#I should’ve just done that two days ago but I was having too much fun going on moss walks and ignoring it

[goldkirk]

.

[fraugwinska]

Whoop - There it is! :> Glad to be back, folks! It's been too long, but I finished this behemoth of a Oneshot (7.1 k words FTW!) and I can't wait to see what you're thinking! Riding Alastor? ✅ Rut/Heat? ✅ NSFW? ✅ (Sorry minors!)

Thank you to @macabr3-barbi3 and also @ritualofcirice for encouraging me throughout the writing process - I'd still be rewriting and overthinking if it wasn't for you! <3 ILY

“Alastor, again?! Seriously, this has to stop. Look at the poor girl.”

“Oh Charlotte, don’t make an elephant out of a house fly – she knows it’s all in good fun, don’t you darling? No hard feelings, hm?”

You forced yourself to smile, although it must’ve looked strained, as you were still trying to get your tail to depuff.

“He’s right – no harm done, Charlie. It’s fine.”

Of course, it was anything but fine. Your whole system was still dialed in on the danger you had felt yourself in not two minutes ago. You should’ve been used to it by now. But you weren’t, and your feverish, nervous state you had been in lately didn’t help either.

Alastor had found sick pleasure in tormenting you since the moment you stepped foot in this cursed hotel.

You came after speaking to Cherri one night in the shady bar you worked at the time, not really believing that you could actually be redeemed but what she promised you’d find there: That the people there were weird but actually bearable to be around and lodging was free. The prospect of quitting your job, freeing yourself from that lewd, ambiguous boss of yours that also happened to be your landlord with a tendency to let his eyes linger too long on all the wrong places was too tempting to pass. Cherri’s latter statement was right, the room you were provided was almost as big as your flat, and the princess refused any compensation… even the meals were free. And for the first five minutes you thought her first one was, too. Charlotte Morningstar, daughter of Lucifer himself, welcomed you with open arms, and the other residents were a quirky, eccentric but still mostly friendly and fun bunch. But then it had begun – small at first, bolder by every passing day.

Alastor’s insistent, relentless, illogical bullying.

You knew about the radio demon, of course. You were neither naïve nor stupid - despite some acquaintances of yours would beg to differ - having heard and read too much about him not to be respectful yet distanced. Wary, but polite.

You were both woodland creatures, although he, despite being a deer demon, normally a prey animal, in a hilarious twist turned out far more powerful, dangerous and predatory than you. A fox demon, slender, clever and with an air of elegance and mystery around you – well, at least on the outside. The only thing you shared with your animalistic form was that you had a quick-witted, although very scattered, mind. You were a klutz, often speaking before thinking, getting yourself into trouble more often than being able to think or talk your way out of it. But you had been careful to tame that loose tongue of yours around him, not wanting to get on his bad side. And you weren’t, not in that literal sense.

You had barely introduced yourself, your new room key in hand and following the deer that enthusiastically offered to guide you to the right floor “as a good host would”, when you felt your foot being grabbed and twisted mid-step, making you tumble down a full flight of stairs. The grinning demon remained standing on the top, looking down on you with glowing eyes and a smug smile while you struggled to stand back up, your ankle sharply throbbing with pain. “Oh my, seems you are a flight risk, my dear.” He had said with a low chuckle, and if you’d usually reason that this incident had just been due to your general clumsiness, the deep satisfaction you could see in his eyes as you limped back up the stairs made it apparent that this wasn’t the case here.

From then on, stranger things just appeared to happen to you. They were slight nuisances at first, like getting locked in rooms that didn't even have keyholes or following stairs leading into nowhere, ending up in you getting exceedingly lost or terribly late to Charlies exercises, or furniture simply collapsing underneath you during dinners or get-togethers. Those incidents always were inconspicuously accompanied by the presence of Alastor, who appeared seemingly out of nowhere and with some kind of casual joke he cracked at your misfortunes, but there always was something about him that told you these so-called jokes were in a way maliciously aimed at you, more thinly-veiled accusations more than lighthearted antics.

As time went by his efforts became less discreet - he tried less and less to hide the fact that he was the cause of your various misfortunes. Things you carried with you disappeared, just to land into his hands... always personal, embarrassing stuff that he theatrically and loudly announced to anyone near before giving it back to you. "You surely didn't mean to drop this, darling, though I must say that sage green doesn't suit you at all." he had purred one time, twirling some lacy piece of underwear of yours in his hands when you had retrieved your laundry to carry it back to your room, holding it just long enough out of the reach of your panicked attempts to snatch it from him so that the whole lobby could stare in interest, pity or amusement before he finally let it fall into your hands. You were tripped even more, his shadow blatantly laughing at you from under the feet it was holding to make sure you'd fall, and his obviously faked tutting at it with that devious smile of his stung even more than the words that came with it.

"Now, now, don't look so affronted, my dear - what's a harmless prank between friends? No hard feelings, hm?"

That became a catchphrase of his - a question not so much directed towards the victim but an exclamation directed at everyone present to assure them that everything happening was harmless and perfectly okay. And you always played along.

Truth was - despite rhyme or reason – that you were infatuated with him. His witty sense of humor, that mischievous grin that set off so many alarm bells yet was oddly charming, the power and knowledge he was carrying inside him that showed on how effortlessly he handled any situation... maybe it was because he was almost everything you were lacking that you endured his relentless teasing. In addition to the respect you had for the older demon's dangerous side, the little flicker of hope in the corner of your mind that he might someday turn from 'funny but cruel' to just 'fun' if you'd prevail long enough was too strong and it became easier every day for you to try not to be bothered with each new stunt Alastor would pull, hoping that today would be the day where something in the impenetrable brick wall that seemed to be him would crack, allowing your real self to show through and find some acknowledgement in his eyes.

What had just occurred, however, had you question that hope tremendously. You had felt hot and feverish since yesterday, suspecting you'd maybe coming down with something. But as much as you tried to avoid the others as to not spread whatever disease you were cooking up, you seemed to keep running into them.

Not all of them, just the men, though.

New residents, delivery men, even Husk and Angel seemed to smell you from afar. They popped up everywhere, and you thought yourself delusional when they stood unusually close to you, were uncomfortably touchier and their eyes more intense and even hungry when they stared at you as you practically fled from them with the excuse of getting sick. The only one who kept his distance for once was Alastor, who you only saw once, with a twitching grin on his face and a dangerous aura of his shadows around him that seemed to flicker with dark energy when Julius, one of the newest hotel guests, had cornered you and put one of his bear paws much too low on your hips, suggesting to get a drink with him to cool you off. Though you had a feeling that the radio demons glowing eyes continued to stalk you, even without seeing him again. You had decided to skip dinner and just go to bed, hoping that whatever was happening to you, it'd be over by the morning.

But the night didn't bring any relief, you just woke up in more sweat and short-breathed exhaustion, filled with a dreading sense of anticipation for something unknown to you, as if your body was in constant alert mode. After checking the time, finding it close to breakfast and your stomach twisting with hunger, you made your way downstairs, hoping it was early enough for the others to still sleep and to catch Charlie alone and talk to her, not knowing how to describe the feelings you had felt but sure that somehow the hellborn princess could tell you what the hell was wrong with you. But as soon as you turned corner on the first landing base, you had felt it - electricity in the air.

In the blink of a moment, the floor became dark and gloomy, shadows creeping out from the growing void’s fraying edges, and instinctively you turned on your heels to practically fly down the hundreds of steps just in time before the deafening screech hit your ears. Every strand of your copper fur stood on its root as you panted, flaying yourself around another corner and watching a beast with familiar, yet obscurely twisted and long antlers crash into the wall behind you in frenzied pursuit. For one second too long you were frozen in place, realizing two things.

One: That it was Alastor that was chasing you.

And Two: That as soon as you knew it was him, your body reacted with a sudden wave of heat and ache, the thought of fleeing completely wiped from your mind but instead turning as if to throw itself into his waiting claws.

The momentum of the crash made him swipe at you, and without that one second too long that you would’ve needed to react, you didn't have time to dodge it. Instead, you had lost balance and fell backwards down the stairs, the impact on the tiled marble floor of the hotel lobby so loud it had Charlie and Vaggie rushing out of the kitchen and hurry towards your shocked and sprawled out, but miraculously unharmed form.

"Are you sure you're okay? You’re burning up…" Charlie asked, her hands gently rubbing the back of your neck as both women helped you back up.

"You look pretty rough..." Vaggie added, her brows furrowed. You were sure you looked like a complete mess - your hair sticking out in all directions, your tail bristled, your shirt damp and the fabric clinging to your flushed body, your pupils blown and your breath shallow.

"I-I'm fine, it's just a little fever. But, listen-"

A hand on your shoulder made you instantly mute, long, red tipped claws digging slightly into the thin fabric of your shirt, not breaking through but still stinging the flesh underneath. Its heat soaked like hot oil through the cloth down into your skin, burning its way deep into your core.

"How about I escort you back to your room, darling, as my way of apologizing for my little... shenanigans. We wouldn't want your current state to... affect the others. Does that sound reasonable?"

His voice was sickeningly sweet, almost too innocent, the smile on his face wide and his eyes twinkling in almost a warning that only you caught. From the corners of your eyes you saw Vaggie turning red with anger and ready to blow up at him, and Charlie, worriedly fidgeting with a conflicted face. If you'd stay silent, the girls surely would take you out of his grasp safely. You could escape him. Any logical mind would take that chance without second guessing, especially after what happened just mere minutes ago.

"That'd be nice, Alastor."

The walk back to your room was tense and quiet. His hand had left your shoulder, and the coldness it left behind made you want to wince. Your mind was still fuzzy and your body aflame, but as you climbed up the stairs, his tall figure close behind you, the space between the two of you suddenly felt much too large after the novelty of actual, physical contact. It just occurred to you that indeed, he had never touched you before - the pushing, shoving and teasing all done by the sentient extension of his shadow companion that followed him everywhere he went. But he had never directly touched you - until now. Innocently enough, and yet you couldn't seem to shake the weight of the ghostly hand still present on the dip of your neck. The thought alone made your tail shiver, and the sudden realization made your legs move faster, the tension in the air almost suffocating.

Reaching your door, you take a deep breath. The air around you smelled musky and thick, a scent that you could've sworn wasn't there before, and the feeling of his looming presence behind you almost makes you dizzy. You turn the key with slightly shaking hands and turn as you open it, expecting him to make a snide remark and say his goodbyes for now. Instead, you don't even get to move your head before his hand returns, this time on your lower back, to all but shove you into the room, followed by him, and the loud thud and click told you he'd closed it shut and locked it, the chiming of your key on the keychain shrill in your ears.

"You seem to be in quite the predicament, my dear."

He hummed, taking slow, deliberate steps towards you, and as much as your instincts told you to back away, the fire inside you had flared up and you stood still, waiting, anticipating.

"Your little display yesterday was a nice touch. A little too theatrical, perhaps, but not everyone has the natural talent for drama like I do, hah!"

He chuckled, coming to a halt barely a foot in front of you, his eyes gleaming with something you had seen before, but couldn't name. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice level.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about."

"Oh, don't play coy now, little vixen. You weren't really discreet in your search for a willing mate, but I thought you'd at least show some decorum not to flaunt your pheromones like this." You stared at him, a bit dumbfounded and the gears in your brain turning much too slow.

"...Mate? Wh-what pheromones? What are you talking about, Alastor?"

He blinked, tilting his head. His gaze was piercing, and yet you could've sworn he had a hard time keeping it on you, as if he wanted to look anywhere but at you. "Don't tell me you don't know?" he purred, a dark smirk pulling at his lips, a slight glimmer of the yellowish hue of his sharp teeth showing from behind them.

"How quaint. I'm afraid I didn't take into consideration that you are not the type to make yourself acquainted with the hellish form you took on. Why, you're in heat, darling. A very... desperate and needy one, at that."

You were unable to speak. You had known that something was off yesterday, when the men started crowding around you like vultures, their eyes hungry and their approaches over-eager, but not once had the word 'heat' come up in your mind. You had been in Hell for not even nine months, not exactly long enough to really explore all its nuances and differences. You had only heard the term 'heat' being used before in relation to animals – which, in hindsight, you technically were, in a way. Your ears and cheeks burned and your head was swimming, your tongue like a dry piece of sandpaper in your mouth.

"H-how did you... why did you..."

Alastor sighed, taking a few steps towards the windows. "As I said, darling, you weren't very subtle. And neither were the buffoons that stumbled over their own feet trying to make you choose them. The smell of a vixen in heat is hard to resist, after all." His head fell back, and the expression he wore when he looked at you was both frightening and intoxicating. "And the scent that clings to you is absolutely divine."

His words made you blush and shudder, the ache between your thighs growing so embarrassingly strong you quickly tore your eyes from him and looked at your hands that were fumbling with your damp shirt. He hadn't even touched you, but your body was already begging for him, as if it knew his presence would be the solution to all your suffering. Why were you reacting like this to him, and not the others that had swarmed you yesterday? It made no sense, none of it did.

"Why were you chasing me, then?"

The question escaped you before you could bite your tongue, and he turned around, a brow raised but his smile wider now and the smug amusement that was so habitual of him returning to his eyes .

"Well, my dear, you were running."

He laughed at your expression of shock and dismay, obviously proud of himself as you opened your mouth and closed it again and again, no words leaving it. You watched him raise his hand up as a means to silence your inevitable ramble, to stop you before you were even able to find something to say. "Although I have to admit that I quite lost myself a bit in the heat of the moment - pun intended. Which brings us back to topic."

He was closer now. Not fully in your personal space but in the almost invisible borders between friendly distance and invading closeness, arms behind his back and a mocking grin on his face.

"Now what will you do, little vixen in heat? Unlike our earthly counterparts, demons in heat stay in it unless they've bred sufficiently - Oh no, it'll only become worse the longer it’s avoided. Do you have one of the many low-rank rutting sacks that are roaming about the hotel just for a chance to fill you up in mind to sate your needs? Most of those unworthy imbeciles would happily spread their seed into you, but - Oh dear, where's the fun in settling?"

You couldn't think straight. You knew what he was insinuating but couldn't bring yourself to truly understand and accept the gravity of the situation. It felt too much like a dream, your mind foggy with fever and every nerve and muscle in your body aching. You knew by now that your mind had chosen the one you wanted long before your body forced a decision. But despite the painful want you were scared of saying it out loud, just to be rejected. Left wanting. The perfect and most cruel tease he could use against you yet, delivered by your own damned nature.

Alastor clicked his tongue, pacing from your one side to the other like a shark in the span of your thoughts that slowly began to settle, rubbing his chin in false contemplation. Your eyes followed him absent-mindedly, and when the whirlwind of your thoughts quieted for a moment, you saw with shock that pearly beads of sweat began to form under that fiery fringe of his hair and the fingers tapping on his chin twitched ever so slightly.

“Well, your scent certainly tells me what you seem to be unable to. But good things only come for the ones that ask for it, darling.”

Again, the tingling that started to become oh so familiar shot down to your belly with the heavy pull that the glint in his eyes had on you. Maybe it was the primal need you felt playing a trick on you but something in his composure, normally so perfectly put and stoic, struck you as hastier and more unrefined. The barely hidden jerk of his ears, the slightly glossy sheen in his eyes, and that intensifying smell of musk and moss and spices oozing from him all were subtle but noticeable telltale signs, just small imperfections in his person, tiny cracks of his façade that grew larger and louder the longer he was alone with you. And finally, they began to speak a language you knew.

Without knowing the details, you became aware, sensing that he, too, wasn't nearly as collected as he liked to present himself. As if the fact that he was here, alone in the room with you was enough to allow him to slip up, ever so subtly and most certainly not intentional. You had noticed from day one that it was nearly impossible to truly get a read of his emotions, an impressive trait you envied to some degree. Yet, the most rational part of his brain appeared to have shut off when his pupils widened ever so slightly as you closed the distance between your bodies, finally throwing caution and fear and hesitancy to the wind. It was a leap of faith.

"I… want you. If..." Your voice was shaky and breathy, and everything in you wanted to pounce him, touch him, bite and scratch and bind him to you, but you resisted, both scared and excited for his reply, the space between your trembling bodies paper thin. "... if you'll have me."

Before your brain could really register what's happening, his smile became predatory, his red irises swallowed almost completely by his dilated pupils, making the blackness appear brighter than his naturally glowing eyes, the shadows around him writhe and grow.

"Oh, I indeed intend to have you, little fox." he cooed, an echo-like echo mixing in with the static of his usual voice. It sounded wrong, demonic, but it lit a flame of pure want within you. It made you frantic in the need to touch him, and the first and only thing your trembling fingers could grasp was his red coat, the instinct you acted on so intense you ripped the fabric from his shoulders and sent buttons flying as your hands sprouted black claws.

For a second, you were blind with panic but his dark, rumbling laugh eased the fear, your head tilting up as he lifted his taloned hands, moving over your head and dragging the tie and the suit jacket along. He held your stare as the two items landed next to you on the floor and his head tilted, a silent, cocky, knowing approval of the first piece of your real, raw self he had gotten to see, and the gesture made you almost break from under his hands as they went back into motion, hungrily peeling the sweat-damp shirt off your back. He was quick yet careful, but when you felt those sharp claws of his scraping over the curve of your back you couldn’t stifle the wanton whimper they drew from you.

He shrugged the remaining pieces of shredded, crimson fabric off his shoulders and pulled on the sleeves of his ripped dress shirt, seemingly not as affected or distraught as you by having lost almost all of its buttons in your careless undressing of him, and it had you lick over your fangs that poked through when your senses became clouded with desire.

His skin faded seamlessly into soft, thin fur right under his clavicles, spreading over his lean chest and arms and towards his flat, toned belly and his hips, where it began to look like it continued on his legs but was covered by the high waisted pants of his immaculate dress outfit. Hypnotized by his alluring form, you barely noticed how quickly he took piece after piece of your clothing off of your sweaty body, the fire in you fanned by the mere feeling of his sharp fingertips dancing over your hot skin, until there was no fabric left to take off. You only realized you were completely nude once he pulled your head up to face him by your chin, his grin glistening as if he was salivating at the view of you - and it drove you mad. His other hand reached around you, finding the base of your bristled tail, long fingers raking through the fur and pulling teasingly on it.

"What a fine specimen of a vixen you are, darling..."

You don't give him time to crack any more jokes as you wrapped yourself around him, rubbing your head against his neck with a growl in a primal need to rub your own scent into him, marking him, wanting him - no - needing him and him only to ease the infernal heat bubbling inside you. The only one worthy, your instincts were telling you, and the thought was taking a hold of you, dragging you down whether you wanted or not. The sheer feeling of his exposed chest brushing against yours was almost overwhelming and your hips instinctively rutted against his, begging and silently pleading for him to fulfill his duty as your chosen mate. A chuckle, resonating deep in his chest, roused from him as he gripped your shoulder with eager force, throwing his weight into you and pushing the two of you the last couple of steps you've still had left onto your bed. Your hands found their way into the soft, maroon fur of his ears, his silky scarlet locks and down his lean, muscular back, clawing and pulling and kneading as the urge to ruin him just as he was ruining you became overwhelmingly powerful and undeniable.

"Aren't we eager now? So desperate to be bred."

A tight tug on your copper fur, which drew an unexpectedly lewd and desperate sound from you, tore your eyes away from the straining, bulging fabric of his pants, where they had previously been staring for a moment too long, your wide blown pupils reflecting his. With your cheeks, chest and shoulders flushed, you saw that a faint pink colored his features, which darkened more the longer he was looking you up and down, the large hand on your side flexing, scratching and kneading every inch it could reach, as if he was still trying to collect himself.

"Y-You don't look too u-uninterested as well." you stutter as his warm lips trailed over your collarbone and down to your nipples, softly sucking one while his other hand twirled the other between his talented fingers, the pinch deliciously painful. When he flicked his tongue out and you yelped at the intense, electrifying and unbelievable feeling he shot into you with that single, simple move, his laughter vibrated against the sensitive flesh between his lips and you swear it's the first time you ever heard him really, genuinely laughing - a deep and powerful and sincere sound. You can feel it throughout your whole body and soul and something within your mind flickers to life - as if his laugh had recharged a part that had been turned off and numb during all of your times in Hell so far, only now to feel truly alive, you and Alastor’s souls intertwining and connecting in a way you had never believed possible before.

"Finally growing into your fangs, I see. Well, if that's the case then..."

He moved swiftly, shifting his weight and pulling you with him, until your places were reversed and you sat on top of him with his hands on your waist pressing you down, down, down - the clothed bulge pressed against the junction of your thighs. A heady moan was ripped from the depth of your throat as your sex ground down against the coarse cloth of his pants, the delicious friction all the more tantalizing for the simple fact that it wasn't nearly enough.

His pupils were huge, black circles with ticking dials in them, nearly completely swallowing the rich crimson, and his normally discreetly hidden antlers sprouted with loud cracks, growing exponentially with each new sound that broke the seal of your lips, each buck of your hips or twitch of your thighs.

"... prove to me how you deserve to receive my seed."

As the words fully hit you, all blood rushes downwards and your body responds on its own. Your mouth latches on his, not sweetly, not gently - wetly, harshly, the clash of tongues and fangs drawing blood, iron and spice spilling in both of your mouths as a new wave of hot arousal wets your center, seeping into his pants.

With both clawed hands planted on his chest you could feel every single tremor, twitch and move of his - the furious pulse of his blood running under your fingertips, the shudder as you breathed his name against the heat of his jugular - you wanted to memorize, tattoo each second into your mind because despite the hazy frenzy you found yourself in it didn't elude you that this might be a once in an afterlife time thing. The thought pained you, and you felt tears prick in the corners of your eyes, which went completely disregarded by both you and the one so voluntarily trapped beneath you.

His claws raked up and down the smooth, soft skin of your sides, tracing every inch and curve and divet and painting them with red streaks, before he finally - FINALLY - moved them to his belt, the clinking sound of his buckle opened music to your ears. The buck of his hips in an attempt to get his slacks to slide lower, his soft grunt as his cock sprang up when he freed it from its clothed confines, it all drove you even madder, his powerful aura and the heaviness of his swirling shadows tipping and bending your senses as you desperately sought to draw out more of these delicious sounds, more of that want that was so obvious now in his eyes and staggered breath.

You lean forward as your tail whipped and shivered as it stood up bristled in arousal, almost losing your balance for a second, bracing yourself on his bared chest as your tongues, teeth and lips crashed together again. Jolts of white-hot electricity shot straight down to your core at the feeling of the damp tip of his cock catching on the wet and slick opening of your folds. A slow drag upwards and your nails clawed over his pectorals and ribs, his throat answering to your touch with a deep, feral growl, almost beast-like as he slid effortlessly up between your lower lips, the combined juices that leaked from his and your loins slicking the hard length. He didn't let you sheath himself into your throbbing heat though, as if to test you, and you whined as you lowered yourself onto the length of his shaft, rutting slowly on it to satiate the hunger that seemed to only grow.

It was merciful torture, a tease you didn't mind for once as the tip of his cock hit your clit every other slide and the vibration of his taunting purrs traveled throughout your spine, leaving behind a tingling burn. It had you toss back your head, the drool hanging from your lips, completely involuntary but curiously not ashamed of it.

"Al-Alastor, please...I need..." You whined, half out of breath and delirious as the sensation of his tip pushing up against your entrance just didn't seem to be enough, the emptiness inside you demanding to be filled. The very corners of his mouth twitched as he stared up at you, your hips rolling helplessly against his, panting and moaning and begging.

"Need what, darling?"

Your brain was foggy with lust, your fingers twitching as you leaned backwards, your claws digging so deep into the soft fur of his chest that they drew blood, and the fire raging inside you wild and untamable. You wanted to speak and plead, to make your tongue cooperate and to say all the right things, to seduce and coax his shaft to fill you the way you knew only his would, but his sultry yet rough voice seemed to have put a stop to whatever reasonable and rational thought that had somehow still remained. Eloquence eluded you in this desperate state, and the only words leaving your gaped mouth were broken and hoarse.

"Mate me. Fill me. Breed me."

"There's a good girl..." he rasped, one clawed hand firmly squeezing the side of your waist, while the other brushed the thin line of tears, sweat and drool hanging from the corner of your agape lips before holding his swollen cock straight for you to impale yourself on it with a moan.

"Take all of me in, little vixen, show me you are worth it. There you go..."

The stretch was blissful, but not as much as the euphoric waves crashing down on you once your greedy core had swallowed up the entirety of his length, your velvety insides clamping down on the girth the way a vise would. His sly coaxing sent another surge of raw, primal and animalistic passion rippling throughout your body, and with strange triumph you felt him experiencing the same kind of exhilaration, making you mindlessly jump forward and down to fully grind yourself down on his member with all the leverage your thighs provided, while simultaneously his strong grip on your waist and him bucking up into you in that sinfully precise way allowed for him to immediately slam right into your most intimate spot, burying his entire shaft into your dripping, welcoming heat.

Falling in sync was shockingly easy, his muscles as responsive as yours and your bodies molding together like two pieces of a perfect puzzle. He thrusted upwards with a force that took your breath away, forcing the air of your lungs to flow out with the repeated bounce and pressure, your ears ringing with the rhythmical slap of skin against skin. Relentlessly, minute after minute passed, and he cruelly ripped you away from tipping over the edge multiple times, your sanity tearing at the seams whenever he slowed you down on his throbbing cock.

In and out, up and down, faster and faster your two bodies worked together and his thick tip and tantalizing ridges brushed all too perfectly against every right spot as his pace quickened once again, making your eyes roll back and the need to cry out his name through desperate sobs over and over and over again became unstoppable, each time a little less distinct and a little more wild than the last.

"You are quite the noisy little one, aren't you? ǤØØĐ. I do love the way you scream my name." he so much as growled as you did exactly that when his fingers gripped on your hips even tighter, his hold more firm as he forced your trembling, exhausted frame up and down, each new hit a bit harder and deeper than the previous one, his entire body tensing as he picked up the speed to a feverish and merciless intensity that had you cry out with pain and pleasure alike.

"β€Ǥ for your release darling, tell me who you want to be filled by once again."

"A-Alas...tor! I'm- fuck... please, let- I w-want only y-ou..."

It was all too much - too hot and too big and too deep, too close and too far away - thick, hot tears joined the sweat and drool that ran down your face. You wished it was over and yet that it would never end, that you could stay frozen like this for the rest of eternity - filled and aching, burning and melting on him, giving and taken from. You were broken, yet pieced together at his hands, and all of a sudden, just like that, he moved you up and his cock felt so much thicker than before this time. With one last violent push he pressed you deep into his lap - You screamed as you felt something swelling inside you, interlocking the both of you as he came right when your own vision turned first white, then black while you mercifully collapsed on top of him, finally being allowed your long-craved release. Hot seed painted your insides and made your toes curl, his cock twitching deep inside you as he gasped through the last ropes of thick and warm release. It lasted and lasted, his hand frantically stroking over your spine and down your whipping tail while he shushed you and purred praise after praise into your folded ears.

It took a few long moments for the fog to clear from your mind before you realized you had buried your nose and mouth into the crook of his neck, teeth sunken in his taupe flesh and fur unconsciously. You dared to turn your head enough to watch his face - his eyes had returned to their usual shades of red, and the engorged branches of his antlers were slowly retracting back to the small, hook shaped ones nestling at the crown of his head. He was still smiling, wide and satisfied and superior almost. You gingerly retracted your fangs from his neck, but when you attempted to unmount him – rationality, and with it shame, creeping back into your consciousness - Alastor's arms locked firmly around your bare frame, rendering you unable to move.

"So eager to get rid of me, already?" he cooed, a chuckle rising from his chest. "I wouldn't advise to move yet, my little vixen - Not while we're knotted."

"We're... knotted...?!"

He nods, and you follow his intense stare down to where you and him were still connected. Sure enough, you couldn't make out his shaft itself but a noticeable bump stretching the flushed lips of your sex impossibly wide, the sight causing you to gasp and tear your eyes away in shameful realization. A tidal wave of blood flushed your cheeks - partly due to arousal, but mostly because of embarrassment and confusion, and you willed yourself to stay calm and not to freak out. When you looked back to him you found him grinning, his expression the picture of amusement but there was something tender in the glimmering ruby eyes that looked up to you. It felt strange that even though you were sitting on top of Alastor, you still felt small and submissive to him, how much dominance and assertiveness he could hold even in a position like this.

"How long...?" you managed to ask, avoiding to look at him by turning your head aside, staring at the mess of ripped and torn cloths on the carpet.

"How long?" he echoes, but there's a pause until he hums a dark and pleased sound, "Well, darling, your guess is as good as mine. Despite what you may think, I've never knotted with anyone before."

You thought your heart would jump from your chest and flutter through the room when his hand softly petted the base of your fluffy tail before his knuckles ever so lightly traced the line of your back. His other arm still held you tightly, and his fingertips danced over the heated skin of your side, the soft caresses a sharp contrast to the way he'd handled you only a few minutes prior. You were overwhelmed by the sheer gentleness and intimacy, the vulnerability it made you feel, and you felt a lump forming in your throat.

"Relax, my little vixen. You've been so good for me, so now let me service you while we wait."

Too stunned and overstimulated to respond you feel his mouth licking and kissing along the various bruises and cuts scattered over your chest and torso, his hands soothingly stroked every inch of your sweat-damp body, tracing the lines of the scratches and welts he had left on your hips and waist while he still managed to somehow hold you still. Every touch and kiss had your tail bristle and quiver, a whimper leaving your throat, but he didn't stop until his lips were pressed to the pulse on your neck, the steady and heavy heartbeat drumming against his nose and chin.

"You know, I knew you'd come to your senses and give in to my advances eventually, darling. Although I didn't think it'd take you to get into a heat to finally admit it."

"Your wh-..."

He latched onto your breast, sucking a little too harshly on the sensitive nipple as if that’d answer your unfinished question, and the yelp that tore from your throat turned into a moan when his teeth raked over the nub before his tongue flicked out, soothing the pain he had caused while your head swirled in confusion.

Advances?

What did he mean, advances?

All he had done since you two met had been taunting and teasing and chasing and ridiculing you... right? Another sharp bite on your sore bud had you gasp, partly by pain but also by epiphany.

Like a boy on the playground, pulling the pigtails of the girl he likes, Alastor had tormented you, chased you, tripped and caught you, waiting for you to get the hint - No hard feelings, hm?

All this time, every day and any second, in his own weird, twisted way, he had been showing a perverted version of affection and pursued you.

You weren't sure how to react, what to feel - there was too much to wrap your head around and no way in hell you'd be able to sort through it all right now, with his cock still locked inside you and his lips wrapped around your breast, still teasing, still taunting. Although now, with the context you were given, you welcomed it, wanted it even. The more you thought about it the more it all fell into place, and his actions towards you suddenly felt less and less like harassment and more like a tremendously badly executed attempt at wooing. But it was oh-so in character for him, the enigma that was the Radio Demon, and you would've laughed if his ministrations on your chest and his gently swaying hips wouldn't have coaxed your body slowly but surely steer into yet another, but softer - almost lazy - orgasm.

"You are... o-oh god... the biggest p-pain in the ass, Alastor…"

He laughed, another genuine and carefree one, the vibration of his voice tickling your flesh as you came again with a pitiful moan and he let go of the rosy, pert nipple to lift his head, the soft and tender smile and the glint of his sharp teeth a sight you knew you'd never be able to forget.

"That's what they all say, dear."

Tag, you're it! - @diffidentphantom @sirens-and-moonflowers @tayraedoll @catticora @valerie-is-in-the-cupboard as well as my fab four (whose fics carried me through my unavioidable vertigo pause)

LOVE YOU @hazelfoureyes @minkdelovely @sugoi-writes and @synamartia <3

[supernovafics]

series masterlist | last part — next part

pairing: modern!college!steve harrington x fem!reader, bestfriend!eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 5.4k words

warnings: explicit language, a bit of violence (kinda?) (only mentioned and barely even described), some angst

summary: you don’t know why you avoid telling everyone that you and steve are “broken up,”  but you do. and you don’t realize how much of a bad idea that is until way too late

CHAPTER FIFTEEN | ❝𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒖𝒕❞

Fall Semester 2016

“Who’s the guy again?” 

“I met him at the library. He asked to borrow my laptop charger and then when he was handing it back he asked for my number, and he texted asking to hang out,” You quickly explained as you slipped on your jacket and then turned to look at Eddie, who was sitting at your desk.

You weren’t particularly excited about the date, but you were excited to do something that you hadn’t done in a long time, and the smallest part of you could admit that you were doing this to try and be completely over Eddie. Your feelings being pushed and buried away were one thing, but if you were actually able to date someone else that had to mean that there definitely wasn’t anything else there. At least, that was what your mind told you, and it sounded somewhat logical.  

“If it sucks and you wanna get out of it, just call me,” Eddie told you.

“Robin already has that job,” You said. “We have a code word and everything.” 

He laughed a little. “What’s the code word?” 

“Dolphin.”

“That’s very random.” 

“Yes, and that makes it a more believable code word.” 

“Okay, makes sense,” He nodded. “Anyway, if she somehow ends up not answering, I will.” 

You doubted that would happen— you hadn’t known Robin for that long, but you already knew that she was very reliable. Still, though, you nodded at Eddie’s words because you liked how much he cared. It didn’t necessarily surprise you, but it still warmed your heart all the same. “Okay.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Spring Semester 2018

It was the book that was making you cry right then. Nothing else. 

And maybe that wasn’t entirely true, but it felt like the easiest explanation. 

You reread the last page a few more times before finally closing the book and setting it on your desk. It was the same book that you’d been reading in Mexico with Steve a few days ago. 

He was right about the ending— the son died, and it happened right after he and the dad finally got in a good place. Of course, he’d been right.

A part of you wanted to text him and tell him that, but you didn’t. Instead, you kept silently crying— trying to remember the last time a book made you this emotional, but deep down knowing that it really wasn’t just the book. 

You didn’t get the chance to force yourself to face the exact reasoning behind your tears before there was a knock on your slightly cracked open door and Robin was walking in a second later. 

“Hey, I have two things I need to tell you. One is a question from Talia, who is too lazy to get out of bed right now, and the other is very fun news,” She stopped when she noticed you crying. “Woah, shit, you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m fine. I just finished reading this book and the ending was pretty sad,” You answered, haphazardly pushing your tears away with the sleeves of the sweater you were wearing. “What’s up, though?”

“Is Steve coming to game night on Monday? Talia wants to decide on teams now because she doesn’t want to get stuck with Eddie again.”

“Oh, um, me and him broke up…” The words felt so weird coming from your lips and you suddenly wondered if it had been stupid to not tell her and everyone else sooner. Instead, over the last few days, you simply didn’t talk about him because the timing never felt right enough to say what you should’ve said.

“Wait, what?” The confused look on Robin's face was easy to read. “Is that why you’re actually crying right now?”

You quickly shook your head. “No, no, it was just about the book. The Steve thing doesn’t even matter to me.”

“So, what happened? And when? Was it the trip? Did he hurt you? Do I need to kill him?”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at how fast she was talking as she sat down at the foot of your bed. You turned to face her. “No, you don’t need to kill him, and yes, it happened right when we got back. We just realized that we want different things.” You shrugged halfheartedly. “Sorry, it took me so long to tell you; I know it’s only been a few days, but still. I just didn’t really wanna think about it, I guess.”

“It’s fine, that makes sense,” She assured you. “I know you and him weren’t dating for long but you two were really cute together.”

Hearing her say that, pulled at something in you for a second, but then you remembered that that just meant that you and Steve had been really good actors, pretenders, liars.

“Oh, what was the other thing you wanted to tell me?” You asked, shifting the subject. “You said fun news?”

Robin nodded. “Oh, yeah, I just found out about this party tonight at this girl’s lake house that’s an hour away. You wanna come?”

