Post Planecrash!

😭 Thank you so so so so so much for writing my request!! There's absolutely no rush with this I just wanted to ask another one, Because I'm kind of obsessed with your work-

Perhaps Jackie Taylor X Reader where they have been married for a long time. Like 10 plus years. She wakes up ready to go to work but their reading is standing in the kitchen, And it reminds Jackie of when they were so young and in love. It just makes her fall in love with the reader all over again and she decides she just has to take the reader and eat her out on the counter!

-🦜

── RUNNING HOME TO YOUR SWEET NOTHINGS

— summary: slow mornings with jackie.

— warnings: established relationship/marriage. fem!reader. domestic fluff & nsfw content. mdni.

jackie stretches as she wakes, letting consciousness settle over her slowly. the sheets are warm, cocooning her in their familiar weight, too tempting to leave just yet. from the other room, the quiet sounds of morning drift in; the rustle of pages turning, the soft clink of a spoon against ceramic.

jackie’s muscles, untrained but prominent from years of soccer in highschool and college, uncoil as she turns her head toward your side of the bed. it’s empty but still holds the warmth of you, the shape of your body faintly imprinted on the freshly washed sheets. not gone long, then. she smiles to herself, fingertips tracing the dip where you had been.

a soft weight presses against her shin, pulling her from the last remnants of sleep. glancing down, jackie finds your cat curled at the foot of the bed, paws tucked neatly under its chin. she reaches out, running her fingers over its soft fur, scratching lightly between its ears. the cat barely stirs, only flicking its tail once before sinking deeper into sleep. even after all these years, it still favors you.

with another stretch, she swings her legs over the side of the bed, the morning air cool against her skin. reaching for the worn sweater draped over the chair, jackie tugs it on quickly. yours, technically, but she’s long since claimed it as her own in the mornings. the fabric is too large on her, with sleeves hanging way past her hands, but it smells like you and the lavender laundry detergent you always buy and feels more comforting than any of her own clothes.

once she pulls it over her head and untangles her limbs from the sheets, she moves from the bedroom. jackie already knows exactly where she’ll find you.

as she walks through the hallway, she passes all the little signs of your life together: the framed photo from your honeymoon hangs slightly crooked on the wall, something you always insist you’ll fix but never do. tucked into the frame is a worn polaroid from your first apartment, covering a small crack in the glass. in it, jackie is holding up a wine glass, while you’re caught mid-laugh, leaning into her the same way you always have, even in the wedding photos that follow further down the hall.

the entryway table holds a vase of dried flowers, a bouquet she had given you months ago, now preserved because you couldn’t throw them out. nearby, a small stack of mail she keeps meaning to sort through, books piled beside it, some hers, some yours, overlapping in the same way your lives always have. it’s a cozy kind of mess, one that makes her smile even in passing.

and then there’s you, the centerpiece of jackie’s existence now, standing in the kitchen, bathed in the light that spills through the curtains.

you’re still in your nightgown, its hem skimming the curve of your thighs, and your hair is a little mussed from sleep. one hand cradles a mug, while the other flips absently through a book on the counter, your lips quirking every so often at whatever you’re reading while you wait for the eggs to cook.

jackie freezes in the doorway to watch you for a bit.

it’s been over a decade. over ten years of this, of waking up and falling asleep to you, learning every single one of your habits, and still, she finds herself caught off guard by how much she loves you and how much she still wants you, in all the ways that matter.

she remembers mornings like this from the beginning, back when you were both in high school, and time alone was a rare thing. the only moments you had to yourselves then were tucked into the short window between her parents leaving for work and shauna pulling up to drive you both to school.

everything felt like new territory back then. your presence in her house had meant rushed breakfasts at the kitchen counter, stolen kisses between sips of coffee in the too-large home of the taylors, always cut short by the sound of an approaching car and the reality that you couldn’t stay.

now, here you are, still stealing her breath away.

you glance up as if sensing your wife, and your face softens into a smile. jackie swallows, her heart doing something embarrassingly teenage in her chest.

“you’re staring,” you tease, taking a sip of your tea. jackie hums, pushing off the doorframe and crossing the room. “can’t help it,”

you laugh. before you can say anything else, she’s there, warm hands finding your waist, pulling you into her. sighing into the touch, you instinctively set your mug down on the counter as she buries her face against your neck and breathes you in.

“mhm, good morning to you too mrs (y/l/n),” you murmur.

god, jackie never tires of hearing that: your name, now hers.

it had never even been a question. the moment it came up in a long conversation spent curled up bare under the sheets of the cottage where she’d proposed, jackie knew. you had tilted your head, fingers tracing lazy patterns against her shoulder, and asked, ‘so, what do we do about names?’ she had just shrugged, as if the answer was the simplest thing in the world. ‘i’ll take yours’

and that was that. no hesitation or second thoughts, just certainty, like so many things when it came to you.

“you still like the sound of that, huh?” you tilt your head enough for her to kiss you properly.

“best decision i ever made,” jackie whispers, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. she can feel your smile against her lips in response.

“aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for work?”

she lets her hands slip beneath the hem of your shirt. “i changed my mind…”

“oh?”

“yeah. i think i’d rather stay here,”

you hum, and your fingers move into the hair at the nape of her neck, tugging just enough to make jackie sigh against your mouth.

she always knows where you need her before you do yourself, and her hands slide further up beneath the silky fabric, over warm skin, cupping all of your breasts in her palms. her teeth graze your bottom lip just enough to make you whine into her. she swallows the sound greedily, tilting her head to kiss you deeper, her fingers tightening like she wants to pull you even closer. like close will never be close enough.

just as smoothly as she works your lips apart to slip her tongue in, she hooks her hands under your thighs and lifts you onto the counter. with a startled laugh, you let her move you. jackie grins when she steps between your legs, roaming the expanse of your bare thighs.

