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russellsppttemplates · 3 days

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A red thread tying you to me (Charles Leclerc)

There was something pulling you to him and Charles was ready to act on it

Note: english is not my first language. I loved the blurb and now we have a big piece too!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions the death of reader's father's and Charles' father's deaths

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"The congress is just outside of Milan, the exact city and details are in there", your colleague Lucia offered as she flickered though the pages, "I've been a couple of times before and it's really enriching, I just know you'll love the students and the department head - she was my supervisor for a couple of years".

"It sounds great", you looked at the panel information and then the travel details, "it's such a shame you can't come with me though, but I also wouldn't want to risk your little dude showing up and have me as your midwife", you chuckled as Lucia rubbed her baby bump.

"You're capable of many things, Y/N, but I would prefer if the fate of my baby and my underparts was in the hands of a professional!", she bumped your shoulder, "and the area is really nice too, I'm sure you'll find something to keep you busy during the weekend".

"I have plans, actually, I'll be fine I think", you smiled.

Like Lucia predicted, you had a great time in the conference and the guest lecture you gave was applauded and discussed for nearly an hour after you showed the last slide of the presentation, topics going back and forth until everyone had to absolutely leave the room before the next lecture began. For now, you'd get to enjoy the region, drinking some wine and taking in the views you recognised.

The park where your father used to take you didn't look too different. The slides didn't look rusty anymore, and the swing was a bright red colour as you sat on it once you didn't see any other kid around who might want to use them and let yourself feel the breeze on your face and hair as you kicked your legs in and out. Your father used to make you feel like you could touch the sky with how high he helped you go, "you're going to touch the clouds, mia piccola stella", he would say and you would laugh loudly.

You missed him every single day, but over the years, your grief allowed you remember all of the happy moments you lived with him, cherishing them close to your heart. Spending the whole weekend in Monza and attending the race was something you hadn't done without him since he passed away. The circuit was your father's favourite - "it's the fans, Y/N, there's a thrill in the air that no other circuit has - Tifosi cover the streets, they're all you can see around town and it's magical almost" he would say to you, so when you noticed the conference was in the area and coincided with the Grand Prix weekend, both you and your mother agreed you should take the opportunity.

On your way back to the hotel, you stopped by the track, wondering what the preparations for a race weekend looked like after so many years. You still followed the sport, but you never got the chance to catch this on television.

"Oh my, oh my", you heard someone say beside where you were standing, "I can't believe my eyes, it's Y/N Y/L/N".

Turning around you spotted Salvatore, one of the mechanics your father worked with. He also had kids around your age and you would often play together whenever you were both in the garage for the weekend.

"Salvatore!", you cheered, giving him a big smile after kissing each of his cheeks, "you better believe your eyes then".

"It's been so long since I've seen you last", he recalled, rubbing your back softly. You and your mother had gone to Maranello for a tribute ceremony the team had for your father - that had been the last time he saw you.

"It has been, yes - I'm sorry", you apoligised. You told the team you'd be around and so much had happened since and you only watched it through a screen instead of living it in the flesh.

"It's okay, it was the time you needed - What brought you to Monza this weekend?", he wondered as he walked inside the paddock with you, scanning his card and getting you both in.

"A work trip actually - I finished a conference yesterday and I also gave a lecture at the university", you nodded, "and my father always loved Monza", you smiled at the memory, "he knew how cliché that sounded, but he always said there wasn't a better weekend on the calendar. And I've missed the rush, too", you offered, letting the tears flow freely and accepting them even though you were in the middle of the paddock, loud noises coming from every angle as the teams prepared the finishing touches for the upcoming race.

"He's very proud of you, I'm sure", Salvatore comforted, "and everyone will be happy to see you here - the little girl with the high pigtails is a grown woman now who attends conferences and gives lectures, who would've known?", he joked as you stepped inside the garage.

"Is this little troublemaker Y/N Y/L/N?", one of the oldest mechanics said after he applied a sticker to the halo.

When your father took you to the races, everyone knew they had fun guaranteed with you, always pulling pranks and laughing loudly, "my troublemaker days are over, I'm a responsible woman now", you chuckled, giving a quick wave to everyone before greeting everyone individually.

"Do you have tickets for this weekend?", Fred asked. Even though he had just met you, it was clear to him how much you mattered to everyone who worked with your father, "we can get you a pass, I'm sure".

"I have grandstand tickets", you stated.

"Silvia!", the team principal called the woman, making her approach him and rub your arm kindly, "do we have any guest passes left?".

"Let me check", Silvia mumbled, "we have one left, actually! Charles didn't even notice he asked us to save a ticket for his mother twice - I'll get it for you, it's in the meeting room upstairs", she smiled.

"Charles will also be very happy to see you around, did you tell him you were coming?", Salvatore mentioned.

"I haven't actually - I've been really busy", you mumbled.

You met the monégasque driver when he was Scuderia Ferrari's development driver and Prema Racing driver in Formula Two, accidentally running into him in the dining area of the hospitality and ending up spending most of his free time there throughout the whole weekend.

Quickly, it became a tradition to do so whenever he was over and whenever he was done with his Formula Two duties and you happened to be at the same track.

When you stopped attending races because the memories were too painful, you lost contact, opting to react to eachother's Instagram stories every now and again and sending quick messages through the social media app.

"The boys arrive today, but they're only coming to the track tomorrow", Fred added, "you'll have plenty of time to catch up".

Charles had finally arrived to the hotel after all the flights and drives, thankful that there weren't many fans around already and he could get inside without a hitch, checking in and getting his room keys.

"Hold it, per favore!", he said to the person on the lift, dreaming of the changing from his travel outfit and the bed waiting for him. When his hand helped him inside the metal door, he couldn't believe his eyes, "Y/N?".

He could remember the last time he saw you. He had just started his first season as a Formula One driver for Alfa Romeo and you had come back to the paddock for the first race of the season like you promised you would. He sat with you whenever he had a little break, you caught up with him and his early days as a driver with a seat rather than just watching from the sidelines.

"Charles, hi!", you gasped, hugging him and feeling him squeeze your body against his.

"I- what are you doing here? Are you here for the race?", he wondered. This couldn't be a mere coincidence. He hoped it wasn't.

"I had a work trip here that coincided with this weekend, and I thought of it as a sign", you explained, "you're staying in this hotel too?".

"Yes, the team are at the one where we usually stay for the weekend, but until Thursday, I'm staying here, yes", he smiled, "Goodness, I feel like it's both been forever and like it was yesterday", he chuckled, "do you want to get a drink? I have a nice selection in my room whenever I stay", he offered.

"I'd love to, Charles", you said, hoping that the tingly feeling on your tummy mirrored Charles' own excitement at this unexpected but valued encounter, "are you sure though? You just arrived".

"No, don't worry about that! My room is... 705", he checked on the card he was handed, "so you can join me now or maybe you want to set those things down first and meet me there?", he pointed to the bag you were carrying.

"Yes, this is quite heavy actually", you blushed, "my room is on this floor, so I'll meet in your room in fifteen? I need to freshen up because I've been walking around town all day".

Leaving the elevator on your floor, Charles waved at your before the doors closed andyou headed to your door. Stepping inside, you left the totebag with the books you bought in the chair before heading to the bathroom, brushing out any tangles in your hair and splashing your face with water to freshen up.

After getting yourself ready to go, you went up to Charles' floor, knocking on the door and waiting for him.

"Come in, come in!", Charles offered after he opened the door, "I've unpacked but kept it very organised still", he chuckled as you walked inside the room. It looked the same as yours did, only a different colour pallette for the decoration.

"How have you been?", you wondered once you sat down and shared some sparkling water, neither of you really feeling like drinking anything alcoholic.

"You surely know more about me than I know about you", Charles smiled, "but it's been good, this season has been great so far, I feel like we're in a really good path and things are working well", he took a sip from his cup, "the team have done such an incredible job".

"And the driver on the car doesn't have anything to do with that?", you squinted at his ever so modest take on things.

"I suppose I do", he blushed.

"I may have not been here, but I've watched every race - minus some of the ones at daft o'clock, I only watched those when my sleep was all messed up", you joked, "you're an essential part of this team, Charles, everyone can see that so you should give yourself more credit", you touched his arm.

Even though it had been years since you last saw eachother, you hit it off immediately and it seemed like no time had passed.

"And you? What is this work trip that brought you here?", Charles nodded.

"You're not the only one who gets to travel for work, alright?", you tsked, "I had to do a presentation on a conference and then the department invited me for a lecture, nothing big".

"Who's being ever so modest now, hm? That is fantastic, mon ange!", he congratulated before he noticed the words coming out of his mouth.

"When I noticed it fell around this weekend, I told my mum and she said that I should try and dip my foot here - I've been wanting to come to race sooner but...", you trailed off.

"I get it - it's hard going to the places that remind you of them", Charles took his hand in yours and squeezed it, "he was so cherished by the team, I'm sure everyone will be very happy to see you".

"Actually, I walked to the track today so I could see it up close before the race - I hoped it wouldn't be such a big shock once I got there on Friday -, and I bumped into Salvatore", you smiled, "he let me go into the garage and I saw everyone, it was really nice", you looked up so the tears on your eyes wouldn't fall.

"I can get you a pass, let me just text Silvia!", Charles said as he got his phone from his pocket with his free hand.

"She already did", you chirped, "apparently you booked two for your mother, so they had a spare one".

"You see, a couple of years ago, my mum was too late to tell me she was coming to the race and I was out of the guest passes, so I always have one on hold for her and I sent the list with her name on it as well", he admitted, "but it seems to have turned out just fine - meant to be even".

You ended up requesting room service for the two of you for dinner, neither feeling like going out of the room after feeling so comfortable there. Conversation was steady, vulnerability was easy to show and the butterflies were happily dancing on your tummy.

"I better get to my room, then", you stated once Charles told you about what he needed to do tomorrow once he was at the track.

"I didn't mean it that way - I'm fine!", he said after doing his best attempt at containing a big yawn, "I'm fine!".

"You're tired, and frankly so am I", you admitted as you got up from the bed.

"Would you like to come with me to the track tomorrow? If you don't have other plans that is", he mumbled the last part.

"I don't - I was just going to work a little bit, but if you find me a spot in the hospitality, I'll happily take my stuff there", you smiled reassuringly as you put on your shoes and headed to the door.

"I can take you to your room", Charles got up from the bed and followed you.

"No need, my room is just downstairs", you reasoned, kissing his cheek in a silent thank you still.

"That's right - so we'll go tomorrow after breakfast?", he rested his body on the door once you opened it.

"Yes, that works for me! Good night, Charles", you smiled before walking up to the elevator.

Walking inside the hospitalitynwith Salvatore and the rest of the team, he was quick to show you where you could set up.

"Charles likes to spend as much time as possible with the fans and it's right about now that they start becoming more and more and they're everywhere, too", he explained as he helped you in the table on the lounge area, "there's food and coffee in there if you need anything", Salvatore smiled, "if you need anything, just ask someone".

"Thank you - this is perfect", you assured, sitting down and working on your laptop and reading some of the books you had bought.

Charles and Carlos finally arrived at the hospitality, greeting the team and talking to them for a while before they headed upstairs for a meeting.

"You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend and you were bringing her here", Carlos told Charles as he poured some coffee on a mug after the meeting.

"I don't - I haven't brought a girlfriend here", Charles quirked an eyebrow at his team-mate.

"So who is that young woman you just smiled at and are pouring coffee for after giving her the heart eyes?", it was the spanish driver's turn to raise his eyebrows.

"Oh, Y/N!", Charles smiled as he mentioned your name, "she's an old friend! Her father was a mechanic before he passed away a few years ago - the older team members have known her since she was little, everyone loves her", he mused.

"Everyone loves her - I can see that", Carlos chuckled as he followed Charles to the table.

"We don't want to interrupt or disturb you too much", Charles announced as he set the mug next to your laptop.

"It's fine, sit sit!", you encouraged as you closed the books you no longer needed to make room for them, "I'm Y/N", you told Carlos.

"I'm Carlos", he smiled back, "nice to meet you", he said before you dove into conversation, discussing anything that popped into your minds and getting to know eachother.

"Don't let her fool you into believing she has always been a responsible, put together girl because she used to steal and hide all of our tools!", Antonio, one of the engineers pointed at you after he got himself a bottle of water, "Charles knows her tricks already but you, Carlos, don't fall for that!".

"You loved it every time I was on the computers and drew on Paint! You even had one of my drawings as the background for almost an entire season!", you threw at him as he approached you, patting the top of your head protectively.

"I'd like to see that! I've only known her since she was way older", Charles pouted.

"Jealous much?", Carlos teased, his voice above a whisper as Charles seemed to get flustered.

"Is it really that obvious?", the monégasque driver mumbled once you got up to get something to eat, "I've had a crush on her since I was a development driver".

"Why have you never said anything? She seems like she really cares about you too", Carlos mused as he thought to a few moments before where you too gqve him heart eyes. He would have to be blind to not notice it, and even then the energy between you too would still be felt.

"The timing wasn't right, I guess - her father passed away almost right after as I became a driver for Alfa Romeo, and she hasn't been in the paddock since. We have texted every now and again over the years and now she happened to be here for the race too", Charles offered.

"I'd say you should take a shot - trust me, she likes you back", Carlos patted Charles' shoulder after getting up, watching you go back to the table with a big smile on your face.

After Charles took pole position in qualifying, the team stayed a bit longer for the debrief, going over a few points of the discussion and the changes they still needed to make before the race.

"Y/N! We're having dinner at one of our favourite restaurants in town and I'm counting you in, okay?", Charles said as he spotted you in the garage, followed by Andrea, who had been keeping you company along with his brothers, Charlotte and Pascale.