“I’m not really in a party mood,” You answered after the briefest moment of hesitation. It probably would’ve been good to get out of the apartment and actually do something that didn’t involve lounging on the couch in the living room, like you’d been doing since you got back from Mexico, but you couldn’t imagine leaving the confines of your room right then. “Sorry.”

“No, that’s understandable,” Robin told you. “I know you said that you’re fine about the breakup, but is there anything you want right now? We can watch a shitty movie, and Vickie will probably be okay with you having the last of her mint chocolate chip ice cream.”

You shook your head at her suggestions. “No, I’m okay, honestly. But, thanks, though.”

She smiled at you. “Of course, no problem. What are friends for if not someone to do cliche breakup stuff with? We could also burn any pictures you have of Steve, or throw eggs at his car, or key it?”

You laughed at that. “Great ideas, but hard no to all of them.”

“Okay, well, once you get to the anger stage of your grief, I’ll happily revisit any of those ideas with you.”

“There are no stages and there is no grief,” You told her as she got up from your bed. “I’m completely okay.”

“You’re voluntarily staying in on a Saturday night. I don’t know if I would call that “completely okay.””

“This is very normal behavior for me.”

She considered your words for a second. “Okay, yeah, maybe that’s true.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

It was the first time that the silence within the apartment felt okay. It actually wasn’t completely silent, you were watching a movie on the couch, but you were alone and felt entirely fine with that. 

You could feel yourself slowly falling asleep— head against one of the throw pillows and blanket pulled over you and it didn’t even really matter to you that it wasn’t even eleven o’clock yet— when there was a knock on the door. 

Weirdly enough, your immediate thought was that it was Steve, mainly because you knew that everyone else who could’ve been at the door right then was at a party an hour away.  

Instead, though, when you opened the door with your blanket still wrapped around you, it was Eddie standing there.

“Hey, I assumed you went with everyone to that lake house thing,” You said, pushing the door open further to let him in. 

“Robin mentioned it to me, but I had already planned on meeting up with a couple people from one of my classes at some bar,” He responded and you nodded as you closed the door behind him. 

You looked at him for a second. There was something weird about his demeanor right then. It seemed like something was wrong, and that quickly worried you because you couldn’t easily tell what that something was.

“Is everything okay?”

He shook his head, and for a few moments that was the only response you got, but then he was saying, “Not really.” 

“You’re being so–” You stopped mid-sentence when you finally noticed his right hand, how red and bruised it was. “Oh, shit, what the hell happened to your hand?”

“It looks worse than it feels,” He said, giving you a small smile. “Okay, actually, it feels pretty bad too.”

You dropped your blanket on the couch and then went over to the kitchen, grabbing one of the few small hand towels that sat next to the stove and then pulling some ice out of the freezer. 

“Come here,” You told him as you put the ice in the towel and made some sort of makeshift ice pack. Eddie joined you in the kitchen and you grabbed his bruised hand, softly placing the towel on top of it. You looked up at him. “What happened?”

He was quiet for way too long; things became almost unbearably quiet. You lightly nudged him with your foot. “Eddie.” 

He broke your gaze, looking down instead. “Fuck, it really sucks that I have to tell you this. I’m sorry.”

Hearing him say that only confused you further. “Tell me what?”

“I also saw Steve at the bar I was at…” Eddie started and then trailed off for a second. The look on his face made it seem as if the next thing he was about to say to you was going to be the most devastating thing ever. “And he was making out with some girl.”

“Oh,” Was all you said at first because you didn’t really understand why Eddie was telling you that right then and why he made it sound like the biggest deal in the world. And then, after the briefest of seconds, you were quickly realizing. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie told you, thinking that your “oh” was a sad one. “I wish I did a lot more than just punch him, but the security at that place is actually good so they immediately threw me out.”

Given what you two were currently doing in your kitchen, you should’ve expected Eddie to say that, but it still surprised you so much that you could feel your eyes widen. “What? You punched him?”

“Of course I did,” Eddie said, like it had been an obvious choice. “I saw him cheating on you.”

You dropped your hands from his and immediately covered your face. “Oh my god. I can’t believe you did that.”

“Please don’t try to defend him right now. I know you really like him, probably even love him, but what he did is so fucked up.”

You were shaking your head and kept your hands covering your face as you said, “He didn’t cheat on me.” 

“I’m sorry,” You heard Eddie say. “But, I promise you I know what I saw. I wouldn’t be telling you this if I wasn’t a thousand percent sure. I also wouldn’t have punched him if I wasn’t sure.”

You could’ve simply told him that you and Steve were broken up just like you told Robin earlier, but you suddenly felt tired of lying, and for once, telling the truth genuinely felt easier. 

You dropped your hands from your face and looked at Eddie. “He didn’t cheat on me because we're not together. We were never really together.” 

It surprisingly felt like so much of a relief to say it out loud, to finally be honest, so you kept going. “It was all fake; the entire relationship. And I’m so sorry for lying to you and to everyone. This entire thing ended up being so stupid and the worst idea ever. But, I don’t know, at first I thought it could be kinda good. And Steve thought so too; he was the one to suggest it actually, and he also had his own reasons for wanting to do this fake dating thing. I figured this could be the best way to do something about my feelings for you without outwardly admitting how I felt and potentially fucking up our friendship in the process, and I wouldn’t have to live in the unknown anymore like I’ve been since freshman year. And just for a second it seemed like it actually was working, and maybe you did feel something back. But then we had that conversation on your fire escape and I knew then that you’d never see me as anything more than as your best friend. It kinda hurt finally realizing that, but eventually it felt okay, though.” 

You let out a breath and inwardly felt as if the biggest weight had just been lifted off of your shoulders.

“You liked me?” That wasn’t exactly what you expected to hear Eddie say in response to your word vomit, but it made sense; it was the big “why” behind everything you did for the last month.  

“Yeah, sorry, I guess I kinda glossed over that part in my super long-winded explanation,” You said, a sudden shyness hit you and you looked away from him. “I did. I was stupidly in love for a really long time. I finally got over it after we had that conversation, though. But, I still had to fulfill my side of the deal I had with Steve, so I did that in Mexico and when we came back, that was it. Life was back to normal. But I was a fucking idiot and didn’t tell you that me and him were “broken up,” so here we are now.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie said, a soft look on his face. “I’m sorry I didn’t know how you felt. I’m sorry I couldn’t see it.”

“No, please don’t be sorry. This is all on me. I did all of this complicated shit instead of simply talking to you about everything,” You said, leaning back against the counter. “Because you were so right that day, we are just meant to be best friends. That's the way that we’re supposed to be in each other’s lives. I get that now.”  

He got quiet again, probably still processing everything that you had just told him, which you had to admit was a lot. 

“Are we okay?” You asked when the silence started becoming too much to bear. “Did this fuck everything up like I thought it would?” 

Eddie shook his head at your questions. “Of course not. You could never fuck things up between us, and I feel really bad that you ever thought that you could, and I also wish that I had felt the same way about you… I do love you. It’s just…”

The smallest part of you expected to feel hurt finally hearing the rejection, but surprisingly you didn’t. “Just not in that way. I know. It’s okay. Please don’t feel bad. I know that we shouldn’t be together. I’ve accepted that,” You told him. “And I really wanna say that we should just forget this entire conversation ever happened because it would make things a lot easier and I’d also feel a lot less embarrassed if we did, but I don’t think we should do that. This may sound weird, but it actually feels kind of good having the truth out in the open.”

“Okay,” He said with a nod.

You looked back down at his hand and the towel covering it. 

“How’s it feeling?” You asked, slightly shifting the subject. 

“Better, kinda. The ice feels good,” He answered and then let out something that sounded like a breath of a laugh and a scoff in disbelief as he shook his head. “Jesus Christ, I can’t believe I punched him.”

“Me neither. But thank you for defending my honor, I guess?”

He smiled at you; a genuine smile that let you know that things were actually okay between you two. “Anytime.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“So, everything with Steve was fake,” Eddie said when you two were settled on the couch, the movie you had put on earlier still playing. His words sounded slightly like a question, but also like he was still just trying to make sense of everything that you had previously told him.

“Yes, and let’s wait at least a month before we start joking about this. I need to let my poor bruised ego heal first,” You responded, dramatically pressing your hands to your heart, a small smile on your face. 

Eddie laughed a bit. “Deal.” 

And you expected that to be that. Everything was out in the open and everything was fine. You still had to tell everyone else the truth, but you knew that would end up being okay too. And once you did tell everyone, everything could all be put in the past and you could finally move on from it. There wouldn’t be anything lingering or festering; no “what ifs” or whatever else. 

“Can I ask something?” Eddie asked, voice getting soft again, and you nodded in response, unsure where he was going to go with his question. “Was it hard keeping how you felt a secret? I’m trying to think about if the roles were reversed, and I don’t think I would’ve been able to keep it from you.” 

“Honestly, sometimes it was hard, but also not really. And I know that’s kind of a contradictory answer, but it’s true,” You answered, somehow finding it so easy to be honest now. “For the most part, my feelings were shoved to the side and I pretended that they weren’t there. Like, when you were dating Chrissy, because I obviously didn’t wanna get between what you two had, and when you two broke up, because I knew that you weren’t ready for anything new. They still lingered deep down, though. And it was always random moments when I would get reminded that they were still there. But, keeping our friendship intact always felt more important than admitting anything because I love our friendship.”

He nodded understandingly. “I love it too.”

“Okay, this is kind of random, but do you remember that frat party we went to freshman year right before winter break?” You asked, and before he could say anything in response, you continued, forcing yourself to say what you had never said out loud before. “We were both stupidly drunk, and at one point— I think it was right before we were about to leave— you got, like, pushed into me by some random person, and we were standing really close, and then we, uh, kissed.”

The surprised look on his face was entirely expected. “I vaguely remember the party. But, I don’t remember the kiss, though. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. When we talked about the party the day after, you basically said that it was all kind of a blur to you, so that’s what I figured. I wasn't entirely sure if you didn’t remember it, so a part of me had wanted to ask back then, but in that moment I thought it was just easier to let it go.” 

It was almost startling how honest you were being with him right then— saying things that you didn’t think you’d ever admit out loud— and how perfectly okay it all felt. And weirdly enough, this also felt like the most honest you’d ever been with yourself too. 

“Thinking about it now,” You continued. “That probably should’ve been the moment that I let myself get over you. Because I could’ve told you about the kiss right then and there, but I didn’t want whatever your response would be— whether it be a rejection or whatever else— to change anything between us. And it was the same thing when we came back from break, and I was so close to admitting everything to you, but you told me that you and Chrissy were together first. I probably should’ve still told you then. And maybe I never did because deep down I always knew that nothing should change between us. I don’t know… A part of me is still trying to make it all make sense. But then, at the same time, I've been trying to avoid it all and not think about it.” You sighed. “The last couple of weeks have been pretty weird and confusing.”

“Maybe it’s not supposed to easily make sense, or make sense at all. And I know that’s probably a shit response, but…” Eddie trailed off and then shrugged after a moment. 

“No, I get what you mean,” You said, nodding at his words, and then you thought about something. “Honestly, the only thing that has ever really made sense with us is this. Watching movies together, listening to music, talking about unserious things, and also talking about the most serious things ever; stuff I never thought to tell anyone else.” You smiled at him. “Oh, and getting stuck in elevators together too.” 

He smiled back at you before saying, “The elevator thing sadly only happened once.” 

“We can try to recreate it one day.”

“Great idea,” Eddie responded with a nod. “The elevator in that building is still probably shitty.” 

“So true. And if not, we can just start jumping in it and that’ll probably do the job.”

“Or it will kill us.”   

You couldn’t help but laugh at that and Eddie laughed too and then winced as he readjusted the towel on his hand. 

That was what made you finally think about Steve. Was he even okay? 

And then you immediately felt like shit for not considering that question sooner. 

You abruptly got up from the couch and headed into your room before Eddie could question you. You grabbed the Advil bottle from your bathroom and then tossed it over to him when you walked back out into the living room. 

“For the pain. Take two of these and try to go to sleep. You can even take my bed if you wanna,” You told him and then headed to the fridge to grab a bag of frozen vegetables from the freezer. “I'm gonna go check on Steve. And yes, I’m stealing your van.”

Eddie pulled his keys out of his jacket pocket and handed them over to you. There was an amused look on his face. “When’s the last time you drove?”

“Don’t question my driving skills right now, Munson,” You said as you slipped the keys into the pocket of the sweatpants you were wearing and then grabbed the first zip-up hoodie you saw hanging on one of the hooks by the door. “Goodnight.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

It wasn’t until you were standing outside the door of Steve’s apartment that you realized that maybe he wasn’t even here. He’d been on a date, or at least, with someone when Eddie saw him, so there was a chance that he was still with her. 

Still, though, you knocked. And, surprisingly enough, he answered.

His face— more specifically, his left eye— looked bad; very bruised, and already settled into the dark red and purplish color that it would probably be for the next few days. 

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry,” You said, immediately handing over the frozen peas you had in your hand; they obviously weren’t as cold as they were before the twenty-minute drive to get here, but they still felt good enough. “All of this is my fault. It completely slipped my mind to tell Eddie that we “broke up.” I didn’t tell anyone, actually, except for Robin, but that was just today. I’m really sorry. The last few days have been weird.”

Steve gave you a small smile that felt entirely undeserved and he pushed the door open further so that you could walk into his apartment. “It’s okay.” 

You shook your head. “It’s really not. You have a black eye because of me being an idiot.”

“This would be the part where I’d say that you should see the other guy to prove that this isn’t as bad as it looks, but you’ve already seen him, so that doesn’t really work in this situation,” Steve told you jokingly and you shook your head, giving him a small smile back. You still felt like shit, but at least he didn’t seem to hate you for causing all of this. “How did you get here?” 

“I drove Eddie’s van. He came to my place after it happened,” You said and Steve nodded understandingly. “You’re right, though. His hand looks worse than your eye.” You weren’t entirely sure if that was even true— in all honesty, their injuries probably looked about the same on the bad scale— but it felt like the right thing to say at this moment. “I told him everything, by the way. About our whole relationship being fake and me doing it because I had feelings for him.”

Steve looked as if he didn’t expect to hear you say that. ���How did that go?”

“Surprisingly good,” You answered honestly. He gave you an almost congratulatory-looking smile in response and you quickly shook your head. “No, not good in that way. He doesn’t feel that way about me. And I knew that. There was this conversation that I had with him before all of this that kind of solidified that for me. It wasn’t some huge moment where he outwardly said that he didn’t like me, but it gave me the push I needed to finally accept that me and him are only meant to be friends. I don’t even feel any other way about him now.” You let out a sigh before letting out a different part of the truth. “I kinda lied to you in Mexico and the days leading up to it. I knew the truth about everything then, but I felt too embarrassed to tell you and I also just really didn’t want to think about it.”

“Shit, I’m sorry this didn’t work for you,” He sounded so genuine about it and gave you a sad look that reminded you of exactly what you didn’t want to happen. 

You shook your head. “Don’t do that. Please don’t feel sorry for me.” 

“I was the one that kept telling you from the beginning that this was gonna work so now I feel kinda bad that it didn’t.” 

“Okay, yeah, that’s true but it doesn’t matter now,” You told him. “And just because this didn’t work for me doesn’t mean that I regret it— I honestly don’t regret it. It was dumb and a waste of time for me, but still, I don’t really regret it. Also, you got what you wanted out of this, right?”

Steve nodded after a second. “Yeah, I actually talked to my mom yesterday and she asked about you and I told her that we broke up.”

“Did you make me a cheater?” 

“Yeah, and I think she actually feels bad. But, we’ll see in a week or two if she brings up the Hamptons,” He answered. “I kind of doubt that she will, though. I tried to seem really upset about everything.” 

“I wish I could’ve been there for that phone call. I would’ve loved to see your acting skills.”

He smiled at your joking words. “They were fantastic.”

“Good,” You responded. “So, no finding your future wife this summer?” 

“Hopefully not.”  

“Congratulations,” You told him. “And you’re welcome for me being the greatest girlfriend during the Mexico trip.”

“I don’t know if I should thank you since I do have a black eye now because of you.”

You could tell he was joking, but you still decided to play into it. “Wow, so, you are mad at me for that!”

He playfully rolled his eyes at you. “I was kidding.”

“It’s okay to be mad at me. It would be deserved, honestly. And I’d completely understand if you hate me now. You should hate me.”

He gave you a serious look, but there was still the smallest smile on his face. “Stop.” 

You held up your hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I did just give you a bag of sort of frozen peas to help with your eye, so I feel like you can’t be that mad at me, anyway.” 

“And I will cherish this bag of peas for the rest of my life,” He told you as he placed them over his bruised eye and you could only laugh at that. 

A comfortable silence lingered for a second, and it was what let you know that this should probably be it. It had barely been ten minutes, but you’d done everything that you felt as if you needed to do— you checked on him, made sure he was okay, and told him the truth— there was nothing else to do. 

But, instead of saying something equivalent to the simple “Goodbye” that should’ve left your lips right then, you said, “Can I stay for a bit?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Steve answered with a nod.

“You got throw pillows,” You pointed out as you sat on his couch. You grabbed one of the two gray pillows and placed it in your lap. 

“Yeah, somebody once told me that my couch looked sad and lonely,” He said and that made you smile.

“Still no curtains, though,” You responded, gesturing to the windows.

“One day I’ll get around to it.”

You gave him a quick nod. “Got it.” 

Steve put on a show that you both had seen before and things were quiet for a bit as you rewatched the familiar episode. 

“Oh, you were sadly right, by the way,” You abruptly said, turning to look at him. “I finished the book and the son did die.”

“Oh, yeah, I know. When we got back I wanted to find out what happened, so I finished reading it.”

Hearing that surprised you, and it also made you inwardly smile. “Really?”

“Mhm,” Steve nodded and then gave you a certain look. “You cried at the end, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did. I really didn’t think that he would die,” You answered. “And shut up, don’t judge me about it.” 

“I promise I wasn’t gonna.”

“I don’t know if I believe you.” 

“Scouts honor.”

“And now I’m supposed to believe you were a boy scout?” You joked. “You don’t seem outdoorsy enough for that.”

“Ouch, I feel offended.”

You laughed as you turned your attention back to the TV. You noticed that the show playing was the same one that you and him had been watching before the power outage; a night that felt like forever ago. 

This moment felt like the exact opposite of that one. You remembered how weird things initially felt then between you two, or maybe that awkwardness had been entirely in your head. Either way, the main thing that was different here was that in that previous moment, you’d been stuck with him because of the storm and power outage, and in this moment, you weren’t stuck.  

It was then that you were hit with the thought of, What the hell were you doing here right now?

You two weren’t even really friends, you remembered. You reminded yourself of what Steve said that night a few days ago and what you two both agreed on from the beginning— going your separate ways once all of this was done and over. 

Everything that had happened this past month was fake. And even though you’d been able to recognize that, you had still let a part of you miss it; let yourself miss something that you knew you’d never be able to get back. For the past few days, you thought it was okay to let the smallest part of you feel that way— miss the faking and the pretending and the brief friendship that developed because of all of that. But maybe it wasn’t okay. Maybe it was only making things worse and more complicated. 

“Actually, I should go,” You abruptly stood up from the couch, placing the pillow back in the spot you picked it up from. You turned to look at Steve and forced a small smile that you hoped didn’t look that way. “This isn’t following the ‘going our separate ways’  rule.” 

He gave you a confused look for a second, and then he was nodding in agreement. “Yeah, you’re right.” 

“I know I was kinda joking about it before, but I really am sorry about all of this,” You said as you walked over to his door, turning to look at him before pulling it open. 

He shook his head. “Don’t be.” 

You decided against saying anything else right then and instead smiled at him one final time before forcing yourself to leave.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

next part!

taglist (lmk if you want to be added or taken off<333); @eddiernunson , @loulouloueh , @the-aster , @blckburd , @totally-bogus-timelady , @yujyujj , @irhdifartzamfyaa , @mochminnie , @munsonssweets , @blckbrrybasket , @xprloki , @definitionwanderlust , @dwcode , @sun-fiower-seed , @keerysfolklore , @damon-loves-pie , @lodeddiperrodrick , @bisexual-and-intellectual , @munsonburn3r , @negomi123 , @khena , @facexthexsunshine , @seatbacksandtraytables , @suckerfordylansstuff

(if your user is crossed out it means i can’t tag you</3)

[poppadom0912]

Is it too late?

Warnings: Mentions of periods, hospitals, surgery, pain and illness

Summary: When your older brother is a fancy surgeon, being sick is the last thing you want.  

Requested by @1chicago5021

A/N: I'm still alive people. I had a sudden burst of inspiration and thought I'd finally get all these requests done before the next round of exams. I am in a lesson right now so I can’t do the usual aesthetic collage I always do. This was sent quite a while ago but I actually had so much fun writing this so thank you! I hope this lives up to your standards <3

*****

Two weeks ago now, your body randomly started not working the way you wanted it to, but you put all the blame on your period whose cramps hadn't been very forthcoming.

The painkillers were a coming in at a constant stream, hot water bottles never having the chance to go room temperature.

Your never-ending migraines and 24/7 cramps were a constant, so you expected to feel relief once you were back to normal. But that never came because this week started and somehow, you felt even worse.

When you woke up this morning to your throat feeling weird, you knew something was wrong when you drank water and the feeling didn’t go away.  

Despite that, you went to school anyways, bidding your brother goodbye when he dropped you off, completely unaware of your wellbeing. But you couldn’t blame the guy, he was stressed enough over work as it is, you didn’t need to add to his already overflowing workload.  

You only felt worse as the day progressed. It was only spring, nearing summer, but your body temperature wouldn’t stop fluctuating. One minute you were shivering and asking to borrow your friend's hoodie but the next you were sweating like you had just finished a marathon and was trying to get rid of as many layers as possible.  

The cramps were immense. The worst you ever had and to consider you just got off your period, you weren’t a stranger to post period cramps, but this was on another level. You hadn’t been in this much pain ever even while on your reds. None of the pain killers your friends kindly provided for you alleviated the pain. Death would feel ever so sweet right about now.  

You knew you were seriously sick when you were on the verge of collapsing at lunch. Your friends all shouted in alarm when you faltered on your feet in the cafeteria. You ignored their efforts and attempts to get you to the nurse's office. There wasn’t long left of the school day, there wasn’t any point in leaving with barely two hours left.  

As soon as you got home, you fell face first into bed. As soon as your head hit the pillow and you pulled the covers over your body with however much strength remained in your arms that got heavier as the day went on.  

You were in a deep sleep, so deep in fact that your dreams were non-existent. You weren’t too sure what time it was, but you felt someone shaking you, going from gentle to a hand tightly holding your shoulder, a muffled voice inaudible as you came in and out of your slumber.  

Their gestures were painful, but you didn’t have it in you to tell the intruder as you struggled to even muster a groan. Your eyes fluttered, face digging even deeper into the pillow as if to suffocate yourself. That was all the indication the person needed to shake you harder, adamant to wake you up.  

With a blocked nose, breathing out through your mouth proved itself to be a much more difficult task than it should’ve been. And stuffing your face into your pillow might not have been the best idea taking that into consideration.

Their voice sounded way too far away, as though they weren’t in the room with you. One second they were roughly holding you, the next, all pressure ceased but the pain didn’t.

Before you could even register what they were doing now, your eyes heavy with sleep dropped once more as you were enveloped into darkness again.

*****

Over the past two weeks, Connor had noticed your depleting energy but when the mood swings came along with your hot water bottles, he didn’t think any much more of the matter.

But then you showed no signs of improvements and at first, he could hardly notice. You hid it quite well at first but as the week progressed, it was apparent to him you were getting sick, and you were too stubborn to admit that to your surgeon brother.

Nonetheless, things didn’t look too bad that staying home was necessary. You were managing quite well, going to school the entire week without complaints, so he found no reason to intervene into something he knew would end up in an argument that would result in you holding a grudge and not talking to him for a few days.

He dropped you off and drove to work expecting nothing. You smiled at him when you left the car, and nothing seemed physically wrong when you picked up the pace to meet your friends.

His twelve-hour shift seemed to never end. When he had a moment to himself, he messaged you as he waited for his coffee, staring at his message that sat alone with no replies for hours. School has finished, you were sure to be home now, so why weren’t you answering?

He didn’t think much of it till he was meant to go home at twelve. He was all ready standing at his locker but then Maggie called his name and he saw several ambulances piling up outside.

As amazing as he was, his attention couldn’t be in two places at once and unfortunately for you, car crashes had more significance in this situation. But as soon as this was all over, you’d be his number one priority once more.

It was all over six hours later when he came out of the second surgery he had to take lead in.

Stepping out of the surgery theatre, he thanked all his co-workers and was dashing away to collect his things, not wanting to be here any longer. Having time to finally check his phone again, his concern skyrocketed when you still hadn’t replied to his messages.

Waving off the few staff remaining in the emergency department, Connor wasted no time in driving off. His adrenaline had yet to die down from the rush of a packed-out emergency room and doing several successful surgeries. Adding to this was his building concern for you. Maybe you were just sleeping, and your phone was on charge. Maybe it was on silent, and you didn’t hear anything. Maybe it was stolen, and you couldn’t contact him-

Connor sighed as he parked the car. Wasting no time, his body still thrumming from the surgery high, he walked into the building and took the stairs instead, taking large strides as he skipped every two.

The house was drop dead silent when he opened the door which you hadn’t locked from the inside like you usually would. That and the completely pitch-black apartment was the first things that put him on edge.

He locked the door behind him, walking in further and inspecting the living room and kitchen that didn’t look lived in. Everything was in its same place as he left it in this morning. Closing the blinds in the living room, he walked towards your bedroom, your door slightly ajar which had never been the case since you started living with him. You always shouted at him whenever he left the door even a slither open, you always needed complete darkness to sleep. The tiniest bit of light always hindering your sleeping ability.

Pushing the door open, Connor poked his head inside first to survey the room. He finally let himself relax at the sight of you lying in bed, your figure completely drowning in your duvet. The weird lump in your sheets being the only reason he could identify you.

He felt himself relax, his body physically deflating now that he had eyes on you, knowing for sure that nothing was wrong.

For some reason, your curtains were still open which they never were since you were young, always complaining, once again, that you needed complete darkness to be able to sleep. Closing your curtains, he found your phone on your bedside desk, and it was littered with notifications from not only him but all of your friends too. All of them were asking in variations if you were okay, if you felt better, did you get home safe and how you were feeling.

They were all sent at three in the afternoon. It was now two in the morning.

Concerned at the topic of the messages, Connor came over to the side of the bed you were laying on and placed his hand on your forehead, his eyes widening immediately. He felt himself warming up just from how hot you were.

Sitting down on the space by your knees, Connor shook you gently, trying to rouse you from your apparent very deep sleep but the only movement you made was from what he was doing.

“Y/N? Hey, wake up. Can you get up for me really quick?”

The adrenaline that was just dying down was picking up again along with his heart rate, why weren’t you waking up?

He shook you once again but this time, he was more rough, his worry meaning he gripped your shoulder tightly and shook you with a force that he’d never use on you before as his baby sister.

This time he tried calling you name while he tried getting you up. Lifting the duvet off your body, not only were you shivering but you were sweating a very unusual amount.

Swallowing harshly, Connor tried one more time, calling your name and roughly shaking you. “Come one, I need to you wake up Y/N.”

“Y/N. Y/N get up.”

But you just wouldn’t budge.

Deciding that enough was enough, he scooped you into his arms and it must’ve been the sudden movement that caused you to let out a small whimper in what was clearly pain. It was small but it was the most he’d gotten from you since he got home and that was better than nothing.

Foregoing his jacket, Connor made sure to slip your cardigan over your torso, so you weren’t going to die from the cold outside. He quickly slipped into his own shoes and left the building not a moment later.

*****

No one had been expecting Connor to be back at work so soon, not even him. It was a few minutes to three and the ED was relatively calm taking into account the big accident not too long ago, but Connor was grateful.

Getting out the car, Connor looked into the ED and called for the first person he saw.

“April! Get me a gurney!”

Said nurse was caught completely off guard, jumping from where she stood at the nurse's desk with Will not too standing behind her. He too clearly was confused but Connor had no time to dwell on them.

Not checking if she was listening, Connor rounded the car and picked you back into his arms, your head resting on his bicep and your legs on the inside of his elbow. Slamming the door shut, Connor strode into the emergency department and luckily for him, April and Will were more than ready to help.

“All the gurneys are used up from before, but we’ve got a free bed.” April said, leading the surgeon into an empty treatment room where Will was lowering the bedside rails.

“Talk to me Connor.” Will said, understanding there was no time for formalities when he saw it was you Connor was carrying.

“No clue what happened but she’s as hot as anything, she’s shivering and sweating at the same time and will not wake up for anything.” Connor started, gently laying you down and standing back to let Will and April do their jobs. He was itching to help but physically had to move further away from you so that he wouldn’t do anything stupid.

“Pretty sure she’s been sick and in pain for a while now, but she never said anything.” He continued, looking at all the numbers on the machines that were popping up as they were connected to your body. “When I asked last week, she just kept saying it was her period cramps.”

As April hooked you up onto an IV drip, Will started palpating your body in search for any particular place of pain. And when he came to a particular area in your lower abdomen and you cried out, the three of them looked at each other knowingly.

“Kieran should still be on shift.” Connor said, remembering the surgeon he left behind that was in charge and available.

Will nodded in confirmation, “Let’s move.”

*****

Waking up felt different to all the times before. Your levels of disorientation and haziness and confusion were on another level.

As soon as you opened your eyes, the first thing you noticed was the lack of pain. You couldn’t feel not even a pinch in your stomach, maybe it was weird to say but it felt liberating to not be in debilitating pain.

“Oh, thank goodness your awake.” Connor looked dead on his feet in the doorway of the room but the immense relief painting his face was like no other.

You made him feel and look like that- Shit, what happened, what did you do?

Before you could say anything, Connor beat you to it. “How are you feeling? In any pain?”

As he questioned you, a poured you a cup of water, holding it so all you had to do was drink and not need to exert energy that he knew from experience, you didn’t have.

Once again, before you could ask, he answered for you. “It was appendicitis. Your period cramps were in fact your appendix and last night it burst.”

“But it’s all good. We got you into surgery and your appendix is gone as should your pain.”

“Wow.” You said shakily, your voice so quiet from the lack of use.

“Please don’t do that next time.” Connor said, sitting on the empty seat by the bed, taking your hand into his. “Please tell me when you're in pain and when you feel sick. You matter to me; all your small or big problems are mine too. I don’t care how trivial they are.”

Silence followed as he set the glass aside. “You scared the shit out of me kiddo.”

And to say you felt guilty was an understatement.

“Claire’s pissed.” You both winced at the thought of your sister finding out. “She’s going to visit when she’s finished with work. I told her your healthy and out of surgery but she’s still pissed.”

“M’Sorry.” You apologised, voice hoarse and lips chapped. “I didn’t want-“

“Y/N.” Connors face made it look like he was in pain from your admission he cut off. “You’re never a bother to me okay? Me being a doctor is a good thing, use it to your advantage.”

You nodded, confirming to change next time if there was another time. Fingers crossed there isn’t.

“How hard was it to not do the surgery?” You smiled, squeezing his hand and poking his bicep. He was still in his scrubs from his shift last night.

Connor rolled his eyes and groaned. Such a sight made you laugh.

[stararch4ngelqueen]

heyyyyy sliding back in here lol

what about soft!jason who just knows when reader needs a hug? like not specific mental health issues but jason just notices a drained reader and decides to clear his aft to take care of his girl??

(this may or may not be completely self-indulgent...)

sending love <333

Heeeeelp not me relating too much to this for the rest of the weeeeekk 💀✨

A lot of scenarios came to mind but this was the most easiest to me

—

What’s an obvious talent with nearly every member of the so called “Batfamily,” was the detective skills. The ability to observe and take in details, noticing the slightest shift in demeanor. Just harnessing the unique gift until it’s second nature was a gift in itself.

Jason wasn’t one to flaunt those abilities of his, but right now, he feels his mind working overdrive trying to figure you out.

As in, figure out your slumped body taking up most of the couch after you collapse on it. Your face hidden away behind the comforter, hiding from the harsh society of the daily grind that always found a way to bug the hell out of you after you believe you’re finally starting to get the hang of it.

“Can I have some couch time, too?” Came Jason’s soft question, gently prodding what he assumed was your shoulder. Your shuffling body grants him permission to settle along the slim space beside you, leaving you undisturbed in your sensory deprivation cocoon.

“Bad day at work, Huh?”

“Mhm.” Came a bland little muffle.

“Want me to make some calls?” Jason offers in an ever so snarky tone. “Take care of some business?”

“Please.” You murmur, taking him by surprise.

By that, he always references using violence just to get a rise outta you, knowing you’d usually click your tongue, roll your eyes, or smack him on the shoulder for his idiocy. This time, you agreed to it, maybe even consider mentally encouraging it.

This wasn’t the first time you agreed, but whenever you did was usually on ‘not so good’ days. Today looked like a ‘not so good’ day.

“Aww, babygirl.” Jason’s arms reinforce around your body, cradling you to himself like a treasured doll.

“Show me what’s underneath this blanket city you got goin’ on.” Jason pinched the fabric with two fingers, giving gentle tugs. “Show me that gorgeous face, pretty girl.”

Your reluctance was to be expected, but you give in. Your flushed face is greeted with crisp air before Jason comes to view, smiling softly with all his handsome beauty.

“There’s my girl,” he whispers, brushing some stray hair tussled by the blanket off to the side.

“Got some soda earlier. Want an ice cream float to feel better?” He asks, watching your head shift as you gesture a no. So distressed, you’d turn away a childhood tradition? Ouch.

“Hmm,” Jason tilts his head back in thought, clicking his tongue. “Need me to kill your boss?”

You nod yes, per his amusement.

“Agh, damn. You should’ve asked me that about a year ago, babe. Fresh outta the ‘soul refund pool’ me woulda’ done so in a heartbeat.”

You groan, hiding your face further in the valley of his neck while his hands rub circles along different points of your back. “S’okay sweetheart. I know what it’s like to wanna kill your boss, but you’re not at work right now.”

He easily shuffles you around as he spoke, hoisting you into his lap in a seated position.

“You’re home with me, safe an’ sound,” he continues as he pulls off your shoes, running his hands along your lower legs to soothe the muscles. “An’ I’m here. Real world isn’t gonna getcha in here.”

Jason’s lips on your forehead settles the sting of bitterness you’ve carried in your chest for hours. He knew just what to say, how to act, and held enough patience for the both of you combined.

You adored him. Your giant red teddy bear.

“Wanna do something fun, babe? Wanna watch an old horror movie?”

The silliest of habits you had with Jason was judging the movies you used to find scary back in the day. While some lived up to their name on the gore filled horror scare, the SFX and editing left something to nearly choke on popcorn over.

After that, it was good habit to end movie night on a comedy. The early Y2K movie parodies seemed to always hit the spot. 

You nod yes to this, craving that relief now more than ever.

“Bet that ice cream is starting to sound good now, huh?” Jason muses, his smirk growing as your head shuffles a yes again.

Thought so.

[shy-taylorsversion]

Want You Back | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Inspired by Want You Back by Maisie Peters

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: Over a year ago, Y/n started hunting with the boys. Her and Dean's friendship became more than anything she ever had before. Then he hurt her like never before. The worst part was she didn't really care.