“easy,” you tease.

jackie’s palms caress up your parted thighs, the heat of her touch leaving a trail in its wake until settling firm at your hips. she holds you there and you exhale against her, fingers slipping back into her hair, curling it in your fists.

your legs tighten around her waist, pulling her in closer until jackie swears under her breath, clearly feeling the warmth that radiates from your center. she breaks the kiss just long enough to press her forehead against yours, breathing heavy, lips agape.

“you,” she accuses with her index poking your sides. “are trying to kill me here!”

“i’m not doing anything!” you protest.

jackie scoffs, quick to steal another kiss. then another. and another, like she has all the time in the world. right when you’re sure she’s going to lose herself entirely, the kitchen timer beeps.

the eggs.

for half a second, jackie looks almost offended at the rude interruption, but then your head drops against her shoulder and your body shakes with laughter. she groans, but your laughter is contagious, and soon enough, she’s laughing too.

jackie doesn’t let go of you, blindly reaching behind herself to fumble for the stove dial until she manages to turn it off.

“you’re just going to leave them sitting there?”

she nods, lips trailing down your jaw again so her voice comes out muffled. “they’ll survive”

you wrap your arms around her shoulders whilst she kisses her way back to your mouth.

jackie’s fingers fumble with the tie of your nightgown, working it open without needing to break the kiss. years spent learning where to tug and pull to free you from your clothes are to blame, the different motions muscle memory by now.

no matter how familiar jackie is with your body, she will never not take her time savoring the sight of you: you’re not wearing anything underneath, save for a thin pair of panties, so with the way she’s pushed the gown open your chest is on full display.

“so pretty,” she purrs, already closing the distance again. her hands cup your breasts, rolling your nipples gently at the same time as she’s kissing you. jackie’s mouth wanders to the side of your throat, then further down.

there’s no longer need for claim, for desperate encounters that aim to prove something. jackie will occasionally enjoy ravishing you (sinking her teeth in your flesh until the skin between them bruises all while she’s really fucking you), but it has become this for the most part: gentle lovemaking whenever you have the chance, still unable to keep your hands off of each other.

her lips briefly graze over the valley between your breasts, then slide below your belly button as she lowers her weight to the ground in front of you. with a smile, you cup one side of her face, taking your own share of time to admire your wife.

jackie doesn’t let you have a lot of it, though: before you know it, her mouth is on the fabric of your underwear and your head falls back against the wall as she feels you up with her tongue and lips, pressing in the places she’s memorized by heart.

“is that okay?” she breathes against you, still fully clothed, but aching with want.

“mhm,” you tighten your grip and jackie, who sighs happily in response and reaches out to peel your panties off. she’s careful with it, making sure you won’t slide off the counter while she lifts one leg after the other, just to pocket the underwear once that is done.

an invitation would not be necessary, and still, you spread your legs wider, not out of urgency but trust, shame and self consciousness long outgrown.

she has seen you in every state, knows every scar, every curve, every place where time has left its mark and, still, jackie looks at you like you are the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. her hands brush over skin she’s traced a thousand times before, never with any less reverence.

you look down just in time to find jackie pressing a first kiss to your mound, her ragged breath ghosting over your soaked sex that pulses impatiently lower.

with the index and middle finger of her right hand parted, she runs them through you, spreading your labia open in awe. a breathless sound tears from your throat, aware of how easily her digits slide through your wetness.

“come on,” you urge, lifting a leg over her shoulder. easier access.

jackie complies; her lips are parted when she presses them against you, applying just the right amount of pressure. the moan you let out at the first contact is loud and ragged, echoing through the kitchen.

“right there,” you cry.

right there, not because jackie needs guidance but because you know she loves it when you’re open. loud. when you let her know that she’s making you feel good, whether it is by letting your moans slip or by praising her verbally.

the vibrations of the noise she makes in response go straight to your core, more arousal dripping for her mouth to drink up hungrily. it is coating her, slick and wet as she traces over your clit and swirls in clockwise circles.

for a while, jackie eats you out like this, getting lost in your taste just like you are in the sensations of her tongue flicking from side to side, licking broad strokes through you, then fucking into you deep.

her hair, a little longer now but still the same golden brown she’s been maintaining, clings to the thin film of sweat on her forehead in delicate strands, proof that she’s just as affected by what she’s doing to you, whilst her neatly manicured nails dig into your flesh. soft pastel pink almond shapes drag lines of red down the side of your thighs, goosebumps and shivers rising from the touch.

“you taste so good” she says softly once, then leans right back in to continuously flick your clit.

you can tell she’s toying with you, avoiding your most sensitive spots with purpose, only ever ghosting it briefly until you’re grinding yourself against her face in frustration you cannot contain. she knows exactly what you would need to get close to the edge, pretends to give it to you, then withdraws once pleasure starts building up.

“jackie,” you whine.

between your legs, she holds your gaze, reaches out and runs a hand through your folds. when she tilts her head, asking for permission silently, you immediately nod and jackie pushes forward, two fingers sinking into the heat of your cunt.

this draws the loudest moan from you yet, though you wouldn’t dare to try and stifle it.

that’s a habit you’ve long since left behind, discarded like the passed down furniture and mismatched dishes from your first apartment. then, everything had been hushed, kisses stolen behind locked doors, moans muffled into pillows. the walls were thin, the neighbors close, and the fear of being overheard turned every moment into a careful mix of restraint and want.

in the home you live in now, there are no walls to mind, no need to press a fist to your mouth to quiet yourself. here, you are free to gasp when jackie’s lips press against your clit, free to let her love you without reservation.

jackie has taken her mouth off of you to watch the way your face contorts in pleasure as she rubs the tips of her fingers against your g-spot, allowing you to see the arousal smeared across the lower half of her face, glistening beautifully in the light.

she’s moaning too, quieter and less desperate of course, but moaning all the same when she feels the way you flutter around her as though she could actually get off from this. your pleasure had always been jackie’s, too.