"Your family is here for you, Charles, I don't want to intrude", you said as you got up, unaware of the Leclerc matriarch behind you.

"Chérie, of course you won't be intruding - we'd love to have you there!", Pascale chirped in.

"Well, in that case...!", you smiled, "just tell me where I should go and at what time, or are we going straight there?", you wondered.

"I was thinking we could go straight there if that's okay with you - you can can come with me and Andrea can ride with my brothers", Charles suggested, "unless you need to go back to the hotel", he quickly scrambled.

"No, I'm fine! Unless this outfit is not restaurant appropriate", you muttered as you looked down. Against all odds, you managed to not get any food stains on your dress. It was a midi skirt cut, flowy to allow your body to feel cool considering the warm Italian day.

"It's fine - you're fine, you look beautiful!", Charles was quick to assure you.

"Good, that's good then", you smiled before excusing yourself to go and get your things.

"You have to tell her, Charles - your affection is no use to either of you if you keept it in here", Pascale tapped her son's chest.

"Y/N", Charles called you before he had to go and get ready for the race, "I have something for you - we do", he said as some of the mechanics, including Salvatore, followed him.

"Oh, what is it?", you smiled.

"We commented with some guys back at the factory that you were here with is this weekend and they found something we thought you'd like to have", Salvatore said as he handed you a bag.

Looking inside, you noticed an old Ferrari cap and some embroidered lettering on the side, recognising it immediately. When you were a teenager, you decided to try different hobbies and hand embroidery was the one that stuck the most, so much so that on one of the race weekends, you embroidered caps for everyone on the team that asked you.

"My wife remembered the one I have at home and then the guys at Maranello found your father's and apparently one you did for Charles' as well", Salvatore offered as you took them both out.

"Dad always said he had plenty of embroidered things at home and this one was the one he had to travel with him", you chuckled as tears welled up in your eyes, feeling Charles soothingly rub your back.

"I remember getting this and loving it - I thought I had lost it!", Charles said, unaware if how close he was pulling you together so he could get a peek at the old caps.

"There's some loose string here", you chuckled, wiping the tears and fiddling with the red thread, "I didn't know how to properly tie it at the start, I kept losing it - I think I even glued it down at some point. Thank you for bringing this out", you smiled.

"Would you mind if I wore this for the driver's parade?", Charles asked you.

"I was planning on wearing my dad's while I watched the race", you offered, testing the fabric and placing it on your head before doing the same with Charles, fixing it on his head and looking up at him.

You never got over how handsome he was. The little scar on his cheek, his mole, the smile that never failed to make you smile, his beautiful green eyes. His kindness, his gentleness, his talent - there wasn't a way to deny how much you liked it. How much you liked him.

"We will be matching then!", Charles squeezed you against him before going to his driver's room.

Only when Charles was headed to take P1 on the grid did he hand the cap back to Salvatore and put on his helmet, giving you a wink before he left.

"How are you feeling?", Pascale asked as she sat next to you to watch the race. Over the last couple of days, she had grown close to you, not only because you had captured her son's heart and she wanted to get to know you, but also because Charles had told her how emotionally charged it was for you to be at the track, in Monza nonetheless.

"It's a lot", you admitted, "everyone has been so kind and warm, so all of the heavy feelings have been slowly infiltrating the good ones and it's been easier to deal with them like that", you blinked away a few tears.

"I get it", Pascale nodded, "losing someone is not easy, and I can't imagine what it feels like for you - the boys and I talk about my late husband every now and again and it gets easier to talk about it, I think that's what it is anyway".

"Yes, definitely like that. My mum and I have reached the point where we don't cry at every mention - despite what you might have noticed this weekend", you chuckled.

"It's emotional, chérie - I, for one, always cry whenever the boys achieve their goals. Hervé isn't here to see them, but I know he knows, and the boys know how proud he is of them", Pascale smiled, keeping some tears at bay too.

"You raised amazing young men, don't doubt that", you let out. At this point, you were sure she had noticed or had at least an inkling. As any mechanic for the red team who knew you since you were a kid would say, you were never a good liar - anytime you said you didn't touch something, they knew to look in your backpack first.

"Thank you, dear", she added, "you know, Charles is quite careful in who he lets in, but he's never been good at hiding how much he cares about someone and I can tell he cares a great deal about you".

"I care a lot about him too", you smiled before you were handed a pair of headphones each with the race about to start.

When Charles successfully kept the cars behind him away with a good gap, you clapped and watched the remaining laps number get smaller and smaller until there was only the current lap left.

Charlotte held your hand together with hers as you watched Charles be the first driver to see the checkered flag and when Xavi yelled "And P1!" into the radio, you did your happy dance, not having a care in the world about what others thought as you watched the Tifosi erupt in cheer.

"He did it! He did it!", Pascale clapped for her son, Arthur hugging her while Lorenzo did the same with his girlfriend while you softly touched your father's embroidered name on your cap with your fingers.

Running up to Parc Fermé, you stood in the sea of red, waiting for him to come back and hug them.

"You did so well, congratulations!", you said as you pulled Charles for a hug.

"Had my good luck charm with me!", he smiled back, kissing your cheek as he took advantage of you being shielded by the mechanics and engineers.

The team celebratory dinner was going really well, everyone happy with how the weekend panned out with both drivers on the podium and enjoying the meal on the restaurant's outside patio.

"If you guys want dessert, they're going to set them out on that table and you can grab as much as you like", Fred spread the message as you could see all kinds of sweet foods being brought out, a pudding catching your eye along with some raspberries.

You and Charles got the dessert plates and served yourselves, noticing the staff was already clearing up the tables, meaning you'd have to move to the bar area, many people opting to skip dessert and get some drinks instead.

"You can see the stars so clearly tonight", you mused as you looked up at the sky, setting your plate on the high table.

"My father always said that the stars did shine brighter here, and tonight the sky is very clear", Charles hummed in agreement, looking at your face. The moonlight and the dim lighting for the lamps and fairy lights illuminated all your features perfectly - your smile as you looked up formed the dimples on your cheeks, your eyes that were a tiny bit squinty and the way your whole body seemed relaxed.

The goosebumps on your arms caught his eye though, "here, have this", Charles said as he offered you the cardigan he had carried around all night since according to him his mother made him do it because it would be cold.

"Thanks", you smiled as you pulled the sleeves and folded them around your wrist so they would fit better, "this is really comfy, I might steal this if you don't ask for it back", you joked.

"I don't mind if you keep it, you have had my heart all these years", Charles stated. There it was.

"What?", you faced him, heart beating fast inside your chest.

"It's true, I've had a crush on you since I first met you, and these past couple of days have been amazing, and I can't believe it took me all these years to realize how I truly feel about you Y/N", he told you, no stutter or sign of regret on his face.

"I haven't been around, really, it's my fault", you fiddled with your thumbs before looking at him again, "but I can't lose you again".

"You never lost me, amour", he smiled as his eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips, his hand cupping your cheek your mouth pressed on his, ignoring everything and everyone around you.

Interrupting the kiss for air, Charles giggled as you hid your face in his neck once you heard the cheers and whistles, your lashes tickling him as his arms circled your waist and pulled you closer to him.

"He wins inside the track and outside of it, Charles Leclerc, P1 to Y/N's heart!", Carlos shouted before whistling again.

"Just so you know, I want an invite to your wedding!", Salvatore pointed his finger at you, "I still remember when you invited me for your wedding with Vettel!".

"You and Seb?", Charles chuckled once you pulled away from his neck.

"Sebastian was my favourite when I was little", you giggled, hiding your face on Charles' chest this time, "when he was back in RedBull still, I asked my father to ask him if he could take a photo with me and I cherished that for so many years - it was my most prized possession!".

"I can't promise you Seb, but I can promise you the very best of me", Charles said as he kissed the top of your head.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fluff #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

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chrissv4mp · 23 hours

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say you were tryna' make me laugh .❤️‍🩹

summary: matt lets it slip that he loves you and you try to tell him that he can't, that he needs to take it back.

pairing: fem!reader × bsf!matt sturniolo

warnings: angst, maybe some vulgar language, high-school au, etc.

a/n: PLEASEE i need billies new album now💔🙏 also this might be a potential series....👀👀

matt was your best friend, followed you every where you went and did everything you asked of him. you guys may have gotten into fights sometimes, but only small arguments.

he was perfect, and your other friends had always encouraged you to ask him out. but you never did, because you knew that he never really talked about that sort of stuff because of his social media presence.

and maybe it was also because you were a little scared to, because you saw yourself as unlovable and you couldn't bear to see the look of disgust on your bestfriends face if he rejected you.

you wouldn't be able to be around him anymore if he rejected you, it would be so awkward and wouldn't be at all how it used to be. your connection just wouldn't have that same spark.

"hey, dummy," matts voice erupted from behind you, and you turned to look over at him.

he took a seat next to yours at the small table in the corner of the cafeteria, smiling over at you as he set his tray down.

"hi, idiot," you laughed, cringing as you took a look at the cafeteria food, "seriously, you're gonna get food poisoning from that one day."

matt just shrugged, "well, i got to have a full stomach throughout the day or else i'll be tired during practice. and frankly, i do not want to get yelled at by coach williams."

he continued to grab the apple off his tray, biting into it.

"he's so scary, i don't know how you can even look him in the eyes." you said, and mayt chuckled.

"yeah, well, i've dealt with some scary people in the past."

you knew that was true, and you knew for a fact that he was talking about his ex-girlfriend, summer. she was such a bitch, always controlling matt and the things he did.

nodding, you went back to simple chatter like complaining about how your classes are way too long, and how the teachers don't care about their students.

both of you still remember when matt laughed at those jokes you made about the teachers back when he was dating summer. he still laughed even at his lowest times, even when he felt like dying.

his smile looked so sincere to others, yet only you could tell what was going on in his head, those bad thoughts. his anxiety had only gotten worse when him and summer became a thing.

whereas matt could never tell what was going on behind those eyes. you always kept your composure, making sure nobody got to you.

"catch!" that was the thing you had heard just before a football went flying in your direction.

it hit you straight in the face, and you stumbled to the ground, groaning as you held your cheek.

matt had watched as the boy who threw the ball begin to laugh, and his hands clenched into fists before rushing to your aid.

"y/n, are you okay?" he muttered, grabbing your hand and helping you back on your feet.

smiling at the boy, you nodded, "mhm, just my cheek hurts a little."

matt couldn't contain himself anymore, it was always that same dipshit who picked on you. this was his final straw.

leaving your side, matt went to grab the football before rushing over to the guy. before he could even comprehend what was happening, matt threw the ball at his face.

the tip of the football hit his nose, hard. with how close matt was and how much force he had put into the throw, it definitely broke the guy's nose.

"what the fuck?!" he whined, holding his bloodied nose as he shut his eyes tight.

you could only stand there, hands clasped over your mouth in shock at what matt had just done. he was never the type to have sudden outbursts like this, and he surely wasn't the type to confront someone.

"maybe fight someone of your gender next time, bud." matt smiled fakely, shoving the boys shoulder before returning to your side.

he hadn't said a word to you, he just interlaced your arms and began walking somewhere else in the courtyard.

when the two of you had settled in a more quiet area under a tree, matt finally spoke, "i'm sorry,"

"i guess i was just fed up with him always picking on you. and i mean, seriously, what fucking guy messes with a girl?" he scoffed, rubbing his knee as he looked down.

your lips curved into a small smile as you reached over to grab his hand. you slid your fingers between his, and they fit almost perfectly.

matt's face went pink, and he looked away with a smile.

"i know you just want to keep me safe matt, it's okay. don't be sorry." you said quietly, running your thumb over the top of his hand.

the sky was a soft orange, some pink blending in as the mountains covered the rest of it.

matt and yourself were sitting on a blanket at the park, waiting until it was dark to see the stars.

it was something the two of you did occasionally, and yet you never got bored of it. your conversations were always new and the stars had always seemed to be arranged differently.

matt couldn't help but get lost in the sight of the sun setting, his mind going completely blank.

"you never see a sunset in your life?" you joked quietly, and matt laughed as he looked over at you.

"be quiet," his hand ran over the soft fabric of the blanket, and suddenly all he could think about was you.

the sun set faster than you thought, and soon enough the stars were out. you and matt lay side by side as you stare up at the night sky, fixated on each and every little detail.

the silence was comforting and sweet, the feeling of matt being present beside you made you feel like there was some sense of security surrounding the two of you.

matt's lips parted, and he turned his head to state at you for a little. you seemed so lost in thought, so peaceful like this.

"what ya thinkin' about?" matt whispered, a smile creeping onto his face.

you shrugged before turning to look him in the eyes, "if i said it, it'd weird you out."

his smile became wider, and he turned his head to look back at the stars, "eh, i think if i told you what i was thinking about right now, you'd quite literally slap me."

chuckling, you continued to stare at matt, eyes flickering over all his features.

"really?" matt nodded in response, laughing.

"yep, now c'mon, your thought can't seriously be that bad. tell me, please?" he sounded like a little kid when he begged like this, and that was one of the reasons you loved being his friend.

you dragged your hands down your face, sighing exaggeratedly loud, "fine,"

"i was thinking about how different things would be if we hadn't met." you said, voice soft.

matt nodded, letting a few moments of silence pass by before speaking, "yeah? well, you'd probably be alone woth no joy in your life."

"shut up!" you laughed, punching his shoulder gently.

matt laughed, rolling onto his side to look at you closer.