Takes place somewhere in season 6 after Sam got his soul back. Flashbacks are during season five.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Cursing (minimal), canon-level violence, few innuendos, and mentions of things. Reader is kinda sad and desperate. Angst. no happy ending :(

A/N: Hi!! After a year of trying to write a complete fic to post, I finally did it. Please excuse any grammar or spelling errors, I relied on Grammarly lol Also I had no idea how to write the action scenes but tried my best. I really don't know if this is worth much but I had so much fun writing sooo I hope you enjoy it!! (gif not mine)

March 2010

  Y/n’s phone buzzed, drawing her attention from the hunter drunkenly blabbering in her ear. They’d just wrapped up a quick hunt, a werewolf somewhere in northern Montana. She didn’t even really know the guy but Bobby had given him her number to ask for help. She agreed, not really having anything more to do. He was fine for a hunter, other than he never shut up and was getting too handsy for her liking, and him being on his fifth drink wasn’t helping. 

She opened the message, not recognizing the number. Bobby had to stop handing it out to whoever.  

           “Hey, Sweetheart. Whatcha up to?”  

The phone fell into her lap. There was only one person she ever let get away with calling her that, or anything really, and he didn’t come around often. 

           “Depends, who is this?”  

    The response was almost immediate. 

          “Don’t do me like that, Y/n”

 She could almost see his stupid grin on the screen and had to look away to control the heat rising in her face. Within five seconds and two texts, Dean Winchester had turned her into a giggling schoolgirl with a crush. 

          “I’m at a bar, what do you want?” 

         “Ah, a girl after my own heart. Which one? I wanna see you.” 

In any other universe, she would have assumed he had ulterior motives. She had the first few times she’d received that text but ended up spending the night hiding her disappointment. He only wanted to see her. He’d meet with her wherever she was. A bar, a motel, a diner.   

They’d spend hours talking about everything. She’d tell him stories of her recent hunts and the hunters she was stuck helping. He’d tell her of whatever they’d been facing. On rare occasions, when it was super late and they were sprawled on her bed, in a half-drunken stupor, he’d tell her about Sam or their dad. He’d mention their childhood and what he was put through. One night, he even mentioned a girl named Cassie, he skirted around details but Y/n understood. 

   They’d fall asleep like that, on top of the covers of a dirty motel bed. The next morning, he’d take her to breakfast, hug her goodbye, and then he was gone. 

     Her phone buzzed in her hand again. 

       “I miss you.” 

Her blood ran cold as she stared at the screen. He’d definitely never said that before. They just never went there and maybe this wasn’t him going there but it was different. Without another thought, she sent him the address. 

Present, April 2011

  “What Dean did wasn’t ok, you know that right?” Sam said through the phone. “He never should’ve left like that. We just really could use your and Bobby’s help on this case.” 

  Y/n sighed in response. What could she even say? That she knew, that she understood. That it still didn’t matter because even through all of the anger and hurt, she’d take him back tomorrow. 

  Not that he’d ever actually been hers. It was only half a spring, barely two months. 

It didn’t matter either way. There was a job to be done and she had to do it. She could put her feelings aside for a few days. 

 “He always left like that, not like I’m surprised.”  

   “Look, I’ve gotta go but please, Y/n, call us if you need anything. We’ll be there soon.“ 

 “Bye, Sam.” 

  The call ended, leaving Y/n leaning against the railing of Bobby’s porch. The early spring wind whipped around her and she hugged her flannel closer, looking out onto the empty road. 

   It had been over a year since she’d seen either of them. She knew of everything that happened to them. Sam going to hell and coming back without a soul. Dean, living a normal life for over a year with a woman and her kid. 

 Y/n didn’t know her, only hearing about the situation from Sam and Bobby in passing. She knew her name was Lisa and that Dean cared for her. Maybe more. She knew that Dean had promised Sam to live a normal life after he jumped into the cage. And she was happy that he got a year of peace. She was. 

   She could picture him helping in the kitchen, wearing an apron with flour smeared across his face. He’d probably set up family movie nights and weekend outings and birthday dinners. He’d been happy and okay. Against all odds, he had gotten out. 

    That didn’t stop the wave of hurt that washed over at the thought of him, all domestic and soft.  

 The click of the door opening pulled her out of her thoughts. Bobby stood there, a knowing look on his face.  

     “C’mon kid, let’s see if we can figure out something before those boys get here.” 

A few hours later, Y/n stared at the book in her lap. She’d been rereading the same paragraph for thirty minutes. Every time she’d get drawn into the book, the house would creak or the wind would blow and she’d be snapped out of it. 

   She kept waiting for the door to open, for footsteps to trail down the foyer and into the living room. She couldn’t even begin to prepare for what the next few days were going to be like. Her only plan was to act as normal as possible, which was already proving to be difficult. 

  A pit formed in her stomach, there was a lump in her throat and her head was clouded. The whole room was hazy and it felt like she was watching herself exist.

    She didn’t even realize she was crying until something wet hit her hands and slid onto her jeans. She quickly wiped her eyes and tried to focus on the book again. The lines blurred together as more tears filled her eyes.  

    God, she was sitting here crying over some guy. She was a grown woman, she had to get over this. It was pathetic at this point. 

   “You know, what Dean did was wrong. Leaving like that, not telling you what happening.” Bobby said, walking into the room, a stack of books in his hands. “I love the kid but he’s a real dick sometimes.”

       He meant well but she swore if one more person said that Dean had done bad, she was going to go crazy. 

    She knew that. More than anyone, she knew. She was the one who spent months hunting with him, helping him and Sam figure out how to save the damn world. They’d spent nights wrapped up in each other, more than ever before. Farther than before.  

  She was the one who woke up to an empty bed with no trace of him anywhere. He never responded to a call or a text. Never even let her know he was alive. 

  He’d left like an assassin. 

   Part of her couldn’t even blame him. It probably had been for the best because if he’d told her what the plan had been, she’d have begged. 

     In the end, he’d got to be a coward and she salvaged some amount of self-respect. 

 “I know, Bobby.” She said, giving him a small smile, “I know.” 

The door creaked causing Y/n to jump, earning her a concerned look from Bobby. 

  She smiled at him again, trying to reassure him. She could tell he’d been worried about her lately. He was justified in it. She’d been on edge and closed off for the last year and a half. 

   She took a deep breath and steadied herself. She’d known these boys for the better part of her life, it wasn’t a big deal. 

     Sam rounded the corner first, entering with a slight grin. His eyes immediately found hers and without warning he pulled her off the couch and into his arms. 

   Y/n let out a surprised laugh as her feet dangled off the ground and the life was squeezed out of her.  

   “I missed you too, Sam.” She said, unable to hold back more laughter, “Put me down now.” 

   Her feet hit the floor and Sam stepped back. She looked him over, still smiling. 

     “I’m so glad you’re back.” 

   “Yeah, me too.” 

A set of footsteps grew louder causing Y/n to look up, only for her to meet two green eyes. 

  The breath was knocked out of her and she was all too aware of the pit in her stomach again. 

Ignoring the pairs of eyes on her, She spun on her heel to face Bobby.   

    “Let’s get started?” 

March 2010 

“I call shotgun!” Y/n yelled as they walked out of the diner and took off towards the Impala.

   She was probably being unfair. She’d barely shared the passenger side in the few weeks she’d been with the boys. Sam was getting huffy about it, she could tell but she enjoyed the view more from the front.  Sitting in the back she’d miss the way Dean’s hands looked gripping the steering wheel, the way his lips moved as he mouthed the lyrics to whatever was on the radio, or the way his eyes would flicker to hers for just a split second. 

 Dean had also finally let her DJ and she didn’t plan on giving that rare privilege away anytime soon.

   “C'mon, dude. It's my turn.” Sam whined, “My legs are starting to cramp.” 

Sam beat her to the car which wasn’t surprising since he was literally the size of one. She was close to giving in when an arm landed on her shoulder. Dean nudged Sam out of the way, ignoring his protests, and opened the door. 

     “Sorry, Sammy.”  Dean’s eyes never left hers as she slid into the seat, “Need my Darlin’ by my side.” 

Present, April 2011

   Cracked wooden planks creaked under Y/n’s feet as she followed the boys and Bobby into the abandoned house. It was pitch black. She blinked her eyes, trying to adapt to the lack of lighting.  

According to Sam, a nest of vamps had been holed up there for weeks. They’d started leaving a trail of bodies, teens who’d come through as a dare or curiosity. She didn’t know the exact numbers racked up in that time but it was enough for Sam and Dean to ask for help. 

   Dean motioned for them to split up, two taking the downstairs and two going up. She went to follow behind Sam who had taken off into the next room but Bobby beat her to it. She would’ve fought back but it wasn’t exactly like she could cause a scene right then. 

   She followed Dean up the stairs, cringing every time the stairs groaned underneath their feet. 

Dean slowed as he hit the final step before a long, dark hallway. Y/n was a step behind him. His body nearly covered her. She shifted to the side to peer around him. 

  Both raised their machetes, trying to keep their breathing quiet as they waited for any sign of movement.

    A crash came from down the hall. Dean started towards the sound, Y/n following close behind. The complete darkness put them on edge. Being minus one sense in a house of at least ten fanged bastards, not fun. 

      The floorboard creaked behind her causing her to flip around, just in time to dodge the first vampire of the night. 

       She swung her machete, hitting its arm. Distracted, she brought down the weapon. Its head hit the floor. 

        Dean yelled out from behind her. She flung herself around to hear him fighting off, what she guessed was three on his own. Her presence seemed to catch the attention of one of them because it charged at her. 

   She dodged, the vamp lunged again grabbing her by the arm. She twisted out of its grasp. Using the angle to her advantage, she swiped her leg around, knocking it off balance. Its head rolled away as its body hit the ground. 

     She wiped the sweat from her forehead and turned to try to find Dean. She still couldn’t see him but she could hear him panting a few feet away.

She was yanked forward. Hands gripped her forearms tight enough to leave bruises and slammed into the wall. Her head buzzed on impact and she forced herself to stay upright. Its fangs grazed her neck and then its head dropped to the floor. 

   Dean stood in front of her, so close she could feel him breathing, rather than hearing it. Without thinking, she reached out to him and landed on his arm. She went to pull away but his other hand grasped her wrist, holding her in place. 

“Thanks.” She breathed, “You good?” 

“Yeah, You?” 

She wished she could see him, make sure he was being truthful. He didn’t exactly have the best track record with honesty. But in the dark, she had no choice but to trust him. 

    “I’m fine.” There were definitely bruises forming in her arms and her head was still spinning but she’d had worse.  

   Dean’s hand dropped her wrist. She ignored the deflated feeling in her chest and dropped her arm back to her side. 

  Without warning, he ran his hands over her arms and up her shoulders. She tried to pull away but he didn’t stop. 

    “What are you doing?” She whisper-yelled. 

“I literally heard you hit the wall, Y/n,” He said, running his hands over her head, checking for any bumps. 

“I am fine.”  She tried to swat him away but he grabbed her wrists mid-air and pulled them to his chest.  

    The air was humid around them. She heard him panting. Leather and sweat invaded her senses. Any focus she had before vanished. 

He was here, touching her, after so long. 

  Silence enveloped them. The only noise was their panting. 

 This was wrong. Sam and Bobby were probably fighting for their life downstairs and here they were, doing whatever this was.

  She was about to pull away when a loud yell came from downstairs. 

   The moment was broken. They took off down the hallway and stairs. Staying close to not get lost in the dark. 

  They hit the last few steps as a vampire, charged at them. 

 Dean swung his machete and it fell to the floor.  

 They moved further into the first floor of the home, finding Sam and Bobby fighting off at least four vamps each.  

   They split up, him going to Bobby and her going to Sam.  

     None of the vampires were aware of her yet. She grabbed the syringe of deadman’s blood out of her pocket and plunged the needle into the closet to her. 

  Now they knew she was there.

 Two turned towards her giving Sam time to take down his remaining one. 

   Both charged at her, hissing. She ran in between them.She flipped around, slicing the blade in an arc. The one on her left doubled over at the impact. 

    She swung. 

The right one lunged at her. She pivoted and cut the blade up. 

Its head hit the floor. 

She looked around the room, a slight beam of moonlight flooded the house now. She made out Sam helping Bobby up from the floor, right as Dean took down the last vampire. 

   The room was silent other than everyone trying to catch their breath.  

Dean’s eyes found hers. She forced herself to look away. Sam interrupted the non-moment. 

“Time for drinks?” 

Y/n and the boys decided to go out. They were leaving soon but everyone needed time to wash off and get ready. 

   She dragged the black liner across her eyelid, double-checking to see if it smeared the shimmery brown eyeshadow she’d already put on. The cracks in the old mirror made it kind of hard to perfect the make-up but it would have to do.  She already changed from her bloodied hunting clothes into a clean pair of jeans with a simple tank top. She didn’t own much and traveled with less. 

“Broke mirrors are bad luck, ya know?”  

  Dean leaned against the doorframe, flannel pulled taut around his crossed arms. 

She ignored the pit that had reappeared in her stomach and continued applying her lipstick. She flipped through ideas for a response. She could yell at him to get out or cry about how much he hurt her. Instead, she opted to act like nothing was wrong. 

   “I’m pretty sure you’re the one who broke it.”  She said, shoveling her makeup back into the bag, still never meeting his eye. She stood and gathered the rest of her stuff into a neat pile on her bed. Her back was completely towards him. 

    She heard him walk into the room and the door clicked shut. 

“Y/n, look at me.”  

She turned around and looked up at him. Her eyebrows raised like he was boring her. In reality, she was struggling to breathe. Her hands shook and a lump was stuck in her throat.  

 Her eyes glanced over his face. His jaw was set but eyes were soft.  She knew where this was going. 

  Dean took a deep breath before starting.  

“Look, what I did-” 

“Do not finish that sentence, Dean Winchester.” She spat. 

“I just-”

“No. You don’t get to say anything. You don’t get to say that what you did was wrong or how sorry you are. You don’t think I don’t know that what you did was wrong? Everyone keeps telling me that. Bobby, Sam and now you. They kept telling me how horrible of you that was like it wasn’t me. Like I wasn’t the one who spent months with you, like I didn't help you figure out how to stop the fucking apocalypse. Like I didn’t stitch you up after every hunt or spend every car ride next to you. Like I wasn’t the one who would hold you after you woke up screaming or it wasn’t me who spent every single night in your fucking sheets.” 

 Every ounce of refrain she’d worked to keep was gone. Hot tears were streaming down her face as her eyes bored into his. He didn’t try to interrupt her but his jaw twitched and body tensed. 

  “Like it wasn’t me who woke up two months later to an empty bed. You were gone, Dean. You left without a word. No text, no note. Nothing. You fucking left me. And then I found out you were with some other girl for a year? So yeah, I know that what you did was bad.” 

Somewhere in her speech, she’d moved close enough for their chest to touch. Her finger was stabbing into his chest.  He didn’t move, was barely breathing but she wasn’t finished. 

   “Maybe it was cheap to you, or maybe it was some fling to pass the time but it was real to me. It was all I had. You were all I had.” Her voice broke at the last word and she dropped her hand. Her head fell as she cried. Over a year of built-up heartbreak exploding in one moment was too much. 

     His hand found hers and placed it back on his chest. She looked back up at him, his other hand reaching out to cup her cheek. She closed her eyes as his thumb wiped away the remaining tears. 

    “Do you want to know what the worst part is?” She whispered, eyes still shut. “I’d be yours again if you wanted. If you asked. How pathetic is that?” 

      “Y/n.” 

She opened her eyes to look at him despite her embarrassment.  

  “You are anything but cheap or pathetic.” His voice was thick and his eyes were glassy. She’d seen him in so many different states but she’d never seen so much emotion written across his face. 

   “Ask me then. Ask me to come with you.” 

His expression darkened and he dropped his hand from her face. He took a step back and looked away. 

   “It’s not that easy.” He said, shaking his head. “It's never that easy.” 

She let out a bitter laugh. 

 She wasn’t even surprised. She should’ve been disappointed or furious but she was just over it. She was tired and desperate. And if she couldn’t have him, he needed to go. 

  She wiped a hand down her face and glanced back into the mirror assessing the damage her outburst caused. She started wiping off the messed-up liner before starting to reapply. Dean stood behind her, brows furrowed in confusion. 

    “Get out.” She said without hesitation, her voice as steady as possible.  

He opened his mouth as if to speak but shut it. He walked towards the door but stopped with his hand on the doorknob. 

   “For what it's worth, I am sorry.” 

The buzz of conversation filled the packed-out bar. Sam found them a small booth in the corner and was now talking about a new piece of lore he’d found about some Egyptian god. Most of the time, she loved hearing what he had to say but right now all she could focus on was Dean's hand trailing up and down the woman’s hip. He never even sat down with them, finding himself a spot at the bar, next to a pretty blonde. She’d watched for half an hour now as he grinned at the girl, whispered in her ear, and bought her a drink. 

  She wanted to puke or cry or both. She decided to get drunk instead. 

She went to take a sip of her beer only to realize it was empty. Motioning to Sam she was going to get another, she slid out of the booth and made her way to the opposite side of the bar from Dean. 

   She planned to order a shot of some vodka and another beer but she couldn’t catch the attention of either bartender.

  A body bumped up against hers causing her to stumble. A hand wrapped around her waist to catch her. She almost jerked away but she looked up to find a familiarly unfamiliar pair of dark green eyes and dark blonde hair.  

   The man was by far the prettiest she’d seen all night. 

 “I am so sorry, It's packed in here. Isn’t it?  Nowhere to stand.” He had a slight southern drawl and a boyish charm about him. 

 “It is. Can’t seem to even order a drink.”  She smiled at him.

 “You see, now that had to be fate or something because I was just wantin’ to buy you one.” He grinned and waited, almost seeing if she’d allow it. His hand was still on her but she found she didn’t really mind. 

 The room was fuzzy and she could only make out the man in front of her. Even then, he was a little hazy and she had no idea what he was saying, only that his mouth looked pretty as he said it.    

  Y/n didn’t know how long it’d been since the handsome stranger volunteered to feed into her night of drunkenness or even how many she’d had so far. She vaguely remembered him buying her the first shot and then the second and maybe a third. They made small talk, she gave some bullshit story about what she did for work and where she was from. Somewhere in between she had a fourth, fifth, and sixth one. 

 And somewhere between the seventh and now, she’d lost track of Dean. She didn’t even know if he was still there. She did know that the new guy made her feel ok, at least for now. His hands never left her and the drinks never seemed to end.

  She could barely remember the events of the day. Maybe by tomorrow, she wouldn’t remember any of it, or at least a girl could hope.

But right now, she didn’t feel like crying or throwing up as long as she didn’t think of it. 

   She decided in her drunken haze that maybe this was what she needed. So when the stranger asked her if she wanted to leave, she agreed. And when he leaned down to kiss her, she let him.

[navybrat817]

How Far Down

Pairing: Mickey Henry x Female Reader Summary: Mickey is bad for you, but you just can't stay away. Word Count: Over 2.1k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, semi-public fingering, implied public sex, unhealthy relationship, codependency, bittersweet, spooky vibes, Mickey Henry (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Fic #3 for Navy's Trick or Treat Nonsense! @tavners , thank you for suggesting Mickey and semi-public sex! I hope I did it justice. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics and Mickey edit by @rainbowkisses31 . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Mickey was like a drug to you. His touch sent dopamine through your body, the pleasurable sensation bringing you to new heights again and again. You needed more of him to satisfy your craving. He delivered every single time.

But being addicted to a man as free spirited as him was like trying to catch the wind in your hand. He slipped through your fingers quicker than sand. When the inevitable comedown happened, it left you disappointed with the harsh reality that he would never truly be yours. So you walked away.

Until he called you back to him.

"It's the Halloween bash. C'mon. We'll have fun."

You should’ve had the strength to ignore him or say “no”, but you were helpless to resist his call. You asked for the address when you messaged him back and hoped you didn’t sound too eager. One night wouldn’t hurt. You’d only stay long enough to make an appearance and you’d be on your way. Besides, it was a party and Mickey had a job to do.

He wouldn’t notice if you left early.

“Better not bail on me or you’ll hurt my feelings. And I’ll hunt you down.”

You wouldn’t dream of bailing on him. The thought of hurting his feelings produced a pain in your chest so great that you thought your heart would give out. That was one of the things that scared you about Mickey. You gave so much of yourself away and did you get enough in return?

It would be fun if he hunted me down.

The day leading up to the party was a blur, your stomach twisted in knots as you got ready. You had no reason to be nervous. It was a night of fun to be had and nothing more. As long as you didn’t let Mickey suck you back in, you’d be fine.

There was a line out the door of the club as you arrived and you wondered just how long people were waiting to get in. Mickey instructed you to give your name to the bouncer, which you did. For a second, you didn’t expect your name to be on the list. He could’ve done it as a prank to get back at you for walking away. It was a silly thought. He was many things, but he wasn’t cruel.

Still, you let out a sigh of relief as the bouncer let you go right in. If that wouldn’t have worked, you would’ve tried to flirt with him. Your slutty angel costume left little to the imagination, which was both sexy and ironic. You never felt angelic or innocent around Mickey, but it was fun to be in his presence.

The halo fell from my head a long time ago.

Orange and purple strobe lights flashed in time with the music, giving the club a perfect Halloween glow as the bodies moved along the dance floor. The array of costumes brought a smile to your face. Everyone was having fun, uncaring of what happened tonight. Problems would still be there tomorrow, so why not let loose?

“There you are.”

You heard Mickey over the music and blinked a few times, not remembering walking through the crowd to get to his booth. Your throat constricted as the two of you locked eyes. While you were some form of an angel, he had demon horns and an open red shirt. The light around him accentuated his muscles and gave him an ominous glow as he walked around the table, grinning as held out a hand for you.

It only took you a second to take it.

“Knew you couldn’t resist my invitation,” he said, jumping down to join you on the floor instead of pulling you up to the booth. “Though a small part of me wants to punish you for staying away for so long. Why did you run away from me?”

Part of the charm of Mickey was that he didn’t come across as arrogant. Playful, the life of the party, and someone who encouraged you to make the best out of bad situations, but never full of himself. You admired that. He was also unreliable, too spontaneous. A distorted dream of a man that you could never have.

“You know why I left,” you reminded him, putting your arms around his shoulders. “But we could both use some fun, so why not take you up on your offer?”

“And that’s just what I am, aren’t I? A good time,” Mickey smiled, slipping an arm around your waist to drag you against him. “Everyone’s having a good time tonight.”

Even if you didn't leave at the end of the night with Mickey, you knew it wouldn't be a boring evening. Watching him in his element was hotter than you cared to admit, the gorgeous man making everyone get lost in the music and atmosphere. It was like he encouraged people to lose their inhibitions. No one cared about the consequences.

They lived like there was no tomorrow.

The flashing lights reflected off his blue eyes as you gazed at him, but they almost looked black. “We can’t have too much fun,” you teased as he began to grind his hips against yours.

“Why not?”

You sighed and wondered if he was trying to goad you or if he really didn't get it. “Because we both know how this’ll end and I'm a little tired of it.”

Mickey would happily go on his way while you were left with a void in your soul. The worst part was you were certain he didn’t do it on purpose. The bond between the two of you wasn’t pure enough to be love, so why would you expect him to treat you like you were his other half?

“Why does it have to end at all? C'mon. You and I always have fun together,” he argued, grabbing your chin with a firm hand so he could lick you from your chin to your forehead. “Besides. Your aura is so delicious. I've missed it.”

A lustful sigh left your lungs before you attempted to step back. The smile on his face looked strange. “My aura? What the fuck are you talking about?”

Mickey threw his head back as he laughed, his chest shaking as his fingers dug into your hip. He sometimes struck you as a man more intelligent and deeper than he let on, but always swayed you from those thoughts with a slip of his tongue or the slide of his cock. He was lust in human form. But he led you down a path with no end.

So why did you follow him?

“You know what I mean. Your whole glow screams lust. And lust is a sin that feeds itself and grows,” he said as he pushed your costume up your thigh. It didn’t matter that there were others close by where anyone could see. And you didn’t put up a fight. It wouldn't be the first time you fooled around with people mere feet away. That was part of the fun. “But I don't need to feed myself with you around. You feed me plenty.”

At that moment, you almost wondered if Mickey’s costume was real as he hooked a finger in your panties and moved them aside. He could easily lure people in under the guise of a good time. Lost in his hypnotic gaze, you moaned as his finger circled your hole. “It's like you really are a demon,” you breathed as one finger pushed inside you, making you clamp around him.

His teeth flashed in a wicked smile as the digit moved in shallow thrusts. “Demons come in all forms. All shapes and sizes,” he said as you frowned. He had to be kidding. “This city is my playground with plenty of people to play with.”

You smiled after a second, playing along. “Is that what you're doing? Playing with me?”

“You make it easy to play with, even when I have to chase you. Though I didn't exactly chase you, did I? All it took was a text,” he said, though you didn't feel insulted at the implication of how easy it was to get you there. “And dressing up like an angel? You’re far from being immune to temptation.”

It wasn't fear that moved through you, but your smile slipped all the same even as he dragged a finger in and out of you. “I, oh, was kidding about the whole demon thing.”

The gorgeous grin was back on his face. “So was I.”

He sealed his lips against yours as he pushed another finger in, the feeling making your head spin as you rocked your hips. Wantonly, you practically humped his hand as he took what he wanted from you. It was pathetic that you allowed him in so easily, but didn’t he always make you feel good?

“You’re bad for me,” you whined, gasping when he bit down on your bottom lip.

“The worst,” he agreed, pressing his palm hard against your clit. “But you’re so good for me, aren’t you? Such a good girl.”

The praise warmed you as your moans got louder.

“I could fuck anyone here tonight, but it’s you I want,” he went on, curling his fingers just the way you needed him to. “My filthy, desperate angel. You’ll let me do whatever I want to you and you won’t stop me. Do you know how good that makes me feel that you want me so badly?”

You wanted to argue that he was wrong, but how could you deny his words when you were so close? And he was right. He could fuck anyone he wanted, but his fingers were deep inside you because you were special. You meant something to him.

Right?

“You want me, too,” you stated, but the words came out like a whimper, lost in the music.

“Of course, I do. You’re my favorite. That’s why I wanted you here with me tonight,” he smirked, the words as empty as how you felt when the sun came up. But you believed him because you wanted to believe him. That it didn’t matter if he took other lovers because they didn’t mean anything to him. He was still your addiction and you wanted to get high. “Now come on my fingers. I know you can do it.”

With a shudder, you did as he said and soaked his fingers with your juices. He licked into your mouth as it went slack from pleasure, an almost smug hum reverbirating as the digits continued to glide along your walls. The familiar haze washed over you as he guided you through your orgasm. If anyone around you noticed, they didn’t care.

Neither did you.

“Delicious,” he purred as he drew his fingers out and shoved them into your mouth. “How do you feel?”

Licking your taste from his fingers, you swallowed with a heavy heart. “Empty,” you admitted, the high crashing even sooner than usual. You hated it. You wanted it to go away.

You needed to go, but your feet wouldn't allow you to move.

He didn’t look at all offended by your answer. Instead, a pleased smile spread across his face. “That’s because my fingers are never enough. You need my cock.”

You both knew you weren't going anywhere. Why argue? “I need your cock,” you agreed. All he had to do was fill you up and it would make it better.

“Bend over my table and I’ll give it to you,” he promised with a glint in his eye. It was like staring into an abyss and you wondered how deep it went. Would you ever reach the bottom if you fell?

“But the crowd-”

“They won’t even notice. They'll just think we're grinding to the music,” he said, gracefully hopping on the stage as you followed with shaky limbs. “And even if they did, who gives a fuck? They’ll wish they were in your place, but they never will be. You know why?”

“Because I’m special?”

“Yeah, you are. My favorite angel who feeds me well,” he assured you, the void in your chest slowly starting to grow smaller as he brought your back to his chest. “But don’t ever walk away from me again, okay? It'll only hurt us both.”

There was no sarcasm in his tone. Only truth.

“I won't walk away,” you said, letting him pull your dress up again as he pressed his clothed cock against your ass.

You'd always come back if he called.

“That's my girl” he praised, lightly biting your earlobe. “Now hold onto the table so we can have some real fun.”

With a nod and a smile, you fell into the abyss.

Why is he so pretty? Love and thanks for reading! 🧡

Masterlist ⚓ Misc Sebastian Stan Characters ⚓ Ko-Fi

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for tattling?

This was a couple years ago. Our ages, at the time, were I believe as follows: Me, 16F

My sister, Jane, 13F

My other sister, Rose, 11F

My cousin, Scott, 15M

My other cousin, Georgia, 12F

I’m trying to write this in a way that, if one of them does stumble across it, they won’t know it’s talking about them. But all important details will be there.

We were staying over at Scott’s and generally having a great time. I could drive at that point, so we were having fun being away from parents and with me able to drive them (not too far, as we all have somewhat strict parents).

I was aware, somewhat, that Scott was addicted to smoking weed, this was something that had come up before, mostly in Jane and Scott’s conversations. My stance on this was “I don’t care what you do, it’s none of  my business, just please do it safely” due to past experience with self-destructive people. I didn't know that Jane also was doing drugs (unsure which) though not while we were out of town.

The rest of the group went off with Scott to meet his dealer, I stayed home to spend time with my very young cousin (6 at the time, I think). I knew where they were going. The only ones who had contact with the actual dealer were Scott and Jane, I double checked about that, I didn’t want Georgia or Rose getting involved in that.

That night, they were all sleeping in one room and I in the next room over (I’ve always been sort of an outcast among extended family, just due to being kind of odd). I stayed with them and talked until about 11:00, and I saw both Scott and Jane smoking. I knew they were planning on letting Georgia smoke as well, but that they said Rose was too young.

I didn’t care what they did. I went to sleep hours before them.

The next day, something tipped off our parents (probably the fact that the whole downstairs smelled like weed… still don’t know how they failed to consider that, honestly) and everyone got pulled away for questioning. My mom asked me if I knew anything, I said I went to bed early and hadn’t seen a thing. I was never even suspected, I’m seen as too much of a goody two shoes.

I was in the bathroom, hiding, because I was suddenly feeling very, very guilty about not stopping them. I knew drugs could cause issues (although I also think that, at the time, it was a good thing Scott had that to help him, as he was extremely depressed) especially for Georgia and Rose.

I ended up texting my mom and telling her that I actually had seen them smoking. She texted back saying that she’d already pretty much known, but I’d just confirmed it.

I’ve never quite been able to convince myself I did the right thing. It tore the group apart. We can’t be alone together anymore. Everyone is paranoid about this happening again now. Scott ended up turning to harder drugs and getting sent to rehab after an overdose.

I don’t know what I should’ve done, or if I responded right.

Was I the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

[eiightysixbaby]

This is my official request for more dommy Johnny

I need him to manhandle me so I’m on my stomach while he fucks me from behind and calls me his little slut and then takes pictures of the mess he made of me afterwards all spread out for him and praises me and tells me how good and beautiful I am for him and how he’s going to use those photos to get off later

And if you could make it a plus sized reader I will love you forever

Thank you very much

What have you done to me

gia. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I love this request.

18+ only

Stinging. Your skin is stinging where Jonathan’s hand cracked down on your ass just seconds ago. You’re vulnerable, fully exposed to him where he has you sprawled out on the mattress, ass up. He’d flipped the fabric of your skirt up, revealing the soft globes of flesh to his greedy eyes.

He’d been itching to get his hands on you all day, unable to handle the way you looked in your cute little skirt and your sweater that hugged your curves just fucking right. The way your thighs brushed together when you walked had him salivating, chewing through his leash to get between them. And he knew you’d worn the outfit on purpose, he knew you were fully aware it would get him all sorts of riled up.

So the second he’d gotten you home, he had you pinned against the wall, lips captured against his as he kissed you breathless. His hands were groping, squeezing fistfuls of flesh, uncaring if his harsh grip would bruise you. He’d led you to the bedroom, pushed you onto the mattress and laughed when you laid down on your back — as if he’d give you that luxury.

He’d moved you, manhandled you really, making sure your ass was in the air for him, your chest pressing against the mattress.

And now, well… now you’re completely at his mercy, taking every swift spank he delivers, moaning into the sheets with each delicious lick of pain.

“Thought you were so cute wearing that outfit today, huh?” he sneers, fingers tugging the waistband of your thong before letting go, allowing it to snap back against your skin. “Thought you’d have some fun by getting me all worked up?”

His hands grip your thighs, roughly spreading them apart. Fingers dig into doughy skin, kneading the flesh as he practically salivates over you. His index finger swipes over your cunt, your panties suddenly a prison that merely keep him further away from you, the lack of direct contact agitating you. You whine, wiggling your hips back into his touch. You know you’re already soaking through your underwear, and you know he’s probably already noticed.

“God, you’re so desperate for me, aren’t you?” Jonathan laughs, rubbing his big palms over the expanse of your ass.

He tugs your thong down, working it past your hips and down your legs until it’s falling to the floor. He spreads your legs once more, wider this time, forcing back a groan at the sight of your exposed pussy. Your arousal glistens against your skin, pooling between your legs.

“Fucking hell, this damn wet already?” he asks, his tone incredibly cocky. “Should’ve known, you’re such a fucking slut for me,” he continues, bringing two fingers forward to collect your juices.

He slides his digits through your folds, coating them in your arousal, making you lean into his touch.

“Yeah, baby? Feels good, huh?”

“Jonathan…” you plead, needing his hands anywhere, everywhere, feeling you and filling you.

Those same two fingers dip past your entrance, plunging inside of you with a squelch. Your mouth hangs open, a breath of air leaving it as if you’d been punched. He feels too good and it’s only his fingers, how are you going to survive more?

That question is about to get answered, as he pumps his fingers just a few times before promptly removing them. You’re about to complain about the emptiness when he’s getting on his knees, face diving between your spread thighs so he can taste you. You feel his hot tongue lick a stripe up your lips, a moan leaving him as he does it. His hands grip your ass cheeks, steadying himself as he devours you from behind.

You swear your legs go numb when he presses his tongue inside, exploring every inch he can reach. His eager mouth sucks on your clit, eliciting high-pitched moans from you. You can feel his saliva and your arousal coating you, dripping down the side of your inner thighs and onto the comforter beneath you. You have to be making a complete mess, that much you can tell, but Jonathan’s having the time of his life.

He’s devouring you — that’s the only word for it. Drinking up your juices like holy water, like it’ll cure all of his problems. Your fists grip the blankets, hips bucking as he passes his tongue quickly back and forth over your clit. You can hear the wet sloshing noises, hear his garbled moans and whimpers that clamber up out of his throat.

“You taste so fucking good, baby, could eat this pussy forever,” he praises into your core, his words sending vibrations across your skin.

He sounds absolutely gone, and he is, the only thing on his mind is you.

His cock strains against his pants, desperate to be let loose, begging to be inside of your tight little cunt. He removes his hands from your ass, unbuttoning his pants before tugging the zipper down, all while his mouth stays latched to you. You faintly hear the zipper, you register the loss of contact when he pulls his mouth away, but you’re still not ready for it when you feel the head of his cock bump against your weeping hole.

You practically suck him in, his cock fully sheathing itself inside of you with ease. Jonathan moans, gripping the plush skin around your hips before delivering another smack to your ass. The way he stretches you is phenomenal, just the right amount of fullness that keeps you so satisfied. He only stays still for a moment, tricking you into a sense of calm before he’s pulling almost entirely out and then slamming right back in. You can feel his skin flush against yours for a second before he’s repeating the action, setting a pace you can barely keep up with. His thrusts get more shallow but faster, his balls slapping against you with each movement. You can’t form a coherent sentence, can barely choke out his name in the midst of all of this, and you know it’s only spurring him on.

“Such a stupid little slut, aren’t you? Can’t even talk?” he taunts, gripping your hips harder. You babble something unintelligible, your cheeks heating when you hear him snort out a laugh in response. “My poor baby, getting fucked so dumb she can’t remember how to use her words,” he says, pulling your back against his chest, his mouth mere centimeters from your ear as he purrs into it.