“good?” she rasps.

“mhm,” you lift your head from the wall behind you, watching in awe as jackie puts her tongue back to where you want it. you don’t even know what it is about jackie’s mouth but she could probably make you cum from nothing but gentle kisses if she tried, always knowing exactly where to move to coax the most pleasure from your body.

her hair curls up between your fingers when she starts sucking on your clit gently, drawing a contented hum from her mouth.

the words jackie is saying morph into muffled babbles against your cunt, her voice white noise to the pleasure that sets your nerve endings alight as she sucks, her eyes rolling back in their sockets at the taste of you.

“jackie” you gasp, your hips pushing further into her face. an unreleased tension starts building in your abdomen, making your whole body tremble wildly.

“are you close love?” jackie asks, her fingers thrusting into you at a faster pace. “it’s okay,” she sits back on her heels to look at you, her hand making up for the momentary loss of her mouth. “i got you. just let go”

your free hand reaches for hers, fingers lacing together so that she can give you one long squeeze. jackie’s mouth starts sucking your clit harsher, pushing into you deeper, making your walls clench around her fingers. the sensation is so much. it’s not nearly enough. it’s perfect, sending you over the edge in mere seconds.

with a strangled cry of jackie’s name, you cum against the feeling of her mouth on your clit and her fingers buried deep inside you. her voice feels distant as pleasure rushes through your veins.

“that’s it” jackie praises, holding you through your orgasm. “oh my god, that’s it. fuck, you’re so beautiful” she talks you through the entire height, her voice cracking whilst she watches you fall apart and come undone. she continues her licking and sucking too, until you comfortably move her head away, spent and on the verge of overstimulation.

with a wet pop, she releases your throbbing clit and presses a last kiss to your knee before rising to her feet. you’re still perched on the counter, catching your breath, warmth buzzing under your skin.

jackie reaches for the edges of your nightgown next, making quick work of pulling the fabric back together, tying it loosely at your waist. you watch her fuss over it with amusement, as if she hadn’t just spent the last several minutes undoing it in the first place. “very modest of you”

“someone’s gotta keep you decent,” she quips, a teasing smile on her lips as she slots herself back between your legs, hands settling at your waist. the kiss that follows is slow and sweet, her mouth still carrying the taste of you. jackie lingers until the soft scent of something cooking reminds you of the world beyond her touch.

your gaze flickers past her to the stove, where the eggs still sit, long forgotten. “so...you still want breakfast?”

jackie glances over her shoulder at the abandoned pan, then back at you, considering. “i mean, we did work up an appetite, huh?”

you roll your eyes, swatting at her arm playfully before slipping down from the counter. she doesn’t let you go far, her hands finding your waist again as she stands behind you, holding you close while you move around the kitchen.

When you ship a guy and a girl: "Eww. Why can't a guy and a girl be friends? They are besties, they are are like siblings."

When you ship a two dudes/chicks that have a close friendship and are like siblings or hate each other: "Yassss! The gays!"

dating jackie taylor! jackie taylor x female reader

she's a very clingy girlfriend, always on your side, with her arm intertwined with yours, hand touching your knee, shoe touching your leg under the table... she lives for the reactions you give her.

letting her put makeup on you. If you're already into makeup and use it regularly, she'll try new looks on you and always waits for your approval with an eyebrow raised.

if you don't wear makeup at all, she'll beg to try it on you until you let her. she rewards you with kisses after, don't worry. oh! but she has to take a photo before taking it off!

buying her a sweet treat she's craving, and she'll literally think about marrying you right there right now.

you have to study together in the library because if you study in each other's houses you always end up making out and getting distracted.

jackie leaving you cute, adorable notes on your notebook and locker, thinking about your reaction to them.

your parents loving her, she's so polite and respectful, to them she's the sweetest, kindest girl. not that she isn't- she is, but she's a little freak sometimes.

making you go to parties with her sometimes, just to get drunk and spend the night on your arms and lap. having to drive her to your house and putting a hand on her mouth to not wake up your parents.

waking up not knowing where she is, but as long as she feels you or smells you there, she knows she's okay.

watching her try on dresses, and she needs to you to be paying attention. otherwise, she trows a pillow at your face.

" which one do I look better with ? the white one or the purple one ? " she asks putting the two dresses in front of her body.

" baby you look good with anything" you say and she sighs and puts the dresses down.

" I love you for that but I really need an answer- which one ? " she asks again with her arms crossed.

" hmmm... purple " you say and she smiles, grabbing the purple dress.

" wait- I think I'll wear the white one. it's better."

watching her soccer games and being her number one supporter! wearing her number on your shirt and hugging her when they win.

when they lose, you're always there for her, even tho she's pretty confident and mature person, you know she gets sad even if she doesn't let it show that much.

cuddling her in her bed while showering her with kisses and teeling her about your day to distract her.

this goes the same when it comes to jealousy, she knows you love her, but sometimes she doesn't know how not show it affecter her, watching some girl talk with you all giddy and touching your arm and complimenting you- she feels angry but she feels angrier that it affects her.

reassuring her you love her and that interaction wasn't important to you, while showing her it's okay to feel like this sometimes, she's human. and teeling her you also feel that way when she's around Jeff of his friends.

which she shakes her head - " I would never in my life cheat on you with Jeff - with those boys - with anyone ! "

she loves flowers, is always buying flowers for you, it doesn't matter the occasion.

she has an album full of photos of you together/ letters you've sent each other/ silly things that reminds her of you.

makes a playlist of songs she thinks are the songs of your relationship, and she's so cute - always daydreams about you when it's on.