"now it's your turn, kid." you muttered, smiling at him.

silence enveloped you two again, and this time you could feel a twinge of tension in the air between your two bodies.

he twiddled with his thumbs as his smile faded. he had been full of courage all day and now he couldn't even look at you.

was it really worth risking the friendship?

what if you hadn't felt the same way, what if you didn't love him.

he couldn't even believe the words that came out of his mouth next. they always say sooner is better than later, i guess.

"i love you, y/n." he said quickly, and you almost figured he was joking.

well, until you saw that look in his eyes. the look that he gave summer at the beginning of their relationship.

fuck.

your smile faded, and you just stared at the boy beside you.

matt tensed, his eyes going anywhere but to your own as he let you process what he said.

"you're lying," was all you could say at the moment.

matt's eyes snapped up to yours at the... accusation? he couldn't tell if it was a question or if you were accusing him.

he shook his head anyway, muttering a quiet disagreement, "i'm not."

"yes, you are, matthew. you can't actually love me," you raised your voice, sitting up as you stared down at him with wide eyes.

the brunette boy sat up next, tears welling in his eyes.

crying wasn't like him, he never cried.

you looked away before speaking up more, "take it back, please,"

he was just joking, he was surely gonna say he was trying to make you laugh. right?

no, he was never the type of guy to joke about stuff like this. he was in love with you, really.

matt shook his head again, sniffling as he wiped his eyes, "no, y/n. it's true."

"no, no. you didn't mean to say 'i love you'," your mind was racing with all kinds of thoughts.

why were you even making this such a big deal, it wasn't like you didn't love him as well. it's just that... you didn't want to.

you didn't want to love him because you knew how things like this went. the breakup would be 10x as hard as a normal one.

now you were both crying, and you hadn't even realized until a tear drop hit your bare knee.

"i'm sorry, fuck, i didn't mean to make you cry." matt apologized, his hands shaky as he reached out for you.

you couldn't help but fall into his arms, sobbing on his shoulder as you tightly wrapped your arms around his waist.

he muttered reassuring things as he rubbed your back, his voice sometimes cracking as he also cried.

this wasn't how the night was supposed to go, you weren't supposed to end up red-eyed in matt's arms.

you were supposed to be staring at the stars and talking nonsense.

now nothing was normal, you could never escape the fact that you loved him now.

"i have to go," you said, pulling away from his embrace to pack up your things.

matt stayed silent, deciding that was the best thing to do right now.

you left without another word, and it wasn't until you were halfway across the park that matt noticed you left your blanket.

his lips parted as he let out a quiet sob. lying back down on the blanket, he cried into it.

it was like you were hugging him, and just for a second he believed that you might be able to forgive him.

but then it faded as doubts came crashing into his mind again.

"i hate you," he muttered to himself, punching the grass once before wrapping himself back up in your blanket.

"i hate you, i hate you, i fucking hate you!" he yelled, sobbing.

. . .

tags: @cindylcuwho @55sturn @ryli3sworld @mattsneezing @voidghsts @films4sturni @h3arts4harry @freshloveee @raysmayhem-72 @imtalkinnonsense @chrissturnswife @cheriematt @mattyb4dominicans @freshloveforthefit

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ladykailitha · 3 days

Text

Paper Hearts Part 1

Remember how my posting schedule was going to be based on strictly vibes from now on? Yeah this is why. I have three chapters of this completed and only two of most everything else because I hurt my right wrist on Wednesday evening (I think I overextended my elbow and it fucked up the tendons in my wrist, because I've done that before on my arm and it feels like that).

So instead of getting more work done on stuff that is literally paragraphs away from the end of the chapter I'm having to tap into my backlog. Which is what it's for. But it is annoying.

I am also aware it's nearly May, but my muse was never one for sense.

Summary: Hawkins High is selling paper hearts to help raise for senior prom. $3 for red romantic hearts and $1 for pink friendship hearts. Steve hasn't dated anyone since the horrific breakup with Nancy on Halloween and so he decides that he's going to send pink hearts to senior girls who wouldn't normally get any hearts at all. When Eddie hears about this he can't help be intrigued. It goes against his very well curated Munson Doctrine. But as events keep throwing them together, Eddie learns there is more to King Steve then meets the eye.

Also a note: the use of the other's last name when it's their point of view is deliberate. As they get to know each other more, the more first names get used.

****

Steve was staring at the huge sign with a sense of dread. In big pink and white letters on a red background screamed the words:

PAPER HEARTS FOR YOUR VALENTINE $1 FOR PINK FRIENDSHIP HEARTS $3 FOR RED ROMANTIC HEARTS ALL PROCEEDS GO TO CLASS OF 1985 SENIOR BALL

Valentine’s Day. That time of year for lovers and romantics. That used to be him. But not since Nancy broke his heart by breaking up with him for Jonathan Byers.

There would be no paper hearts in locker this year. Not even pink ones. Nancy had well and truly blown up his life and she got to walk away scott free.

He didn’t know what to do anymore. He pinched his nosed and rubbed the end. He wasn’t going to cry in the middle of the fucking main hall of Hawkins High.

Just before he was about to start moving again someone shoulder checked him, sending back to the floor and all his stuff sprawling around it like some fucked flower.

“Watch it, Harrington!” the voice growled as whoever it was sped off down the hall.

Steve didn’t even bother looking to see who it was. It could have been anyone these days. His former friends. Billy and his ilk. Hell, even the nerds and geeks got in on the action lately.

He knelt down to start cleaning it up when someone else kicked his books toward the lockers. He managed to get most of it picked up when he reached for the last notebook. Someone stepped on his hand and ground down, hurting Steve and ripping the cover off the notebook, crinkling the first couple of pages.

He shoved it into his bag and cradled his hand to his chest. He looked at his watch and sighed. Lunch was nearly over and he hadn’t even made it to the cafeteria yet.

There was nothing for it, he had to get to his next class. He walked into the class room just as the bell rang, but instead of heading for his usual spot near the front he made for the back of the class. There were always a few empty seats around Munson. The guy was terrifying on a good day.

And Steve hoped it was a good day.

****

Eddie made to class on time by the skin of his teeth. He slid through door just as the bell rang above his head. He was about to lope over to his usual spot in the back when he stopped dead in his tracks.

He looked up at the front at the deliberately left open seat and back at the seat next to his with a raised eyebrow. He wisely said nothing as he flopped into the torture device known as the chesk. Dair? Whatever the hell it was called where some unspeakable horror thought to combine a desk and a chair.

Eddie glanced sidelong at his new companion. The recently deposed king of Hawkins High sat slumped in his chesk, head down, just staring at its surface as if held the meaning to life the universe and everything.

Which if Harrington asked him, he would have been told forty-two.

He pulled out his notebook and noticed that Harrington did not do the same. Curiouser and curiouser. He pulled out a pencil and settled in to avoid falling to sleep today.

He was taking notes and doing the assignment like he was supposed to when about half way through class the teacher called out to him.

“Mr. Harrington!” she shrieked. “If you are going to be sitting in the back, please have the decency to pay attention in class!”

A couple of kids snickered.

“You were talking about how the Fool is used to lighten the absolutely horrific scene above him of Lady Macbeth as she tries to get blood out of her gown,” he muttered, scratching his cheek with his left hand.

That was when the teacher and Eddie noticed the same thing at the same time.

Harrington was cradling his right hand to his chest.

“Mr. Harrington is there something wrong with your right hand?”

“I accidentally hurt it during lunch,” he said with wince.

The teacher tapped her foot and crossed her arms. “And why didn’t you see the nurse?”

“It happened right before class,” Harrington muttered, “and I didn’t want to be late.”

The teacher huffed and shook her head. “I will give you note for your next teacher, but you will see the nurse after class, am I understood?”

He nodded.

“Mr. Munson,” she cried out, shrill. “If you’ll share your notes with Mr. Harrington after class so he does not fall behind.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He continued to keep an eye on Harrington throughout the whole class but whenever their English teacher tried to catch him out, she would fail every time.

When the bell rang Eddie started shoving his stuff into his backpack. “You sure you even need my notes, Harrington? That was pretty impressive shit you pulled out of your ass today.”

Harrington just shrugged. “Just because I was paying attention doesn’t mean it won’t bleed out of my ears with all the algebra and chemistry stuff I have later.”

Eddie winced in sympathy. “Yeah, I hear that. What’s your locker number and I’ll just slip a copy of my notes in the slots.”

“323B.”

“They got you on a lower locker?” he asked with a grimace. “That’s jacked up. Even Mr. Super Senior here got a top locker. Does the secretary hate you or some shit?”

Again Harrington shrugged. “I’ve got to go. I’ll catch you later.”

Eddie folded his arms at looked at him. “You’re not going to the nurse’s station, are you?”

This time it was Harrington who winced.

“That’s what I thought,” he huffed. “I’m walking you to said nurse’s station because it could be broken and if you don’t get that looked at, you’ll be in more than just a world of hurt, man. You could fuck up your hand for life and you wouldn’t be able to anything in that hand ever again.”

Steve’s eyes went wide as all color drained from his face.

“Shit.”

Eddie grabbed both of their backpacks and headed for the door. “Yeah, shit.”

Harrington hurried to catch up, hand still cradled to his chest.

“How did you know that could happen to my hand?” he asked softly.

Eddie eyed him sidelong, but the kid wasn’t being an ass. In fact he would say Harrington was being earnest.

“My uncle works at the machinist plant up the road,” Eddie explained. “One of his buddies broke his hand on the machine and refused to get it looked at. Guess how well that worked?”

“Was it the plant’s fault?” Harrington asked. Eddie cocked his head to the side. “That you uncle’s friend got hurt?”

Eddie reared his head back in shock that Harrington would even ask.

“No, man,” he said shaking his head. “He was goofing off, being a dick. Uncle Wayne always said that if you knock on every door asking for the devil, one day he’s gonna answer.”

“What happens when the devil comes looking for you?” Harrington muttered to himself and Eddie couldn’t help but wonder what this kid had seen.

Because he knows haunted. And Harrington looks like he has an attic full of ghosts.

Once they got to the nurse’s station Eddie waited for him. When the other boy came out he asked how it went.

“She says it doesn’t feel broken,” he huffed. “But that if it doesn’t improve over the weekend after icing at least three times a day, to come back on Monday and she’ll order an x-ray.”

Eddie nodded. “Right. See you around, Harrington.”

He had barely turned around when Harrington called out to him. “Wait!”

Eddie turned back around to have a piece of paper shoved into his hand. “I got the nurse to excuse us both.”

And before he could even reply the other boy was tearing off down the hall as if the devil himself was chasing him.

And after that comment he’d heard, Eddie couldn’t be sure he wasn’t.

****

Steve was curled up on his bed, icing his hand, staring up at the ceiling, and wondering where the fuck his life had gone so wrong.

Okay so he could answer that one, actually. Demogorgon ate his girlfriend’s best friend while in his backyard. While him and said girlfriend were having sex for the first time.

Yeah... that was all kinds of fucked up.

He still couldn’t believe that Nancy sided with Jonathan about him taking pictures of their first time.

So now Valentine’s Day was two week away and he was dateless, friendless, and unpopular. He wished he could just be called a loner. But a loner was cool and Steve wasn’t even that anymore.

He just had to make until the end of may and then he could graduate, leaving this town in his rearview mirror for good.

Steve knew that he would have to struggle through this fucking holiday and Senior prom then it would be smooth sailing from there.

He had all this money that he would normally spend on his girlfriends, but now he didn’t even have that. He supposed he could blow it all on beer and weed and then he could enjoy the weekend for a change.

Steve sat up suddenly, the ice pack falling from his hand to hit the floor with sploosh!

Now that was an idea.

He still had one thing in the school that was nonpareil and that was gossip. In fact, it was easier to hear all the dirty little secrets because no one cared if he was standing there.

A smile spread over his face.

That could actually work. It would be a great way to spend his allowance and it would be fun.

He got up and put the ice pack back in the freezer. He couldn’t do anything about it right then but once his hand was better he would formulate his little plan.

Steve was suddenly excited for the first time since he dropped Dustin off at the middle school’s Snow Ball.

He was going to make this holiday fun even if he had to manufacture the fun himself.

****

Eddie was pissed. A little at himself, but mostly at how Harrington was being treated.

He had to sit through lunch and listen a bunch of stupid jocks brag about stomping on Harrington’s hand when he was trying to pick up his stuff off the floor in the hallway yesterday.

They had been hoping for an actual break, but the asshole thought he’d only bruised it.

The reason Eddie was a little mad at himself for this was because he was the one that had shoulder checked Harrington. He had only been trying to get the guy out of his daze. Not send his shit flying.

And then to have someone deliberately stepping on his hand. Fuck. Not even Hagan ever went that far.

Stev–Harrington didn’t deserve that kind of bullying. No one did.

But he could see the twisted sort of appeal, though. And fuck if that didn’t make his stomach turn.

To see the deposed king and want to mock that? Want to dig the hurt in as deep as he could? To drive home the lesson that popularity was fleeting and that existence was a curse?

Yeah, Eddie could see the appeal.

But he wouldn’t. He might make fun of literally everyone and everything but his own interests, but to make turn that into actual cruelty? That was were he drew the line in the sand.

He went home feeling sick to his stomach. And of course Wayne picked up on it immediately.

He jutted his chin at the chicken and rice on Eddie plate that he had only merely pushed around with his fork.

“What’s got you so twisted around the bend?”

Eddie put his fork down and hid his mouth with his clasped hands, elbows on the table.

“I fucked up today,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean for it to go as it did.”

“What did you do?”

So Eddie told him. “I wasn’t trying to hurt him, but he got hurt anyway.”

“That does sound pretty bad,” Wayne agreed. “And as you say, you were trying to help only for it to go very awry. And since you didn’t about it until after the fact you couldn’t apologize and that’s what’s eating you up inside.”