You mewl, your walls clenching around him at his humiliating words. He lets you drop back down, your body slumping forward onto the mattress once more. A low groan escapes him as he watches you, the recoil of your ass with each snap of his hips to yours nearly too much for him to take. One hand snakes around to your underside, gripping the flesh of your tummy before moving up under your sweater to toy with your nipples. You hiss, pleasure running straight down to your core, flames igniting between your thighs.

“Oh — oh my fucking god,” you gasp, his cock hitting your sweet spot repetitively.

“Yeah? You like when I fuck you like this?” he grits, his voice straining with the growing difficulty of keeping his composure.

“Y-yes, fuck, Jonathan,” you cry, your eyes rolling back as you hurtle closer to orgasm.

“That’s right, baby. Take what I give you like a fucking whore,” he rasps. Whines and moans are leaving your mouth consistently now, barely a moment of silence as he ruins you.

“I’m s-soooooo fucking close,” you tell him, the words coming out like more of a plea for his help than a mere fact.

“I’ll get you there, baby. Come on, soak my cock, angel,” he encourages, fingers finding your clit and rubbing circles on the sensitive bundle.

You pinch your eyes shut, brows furrowing as he tips you over the edge. You can feel yourself gush around him, your heartbeat pounding in your ears as he fucks you right through each wave of near-overwhelming pleasure. His movements grow sloppier, everything more slippery than it was before. His fingers grip the meat of your ass impossibly hard, nails digging in, making you bite down on your bottom lip.

“Gonna cum in this fucking pussy, baby, make a mess of you,” he warns, and barely a few seconds later you feel him tense inside of you.

His cock pulses, every drop of his release filling your abused cunt as he slows the rocking of his hips. Your hands tentatively loosen their grip on the sheets, your body going limp as he pulls out of you.

“God damn, you’re fucking wrecked, baby,” he pants, his eyes raking over your puffy lips and glistening thighs.

He doesn’t think it can get any better than this, having you sprawled out on his bed with his cum leaking out of you. He has half a mind to shove it back inside of you with his fingers, but he opts to just admire you instead.

You can hear him shuffling around the room behind you, but you can’t bring yourself to lift your head to see what he’s doing. Until you hear the camera click, see the flash going off, and you know he’s taking photos to keep in his private stash. Getting your pussy perfectly in the frame, making sure to capture how destroyed you are after him. You arch your back, spreading your legs wider to really give him a nice view, even stretching your arm down to let your fingers toy with your clit just for a moment.

“Fuck, holy shit you’re so damn beautiful,” he praises, setting the Polaroid down once he’s decided he’s content.

He sits beside you, showing you the pictures as they start to develop. “I’m absolutely getting off to these, baby. Every fucking night I can’t be with you, I’m breaking these out,” he presses a kiss to your lips. “You’re so fucking perfect,” another kiss, and another.

“No fair, I need pictures of you, too,” you pout.

He spreads out on the bed, his leaking cock staring you in the face, already growing hard again.

“Take some, then. I’m all yours.”

[rubydubydoo122]

In every universe Jason Peter Todd dies young. It’s a fate sealed across the multiverse. Maybe he could hope that there’s one universe where he doesn’t. aka, Jason, Dick, and Bruce go multiverse hopping, and are not having a fun time. (Ps, when I started writing this fic I hced Jason as Latino, but I don't really believe in that hc anymore, so just a heads up if you don't like that hc)

TRIGGER WARNING -> Hey... I don't think there are any this chapter!

It felt like ice was settling in Jason’s chest. He wasn’t Robin. He was no longer a street kid. He wasn’t Robin. He was no longer a street kid. He wasn’t Robin, he was no longer a street kid, he was safe.

He was supposed to be safe.

Why was he dead?

He was supposed to live. He had a life outside of living to the next day or saving Gotham. 

Why did he die?

Why does he keep dying?

He looked to Bruce, whose eyes were rimmed red from the crying he was doing earlier. Then to Dick, who was standing unnaturally still. 

“ What did I do?” he wasn’t sure if he shouted it at the top of his lungs or barely even whispered it. “What did I do wrong?”

Dick snapped himself out of his transe, “Jason you didn’t do anything–”

“I had to have done something. I had to have done something so fucked on a cosmic scale.” He pulled at his hair, hard, to stop his eyes from burning, “I keep dying. I keep dying. That Jason had a good life. He was finally safe. He had no reason to die. He had a good life. He was happy. He was beyond loved.” His breath hitched and he knew he couldn’t stop the dam of emotions that were flooding over. “I don’t understand. I don’t understand. Why do I have to die? Why don’t I get a happy ending? Why don’t I deserve one?”

Before he could tell what was going on he was back in his Dad’s arms. One hand at the base of his head and the other rubbing circles into his shoulder. In the way he used. Just like he used to.

“Jay, lad, you listen to me, and you listen to me closely. You haven’t done anything to deserve the fates that have been handed to you. You were a child. One who was forced to grow up too fast, when all you should’ve been allowed to do was live. You deserve to live. And you are living right now.”

He felt Dick cling onto the both of them, “Maybe the universe is cruel. Maybe you had a shitty ending, but it was a shitty ending to your prologue. You got a second chance, and Bruce and I will do everything to make sure you get a happy ending. Because that’s what you deserve.”

And that’s why he let them in, all those years ago. Because they cared . They both really cared. About Jason.

Bruce moved one of his arms so he was also holding Dick, “You’re my boys. My boys. And I’ll always get you two back.”

Jason buried his face into Bruce’s shoulder. He remembers there used to be a time where he’d hug Bruce and barely make it past his ribs. He used to only be able to rest his chin on Bruce’s shoulder if Bruce was kneeling. 

Despite how much Jason has grown, he still feels so small. And he’ll let himself feel that way. Because he’s not alone anymore. He has his dad and brother to protect him.

They realized it was mid February of 2017. Meaning this universe’s Jason was 16. So it was most likely another Zombie Jason. So they made the decision to sit the universe out. Except, after a day they were still there. Then two, then they started to get restless. So Dick and Jason went out for a little food run, and they came back with three sacks of oranges and a Dick had gotten a bag of edibles.

They came back to the motel to the sound of the news. And a Dick who was high as balls

Dick ripped open the bag or oranges and squinted at the screen, “Huh, didn’t realize Tim wore yellow pants.” 

Jason also looked at the screen. The Robin who was currently on screen, leaped over a sentient vine, wearing Jason’s yellow snow pants, and green combat boots. “That’s not Tim, that’s me.”

“Oh yeah…Tim has his…staff.” Dick took out a bunch of oranges and started juggling them.

Bruce sighed from where he was making adjustments to the beacon design. Though, Jason doesn’t understand why he keeps adjusting it. It’s useless if it’s on paper. “Are you two high right now?”

Dick raised an eyebrow at Bruce, “Come on, Bruce. I’m an adult capable of making my own responsible decisions.” 

Jason rolled his eyes, “Come on Bruce, you know I rarely accept pain killers. And this is a Gotham pre- me cleaning up the whole drug trade.”

Bruce looked to Dick, “Edibles?” he nodded, “Give.” Dick dug the bag of gummies from his pocket and handed it to Bruce. He looked from Jason, to Dick, then back to Jason, “I trust you checked if it was clean.”

“It’s literally my job. Been doing it since I was 18.”

Bruce had that face like he wanted to say something, but shrugged and popped a gummy in his mouth.

Batman doing edibles. Now there’s a sight.  

They focused back on the screen where Batman and Robin were closing in on Poison Ivy, Robin ran towards Batman, where they locked hands as Robin leaped, and threw a kick to Ivy’s head, knocking her out cold. Jason frowned, “That was like… a six.” Robin looked quite winded by that, which was weird because he knew he should have more energy like that.

The camera panned to Vicky Vale on the screen, “That was the fifth rogue of the month. And it’s not even Valentines. They’re really putting Batman and Robin through the ringer.”

“Oh my god, Bruce,” Dick suddenly stopped juggling the oranges they had bought. “It's the winter of hell.”

“What’s the winter of– oh wait, isn’t it when Bane snaps Bruce’s back like a toothpick?”

“Yes, though, that was because, I’ll admit, I was burnt out by the mass Arkham Asylum breakout, and I refused to ask for help.”

“Don’t worry, Old Man. It was part of your character development.” 

The screen panned from Ivy in handcuffs, and Batman talking to Commissioner Gordon, to Robin, pulling his cape over his shoulders and walking over to the Batmobile. His breaths were coming out unnaturally even, meaning he was trying to control how tired he looked. Still he flashed a smile at the camera and sat in the passenger seat.

Bruce set down his pencil, “Robin probably has a test this week.” He must’ve seen Jason’s confused expression, “You used to keep your notes in the Batmobile the week leading up to a test. You would stay in the Batmobile and study while I talked to Commissioner Gordon.”

Dick tossed Jason a peeled orange, “Nerd.”

“Yet, I can still lift more than you, bro.” Jason pulled apart a piece and tossed it in his mouth.

Bruce held out his hand for an orange. Dick grabbed one out of the bag for him, and Bruce started peeling it.  “The next attack is in two days, and it’s–”

“Oh! Let me guess. My man, Eddie Nygma. Aka, the Riddler.”

“No, it’s the Joker and the Scarecrow.”

“Huh. I hate both of them. When do they make an appearance?”

“In… two days.”

Dick started munching on his orange, “Damn, we got sent back early.”

Bruce tossed Jason half of the orange he just peeled, “Maybe the force that is pinballing us across the multiverse knows our thoughts and feelings.” He said it in a way that indicated he was joking.

Jason blinked, “Hold up. Bruce, you might be onto something. What were you guys thinking of right before we all got hit with the beam? And be so honest with me right now.”

Dick frowned, “I don’t really remember, just that I had to make sure you were safe.”

“I was thinking about how the machine Black Mask had used was a prototype and had never been used before. I…I thought I was going to lose you again.”

Ok, that’s what Jason had thought, “And how about after the first Jay who died?”

“I was thinking about how small you were. And how you were too young to die.”

Dick nodded, “I was thinking the same thing, but then I think I had a line of thought like ‘if we’d found Jason earlier on the streets, he wouldn’t’ve been that small.’”

Jason grinned, “Ok, so I’m pretty sure us being pinballed around the multiverse has something to do with the Law of Attraction.”

Bruce grunted, “That’s just a placebo–”

Dick hushed him, “Do you have magical swords, Bruce? No. Let our supernatural expert speak.”

“As you know, the Law of Attraction states that thoughts and energy have the power to shape a reality. When we first got hit, Bruce was thinkin’ of me dyin’, so we got thrown into a reality where I died. Then the second reality was a merging of you thinkin’ I was too young to die, and you thinking of findin’ a little Jason on the streets. And at that point, Bruce was trying to figure out a pattern and the only thing his brain could latch onto was–”

“You being dead.”

“Yes! Yes exactly. And we’ve just been spiraling and spiraling and spiraling. And, hm, maybe the reason why this Jason is our first one older than 15 is because in the last one, we thought he would live longer. Ya know?”

Dick hummed, “So you’re saying if we think happy thoughts, this Jason will live?”

“Well, not happy , per say, just not overly pessimistic. Like ‘ Jason will live’ is a great line for manifestations. Obviously, the Law of Attraction isn’t the law of the land, there are certain events that are written in the–” Jason snorted as he suddenly remembered something, “Canon Events. There are Canon Events, but like other details are always changing. That’s why I hate looking into the future. Drives me nuts, bolts and bananas. I bet my canon event is stealing Bruce’s tires.”

“You literally said you were Uncle Ben–”

“Upapapapa,” Jason wagged his finger at Dick, “That sounds like some negative affirmations. Gimme another orange. Doc told me I’ll get scurvy.” 

Dick burst out into laughter while Bruce whipped his head to Jason so fast, he was afraid he’d get whiplash,  “Jason! You’re not allowed to have citrus!”

“Yes I am.”

“Oh. Ok.” Bruce immediately relaxed, “I could’ve sworn you weren’t though. Something about the Ascorbic acid reducing melanin production.”

“Only if it’s too much. Tis a delicate balance.”

Dick handed Jason another peeled orange, “Don’t get scurvy, bro.”

“Thanks. I can feel it fading as we speak.” Jason chewed on a piece, “Anywho, positive vibes, or else I’ll be dismal.”

“But being dismal isn’t good for good vibes.”

“Exactly.”

That being said, it was hard not to think of everything that could go wrong. Especially knowing that Batman and Robin would be facing the Joker. Especially knowing that in a decent amount of universes they had been to, Jason had been killed by the Joker. Still, they tried. Bruce wrote out affirmations on the little notepad in the motel room, Dick said them outloud, and Jason meditated.

Still, two days later, when they saw Batman and Robin facing the Joker and Scarecrow, it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. 

The Joker immediately looked at Robin, but Jason could see the moment the Joker realized something more . He looked Robin up and down, gaze lingering a bit lower, before making eye contact, and bursting into a fit of giggles, “My, my, Boy Blunder you sure are growing at an alarming rate.”

“Yeah, I’ve been eating my vegetables. I heard carrots help give your skin a natural glow. Did’ja not eat enough ‘a those growing up? You’re looking a bit pasty.” For all his talk, Robin pulled his cape around him.

Batman stepped in between the two of them. “Robin, do you have your gasmask on you?”  

Robin responded by grabbing it out of his utility belt, “I’ll get Crane.” He pulled out his grapple, and he swung away.

“Now, Batsy, I didn’t mean it that way–” Batman started pummeling the Joker with his fists.

…That doesn’t make sense. The Joker is a lot of horrible vile things, but a pedophile isn’t one of them. Otherwise Jason would’ve killed him point blank years ago. 

Then the screen split in half to show Robin running and leaping to grab the bottom rung of a fire escape and kicking Crane into a pile of trash. Crane started to sit up, but Robin took a glass bottle, flipped it in his hands once, and smashed it into Crane’s noggin.

Really, Crane is easy to defeat if you don’t breathe in his fear toxins. That’s why he loves his helmet. Built in filters. One punch, and Crane is down for the count.

While Batman continued to punch the living daylights out of the Joker, Robin made quick work of cuffing Crane. Then he leaned against the bricks panting. 

The earlier gas mask models were hard to breathe in. Adding the cold low pressure winter air made it nearly impossible to breathe while fighting.

Batman seemed to be done pounding the Joker’s head in. Mainly because Commissioner Gordon had come by, thrown a kick at the piece of garbage, and started cuffing the man

Robin rolled his shoulders and shook out his leg before picking up Crane from where he was laying, and dragging him out of the Alley. Eventually, Batman came, lifted Crane into a fireman’s carry and nodded at Robin.

To anyone else, the nod would’ve seemed cold and dismissive, but Jason knew that specific nod meant you can relax now.

Robin ripped off his gas mask, and grappled away.

Jason grabbed a pair of gloves, his jacket, and the red beanie they’d got,  “I’m going to my gargoyle.”

Jason knew he would arrive at the gargoyle after Robin, but what he didn’t expect was to catch Robin sound asleep in the corner of the roof. He wasn’t even sitting under Garry, just in the corner with his cape pulled around him. 

Seemed more like a Tim thing to pass out on a roof, but Jason was also a pretty light sleeper… but Robin should’ve heard him coming up the fire escape. Jason made sure to be a bit louder on his way up.

Was he–

No, he couldn’t be. Bruce built the winter suit with warmers built in so he wouldn’t freeze. And he could see Robin’s breaths puff up in the cold air. He was probably just really tired. 

Really tired. 

Jason moved to sit next to Gary, but made sure he could still keep an eye on their surroundings. Though, if he hadn’t been paying attention, and if he didn’t see it coming a mile away, he wouldn’t’ve spotten Batman.

He sent a little wave towards the shadow, and signed out “ One Bad Night A-R-T. Are you gonna make me sing the song?”

Batman came out of the shadows, “Jason?”

That caused Robin to pick out his head in a panic, but then he saw Batman, blinked blearily, and then rested his head back on his knees, falling back asleep.

 Jason made a concerned face towards Robin as Batman moved to sit next to Jason.

“He was up last night studying for an APUSH test. I told him to take a break tonight, but–-” Batman shrugged, “You know you.” He looked to Robin with a look that was a mix between fond and concerned, before looking back to Jason, “Report.”

Jason rolled his eyes. Some things about Bruce never changed across realities, “Black Mask hit us with a teleportation prototype which caused us to be pinballed around the multiverse.” He said in a low voice, so he wouldn’t wake up Robin, “We’ve been to…close to thirty universes, the longest we’ve been in one singular reality was around three days, the shortest was close to 10 minutes, I think. Our Bruce can tell you the exact stuff. We’re certain that our allies are working on bringing us home, but because we keep moving around…”

“You think they can’t pinpoint your location.” 

Jason nodded.

“Is it just you and your Bruce?”

“Dick too.”

Batman nodded, “We can all head to the cave right now, if you would like?”

Jason glanced at Robin, and how the only reason he was asleep right now was pure exhaustion and the feeling of safety. Especially after the Joker’s sexual harassment, it was surprising that Robin even fell asleep. strangers coming to his home, he definitely wouldn’t be able to properly rest, even though he clearly needed it.

“We’ll swing by… tomorrow evening? That way you can warn Alfred. If we don’t show, chances are we got thrown into a different reality.”

Batman gave him a barely there smile, “I’ll try not to take it too personally.”

So there they were, standing in front of the manor gates, fighting over who would ring the doorbell. 

Dick pushed Jason forwards, “Jason, you’re the one who was invited, you ring it.”

Jason stepped behind Bruce, “You’re the one who’s better with people.”

“You literally talked to this Bruce yesterday.”

“You’ve literally talked to any other version of Bruce. Just ring the buzzer.”

“You do it!”

Bruce rolled his eyes, and hit the buzzer, “I’m sure you’ve been watching them bicker.”  

The gates opened, as the automated voice of Alfred patched through, “Yes, it is quite amusing to see they never truly grow out of it.”  

Dick scoffed, “Once an annoying younger brother, always an annoying younger brother.”

Just for that, Jason flicked Dick’s cheek, with a satisfying pip sound. Dick looked like he was about to smack Jason in retaliation, but Alfred was standing at the front door with a very stern look on his face. 

Alfred led them into the study room where a younger Bruce and Jay were both waiting for them. 

Hm, this was weird. He never saw Bruce at this point in time. Though, this Bruce didn’t look much different from the other Bruces they’ve been seeing across realities. Jay on the other hand… he looked different. 

He was taller than most of the Jasons they had met. Probably around 5’5”. And his features were more mature. It was losing the roundness he’d gained during his years living in the manor. The spots of vitiligo across his face stood out in the way they usually did during the summer, meaning his completion was probably deeper. And his eyes– he didn’t have central heterochromia like Sheila. They were warm and brown. Just like Mami’s.

Alternate reality Bruce stood up and shook Bruce and Dick’s hands, oddly, this was the most formal meeting with their alternate reality selves. “Hello, welcome to our reality. What’s the ‘low down ’?”

Jay turned to Jason, Dick and made a ‘ this man is so embarrassing’ face. Dick held back a laugh as alternate reality Bruce opened the entrance to the Cave, and regular Bruce started filling him in. Basically the stuff Jason told him last night, only in more detail. Like down to the minute they were in each reality, and… well, he didn’t tell him about the multiple Jason’s dying part, but that was probably because Bruce was trying hard with the positive affirmations. 

Then he brought out the blueprints for the beacon, and Jay took one look at it and smacked his head, and rushed towards the stairs, “I have a physics project. I swear, if one more maniac shows up this week, I’m gonna lose it.”

Younger Bruce looked at Jay with a smirk, “Then I suppose it’s a good thing it’s Saturday, huh?”

Jay fixed him with a deadpan stare, “Your Dad-jokes aren’t nearly as funny as you think they are.”

Bruce didn’t seem hurt by the comment, but it did seem to soften him, with a face that looked more… vulnerable, “If you need to take a break–”

“No. I’m good. We catch Two-Face and then I’m stayin’ in bed the entirety of break.”

Bruce sucked a breath through his teeth, playfully, “If those are your plans, I guess I’ll have to cancel those college tours. Are you planning on bedrotting through rehearsal too?”

“You know what I meant.”  Then Jay continued up the stairs while singing ‘Those magic changes’ from Grease.

Jason grinned, “I actually love this reality. It’s the best one we’ve been to, by far .”

Younger Bruce gave him an amused look, “I’m glad you like it. May I ask why all the other realities were not so great?”

“Hmm… No. We’re trying to keep a positive mindset here, and thinking about all the other realities would… make us pretty despondent.” 

Younger Bruce blinked towards Older Bruce, who grunted, “They need time to process what we have seen in other realities. We will tell you, eventually.”

“Hrg.” He could see the push and pull between Batman’s skepticism and Bruce’s willingness to help people behind his eyes, “What can you tell me?”

“I faced a similar situation where there was a mass Arkham breakout, though it was all orchestrated by Eduardo Dorrance, otherwise known as Bane. He is aware of our identities and after we put Two-Face back in Arkham, he breaks into the manor to catch us off guard.”

And just like that, younger Bruce was in Batman mode and finding all the information he could on Bane.

“Bruce, Bane’s whole thing was breaking you down emotionally and mentally, so he could break you physically.” Dick placed a hand on his shoulder, “Yes, you do need to capture Two-Face, but you also need to take a break, otherwise he will break you.”

Bruce continued to search through the Batcomputer, “How can you say that when he knows who I am? Just by knowing, that puts all of us at risk. What if he targets the Dick and the Titans, or Jason’s school? I need to be prepared–”

“You can prepare yourself with as much information as you can, but without proper rest, you can never truly be prepared.”

Both Dick and Jason turned to look at Old Man Bruce, cus, yeah Bruce was wise when he decided to actually communicate, but that edged on the hypocritical side.

Old Man Bruce didn’t pay attention to them gawking, “I could also give you all the information I know about Bane, but only if you rest. It would take less time that way.”

Younger Bruce stopped typing, “...Fine. But it’s only because I know Alfred is going to be done with dinner soon and I don’t want to keep him waiting.” 

“No patrolling tonight. Two-Face doesn’t show up for another two days. You are taking the weekend off. No Batman or Batman adjacent work.”

“Are… are you benching me right now?”

Older Bruce gave him the look ™ meaning he wasn’t going to be accepting any nonsense from younger Bruce. Honestly, it was kinda weird. Most of the other Bruces, Bruce had spoken to in a strictly professional manner. He never… Daded them.

Ok, it was really weird.

Younger Bruce seemed to realize it was a losing battle, and turned off the Batcomputer, “Ok then, though I expect all the information you know about Bane to be on there by Monday.”

So now that they had the whole positive/negative affirmations thing going, they had a realization. They were probably being tethered to each reality by the Jason of said universe. So as long as this Jason stayed alive, they would stay in this universe. 

And so far this Jason was doing a better job than Jason had, so… 

The kid was 16 and had a fully functioning brain. He was doing things he loved like school and the musical. He was living, and making Robin work. Jason was happy for him. He was happy for Bruce who was gushing about how well Jay did during the fall play, and some of the volunteer work he was doing on top of that and–

This could’ve been his life.

So the first chance he got, he ran to hide. Technically, it wasn’t hiding, because the library was the first place anyone would think to look for him, but it got him alone. It gave him space to breathe. 

And maybe he was a masochist for reading ‘The Time Machine’ by H.G Wells, but you can’t be in a family of vigilantes without being the slightest bit masochistic.

He was about halfway through when Jay snuck in with a binder and pencil in his hands and sat on the floor next to the couch Jason was on, so he was blocked from view of the Library door. 

Not five minutes later Dick walked in, eyes searching around the room, “Have you seen Jason?”

Now, Jason wasn’t an idiot, and he knew that Jay was probably hiding because he also needed a breather. “What, tryna replace me?”

“What? No. I just–”

“That was cruel of me to say.” He knew the words would hurt Dick, and adding venom to them would just be salt on a scab that had been picked at, “He’s probably doing homework or something.”

Dick frowned, like he was debating which conversation to continue, and then he sighed, “That’s what he was doing when I last checked, but now I can’t find him.”

“Then he’s probably with Alfred. There’s really only three places in the manor he’d be.” He did also have a real hiding spot, but Jay seemed like he needed to do work, and that hiding spot was small and dark, and only for when he felt like everything was too big and too much.

“I already checked.”

Jason squared Dick with a look, “Then maybe, you’re being too hover-y and he wants some space.”

Dick cringed at himself, “You’re probably right.” Then he started walking closer to the couch.

“What are you doing?”

“Hanging out with you?” he went to sit on the couch, but Jason swatted him with the book.

“No. you’re not. Go away. Find ways to entertain yourself.” 

“What if we dye your white streak red?”

Jason groaned, “Go away, Richard . I’ve spent the last week with you and Bruce. Give me some me time.”

“No.” Dick definitely meant that sarcastically, because he stood up to leave, but then he paused at the door, “You know you’ll always be my little brother, right? Nothing changes that. Not death, or moral differences– nothing.”

“I can’t be your little brother, because I’m taller–”

“Oh, fuck off–”

“--But you'll always be my big brother too.” Then Jason realized that they were getting into super sappy territory so he tacked on, “In case the passing out on you didn’t get that through your thick skull.”

And just like that Dick’s soft big brother act, that he usually reserves for Damian, disappeared, “I swear, if I ever see you using those magical–”

“Bye!”

“--Soul sucking–”

“Bye!” 

“--Swords, I will–”

“Bye, bye, bye, bye, bye!” Jason rushed to shut the door, “Love ya too.”

Jay peeked over the couch, then slowly stood up then collapsed in the papasan chair, heaving out a sigh of relief, “And that’s supposed to be the same man who begs Bruce to give him space every time he visits?”

“I, honest to god, have no clue how that happened.” Jason sat back down on the couch.

Jay started opening up the binder in his hand, and then glanced at Jason, “Magical soul suckin' swords?”

“They’re not as bad as they sound.”

“Can I… see them?”

“No.”

They sat in silence, Jay finishing up his project and Jason continued reading until Jay definitely finished and started to open and close his mouth like he was debating asking a question.

Jason set his book down and settled deeper into the couch, “Are ya gonna continue to catch flies with your mouth or are ya gonna ask?”

“Hold up, I'm debatin' if I should ask the harder questions first or the easy ones.”

Jason drummed his fingers on his knee, “Start with the easy ones. I might not be allowed to answer the harder ones.” Jay frowned, so Jason added, “By Bruce. 'Cause he’s a control freak.”

“Naturally.” Jay shifted so he was mirroring Jason’s body language, “Why are your eyes blue?”

Jason gave him a ‘Use your brain’ look, because, really?

“Well, I know it’s because of the Multiverse and not everything’s gonna be the same, but there are certain things that have to stay the same for us to be Jason , right? So… if you’re more white passing, but ya still look like Papi, then–”

“Yeah, we have different birth moms. Though, Catherine did raise me.”

“Were ya also on the streets?”

Jason nodded, “And boostin' the tires off of Bruce’s car seems to be a multiversal constant.”

Jay grinned, “It’s just iconic behavior, as Eddie would put it.” Then he gestured to the front of his hair, “Vitiligo?”

“Dick still doesn’t have a clue. I’m 90% sure he thinks it’s the magical swords.”

“Son of the world's greatest detective and he still can’t figure it out.”

Jason rolled his eyes, “The last reality we went to, it was one where none of us were heroes, and that Jason said he had vitiligo, and ya wanna know what Dick said? He said ‘I guess the white streak is also a universal constant. Even if the reason isn’t magic in this one.’ ”

Jay blinked, “You’re pullin' my leg.”

“No, I’m not! He genuinely believes the white streak is from magic. I guess an autoimmune disease isn’t cool enough for him.”

“Yo, I think all the hair dye has been damaging my hair. They don’t curl the same way as the rest of my hair.” Jay tugged at one of his little loopies. “What about the whole secret identity thing?”

“Helmet. I lost it a couple realities ago, though. Also, yeah, ever since I stopped dyin' it, it’s been growin' back curlier.”

“College?”

“Next question.”

A bunch of different emotions flashed across Jay’s face, “What?”

“Next question.”

“No.” Jay crossed his arms, “You can’t be me if you didn’t want to go to college.”

“Who says I didn’t?” Jason leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, “Next question.”

Jay’s voice came out much smaller, “...Graduation?”

He leaned back again, “You get three more questions.”

“Your universe sucks, you know.”

Jason barked out a laugh, “Kid, this isn’t even the tip of the iceberg.”

Jay seemed to think carefully about what he was about to ask next, “Garzonas?”

“Did that animal die? Yes. Did I push him? No. Did Bruce know that until recently? Also no. I’m pretty sure.”

Jay’s eyes narrowed, “Did… Did your Bruce kick you out?”

Jason shook his head, “Just… I guess I was on probation or something, and when I proved to be ‘too reckless’, he fired me from being Robin. Then I ran away…” And then he died, “How’d it happen with you?”

“He also fired me from Robin for a bit. I… I really thought Bruce would kick me out. I mean, I wasn’t Robin at the time, and what use was I to Bruce if I wasn’t his partner? Then Dick came back from space, and asked why he hadn’t seen Robin in any of the news he’d been catching up on, and I told him. Then he rushed straight to the manor and I’m sure all of Gotham could hear Dick knock some sense into him. Turns out, Bruce didn’t even realize that I thought that being Robin was the only thing that tied me to the manor, and I didn’t really realize how much Bruce cares.” Jay looked Jason in the eyes and then groaned, “You did not just come to that realization, did you? No, that was a hypothetical question, not a real one. You are a sad little man.” He leaned back and looked at the ceiling, “Is that why your Bruce keeps looking at me funny? Cus you ran away at my age? Instead of just… talkin' with him? Well, I’m assumin' you talk now, because you’re on a multiversal adventure with him, but– Sufferin’ succotash, I’m still caught up on the college thing. Why not just get a GED and go? Bruce’ll probably still pay for you.”

Jason sighed and ran a hand over “That was more than five questions. Short answer is I trusted someone I shouldn’t have.”

“That’s ominous and dramatic. The only reason I can think of why you wouldn’t be able to go is if you just… no longer had an ID or something–" Jason went ramrod straight because how in tarnation do you guess that? Jay’s eyes widened, “Did you have to go into witness protection? Don’t they give you a new life if you do? Why not just ask the government if you can go to college– actually, forget I asked that. The government sucks, but–”

“I’m legally dead.”

“Heh?”

“Like, my heart stopped. For six months. I have a grave and everything.”

Jay blinked a couple times and then snorted, “Ok, Jesus.”

Jason let his entire face drop. Devoid of any emotions. He knows it’s macabre, because there were still parts of death that clung to him like gorilla glue. 

Maybe the rest of his siblings have died before. Though it was different with them. They died for minutes. Jason was dead for months. And sure, so was Damian, but he was brought back on purpose. Jason was brought back by mistake.

Talia was the first person to see him disassociate, and she said she thought he was reverting back to his state of comatose. The first time Cass saw, it freaked her into a panic attack. She said his emotions, body, mind– they all read as dead . And everyone, save Damian, looked pale. Like they were looking at a ghost.

He snapped his attention back to Jay, whose face was ashen. “Your universe sucks.” he pulled one of his knees to his chest and rested his chin on it. He could tell Jay had a hand on the cross that rested on his sternum, “If you died… was there an afterlife?”

“I don’t remember.” That was a lie. There was a recurring dream that he had. One where he was swinging over a green field that seemed to span miles and miles and miles. It was one of those dreams he never wanted to wake up from. One of those dreams where he felt nothing but peace. He felt at peace.

A part of him wants to believe that dream was about him, flying over Heaven alongside the angels, but he knows he couldn’t have gone to heaven. He couldn’t have, because he came back as nothing but a vengeful spirit. 

There was a bone deep exhaustion settling in Jay’s bones. He knew it was because he was overworked, and overtired. Homework, projects, studying for tests, rehearsals– he would’ve been fine with just those. In fact, he would’ve been thriving with just those. 

Ever since his conversation with Bruce, he knew that if he took a break from being Robin, or even full on quit, he would still have a place with Bruce and Alfred. In fact, he has taken a couple breaks from Robin, and he thinks he finally knows what safety– no, peace means. It didn’t feel like the rug was going to be pulled out from under him. He finally felt like he was on solid ground.

Being Robin wasn’t exhausting him. Not when he knew he was allowed to take a break. 

Being bombarded with rogues every night, that was the problem. Because that meant he couldn’t take a break. Jay knew Bruce could handle the drug dealers and the pimps, but the rogues were the worst of the worst. Yeah, they had their problems, but they weren’t afraid of hurting people in creative ways. 

Robin’s supposed to have Batman’s back. He could deal with two hours of sleep, or the incessant throb in his knee. But if he took a break, and Batman got hurt because Robin wasn’t there to watch his six– he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t deal with losing another Dad to Two-Face.

He finished taping his knee, and pulled down the leg of his yellow snow pants.

Time to steal a penny or something

The next couple days passed very awkwardly, because it was quite a -ha- bomb that Jason dropped on Jay, one he immediately regretted after five minutes. Who dumps their trauma all over a 16 year old. ( He did it to Tim, but that was kinda different. They were having a sibling bonding moment.) Though, he doesn’t think he told Bruce. He feels like younger Bruce would have acted differently if he did know.

Currently, Jay was at rehearsal, and Jason was in the kitchen with Dick and Alfred making scones. Then the security alarm went off.

Bane.

They had a plan. Older Bruce would stay in the Batcave, while Younger Bruce would lure him down there. Once there, Bruce would take out Bane’s venom pack, giving Bane a major case of withdrawal. Jason and Dick would remain out of sight, but they were allowed to jump in if things went wrong.

They had a plan.

Still it didn’t stop Jason from wanting to pummel Bane’s face as soon as he knocked Alfred into the Grandfather Clock.

He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive.

Jason almost didn’t pay attention to the conversation Bruce and Bane were having.

“You’d kill just to rule this city? Just for–”

“I’d kill for anything. I’d kill to silence a grating voice. To darken the light in eyes that dared look at me.”

“Then while you revel in it, Bane, I’m sick of death, sick of the blood, the chaos, and horror you’ve brought to Gotham– and right into my home.”

The alarm to the gate went off, but it wasn’t the intruder alarm. 

Bane tilted his head, “Two birds, one stone.” 

Bane started walking towards the garage, however, Batman maneuvered in front of him, “You hurt my father, I will not let you hurt my son.” 

And then Batman went ham. The only problem was, Batman was now trying to keep Bane away from the garage, rather than lure him to the Batcave.

Dick lightly tapped Jason’s shoulder, and signed, ‘ Alfred’s stache.’

Jason blinked, and made a finger gun with his hand, along with a baffled face.

Dick nodded, “Better than me, hit the pack. Not head. Faith.”

“This Bruce is gonna hate me so much.” Still, he crept towards the pantry, where Alfred hid a handgun in the big tubberware of dry black beans. Then he grabbed the cartridge of bullets that was sealed inside the bottom of an olive oil tin.

Everyone except for Bruce knew they were there. Along with the ones hidden in the stairs, and the one in the couch of the study. They were all handguns, and Jason knew Alfred preferred and used shotguns, so there were definitely more, but they would remain forever hidden.

He stuck to the shadows of the manor’s corners, creeping his way to the spiral staircase near the garage entrance.

A minute later the door opened, Jay carrying his backpack.

Jason tapped out, I-N-T-R-U-D-E-R G-O T-O C-A-R, in morse code against the railing. As if on cue, there was a clatter that sounded like a bunch of hangars being knocked over.

Jay looked in the general direction of when Jason was hidden, and nodded, quietly opening the door and slinking out. 

Almost immediately, Batman got thrown into the wall perpendicular to the door, but Batman springboarded off of it and punched Bane in the gut. Except it barely phased him, “Bane, this fight is between you and me.”