Her Heartbeat's Wednesday: You just adopted the path of being down bad, I've lived my life being down bad for my pookie Y/n.

YANDERE BATFAM × NEGLECTED READER!

- Hush now crybaby.

\\Part 1// \\ Part 2//

SYPNOSIS: After your death nothing felt the same.

Warning: Gore, death, violence, blood.

Everything happened in a flash, you couldn't even remembered what had hit you so hard to make your entire body run this high on adrenaline. You could feel your every pulse and the pounding on your head makes it hard to think properly.

When the clouds in your head finally clears you finally opened your eye's and looked down at your feet, your lifeless body laying on the ground.

Blood was profusely seeping out from the bash you received after the impact of the car... The car had hit you so hard that you flew and unfortunately your head landed on a fire hydrant.

The impact was so powerful that it left an open wound on your head... Everybody stopped to tape the situation not a single soul decided to even checked if you were still breathing.

You watched as the ambulance took your cold body. You watched as the medical staff's tried their best to wake you up. You watched as your own blood father hang up the call from just hearing your name, not even inquiring them further- He acted like your name was some curse.

You sit there by your body side, holding your own hands. Taking the little nursery book by the side table you began to read, you felt a little comfort but you can't complaint even a little was better than nothing.

The heart monitor began to beep indicating that you were no longer breathing. Staffs runs in trying to bring back your heart beat yet nothing worked you died that day.

You died because none of your guardians wanted to be involved with you... The hospital needed them to agree to a surgery yet since nobody or even if they picked up they just hang up without listening further.

You stood outside the morgue waiting patiently for your family to retrieve your body. You've been standing there for hour's, for someone who doesn't have a heart anymore it ache alot.

When your family finally arrived they were shocked, Damian was abit caught off guard, Bruce with the same face just more disappointed, Dick in tears, Tim was too sleepy to even react much... Jason was not present.

Barbara and Stephanie were crying holding your tiny cold hand's in theirs apologising, Duke was distraught and Cass you could tell she was uncomfortable.

Even during your funeral you stood beside your physical body, stroking your cheek and wishing yourself well. The funeral was small just the batfamily, your body was buried near the manor with high security.

Even your own mother didn't attend your funeral which made you frown which wasn't even your intention, your intention was to cry but not a single drop of tears could even fall.

Fortunately your mother did came but weeks after your funeral burst inside the manor and attack yout father. She was a mess, her mascara was ruined from the tears that won't stop flowing, her hair was extremely mess which was new. Your mother was a fashionable woman and seeing her this wild made you sad.

"You Piece Of Shit! OUR daughter died! How could you not inform me my babygirl is dead! I wanted to see her- To say goodbye!" Your mother yelled as she slap Bruce across his face. Bruce stays silent enduring the pain she was conflicting upon him.

"I left her with you so she could have something! How could You! She was so happy to have a father yet you let her chase your love and affection?! Even if you couldn't see her as your daughter why not call me??! I would have taken her with me!"

"...She was my world Bruce! My daughter... My baby... Now I can't even say goodbye. Im terrible, I should have been there..."

Your mother's grip on Bruce loosen as she fell onto the floor, sobbing into her hand's.

You slowly walk towards your mother, you wished you could have hug her in that moment for her to feel the warmth but you were cold.. Freezing, you don't think she would be comfortable.

Instead of hugging her you sit beside her holding her right hand, as you lean onto her...

"Im sorry mom, forgive me it's not father's fault... I was being emotional and being emotional makes me stupid...Maybe this is why nobody love's me"

Ever since that day Bruce became worst. You were haunting the manor watching as everybody tried to cope with your death.

You felt abit happy to be death, afterall you felt as your family finally noticed you. And all it took for them to love you was for you to die!

But it was tragic to watch your allready insane family become... This.

Dick was now sleeping on your bed every night, even when others tried to interfere he didn't budge. Holding onto the dress you wore that day and mumbling on and on about how he would take you to the park if you just come back.

Jason was also affected as much as it shocked, he was smoking more and barely even coming to the manor inorder to avoid anything that reminded of you.

Tim health was getting worst, he didn't even have the heart to look into any case at times and would just stare at blankly talking to himself and imagining that you were there.

Damian didn't show any weakness to anyone else he didn't show that he was greatly grieving. Nobody had a clue that he was trying to bring your soul inside your favourite doll. He would talk to himself which was alot tame than Tim but he was indeed speaking about how he will force your soul inside the doll just so everything could went back to normal.

Barbara was neglecting her job as Oracle. She doesn't have the energy to do anything, without your presence everything felt dead to her and if everything is dead what's the point of trying to salvage it.

Duke was taking it very well, talking about his feelings and making sure to clean your grave everyone Saturday, replacing the flower as much as he could... He was obsessed with your grave. At times he would sit there for hours just staring at it...

Stephanie wasn't as cheery as she was and even when she genuinely smiled it faid quickly... She kept getting nightmares of your body inside that morgue as a result she can't deal with crime including death in it. She gets reminded of you and when that happened she went into panick mode.

Cass on the other hand tried her best to move on unlike the others. But sometimes you would watch her as she entered your room and leaving quickly, it was as if she was trying to imagine you inside your room solely.