Eddie nodded around his fists, his lower lip quivering.

“You’ll just have to find a way to apologize on Monday,” Wayne said wisely.

Eddie sighed. It was the best he could do. It wasn’t as though he could call the guy up or show up at his house. The first because he didn’t have the guy’s number and the second because he’d get the cops called on him so fast by the neighbors.

It would just have to wait until Monday.

****

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#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes

165 notes · View notes

grandlinedreams · 15 hours

Text

|| hey remember that thing I said abt boot riding and condescending, mean Coop :)

|| notes: unestablished timeline, could be seen as pre or post s1, reader can be whatever they want, waves hand something something idk man I've got it so bad for this guy also HEY. MDNI. BIG TIME. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.

|| warnings: pretty much pwp, oral (m receiving), cum eating/swallowing, cursing, boot riding, Cooper is mean, hair pulling, afab reader i guess

Cooper isn't sure if it's the oppressive heat, the lack of decent drinking water or food that isn't roasted radroach to blame for your attitude, or if it's something else entirely ㅡ but you've found his last nerve over the last couple hours and are determined to rip it to shreds.

Part of him says he could save himself some long term trouble and put a bullet in your head, but he won't for two reasons. One, that's a waste of ammo. And two, he likes having you around.

You're a good companion, when you aren't in such a piss-poor mood. But it's that mood that's the current issue ㅡ and so, Cooper comes up with his own solution when you get just a little too mouthy for his liking.

"Come on now sweetheart," he grunts, voice low as he watches you, "you can take it, can't you?"

Your answer is garbled for the length currently occupying your mouth, tip of him pushed far enough that it threatens to gag you. Cooper doesn't think he's seen anything prettier than the tears in your eyes over his cock in your mouth.

He groans when you swallow around him, fists a hand tight into your hair to guide you ㅡ and the way you squirm also catches his attention. But one thing at a time, and he isn't about to give you whatever it is you think you deserve until after he's done.

He tells you so, eyes glinting as you whine around him, sound silenced by the rough jerk of his hips. "Come on, sweet thing," he coos, mocking as he cups your chin, thumbs at the bead of drool that slides from the corner of your mouth, "not gettin' shit if you can't behave."

This isn't the first time he's been in your mouth, nor will it be the last ㅡ but the pitiful look on your face only furthers his pleasure as he bucks, listens as you choke and gag around him.

His head tips back as you suck, fist tightening in your hair as you slide your tongue over the underside of him, the steady pulse as his breath hitches a little. "Fuck," he huffs, "see? Told you I'd find somethin' for you to do with that mouth of yours other than bitch."

You squirm again, thighs rubbing together to try and give yourself a little friction as his already rough rhythm turns choppier ㅡ and then he's spilling down your throat with a low groan that only adds to your own arousal.

Cooper pulls free of your mouth and watches as you swallow before he tucks himself away and snorts when you give him an expectant look. "What's that for, sugar? Never promised I was gonna help you out."

Your lips part like you want to protest, but he's right ㅡ he'd never said he was going to do anything afterwards. He smirks, makes a show of debating before he crouches in front of you, tips your chin up so he can meet your eyes.

"Poor thing, did suckin' me off get you that hot and bothered?" Your cheeks flush, and his amusement grows. "I guess I can help you out. But we're doing this my way, hm?" You blink, watching as he moves to settle a little ways away, then gestures. "Well? C'mere, babydoll."

Cooper watches you, tracking you as you settle over him in his lap. He reaches for you, pulls you flush to him before he cups your face with gloved hands. "You wanna get off so bad, you'll take whatever I give you, hm?"

Your cheeks burn, betraying you as you nod and listen to him click his tongue, sizing you up before he leans to kiss you. It'd almost be sweet were it not for the way he anchors you to keep you from withdrawing, muffling your soft noises before pulling away.

"Alright, sweetheart," he breathes, "I'll give you somethin'."

ㅡ

"Come on sweetheart, I thought you wanted this."

Your cheeks blaze, a mix of embarrassment and arousal as your hips rock, bitten off whine that makes Cooper snicker as he watches you rut against his boot. The dusty leather is far from what you'd been expecting, but Cooper had been adamant ㅡ either you got off on his boot or you didn't get off at all.

He at least pushes it against you, offers that modicum of reciprocation beyond the dark, hungry way he watches you grind against the only thing he's willing to offer.

The edge of it digs against the ache of your core, makes you groan and grind down harder.

"Look at you, honeybunch," Cooper drawls, determined to keep up a steady stream of commentary and make this all the worse for you, "that needy for me you're willing to hump my boot like a bitch in heat. Pathetic."

It should annoy you, but all the insult does is send heat curling in your veins to join the needy, sticky slick between your legs as you whimper and continue moving. Your thighs ache, your head spins with the way you're panting ㅡ but you're so close.

Cooper knows it to, doesn't miss a beat as he listens to you whimper, noises arching to something more pitched before you're shuddering, rocking your hips in rough, tiny little movements before you're panting, body trembling with the force of your orgasm.

"See, sugar? Wasn't so hard, was it?" His tone and words are a playful taunt, one that has you glaring at him.

"Fuck you."

Cooper grins, eyes dark. "That's the plan, babydoll."

#ㅡmine.#fallout x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x reader

90 notes · View notes

myscenic · 19 hours

Text

Part I | Part II coming soon :>

Pairing: incubus!jung sungchan x prince!male!reader

Genre: royalty au, smut

Warnings: unprotected sex (don't irl!!), swearing, big dick sungchan (yes, again, handjob (r. receiving), blowjob (s. receiving), cum eating, slight gore, character deaths, (tough reader turns into a sub real quick ijbol), and more (i realized this was too long so I cut it into 2 parts), pls lmk if there's any mistakes :)

Word Count: 3.8k+

Synopsis:

𖤐 Note: this was inspired by smth, but i can't remember about what it was, so💀 still can't believe I got so many notes from my last fic, thank u guys sm!! im not really a good smut writer as im still learning, this rlly motivates me to write more but i think ima need to write more non smut fics to calm myself down-

y/n, the prince of the y/l/n's, stood before his father, the king, in the grand hall of the castle. the air was heavy with tension as the king addressed the group of knights assembled before him. y/n's heart pounded with a mix of apprehension and determination.

"my loyal knights," the king began, his voice commanding and authoritative. "i have called you here today to address a grave matter that has plagued our kingdom. people have been vanishing without a trace, and we cannot turn a blind eye any longer."

y/n's father's eyes bore into each knight's soul, his gaze unwavering. "i hereby command each and every one of you to investigate this matter. find out what is happening, and put an end to this menace that plagues our land."

the knights nodded in unison, their resolve firm. y/n stepped forward, his voice filled with determination. "i will lead the charge, father. i swear to you that i will uncover the truth and bring justice to those who have suffered."

the king's gaze softened, pride gleaming in his eyes. "i have faith in you, my son."

with their orders given, y/n and his fellow knights set off towards the town where the disappearances had been occurring. the moon hung high in the sky as y/n's heart raced with a mix of anticipation and unease. he knew that his duty as a prince went beyond protecting the kingdom; it was about safeguarding its people from the unknown horrors that lurked in the shadows.

as they ventured deeper into the small village, y/n's senses heightened. it was as if the very air crackled with an otherworldly energy. suddenly, a blood-curdling scream pierced the silence, sending shivers down y/n's spine. without hesitation, he motioned for his fellow knights to follow him, leading the charge towards the source of the disturbance.

the house loomed before them, its windows shrouded in darkness. y/n's grip tightened around his sword as he prepared for the worst. he exchanged glances with his comrades, their eyes reflecting a mix of determination and concern.

with a swift kick, y/n pushed open the creaking door, revealing a scene of eerie stillness. the room was dimly lit, casting long shadows across the worn-out furniture. but what caught y/n's attention were the lifeless bodies of his fellow knights, piled together in a haunting display.

a sense of dread washed over y/n as he scanned across the room. he knew that the incubus, sungchan, was responsible for this mess. the prince's eyes darted around the room, searching for any signs of the demon's presence.

but as y/n turned his gaze back to the lifeless bodies, a flicker of movement caught his eye. in the corner of the room, a figure emerged from the shadows, revealing the horns first, then the enigmatic and alluring form of sungchan himself.

"well, well, well, isn't this the prince of the y/l/n’s?" sungchan's voice dripped with a mix of amusement and malice as he sauntered towards y/n, his eyes filled with a predatory gleam. "ah~ your knights. don't worry about them, my dear prince. i've taken good care of them. i'm sure they're in a better place now~”

y/n's eyes narrowed, his grip on his sword tightening. "you monster! what have you done to them?"

sungchan chuckled, his voice a seductive melody. "oh, nothing too permanent, my prince~ just a little taste of pleasure and pain. they were quite...entertaining."

y/n's rage consumed him, fueling his every action as he swiftly gripped his sword and lunged towards sungchan, determined to exact his revenge. but to his astonishment, sungchan effortlessly flickered his hand, causing the sword to be flung away across the room. y/n's eyes widened in disbelief, his heart pounding in his chest.

a wicked grin spread across sungchan's lips as he taunted y/n. "is this all you've got, my dear prince? such a disappointment~" his voice dripped with amusement and superiority, relishing in the power dynamic that had shifted in his favor.

y/n then tried to punch sungchan in the face. but before y/n could touch him, sungchan swiftly moved, his movements fluid and graceful. he reached out and gripped y/n's wrist with an iron grip, overpowering him effortlessly. with a sudden, forceful motion, sungchan flung y/n onto the bed, causing the prince to crash onto the soft mattress.

y/n's body sprawled across the bed, his mind reeling from the unexpected turn of events. he struggled to regain his composure, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. anger still burned within him, but it was now mingled with a sense of vulnerability and helplessness.

sungchan loomed over y/n, his presence dominating the space. his dark, seductive eyes bore into y/n's, relishing in the control he held. "oh, my prince, you truly are a sight to behold when you're filled with rage. but sadly, you can't do anything now."

y/n's muscles tensed as he attempted to free himself from sungchan's grip, but it was useless. he could feel the power emanating from sungchan, an otherworldly force that left him powerless to resist. the realization of his own vulnerability sent a shiver down his spine.

sungchan's voice was a low, sultry whisper as he leaned in closer, his breath caressing y/n's ear. "don't worry, my prince. i have no intention of causing you any harm... yet. consider this a taste of what's to come. your defiance only adds to the pleasure I derive from breaking you."

y/n's mind raced, his emotions a tumultuous whirlwind. he knew he had to find a way to escape sungchan's clutches, to protect himself and his knights. but the odds seemed insurmountable, and the path to victory obscured by sungchan's overwhelming power.

as y/n lay on the bed, his body still tingling from the impact, he braced himself for what lay ahead. the battle had taken an unexpected turn.

sungchan's eyes glinted with a mix of mischief and desire as he slowly crawled over y/n, his movements sinuous and deliberate. he leaned in close, his lips barely grazing the shell of y/n's ear as he whispered, his voice dripping with tantalizing promises.

"i was hoping for a show, my dear prince," sungchan purred while playing with y/n’s hair, a sultry smirk playing on his lips. "but i guess i'll have to take matters into my own hands."

y/n's heart raced, a mixture of fear and curiosity filling his mind. he couldn't help but ask, his voice laced with a hint of defiance, "w-what are you going to do?..."

sungchan's laughter filled the room. "oh, my sweet prince, you'll find out soon enough~”

with a swift motion, sungchan raised his hand, his fingertips glowing with an eerie, otherworldly energy. he whispered spells under his breath.

y/n's vision blurred, his consciousness fading away as he succumbed to the power of sungchan's magic. in the span of a few seconds, his body went limp, collapsing onto the bed as he slipped into unconsciousness.

"now, my prince, it's time for the real show to begin," sungchan murmured. he traced a finger along y/n's jawline, his touch sending shivers down the prince's spine even in his unconscious state.

after a few seconds, y/n's eyes fluttered open, his consciousness returning to him in a haze. as his senses slowly awakened, he became acutely aware of the chill in the air against his exposed skin. his heart pounded in his chest as his gaze fell upon his torn clothes strewn across the floor, leaving him completely vulnerable and exposed.

a mixture of shock and horror washed over y/n as his eyes shifted to sungchan, who knelt between his legs with a sinister smirk playing on his lips. sungchan's fingers danced along y/n's inner thighs, teasingly tracing the contours of his skin. The sight of sungchan toying with his hardened cock sent a shiver of pleasure mixed with humiliation down y/n's spine.

"y-you monster!" y/n's voice trembled with a mix of anger and humiliation. "how dare y-you!"

sungchan's laughter filled the room, a chilling sound that reverberated in y/n's ears. "how dare me?~" he purred, "then why is your body reacting to me?~"

sungchan leaned in closer, his breath hot against y/n's ear as he whispered, his voice laced with both menace and seduction. "you look so hot under my touch~"

y/n's body trembled, a tint of pink appeared on his cheeks. he knew this was wrong and he was embarrassed. the prince wanted to defend himself but there was no chance.

as y/n attempted to move his hands, panic washed over him. his heart raced, his breathing quickened, but his efforts were met with resistance. he glanced down, his eyes widening in horror as he realized his hands were magically pinned to the bed headboard, leaving him completely at sungchan's touch.

a mix of fear and rage coursed through y/n's veins as he struggled against the invisible restraints, his body straining against the unyielding magic that held him captive. "let me go, you fucking devil!" he spat, his voice laced with defiance and desperation.

sungchan's eyes glinted with muse, relishing in the power he held over y/n. he leaned in closer, his breath hot against y/n's face as he whispered, his voice dripping with wicked amusement. "oh, my prince, don’t you wanna have some fun?~"

a wicked smile played on sungchan's lips as he observed the war within y/n. "you see, my prince, your defiance only makes this game more playful..."

sungchan's eyes gleamed with a mixture of admiration and sadistic pleasure as he praised y/n, his voice dripping with lust and power. "my, my, my, what a handsome prince you are," he crooned, his gaze fixated on y/n's exposed body. "and that beautiful cock of yours, it's simply irresistible."

a wicked giggle escaped sungchan's lips as he relished in the control he held over y/n's body. his fingers wrapped around y/n's throbbing length, his touch both teasing and torturous. "are you ready to have some fun, my dear prince?" he taunted, his voice laced with seduction.

y/n's anger burned within him, his defiance still present, but as sungchan's hand began to stroke his cock, an involuntary moan escaped his lips. the pleasure mingled with his anger, forming a chaotic mix of sensations that left him both frustrated and achingly aroused.