Jason lined up the handgun with the venom pack, and turned the safety off.

One clean shot.

“This fight isn’t between you and me.” Bane grabbed Batman’s arm and slammed him into the floor, “This fight is between me, and anyone who gets in my way. If the butler had fought back anymore, I might’ve just had to kill him.” 

Jason knew his aim started to drift. One bullet, straight through Bane’s temple. He kills Bane now, Bane will never kill Alfred in this universe. Alfred can stay immortal.

Straight through the temple.

Jason’s pointer finger curled around the trigger. 

A wrench hit Bane in the nose, “That was supposed to be your welcome gift. Sorry it’s second hand. I wasn’t aware we were having guest.” Jay came back into view with a tire iron in hand, “Hi, Batman, sorry I couldn’t be more courteous. If I had known you were visiting, I would’ve come home sooner.”

“Robin, he knows.”

“ Pulchritudinous.” Jay swung the tire iron, in a way that was very reminiscent of the way Dick swung his christmas, slid under Bane and wacked him in the balls with the tire iron.

Bane didn’t even flinch. Instead, he grabbed the tire iron, and bent it in half, “That’s what I’m gonna do to your dad. First, though, I’m gonna make sure you have a good seat.” He swatted Jay away with the bent iron, then fixed Jay so that he was properly sitting up.

Jason glanced from Bane, to Batman, to Jay, who was clutching his stomach, eyes wide in horror as Bane moved back towards Batman.

Jason shifted his aim once more, letting out a breath as his finger tightened around the trigger. As his arm took the recoil of the firearm. As the venom pack burst into an explosion of green goop.

Because he couldn’t kill him. Not in front of Jay, who might eventually learn that the only Jason who has survived came back merciless and inhumane.

Immediately, Dick came flying in with a kick to Bane’s face, pummeling him with attacks as the lack of venom caused Bane to go into immediate withdrawal, only stopping when Bane was knocked out.

Jason slipped out of the shadows of the staircase, flicked the safety back on, and started to disassemble the gun, just as Old Man Bruce walked in supporting Alfred, 

Jason handed the disassembled pieces of the gun to Alfred, “I shot the hell outta that guy, huh.”

Dick huffed a laugh, and Jay looked a little confused from where he was propped up by, “Isn’t that from a video game? The one with the Zombies? Tim and Ives play it sometimes.”

“It’s a meme in our universe.” Dick held out a hand for younger Bruce, “Still comes from the video game though.”

Younger Bruce accepted the hand, and started pulling himself from the floor, “Jason, are you hurt?”

Jay shook his head, “I’m good.'' Then he tried to get up, and winced, “Maybe a coupla bruised ribs. Nothin’ too bad.”

Older Bruce shifted Alfred’s weight towards Jason, and went to carefully help Jay up, “Bruised or broken?”

Jay opened his mouth like he was about to let out a snarky reply, but paused when he looked at Bruce’s face. Then he took a slow breath–it wasn’t deep, but it was slow, “My lungs feel fine. If that’s what you’re asking. So if they are broken, it’s probably just a fracture.” Jay placed his hand on top of Bruce’s. So Bruce could subtly feel for a pulse, “I’ll be ok.” 

Younger Bruce peeled off his cowl and limped over to Jay, planting a kiss on his head. “Ok.” Then he turned to Jason, “Since when have you known to shoot?”

Jason shared a look with Alfred, and then looked to Jay, “Did this ignoramus send you to Ma Gunn’s School for Crime, too?”

Jay snickered and then winced, “Don’t make me laugh, it hurts. World’s greatest detective here.”

“What’s next, you know how to make poisons and assemble bombs?”

Jason gave him a bemused smirk, “Yes. I do.”

Bruce looked like he was about to say something when Jay’s phone began to ring. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and grinned at Dick, “I think your big brother instincts are goin’ off.”

Dick frowned, but then his eyes widened, and he buried his face in his hands, “That’s not why…”

Jay picked up, and there was the Facetime sound, “You better start shopping for a Tux, because Kori and I are going to be needing a ring bearer.”

Jason felt his jaw drop to the floor as he whipped his head towards his brother Dick, whose face was still buried, but his ears were red in embarrassment.

How did Jason never know that Dick and Kori were engaged? And he was friends with Kori. And Roy. Hell, Tim could’ve told him. Or Bruce. They’re all apostates.

Alfred seemed to be the first one to recover, “Congratulations, my boy!”

“Thanks, Alfie!”

“You asked Kori to marry you?” Jay seemed just as surprised as Jason was, “I owe Donna so much money.”

“That you do!” Donna shouted from the background.

Younger Dick laughed, “You know what, I’m too happy to be annoyed you two bet on my love life”

Jay was grinning from ear to ear, “Tis the best form of entertainment.” If it was possible, Jay’s smile turned even bigger, “Before you know it, I’ll be an uncle.”

Younger Bruce grunted. Which Jason translated to ‘ I'm not ready to be a grandfather yet,’ but then he tacked on, “I’m proud of you, Chum.”

“Thanks Bru– Holy shit, what happened to you?”

“February.” Bruce didn’t care to elaborate.

“Right, there was a massive Arkham break. Are you guys good over there?”

“That was our last Rogue. And this Robin is making like its namesake and taking a vacation ‘till spring.” He paused, “I should probably tell Spoiler.”

After Bane, things were pretty quiet. And with said quiet, and the fact that they still haven’t been thrown into a new reality for an entire week (new record! yey!) they were finally able to start on a prototype for the beacon.

Though it was mainly Bruce, because he’s a control freak. Other Bruce was Batman-ing even though he had a shattered arm and sprained ankle from Bane. Alfred was resting, and the only reason for that was because Dick and Jason promised to help Other Bruce if he needed it. 

And Jay put Robin to the side just like he said he would, focusing on school and the SATs and the musical. Like a normal teenager, doing normal teenage things. 

Also, apparently Tim and Ives were in Crew for the musical, and that's how Jay knew them. Small world. Or Tim’s stalker tendencies were a lot higher than Jason assumed.

Dick and Jason just finished a round of sparring when Jay came down, backpack in hand. He sat down at the table across from Bruce and pulled out a spiral notebook, a note packet, along with a textbook, and a red, a blue, and a black colored pen, plus a highlighter.

“No way. You were that kid?”

Jay looked up and frowned at Dick, “What D'ya mean?”

“The type who always had perfectly aesthetic notes in class.”

“No.” Jay shook his head “My class notes are usually written in pencil and looked like chicken scratch.” He held up what was written in his notebook, “I’m studying for a physiology test I have friday. Black’s the normal stuff that I remember, Red’s the stuff I don’t, or super important things, and I use the blue and the highlighter to put little annotations of my notes in the margins.”

Old Man Bruce looked up, “Jason uses that method to write up mission reports. You know that, Dick.”

“I guess I didn’t expect it to come from a studying method.”

Jay just shrugged and went to flip through the textbook, and his notepacket. Jason didn’t miss the fond look Bruce had on his face.

Dick and Jason started up another round.

For a bit the only sounds in the cave were Jason and Dick’s feet scuffing across the floor, and the slight clicks of Bruce tinkering.

And then, “Your Bruce mentioned something about college tours.”

Jason faltered in his step, and Dick landed a kick to his gut. Jason grabbed the leg and pulled, but Dick twisted out of his grip and landed on his feet. They started circling each other again.

Jay glanced up from his notes and grinned, “Yeah, over break, we’re gonna visit Rutgers, Montclair, and Princeton, and then over April break, I’m going up to New York to visit the Titans and Dick, Donna and I are gonna check out NYU, and Columbia. Over summer break we were planning on visiting the UCs, Midwestern and more Ivys, but I have my eyes on Columbia, and I will get in.”

Jason attempted to sweep Dick’s feet, but he jumped and called out, “Nerd!”

Jay turned towards them and stuck out his tongue, “Bold words for a dropout.”

Dick kicked the back of Jason’s knee, causing them to buckle, but he dropped into a roll.

Bruce hummed, “I thought you said you wanted to go to Princeton or NYU?”

Jay set his pen down and gave Bruce his full undivided attention, “Well, I do, and I’d still ecstatic if I got into them, but I’ve been thinking more about what I want to be when I grow up, not just what I want to do . And I don’t see myself being someone who wears a cape and fights crime forever , ya know? I think I’m starting to… outgrow the whole ‘fighting crime’ thing, but I still want to help people. And Columbia has a good Lit and Bio program, so I think it’ll be a good place for me.”

Jason completely stopped and turned towards Jay, “You wanna be a doct–AACk!” Jason turned to glare at Dick who just kicked him in the jaw.

“Yup! Just like Leslie and Grandpa Thomas. I’m thinking  of being an ER specialist, or family medicine, but time might change that.”

Bruce’s eyes started to shine, and what could only be a look of pride engulfed his face. 

This… this was a very cruel type of torture. Obviously he was proud of Jay too. The kid was living . He was older than any other Jason they had met. Bruce’s pride over the life Jason could’ve had, should be engulfing him like a hug. Instead it was wrapping around him like a boa constrictor.

He took a deep breath, “I’m gonna go take a shower and make some tea. Any of you want some?”

Dick lobbed a towel at him, “Would you hit me if I asked for hot cocoa?”

Jason snapped the towel at him, “I’ll smack you either way.”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.” Jay picked up his pen again.

Jason ruffled his hair, not waiting for Bruce to say what he wanted, and headed upstairs.

Jay waited to hear the door to the bathroom close. He knew Dick was farther off somewhere, but he would be out of earshot, “Why haven’t you legally revived him yet?”

Bruce immediately snapped his gaze back to Jay, “How do you know about that?”

“You’re not the only detective, remember?” He wasn’t going to tell Bruce about his conversation he had with Jason the other day. That would be rude. “I’m just saying, if you did, he’d probably choose a similar path as I have. Eventually.” It did take Jay a while to realize Robin wasn’t something he wanted forever. It’s been something on the fence about him since his Bruce made him take a break in April. If the vigilante life really was worth it, or if it hurt him too much just to help other people. 

Bruce hummed, “He’s never asked. I don’t want to over step.”

He looked to the ceiling of the batcave, “Your emotional incompetence hinders your ability to see what is in plain sight.” Jay leveled Bruce with a look, “Sure, I’ll tell it to you straight, but when have you ever known me to ask you for anything?”

Bruce tilted his head in a way that said there was that one time…

Whatever that means, “I mean, I could be wrong. That Jason has a half a decade of experience and trauma on me. He could be a completely different person because of it. But there’s certain things that have to have stayed somewhat the same, and I feel like Jason's… kinda like me from about a year ago. He’s expecting the rug to be pulled out from underneath him.  He doesn’t know where he stands with you, because you won’t tell him explicitly. I’m not like Dick. If– aw snickerdoodles, I’m about to tell you all my secrets. If I seem angry about something, I’m probably scared.” He’s honestly surprised Mr. World’s Greatest Detective hasn’t figured that out yet.

He could see the pieces fall into place in Bruce’s mind.

“I know this is going to be a completely foreign idea to you, but what if… you talked to him. With words. Not immediately, because he’ll figure out I had to hold your hand to get you to cross that street, but eventually. When the time is right.”

“How will I know when that is? Or if I’ll say the right things?”

Jay raised his eyebrow, “You’re talking about a cure to your emotional constipation? Turn off the logical side of your brain and just talk. Mean what you say and all that good stuff.”

Being dead is stupid . 

Sure, Jason has numerous fake IDs for various things, and he could get a GED using one of them, and then go to whatever college he wanted to. But he didn’t want to go to college as ‘Peter Thomas’ or ‘Jason Willis’ or ‘Todd Jackson’. He wanted an education. 

Jason Peter Todd-Wayne.

That’s the name we wanted on the diploma. Except Jason Peter Todd-Wayne no longer existed. So he couldn’t get a highschool diploma, or enroll in college, or go to med-school, or become a doctor.

And he’s beyond happy for Jay. He really really is, but envy and jealousy are fickle things that have seemed to consume Jason post-mortum.

He’s jealous of Dick who will always know Bruce like the back of his hand. Who doesn’t even have to look at Bruce to know when something’s wrong. He’s jealous of Tim who seemed to have snuck his way into Bruce’s life. Who will always somehow pick him up, while Jason seems to knock him down whenever they’re in the same room. He’s jealous of Cass. Because she will always be perfect in Bruce’s eyes, and Jason is the polar opposite from her. Meaning, to Bruce, Jason can only be the blood staining the walls of his house made out of gold.

He’s envious of Jay who still has it all. He still has his life. He still has the magic of Robin that

never seemed to leave any of his siblings. The magic that decided to abandon Jason. 

It doesn’t make any sense.

It’s not fair.

He’s not the only one who has died, so why is he the only one who lost everything and can’t get it all back. 

He can’t get his old life back.

He’ll never be able to be that kid who was happy to finally have a home. The one who was overjoyed to be able to learn again, and barely let himself think about the future because if he thought about it for too long, the insecure part of his brain would tell him ‘this isn’t forever.’

But it could’ve been. 

If he didn’t die.

He would’ve always had a home in the manor instead of being treated like an intruder every time he visited if he didn’t die. He could’ve had a family that welcomed him with open arms instead of a guard that’s always up

He should’ve never gone to– The Joker should’ve never– He should’ve never been– He should’ve never met–

He’s not supposed to be there anymore. He doesn’t fit anywhere anymore. He can blame everyone, he can blame himself, but at the end of the day it doesn’t change anything .

He would never be able to make Bruce proud because the Jason Peter Todd-Wayne who could’ve done that was dead. Or forever stuck in a warehouse watching an unphased face smoke a cigarette while his brain was being bashed in with a crowbar.

‘Could’ve beens’ suck.

He poured some milk in a pot on the stove, and some hot water in a kettle, then moved onto chopping chocolate. Then he grabbed Dick’s Superman mug, Jay’s Wonder Woman mug, and two china cups.

He debated only taking one cup and not making some for Bruce, but then realized that would be petty and Bruce wasn’t being intentionally cruel by being proud of a different version of him talking about college and dreams. 

If anything, it was kinda sad. 

Just like it was sad that Jason still knew that Dick liked his hot chocolate with extra sugar and a dash of nutmeg, because he said that’s how Haley’s Circus made it during their winter season. 

Just like it was sad that he knew Bruce preferred white tea after eight pm, with one teaspoon of honey and a splash of lemon, but he couldn’t remember why.

He couldn’t remember why.

He made hibiscus blueberry tea for himself and Jay, placed all four cups on a tray, and brought them down to the cave.

Dick was currently sitting at the Batcomputer, which had names of people known to have traveled different realities. Wally, and Dr. Fate. 

Jason set the tray down on the table Bruce and Jay were at, and grabbed his and Dick’s cups bringing them over to the Computer, “Doesn’t Tim have a speedy friend? The Imp?” 

Impulse. He died right before Jason’s last multiversal adventure. Another kid gone because they were given the responsibility of saving the world before they were even allowed to vote.

He was pretty sure the kid was back now, but still. It seemed like the number of sidekicks multiplied after Jason died, not went down to zero.

Jay was halfway through a sip when he made a face, “Tim has a speedy friend?”

“Well, not yet. Because he’s still in the future.” Dick swiveled around in the batcomputer chair and took his mug of Hot Cocoa from Jason, “Also, Tim’s the Robin after this guy.” Dick patted Jason’s shoulder.

Jay frowned, looking from Bruce to Jason, “But…what?”

Jason slightly shook his head.

Jay lifted his eyebrows once and crossed his arms, “After all that time I spent convincing him not to follow us around with a camera at night, all he does is lose the camera.” he grumbled, “When did Tim become Robin?” 

And here’s the thing about Jason. He’s not as brash as most people make him out to be. He survived on the streets for a while. Most people don’t know immediately when he’s angry, because if they did, he would've gotten himself killed on the streets. Most of the time he’s been outwardly angry, he’d really been… scared.

Point being, Jason knew himself. And he knew the curiosity Jay was putting on had an undercurrent of incredulity. And he really wasn’t in the mood to go through the whole ‘ Why was there another Robin after the last one died?’ thing.

Jason slid into the chair beside Bruce, so he was across from Jay, “Halloween. Oh! Would ya look at that? Flashcards.” he reached over to grab them and started shuffling, “If you get anything below a 95 because you were too busy yapping with us, I will be very disappointed in you.” 

Jay rolled his eyes, “You tryna live vicariously through me?”

Jason didn't dignify a response. Instead he skimmed through the flashcards to figure what Jay was studyi–

Oh.

Cancers.

Well, too late to back out now. “Alright, how do you wanna do this? I give you the name and you tell me the symptoms, and the group it falls under?” He flipped the deck around so that Jay could only see the 

“I was about to say how creepy it is how you know exactly how I think, but then I realized you’re me.” Jay took a sip of his tea and motioned for Jason to ask away.

They got through a bunch. Almost half of the 120 flashcards Jay had created. Because of the 120 different types of cancer. And they both knew the card was coming. Still it didn’t stop them from freezing when Jason pulled out the card that had Osteosarcoma written out in all caps.

It was the type of cancer Mami had.

Of course, Jason didn’t actually know that until he had come to live in the manor. When she had first gotten it, he was still too young to fully understand what was going on. Why when Mami went to go pick him up, he heard a slight snap and she immediately set him down. Or why she was constantly placing heating pads on her upper arms. But by the time he was six, he knew she was hurt. Because he remembers having to stay with their neighbors some nights, because the next time he saw Mami, she was in a hospital bed. By the time he was seven, he knew she was sick. Because sometimes after their trips to the library, they would go to Gotham General and he would curl up into Mami’s side while she read to him. As she slowly lost her hair and her figure grew frail.

But she couldn’t get Chemo for long, because Papi went missing, and he was the one paying off their medical debt. And she had to make due with the cheapest medicine available. Painkillers.

From Ibuprofen, to Naproxen, to Gotham-made Hydrocodone, and Morphine, and eventually Heroin. In the end, who knows if it was the tumor that metastasized or if the painkillers were laced with fentanyl.

Well, it was the fentanyl that killed Mami, Bruce showed him the reports after he freaked out on Two-Face, but it could’ve just as easily been the Cancer that had gone untreated.

He didn’t know that growing up, but there were so many similar stories, he figured out during his time as the Red Hood. People who were in debt, who needed proper medical attention, but could afford it. So they turned to painkillers to save them from the pain. It was Gotham though, so of course the harder stuff was going to be laced. 

Jay frowned, and shifted in his seat, so he was hugging his leg, head resting on his knee,  “It’s a sarcoma, so bones, but not a myeloma which comes from the bone marrow. Usually it occurs at the ends of your bones, because those are the growing parts. The metaphyses. The most common places of development are the femur, the tibia and the…humerus.” Jay suddenly found the string to the teabag very interesting, “It can also occur in the pelvis, skull and jaw, most of the cases are of people under the age of 25, but the average age is 15. For causes… Genetics, uh, lack of blood to bone tissue– bone infarctio n. Rapid growth, like…puberty, and exposure to radiation, because radiation’s fun for everyone.” He flicked the W on the mug three times, “And symptoms are like most bone cancers: pain, swelling, pain with movement, unexplained fevers, and bones that break with simple movements.” 

“Nailed it.” Jason leaned over and flicked Jay’s curls with the flashcard, “But you still have…” Jason flipped through the cards, “32 more.”

A slow smile creeped on Jay’s face, “Easy peasy.”

The next couple weeks passed by. Jay made true to his word of staying in bed all of February break, except for rehearsal and the college tours he and younger Bruce planned. So, mainly, he stayed in bed over the weekend. 

The day they were supposed to leave to visit Princeton also happened to be the day it snowed 16 inches. And Jason didn’t like the snow. He hated it , but over the years it’s become more bearable, and sure, Alfred had recovered from Bane’s attack, but he decided to shovel the snow for him.

It was also four in the morning, and he had woken up from a nightmare, but that's besides the point. He was just doing something nice for Alfred. That’s all. 

It wasn’t even a nightmare about his death or any of the actually traumatic things that had happened to him, like dying, or crawling out of his grave, or the things he saw on the street.

It wasn’t even the new nightmares he’d been having of himself dying in different ways, but from a first person point of view.

No. The dream actually started off nice. Him and Mami were reading together, and Papi was there playing Billy Joel. Then two shots rang out, and Jason expected himself to be dead. But he wasn’t. Papi was on the floor bleeding, and he tried to stop it, but he wouldn’t stop bleeding. Then Mami pulled him into her arms, and he held onto her as tight as he could. But she was slowly getting thinner and thinner, until all he was hugging was a corpse. A skeleton.

Then he was running, and he was running through their apartment building trying to find someone, anyone, but each apartment was just a different dead Jason. 

Until he got to an empty apartment, but when he got in, the entire room had mirrors on all sides, and he was withering. Just like Mami had. Getting thinner and thinner, hair and skin peeling off, slowly revealing a skeleton with the most messed up bones. 

He focused on the repetitive motion of scooping up the snow and throwing it to the side. Ignoring the numbness spreading in his knees and hip, and ignoring the way his fingers started to lock up from the cold. 

It didn’t take long for Bruce to join him. Older Bruce, by his gait. 

They shoveled in sync, one after the other, falling into a rhythm. He absolutely refused to let his mind wander to the dream he had, so he fully switched gears.

He could totally see Jay becoming a doctor. Honestly, Jason would’ve done that just to spite Dick and Bruce for dropping out of college. Obviously, he can’t, though. Because Jason Todd doesn’t exist but–

“Jason.” He ruined their rhythm and looked at Bruce. He’s been looking at him in that way he had been recently. Like he was looking at the barrier they had placed between each other, wishing to tear it down, “If you still wanted to go to college, you still could.”

Jason froze, because when did Bruce become a mind reader? Jay and Younger Bruce were going to visit Princeton, so they were just thinking of the same things. That’s all. 

“Well, you would need a GED, though I could help you with that if you would like.” 

Jason didn’t dare look at Bruce’s face. “You don’t get it.” There was a knot forming in Jason’s stomach. Or, maybe it had been there all this time, and Bruce dangling the idea of something he’s wanted for so long, but could never have, made him feel like a fish who was about to eat bait and end up as someone else’s dinner.

“I suppose I don’t.” Bruce stopped shoveling and stretched out his back, “Otherwise I would have asked you this sooner. I was… afraid, in asking, I would drive you away, and hoped you would come to me in your own time. And I have realized that the card was never really visible on the table for you.”

“No, Bruce, that’s not–” Jason stopped shoveling, “I don’t want to go to college as ‘John Doe’, or whatever alias.”

“And I want you to go as Jason Peter Todd-W–” Bruce cut himself off, “I want you to go as Jason Peter Todd.”

Jason gave him a deadpan stare, “Dead kids don’t go to college.”

“And if said child was legally revived?”

He blinked, “What?”

“I’ve had the paperwork ready ever since you came back. I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t really sure where we stood, though you’ll always be my son. Your death did not change that, and I am sorry I haven’t made that clear.”

“I’m– you’ve had the– what?”

“You don’t have to make the choice right now. We still have a lot of time before we return home, and even then, you can wait as long as you would like, but, um, I just wanted you to be aware you had more options, and no matter what you choose, I’ll be proud of you, because at the end of the day, I will still have you. That’s what’s most important.”

He felt something loosen up in his chest. All the hopes and lost dreams he had collected in the manor and crumpled up after his death were suddenly being reopened. “No strings no nothin’?”

“If I had things my way, I would ask you to never leave my sight, but I’ve realized I am incapable of controlling any of you, so no.”

“Are– are you real?” Jason poked Bruce’s shoulder to find he was really there. Jason was never one to hallucinate though, “Are you… an imposter? Because wouldn’t me coming back to life be suspicious? It would jeopardize our secret identities and–”

“Jason. Since when have you known me not to be prepared?”

“Literally a couple weeks ago when we were actively being pinballed around the Multiverse.” 

Bruce looked like he didn’t want to talk about that, “Well, I have been planning this for five years, and have 10 different contingencies and cover stories we could use. I can show you once we get home. Again you don’t have to decide right away.”

“Yes.” 

It was Bruce’s turn to reboot, “Yes?”

“For crying out loud, yes.” He felt like jumping up and down and pulling Bruce into a hug, but he didn’t because they’d probably slip on the driveway. “I feel like Pinocchio, yes.”

Jay really didn’t feel like getting out of bed that morning. He was barely able to fall asleep the night before. The throbbing in his knee had made it impossible to ignore the pain, but he couldn’t get his knee comfortable without making his ribs flare up, even though they were wrapped. Maybe he should’ve marked all those flips during rehearsal instead of doing them at 30%.

Though, the other reason he didn’t want to get out of bed was because it was cold. Because of the manor’s size, it did a poor job at retaining heat during the winter, and he was all toasty under all of his blankets. Once he got out from under his blankets, he would be reminded of the cold, and snow, and his first winter on the streets, and–

Yeah, no, he’s getting out of bed.

But all he could get himself to do was stare at the ceiling. He wasn’t even focusing on anything– just head empty.

No. It was not going to be one of those days where he just went through the motions. He wanted to remember today. He was touring Princeton for christ sake.

Bruce said he could drive. He can’t drive if he’s dissociating.

It’s not currently snowing in Princeton. He checked the weather the night before.

If he doesn’t start moving, the weight of everything before this moment will come crashing down on him and he won’t be able to do anything. 

It happened during the end of June when he was done with all of his finals and he didn’t have anything to distract him, so he just… powered down. He was stuck in his bed and either his mind was on a loop of some horrible thing that had happened in his life or his mind wasn’t there. Then Bruce offered him back Robin, along with the rule that if you need a break, you take a break and that’s not just for if you’re sick or injured.

But every time that Jay takes a break from Robin and he has nothing to distract him, something inside him shuts off. It happened towards the end of august, but it didn’t happen when he took a break to study for midterms. Then he extended that break into the December Holidays, and boom– everything turned off.

Until Dick physically dragged him out of bed and then to New York where he spent time doing holiday activities with the Titans. Then he got to talking with Raven, and she said it was just his body and mind finally feeling safe enough to turn off his fight or flight mode.

But Jay already gave himself the weekend to bedrot. He has stuff to do today. Places to be. He knows once he gets moving, he won’t stop, so he just has to get moving.

The giddiness of being– ha of being alive again, somewhat faded once they came inside and Jason’s fingers were next to useless, and his joints were throbbing. And with useless fingers, he couldn’t flip the pages of a book, so he was stuck with watching TV with Dick and Bruce as Jay and younger Bruce were out.

“I suggest we watch Mission Impossible.”

Dick and Jason both groaned, “Action movies aren’t interesting when you know you can do all the stunts.”

“They’re also predictable, and even though they up the stakes with each movie, you know Tom Cruise is going to succeed. Also, most of the time, the plot is just big explosions, gotta climb up this giant building with a side of a pretty lady.” 

Dick continued to scroll through the options on the TV, “Ugh, I’ve already watched all of these. I hate being in an alternate reality that’s a couple years behind ou–”

“Wait! Hold up, go back. No, the other way. Anne with an E?”

Dick whipped his head towards Jason, “You’ve never– shit, I forgot you were dead.” He clicked on the movie and grinned, “It’s an Anne of Green Gables adaptation.”

“Is it a good adaptation?”

“It was a good series.”

Jason ran a hand across his face, “They better not have ruined her.”

Dick played the first episode. They were about halfway through by the time Jay and younger Bruce came home.

“Oh! Are you guys watching Anne with an E? I love that show.”

Jason frowned and looked back at Jay, “But it’s nothing like the–”

“It’s a great show. Not based on any children’s book at all . Nope.” Jay sat in the armchair and pulled his knee to his chest, “Because if it was, it would ruin the books because it’s a lot darker than the source material. This show is great, because it’s not in any way related to Anne of Green Gables.”

Jason raised his eyebrows, and then thought back on all the episodes he’d been hating on because they took too many liberties. If he didn’t think about them as being an adaptation, he probably would really like the series. 

But then he’d start thinking the same way about other adaptations. Then again, this was pretty good, just different.

It was really good.

Jason’s eyes weren’t watering up when Mathew and Merilla officially adopted Anne. No way. It was definitely not because it hit close to home. No way.

He glanced over at Jay to see if he was having the same reaction– only to find him asleep. Honestly, Jason’s surprised he felt safe enough to sleep around them.

The college tour must’ve taken a lot out of him. 

Time went on, Bruce, Dick and Jason continued to work on the beacon, while Jay kept himself busy with the musical and school. Something about ‘Hell week’ and SATs. It was a big difference from the way Jason remembered splitting up his time during most of his years in the manor. Jay was more Jason Todd-Wayne than Robin. 

Soon Jason would be more Jason Todd-Wayne than just Red Hood.

He heard the rhythm of Dick coming down the stairs, except, Dick was currently at the bat computer typing up a code for the beacon… so–

“Who the fuck are you guys and what are you doing here?” Younger Dick got into a fighting stance.

Hold up, “Is that.. A mullet ?” Jason whipped his head back towards the computer, “Dick, did you have a mullet?”

Older Dick turned around in the chair and offered younger Dick an apologetic shrug, “I’m assuming your Bruce didn’t tell you. A robin is the first sign of spring. ”

Bruce looked up from the workbench, “It’s one bad night for some ART , chum.”

Younger Dick seemingly relaxed, but he definitely still had his guard up, and glanced at Jason, “Why are you taller than me?”

Jason shrugged, “Green Gatorade.” Jason looked back towards older Dick, whose ears were red, so he definitely had that haircut, “You had a mullet in 2017 and you tried to tell me that I would fit in just fine when we were in the 80s.”

“No comment.”

Younger Dick looked from Jason to Dick, “What, were you not around?”

“ I was actually not around.” Younger Dick’s face contorted in the way it does when he’s upset with Bruce– Oh right, Jay told Dick about Bruce firing him from Robin and about being scared of being kicked out, “Because I was in a coma.” 

Younger Dick paused, “What? For how long?”

“Um… that’s a great question.” Jason did a little bit of math, if he woke up on Halloween, and then Talia picked him up around May… “At max six months.”

That made Dick’s frown deepen as he slowly turned to Bruce, but older Dick cut in, “We don’t know exactly because Talia kidnapped him–”

“Oh my god, Richard, she did not kidnap me, I woke up, catatonic, and ran away from the hospital, and–”

“She found you and brought you to the league, technically against your will.”

“I was taking down league assassins on pure muscle memory, yet I didn’t attack her. That’s as close to self accord as it gets. Also, we’ve been to seven universes where she’s our mom.”

“You said we’ve been traveling to these universes because of the Law of Attraction. You probably thought of us being in a universe where Talia and Bruce were married.”

“I would not! Talia deserves so much better than Bruce.” Jason then turned to Bruce, “And I mean that full offense, Old Man. You have some major issues you need to sort through.”

Bruce looked up from the soldering bench, “What did I do?”

“You know what you did. Also, we’ve been too sappy recently. Where was all of this, say… five years ago? Huh?”

Younger Dick snorted, “You finally shedded the ‘ goody two shoes’ act.” 

That fully caused Jason to reboot, “Excuse me, goody two shoes ? You're –”

Dick’s phone chimed, and he pulled out his phone, “Speak of the angel. A snap. From Jason.” He glanced at older Dick, “Bets on what it’ll be?”

Dick gave a fond smile and shook his head, “I would say whatever book he’s reading, but he’s in rehearsal right now, so…”

“I bet he’s going to be studying, while they’re in the middle of a break.” Dick opened the snap and grinned, shoving the phone in Jason’s face, showing Jay, sitting on a set piece behind stage, knee to his chest, writing in an SAT textbook that was balanced on top of a stand along with a little line of text that said, “ Tim here, Jason told me to tell u that u guys have guests, so don’t, hehe, flip out”

“Give me that.” Jason grabbed Dick’s phone out of his hands, started walking out of reach as he typed out, “that was a horrible pun. And you call yourself a fan”

“Wdym?”

He started running because Dick was using his flippy moves to catch up, “I know you know.”

Dick ripped the phone out of Jason’s hands, “What in the world?”

Older Dick peeked over Dick’s shoulder, and then shot Jason a deadpan expression, “Seriously?”

“Terrorizing Tim is my favorite hobby.” Jason shrugged “You said he’s known about our identities since he was nine.”

Younger Dick started typing away, “But now he’s gonna think I’m terrorizing him.”

“That’s the best part.” 

“Why would I terrorize a 13 year old?”

“When I was 13 you literally told me that–”

“ I didn’t tell you anything.”

“ Ne nenene ne –”

Bruce let out a sharp whistle, “Quiet!”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” Jason and younger Dick looked at each other, “Stop that.” Dick covered Jason’s mouth, “Shut up, I’m older.”

Jason chomped down, and Dick immediately let go, “Are you?”

There was a moment when horror dawned on Dick’s face, but Bruce rolled his eyes, “You guys are the same age.”

“Yup, Jason turned 23, like, a month ago.”

Jason glared at older Dick, “You, absolute conniving, backstabbing two-timing whistle-blower. You’re supposed to be my brother and you deceive me like this? This is the single worst act of betrayal in my entire life.” 

“Holy dramatic younger brother, Batman.”

Maybe it was a dumb idea to take the SATs the same week of the musical, but when Jay registered in December, he really didn’t think it would be much of a problem. It just made the  most sense. In May, he had APs, in June he had finals, and yeah, he could always take them in August, but he still wanted to make sure he had enough time to retake the test in case he got a bad score. He also didn’t want to have to take the October SAT because it felt too close to the Early Decisions deadline.

So there he was at 8:00 a.m. on a Saturday at a school that was in the town over, because Gotham City High doesn’t offer the SATs at their school because of the possibility of a rogue attack. 

He felt his heart pound in his chest. His hands were sweaty, but his fingers were ice. He literally felt like this last night, and the night before. What even is this? He jumps off of buildings every night, and beats up pimps on a regular basis. Why does a silly little test have him square breathing?

Maybe all the adrenaline he’s had coursing through his body will finally catch up to him and he’ll have a heart attack and die.

Jay adjusted the compression sleeve on his knee, while going through the five four three two one method Alfred taught him for grounding.

He couldn’t give up just because he had an anxiety attack. Not when Jason looked so much like Papi when he said he'd be disappointed if he got anything below a 95. Obviously he knows Papi would be happy that Jay has an opportunity to get a good education. And he couldn’t waste that opportunity. He wasn’t going to.

He turned his attention to the proctor, and waited for the test to begin.

The beacon was up and running by Sunday and as a treat, they decided to catch the closing night Gotham City High’s production of Grease. Alternate reality Bruce, alternate reality Dick, and Alfred had been going to every single showing, and it was only right that they watched Jay perform, seeing all the hard work he put into it. 

It wasn’t the worst thing ever. It just… wasn’t the best. The kid who played Danny Zuko wasn’t a really good singer and slightly behind the beat while singing. Jason could see the girl who played Sandy (who played the part beautifully) eye twitching whenever they had to sing together. And maybe Jason was biased, but Jay, who played Doody, and the girl who played Frenchy definitely stole the show. He could tell from the crowd’s reaction. The girl who played Frenchy was a really strong dancer and singer, and Jay did at least one flip or crazy high jump in every high energy dance number he was in.

Jason can imagine how that happened. The choreographer asks, ‘Say, isn’t your older brother Dick the flying Grayson? Did he ever teach you how to do a flip?’  

Though, the way Jay flipped across stage gave no indication to the fact that he was Robin. They were heavier, with less bounce, and Jay acted like it took a lot out of him.

Younger Dick was the loudest person in the audience whenever Jay did a flip. It totally went against theater etiquette, but every time Jay’s grin grew wider.

All in all, it wasn’t the worst musical. Jason vaguely remembers the musical from the year before being a complete dumpster pile. 