Bruce took it the worst, he would take his pent up guilt and anger out on any criminal, he even broke a couple bone of a guy who just rob a store with a knife. It was as if he was ignoring his own and the most important rule.

Silently blaming himself. He thought that Jason death would be the end of death in the family but that wasn't the case.

Alfred was heavily affected as well. He knew he was also in the wrong for favouring your other siblings while trying his best to avoid you during your time on Earth as a human. He would bake your favourite food and left it at your grave.

Alfred also had to stop the family from bringing your rotting corpse and dipping it into thr Lazarus pit. He knew you wouldn't like the idea of being brought back plus your body was too old to be able to be put together again.

Crime rate was raising because none of the family members were willing to talk about your death and keeping to themselves only. You could only watch as sigh as they tried to bring you back to life over and over.

The body inside the casket which was buried sixth feet underground was a simple decoy.

Your corpse have been rotting slowly inside a special room, where Bruce tried to bring you back somehow. You couldn't help but get teary just by looking at your corpse.

It was skinny and extremely pale... The stretch was horrible... Your body was clearly rotting away. It was not fun witnessing your organ being taken from your body just so your suddenly crazy/obessed father could bring you back.

Yandere batfam x Yellowjacket!Reader

The last footage of you was a grainy image—mud-streaked cleats, a school bus full of laughter, your jersey half-hanging off your shoulder. Gotham’s elite all-girls soccer team, off to nationals. That was supposed to be it.

You vanished over Canadian wilderness.

A plane crash.

No bodies found.

No signal. No rescue.

For 19 months, you were feral. Hungry. Cold. Hunted. You had blood in your teeth and dirt under your nails, and something in your eyes no mirror dared reflect. You clawed through snowbanks, gnawed on bark, and buried the people you once braided friendship bracelets with.

You loved one of them. She died in your arms. You still hear her scream sometimes when the city gets too quiet.

And the Batfamily?

They didn’t even notice.

They assumed you were on a “long mission” with some obscure Justice League branch. No one checked. No one searched. Not Bruce. Not Dick. Not the detective prodigies, the code-crackers, the Bat-tech masterminds.

You clawed your way back to Gotham on your own, with a body count and a stare like frostbite.

When they see you again, it’s on the news:

“Survivor of Lost Gotham Girls Soccer Team Returns After 19 Months in Wilderness”

Your face is sunken but beautiful in a hollow, terrifying way. A ghost wearing the skin of someone they should’ve protected.

The Batfamily descends like vultures.

Bruce is the first at your hospital bedside—gripping your hand like he didn’t leave you to rot, like he didn’t go to a gala the same week your bones started breaking from frostbite. He calls you his daughter. He says “I failed you.” He tries to cry.

You look at him with dead eyes and say, “Who are you again?”

Jason tries to joke. You used to laugh. Now you just tilt your head. “You’d be dead in a week out there,” you murmur. “They’d eat you first.”

Tim tries to “analyze the trauma” like it’s something to be solved. You stare at him until he leaves the room.

Cass sees the way you flinch when someone closes the door too hard. She doesn’t speak, just watches you move like a predator waiting for the wrong sound to pounce.

Damian’s mad. Not at you, but for you. He wants names. He wants revenge. You just laugh—high and bitter. “There's no one left to punish,” you say. “We handled it ourselves.”

There’s an edge to your voice that makes even him quiet.

Steph and Barbara cry when they see you. You walk past them.

You don’t want comfort.

You want distance.

The real twist?

You don’t want to reconnect. With any of them. Not the girls you survived with—twisted by guilt and secrets—or the family who abandoned you.

But they won’t let go.

The Batfam becomes obsessed. You're the girl they lost, and now they’ll do anything to keep you close again. Even if you no longer smile. Even if you no longer care.

You move into your own apartment. You disappear for hours. Your phone “dies” a lot.

But the shadows have eyes. You know they follow you. You feel the Bat-symbol carved into the back of your neck like a ghost brand. They want you docile. Hugging them. Forgiving them. Letting them own you again.

But they didn’t see what you did. They didn’t feel the crunch of bone in their mouth. They weren’t there when the screaming didn’t stop.

And now they’ll never understand.

A/N: req by @tearsofgreentea

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ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ʜᴀʙɪᴛ ᴏꜰ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʟᴏꜱᴛ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛꜱ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴊᴀᴄᴋɪᴇ’ꜱ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙʀɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴛʏ.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴊᴀᴄᴋɪᴇ ᴛᴀʏʟᴏʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴀ/ɴ: ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴢᴏᴍʙɪᴇ ᴀɴᴏɴ!!! ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ᴛʀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ɢᴇᴛ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴇᴇᴋ. ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ, ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ!!!! <3

You don’t mean to wander. It’s never on purpose. You’re not looking for berries or firewood or someplace to be alone.

It just… happens.

One minute you’re standing by the cabin with Jackie’s hand brushing yours, her voice tugging at the air like thread, soft, teasing, safe, and the next minute, you’re somewhere else. Somewhere quieter. You’re not even sure when you walked off. Not really. The trees aren’t even that different from the ones near camp, but now they’re closer together. Everything is muffled like it’s under snow, even though it hasn’t fallen yet.

You hug your arms around yourself and try to remember how far you went. Try to remember if anyone saw it. You didn’t mean to leave. You didn’t mean to worry anyone.

“Babe?” It’s Jackie’s voice, breaking through the quiet, “Babe— oh my God, there you are.”

You don’t look up right away, but her sneakers crunch over twigs and dead leaves until she’s right in front of you, hands already reaching, already checking if you’re hurt or shivering or just mentally gone in that way that makes her chest go tight.