"y-you... ah~" y/n stammered, his voice filled with a mix of anger and reluctant pleasure. "you son of a... f-fuck!" his words were choked off by a moan as sungchan expertly played with the tip of his cock, rubbing circles that sent waves of overstimulation coursing through his body.

sungchan's laughter filled the room. "how cute~," he purred, his voice a seductive melody. "i definitely prefer this side of you more~"

sungchan's seductive words and skilled touch continued to push y/n closer to the edge of pleasure, but amidst the overwhelming sensations, a surge of anger and defiance coursed through him. his frustration reached its peak, and with a voice strained with desire and fury, he managed to utter, "i-im gonna... ah~ fucking kill... y-you, fuck!"

y/n's words were punctuated by a moan, his body trembling with a mixture of pleasure and rage. sungchan's relentless pace only heightened his need, pushing him further and further towards the edge.

sungchan's ears perked up at y/n's outburst, a wicked grin spreading across his face. he tightened his grip around y/n's throbbing cock, his fingers teasingly tracing along the sensitive tip that glistened with precum. a low chuckle escaped his lips as he leaned in closer, his voice dripping with amusement and a hint of sadistic pleasure.

"what was that, prince?" sungchan taunted. "did i hear a threat? how charming." his fingers continued to play with y/n's leaking tip, receiving a gasp from the prince. "but let me remind you, y/n, that here, in this moment, you are mine. and you can’t do anything about it."

y/n's breath hitched as sungchan's fingers circled and teased, his body betraying him in the most intimate of ways. each touch, each stroke of sungchan's fingers pushed y/n closer to the edge, the desire for release becoming unbearable.

y/n's body shivered as his orgasm crashed over him, shooting white ropes all over on his body and sungchan’s hands. hee panted heavily, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. sweat clung to his forehead and his body trembled with a mix of pleasure and exhaustion. but as y/n tried to catch his breath, sungchan's chuckle filled the room, shattering the brief moment of respite.

"oh, y/n~," sungchan taunted. "i'm not done with you yet." his fingers, still coated with y/n's sticky cum, descended towards the prince's stomach. with a twisted smirk, sungchan scooped up the milky fluid, bringing it to his lips.

y/n's eyes widened in disbelief as sungchan proceeded to eat his own cum, his gaze locked with the prince's. lust danced in sungchan's eyes as he savored the taste, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. "mm~ you taste so fucking amazing," he purred. "i can't wait to have more of you later."

before y/n could react or utter a word, sungchan descended upon him, capturing his lips in a passionate, possessive kiss. sungchan murmured between the kiss, "taste a bit of yourself." sharing y/n's own cum with him.

the taste of the prince’s own cum mingled with both of their mouths, their tongues swirling together. y/n's mind swirled with a mix of emotions, his senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

sungchan released y/n's hands from the headboard, granting him a momentary sense of relief. y/n flexed his fingers, feeling the tingling sensation return as blood rushed back into his limbs. his cock was still throbbing, but a glimmer of defiance remained in his eyes.

sungchan observed y/n's reaction with a satisfied smirk, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and lust. "looks like someone's eager for more, huh?" he taunted, his voice oozing with dominance. "don’t worry, I’ll give you everything~"

y/n tried to defend himself but nothing came out of his mouth. did the heroic side of him got consumed by the devil?

sungchan's cock was a sight to behold, long and thick, with prominent veins pulsating along its length. it stood proudly before y/n, an imposing presence that both excited and intimidated him.

y/n couldn't help but gaze at the impressive member before him, his eyes tracing every contour, every throbbing vein that ran along its shaft. the sight of it made his mouth water, his own desire growing with each passing second. he could feel his own arousal building, a mix of curiosity and a hunger to experience the pleasure that sungchan's cock promised.

sungchan's voice cut through the air, dripping with confidence and a hint of dominance. "you're in for a wild ride, my prince," he declared, his smirk widening as he gave his cock a few pumps, accentuating its size and hardness. y/n gulped at the sight, feeling nervous but also excited to try it at the same time.

"i know you're eager," sungchan continued, his voice laced with a commanding tone. "but take it slow first if you want. so that you can savor every inch of me." his words hung in the air, a seductive invitation that y/n couldn't resist.

y/n wanted to please sungchan, to feel the fullness of him inside him. with a mixture of anticipation and excitement, y/n leaned forward, his lips hovering just above the swollen head of sungchan's cock.

as y/n's lips brushed against the swollen head of sungchan's cock, a wave of realization crashed over him. what have i gotten myself into? he thought to himself, a mix of excitement and apprehension coursing through his veins. the boundaries he had once held so firmly were now blurred, and he found himself venturing into uncharted territory.

the taste of sungchan's arousal filled y/n's mouth, a heady combination of salt and musk that sent a jolt of desire straight to his core. his tongue swirled around the velvety flesh, exploring each ridge and pulsating vein with a newfound hunger. it was an act of submission, a surrendering of control that both thrilled and terrified him.

as y/n continued to take sungchan deeper into his mouth, he couldn't help but blush at the way sungchan responded. the low, guttural moans that escaped his lips fueled y/n's own arousal, reminding him of the power he held over sungchan's pleasure.

and as y/n's mouth continued to work tirelessly, he knew that once he crossed this line, there would be no turning back. but the allure of the unknown, the promise of pleasure that lay just beyond his grasp, was too enticing to resist.

sungchan's voice dripped with arrogance as he uttered his words, his dominance palpable. "i know you can take it all in, baby," he said, his tone laced with a smug confidence. and without any warning, he thrust his length y/n didn't take earlier into his mouth.

y/n's eyes widened, a mix of surprise and pleasure flooding his senses. the sudden intrusion made him gag, the sensation of sungchan's cock hitting the back of his throat sending shivers down his spine. his mouth stretched to accommodate the sheer size, saliva pooling around his lips as he struggled to find his breath.

drool trickled down the corners of y/n's mouth, a display of his submission and the overwhelming stimulation he was experiencing. he fought against his instinct to resist, allowing sungchan's cock to fill his mouth completely.

sungchan's grip tightened in y/n's hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he maintained control. "that's it, take it all," he commanded, his voice a husky growl. The mixture of y/n's gagging and drooling seemed to fuel sungchan's arousal, his hips instinctively thrusting forward, seeking more of y/n's warm wetness.

y/n's eyes watered as he struggled to find a rhythm, his throat constricting around sungchan's cock as he fought to suppress his gag reflex.

sungchan's voice filled the room once again, this time with a hint of admiration. "you've given me the best blowjob of my life, fuckkk~" he praised, his words causing a surge of pride and satisfaction to wash over y/n. the validation that he had pleased sungchan in such a profound way fueled his desire to continue, to push himself even further.

y/n's heart swelled at the praise, a mixture of pleasure and happiness flooding his senses. the thought that he had brought sungchan so much pleasure, that he had exceeded his expectations, filled him with an intoxicating sense of fulfillment.

but sungchan's words quickly shifted the focus back to the present. "i'm almost there, baby," he announced, his voice laced with a sense of urgency. it was a warning, a signal that the climax was close and y/n's purpose was to bring sungchan to that peak of ecstasy.

as sungchan's thrusts grew more erratic, his grip on y/n's hair tightened, a silent demand for y/n to keep going, to push him over the edge.

y/n's mouth continued to work tirelessly, his lips and tongue coaxing every last drop of pleasure from sungchan's cock. the taste of sungchan's essence filled his senses, pushing him closer to the edge of his own release.

with one final thrust, sungchan's body tensed, his grip on y/n's hair becoming almost painful. a guttural moan escaped his lips as he spilled his seed into y/n's eager mouth. the taste of sungchan's release sent shockwaves of pleasure through y/n's body, his own orgasm crashing over him like a tidal wave.

sungchan cupped y/n's flushed cheeks, his touch both possessive and tender. "swallow it all," he commanded, his voice dripping with a mix of dominance and affection. y/n obediently followed, swallowing every last drop of sungchan's essence.

sungchan's smirk widened as he watched y/n comply with his order. "say 'ah'," he teased, his tone laced with amusement. y/n opened his mouth, his cheeks still flushed from their intense encounter, and let out a soft, breathless "ah."

sungchan's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he praised y/n, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and arousal. "good boy," he whispered, his words sending a shiver of pleasure down y/n's spine.

y/n's blush deepened at sungchan's teasing words.

sungchan leaned in closer, his voice a low, seductive murmur. "you like being called a good boy, don't you?" he taunted, his words causing a surge of arousal to course through y/n's veins. the combination of sungchan's dominance and y/n's submissive nature created an intoxicating dynamic that left him craving for more.

y/n's gaze shifted away, his cheeks red. he hesitantly nodded in response to sungchan's teasing words, unable to deny the truth in them.

sungchan chuckled softly, his voice dripping with amusement. "aww, that's cute," he teased, his words laced with a hint of affection. the playful tone in his voice served to both tease and reassure y/n.

y/n bit his lip, unable to hide the bashful smile that tugged at the corners of his lips.

sungchan leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over y/n's ear as he whispered, "you're such a good boy, y/n. i love how eager you are to please me. this attitude is so much better than the heroic, bravery side of yours~" his words sent shivers down y/n's spine, his body responding to the praise and affirmation in the most primal of ways.

sungchan then looked down and saw that y/n had came without being touched. a mischievous giggle escaped his lips, causing y/n's blush to deepen even further.

"aw, baby," sungchan teased, his voice filled with playful amusement. "did you just come untouched?" he asked.

y/n's face turned a deeper shade of crimson immediately.

"it's alright," sungchan said, his tone gentle and comforting. "i'm glad i made you feel good. your pleasure is important to me~"

sungchan leaned closer, his breath ghosting over y/n's ear. "i have so much more in store for you, baby," he whispered. "you're going to be begging for more." he said the last sentence seductively making y/n gasp.

sungchan gently guided y/n to lay back on the bed, his touch both tender and commanding. he positioned himself on top of y/n, their bodies aligned in a sensual embrace. leaning in, sungchan captured y/n's lips in a passionate kiss, devouring y/n hungrily.

their lips molded together in a heated dance, tongues tangling in a fervent rhythm. sungchan's hands roamed over y/n's body, tracing the contours of his skin with a mix of possessiveness and adoration. as their kiss deepened, sungchan couldn't resist the temptation to leave his mark on y/n's exposed skin.

lowering his lips to y/n's neck, sungchan began to suck and nip at the sensitive flesh, leaving a trail of red marks in his wake.

moving downward, sungchan continued his actions, lavishing attention on y/n's collarbone. his tongue traced along the bone, leaving a wet trail in its wake.

y/n's breath hitched, a chorus of moans and gasps escaping his lips as sungchan marked him as his own.

sungchan's voice dripped with desire as he whispered against y/n's skin, his breath hot against the marks he had left. "you're so fucking beautiful," he murmured, his words laced with a mixture of reverence and lust. sungchan couldn't help but be captivated by y/n's allure, secretly enjoying each and every moment.

#kpop fanfic #kpop x male reader #kpop male reader #kpop x male reader smut #riize x male reader #jung sungchan x male reader #sungchan x male reader

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wistfulcynic · 3 days

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just finished a full rewatch of OFMD season one, which i'd not done for a while, and am now deep in the shrimp emotions. Why is this show so good.

specifically i'm thinking about the beginning of 1x07 when Ed says he's thinking about leaving. On to the next adventure, etc. He says it so casually, like it's no thing at all, and it makes me wonder how that scenario might have played out.

There was a meta i read shortly after the season aired (sorry, can't remember who wrote it) which said basically the plan to leave is Ed's way of protecting himself. By that point Ed knows he's falling for Stede, they've had their almost-kiss in the moonlight, their tender bathtub moment. Ed knows, even if it's only subconsciously, that if he stays he'll just fall deeper and harder and that will leave him vulnerable in a way he's not quite ready for.

so i wonder what would've happened if he had left then. Not with Calico Jack in all the heat of fraught emotions but on his own terms before his feelings for Stede grew beyond his ability to control them. i wonder how he'd have coped with losing Stede then.

because at that point, he's got no real reason to think his feelings are reciprocated. Stede clearly likes him, says flat out that he's Ed's friend, but nothing he's said or done would lead Ed to believe it's anything more than that. And Ed, as we know, is convinced he's unlovable so of course in his mind Stede could never love him.

which means that if he'd left then he wouldn't actually have lost anything. Stede and the Revenge could be kept as a lovely memory of a brief good time in his life. He might pine a bit, maybe give himself the luxury now and then to think about what if, but i don't believe it would ever reach the point of painting cake toppers or even crying in a dressing gown. i think, honestly, that had he left then Ed would've been okay, or at least not significantly worse than he was before. Still bored, still wanting to get out of piracy, still feeling sad and lonely and unloved but at least he'd have the memory of his friend.

what eventually renders that scenario impossible--what makes him leaving on his own plausible while he could never truly have left with Calico Jack ("never left")--is that by the end of episode 7 Ed has started to have hope. He's started to think that maybe his feelings aren't one-sided. Maybe he can actually have Stede. Maybe he can actually be happy.

i've often thought (as ofc have others) that it wasn't the loss of Stede as such that brought on the kraken era. If OFMD had ended with a successful talent show and Ed and the crew deciding to be a sailing theatre troupe instead of pirates, even without Stede, Ed would've been okay. Broken hearts mend. What tipped Ed over the edge was the loss of his hope, and the better life he thought he'd found a way to have.

not quite sure where i'm going with this if i'm going anywhere, just... it's an interesting contrast and imo a quiet turning point that neatly underlines just how important this is happening really was.