The six of them waited in the lobby for Jay, and watched as the cast slowly emerged to greet family and friends. Jay was one of the last people to show, but he was talking with a mini Tim and a kid who Jason assumed to be Ives. Though the Ives kid seemed to break off with a wave and head to his parents.

Jay was on a path towards them, but he kept getting stopped and congratulated. And even though Jay was staying polite, it was obvious he was out of his comfort zone. 

“Oi! Mr. Superstar! Broadway called, they want their Blockbuster back!” 

Some of the tension seemed to drain out of Jay as he carefully made his way to them, avoiding anyone else that seemed to come his way by being entirely engrossed in a conversation with Tim, “...to say the words ‘thank you’ so many times in the past three days, I’m starting to feel like a broken record.”

“The main thing they’re complimenting you on, are your flips. Those were like, fours. At best.”

Jay frowned, “I’d like to see you do six flips, while singing and dancing. An entire week in a row.”

“I feel like I could.” Tim had a slight smile that seemed to say ‘I know the exact thing you’re trying not to tell me.’ which he does. Which is probably why Tim looked a little confused when he saw Jason, Older Dick and Older Bruce. Obviously they were in disguises, aka, Bruce and Dick grew out their facial hair, and Jason was pulling off the Clark Kent special, so really they were doing the bare minimum, but also, less is more. 

Tim stuck his hand out, “I’m Tim.”

Jason grinned, this was going to be so much fun, “And I’m Jason from an Alternate Universe.”

Jay facepalmed, “No he’s not. He’s joking. He’s my cousin.” Jay barely paused, searching for a name, “Peter. He can be a nuisance sometimes.”

Tim frowned, because he definitely knew Peter was Jason’s middle name, but went along with it, “You look like a Peter.”

Dick looked like he was having trouble holding back a laugh, “I’m Mark, I used to babysit Jay.”

Tim shook his hand, and turned to Bruce.

“I’m Noah. Willis was a friend of mine.”

Jason then butted in, “Aren’t you the kid who took the photos for the musical’s Instagram? They were really good.”

Tim grinned, “Thank you. It’s been a hobby of mine for a while now.”

Jason nodded, “I bet it has. You seem like someone who takes pictures of birds.”

He frowned, though it was in a what do you know sort of way, “There haven’t been any birds out in a while.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, “Whaddaya mean? I’ve definitely seen a couple today.” He glanced at Jay, who wasn’t even paying attention to their conversation. He was balanced on one leg stretching out his hamstring while zoned out on the wall behind Jason. 

Tim, being the little gremlin he was, shoved Jay over. Of course, younger Bruce immediately caught him by the elbow.

Jay steadied himself and leveled a look at Tim, "Your fervent, misguided sense of entitlement is stunning." Jay sighed, he pulled his keys out of his pocket, “I can’t wait for the three blankets and five pillows calling my name. Do you need a ride home, Tim? ”

“Actually, you probably have a plastic trophy with the title ‘ walking dictionary’ waiting for you.” Jay blinked, so Tim elaborated, “We have the cast party in like… thirty minutes. Remember?” 

“Oh. Right, forgot about that.” 

Younger Bruce frowned, “If you’re tired, Jay–”

“I’m fine.” He spun his keys, “We have enough time to hit the gas station. We’ll just buy a pack of Zestis or something.” 

“Would you like me to drive you two?”

Jay rolled his eyes, “I won’t fall asleep at the wheel if that’s what you’re insinuating.” He turned to Jason, older Dick and Older Bruce, “Thanks for coming. I know you guys have been busy.” 

“Anytime squirt.”

 Jay turned to younger Dick, “Are you leaving for New York tonight or tomorrow?”

Dick opened his arms for an embrace, “Tonight. I gotta work tomorrow. April?”

Jay grinned as he returned the hug, “You bet. I already have a list of–”

Dick pulled away, “Alright, nerd, save it for later or I’ll forget come tour time.” He turned to Tim, “It was nice to finally meet you, by the way.”

Tim grinned, “We actually have met before this, but yeah.” He looked at the group as a whole, “It was nice meeting all of you.”

“Bye guys.” Jay limped slightly on his first step, but then caught a better rhythm.

Bruce being Bruce did catch the limp, concern spread across younger Bruce’s face, “Jason?”

“Yeah, D–dad?” Jay looked back, seemingly surprised at how easily the D word came out. He glanced at Jason in panic, before blinking and looking back at Bruce with hesitation. 

Bruce wasn’t expecting it either, based on his bewildered expression, like he had been handed a great honor of being called ‘Dad’. “Have fun, son.” The words flowed like water out of his mouth. Like that’s all he’s been wanting to say. “And drive safely. I don’t want to have to explain to the Drakes why their kid was in a car accident.”

Jay grinned “Puh-lease, I’m a better driver than Dick and you know it.”

Tim side eyed him, “You drive like a grandma.”

“Hush, little freshman. Safer is better than faster.” Jay took two more steps towards the exit, but turned back and surged towards Bruce, who immediately returned the hug, mumbling something into his hair. Something he couldn’t hear from where he was standing, but could see the way Alfred seemed to lock away the moment to treasure. The way younger Dick’s face flashed with something wistful, but then turned into a proud little smile. 

It twisted something in Jason’s stomach. Part of him wanted to look at his Bruce. Try to piece together what he’s thinking. The other part forced him to look anywhere else. Not towards Jay and Bruce, not towards his Bruce, anywhere else.

He turned to the wall Jay was zoning out on early, only to come face to face with a giant lavender cancer ribbon, with a QR code to a donation center. No wonder Jay was zoned out on it earlier. It probably reminded him of Mami.

He traced a hand over the silky fabric.

God, he hopes Tim and Babs get their signal soon.

Jay and Tim were currently sitting in the warmth of Jay’s car, sipping on their Zestis while waiting in the venue’s parking lot. They were about 15 minutes early, and the only person in there was the music director, who was nice, but one on one conversations with her were kinda awkward, so they decided to wait for more people to show up.

Tim was talking about gossip he’d heard while mic-ing up some of his castmates, and Jay was trying his hardest to pay attention, but he couldn’t ride the adrenaline high anymore. He was sore all over in addition to the ache that refused to leave his knee. He’s starting to think he seriously ruined something in it. Which was so dumb because he hasn’t been out as Robin in almost a month, yet this morning his knee was all red and slightly swollen. The compression sleeve apparently wasn’t doing its job.  

He rested the Zesti on his knee, letting the coolness numb the pain. If anything it made it feel worse.

Tim leaned back on the headrest, “So… your cousin. Peter.”

Jay groaned. He knew that bald face lie didn’t fly at all. “Ya know what? I know you know. Let's just stop pretending.” He really just… didn’t have the energy to come up with a lie.

“Well, there goes plausible deniability.” Tim took a sip of his Zesty, “There’s no way that was supposed to be you. He’s too tall.”

Jay massaged the area right below his kneecap, “He died when he was fifteen and then came back to life. Dick said he spent time with the League of Assassins and possibly took a dip in a cursed fountain of youth. So that's probably why he's tall. Magical growth hormones.”

“Fuck.” Tim looked out into the parking lot, “That seems like the lottery of trauma.” He turned back to Jay with a shit eating grin, “Maybe you should go for a swim. Grab a couple feet of height.”

“Don’t go shaming me for being short. Alternate reality Dick said you stop growing at 5 '6”.”

He frowned, “How would they even know me?”

“I dunno, Tim.” Jay still didn’t understand the logic of letting another kid be Robin after the last one died in the suit. (He snooped and found the comic books in Jason’s room, and he had said it was pretty much scene for scene how he died.) Obviously, he didn’t know the context behind most of the things that happened in their universe, and it was a lot, so he just… tried not to dwell on it. 

“Do normal Bruce and Dick know I know?”

Jay nodded.

“Can I see the batcave?”

He just side eyed Tim.

The next morning, Jason, Dick, Bruce and Bruce were all sitting around the table eating breakfast, when Jay came down with eyebags to rival Bruce’s and flushed skin.

He made eye contact with Jay, who’s eyes began to look glossy, but he blinked a couple times, before sitting in his seat. 

Well, Jay’s definitely sick, but not missing school for anything. He never did.

“Master Jason, are you feeling alright?”

He looked in the general direction of where Alfred was, giving him a slight nod, before looking back at his bowl. Jay picked up his spoon, and began pushing it around, when his eyes started to droop and–

Jason caught Jay by the forehead before he could face plant into his oatmeal. 

Then he frowned and placed the back of his hand to Jay's forehead, glancing at younger Bruce and then Alfred, “I think he has a fever.”

Bruce placed the back of his hand on Jay's cheek, “Hm. 100.7.”

Jay blinked lazily at Bruce, “‘m fine.”

“You’ve had a lot going on this week. Maybe you should rest.”

“I’m…” Jay trailed off, eyes turning glossy again, so he buried them in his palms, “I’m so tired.”

“I know. Alfred, could you call the school? And Lucius?” Bruce accepted a damp cloth from Dick, placed it around Jay’s neck, and smoothed back his hair, “Why don’t you try to finish your food and then you can go back to bed.”

Jay just nodded and picked up his spoon.

Jay’s fever was slowly rising throughout the day, causing younger Bruce to slowly become more and more frantic because Jay refused to take any form of medication. Now that Jason really thought about it, despite the couple times he has gotten sick, he’s never gotten a fever while living in the manor. 

Currently, Jason was trying to read, but younger Bruce was looking through the shelves that held Thomas Wayne’s old medical textbooks, but they didn’t seem to have what Bruce was looking for. He pulled out a couple herbology books and went to sit in the armchair closest to Jason.

“Bruce, Alfred already gave Jay pansy tea with ginger and lemon.” That’s like, the first natural remedy you find on a mommy blog.

“His fever is at 102.6, now.”Still Bruce continued to flip through the pages, “When Dick was younger, his fevers never got this high. He’d take the ibuprofen and be better the next day, but Jason just won’t take it. I tried, Alfred tried, even Dick tried.” Bruce suddenly had a look on his face that meant he had a Batman idea. 

Jason threw his pack of post-its at Bruce, “Don’t you dare drug him. He’ll immediately know and then won’t trust you, and then he won’t eat anything for the next couple days, and that’s worse.” Bruce buried his head in his hands.

Jason closed his book and rested his elbows on his knees, and his head in his hands, “Do you have those single seal packs?” He knew the answer would be no. In a family of vigilantes, it’s easier to buy painkillers in bulk, which always makes something twist in Jason’s stomach. The bottles are easier to lace with other substances. Though the single seal ones are more expensive. 

Bruce stood up and looked at Jason, “Do you think he will take them?”

Jason thought about it for a moment. The single seal painkillers were the only type he kept in his first aid kit, but most of the time it was Dick, Tim, or Steph using them. The only time he’s taken them was that one time he got sepsis, and it was a joint effort from Steph and Dick to actually get him to take them. “I’m not sure… but he’s more likely to take them with the sealed packaging. I could try to convince him, but I’m not gonna push it.” It would be pretty hypocritical. 

Bruce was already gone. 

So that’s how Commissioner Gordon feels.

Jason picked his book back up and continued reading. Not thirty minutes later, Jay limped into the library, wearing his blankets like a cape, and he sat down right next to Jason, using him as a human shield, from Bruce who was on his tail.

“Jason please, if your fever gets any worse, we’ll have to–”

Jason motioned for him to put the medicine and glass of water on the table. Bruce relented, and to his credit, didn’t complain, when Jason waved him off, but Jason was certain that he was going to sit outside the library doors. 

Jay sighed in relief, “Finally. Some me time.”

“Uhuh, and what does that make me?” Jason asked while flipping a page.

Jay frowned at him, but apparently didn’t see the give Jason a response, so he continued to read. He could feel Jay’s eyes on him, but considering how sick he currently was, Jason assumed he zoned out, “Did you overheat over there? Maybe three blankets are too many.”

Jay kicked off two of the blankets, and immediately started shivering like a chihuahua.

“Jason, I need a response. If a fever gets too high, it can cause brain damage.”

Jay pulled his blanket around himself tighter, “Shuddup– you’re not real.”

Jason was about to retort back with an ouch, I feel pretty real , when a smaller shivering Jay superimposed onto Jay’s shivering figure. One, who in his last moments thought that Jason was his Papi, because he was so out of it.

So… Jay probably thought he was a hallucination. Though his fever wasn’t high enough for one. It was, however, high enough for confusion, and he’s not going to actively pretend to be Papi, but he wasn’t going to correct Jay until he explicitly said something about it.

“You should take the medicine. It’s the good kind too. Name brand and all that.”

Jay shook his head, “No.”

“Ok.” And yeah, maybe Jason eased up way too quickly, but he could always go back to that point. Or use reverse psychology. Whatever makes more sense in the moment. 

He continued reading, while Jay continued to shiver and stare, “What book are you reading?”

“The Chronicles of Narnia.” The spine was worn, not too much, but that perfect amount where you could easily flip the pages. It was a hardback, and there were post-it notes on the pages that his favorite scenes or lines were on. “I know it’s more of Mami’s thing, but would you like me to read to you?”

Jay nodded.

Jason flipped back to the beginning of ‘Prince Caspian’ and started to read out loud. Three chapters in, Jay started listing towards the side, until his head brushed Jason’s shoulder, and he shot back up in confusion.

Jason rolled his eyes, “Yes I’m real. You should probably take the medicine if you thought I was a hallucination. It’s in single seal packaging, so it’s unlikely that it’s been tampered with.”

“No.” Jay grabbed one of the pillows on the couch and placed it on Jason’s lap, before resting his head on the pillow. “Continue reading.”

So he did, and he found himself carding his fingers through Jay’s hair, just like Mami used to do with him. Now that he thinks about it, he thinks they read the entire Chronicles of Narnia while Mami got her chemo. He was young at the time. He only really remembers reading the series in the manor, but every time he reads the books, something melancholy settles in his chest. He always thought it was because the Pevensies died, but… maybe it’s because it reminds some part of him of her.

He heard Jay’s breath catch, and nothing really exciting was currently happening in the book. Then it hitched again and–

Oh shit, he was crying. Jason made him cry. Bruce is gonna kill him. But also, Jay’s fever was probably up to 103 by now, so it could hardly be Jason’s fault.

“What’s wrong?”

Jay sniffed and wiped the tears from his eyes, “Nothin’.” He took in a shaky breath, “I was just thinking about Mami.” it came out pretty even, and Jason was about to start reading again, when Jay just started sobbing.

Fuck. What was he supposed to do? He wishes Dick was here. He’d know what to do. Jason rubbed little circles into Jay’s shoulder, “Hey, it’s ok. I still miss her too.”

“No– It’s not– you don’t–” He started sobbing harder, “I’m sick .”  

Jason pressed the back of his hand to Jay’s temple, “I’m not Bruce, but I’m pretty sure your fever has continued to rise.” 

“Fuck.” Jay looked like he was about to say something else, but he sat up abruptly and grabbed the box of Motrin. He wiped the tears from his eyes, and carefully inspected the box for any indication it could be tampered with. Then he set it back down on the table, rubbing the palm of his hand into his knee.  “I’m really sick .” His eyes began to water again, “I don’t– I can’t– not like Mami.”

Jason focused on the small little box on the table, “It was only bad when it didn’t come from a safe place. Bruce probably got that from a fancy Bristol CVS. And the fancy Bristol CVS had to get it from Texas. On an FDA-audited cGMP-certified site. It’s not Hydrocodine, and it’s only this once. Just to bring down your fever.”

Jay stared at Jason. Like he was debating telling him something, but then his expression hardened, “You don’t get it.” He sniffed, “Of course you don’t get it. She wasn’t your mom.”

It was scathing and did its job at picking at the scab wound that Jason never really had the chance to heal. It made Jason want to spit back a retort equally as cruel, “She might not have been my mom by blood, but she also raised me. And I know for a fact that she didn’t raise you to use her name in a vain argument just to get someone off your back because you’re anxious about taking a pill.” He stood up to leave, but paused, “I’m not forcing you to do or take anything, but I will say, if you don’t take the fever reducers, you’ll have to go to the ER.”

Jay seemed to pale at that, and eyed the box, “Can…can you stay?”

He rolled his eyes and sat back down, also staring at the box. 

He counted to 84 before Jay finally picked up the packaging again. 73 as he inspected the box once more. Then another 57 before he actually opened the thing. Jay slid the plastic tray that held the individual pills out of the box. Where he just stared at it.

Jason wasn’t going to rush Jay. Hell, it probably took Jason longer just to open the box when he had sepsis.

Jay took a deep breath in and broke off the little square. He held his breath for a count of eight as he peeled back the foil that sealed the tablet in, and breathed out on a count of eight while keeping his eye on the pill like it might explode.

Jason was square breathing right alongside the kid. And he wasn’t even the one taking the damn thing. He’s the least qualified person under this roof to be doing this. “You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to.”

Jay glared at Jason, and popped the tablet in his mouth. Panic immediately filled Jay’s face as he realized what he was about to do.

Jason grabbed the glass of water on the table and handed it to Jay, “Wash it down, wash it down.” 

Jay chugged the glass of water. Once he was finished with it, he leaned back and rested the glass on his cheek, like an ice pack.

Not two seconds later, younger Bruce walked in, “I’m so proud of you, Jay.” Bruce went to give Jay a hug, but he stood up and staggered out of the Library. 

Bruce frowned and went to follow Jay, but Jason grabbed his arm, “Stop hovering.”

“I’m not hovering.” Jason gave him a look, and Bruce sat down and sighed “Ok, fine. Though can you blame me for worrying?”

“Yes.” Jason was just going to leave it at that, but then he added, “He’s 16. He’s not going to appreciate you hovering. There are going to be times where he needs you like water, but if– hmm… it’s kinda like a plant. If you overwater it, it wilts, if you underwater it, it shrivels up. But if you water it the right amount…”

“It blooms.”

Jason nodded, “Usually, you seem to be doing a good job at riding that middle line of letting Jason know you’re there if he needs you. I mean, he did call you Dad yesterday– but right now, you’re overwatering. Wait at least 30 minutes.”

“Ok.” Bruce nodded, “That’s a really good analogy, by the way.”

“Thanks.” Jason grinned, “If you’re planning on writing a parenting book, quote me.”

That weekend, after his fever had broken, Jay let Tim into the batcave.

To start his Robin training.

Did Bruce know that? No. Did Tim know that? Also no. But the only thing keeping Jay from officially hanging up the cape was the thought of leaving Bruce without someone to protect his six. Obviously there was Helena Bertilini and Stephanie Brown, but Bruce didn’t trust them. Not in the same way he trusted him or Dick. And Selena mostly stuck to Crime Alley. 

He needs to have his affairs in order, and Robin was the biggest object. 

Jay probably would’ve chosen Stephanie to take up the mantle. She seems to have that Robin sparkle, and kinda reminds him a bit of Dick. Caring and kind, but not to be underestimated because she does have an aggressive streak. Not that Jay ever did underestimate her. But her dad did. And now he’s in Blackgate. She’d actually be a really good Robin, considering she's already out some nights fighting crime, and she’s proven herself to be really smart. But she doesn’t know their secret identities and Tim does.

Pros and cons. Mainly pros.

Jay has seen her a couple of times around school. Though he’s interacted with her more as Spoiler and Robin rather than Stephanie and Jason. She’s a year older than Tim, but he skipped a grade so they were both freshmen… “Hey Tim. Do you know a Stephanie Brown?” 

Currently, they were running a simulation under the guise of fooling around, but Jay was trying to assess where Tim’s skill level was currently at. Another pro about Tim is that apparently he’s been taking martial arts classes for a while, and was already pretty good at fighting. Not vigilante good, but better than your average person.

“Yeah. She’s in my geometry class– aw… shit!” a holographic mugger had stabbed him in the gut, causing the simulation to end for him. “And my world history class. What about her?”

Jay finished off the rest of the muggers and smirked, “Nothin’.” He made sure to keep his breathing even, “I was just tryna distract ya.” not quite. He put the name in Tim’s mind, and now, he’d keep an eye out for her. 

Tim gave him a deadpan look, as he flopped on the floor “For Gotham’s physical manifestation of hope, you sure are a dick.”

That made Jay grin, “All I’m hearin’ is that I’m great at my job. Almost like the original.”

“Please. With your sloppy ass flips, you’re not even close to being Dick Grayson.”

Jay carefully lowered himself onto the floor and brought his right knee to his chest, “At least a nine year old with a hyperfixation won’t figure out my secret identity.”

That seemed to get Tim to pause, and flip him off. “You know what will give your secret identity away?”

“If this is the point where you betray me, I’m going to kill myself before Bruce does with his lecture about trusting people.”

Tim clutched his fake pearls in offense, “Do you truly think so little of me? No. I was going to say your premature grays.”

That got Jay scrambling for his phone. When was the last time he touched up his roots? Wait– he did it the night before opening night, “You contemptible human splotch, I touched up my roots a week ago! This is why your parents don’t love you.”

“I’m an angel in my parents' eyes. They love me. Can you say the–” Tim cut himself off when he realized what he was about to say.

“The entirety of Gotham thinks I’m an angel.” 

Tim smirked and pointed up, “Angel Robin.”

He knew Tim was referencing Jason’s death, but it made something twist in his stomach. He shook his head, “What are you talkin’ about? He’s Jesus Robin. Duh.”

Jay was right about the whole ‘placing Stephanie’s name into Tim’s head so he’d hang out with her’ thing. Except he was right in the wrong way, because apparently Tim had gotten her snap and they were ‘talking’ . Tim ‘talks’ to a lot of people. At the same time. So that kind of makes things a bit messy… but it’s ok. He’ll work it out. Mainly, it’s for him to create a real world connection with her if she ever needs someone. Because he knows Bruce, and if it seems like Jay was close to her before he– no. He might not, he might– quits. Before he quits, he might trust Spoiler to be more of an ally. 

Hopefully.

So there Robin was, waiting on a fire escape in the Burrows that’s near a diner Spoiler’s known to frequent. He could’ve waited on the roof of her house, but that would be too intimidating. This way it’s more casual.

He heard the fire escape rattling above him and knew it was her coming down. Batman would be much more silent.

“Hi there Robin. I see you gotchur big boy pants on.”

“Thanks. They have pockets.” While technically, it was warm enough for him to go back to wearing the green shorts with flesh colored tights underneath, he was wearing green cargo pants to hide the compression sleeve he had on his knee. He still hasn’t told Bruce about it, and he intends to keep it that way until he has all his affairs organized. “I gotcha some waffles. Ya don’t havta eat ‘em now.” He handed the to-go bag to her.

“I’m not complainin’ ‘bout free food.” she paused and looked around, “Is the Bat with ya? Is this supposed to be a trap?”

“Nah, the Bat’s in Burnley.” He played with the straw of his milkshake.

 “Gotcha, gotcha.” She nodded, taking the box out of the bag, and lifted her mask over her mouth, “So, Boy Wonder, what brings ya here this time? Epic team up? Soon we’ll be more popular than you and your boss.”

Jay gave her a small smile, “Nah. I just wanted to talk with ya. I dunno, there’s not many heroes our age.”

“And how d’ya know I’m not… 37.”

He slurped his milkshake in response. 

Spoiler put her fork down and tilted her head in exasperation, “Robin, this is how you get groomed.”

He paused, “How old do you think I am?”

“I dunno, 12? 13? You’re kinda short for a 13 year old, though.”

Jay slowly nodded. He might’ve had a growth spurt recently, but he was still only 5’4”. “I’m older than you think, Barney. And, I know you’re around my age because Batman’s kinda a stalker. Sorry.”

She turned to look down over the streets, “Is that why you’re here? To apologize for your creepy old man’s behavior and then stick me in juvie for vigilantism?”

“That would be pretty hypocritical.” he dangled his feet over the edge of the fire escape, also looking down. If he was higher up and he fell, he would go splat and everything would stop. That would surely be easier. “And no, that's not the reason I’m here.” He dug out a slip of paper from his pocket. “That has my number on it. Batman doesn’t really trust you, but I do. If you ever need anything, whether that be better gear, someone to help clean up some bad guys, or just someone to talk to, feel free to shoot me a text.” He went to stand up, “You’re Robin approved. Don’t forget that.” And he grappled away.

According to Dick, something was off about Jay. Yeah, sure, maybe the kid was spending a lot more time in his room and lowkey self isolating, but “He probably wants some time to himself. We’ve been staying with them for over a month, and we’re practically strangers. Not to mention, he’s just getting over another fever.” It was weird. They happened within a month of each other. And Jason considered himself to have a pretty good immune system. He’d only get seriously sick, once every couple years.

Dick frowned at the plate he’d set down, “I don’t think that’s it.”

“Ok… then what do you think is off?” Jason placed the water pitcher in the center of the table.

Dick stayed silent as he gathered his thoughts until they finished setting up the table and then he motioned towards the porch. “Ok.” He started as soon as he shut the door behind them, “I haven’t talk to either of the Bruces about this yet, because it’s… it’s–” He clamped his mouth shut, and took in a breath through his nose, “Fuck, this is so much easier to talk about with strangers.”

So this was probably something really serious. Like, spilling things to a stranger is easy because you don’t know them, but as soon as you try to say the same things to someone you have a history with… 

Dick pursed his lips, “Ok, so, remember back in the fifth reality we went to, when, um, we were at your grave?”

“...yes?” That was honestly the second least traumatizing Death of Jason they’d experienced throughout their whole trip. “What about it?”

His knee started bouncing up and down, but then he straightened up, and stilled himself. “I’ve been thinking of something you said when we were there, and I was planning on talking about it once we got home, but now I feel like it kinda relates to what I’m feeling is off with Jay.” Dick looked Jason square in the eyes. The look was like steel, yet it was filled with so much apprehension, that Jason couldn’t break away. “You said you’re supposed to be dead . Which, I don’t believe to be true at all. You came back for a reason. A reason those higher entities who call you a mistake don’t even know, which makes them fear you.”

“Dick–”

“Let me finish. I’m not going to push this conversation now. I’m not going to push it if you don’t want to have the conversation ever. Just know I’m here for you if you need me. I’ve had my fair share of issues too.”

He looked out to the rose bushes that were still bare due to the late March temperature fluctuations.That… that was a lot to unpack, but he did say they could unpack it later, or never, so he focused on the bigger issue, “I… don’t think I see how this relates to Jason.” 

“Yes you do.”

“Ok, I don’t see why you’re asking me .” He shifted so his entire body was facing Dick, “I wasn’t able to be 16 years old. For all we know, they could literally be mood swings. For me, the highs have always felt like I could touch the moon, and the lows were like falling into the Mariana trench.” He drummed his fingers on the armrest, “I get you’re concerned, but also, Jay has goals that are a lot clearer than the dream I refused to let myself believe in before I died. He knows he has a place here. He wouldn’t give all that up.”

“You really think so?” 

Jason paused. The memory of why Gloria Stanson hanging in her room had felt like it ripped something out of him and shoved something in. Because there were certain parts of his time on the streets that he refused to remember. And her hanging there because of what Garzonas had done to her–

It forced him to remember.

And not in the way he remembered while running into the people he worked for. Those people had made something under his skin crawl in a way that had him scrubbing his skin raw.

Gloria had reminded him of it in vivid detail. And he remembered watching Garzonas fall, wondering if the splat would make everything finally stop so he could catch up. 

But they were just intrusive thoughts. He would’ve never acted on them. 

Right?

Intrusive thoughts are probably what runs through his brain the most ever since his dip in the Lazarus pit, but he’s never acted on them.

There was a knock on the door, before Alfred opened it, “Supper is ready, Masters.”

They walked back inside to wash their hands before sitting down at the table with Bruce, Bruce and Jay.

Jay who… looked thinner than when they’d first met. Whose eyes seemed to have bags that could rival Bab’s. Whose skin appeared to be dull, even though he’s been recovered from his second fever for a week and a half.

He looked to Dick, who was giving him a barely there ‘ see what I mean?’ look.

Jason piled some more food onto Jay’s plate, “You gotta eat more, kid. Otherwise you’ll never be as tall as me.”

Jay grimaced for a second before masking it behind a neutral mask, and turned to look Jason in the eyes, “You had a Lazarus Pit.” he pushed around some vegetables on his plate, “‘sides, I wasn’t plannin’ on it. Growin’ wrong sucks.” he barely mumbled under his breath.

Younger Bruce was talking to older Bruce, and Alfred, but Dick definitely heard, because some of the blood rushed from his face.

Jason looked back to Jay, “What? What do you mean?”

A flurry of emotions flashed over Jay’s face before settling on a glare, and standing up, “You’re an idiot and you don’t know nothin’.” and stormed out.

Jason pushed his chair out to follow, but Dick stopped him, “I’ll go.” and just like that, he was gone.

Younger Bruce frowned, “What’s the matter?”

Jason just shrugged, “Nothin’.”

Jay stopped, taking a break halfway up the stairs, heart pounding in his ears. Jason figured it out. Of course he figured it out. He knew he was going to figure it out first and that’s exactly why he’d been avoiding him. Now Jason was going to tell Bruce, and it was going to ruin all of his plans and they’re all going to treat him differently and–

God, he wants to be able to talk to Mami so bad.

He sat down on the stairs, rubbing the knot that was forming under his sturnum. Bruce was going to find out eventually. He just wanted to tell him about it once he had all of his affairs in place. He wanted to tell him when he was ready to.

Dick sat down next to him. Seemingly not keen on filling the silence with anything.

Honestly, Jay was pretty sure that Dick would’ve gone ghost for a couple hours after learning. At least he was sure that’s what his brother Dick would do. Then he’d come back and insist they watch a lousy reality TV show together. 

Honestly, this Dick was pretty diffent from his brother. Still the same person fundamentally, but a lot more mature. Which made sense, considering he was like… 30.

Jay held himself as stiff as cardboard. Waiting for Dick to say something like ‘I’m so sorry,’ or ‘We’re going to help you get better.’

“You know, you and Dick seem a lot closer than my Jason and I were when he was Robin.”

Jay shrugged, not knowing where this was going, “You’re a busy person. I get it. I’m pretty sure your Jason gets it too…” He pulled his knee to his chest, and turned his head to look at Dick, “I’m assuming he told you guys?”

Dick pursed his lips, “No. I actually told him, but we haven’t told Bruce yet.”

There was a short burst of relief that morphed into guilt, “Why would you tell Jason?” He placed his forehead on his knee. It’s rule number one of telling people about heavy experiences they’ve seen happen to their parents at a young age.

He could feel the guilt radiating off of Dick, “I’m sorry. I just… I wanted to make sure before I jumped to conclusions, and considering you and Jason have similar experiences–”

“We don’t? I mean, technically, genetically, we’re not even the same person.”

Dick paused, “Wait, what are you talking about?”

Jay lifted up his head, “What are you talking about?”

“I thought… you were depressed. Like… dangerously so.”

The knot under his sternum unraveled, “I don’t want to die! I wanna have a life. I want to live . God, I just started to actually let myself live, why would I give all this up on purpose?” If he had a choice he’d live a long healthy life, “Sometimes the PTSD catches up to me. That’s all. Bruce and I, we have a system for when things get harder to deal with. Babs is also working on a Therapy AI for the Justice League, the Titans, and any other heroes who might need it. I’m currently the Guinea Pig, but it’s helped me sort through some things. All she needs to work on is making sure everything stays confidencial and can’t be hacked.”

He could feel the tension dissipate from Dick, “Then what did you mean by ‘you weren’t planning on growing’. ”

He banged his forehead against his knee grasping for strings, “Growing bones suck.” he finally settled on. Cus they do.

Dick slowly nodded, “Growing pains?”

That… was actually a sturdy rope, “Yeah.” It would buy him the time that he needs and provide an excuse, “But also, I know I probably won’t grow much more. Maybe an inch or two. Childhood malnutrition’s a major setback.” and maybe if he wasn’t finally shooting up, his bones wouldn’t be as dilapidated. “It’s just been a busy couple of months, and I think everything’s finally catching up to me. I’m ok, though, and I do realize I could’ve worded that better.”

“I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions.” he laughed, “Some detective I am.”

“Yeah.” some detectives, alright.

Jay had just finished taking out some would-be rapist with Spoiler. He cuffed the unconscious man to the nearest lamp post as Spoiler consoled the woman.

Something was bubbling under his chest. It was dread, it was ire, it was– something inside him that refused to heal. That kept growing and growing and growing and–

He realized he’d fully zoned out while helping Stephanie walk the woman home, and now she was leading them to the old playground that had long since been known for child traffickers. 

They both sat on the two tire swings, in silence until Jay said, “Ya know, the first time I met the Bat, I was boostin’ his tires.”

She let out a surprised laugh, “What? You stole Batman’s tires.”

He offered her a tired smile, “Yeah. It’s not a story I get to tell often. Seein’ as, ya know, secret identities. He caught me of course. Cus he’s Batman, but I hit him with the tire iron and ran away. I didn’t even get all four.”

Stephanie was full on laughing at that point, “Now all I can picture is a scrawny little eight year old hitting Batman in the ankles and calling him a loser.”

“I actually called him ‘ a big boob’ . And I was twelve. Again, I’m older than you think.”

Stephanie tilted her head, doing the math, “And you’ve been Robin, for what, three years? You’re 15?”

“16.” He corrected, “I’ll be 17 in August.” Jay looked up to the moon. It was full tonight, and he bets the gravity of it was causing the throbbing in his knee to be unbearable, “It’s a pretty good retirement age, doncha think?”

Stephanie looked at him, “Jesus Christ you’re short.” She also looked up at the moon, “Ya know, there’s a rumor that Nightwing was the old Robin. Same flips, same jokes. Knows the lay of the land.”

Jay scooted the swing so he was a bit closer to Steph and whispered, “Between you and me, that rumor’s right, but don’t tell anyone.” he let go and the swing started rocking at an angle.

“So, you’re plannin’ on graduating. Gotta new name yet?” She timed the swing so that they were in sync, “Am I gonna see ya around, or are ya gonna leave for New York like Big Blue?”

“Nah, like I said, I’m retirin’. Hanging up the cape. I haven’t told Batman yet though. I just wanted to let ya know just so you’re not blind sided if there’s a new Robin after me.”

“I’ve never heard of a superhero retirin’.” They swung in silence for a minute, “Are you dyin’ or somethin’? Is this the last time I’m gonna see you?”

A low ringing filled Jay’s hearing, “Hopefully not.” 

“...To which question?”

“Madame Eggplant, your questions are startin’ to lean into the ‘too personal’ side.” He looked at the bench Mami used to sit at as Papi helped him on the monkey bars, “Besides, you have my number. If ya miss me too badly, just call.” He leaned his head against the rope, “I’ll try to see if my boss’ll let me spill the beans on who I am.”

“I think Gotham’s gonna miss you, Boy Wonder.”

He looked back to the moon with a rueful smile, “I’ll miss her too.”

Ok, so, Tim was coming pretty far in his training, Stephanie has his number and knows to expect a new Robin, so now all that’s left is to tell Bruce he’s retiring. Four week notice. His week with the Titans would be his official last week as Robin.

Now how he goes about that… that’s the real question. 

Currently they were busting a drug trafficking ring. Batman and Robin. The dynamic duo. As they should.

Did each kick send a throb through Jay’s leg? Yes. Did every flip make him want to crumple into a ball, cradle his knee tight to his chest and cry? Yes. Though he had a job to do. He could cry about the pain later. And who knows. Maybe it would just go away on its own.

He knows that’s not how it works.

Robin took out the last goon in his corner of the warehouse, searching around the place for any more threats. Batman was also done and cuffing up all the goons.

“Are you alright, Robin?”

Jay controlled his heavy breathing and nodded, “Yeah.” He walked over to the crates, making sure to keep the weight on both his legs even. 

He paused, hands resting against the closest crate. God, he was so tired . 