“Hey,” she says, more gently now, her hand coming to rest on your elbow, then trailing down to your wrist. “What did I say about going into the woods without me?”

“I wasn’t—” Your voice catches, dry and small. You shift on your feet and try to smile. “I didn’t know what I was doing.”

She doesn’t look mad. She never really does. Even when her heart’s hammering in her chest, even when she’s scared.

“I know,” she says, and she sounds sad in that soft, familiar way she gets sometimes, like she’s hugging you with her voice. “But still. You scared me.”

You look down. “I’m sorry—“

Jackie sighs, as she steps in close and wraps her arms around you without hesitation. It’s not always easy, finding warmth out here. Everything is colder, harsher, even the air. But Jackie is warm, she always is. Especially when you don’t feel like you deserve it.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” she murmurs into your hair. “You just have to stay with me. Alright? Just… stay.”

You nod into her shoulder and feel the way her arms tighten around you like she can sense the way your thoughts try to pull you out of your own skin.

“You were overthinking again, weren’t you?” she says, not accusing, just knowing.

You don’t answer.

“I bet I can guess exactly what it was this time,” she continues, pulling back just enough to look you in the eye. “You were thinking I’m better off without you. Or that I don’t want to be with you anymore. Or that you’re too much.”

It hurts a little how spot-on she is.

“I—” You blink too fast. “It’s not fair that you always know.”

Jackie just smiles, tilting her head and brushing your hair back behind your ear. “No, it’s not, but I do. So listen to me, okay?”

You nod, because you’ll always listen to her, even if your brain still picks every word apart and second-guesses it later.

“Yes, I still love you,” she says clearly. Firmly. Like it’s something you need to hear over and over again until it sinks into your bones. “I’m not leaving, I’m not mad, and you’re not too much. I don’t care how many times I have to say it.”

You sniff, and your arms curl around her again. She’s smaller than she looks, all fine angles and gentle perfume that somehow still lingers in the wilderness. Like a reminder of home.

“I don’t want to be like this,” you admit into the curve of her neck. “I hate how my brain works sometimes.”

Jackie rubs slow circles into your back with the palm of her hand. “I know. But you’re not broken. You’re just you. And I happen to love you.”

You close your eyes, breathing her in.

“You always know exactly what I’m thinking.”

She hums softly. “It’s kind of my job, isn’t it?”

“What, girlfriend-slash-mind-reader?”

“Girlfriend-slash-anchor,” she says, leaning her forehead against yours. “Slash professional reminder that you are not a burden and I want you here.”

You laugh, a weak one, but it’s real.

“Even when I drift off all the time?”

She rolls her eyes and kisses your nose. “Especially then. You think I’d let you go off into the snow alone? Babe, please. If I have to tie a rope around your wrist, I will.”

You laugh softly and lean your weight against her. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

You smile, “Yeah, I do.”

She kisses your cheek then and laces your fingers together. Her hand is warm against your cold one, and it squeezes just enough to ground you.

“Come back?” she asks gently.

You nod.

And so you walk back to the cabin together, her arm around your shoulders like she’s afraid you’ll slip away again if she’s not touching you. You probably will, eventually. Your brain always does this. Always pulls the rug out from beneath you when you’re not expecting it. But Jackie’s always there. Always pulling you back in and putting you back together. She doesn’t act like it’s a chore. She’s just always there when you need it.

She makes you tea from some leftover herbs Lottie scavenged earlier that day and puts an arm around your waist when you’re too quiet for too long, nudges your knee with hers at night when you start staring off into nothing.

“Hey- you still with me?” she’ll whisper, and you’ll blink and find her grinning at you, warm and understanding.

One night, while the others are asleep and the fire is still glowing faintly in the fireplace across the cabin, you lean in and whisper, “What if I never get better?”

Jackie rolls onto her side beside you, tucking herself against your chest and resting her head just below your chin, listening to your heartbeat.

“Then I’ll love you like this,” she says simply.

“Like this?”

“Exactly like this,” she says. “Lost in the woods. In your head. A little soft, a little distant. But still you, still mine.”

You smile before you can stop it. “You’re such a sap.”

She kisses the side of your neck. “Takes one to know one.”

―୨୧⋆˚ Knee deep in the passenger seat :: pre-crash :: Jackie Taylor

If you had told me freshman year that I’d be making out with a girl I supposedly hated in the front seat of her car, I would’ve laughed in your face. And yet—here I was. Doing exactly that.

I hated you. At least, that’s what I told myself. But now? Now I’m starting to think that maybe I wasn’t mad at you—maybe I was just obsessed with you in all the ways I wasn’t ready to admit. Because if I really hated you, I wouldn’t be here, kissing you like I never wanted to stop.

I knew this was wrong. I was with Jeff. But somehow, this felt right. The way your lips moved against mine, the way your fingers tangled in my hair like you owned me—it was dizzying. Addictive. The kind of thing that makes you forget what’s real and what’s just a bad decision waiting to happen.

You were on the soccer team with me, and from day one, you made it clear you weren’t impressed. Called me a prissy little princess who expected everyone to bow at my feet. And maybe I should’ve been offended, but mostly, I was just shocked. Not because you were wrong—but because you didn’t like me. And yet, here we were. A messy, tangled disaster of a situation after an argument at a party.

You were hot. The kind of girl who made guys—hell, probably girls too—lose their minds. Ripped jeans, fishnets, black nail polish, that perfectly smudged eyeliner. The whole alt-girl fantasy. And right now? You were my fantasy.