#also it's the hope that kills you but ted lasso is a whole other meta #ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd meta #our flag means death meta #edward teach #ed teach #blackbeard #ofmd blackbeard #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #ofmd 1x07 #this is happening

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canirove · 21 hours

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Friends, lovers… and an orange | Chapter 5

Previous chapter | Next chapter (coming out on Friday)

Masterlist

"The internet is going nuts about you and that Nico."

"Really?"

"Yep" Jourdan laughed. "Right now it is team Mason vs. team Nico, and it is so funny. I don't know who has the craziest fans."

"As long as they leave me alone..." Adele sighed.

"Have you heard from any of them?"

"Nope. Mason seems to be still working in Italy, and Nico followed me on Instagram and that's all I know."

"Was he just a one night stand, then?"

"Yeah. He's cute and we had fun, but I don't think anything else could happen."

"Then team Mason wins!"

"I hate you, Jourdan" Adele said, rolling her eyes.

"Hate you too" she smiled.

"And my mum is calling me, I guess it's time to leave."

"Oh, good luck! I can't wait to see those photos, they are gonna be amazing."

"I hope so."

"They will, you'll see. Good luck, Addie."

"Thank you. I'll need it" she replied before hanging up.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Mum, move your right hand a bit. Yes, perfect" Adele said before snapping another photo.

"She's a natural" she heard the other photographer say behind her.

"Both of them are" Maria Grazia added.

They had decided to stay and see her and her mum work together for the Dior campaign, which had made Adele feel even more nervous than she already was. This was her first professional photoshoot, and since being for one of the most iconic brands wasn't enough already, she had their creative director and a photographer who had been working for as long as she had been alive, keeping an eye on her.

When she first picked up the camera, her hands were shaking so much that she thought she wouldn't be able to take a single photo. But as her mum started posing, she relaxed and everything flowed.

"Ok, I think we are done" Adele said.

"Wait, no" her mum stopped her. "Let's take a couple more. Maybe standing?"

"Maria Grazia, what do you..."

"Yes, yes" she said, holding Adele from her shoulders and not allowing her to turn around.

"Ok…" Why were they all suddenly acting so weird?

"Now I do think we have them all" Elizabeth smiled after just a couple of shots. "Should we check them on the computer?"

"Sur... Mason?" Adele said when she was finally allowed to turn around. "What... How..."

"Hello, Addie. Elizabeth" he said with that smile of his that had broken so many hearts.

"What are you doing here?" Adele finally managed to say. "Weren't you in Italy?"

"I was, yes. But we wrapped up early, my mum told me that you were shooting your mum for Dior, and I said to myself, why don't I pay them a visit? I know this is huge and I wanted to be here for you. To support you."

"Thank you, Mase" she smiled, feeling her cheeks get warm.

"Mason, since we have you here, would you mind taking a photo of Adele and I together? You are the only one who manages to convince her to pose in front of a camera and I want to remember today."

"Of course. What do you say, Addie?"

"I'm not looking presentable, I..."

"Nonsense, you look beautiful. Give me that and join your mum" he said while taking the camera from her hands.

"C'mon, do as he says" Elizabeth insisted.

"Ok, fine" Adele replied, rolling her eyes and doing as she was being asked. Or ordered to.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"I hate you so much."

"Why?" Mason laughed.

"The trap you and our mums set up?"

"Oh, that. We just wanted to surprise you on a big day."

"Yeah, sure" Adele snorted.

"Will a macaroon make you forgive me?" Mason pouted, offering her the little box. After the shoot was done, they had decided to go for a walk around the city to catch up and stop at their favourite bakery.

"It may help" she said. "So, how was Italy?"

"Definitely not as fun as Paris. Every time I saw you on Instagram I wished I was here with you. It looks like you've made some new friends."

"I've met so many people, Mase... So many" she chuckled. "But I don't consider them my friends, just acquaintances."

"Nico too?" Mason asked as he looked down, suddenly too interested on the floor.

"Nico too."

"You won't be seeing him again, then?"

"Nah."

"Good."

"Good?" Adele chuckled.

"I mean, you've probably seen everything that is going on online. Team Mason vs. Team Nico and all that. You are struggling enough with everything going on with us, you don't need to add more to it."

"Yeah, you are right" she sighed.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

"Eating another macaroon?"

"Haven't you had enough?" Mason laughed, hiding the box behind him.

"No, I have not. I barely ate today, I was too nervous."

"Then let's go find something else to eat. This is too much sugar."

"Oh, c'mon, Mase. Just another one" Adele pouted.

"Nope."

"Just one, please" she said, trying to take the box from his hands.

"I said no" Mason smirked, lifting it in the air so she wouldn't reach it.

"That won't stop me. I'm almost as tall as you are."

"Yeah... Perks of having a mum who is a supermodel and a dad who could have played basketball, right?"

"Exactly" she said, standing on her tiptoes and reaching the box.

"Addie, wait… Addie!" Mason said, the macaroons that were left on the box falling to the floor. "Now what?"

"Now I guess the pigeons will be having a feast, and you'll have to buy me lunch" she shrugged.

"Ok, come here you little rascal" he laughed, putting an arm around her shoulder and starting to walk. "What do you fancy?"

"Pasta."

"Addie, I just came from Italy. Can't we have something else?"

"Ummm... No" she replied with her best smile.

"Ok, then. I can't say no to that face" he said before kissing her cheek, her skin tingling where his lips had been. It was something Adele had never felt before with any other guy, and definitely not with Mason.

#mason mount #mason mount fanfic #mason mount imagine #football fanfic #football imagine

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zerobaselove · 2 days

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an arm's length | kim taerae

pairing: taerae x reader

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 951

warnings: some minor swearing. lowercase intended, not proofread

notes: loooooove me some angst into fluff. i feel like this is still kinda rough but i got a couple angst with a fluff ending requests for taerae so i thought i'd fulfill those :D i hope u all enjoy <3

close, but not close enough to burn. that was your rule. never let anyone close enough to burn you, don't let yourself get hurt. you had lived by those words for as long as you could remember, and you were pretty good at sticking to them; until kim taerae came along. and now you find yourself basking in the warmth, not worrying about the flames.

that would be your downfall, you just knew it. but you couldn't help it, couldn't help but getting close. keeping an arm's length turned into keeping yourself in his arms, and you didn't know how to handle it. didn't know how to go back to being cold.

sure, the two of you weren't anything official. nothing more than two friends.

two friends who kissed behind closed doors. two friends who fell asleep together more often than not. two friends who danced around the word love as if it would suddenly make everything too real, too fast. as if it would ignite and burn everything you had done, just like it burnt the walls you had built up.

even just the thought of love, the prospect of it all; of loving him, and the potential of him loving you back. the feeling tore at the walls of your heart brick by brick. years of hard work crumbling before your very eyes.

you were falling, you knew that. whether you meant for him, or falling apart, nobody would ever know. was there even really a difference?

fight or flight. a human's innate response to dealing with a threat. even if that threat was on your heart. and what would save you from falling? flying.

so you couldn't have been too surprised at the pounding at the door one night, opening the door slowly to reveal a disheveled and worried taerae. the one who had shown you what it meant to love, who made you face the fear of falling.

taerae was looking how you were feeling; a mess. out of breath from presumably running up the stairs to your front door, hair disheveled and glasses askew on his face.

"i have't heard from you in days," he panted out, "and when i tried to call you it wouldn't even ring through, i thought something happened." his voice was laced with worry, and you couldn't stop your heart from beating out of your chest. he cared. he really cared.

you opened the door wider, ushering him inside to take a seat in the familiar living room. "sorry about that," you muttered, remembering why you were ignoring him in the first place, "my phone's been dead and i just forgot to charge it." only a partial lie. your phone really was dead, but not for the last week or so that you hadn't messaged him.

"that's bullshit and you know it," he shook his head, "just talk to me."

talking. easier said than done with a heart seemingly beating in your throat. it didn't leave much room for the words to push past, now did it?

sitting opposite of him on the couch, the two of you sat in silence. the tension was so thick you felt like you were choking on it, trying not to breathe it in; your chest tightened, clawing for a breath of air. and so, you stopped holding your breath. you let yourself be vulnerable, even for a moment.

"i'm scared," you breathed out, not knowing what else to say. you hadn't thought this far ahead, but the softened eyes and small, urging smile seemed to help the words form.

"i just," another deep breath, "i'm scared because, i've never felt this way about someone. i've never let myself be vulnerable, and it's terrifying." you don't know when his hand found it's way to yours, but you were thankful for it, for the way it tethered you back to the earth and away from your mind. "i love what we are, and i want it, want you, permanently. but i can't get past the voice in the back of my head saying that i'm going to ruin it, or that i'm gonna get hurt again."

you felt like you were running out of breath, taking a moment for another inhale and exhale before letting the words continue to spill.

"kim taerae, i don't know how you did it but you got past the walls that i had built up, the ones meant to keep you out, meant to keep my feelings locked away. and now you're here, and i want you here," you choked on the tears now rolling down your face, "but i'm scared."

taerae gently lifted his free hand to wipe the tears from your cheeks, looking at you with more fondness than you were even sure was possible. "i'm scared too y/n," he pressed his lips together, "every day i am terrified that maybe you don't want me beyond our bedroom doors, that beyond the threshold, i'm just another friendly face to you."

he lightly squeezed your hand as the tears threatened to spill from his own eyes. how long had his eyes been so glossy? so full of stars, and yet so full of the fear of a sky without them.

he took a moment to collect himself, now holding both of your hands in his. "but it's a lot less scary alone," he smiled gently, "you don't have to be scared alone, not anymore"

the tears had begun rolling again as you leaned in to press a chaste kiss to his lips, feeling his own tears on your cheeks, mixing with your own.

maybe falling wasn't so bad, as long as you had a partner to do it with.

#zerobaseone #zerobaseonefics #boys planet #boys planet fics #boys planet imagines #boys planet reactions #kpop #boys planet drabbles #zb1 #zb1 x reader #zb1 imagines #kim taerae imagines

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n1ghtfurys · 3 days

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For the record

Mentions a toxic relationship

(Also I've never done this before so....yeah.)

“For the record this is self destructive” Soaps tone is flat, this has happened so much he's not even shocked anymore. Simon's mad over you, you have a fight, break up and he comes crawling back even when it's your fault. You make him stupid and it grates on Soap like nothing else, the fact that you don't like him doesn't help the situation much either.

“For the record I'm aware of that.” Ghost replies sounding exasperated, he knows you're bad for him. You like the attention you get, the way he fucks you when he comes back like he's hoping you'll see him as the only guy in the world and in a sense you do. You love him, you really do but you can't help yourself. When it's good it feels too good, so you fuck it up. You know it fucks with him and you know Soap hates you for it but you can't help it. You know one day he might not come back and that terrifies you, you're trying to stop it but old habits die hard right?.

Simon sighs and drags his hand over his face. He knows it's dumb to be so caught up in you but you get him and he can't explain it other than he loves you, loves being with you. Even the stupid bits where you decide you hate him, all the mood swings and screaming and shouting. The make up sex, the cuddling, the way you rake through his hair, how sweet your voice sounds, all of it.

Usually whenever you guys ‘fall out’ he spends the entire time fantasising about what he'll do when he gets back to you, that mixed with the fact that he was on deployment before your last spat has him reeling. He’s nothing if not pent up, the anger doesn't help either. He hasn't been able to get you out of his head, he's lost count of all of the wet dreams and the videos he's replayed. Some of them weren't even sexual, just videos of you smiling at him (from a vacation he took you on a while back).

He shifts his hips, trying to make the way his cock is chubbing up, again, from just the thought of you less noticeable.

“Si-” Soap begins but Simon cuts him off.

“For the record I've been picturing her body draped over the sofa wearing nothing but my mask.” He regrets it the minute he says it, he can't stop the way the idea of you like that makes him feel. How it makes his cock throb.

Soap rolls his eyes and makes an exasperated noise. “For the record.” He mimics clearly annoyed.

"I'm screwed." Simon knows he's right, he knows the two of you are toxic but he's addicted. Everything about you is so good, and maybe if he keeps coming back you'll realise that whatever fucked up reason you have for treating him like this isn't worth it.

Simon and Soap sit in a charged silence for a while before Soap appears to get sick of Simon's awkward fidgeting.

Simon gives him a grateful nod before Soap pauses at the door, “For the record, I think you should leave the lass, no matter how bonnie you think she is.”

They both know it fell on deaf ears, not only because he was too focused on how bad he wishes he could push his cock into you instead of his hand but also because they both know he's down bad.

The way Simon's palming at his cock the minute the door clicks shut is honestly pathetic, he wants you so bad it feels like he needs you. He dips into the grey joggers he has on and pulls his aching cock out and gives it a few fast tugs, before pushing his thumb over the tip and smudging the pearly bead of pre like you do.