“Robin?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good, B.” but he couldn’t put enough strength in the words. They trailed off at the end. So he pulled a batarang out of one of his pockets and pried open the crate.

Explosives?

He walked around the crates and– “Bomb. Batman there’s a bomb. Twelve minutes 53 seconds.”

“Evacuate the building.” Batman threw an unconscious goon over each of his shoulders in a fireman’s carry.

Jay hoisted a dazed goon to his feet and encouraged him up, supporting most of his weight. And that was their system. Bruce carrying the unconscious ones and Jay dragging the ones who were barely there.

Except he could barely support himself with his bad knee, much less grown men who were double his size and weight. Still he pushed through. There were people’s lives on the line. They were only working these jobs because they needed the money. They didn’t deserve to die a fiery death.

His right leg was numb with pain, and his left leg buzzed in exhaustion. He could feel his heart pounding in his temples and sweat trickle down his neck.

This was the last person. He could see the safety of Batman’s cape in front of him, moving the victims further from the blast radius. He was almost there.

Then the world went bright behind him. He tackled the person he was holding to the ground, covering both of them in as much of his cape as possible.

A blast of hot–burning air– swept through his hair as the crack of the explosion caused his ears to ring. 

“ROBIN!!!”

Jay rolled off the goon as soon as he was sure the explosions were done, because he was 90% sure he was on fire.

A dark fabric kept batting at his head. 

Something wrapped around his upper arm, and pulled him up into a seated position, but he immediately pulled away. No way was he getting kidnapped. 

Then he looked at who was trying to help him.

“ Dad.” Jay leaned his head on the bat on his chest. 

Bruce wrapped his arms tighter around Jay, and planted a kiss on his forehead, “Don’t… don’t ever scare me like that again. Do you hear me?”

He barely could, because his ears were ringing, but he nodded, “Then you’ll be thrilled to hear that I’m handin' in my four week notice.” 

Bruce let out a sigh, “ Thank God.”

Huh. Apparently it wasn't that hard.

Ever since Dick told Jason that he had just jumped to conclusions, Jason couldn’t help but feel a surge of vindication, because of course he knows himself best.

Except, he knew himself best, and there was something wrong.

Obviously, the kid almost got blown up a couple days ago, but other than the singed hair, and fussing over how he can apply burn cream himself (which, makes sense), like Dick said, something was off . The weight loss, the dull skin, the visible exhaustion. It was like something was sucking the life out of Jay.

Nope. He’s not allowed to think like that. Positive thinking attracts positive vibes.

They were all currently down in the cave, debating on whether or not they should amplify the beacon’s signal, or just make their own interdimensional machine. They made the beacon because they didn’t expect to be in this reality for as long as they had been.

He glanced at Jay who was sitting on a stool, kneading the area right below his knee, seemingly zoned out. Jason backed out of the circle he, Bruce, Bruce, and Dick were in to lean against the table next to Jay, “You ok?”

Jay sat up straight, “Yeah. Just… growing pains.”

Jason nodded. He remembers having those when Alfred’s meal plan started to actually prove fruitful. He also remembers freaking out whenever his elbows ached because he was afraid he’d have an x-ray come back and show he had a tumor just like Mami. Obviously, that was before he realized he didn’t have a genetic disposition to cancer. Not like–

No. He’s probably over thinking. 

“If you want, I can show you some stretches I usually do when my chronic pain flares up.”

Jay frowned, “Right now?”

He shrugged, “If you want.”

Jay looked to where Dick and the Bruces were pointing out the pros and cons of building a new interdimensional machine when time could just be moving differently across realities. “Yeah, sure, why not.”

They moved towards the mats, where they started with basic standing stretches– hands to toes, heel to glutes, knee to chest– then the sitting ones– sit and reach, one while flexing their ankles and the other while pointing their toes. 

Then Jason instructed Jay to go on his knees for child's pose. A crackle came from Jay’s knee, as his eyes widened and he immediately shifted his weight to extend his leg in front of him.

That… that wasn’t the pop of joints letting out an air bubble. That was the sound of a bone breaking. 

But that was nothing– bones don’t break just by putting weight on them. 

Unless…

The weight loss, the exhaustion, the fevers, the bone pains–

‘I’m really sick’ ‘I can’t– not like Mami’ ‘she wasn’t your mom’ ‘growing wrong sucks’

He opened his mouth to call for Bruce, but a hand was suddenly clamped over it, “I’ll explain in the medbay?”

Jason hoisted Jay to his feet as gently as possible, while still being firm about it, closing the medbay doors behind them and hoisting Jay up onto the cot, “How long?”

Jay tilted his head, “Has anyone ever told you that you look a lot like Papi when you’re worried.”

“And you look just like Mami when she was sick.” he spat back, “Jesus, kid, how long has your damn knee been hurting?”

“I dunno…”

Jason crossed his arms, “You don’t know.”

“Ok fine. February.” He grimaced, “Maybe at the end of January.”

‘I have no wit, no words, no tears; My heart within me like a stone’

Jason felt the blood drain from his face, “That was two and a half months ago.”

“I didn’t think it was that bad until–” Jay looked at his knee and mumbled, “Until you read to me when I had the first fever.”

 “Ok.” He took in a deep breath, trying to keep himself from yelling, “Ok. You’ve still had about a month to tell Bruce or Alfred.”

“Well I’m so sorry that telling someone felt like it made this all real!”

“Ignoring a tumor doesn’t make it magically disappear!”  

‘Is numb'd too much for hopes or fears; Look right, look left, I dwell alone;’

Jay immediately shrunk at the words, “Well, we both could just be over thinking.”

“You know who’s great at looking at just the facts?” Jason went to open the door, “Bruce!”

“Wait, wait, wait! I just– I’ll tell him, but please , just let me do it on my own time. Please.”

Just then, Younger Bruce and Older Bruce rushed in, “What’s going on?”

Jason opened his mouth to just tell them. It would be the responsible thing to do. 

‘I lift mine eyes, but dimm'd with grief; No everlasting hills I see;’

But then he looked at Jay. Whose eyes were begging him to keep this one secret. Whose eyes were carbon copies of Mami’s.

Jay practically collapsed in relief, “I, uh, dislocated my knee, but don’t worry! Jason set it back in place…”

Younger Bruce’s concern deepened, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It… happened six minutes ago.”

It’s only been six minutes? He feels like it’s been six months. He feels like he’s gone sixteen years in the past.

Bruce turned to Jason, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He was up in his face, he was miles away. He looked back to Jay who was saying something, but Jason couldn’t make it out.

Older Bruce frowned, “Jason, are you alright?”

‘My life is in the falling leaf:’

He held eye contact with Jay. For a millisecond? For an eternity? Why wasn’t the kid answering the question? He was the one who wasn’t ok. He was the one who was sick– who had cancer. It was going to slowly grow and grow until it metastasized and killed him just like–

No, she died from the lack of proper care, and fentanyl and Bruce had enough money to get Jay proper care if he just told him . 

A hand brushed against his elbow, and he pulled away. He headed towards the drawer with the knee braces, pulled out one of the hinged braces, found a pair of crutches and placed them all on the cot where Jay was sitting.

‘O Jesus, quicken me.’

Then he left.

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

Thank you, angel...

What -- Following the events of S02's Chupacabra, you give Daryl a massage. The story begins with some discussion of post-concussive protocol for the poor guy to prep the stage for the chapter after his very bad day.

Relationships -- slow burn, canon-compliant Reader x Daryl and the two of you being closed off about possibly like-liking somebody. I mean, he doesn't even eat peanut butter!

Perspective -- You + Him

Pronouns - neutral

TWs -- some crude language

Length -- 6,000 words (15-20 minutes)

When -- a couple hours after "fondness" LOL. It starts off like nothing serious, then gets more tender, sort of like Daryl's muscles after careening down all those rocks.

Which chapters will provide more context? -- it's always good to check out the most recent chronological chapter, in this case "fondness" LOL. Spell your last name, please would be fun to read alongside this one, too. As well, I recommend reading Invisible tugging strings, Part 2 (also Part 1) and souls stripped bare if you like a bit of confused yearning.

Masterlist? -- Shiny and Official one here and Chronological one here

Him

The door opened, waking him up—the hell, where was he? How long had he been asleep?

“Hey,” the familiar voice he liked said, and his muscled relaxed.

Sure enough, there came Y/N into view, giving him a little wave as they walked around the bed. “Remember where you are?”

His memory came back to him quickly as he blinked the sleep away. He was in the farmhouse. 

Still, his sarcastic croak of a response, “In bed,” earned him a tiny huff and a dry “So funny,” from his friend, who carried along a big-ass book. 

Ugh, his stomach didn’t feel too hot. He’d, um, half-woken up a little earlier and saw crackers on a plate near him. And he’d been so damned hungry he’d just reached out, grabbed some, and slammed them into his mouth.

That there'd been peanut butter in between them had been a nasty surprise, except he’d already chewed and started to swallow by the time the taste hit him, he was that hungry. He was so hungry that he’d gone and grabbed more, too…dumb sumbitch.

Now the taste was all up in his nose and mouth. He curled up a little tighter, as much as his stiff joints and muscles and the new hole in his side let him. Daryl just wanted to sleep and for his stomach to stop messing with him, he felt ready to puke…

The old man’s voice met his ears next as he came around the bed, too. “I apologize. You have something of an audience. Carol and Y/N will be keeping an eye on you tonight, they’re in here now, as is Patricia.” 

Y/N frowned into their massive textbook, flip-flipping through the pages as if looking for a specific section. Carol sat across from the bed on the footstool thing and smiled in her sad way. 

Then, the nice twangy blonde lady (he knows her name, it's Patricia) started saying something and helping him sit up, but he wasn’t hearing a damn thing, because he w—he was—no, no, no, he was gonna upchuck—

____________________________

You

Daryl doesn’t look too g—oh, no! 

“Carol, hand me that thingy, please!” you squeak, standing up as the book clatters to the floor while you frantically point to the emesis basin on the dresser beside her.

You zip to the bedside and cradle the back of Daryl’s neck with one hand, the small container in the other, and not a moment too soon. 

“Whoakay, there you go, buddy,” you coo as the poor guy gets sick.

“Pat, please retrieve the oxygen tank from the boy’s room,” you hear Hershel murmur, and Pat is already up and moving. 

They have an oxygen tank?! That, that should’ve been administered an hour and a half ago when he stumbled back onto the farm!

With a final spit into the bowl, Daryl makes a slight groan and exhales. He grunts an apology, gags again.

You lower the basin so it won’t be too near his mouth (and nose), but wait remain for a minute or so with him just in case he’s not done. Lightly, you run your fingers across the back of his neck and up the back of his head as you wait. And not because you have taken a shiney fondness to him, Dale, you would do this for anyone, especially a friend who had a day like this one did. 

When he mumbles that he’s fine, you tell him you’ll be right back, and tuck the sheet over his back for him. You then excuse yourself to clean up, being mindful to hold your breath and not look at the basin so you won’t gag or need to use it yourself. Carol follows you into the hall but slips out the front door.

You empty and wash the basin in the downstairs bathroom and scrub your hands and forearms, and find some bleach spray to clean the sink.

Scrubbed good, you're ready to carry the cleaned container back into the room in time to see Patricia accessorizing Daryl with an oxygen mask. The ever-growing dread in your gut sprouts a new branch.

“Miss Patricia, Mr. Greene, what do we do next?” 

You hope it didn’t sound nearly as worried as you think it sounded. The first pre-hospital guideline for suspected traumatic brain injury is being put on O2.

Granted, ‘suspected’ encompasses pretty much any head bump for safety’s sake—but the man had a very serious fall twice. 

The reality that he’s not necessarily in the clear is now sinking in. 

How would you fix whatever Daryl did to his skull, if he did something? Drill a hole in his head or something? There’s no possibility of getting proper imaging, y'all don’t even have more sterile gloves.

Daryl’s leaning back, now propped against some pillows in addition to sporting the oxygen mask. He looks miserable. You kneel beside him and place your free hand on the bed. Carol joins you. 

“Oxygen will only benefit him, at the moment, even if there’s nothing more serious going on,” Hershel mildly puts it, cool as a cucumber with your EMT textbook open to the head trauma section. But then again, Mr. Greene had the skill to keep himself cool as a refrigerated cucumber while Carl was actively decompensating and dying. “The good thing is, Daryl is negative for any other indication of severe concussion, even moderate, which is surprising in the best way possible. Way I see it, it’s yet another medical miracle among your group.”

Next to you, Carol holds out one of her small tins and shyly says to Daryl, “Ginger?”

The way his eyes got all big like a kid’s was unexpected and rather cute. She pulls the mask away far enough to pop a ginger mint into his mouth. With a grunt, he closes his eyes in acknowledgment and gratitude.

“How do we know he ain’t—” oops, you mean to only use elegant grammar around Mr. Greene. Except, you don’t have a preset sentence in your head so it still comes out messy, but you do use the phrase Mr. Greene used yesterday. “How do we know that it isn’t, um, that h-his concussion isn’t a bigger cause for concern?” 

“Pupils are good, blood pressure is good, reflexes are good, and upon examinin' his skull, there are no irregularities beyond two what Hersh and I both would call goose eggs,” Patricia answers first, as chill as Hershel is. “He’s gotta be kept under watch for the next couple days, of course, but that's more a precaution.”

Mr. Greene nods. “Any more vomiting—”

“—I only hurled ’cause of the peanut butter,” Daryl muffles through the mask.

Because of the…

You squint. “How would peanut butter make you sick? You aren’t allergic.”

“Don’t like it.”

Doesn’t like…what? “Dude, you don’t like peanut butter?”

“Don’t even like the smell.” 

WHAT. 

Mr. Greene resumes what he was saying before you can continue the interrogation. “Do you have an appetite.” It somehow sounded less like a question the way he asked it.

Daryl hums in response.

“Good. Finish up what’s on this plate and we’ll see if you’re able to keep non-peanut related foods down.” Was Mr. Greene trying to make a joke? Well, at any rate, he’s removing the cracker sandwiches to leave just the eggs and spam. Daryl accepts the plate and whips his mask off, prompting you to turn the O2 off for now. A relieved groan follows his first bite and he eagerly digs in to get another forkful. Carol must be pleased.

Mr. Greene nods in thanks that you turned off the oxygen flow. “To answer your question: if there is any more vomiting, a bad headache, changes to his pupillary response or his blood pressure as well as any alteration to his speech and cognitive function, that would be a cause for concern.”

“And we won’t want him to go unchecked too long a stretch, so I brought y’all our egg timer," Patricia adds. "It’s digital, so it ain’t too loud.”

“Should we wake him every hour?” Carol asks, nodding and clasping her hands in her lap.

“Naw, that’s more myth. Although,” Patricia reconsiders. Sighs. “It ain’t like we have him hooked to a monitor in a ward staffed with nurses breezing in and out. Hersh, what’s your take?”

“You’re the nurse, I’m just the vet,” he reminds her. “It’s your call. What were you going to have them do?”

She sighs again but nods. “Might as well be over-cautious, then. Let’s do every hour and a half to check, but don't wake him. He needs rest.” Patricia breathes deeply, then gives the instructions.

“If you stick the egg timer under your pillow, it should wake you but not him. Sit up and make sure he’s breathin’ normally. If, uh, if he’s awake, ask him his pain level for his head, listen to his speech, see if it sounds normal, check his temp with your wrist. Acetaminophen, that’s Tylenol, that’s the only painkiller he can have right now."

Just Tylenol, got it.

"Ask him a basic question or two, check his eyes like Hershel said. Maybe have him tap his fingers together. And if his BP changes much in either direction, or especially if his headache gets worse than it feels now, which isn’t too bad so he claimed,” a pointed look at Daryl, “wake me. I’m in on the top floor, room to the center-left.”

“Do I gotta wear this to bed?” the man himself grates, his mouth full even while scooping in the last bite off his plate. The guy's definitely hungry, which is usually a good sign.

And the look he earns back from Patricia is enough to make you sit straighter and lower your head despite not being on the receiving end of it. 

Daryl stops chewing. 

“You do and you will,” she states. It wasn’t done in a controlling way, it sounded to you like simple tough love. “Might well save your hide if you’ve got a bleed, Daryl.”

“Yes ma’am,” he mumbles. 

Annoyingly, the way he displayed a healthy serving of shame/deference seems to have awoken some of the irrational butterflies in your stomach. The little creeps.

Hershel speaks to Patricia. “You know, I believe I still have a nasal cannula from when my mother was still living. It will be less obstructive to sleep—Pat, will the cannula be adequate?”

“Would be great—but how old is it? Your mama passed over a decade ago.”

“Then it’s well over a decade old,” he answers, and quits the room in such a way that strongly suggests he was eager to do so.

____________________________

Him

Putting him in the nose thing cancer people or old dudes with emphysema have to wear seemed over-the-top, but if Patricia said he had to, he guess he had to. The nose thing was more comfy than the mask. Daryl made sure to thank Patricia and Dr. Farmer—um, Hershel—for all their help.

He’d glanced at Y/N, whose head was just about glued to the pages of the big-ass medical book, and had been scribbling stuff down on a sheet of paper while asking Patricia question after question after question.

“Was supper okay?” Carol peeped when she picked up his empty plate for him.

Supper was more than just okay, it was damned tasty. “You make it?”

“The spam and eggs.”

Yo, he couldn’t inhale the stuff she made fast enough, the woman cooked some mean-ass grub. “Ain’t eaten that good in a while. It was delicious.” Not since the breakfast at the CDC that T-Dog cooked up. 

When he looked up at Carol, her cheeks looked pinker. Like, red. 

For a second, he almost thought it was because he told her her food was good. But nah, must’ve been getting stuffy in the room. He wouldn’t have minded if it got warmer in there, he felt kinda clammy. Probably because he’d lost blood a decent chunk of blood or whatever. So long as he was able to get back to sleep soon, he didn’t care. 

He wriggled his shoulders to get more comfortable on the pillows, and felt his eyelids start to sink.

“Can I use it on him if he needs it tonight?” Y/N checked with Patricia.

...Huh? Use what? 

“Just don’t go settin’ it too high, you shouldn’t see any muscle movement. Now, you know not to use it on his head, yes?”

Daryl opened his eyes again in time to see Y/N’s lips press together, then twist slightly to the side. “Oh, I was gonna put it right smack on his head then draw him a bath with it on, ma’am, for relaxation and such.”

“Never use a—oh, goodness, you had me goin’ there a moment!” The lady chuckled when she realized Y/N was joking, then lightly swatted at his friend’s arm. “I had to make sure you knew. Some people would try using them units for head pain.” 

Grinning the way they do when they’ve acted like a goof, Y/N nodded and raised their hands as if surrendering. “You were doin’ your due diligence.” 

“I told you, Hersh, I really want to keep this one,” the woman next said, playful smile on her face. 

Daryl couldn’t help but watch how that comment made Y/N’s eyes get all—he wasn’t sure the right describe-y word to call it, but his cat would get that look when he’d be gone awhile then would come back. Y/N’s eyes did just that, but they also looked sad at the same time. 

Then, his friend politely smiled and waved in the direction of the door, same direction as whatever that new dragging noise was.

How many damn people were gonna come in? He just wanted to sleep.

Patricia stood up and pulled her shirt down in the back, calling, “Thank you, sweetpea,” at the same time the old man asked, “James, what’s this?” 

“Couldn’t have them sleepin’ on the floor. Jimmy filled up the air mattress.”

Daryl had neither the strength nor desire nor any fucks to give to bother looking over to see the action. He needed some shut-eye.

“How’s your stomach, Daryl?” Patricia spoke soft, just to him. 

He...felt less annoyed. Eyes still closed, he raised his thumbs from where his hands were holding the sheet up. He wished he could act more grateful, but his tank was below E and he wanted to scream and cuss or just plain cry.

“Very good! Righty, we’ll get out of your hair, now.”

He did force himself to grunt back, “G’night,” in hopes it conveyed at least a little bit of gratitude.

“Y/N will be in here the first half of the night, alright? You’ll be in good hands. Sweet dreams.”

____________________________

You

Sources were true, Dale’s book is kinda ick. Even the title, The Case of the Missing Man, it’s just a bit lame. Hand under your pillow, you thumbed at the prayer beads you’d taken from the family’s house earlier today. You gave Carol a pair, too, you know she used to use them. Today felt like a week, it was so up and down and all arou—what are you doing? Don’t think about today anymore. 

If you’re so darn tired that you can’t sleep, thinking certainly won’t help.

Listening to Daryl’s even, soft snores, you take a few sips of water. It’s really chilly tonight. Maybe you should go grab your other blanket and your hoodie.

You peek at the egg timer, looks like you have 70 minutes until it’s time to check him officially. Gonna be a long night. After Sophia comes home tomorrow, or….at least after you check the highway shelter and do a sweep for her, then do the shooting practice thing, oh, and maybe after another pharmacy run—oh, and then chores, you need to help with chores. But after all that, maybe you can have a nap.

It really is nippy tonight. If you’re cold, poor Daryl likely is, too, the man lost a lot of blood today.

Your side and shoulder pinch and burn as you scooch upright. Quietly as you can, you move to peek out the window, trying to gauge if you’ll be able to walk to your tent without Shane noticing.

It’s gotten chilly enough that there’s condensation on the windows.

____________________________

Him

He woke up for some reason. Thought he heard a creak. 

The room felt colder than a metal toilet seat in winter. He had the sheets bundled around him as much as he could get them. He knew if he stayed still enough he’d feel warmer and not notice the cold as much, but, shit, he felt so miserable. 

He didn’t even bring Sophia back yet, all he found was her doll! like, his dumb bitch ass couldn’t even climb right. Even monkeys know how to climb.

Yeah no, instead of finally bringing that little girl home safe, he flopped his way down the ridge twice and got a bolt hole in him.

And yet, the same people he’d stolen a horse from to get it done faster legit set him up in a room and patched him up.

As he was wallowing and moping about all the day's shit, feeling like a useless nobody, something warm—a blanket?—was pulled over him and tucked in gently around his shoulders. 

The angel? person who placed it on him rested their hand on his upper arm a sec, and he felt their thumb rub back and forth once. His chest and stomach felt a little funny when he recognized the minty smell of whoever just gave him the blanket. The muscle-rub Y/N had on. 

There was another creak in the direction of the door behind him, but he fell asleep too fast after the blanket was placed on him to mumble “thank you, angel.”

____________________________

You

Glenn had stayed late playing board games with the others, he was still on the porch. He and Jimmy are playing cards, probably spit judging by the thunk you just heard on the table along with some muffled laughter. Beth is barely awake, but she waves when she sees you. Maggie is dozing.

Andrea is awake, too, and once seeing you, she rushes over to ask after Daryl again. You assure her that he’s fine, took down his dinner well, and no, she should get rest instead of staying awake just in case. Shane’s in his tent, and you go to yours without incident. At least he knows to stay away right now. 

Blanket now in-hand and hoodie on, you head back inside after remembering to grab the icy-hot rub you’d left in your tent, too. Shoot, you’d also meant to borrow Shane’s sweatpants, but he brought his stuff with him. T-Dog has a pair, but he wears them to bed…Daryl can borrow yours, they’re baggy with a drawstring, anyone could wear them.

Tiptoeing and avoiding the creaky spot by the door, you listen carefully and can hear that Daryl’s still sound asleep. You’d been worried you would either disturb or even frighten him when you pulled the comforter over him, but to your delight, he’d begun snoring.

It is strange seeing him so helpless. Dude literally chews on bark sometimes, he’s a survivor down to his bones. Him getting all the help must feel very humbling to say the least, you know he likes to keep to himself. After seeing the scars on his back, you imagine he might feel unworthy of help or care, too.

With a prayer, you hunker down onto the air mattress and hope for dreamless sleep.

____________________________

Him

Y/N and he were sitting in the dirt because the horse bucked them off. They’d just buried Sophia. 

The old Mexican lady from the house was holding those prayer beads and sitting in a rocking chair outside, chickens pecking at the grass near her. Carol was crying somewhere but he couldn’t see where.

Y/N rested their head against him and squeezed his hand tight, apologizing that they had to get the bolt out of his side. 

Stuck to his chest, there was a thick, twiney string that connected to Y/N’s. It was getting in the way and pulling whenever he moved. When he went to tuck it over his shoulder, it was the plastic tubing from the oxygen tank.

Merle sat across from the two of them, holding a sponge and telling him to get up. 

He tried to. He kept trying to get up and follow his brother, but when he did, he started to fall down the ridge again to where the geeks were waiting to gnaw his feet off.

Y/N’s voice called for him from the walkie, and when he looked up, he saw them ripping their sling off to help him despite them bleeding through their shirt again.

____________________________

You

The timer went off, so you move in order to see him. His breathing pattern is normal and regular.

You can tell he’s dreaming, the way his eyes are moving under his closed lids. Hopefully, it’s a good dream. Best not wake him if he’s still sleeping. 

____________________________

one hour later

____________________________

Him

“Baby, is your head worse, too?”

“No, it’s—” he hissed when he breathed too deeply and it hurt his ribs. “It’s goddamned everythin’ else.”

Y/N had heard him when he accidentally groaned, so then started to do a check-up thing. All he’d been trying to do was move to try to make it hurt less and he could get back to sleep. It’d hurt worse, instead, and he yelped like a little fox kit. Pansy-ass little Darylina. No wonder they just called you ‘baby’ again.

“I’m going to check your pupils again, bear with me.” Y/N spoke softly as their hand made a wall between his two eyes again. “Spell my last name, please.”

“D-I-X-O—oh wait, no, that’s…” They’d asked for their last name, not his. 

“Ballsy offer,” they joked. The little flashlight shone in one eye, then the other. Y/N was trying not to crack up. “It’s good you caught the mix-up, real good sign. Okay, you can rest your eyes now if you want, but please stay sittin’ up, okay?”

He did shut his eyes, and tried to call to mind what Y/N’s last name was…

Got it, Sophia called Shane either ‘Mr. Walsh’ or “Welsh” a few times. “W, um, W-A-L-S-H?”

“Yes, well remembered.” There was the rattle of a pill bottle. “What year is it and what’s the next season we’ll be in?” 

“2010. It’s, uh, it’s gettin’ to the end of summer. Gonna be fall.”

“Mind’s still sharp. Here, you can have one more acetaminophen. I got you some water. Take, swallow.”

He opened his eyes to see them holding out a single, white cylindrical pill and their water bottle.

“Are you able to tip your head back,” they checked, “or might should we use the cup with the straw?”

The warmth from their hand lightly supporting the back of his head felt nice even though they were acting as if he would fall apart like a china doll at any second. 

After he took the one, dinky little painkiller, Y/N gently moved his arms around, then had him wiggle his toes and fingers and turn his head as much as he could. Halfway through is when he noticed the sheet was tucked all the way over his shoulders and thighs where he sat. 

Y/N had been making sure it stayed covering him as he moved?

The strange feeling of unbearable closeness came back and he didn’t know what to do with it.

It was something so little and stupid but so damn big at the same time, to make a point to keep his, what, his modesty? When there were so many other things to worry about?

A lump formed in his throat. 

Y/N looked uncertain after doing something with his left arm again. “Daryl, have you had broken ribs or a broken collarbone before?” they asked him quietly.

He swallowed down the lump so he could answer. “Yeah.”

“Does it feel like that might could’ve happened again?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh buddy,” they sighed. “We’ll have Miss Patricia check tomorrow. What a day you’ve had.” 

“It was somethin’ else,” he grit. He just wanted to lay down again, but laying down hurt too much. Everything hurt too much.

Y/N brought over a pair of sweatpants. They helped him put them on, too.

“Can stand on my own,” he had to snip, mainly because of the way his body started reacting to having them so close to him. He was only human—half their chest went up against his again as they helped, all warm and soft and—yeah, he needed them to stop. He was in just his boxers, first off, second, he didn’t want to be a creep. And third, he could damn well stand on his own.

When he had pants on again and sat back down, he felt the heat from his friend’s hand hover around the back of his neck and shoulders. “I’m gonna put the TENS unit on first, then I’ll do my thing starting up here, okay?”

Not knowing what that meant, he hummed by way of an answer and shut his eyes. He figured it was for another check-up thing, so steeled himself to get through it.

Their footsteps sounded around the bed, and they ended up behind him. 

The mattress dipped when they knelt down on it. This time, the heat from their body warmed his whole back, but the closeness felt okay.

Then there was the sound of a container clicking open, and two, three, four soft things were pressed to his muscles on the uppermost part of this shoulders.

“These are electrodes. Tell me when you feel a tingly or prickly sensation.”

When he felt it, he inhaled in surprise.

“Now tell me just as the feelin’ goes away. These things are supposed to disrupt the nerve signals and reduce pain. I ain’ sure if it’s immediate or over time, but…”

The next part is what threw him.

And Y/N did it just so damn gently that he didn’t flinch at being touched, the way they cupped one hand over his forehead, and with the other, gently brushed their fingers along the back of his neck. They directed him to let his head and neck into their hand.

The angel Y/N next began to apply light pressure in circular motions, starting in between his shoulders and up to the base of his head. “Let me know if what I’m doin’ worsens it, or if it gets to be too much, okay?”

Best Daryl could do was hum in the affirmative; he couldn’t speak at that moment. The damned lump in his throat had bulged up again and then some. 

It was the first time something like this was done for him, and he felt…he didn’t know how or exactly what he felt except that the pain was lessening. 

So why in the hell was he about to cry?

The neck rub soon turned into a shoulder rub. And try as he might, tears started spilling out of his damn eyes. He was grateful Y/N couldn’t see them. 

After however long it was that they eased his pain in silence, his friend then began to quietly give him the summary of what went on while he’d been conked out.

It was something, that Y/N cared enough to share boring stuff with him. He wanted them to didn’t mind hearing them yammer on and was grateful they  

Apparently, the next prayer service thing was gonna happen tomorrow morning. “Maybe the Greenes will come, that would be nice. Patricia and Jimmy are comin’, I know that much.”

Carol wanted to cook dinner for everyone, maybe tomorrow or the next day. “Tomorrow, if Sophia’s back tomorrow, maybe the day after if she comes back the day after. W-We’ll see,” they told him. 

A mixture of guilt and worry fought for dominance in his brain when Y/N snorted and shared, “Dude, not only did we both get stitched today, we both fainted. High-five for fainting twins! I forgot to drink enough water, can you believe?” They hummed and figured, “You prolly can.”

Y/N next told him how them, Glenn, the teenage boy Jimmy, the short-haired chick Maggie, and Baby Spice Beth played some board games together before heading off to sleep. “Beth won at Scrabble, she killed it. Babygirl knew how to use them tiles.” 

During this part, they used both hands to do a swirling motion at his neck, and it was all he could do to not let out a sob of relief. “I did win the highest word score, though,” they sighed. “I kinda had to. Glenn started, um, earlier he decided he’d charge a quarter for whenever I talk too ‘hillbilly,’ so I felt like I had to prove a point.”

He was told that there were some new toothbrushes and shit from the pharmacy run the other day. “I cracked mine open today, ohh a new toothbrush feels so nice. Nothin’ like clean, flossed teeth.” Naturally, they next worried: “Dude, did somebody bring you your toothbrush? I’ll grab it for you tomorrow morning, just tell me where it is. I’m sorry, honey, you’re at our mercy and we forgot the basics. Wait, we gave you clean boxers, right?”

He was able to snort at that, hiding the fact that he was still blubbering like a colicky newborn.

Somehow, their talking about toothpaste veered into peanut butter, and Y/N, of course, made sure to knock him for not liking the stuff. 

“That means you don’t eat peanut butter tomato sandwiches, Dary-bear. What on earth did you eat in the summertime if not those?” Which sounded like the nastiest combo, but their voice and their little chuckle was so goddamn soothing and warm. This was right when they’d started to use that minty muscle rub stuff and it felt so damned nice. 

But when Y/N next hit the spot in between his shoulder blades that had been killing him, he finally and most definitely accidentally let out a sob like the little sissy lil bitch Darylina he was. 

Y/N gasped and immediately stopped rubbing his shoulders, then bent around to look at his profile. “Hey,” they soothed.

“M’fine,” he croaked back, sniffling and wiping his eyes as he accidentally knocked off the oxygen tube.

He really didn’t know why he was crying. It was just a lot of touch he wasn’t used to, and a lot of…for fuck’s sake, he had friends who worried that much about him, went the extra mile, who goddamn massaged him now, prayed for him and all that? Even after he again didn’t find the girl today, after he’d made things worse by stealing and losing borrowing a horse without asking first. After he’d flat-out yelled at them earlier, scared them when they were injured and hurting.

The world had ended, yet here he was being treated better than when it was up and running. 

It was a lot to take in, it was…fucking weird, for one thing. 

Not that it was a…bad kind of weird, though, not at all. It was a good kind of weird, and it made the lump in his throat get even bigger. 

When Y/N moved to get off the bed, he was urged to blurt out, “Don’t—please!” The feeling from earlier, the one where he felt naked, came back. But because Y/N felt safe, it didn’t stop him from all but begging, “Stay just for a little longer. Please. What you were, w-what you were doin’ helped.” 

Please, angel.

It took several long moments of quiet before Y/N, sounding nervous, asked, “The spot between your shoulder blades, that was helpin’?”

“Mmhm,” he gulped.

They stayed quiet for several long moments, tucking the oxygen tubing behind his ears for him once he got the nose part back in. “Do you want quiet,” they hesitated, “or, um, f-for me to keep talking?”

 Please talk, I like it when you talk. “Talk.”

____________________________

You

You adjust the sheet so it makes a U shape on his back, giving you access to the spot between his shoulders without uncovering his whole back. Just because you’ve seen it before doesn’t mean he’ll want you seeing it again.

With a little more muscle balm, you press both your thumbs on either side of his spine and fan them out. Up and down the edge of his shoulder blades you rub, then down and around the curvature of his ribs.

The trick is not straining your injured shoulder, so the angle has to be just right as you’re using it (or sticking to only using your good side). This was worth it, that mangy hick went against death way too many times for him to be left alone and in pain, awake by himself.

“I read in some article once how massages and stretches and stuff can release ‘buried emotion,’ they called it. I reckon it’s more the atypical stimuli, maybe some endorphins. Probably the simple relief of tension gettin’ undone, too.”

The intimacy of this is not lost on you, even is there’s nothing sexual about it. You are kneeling on a bed, giving a shoulder and neck massage to somebody shirtless. A somebody who, earlier today, made your stomach flutter and your chest tug in his direction. You’re also very aware of the warmth coming off his body and how physically near he is, but then again, this is a new experience for you, being so close to a guy like this. You’re gonna react more to the unfamiliar and the new.

But this is innocent, and it is helping him, so you’ll help.

____________________________

Him

The spot they just hit was so sore, a groan escaped his mouth before he could choke it down.

“The stuff I’m about to use on that area is peppermint oil, it’s different than the muscle balm,” Y/N murmured.

The small noise of a cap being twisted off came before the strong minty smell of it, and the spot that was so damn sore was slowly replaced by a smooth cooling sensation that eased the worst of the pain. 

He sniffed as his tears finally began drying up. The soft lulling of Y/N’s voice telling him about a book calmed his thoughts, helped him zone out. Soon, his muscles began to feel heavy and tired instead of exhausted and aching. Y/N gently bent his head forward to stretch his neck muscles, slightly turning his head side to side.

And by the time his friend began to tell the story about how they learned to ride on their best friend’s motorcycle, Daryl was nodding off even though it was funny and he wanted to hear more.

Next thing he knew, the squishy things were being pulled off his shoulders and the mattress lightly jolted because Y/N had got off and was walking back around the bed. He heard them fussing with his pillows, and his chest tugged again.

First, they asked him if he needed the bathroom. He didn’t, so Y/N started to help him recline back, but that just made him freeze. “Gonna hurt yourself worse,” he muttered, eyeing Y/N’s upper arm wrapped to their torso. He tried settling backward by himself.