We pulled apart, noses brushing, my breath coming out in a soft, nervous laugh. My heart was pounding. My brain was short-circuiting. Every single thought screaming at me to make sense of this, to explain it away.

"Uhm, that was uh—" But before I could ruin it, you just shook your head, shushing me with nothing but a look. And just like that, I shut up.

you can talk to this bot here!

GIRL KISSER NATION RISE! you guys didn't ask for this but my heart did! I am happy to say that I am a jackie taylor defender until I die! I love my wife!

i just wanted... trophy wife jackie who is the best wife and housewife ever and you love spending your money on her and she loves getting all dressed up for you, she even buys new lingerie and waits for you to get home from work 😵‍💫😪

TROPHY WIFE JACKIE!!!!!!!!! jackie dressing up to go to the fuckin' liquor store with you... she wants you to show her off. and you do! shoving your hand in her back pocket and squeezing her ass while waiting in line, jackie looking at you like you're the only thing that matters (you are). jackie who gets jealous of the cashier who you're buddies with and that always gives you free cookies.. she starts kissing your neck and mumbling for you to hurry up and pay so she can take you home (her ass is NOT driving.)

always buying her the prettiest jewelry and helping her put it on, getting distracted by the freckles on her face when you put on new earrings for her or accidentally kissing her neck for 5 minutes when putting on her new necklace.

jackie cooks for you and expects kisses in return!!! especially while she cooks. she'll whine that she can't keep stirring unless you kiss her >.> you're her taste tester too. she's so proud of herself when you groan and mention how good of a cook she is. she loves serving you too... thinking of coming home from work as she's finishing the dinner, forcing you to go sit down before you can even get out of your work clothes. jackie who sets the plate down in front of you, leaning down over your shoulder and kissing your neck while helping you out of your jacket 😵‍💫

jackie who dresses up in her sunday best when visiting you at work just to tease you. she def brings you lunch sometimes too. wears those new clothes you bought her and has her hands behind her back as she asks you if you like them. jackie leaving the new lipstick/lipgloss you bought her alllll over your neck and shirt collar for the rest of your shift :-)

giving her some cash to buy what she wants and she decides that she wants to thank you for being the best partner ever and gets some lingerie she thinks you'd like. which also makes me think of jackie sending you lingerie pics.... but if she had the patience to wait until you got home, oh my god she'd be so excited at your stunned reaction. tossing the pillow she's been humping at your feet and pouting for you to come and touch her. jackie who flips you over and cocks her head to the side when you try to top, saying that she's in charge tonight. love the idea of her drooling and panting for you to let her cum by the end of night though 🤩

I HATE SPIDER LILLES

angst . gore . wip

summary : a lonesome child dies while a neglectful father loses himself to guilt and grief.

My body bleeds black as it eagerly gushes out my chest . The blade glistens in the faint moonlight - it looks so angelic , so beautiful as it lodges itself deeper into my chest . I want to cry - cry out to the world , cry out to everyone , cry out to them . There are so many questions, yet no answers . Why doesn't Daddy love me like he does to everyone else ? Why did my mummy have to leave me behind ? Why did my brothers have to ignore me ? Why does everyone hate me ?

It's unfair - so unfair that I have to die all alone in this cold , bleak night while they are wrapped in Daddy's warm arms - shielded from Gotham unwavering doom. My eyes strain as they stare out into the darkness- hopeful and naive searching for someone to save me from myself . Tears stream begin to stream down my cheeks as it dawns on me that no one was coming , that daddy and older brothers don't want to save me .

" I'm sorry daddy - I'll do better - I'll be better daddy , I'm sorry I disappoint you alot , I'm sorry I'm not strong enough daddy but - I can do it - I can be strong like jayjay - I can be smart like tim papa I promise - just gimme a chance daddy I can be like them - I can be fast like dick and I could be perfect like damian daddy please - please save me daddy please it - it hurts so much please ". I cry out but no one responds to me .

I let out a pathetic cry - was it too much ? Too selfish to plead for my daddy to save me from this cruelness ? Was I too weak ? Too imperfect for his perfect world ? Was I so forgetful , so useless to him that I deserved to die a painful , agonizing death ? Had I wronged my daddy by simply breathing ? Another painful cry leaves my trembling mouth - yet again questions left unanswered .

A spider lily blooms from the inside of my chest - practically weaving itself around the blade . My bloody , swollen hands reach to cup it like a desperate man would for water on a scorching desert. The petals are soft to touch - almost feather like . Is this what mummy's touch was supposed to feel like ? Soft? Warm ? Comforting? Its pungent scent invaded my senses - my body high on its vanilla like scent -

How sick , how cruel can death be ? How can it be so cold , so painful yet so warm and welcoming at the same time ? Was I always doomed to succumb to my own failure? Had my own brother predicted my downfall when he called me a failure and a waste of Wayne resources ?

Was I always doomed to die ? Did God hate me so much that he blessed my brother with a person to mourn him but left me without ? Another question left unanswered . More red spider lilies begin to bloom around me , swallowing me whole and for once - I give in - I embrace it for what does a child whom has experienced nothing from her own family left to embrace ?

I swallow another choked hiccup back - even now when certain death is about to consume me - I still bottle my feelings in fear of burdening others, even monstrous death himself. Spider lillies began to sprout from my own flesh .

Blood coating its red petals - like a wet blanket, its ire iron smell masks the once sweet vanilla scent . The flowers practically tear through my flesh , lovingly discarding my tissue about like confetti. It's painful, mummy , so painful, daddy - please save me - anyone please save me . I'm sorry for being me daddy - I promise to be better - I promise I'll be someone else anyone, Daddy, just make it stop .