He bucks up into his hand, your name falling out of his mouth as he imagines it's your soft hand wrapping around the base of his cock. As he wishes it was your tongue circling its sensitive head.

He drags his hand along the throbbing member remembering the way you clench around him. Envisioning your perfect form bouncing feverishly on his cock, milking him dry.

Before he knows it he's thrusting into his own fist, moaning your name over and over as if it will make his thoughts real while he spills over his knuckles. All while wishing he was cumming into your needy little cunt.

#cod smut #cod men #ghost #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghost smut #ghost x reader #drabble #smut #soap cod

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incorrect-stardew-quotes · 2 months

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Farmer: Have you been crying?

Shane: What? No, I just have really sweaty eyes.

Shane: Wait, that's disgusting. Yeah, I was crying.

#sdv #stardew #stardew valley #sdv shane #stardew shane #stardew valley shane #sdv farmer #stardew farmer #stardew valley farmer #sdv incorrect quotes #incorrect sdv quotes #i can't remember if i've done this before.... hm

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everythingsallticketyboo · 2 months

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Nina: Why are Crowley and Aziraphale sitting with their backs to each other? Maggie: They had a fight. Nina: Then why are they holding hands? Maggie: They get sad when they fight.

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youremyonlyhope · 7 months

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I love when I see posts like "Share how many crochet WIPs you currently have! I have 5, it's so many!"

Like, girl, I have unfinished projects from over a decade ago that I refuse to frog on the off chance I decide to finish them. I've found years-old projects I forgot I even started and will impulsively just finish it on the spot. I've started three different projects in the last 2 months, including one I started yesterday, that I already know I may or may not finish within the year depending on motivation.

The number of WIPs I have is infinite.

#crochet #knitting #needlepoint #sewing #embroidery #shoutout to the time it took me 4 years to make my dad a hat. and like 6 years to make a turtle for a teacher.#i picked up yarn spinning for ONE day in like 2017. i have not done it since.#there's a half finished elephant amigurumi sitting in a basket and i started that guy in like 2011 #i have two maybe three shawls i know of that are sitting unfinished in a storage bag #plenty of swatches of things that i start and lose interest in #currently i have a cardigan i wanted to make and started it and then got bored so i stopped #there's a hat i was knitting for my nanna that i started maybe 2 days before she passed #and that's sat unfinished i can't even look at it. i have no clue if i'll ever actually finish it.#there's at least one skirt i never finished sewing. and two skirts i have all the materials for but haven't started.#i know i have one beach cover up dress and one cover up skirt that i started in 2017 and didn't finish.#i think my oldest work in progress though dates back to when i was 9 or 10. i made a slipper. never finished the other foot.#that was in 2005 or 06. so literally i might have WIPs older than someone who is reading this.#and those are the just some of the ones i REMEMBER. buried in my yarn stash are probably others i've just forgotten.

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headcanonthings · 1 year

Conversation

Jason: I’ve come with friendly advice.

Tim: I don’t want your advice.

Jason, pulling out a gun: Fine, then it’s unfriendly advice, but your going to listen to me.

#incorrect quotes #incorrect Batman quotes #incorrect batfamily quotes #incorrect dcu quotes #dcu #batman #batfamily #i'm almost positive that i've done this one before #but i can't remember if it was for these two #or a different group #but i'm too lazy to try to use the search function or go through my entire blog to find it #Jason Todd #red hood #Tim Drake #red robin dc

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aresianrepose · 1 year

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Before the semester kicks off and murders me, @disniq asked for my essay on Jason Todd and hysteria. So, without further ado, here is an actual essay (fucking dissertation) because I refuse brevity. It is extremely long. I’ve split it into sections so you can find the section header and read what you want. This does not encompass all the narrative trauma themes and lived experiences that this boy holds, just specifically hysteria.

Jason Todd, The Hysteric & Bruce Wayne, The Batman

I think it’s a common reading that Jason Todd is girl-coded and the patron saint of victims, at least within the circle that I’ve fallen into within this fandom. There are plenty of meta discussions on why those readings stand, so I’m not going to reiterate them. A pillar of him being girl-coded and someone trauma survivors have latched onto as one of our own has to do with being written in the context of hysterical femininity. And let me just say, I don’t think that writing was done in a way that he was intentionally coded as hysterical, but it is a function of our patriarchal society that this coding was used on him albeit without the explicit purpose of writing a hysteric story.

For the purpose of this post: the word woman includes ciswomen, transwomen, and any person who is socially positioned as a woman regardless of gender identity. I include the positionality here because anyone can experience misogyny and sexism depending on the perception of the perpetrators either interpersonally or systemically.

The History and Context of Hysteria

To understand the context, we have to look at the history and oppression of hysteria. Hysteria (in the modern context of psychology) emerged in the nineteenth century and is difficult to define by design and often applied to traumatized, unruly, and broken women. The main patriarchs who contributed to hysterical study were Jean-Martin Charcot and Sigmund Freud. I only mention this because it’s important to know their names moving forward for any of this to make sense. The beginning of this started with Charcot literally putting women whose lives had been marked by rape, abuse, exploitation, and poverty on display in his Tuesday lectures (which were open to the public) to show his findings on hysteria. This was actually seen as restoring dignity (fucking yikes) to the women because before Charcot these hysterical women were cast aside and not treated at all. In Charcot’s work, the women’s speech was seen as simply “vocalization” and their inner lives, their stories, their words, were silenced. After hearing a woman cry for her mother during one of the public sessions Charcot remarked, “Again, note these screams. You could say it’s a lot of noise over nothing” (Herman).

This led to Freud, Charcot’s student, wanting to surpass his teacher by discovering the cause of hysteria. This was disastrous. Freud started with listening to the hysterics. In doing so, he learned and believed them about the abuse, rape, and exploitation of their pasts. He then published his work and gave a lecture on it. The work rivals even contemporary psychological work on trauma in it’s level of compassion, understanding, and treatment of survivors. However, he was then labeled a feminist (this was all happening during the first wave of feminism) and professionally ostracized. How in the world could these aristocratic French men be sexually abusing their wives, sisters, and daughters??? Insanity, truly. And... This always fucking gets me. He recanted his work and then told his patients they all imagined it because they wanted to be sexually abused by their husbands, brothers, and fathers. This set back the study of trauma by literally a century. One colleague called his work “a scientific fairy-tale” simply because he had the audacity to believe victims. Also, I want to point out that the famous hysteria case during this time was the case of Anna O and she was ultimately villainized by the entire psychological community for going into crisis after her care provider abruptly ended their therapeutic relationship after two years of DAILY sessions.

Anyway. We can see how the power of these men over vulnerable women silenced, pathologized, villainized, infantilized, and used male ‘logic’ to completely destroy their credibility and lives under the guise of care and hysteria. Even when credible men lend their expertise and voices to the victims, their voices are silenced. This particular iteration of hysteria lasted over a century, and we are still dealing with the consequences of these actions and ideas within our social construction, medical and mental health care, interpersonal relationships, and more. Patriarchal pillars such as hysteria don’t die. We saw it move from hysteria to schizophrenia (which used to have the same symptoms of hysteria before the diagnosis changed in more contemporary psychology) after this which led to widespread lobotomies and electroshock therapy (my least favorite case of a lobotomy being done is on a woman who was diagnosed with LITERALLY ‘narcissist husband’) to depression in the 40s-50s with the over prescription of benzodiazepines to house wives to keep them in a zombie state (these prescriptions were sometimes double and triple what we take today with the intent of medical catatonia). In my opinion, as well as other counselors within the feminist therapy theoretical orientation, we are currently seeing it with the emergence of borderline-personality disorder. Think about how BPD is treated and demonized for a second. I professionally know therapists who refuse to work with BPD clients due to this villainization and just fucking gross perception of victims.

These are just the highlights, but it shows the history of hysteria. There have been centuries of women being marked as hysterical and the cures have ranged from lobotomy to bed rest (which sounds not so bad but read the Yellow Wallpaper and get back to me on that one). While the Yellow Wallpaper is fictional, the life behind it was not. After the traumatic birth of her child the author, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, was remanded to bed rest by the authority of her husband and doctor. Within the sphere of medical control, hysterical women are often treated as children while their doctors make decisions for their mental well-being without consulting them, or they hide the truth of their procedures for “the woman’s own good” and because “she’s hysterical and wouldn’t comprehend the logical need for this.” She then had a mental break due to the treatment. Again, we see hysterical women being silenced, infantilized, discredited from their own experiences, and under the narrative control of male logic and voices.

Hysterical women have often historically been seen as beneath men, except for when they’re dangerous. Listening to victims is inherently threatening to the status quo because all trauma comes from a systemic framework. The framework that upholds patriarchal power. It’s easy to see why that would be seen as dangerous to powerful men. We saw this with the European witch genocide in which oppressed women were targeted and wiped out under the excuse of what was considered women’s work. (Before this time, witchcraft wasn’t tied to any religion and was mostly just seen as women’s work. It was targeted specifically to have an excuse to persecute widows, homeless, disabled, and vulnerable women who no longer had men to reign over them during a time of political unrest and scarce resources). This time period saw hysterical and traumatized women demonized as dangerous, evil, immoral, hypersexual, and supernaturally wily. A threat to the moral fabric of society.

(Interesting history side note: this caused the view of women’s base traits we have today. It stemmed from the Victorian era that came after this time period in which women learned if they behaved a certain way, they would be spared the stake. For example, before the witch trials, women were actually seen as the ones with unsatiable sexual appetites, something we culturally prescribe to men now.)

Notice how none of this has to do with the actual abuse that happens to the women, but instead the labeling and treatment of women when they are already showing the symptoms of abuse, trauma, control, exploitation, and rape.

Jason Todd, The Hysteric

So, how does this relate to Jason Todd? To say that Jason has experienced trauma would be an understatement. Extreme poverty, loss of parent to death and addiction, loss of parent to the justice system, parental abuse, manipulation, witnessing violent crimes, witnessing the aftermath of sexual abuse and assault, arguably (not explicit in the text) his own sexual trauma, witnessing the dead bodies of victims, a violent death, and subsequently a violent resurrection. There’s also an argument to be made for being a child soldier and how that is romanticized up until he dies, but the text does not treat this as traumatizing.

Now, I’m not going to dive into the trauma he experienced. The purpose of this is only to look at how he’s framed as hysterical in the narrative, and as I stated, hysteria was a word slapped on women after they tried to talk about their trauma or exhibited symptoms (or were just unruly women). Jason does embody many facets of the victim experience and this is just one of them.

Feelings vs “logic” - Firstly, it is really hard to talk calmly about things that you carry, your experiences, your trauma, and things that specifically harm you. It is easy to talk calmly about things that don’t. This is why there is an abuse tactic of gaslighting or silencing victims by framing their very real reactions to harm or their triggers as abuse, this is known as “reactive abuse.” This tactic is also employed in oppressive settings where the privileged group will often default to ‘winning’ a debate by being able to remain calm while the marginalized group whose life, personhood, etc is being harmed by the things being discussed and are unable to have a sterilized, emotionless debate.

Both of these settings fit Jason nicely within the moral context of vigilante comics. He fought back, he didn’t lay down, and he will do what he deems as necessary to protect himself and others from his fate. This, however, is framed by Bruce and others as being just as bad as his murderer or even just as bad as Joe fucking Chill. To put this in perspective of a real world equivalent. Combine every billionaire on this planet into one person and instead of their shitty business practices murdering people, they did it with their own two hands. And due to their resources and political power, they would never, ever stop killing or be reasonably contained. More people would die with absolute 100% certainty. Would killing that one person make you equally bad as that person or violating the sanctity of life? That’s the moral question that Bruce puts onto Jason. While the moral question inherent to Jason is actually, is there a line worth crossing to provide reasonable safety (for yourself or the nameless community)? There is actually a difference between those two questions and the reactive abuse framing is certainly a choice. Also, it is funny to me that a man with the amount of power Bruce has (and frequently misuses) can lecture a murder victim on the misuse of power and morality. Are we supposed to be agree with his stoic, philosophical lecturing to a marginalized, abused, murder victim? (yes, we are). Bruce leverages (personal) philosophy against victim’s voice for their own safety, and take a wild guess which one is framed as logical and reasonable.

Jason’s morals come secondary to Bruce’s philosophy in a universe where there is still harm being done (but it’s an acceptable harm). Why is killing the line? Bruce is regularly destroying families and lives by feeding them into the prison industrial complex while supporting it with his whole chest. Or he’s disabling and seriously maiming people with the level of violence he uses.

Crying - Throughout the entire story of Under the Red Hood, we never once see Bruce emote while interacting with Jason outside of tight grimaces. With the exception of the shock he shows at the Joker’s life being threatened, which... Okay, suuure. We never see him cry during any of their interactions, but we do see Jason cry. Specifically, we see him crying when he’s at his most emotionally vulnerable and physically dangerous to the toxic male power fantasy. This kind of vulnerability is rarely shown by male characters, and when it is, it’s usually done with a mist of a tear in their eyes or their face is hidden. There are a few narrative devices that allow men to cry, but they are the exception rather than the rule. Usually, it’s to play for laughs, infantilize, or emasculate. Here, we see Jason combine the violence of a bad victim, bucking the system of power, and fully crying. Just slide right into that hysterical coding like a glove. Jason often shows his feelings entirely. Time and time again, the readers have seen Jason have breakdowns, cry, and be overcome with grief. This is tied to his portrayal as hysterical and unstable in the narrative, but in actuality it shows his capacity for love and how vastly impactful his death was.

This fits nicely with the next point that Jason fits into the hysterical box. Love is framed as one of his key faults. A son reaching for his father.