“Careful, careful,” Y/N hushed, using their good side to cradle his head and neck. The warmth from their body hovered over his chest when they laid him propped against the pillows. Especially warm was where his fingertips had grazed his friend’s forearm and waist as they helped him lay back and get comfortable.

After drinking water at their bidding, the sheet and quilt were pulled back over him. Almost immediately, his body grew heavy and his eyelids drooped.

____________________________

You

Daryl fell asleep faster than a milk drunk newborn after you pulled the comforter on him. It’s been so chilly all night, yet now you’re warm enough that you’ve unzipped your hoodie.

Massaging him was a small workout in itself so that warmed you up comfortably. But it was when you’d, y’know, supported him with your good arm to lay him back that you got a very warm flush. Now, it’s as if you can still feel the spots where his fingers bumped against you. Your forearm, your waist. It was unfamiliar touch, is all…well, it warmed you up, now you can sleep easier. A long night ain't so bad if one's warm and cozy.

Even if your mind is unnecessarily mulling over the veins in his arms, but maybe that’s just the phlebotomist in you. He has very…patent veins.

You tiptoe to your sleeping bag to check the timer under your pillow. 

There’s another hour until it will go off again, meaning two and a half hours until you’ll switch with Carol. 

You look back at Daryl. His breathing is regular and steady. It’s sweet, he’s got a foot sticking out of the bed. Though, you don’t have to look hard to make out a purple bruise on his big toe in what light there is in the room. You consider something: if your own feet are tired after today, imagine how his must be after climbing the ridge, falling, and climbing again. 

And it’s not like you’ve got anything better to do, you’re not gonna fall asleep anytime soon…

So, you take the peppermint oil and carefully sit yourself once more on the edge of the mattress. He stirs, but doesn’t wake. With some of the oil on your hands, you take his foot and begin to massage it.

He stirs again, and you’re thinking he’s about to protest. 

It’s not what you’re expecting at all to hear him mumble, “Thank you, angel...” before promptly drifting back asleep.

------------------------

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[mydemonsdrivealimo]

Run, Run

A/N: the jensen motorcycle brainrot is Real rn, and after a little encouragement i turned some of the bs he and bryce do to each other into a little fic <3

Fandom: Open Heart

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x Jensen Valentine (M!MC)

Rating/Warning: Teen

Word Count: 876

Summary: just some bryce and jensen shenanigans on their way to bryce's after work (set towards the second half of book three, still unofficially together)

~~~

By 9 PM Boston was relatively chilly, not much of a difference compared to inside Edenbrook. Humidity still hung low in the air, but not unbearably so. Bryce had gotten done with surgeries for the day twenty minutes ago, but waited in the diagnostics office long enough for Jensen to finish up for the night. He “subtly” suggested that Jensen should stay the night at his place and he was quick to agree.

“Do you want me to take your bag?” he offered as Jensen handed him his helmet. It wasn’t difficult for him to wear on his motorcycle, but Bryce figured it might be nice.

“Nah, I got it,” he said, digging his gloves out of the bottom of it before swinging it over his shoulder, taking the helmet back. Bryce’s car was a few spaces down from Jensen’s bike, close enough that he could wait to open his door, watching Jensen slide the helmet on, then the gloves, before swinging his leg over and starting it up. Bryce always got a smile out of how his helmet matched his bike; it was purple with a few holographic details pairing perfectly with the shiny purple and black of his bike. It roared just as Bryce popped his door open, happy to stare for another moment before sliding into his seat.

By the time both of them pulled out of the parking lot, Bryce was behind Jensen. It didn’t take long for the two of them to get stopped with the never-ending flow of traffic, Jensen at the line while Bryce stopped a safe distance away. He debated on beeping at him just for the fun of it, but decided to wait. The light turned green and Jensen didn’t even have enough time to get his feet off the ground before Bryce layed on the horn, laughing as Jensen flipped him off. He took his sweet time starting down the road and only then did Bryce let off the horn.

He didn’t think too much of Jensen switching to the right lane, though it was considerably slower. Only did it seriously cross his mind as Jensen switched back after he was behind him. He waited until Bryce started slowing the next stop, riding up between the two lanes to open his fuel door. Bryce couldn’t help but laugh—it was only fair—shaking his head as Jensen blew him a kiss and stopped in front of him again. 

Bryce could’ve left it at that, but they still had another five minutes or so until they got to his place. He waited until there was enough of an opening for him to change into the right lane. He knew Jensen noticed, checking over his shoulder only once before they came to another stop a few blocks later. 

Pulling closer to the left lane, Jensen immediately tried swatting his hand away, covering the kill switch with his other. He had to use both hands to try and move away, though, giving Bryce just enough of an opening to flick the switch off. Whatever Jensen said was garbled by his helmet and the loud rumble of his bike, but Bryce could assume it was a “fuck you” through the laughter he could make out. 

The light turned green just in time for him to pull away before Jensen could retaliate.

By the time they were only a block away from his place, he figured Jensen was done. He hadn’t even glanced back at him, none of his typical bullshit of dancing or flipping him off for fun, either.

But, as he pulled up behind him in the turn lane, he realized he should’ve known better. In barely a blink, Jensen flipped his kickstand down, walking to the passenger side and quickly reaching into his open window, pressing the unlock button numerous times. Before Bryce could re-lock it, Jensen hurried to the back of the car, popping the trunk open then walking around the other side and reaching over him to pull the emergency break up. He easily held his hands out of the way as Bryce tried to push at him, laughing too hard for any worthwhile efforts, anyway. Just as the opposite light turned yellow, Jensen got back to his bike, quickly heading off and making the turn as Bryce struggled.

He didn’t even bother to fix the trunk until he pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building, Jensen already there waiting. He tugged his helmet off as Bryce pulled in next to him, smile turning into a laugh at Bryce’s unamused look.

“You’re an asshole,” he said, getting out of the car with his things, smiling despite the accusation.

“So are you,” Jensen laughed as Bryce closed the trunk, then the fuel door.

Bryce walked right up to him, Jensen setting his hands on his waist with a bright smile. Shaking his head, Bryce sighed but let Jensen pull him in for a kiss without protest. He draped his arms over his shoulders, toying with one of the patches on his leather jacket before pulling back.

Bryce hummed into him. “Is that a truce?”

Jensen scoffed. “Oh absolutely not, never,” he answered, pressing one more quick peck to his lips before the two of them headed inside.

~~~

tagging: @cariantha @kyra75 @gutsfics @jerzwriter @choicesficwriterscreations

[tomfoolies]

begin again

ship: corporate affairs words: 722 a/n: finally, here's the tomja s4 finale fic that i promised!! i actually wrote most of this all the way back in june when i finished my first rewatch, so it's about time i posted it <3 definitely more stream of consciousness kinda writing than what i usually do, but i had fun with it and i hope you like it too :3

--

Tom did it. The impossible, the unachievable. Something he once thought he’d never want to do, let alone be capable of doing.

Once again he was at a crossroads, two distinct lifes ahead of him. A lot of those happened in these past few years, he muses. Constant choice-making, choosing sides, chasing coattails and proclaiming his usefulness to anyone willing to take him on. But the hunt has grown stale, apprehensive, even terrifying in certain moments. 

He looked around the place, one pretentious establishments amongst the others, recalled the time he sat across Kendall, in a situation all too similar; being wooed for his loyalty that seems to have always felt easy for others to win, because he should’ve felt lucky that he was even being wanted in the first place. He looked at Mattson, the man who had now revealed his plans to him after what he thought was just something for entertainment, for evaluation. In his mind, Logan’s dead body on the airplane floor, a divination of things to come if he decided to walk down that path. I grind because I worry – it’s the truth, and it would’ve been the death of him. 

On the surface, his fears, his makeshift predictions. And at the heart of it all, her. 

“You know Sonja would respect you much more if you decided to help me out…” The memory of Kendall’s words resurface, the way he flashed the information like valuable cards in the intensely complex game they’ve played for years now without ever really knowing the rules. “Because she already did just that. Didn't she tell you? I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her.”

He hadn’t given Kendall the satisfaction of being surprised. Of feeling some sort of betrayal. Of thinking about it, even if only for the briefest of moments. But he knew he’d get fucked, Sonja knew he’d get fucked. It wasn’t a viable choice. 

Sonja waits for him at their apartment, but anticipation and trepidation greet him first when he unlocks the door. Only after that comes her, in her anxious stance with her arms crossed, her shuffling walk. She'd turned in her resignation just a few days ago, waiting for this moment and its consequences with baited breath. The dogs feel the tension too, gingerly pad over to smell their dad to see if he’s changed. If he’s still the same Tom from before. 

Watching her now, with a dizzying sense of freedom in his chest he doesn’t ever remember feeling, he knows that today’s choice wasn’t one to begin with. Ironically, when it’s exactly what she taught him; the knowledge that he always has an opportunity to choose differently. But maybe with it, also the ability to know when there is only one road to take. 

She doesn’t have to ask. He gives her his answers with honesty that still humiliates him sometimes. 

“He wanted me to step up, take on the mantle. But I said no,” he says, and watches her face change. From confusion to clarity. “I'm done.”

Just like the first time, their beginning that feels so long ago that they must've lived lifetimes since. When he came to find her after a fight that left him reeling and relieved and with the taste of deliverance, telling her he’d ended things with Shiv. Sonja had been waiting for him, the tension between them had come to a standstill and had to be resolved. They’d both felt it, and everything around them conspired to make their collision happen. That time it ended with her body against his, as fast and as fervently as possible with the realization that there is something between them that can’t be quelled. 

Perhaps later tonight they will do that, too. But now her arms wrap around him and she sighs her relief into his collarbone and he buries his face in her hair. Caught in a moment where it’s just the two of them, the rest of the world gone somewhere else at last. 

She pulls back to look at him, almost like seeing him in a new light, cradling his face in her hands and then she’s pulling him under and he takes to it gladly, their foreheads touching. 

Something unknown yet great is right at his fingertips. He decides to grasp it with both hands.

[ladythornofrivia]

The Imperfection of Sound

In a world of sound, reader is deaf. Until she meets Ran Haitani, who shows her that life is more than just hoping for a miracle.

Pair: Ran x Reader

Part: Five-part series

Warning: Mature Content

(If you’re under 18, I’m sorry but you can’t read this)

Author’s Note: Sorry for the wait. I want to make the second chapter to be great. So much has been going on this month, but here I am, watching a funny Filipino movie, then downloading Webtoons which I should’ve done a long time ago. Is it too late to start? Oh, and the Filipino movie I watch is on Netflix, and then I also watched Bridgerton. I’m also thankful that you guys enjoy the stories I wrote; you have no idea how much it means to me that it captures your attention. I also wanted to say that I hope you guys are doing okay, being happy and well. 🥹

(Please report if someone decides to plagiarizes/steals my work. And notify me. Thank you.)

Chapter 2: This Feeling…

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Everyday, every minute and second, in weeks, months and years, Ran acquires to make everything perfect. Appearances are a must. First impressions last, unless making a greater impression for the next occasion, which occasions turned to daily events.

But for the first time, he’s distressed. Beyond the ultimate perfection, it created another layer of fear to achieve more perfectionism.

For the first weeks, it took you a while to open up with Ran. Though Ran is used to girls throwing themselves at him whether in person or phone, he tried his best to communicate with you without going too fast with a ‘bang’.

Though a while it took, everything fell into place within 3 months. Everything was a success. Though one day, after their busy hours, they started texting each other non-stop, then a summon of simple 20 questions and facts about themselves. Then they twist a game into a more fun one by doing two truths and a lie.

(y/n): I want to make our conversation more interesting.

Ran: 😏 What kind of interesting? 😉

(y/n): don’t get any dirty minded ideas, Ran.

Ran: Why do you assume I’m thinking something dirty?

(y/n): the wink emoji. The side smirk emoji. 😂 i know everything. I see all.

Ran: what do you mean? I’m just sitting here anticipating, darling. Teasing you is so fun to watch, Sauron, the eye that sees all.

(y/n) is typing…

(y/n): it’ll be simple and quick.

Ran: Go on, I’m still here, waiting. 😉😏

(y/n): two truths and a lie. We have to tells facts about ourselves, and you have to guess which one is a lie, same goes for me. Self-explanatory.

Ran: alright. Bring it. 😎

(y/n): i used to ice skate, I won a dance competition at the age of 13, and I can do 3 sign languages—Japanese, English and Italian.

Ran: 🤔 hmmm…interesting…

(y/n): what? What are you thinking at the moment?

Ran: nothing, I feel as if you can do it all. So much sophistication in you. 😏😉

In an instant, you found yourself tucking half of your face in the sheets, flushing heat from his comment. But you regathered yourself that Ran Haitani is capable of making alluring comments to any girl. Not even the air condition would cool down the hot shivers on your limbs and hands, with tiny tingles tickling on your fingertips.

(y/n): so, which is the lie?

Ran: the second one.

Smiling, you typed, “wrong! It’s the first one. Your turn!”

Ran: I have own some designs from Mont Blanc. I’m a part-time model and an actor. I own a building at Roppongi.

(y/n): hmmmm…

Ran: did i offend you? 😱😥

(y/n): not really. I thought it’d be…ordinary like mine.

Ran: what do you mean?

(y/n): my accomplishments felt so mundane compare to yours.but it’s riveting.

Ran: which one?

(y/n): if anything, they all sound like you. Tricky…I have to say an actor or model.

Ran: you’re right! You chose your answer wisely.

(y/n): but you do look like a model. You’re tall and you have nice hair and good bone structure on your legs and a nice complexion. What’s your secret on making your hair look nice? Why do guys always have longer and healthier locks than mine? 😂

Ran: believe me if I say that maintaining hairstyle is hard. Good bone structure on my legs?

(y/n): yeah, we girls have to get used to being pretty. Being pretty cost a lot of hurt. Well you’re tall. Like a giant.

Ran: a handsome giant, I hope? 🙈

(y/n): like one of the fairy tales.

Ran: that’s not what I meant. I meant to say that when it comes to hair salons, they have their prices ranged up. A tall handsome giant, maybe? A confirmation from a talented, sophisticated lady? 🥺

(y/n): I wish everything is cheap. Life isn’t fair. You’re like a tall elvish prince, I’d say.

Ran: I agree. But when it comes to money, anyone can pretty much do anything. As long as everything is legal. Elvish prince? Lord of the Rings?

(y/n): you know it! 🤭🫣

(y/n): I always wanted to become a ballerina, but I dislocated my leg and foot in the process at a young age. I used to dye my hair blonde a lot. And I used to go to homeschool.

Ran: dislocated? Are you okay?

(y/n): 😂. You have to pick which one is a lie.

Ran: if I have to guess…homeschool!

(y/n): nope! Dyeing my hair blonde. I wouldn’t risk it. My head is too precious to be ruined.

Ran: is your leg okay?

(y/n): I’m okay. I can walk and sit perfectly. But if I slip, it tends to get worse. So I had to be careful.

Ran: want me to help you?

(y/n): you don’t have to, actually. I’ve been pretty cautious ever since I was a little girl.

Ran: I can help you to get to a location. I have a car. Driving is not an issue for me.

(y/n): very kind of you, Ran, but I’d rather get exercise for my leg. I don’t want to rely on anyone for the burdens I’ve been carrying for my whole life.

Ran couldn’t let you go on a risky route. He’ll have to find a way to make an excuse to help you, to ease your burdens.

Ran: I overslept over a day. I can cook food. I…have my eyes and heart set on someone.

Your heart skipped a beat. You were sure that your mind is still present, not strayed by the last fact about Ran. He has his eyes set on someone.

Nah, that can’t be. His love life is his precious kingdom—his kingdom of roppongi. You already know this by now. A part of you felt like your heart is screeched into an imploded shock.

Drinking water to calm the burn in your chest and throat, you licked your lips dry, focusing on other facts.

Ran: (y/n)?

(y/n): sorry, I was thinking long and hard on this. They all sound like you.

Ran: are you sure about that? You might want to think long and hard again. 🙈 i know what’s long and hard, if you catch my drift.

(y/n): maybe…the second one?

Ran: you got it!

You couldn’t breathe anymore. Your head turned with hot spiraling motion, even when sitting still. You drank another bottle of water.

(y/n): that was fun! 🤭👏

Ran: do you play video games?

(y/n): no, unfortunately. Besides, I suck at playing video games. I watched a lot of dramas.

Ran: drama?

(y/n): you wouldn’t be interested in it.

Ran: tell me, anyway. 😊🫣

Your heart skipped a beat again, but with your watered eyes prickle, engaging on changing your inner channel to a happier one.

(y/n): um, I either watch Underworld—which is NOT a drama, but rather a supernatural action movie, or I would watch those cheesy romantic movies. Like ‘the fault in our stars’ or anything with historical drama. Sometimes I watch a lot of cartoons like Shrek or anything that has musical parts on it. Putting on subtitles is part of the routine.

Ran: you should invite me sometime.

The hitched on your throat came, nearly choking. Almost as if you’re rendered speechless.

(y/n): are you sure? I mean, there are some parts that are boring. I can set up Fast & Furious or any of the action movies you prefer, like ones with money heist or something.

Ran: it’s okay. Besides, my brother is trying to host a party at the building I live in.

(y/n): why don’t you join him? I mean, you told me before that you can do DJ.I’m sure the people you want to see will be there.

Ran: I want to get away from party life for once. Are you interested in going to a party?

(y/n): I haven’t been into one since the prom.

Ran: we never have a prom here.

(y/n): I know, you’re very wild, unlike me.

Ran: taming is the only way for me to cooperate with somebody.

(y/n): I’m sure someone will tame you one of these times. Maybe sooner than later. I have to go to sleep. My eyes are getting heavy. I’ll text you whenever I can. 😴

Ran’s hands are coated in sweat, reading the last message you sent. Under the lying world of darkness, even a dimmed screen on his phone, he was sure he’s been sparked brighter. The movements shifted in his bed with his limbs were somewhat hyper and awake.

You, on the other hand, are lying. Your eyes weren’t getting heavier. You wish your heart would stop listening and responding from his messages. All of this, will be nothing in the end but just a thin string of temporary comfort. This will all be but a smoke and mirrors to you.

This feeling….you couldn’t survive it. Your inner voices unruly spiked, then drowned.

Like Scarlett O’Hara said, ‘I’ll think about it tomorrow.’ Is a way for you to forget what he previously declared.

Meanwhile…

“Fuck, why did I say that I set my eyes and heart on someone…” Ran scolded himself, throwing himself on the tucked bed. “I’m so stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid! It’s not like she’ll make a big deal out of it…right? I’m sure she’ll forget. By the time tomorrow, she’ll talk to me again, like nothing occurs. And I’ll talk to her, too. I’ll just go to take for a walk…”

“Ran, it’s time to go!” Rindou interrupted through the closed door. “We can’t miss the party!”

With Ran’s head hung low, he said, “Guess not.”

Taglist: @colored-tr-panels @galactict3a @onyx-blossom @f1yh1gh @glamourkills18 @akemiixx01 @penguinlovestowrite @mrssano04 @sehunnies-hunnie96

[blood-injections]

Imagine a seemingly tragic Fab Four, in a world where maybe there was some truth to the Jet Star and the Kobra Kid traffic report, where Poison ran out as soon as the announcement came and Fun Ghoul couldn’t follow fast enough. Or maybe something completely different happens but whatever happened, maybe he’s the only member of the fabulous four left. Or maybe they just lost one of them, maybe Party, dragged off by Korse on the day when the fabulous four finally lost a fight to them, to be interrogated and probably killed.

But whoever they lost, months or even years down the line, it’s finally Fun Ghoul’s turn. He can’t get out of the way fast enough and there’s guns trained on him, he can’t fight his way out of this one. There’s two choices, let them take him or go down fighting. Die here and now or become a prisoner and maybe have the slightest chance of escaping. There’s nobody to help him, maybe Kobra and Jet were there too, but they were also captured or even shot down. So Ghoul makes his choice, he drops his weapon, lets his arms be wrenched behind him, wrists cuffed tightly, and lets himself be dragged into a shiny white car and sped back to Battery City.

Next thing he knows, he’s flanked by masks as he’s escorted through the halls of a building in the city, likely towards a cell or interrogation room. He keeps his head up, keeps his eyes open for a chance at escape and shows them he’s not scared. But then someone passes them,, walking in the opposite direction down the hall, it’s just a worker or unmasked scarecrow or something, but Ghoul’s knees buckle because he recognizes that face. He cant move, freezes and stumbles, eyes welling with tears as he makes eye contact with the man he hadn’t seen in months or maybe even years, depending on how much time I decide will have passed.

Party Poison only pauses slightly when ghoul collapses, doesn’t look at him with even a flicker of recognition, just a slight grimace as Fun Ghoul is roughly hauled back to his feet and shoved along by his guards, and then they’re gone, down the hall and on their way.

Fun ghoul gets thrown into the barren room that will hold him and he sinks to his knees and cries. Party had vanished after Korse had taken him, they had assumed he had been killed, maybe they should’ve known better. But they had searched for months, they never got any intel on if they had been captured and if they were being held or not.

Fun Ghoul had just started to accept that Party was gone, but then here they were, just another drone in battery city’s halls, memories of their life locked away by drugs. And it breaks his heart, but it also gives him the strength to fight, because if he can get out of here, maybe he can find them and bring them home, maybe there’s a chance Party can remember.

But for now he’s captured, interrogated and tortured, yet to see a chance to escape as they try to do to him what they did to Party. But he fights for as long as he can.

And little does he know that meanwhile, elsewhere, that one Better Living worker is unraveling, because that glimpse of Fun Ghoul in the hall started to undo something that had been done to them long ago. And soon they’ll start to question things, and then they might start to remember. And in a search for answers they’ll brave execution by going to the source. Fun Ghoul thinks he’s going to get out and save party poison. The last thing he expects is party poison busting in and saving him.

[hetaari]

What is UP ragazzi and welcome to my channel today ill be rating all my published fics from worst to best; though I’ll have to separate completed fics from ones that are still unfinished, as I feel it’s unfair to compare them when they’re not done.

Also this is gonna be pretty long so buckle up.

Complete

#60: Your Name (Hetalia)

-this Sucks and I should never written this abomination. What the fuck was I on (I know what i was on. Too much Pavarotti and not enough sleep). Sloppy as hell, bit painful to read, and the pacing is shit. Christ almighty.

#59: Backstage (Hetalia)

-cringe. It’s the first fic I published on ao3 yes but that doesn’t mean I have positive feelings for it.

#58: The Proposal (Hetalia)

-This. This is quite cringe actually. I don’t know what to say here but god in heaven what was I thinking writing this unironically? At least I can tell I was having fun writing this but this is still Not That Great.

#57: “Tù eres mi media naranja.” (Hetalia)

-not very well executed. I know what I was going for but why does it feel so low effort? I tried, I really did, but I guess I didn’t try hard enough.

#56: Buon San Valentino except it’s Switzerland instead of Germany (Hetalia)

-didn’t age too well ngl but again, I can tell I really liked writing this so maybe I shouldn’t be too harsh, but still. The fact that I used “I” in spite of it being third-person narrated gives me hives.

#55: The Thumping (Hetalia)

-Edgar Allen Poe would choke me out for this one. Not in the good way.

#54: Hopeless Country of Love (Hetalia)

-I dunno man. I just. Don’t like this very much but I can’t quite explain why. It a good prompt, but better done by someone else for sure.

#53: The Boy From Venice (Hetalia)

-Quite plain, really, and I mean this negatively. Not much else to say.

#52: Colorful (Hetalia)

-not very remarkable, I don’t want to say it’s cringe but I don’t know, this embarrasses me a little bit.

#51: Bright (Hetalia)

-I could’ve done better on this one, it feels rushed, but also I feel like it would’ve been worse if it was longer.

#50: Paper Boat (Classicaloid)

-this could’ve gone somewhere. But it didn’t. Unremarkable, not in a good way.

#49: Dropping By (Hetalia)

-this was written as a birthday present for a comrade and I struggle to even grasp how they fucking accepted it. Geez.

#48: Misdiagnosis (Hetalia)

-could’ve gone somewhere with this one and it makes me sad. Good concept, not-as-good execution.

#47: Distrust (Hetalia)

-my first attempt at historical hetalia. Could’ve been better but it isn’t entirely bad. Also forever bitter that the event I wrote it for never took off.

#46: Fascination (Hetalia)

-written for a secret Santa. It’s pretty eh. Not my best work but definitely not the worst. I should’ve made Russia a little more violent and it just doesn’t hit as hard as I thought it did back then.

#45: “Within You, I Find God.” (Vocaloid)

-I know I literally published this like two days ago but. Yikes. I know where I wanted to go with this, I know what I wanted the vibe to be but it just didn’t turn out the way I hoped it would. It’s not terrible but I definitely could’ve done better, and I’m sad that I don’t like it as much as I thought I would. Perhaps it’ll grow on me, but for now, this is the place it’ll take :/

#44: Setting Up (Vocaloid)

-why does it feel so juvenile? Why does it look like I wrote this when I was 15? That’s not to say it’s bad, but the quality just feels a little off.

#43: Let Go (Hetalia)

-this one also feels like something I would’ve written in my mid-teens. I do like what I was going for though.

#42: Imaginary (Hetalia)

-a little lacking on the execution, but I like the concept. This one was definitely written when I was like 15-16 and hadn’t been edited too much before putting it on ao3. A product of its time for sure.

#41: A Happy End (Hetalia)

-i spent too much time reading scp articles and you can tell. I feel like i tried too hard on this one and i mean this in a bad way, but the end result isn’t completely terrible.

#40: Acceptance (Hetalia)

-slightly too melodramatic for my taste, but given that this is Sealand focused, and he is indeed quite extra, I shouldn’t be surprised it turned out that way.

#39: Bothered (Hetalia)

-relatable but ridiculous. Veneziano is too out of character here. Not bad in terms of everything else though. I still find the bit about him rolling off his bed and immediately rolling under it afterwards kind of funny.

#38: “Can’t Wait to see you again.” (Hetalia)

-I was insane to have written this. I was cringe and corny but I was free, it’s a remnant of one of the happiest times of my fucking life and I do cherish these quite a bit in spite of feeling quite embarrassed about their existence.

#37: To You, With Love (Hetalia)

-also cringe but do i regret it? Not a single bit! Hetalia has been a positive contribution to my life so I’m somewhat attached to these, even if I was a complete cornball to have even contemplated writing these.

#36: Baking (Hetalia)

-pretty on point for someone like Germany, writing style not too bad, not much else to say!

#35: A Chat About Us (Vocaloid)

-pretty okay, not much else to say here.

#34: The Handmade Chocolates I Received are まずい。(Hetalia)

-pretty good I guess. I think the tangent that Kiku went on in his head was my favorite part of this.

#33: Brown (Hetalia)

-there’s nothing really wrong with this one per se; however, I fucked up badly in the sense that my dumbass forgot that brown was the main color of the nazi regime (for context, this fic was about Germany), so had it not been for someone pointing it out and me having to then clarify that there was no political meaning behind my color choice and I didn’t do that on purpose, I definitely would’ve gotten burned at the stake for that and it still haunts me.

#32: Green (Hetalia)

-too obvious of a color choice for England but overall I’m satisfied with the way it turned out.

#31: My Wife, The Sea (Hetalia)

-many others have done this concept but I still like this one.

#30: Yellow (Hetalia)

-I’m glad I chose yellow for Russia. Red would’ve been too obvious and also. I don’t think red suits him that well anyway, so I wanted to go for a less harsh color.

#29: Pure White (Hetalia)

-I still love this one. I remember being really proud of it and I think I can see why.

#28: The Great Outdoors (Hetalia)

-written for a NA bros centric zine; pretty good. I like the way I had America and Canada interact, it felt real and interesting to me.

#27: Rain and Silence (Classicaloid)

-my first classicaloid fic; brief, but I liked it.

#26: Solitude Summer (Hetalia)

-written for a POC centered zine; I tried my hand at indophil, and honestly, it didn’t turn out too bad! Might write for them again someday.

#25: Marooned (Hetalia)

-meant as a continuation of 23.5. I’m glad I can still read this one and not cringe too much.

#24: Consumption (Hetalia)

-there’s a plot here but it still feels a little random at some bits. Everything else about it is fine though.

#23: Ill (Hetalia)

-I think this could be worth expanding. Tempting, but I should really leave this one be for now.

#22: The Hills Are Alive (Hetalia)

-I think this one is underrated actually. It’s still good, all things considered

#21: Apple Cinnamon and Earl Grey (Hetalia)

-this turned out better than I thought in retrospect, though I spent more time reading about soups than I did actually writing it.

#20: Dead Battlefield (Hetalia)

-I should consider writing turgre in another setting too. Not that there’s anything particularly wrong with this, I just think they should be happy with each other.

#19: Dead Weight (Hetalia)

-and to think that this came about after I watched a playthrough of a video game about rats (one of which was dead) stuck together at the tail. There’s no context about why they’re in that situation but. It’s all about the vibes here. And the symbolism. Also Romano’s thought that Veneziano got himself killed just to get away from him still gets me.

#18: Eyes Wide Closed (Hetalia)

-given how old this one is, it still fucks. I can’t explain why, but this one is still very good to me.

#17: Part of You (Classicaloid)

-I loved writing this man I just did. Maybe I’m biased bc of the cannibalism fantasies here but I had so much fun with this.

#16: Hurt (Hetalia)

-this one goes hard. I’m glad I looked at both of their feelings, I could’ve had Romano go absolutely buckwild on his brother but I didn’t, and I think it was the best choice in the end.

#15: Hey, Hey, Papa (Hetalia)

-Austria and Veneziano’s relationship is one I like to think about. Yeah, admittedly it tended to be pretty fucking unpleasant but Austria isn’t perfect. Neither of them are, actually, but Austria in particular i think kinda struggles with expressing certain things so he ends up coming off as judgmental. Veneziano, even though he may be aware of this, still can’t help but take Austria’s “judgment” at face value and still wants his approval nonetheless……

#14: Hey, Hey, Mamma (Hetalia)

-I also like the relationship between Veneziano and Hungary! After the death of his grandfather and being separated from his brother, he winds up with this new little family with a “mother” that cares for him and loves him <3

#13: Colorful (Vocaloid) [no you are not seeing things, I fucking forgot I had another fic with the same name lmao]

-I think it’s interesting how meiko has a more “natural” appearance compared to the other cryptonloids, who would not look out of place at a pride parade, but would make her look plain in comparison.

#12: The Very Beginning (of Something Great) (Vocaloid)

-I thought this was pretty good. Miku, who’s been surrounded by adults all this time, meets Rin who is a girl around her age and she just has to be her friend….epic.

#11: The Way It Started (Vocaloid)

-pretty much mirrors the one I wrote with Rin and Miku. I stand by my stance that Kaito is Not good at making friends without being awkward about it

#10: Closer (Hetalia)

--fun fact. This could’ve been porn. But I thought this idea was better. Now that’s what you call becoming one with someone.

#9: Sunset (Hetalia)

-this was also a birthday present for a comrade and I can actually understand why they accepted this one. It’s short, it’s sweet and just. Ugh it goes hard <3

#8: “Welcome Back.” (Hetalia)

-still immensely proud of this one, it’s my first born baby when it comes to works with multiple connected chapters, this would’ve remained a one-shot but I’m glad it didn’t.

#7: Stuck (Vocaloid)

-I genuinely can see this guy getting himself stuck in weird shit this way (but not in the dryer, though). He easily gets emotional when left alone with his own thoughts, clearly.

#6: Golden Hour Tangerines (Vocaloid)

-auuuugh! I just cannot get enough of Kaito being a reliable friend/older brother,,,,I wish I had an older sibling like him (but alas, I’m the oldest sibling :/).

#5: Blue Hour Marshmallows (Vocaloid)

-I think I have good reason to still like this one. It’s the first vocaloid fic I’ve written in like 7-8 years so I was particularly proud of branching out (I only had hetalia fics before this one)

#4: Not In That Way (Hetalia)

-some things could be avoided if people were honest, but unfortunately, we make bad decisions sometimes! Anyway it’s better that Veneziano didn’t accept Germany’s “proposal” (or whatever the fuck that was supposed be). Not to say that Germany would be a bad lover, I just don’t think what occurred would be a great way to start a relationship with someone

#3: Do You Love the Color of the Sky? (Vocaloid)

-this one could’ve been for a zine but some other concept was picked instead of this and in retrospect I’m glad, as when I was done with this I definitely wanted to share it right away. I liked going into detail about what they’d be doing underneath each color of the sky, and I’m still soft for Len’s answer to Kaito’s question (which is the title).

#2: Kisses (Hetalia)

-god I love this one. There’s something so good about this one. I’m not good at writing kissing so I’m pleasantly surprised that this turned out so well. And the bit of banter? Chefs kiss, extremely epic creative decision on my part!

#1: In Your Arms (Hetalia)

-now this was actually a difficult decision but in the end this reigned supreme. I envy these mfs, and I’m the fool who wrote it! Like damn I wish I was that cozy ahahaa. I feel myself consumed by a giddy feeling every time I think of this one, it’s just too good. God. A bit of sass from Romano and a bit of teasing from Spain really ties this one together and adds on to the sweetness in a way that is just so Right. I had the time of my life writing this, and I hope people feel even just a little happy reading it.

Ongoing

#7: Dyed In White: The Return (Hetalia) and W Academy School Idol Club (Hetalia)

-Listen I don’t hate these but I ranked them the lowest bc I’ve currently written myself into a corner that I’m struggling to get out of. I haven’t touched these in over a month and haven’t updated them in longer bc I’m too intimidated by them. Why don’t I plan anything more before my dumbass publishes it? Because I get too excited to share it and I make bad choices as a result

#6: First Sound of the Future (Vocaloid) and Your Very Own Protector (Hetalia)

-ngl i somehow feel like I don’t know where I’m going with these but unlike the two above it, I think I can easily solve this problem

#5: Vene Collezione (Hetalia)

-still baffled as to why my porn is my most popular work for nearly three damn years but whatever. Kinda weak in the first few chapters due to having written it as a joke but then it became unironic and the quality got better with later chapters.

#4: An Unconventional Sort of Employment (Vocaloid)

-so this was meant to be kinda making fun of those kinds of fics where the main protagonist (almost always female) ends up living with/working for the main cast of the series it’s focused on, except i accidentally became invested in it unironically. I went as far as to adjust the whole thing for it to be better written (not that I purposely wrote it badly, just polished it up a bit). I haven’t written myself into an inescapable corner on this one (yet) but I’m too embarrassed to continue with it…..which is a no-no!!! I shouldn’t be embarrassed about this, I should be full of whimsy lest I die! I must continue!

#3: “I was Overwhelmed By Countries.” (Hetalia)

-I know that I basically just published this but I’ve been dying to write about this particular oc for ages, man. I made him as a joke but I ended up getting seriously attached to him. I like him. I think his personality is my favorite part of him (ofc it is, I can’t fucking draw him :/).

#2: Loss (Vocaloid)

-I do love me a bit of angst. I know exactly where I’m going with this one and I know how it’s going to end (well I’m supposed to know that really), so it makes writing this one quite a bit easier than the others.

#1: Magic Catboy Len-Len (Vocaloid)

-I’m having the time of my life with this one. 13 year old me would be ecstatic that I’m writing this actually. I could’ve used the personality I normally give Len (cheeky, friendly, sociable) but instead I chose to lean into the common fanon one (a bit grumpy, easily annoyed, comes off as not liking things) this time around, and I’m having fun with it. Also I have a pretty decent idea of where I’m going with this one, and the subplot I’m working with is making this enjoyable to write.

Aaaand that’s it make sure to like and subscribe and I’ll see you in the next poast. Cheers