowing down his face. He moved a hand to his face, feeling the wetness of tears against his skin. He looked back at you. “Thank-”

“I don’t want to hear it, because I don’t care.” You cut him off quickly shutting him up. “I don’t care if you have every girl in the whole of Japan wrapped around your finger, but those women will never set a single foot into this house or into our children’s lives, do you understand me? If word gets out about this, you damn believe I will drain you dry Izuku. I will make sure that there is nothing left of your legacy that you have cultivated.” You hissed with pure intent in every word you said.

Izuku nodded his head pathetically scared of you (rightfully so). “Y/N, I promise you, I’ll never do it again! I’ll go to therapy again! We can go together. I promise I’ll change and-”

“I don’t care because you will never touch me sexually again.” You told him flat out. “We will act, we will pose, we will sing if we damn have to, to make our boys and the rest of Japan believe that we are somewhat of a functioning team at least until they are all out of the house. But Izuku know this…” You stepped forward as you looked up at him.

This was the man you had fallen in love with. A man who held your heart in the palm of his hand so easily that it was probably foolish of you to have loved him as much as you did. You loved Midoriya Izuku. You loved his smile, his muttering, his large scarred hands that held a world full of problems but still held you tenderly, you loved his laugh, you loved his heart. You loved the man standing in front of you.

“I love you.” You let out brokenly, taking the both of you by surprise. You nodded your head with a smile, a smile so broken it looked wrong on your face. “I love you, and you are the father of my children and my partner, but you will never again be my husband.”

Izuku didn’t move, he didn’t speak, he didn’t breathe. He was stuck there like a statue but you still continued.

“Now…” You brushed down your front. “I have to go give Toshinori his acceptance letter to UA. I advise you clean yourself up first before you go anywhere near my son.” You moved to walk right past him, your shoes deafening as you walked out the room closing the door behind him.

Izuku was motionless still, even without you in the room.

This was a worser fate than a divorce. Being trapped with the love of his life and never feeling her love back in return. Being married but never being your husband ever again.

“Morning mom!”

A kiss went to your cheek as you were finishing up breakfast. Toshinori smiled at you as he placed his hands on your shoulders. “Good morning, mom.”

You let out a chuckle, trying to fill in the void and hollow feeling inside you. You grabbed your eldest son, bringing him into a hug as he laughed. “There’s my hero!” he grabbed a hold of you, picking you up off your feet making you shout in surprise. You had forgotten that with One for All he had also inherited his father’s strength. “Toshinori!” You shouted out in surprise. “Put me down!”

He laughed and held you tight, but put you back on your feet. You couldn’t help but giggle as he moved to switch off the stove and grab plates out of the cabinet. The heavy footsteps of your husband were heard as he descended from upstairs. You didn’t bother to look up at him.

Izuku looked a bit less like the mess you left him in last night. You had told him that for the night he wasn’t allowed in your bedroom, and he would stay in the office he cared about more than you in the last six months. He wore sweatpants as he kept one hand in his pockets and came down.

Asahi looked up from where he was setting the table. “Morning dad!”

“Morning buddy.” Izuku forced a smile to his face as he walked over to the table. He pulled Asahi in for a hug making his eyes go wide in surprise. The other boys looked at their father confused but didn’t say anything. “How did you sleep?”

“…fine.” He answered, glancing at you. You shrugged, acting to be oblivious. He did the same thing with Hero as well, before coming over to do the same with Toshinori.

Toshinori looked up at his father in surprise. “Morning dad… is your shift later in the day?” He asked as he noticed his father’s rather casual attire. He normally would just sleep in or rest more and let the four of you have breakfast by yourselves.

Izuku hesitated but shook his head as he moved over to grab an extra plate, noticing that the number of plates Toshinori had gotten was just for the four of you excluding him. “No.” He answered rather blankly. Izuku took his plate as well as the other plates that Toshinori was holding and went to go put them on the table. Asahi noticed the extra plate and went to go and grab more cutlery.

Breakfast was finished and so you all moved to the table. You kept notice of the time, wondering if you should wake up Koda or not. You sat next to Izuku on his right side like before, as he sat at the head of the table. Toshinori sat beside you, not wanting to sit on the other side of his father today. Your three eldest boys sat quietly, not touching their plates either as they looked between you and their father. You looked to Izuku and for a moment your husband froze.

That was the look you always gave him whenever you all used to sit at the table together. You would sit together and you would let him lead. Izuku felt horrible knowing that you were perfect. You always used to make it so important that the boys learnt from him in being a good male figure, no matter what. And yet as you looked at him now, all he saw was emptiness in your eyes. Rightfully so.

He cleared his throat and smiled. He put his hands together. “Thank you for the food.” The boys quickly followed afterwards before you all started eating. You sat posed and composed as if last night wasn’t one of the worst nights of your life. Izuku looked up at the three boys. “Actually boys…” He started.

The three of them looked up, heads of green hair perking up as they looked to their large Prohero father who sat at the head of the table. You were quiet as you let him say whatever piece he wanted to say. Whether he wanted to tell the boys or not, you wouldn’t intervene.

“I owe an apology to all of you.” He started. Toshinori’s eyebrows raised in surprise. He glanced at you with an emotionless expression but then looked back at his father. “To you and…” He motioned to the three of them before moving to look at you. You put your hand down silently allowing whatever he was doing. He put his hand over yours, squeezing it and yet you didn’t squeeze back. “And to your mother. The last six months have been…” He paused. A heavy pause that everyone felt. “Difficult for all of us and I haven’t been around as much as I should have. I’m sorry about that. And so… I’ve decided that I am taking some time off.”

All the boys whipped their heads to look at you as if asking you if it was true. You shrugged. You didn’t know either where this decision had come from, but you were glad that it seemed like he was making true to whatever dribble he had tried to sprout out last night to you.

Toshinori hesitated but looked back at his father with an optimistic look on his face. “That’s… That’s great dad.” He smiled. He looked to his brothers.

Hero and Asahi seemed more excited than you had seen them in a while. Hero nodded his head. “Yah! And just in time for break too! Maybe we can go on a road trip!” He spoke out an idea.

Izuku laughed but nodded. “I was thinking more of a vacation but whatever you boys want.”

“Oh!” Asahi perked up. “What about Australia?”

Toshinori shook his head. “Nah.” He took a bite of his toast. “Mom hates the giant spiders.”

“How about Greece?!” Hero suggested. “Mom was watching Mamma Mia two weeks ago! That place looked so cool and blue!”

You watched the boys bicker about a family vacation which brought a smile to your face. You were glad to see they were some semblances of happy for the first time in a long time.

Your eyes flicked down to where Izuku had his hand over yours still. You gripped his hand immediately taking his attention. You smiled at him as you leaned forward closer to his ear. “Good job, honey.” You said, enough that if the boys looked it would have been innocent, but Izuku knew what that was. He didn’t need it spelt out to him.

You placed a kiss to his lips, brief and to the point, making the boys gag. “Ew!”

“Mom! Please not at the table!” Asahi let out in deep exasperation.

Izuku was still for a moment, tears burning at his eyes. Your kiss was fake. Your praise was fake. Everything was a show, a play for the boys to be happy. You were still disappointed in him. You would always be disappointed in him.

He let out a shaky breath and smiled. “Hey! Leave my wife alone.” He said jokingly.

No matter what, he’d carry for the rest of his life, the fact that he had disappointed you.

-Glitch1d

[Izuku Midoriya Masterlist]

[Cheating Dilf Izuku Masterlist]

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