Love - One of Jason’s defining features is the amount of love and compassion he holds. He’s willing to put up with any treatment, shoulder blame, and sacrifice himself for others to almost an unhealthy degree. However, this doesn’t extend to what he defines as his baseline safety. This one line of safety is the one thing that can’t be crossed, even with all of the love he feels for his father. He desperately wants to feel connection, have a family, and be loved in return with the same unwavering ferocity love that he gives. This is such a fucking key part of the victim experience, especially victims of childhood trauma. The desperation to just be chosen. He’s raw and honest with his reasonable expectation for love to provide safety for him and that is framed as hysterical, needy, unstable, naive, and fucking childish. Victims know what they need to have safety, and this framing as Bruce knowing what’s best for Jason and literally giving a cold shoulder to his needs is disgusting.

Less than - Jason is portrayed as less powerful than Bruce even though they have similar expertise. There are so many instances of this that if you just open any media they both appear in, you can close your eyes, point, and land on an example. It makes me die laughing every time I remember that the Arkham games made Jason just one inch shorter than Bruce. Like, they can’t even be the same fucking height, that’s the level of insecure masculinity surrounding this relationship. Jason cannot and will never be able to be on par with Bruce because of his hysterical femininity and the power of Bruce being the self insert for the toxic male power fantasy. This power dynamic applies to the other batkids as well, but specifically in Jason’s case there is an element of hysteria. The reasons change because he’s so inconsistently written but usually he can’t surpass or even meet a stalemate with Bruce because he’s too emotional, he’s unstable, traumatized, and simply Bad. It’s even explicitly stated by Alfred in Under the Red Hood.

Victim blaming - Jason deserved to die because he didn’t follow orders. Jason deserved to die for not following his training. Jason deserved to die because he was an angry Robin (oh no a child had an appropriate reaction to sexual violence). Jason deserved to die for being human.

Infantilization - Jason is repeatedly infantilized in contrast to Bruce. When given the ultimatum at the end of UtRH, Bruce speaks to Jason like a child, or a bad dog. Ordering him to do things like, “enough!” or “stop this now.” Bruce knows what’s best for Jason (and for everyone in the entire world), we should really just take his word for it and not the victim’s. Imagine staring at a 6 foot wall of a man and scolding him like a child. Beyond that, as mentioned above, his views of love and safety are framed as childish. Even though they are actually leaning more toward collectivism rather than the rampant individualism that Bruce so strongly defers to. (also, just a side note, collectivistic methods in healing from trauma is actually the only scientifically reliable way to heal. Every other method has absolutely abysmal results and higher rates of relapses.)

Silenced and Safety Villainized - Jason is silenced in his own story, acceptable and honored when he was dead and met with vitriol in life. All of the love given to him as Robin turns to ash as soon as he collides with Bruce’s power and morals. I think any survivor can relate to the experience of being told that what happened to them was a long time ago and it’s time to move on. Or even that they’re leveraging their own safety to get what they want in a manipulative way. Regardless of whether or not there was any accountability or justice for the harm done to them. Alfred asks Bruce if he should remove Jason’s memorial in the cave like two seconds after learning of his resurrection because Jason’s methods of securing safety for himself and using his own voice to define his story. Bruce was able to tell Jason’s story when he died. He was able to memorialize, grieve, and ultimately define Jason’s story because Jason wasn’t there to speak for himself. When Jason does speak for himself, he is villainized and literally stripped of his past significance as Robin (or a good victim) by Alfred within seconds. This is reflected in real life with adoptee advocates speaking about how adoption is unethical/harmful/traumatizing and subsequently being framed as ungrateful, selfish, etc. They were little perfect victims without voices before they grew up and could speak for themselves.

Erased - Gestures at the entirety of how Jason is either talked about or completely erased during the 90s Tim Robin run. He wasn’t convenient to talk about, as victims rarely are. This also ties into how Steph’s death was erased and Babs was written like she “won” at trauma by simply... beating it???

Dangerous - Jason is framed as threatening the basic fabric of society (in a story with vigilantes this is hard to do, so they have him oppose the no-kill rule, and then doubled down on Bruce’s characterization of no-killing). Anything that bucks the status-quo is usually marked as villainous in mainstream vigilante/superhero comics, but this is a step beyond that into the interpersonal and political sphere. Hysterical women are often framed as dangerous, villains, snakes, and treacherous (the other side of this coin is weak, pathetic, and pitiable) because they are victimized and then have the audacity to do something to the system about it. Whether that be the system of their immediate families or the political sphere. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Jason was paired with Talia in Lost Days to hammer this point home to the reader. It could’ve just as easily been anyone with access to the Pit that rescued him, but no, we had DC’s favorite brown, treacherous, venomous, female punching bag.

Bruce Wayne, The Batman

Bruce fits well into the father, enforcer, and logical man slot in Jason’s hysterical story. There is a history of ownership throughout women’s history when it comes to their subjugation to men. Women actually couldn’t be put on trial before the witchcraft genocide because they weren’t seen as legally a person. Their male owner would be put on trial instead. Women would go from being owned by their fathers to their husbands after entering marriage, the most dangerous woman being one who isn’t owned (orphaned, widowed). Bruce does treat (and even thinks) about Jason like he’s something that he owns. He’s his protege, his son, and his responsibility.

The narrative function of Bruce as a perpetrator in Jason’s story.

“The perpetrator asks the bystander (reader) to do nothing. He appeals to the universal desire to see, hear, and speak no evil. The victim, on the contrary, asks the bystander (reader) to share the burden of pain. The victim demands action, engagement and remembering” (Herman).

Bruce does remember what happened to Jason. He keeps a permanent memorial to his dead son. However, this doesn’t translate into any kind of tangible action. He doesn’t do anything to actually stop the murderer who took his son’s life and he continues to throw child soldiers at the problem of crime (how many children have died for the sake of his no-kill rule at this point?). When met with the reality of his inaction, he fits into the perpetrator’s role like a glove:

“In order to escape accountability for his crimes, the perpetrator does everything in his power to promote forgetting. Secrecy and silence are the first line of defense... If secrecy fails, the perpetrator attacks the credibility of his victim. If he cannot silence her absolutely, he tries to make sure that no one listens... From the most blatant denial to the most sophisticated and elegant rationalization... One can expect to hear the same predictable apologies: it never happened; the victim exaggerates; the victim brought it upon herself; and in any case it’s time to forget the past and move on. The more powerful the perpetrator, the greater his prerogative to name and define reality, the more completely his arguments prevail” (Herman).

I think it is simply fact at this point that Bruce is the head patriarch in Gotham if not, arguably, in the entirety of DC. That level of power in the narrative cannot be ignored, especially when faced with the very real, screaming voice of a victim that Bruce uses all of that power to silence. Bruce, because of his status as patriarch, default protagonist, and self-insert for the toxic male power fantasy, has the ultimate power to name and define reality. Especially to the reader. Bruce doesn’t deny what happened to Jason, because that’s physically impossible to do. But what he does do is ensure that no one listens to Jason, discredits him, and rationalizes his own inaction, actions of violence towards Jason, and victim blames.

Here’s Bruce using the most base form of denial and victim blaming:

After this panel, Bruce also revokes Dick’s access to his childhood home simply for asking a question.

This theme extends to other members of the batfam because of Bruce’s narrative power over them. It’s why we can’t have Dick, Steph, Babs, or even Damian step in and relate to Jason’s trauma or vindicate him. Even when we, the readers, can see parallels and wonder why these conversations or bonds aren’t forming. Jason HAS to be a lone wolf because he is hysterical and a threat to the system of power. This also shows why most of his runs in group settings outside of the batfam fall apart or fall flat. If he was humanized by any other character or had his trauma validated in any actionable way, it would be recognizing the failure of the toxic male power fantasy. The readers are not supposed to see the flaw in this system that allows the bodies of children to pile up and sympathize with one of their voices. It would be a crack in the system of power that exists not only in the source material, but very much within our real world.

Side note: Jason is allowed to interact with others in a wholesome and validating way when he no longer threatens the systemic power of Bruce. When he is silenced by the writers and plays the “nice victim” (like Babs does), he is allowed connection. Only when his healing is done in a way that doesn’t demand action and is only his personal responsibility (gotta love the rampant individualism). If he is hysterical, demands action, and asks for someone to be held accountable for his death, he is shoved away into a lone wolf box. Examples: Gotham Knights (from my very basic understanding, I haven’t played the game, only seen play throughs) and WFA. Victims are acceptable if they do their healing in a neat little box and stay there, but hysterics are the ones who step outside of that box.

Red Hood, The Political Voice of Hysteria and Trauma

Red Hood is deeply political in terms of hysteria and trauma. Herman stated that victims and those that authentically care for them or listen to them intently (whether that be interpersonally, clinically, or professionally) are silenced, ostracized, and discredited. Survivors need a social context that supports the victim and that joins the victim and witness in a common alliance. On an interpersonal level this looks like family, friends, and loved ones. However, trauma is systemic and the social context mentioned above must also be given on a wider social scale. For this to be done, there had to be systemic change and political action. Jason had the interpersonal social support and witnesses to his trauma ripped from him by Bruce. So, we see him move onto a systemic level of addressing trauma in his own political way. He literally cannot escape Bruce and this constant trigger because of Bruce’s philosophy and just... fucking power to define reality... being re-enforced constantly in DC no matter where he tries to go. So, he tries to heal by taking the systemic issue of perpetrators who cannot be held accountable or have fallen through the cracks of accountability into his own hands in a very personal way. A one man political movement.

Whether his methods are moral or ethical doesn’t really matter in the overall framing him as hysteric. He simply has to be opposed by the male power fantasy in some significant way. This shows that the goals, needs, and work towards victim’s and the marginalized’s freedom is dangerous, doomed to fail, and ultimately unethical if the victim is framed in a villain light instead of the more pathetic/pitiable iteration of hysteria.

You can see how this is not only problematic but also reflects the real world values instilled in arguments against human rights movements (which are intrinsically tied to victims rights). Defunding the police is dangerous, the MeToo movement is dangerous, abolition is dangerous, trans rights are dangerous, etc etc etc. Think of the victims voices tied to each of these movements and how they are integral to the real change offered by these political movements. You can’t have human rights violations without creating victims. And you can’t have political movements surrounding human rights without listening to victims.

We can also see how the individuals within these movements are ostracized, villianized, and often silenced (sometimes ultimately silenced with death) because they rally against the systems of power that victimized them. The framing of traumatized, vulnerable people as hysterical is integral to upholding the system of power that traumatizes and harms them.

A popular comic book movie adaptation that highlights the importance of Jason’s hysterical framing and how it impacts the political narrative/how he is written is V for Vendetta. To be fair, it received an insane amount of backlash by conservatives (not within leftist or liberal spaces) for V’s methods in over throwing fascism, but only because of the movie’s release date being so close to 9/11. V and Jason have many parallels, it’s only the lack of hysterical framing that makes V more palatable to the viewer. We are told, not shown through behavior, that V is traumatized by his past and he does not pick a fight with the protagonist that functions as a toxic male power fantasy. He is the protag, with his version of Bruce being men who are not framed in a sympathetic, heroic, or relatable light.

Additionally, there is literally an unemoting mask standing between the viewer and V, whereas Jason takes off his helmet to allow the reader to see every aspect of his trauma and pain. V readily dehumanizes himself into an idea, rather than a person. Whereas Jason screams to be seen as a person in a very hysterical way. So, we can see how the framing of Jason as hysteric against the logical, heroic man greatly impacts how the audience reads him when contrasted by a very similar political story/character who uses similar (and arguably more violent) methods to meet his ends. (This just made me realize that I would die for a Jason adaptation written by the Wachowski sisters).

Jason’s work as Red Hood is seeped in leftist, victim, and community centered politics. His portrayal as a hysterical antagonist (at best an anti-hero) is rooted in misogyny and upholding patriarchal, capitalist, and the prison industrial complex systems of power. He is the righteous embodiment of “the personal is political” for victims. Even his Robin run draws attention to and shows correct, angry reactions to the system of patriarchal power in sexual violence.

Patriarchal Writing and Enforcement

Jason is girl-coded and hysterical because he’s supposed to be emasculated, discredited, and disliked by the reader. He serves the narrative function of boosting the toxic male power fantasy of Bruce and in doing so, the writers use one of the oldest tropes in the book (one that we have all subconsciously been taught since birth) to get the reader on their side. Make him a hysterical woman.

References: for anyone interested in furthering their understanding of any of the concepts mentioned above and to, you know, use sources for my own writing.

Barstow, A. Witchcraze

Bondi, L., Burman. E. Women and Mental Health: A Feminist Review

Freud, S. The Aietology of Hysteria

Gilman, C. P. The Yellow Wallpaper

Herman, J. Trauma and Recovery

Ussher, J. The Madness of Women.

Van der Kolk, B. The Body Keeps the Score

Wilkin, L., Hillock, S. Enhancing MSW Students’ Efficacy in Working with Trauma, Violence, and Oppression: An Integrated Feminist-Trauma Framework for Social Work Education

#jason todd #bruce wayne #hysteria #dc #meta #clovis writes #listen I regularly have to write 20-30 page research papers on therapy theory and mental health #I'm so sorry this is so long but it is actually impossible to shorten it #one of my profs once said I write in a way that's academic but still readable and know the meaning of brevity #and I was like: sir I've never been accused of brevity before #this took 3 days to write and get my thoughts straight on it #remember: you asked for this lol #holy fuck the word count on this is nearly 5k I'm so sorry #I literally can't proof read this because my brain has shut off from reading this post #there's probably some stuff misspelled and also missing from this but I'm done with it lol

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