My mouth opens to scream, but nothing comes out - nothing but another spider, lily - this time it's pure white . It sways it the wind like an enchanted being , a pure - untouched angel , an ethereal being spreading its soft love for all . The wind proudly ruffles through its prestine petals - a silent kiss of farewell from God , a kiss coaxing them to a far away land promising of a sweet , quiet , painless life. My dull eyes stare back into the abyss , this time, it's glassy , detached - its owner no longer belongs here , in fact they never had .

My eyes slowly closed in on themselves for the last time . Such a slow, pitiful death for a little girl . Left the world all alone and cold with no mummy and daddy to mourn her - no one to cry for her , no one to remember her . Such a sad faith for a little girl .

Bruce stares at name's dead body - guilt eats him alive as before him, his daughter's corpse lays on a plastic cover , cold and unmoving. He can feel bile crawling up his stomach as his mind digests how beyond mauled his daughter body looks .

His poor , innocent daughter lays there , and her once olive tone complexion turned into a sick ghostly pale . His shaky hands reach out towards her, unsure - how shameful is it that this was the first time he's embraced her in ten years ? He embraces her like a lifeline - like a drowning man would to a drifting raft in a vast ocean.

His worn hands traced the black , jaggered blade lodged in her chest - his eyes then dart to the spiraling spider lilly that wraps around it - as if this was some gift . How could such brutality present itself to be beautiful? How can it try to mask to horror of her heart torn into half with faux beauty ? He feels so angry - angry with the world , angry with himself - angry at her because how could she leave him - how dare she leave him in this cruel world with nothing but her cold corpse?

.

He tries to rattle his brain of any fond memories of you both to mourn over and nothing come up - his brain is blank and a delusional part of him wants to blame the fact he's in shock but the little rational part of him left picks at him for the lack of time and love he gave to you.

He wants to desperately go back in time - eight hours ago to stop you and Tim from a bitter argument , to go back and stop Damian from utter harsh words , to go back in time to simply love you like he should of , to go back in time to comfort himself when he got the call from Gordon telling him they found your dead body in an back ally thanks to the neighbors complaining about a disgusting smell.

He desperately wants to go back and fix everything but he knows he can't- what's done is done and now he has to live with the brutality of your death engraved in him forever , live with the reality he's failed you and you won't come back.

He looks down at the red spider lilies that sprout from around and from you - he feels them mocking him - laughing at him because they got to surround you , in your final moments , got to cherish you like a loving family, - got to be with you. Something he can only dream of.

He grips your dead corpse closer , practically encasing you with his entire being . Hot tears flow down his cheek, and he begins mumbling. Sorry, and I love you's, but what good is it talking and apologizing to a corpse when you had the real living thing all your life ? From that moment on - Bruce hates himself for what's happen , blames himself for your death- for your neglect and most of all he's grown to hate spider lilies because he blames them for taking you away from him and his family.

Bruce dislodges the blade from your chest , your inky , black blood coats it like a fountain pen . He grips onto the blade' handle , knuckles going white and strained the more he stares at it . He carefully places it in a plastic container and pockets it immediately - he doesn't trust the GGPD with finding out what happened with you , doesn't trust them handling your corpse with the utmost care and live that you deserved to have .

His face hovers over your open chest , he cringes at the scent of your corpse rottening, and the iron smell of your spilled blood . He rests his face on your wound carefully - scared he hurts you even more than he already did . His cheek collides with your cold flesh and dried blood, and it's there he mourns you over your broken heart - it is here he allows himself to be vulnerable with you - allows himself to shed hot tears . He pulls you in closer , hands embracing you for the first and last time .

He wants to say so many things, but nothing pours out of his mouth . How utterly pathetic , how cruel , how unfair - why , why must even in his last moment with you - he can not express himself , cannot express the fatherly love he feels for you . Angry hot tears cascade down his face - so angry , so blatantly disappointed in himself that he's failed you again and again .

He holds you like that the entire night into the early , wee hours of the mourning until a tired Alfred had to pry him off you.

" Master Bruce, please," Alfred pleads as he holds onto Bruce's crumbling figure . Alfred feels a wave of de ja vulnerable in case he looks at your corpse and back at Bruce - everything is the same way it was the night Martha and Thomas died - just this time Bruce is distraught beyond repair and instead of delicate pearls scattered about , it's your own flesh , blood and spider lillies .

He swallows back as he takes in your corpse - he feels so guilty - he knows he could of done more - knows that he could prevent you from feeling more alone and hurt than you already did but instead of prevention he was the enabler.

" She's gone Alfred - gone - she's not - she's never coming back home." Bruce cries out, pained and strained as he looks back at Alfred - pain clearly etched into his features .

Alfred is left speechless when he watches the police put away your corpse into a plastic baggy and transfers in the into the back of a van . He eyes Gordon, closing the door shut and entering the vehicle - barking orders to his officers .

" She - she deserves better," Alfred finally murmurs . Silence drafts between them as they watched the van and other police cars take off - their sirens echoing down the quiet mouring of Gotham .

Bruce's eyes follow them until they're out of his eyesight before looking Alfred in his eyes , " I am going to find whoever did this to her and break them," he says with finality. Alfred looks at him - realky looks at him and a part of him wants to agree with him - that you deserve justice- another part of him screams at him that they were the true cause of your despair - that it was hypocrite of Bruce and himself to feel this way when they caused this.

Alfred nods, and both men walk to the parked limo - determined to fix things - to bring you back home - to shower you with love and warmth - to hold you like the precious flower that you are .

Don't worry, beloved name , daddy would fix things - daddy will bring you back, sweet girl.