#Or when he massages his back (Ive drawn that before)

[shlieut]

head massages + how this started

[insomniasdelusion]

astro x artist reader where the reader is like "wait ohemgee he doesnt like pictures of him what if he doesnt like being percived in art?? what if he doesnt like me when he finds out ive been drawing him??????" but he like.finds out and is totally okay with it HELP SORRY IF THIS IS A LONG SPECIFIC REQ,,,,

Dude- this is so cute!! I love it <33

Warnings: none!

Astro x Artist!Reader

————————————

A gentle thrum of music played in the air, soft and sweet just like the current moment you were in.

Astro had his upper arms wrapped around your waist and his lower ones massaging your upper thighs, head snuggled onto your stomach with a soft wispy noise that sounded awfully close to a purr.

You had a sketch book resting on his head, humming along with the background music. Your pencil making soft scritchy noises as you sketched out Astro, you didn’t do it often! You never showed him either.. you didn’t know if he didn’t would like it considering he doesn’t like photos. The flashing of a camera made him nervous, making his anxiety skyrocket and usually ended with him MIA for meetings. It was easier to just.. not.

Focusing back onto the paper instead of your thoughts you smiled softly, stars.. you loved this silly little moon. From the fluffy rim of his hat, to his second pair of arm, and all the way down to his two goofy little tails. You did small doodles on the edge of your papers, never really full sketch’s or pieces though. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable! But as people have said, to loved by an artist is to be remembered forever.. or something like that-

You didn’t notice your blue moon partner peaking his eyes open from your lack of movement, looking up at you to see if you had zoned out just to see you staring at the paper. His curiosity peaked slightly, wiggling up to see what you drew.

You jolted at the sudden movement, looking at Astro you moved the sketch pad closer to your chest blocking his view of the paper.

“Whatcha doin?”

You ask confuzzled.

“..was just wondering why you were staring at the paper, bad sketch..?”

He asked his voice a little raspy but no louder then a whisper, titling his head, you normally always showed all of your drawings! He loved to see you get so excited about and then go into detail about all of what you did.. it just made him so happy to see you happy.

“Oh! Nonono, just thinking is all!”

“..could I see?”

“I- uhm, I don’t think you’d like it Azzy”

You squeaked, a little nervous, Astro how very just blinked at you confused. He loved all your art! Even if it looked terrible!

“Mm.. well shouldn’t I be the judge of that?”

He smirked, a little sass lacing into his voice.

“Okay smarty pants, but still-“

You huffed back.

A beat of silence passed before your sides were attacked with feather light tickles, you shrieked in surprise before laughing loudly.

“AH- HAHA- A-ASTRO NO!-“

You yelped in between laughs as Astro sneakily yoinked your stuff. He stopped tickling you, looking at the paper his eyes going wide.

You breathed heavily, still getting some of the giggles out before hugging and look at the moon toon.

“That was so unfair!”

You grumbled, seeing him frozen you tilted your head, quickly realizing you don’t have your drawing book in hand your own eyes widen and your heart sinks with panic.

“I-I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have drawn you without your permission and I know you don’t like photos, I’m so so sorry Astro-“

You spilled at nervously, eyes shaking slightly. You felt so terrible, a good partner doesn’t go against boundaries! Why would you do that? You should’ve never made those-

A hand gently setting on your face pulled from your thoughts, you looked up your eyes meeting Astros periwinkle ones.. they had little white spots mimicking stars in them that made you want to fall in love all over again.

“It’s beautiful my moonlight.. I love it..”

He murmured, softly bonking his head with yours.

“Y-you do..? I was worried I’d.. make you uncomfortable”

“I do.. you draw so beautifully love, you made me look divine my dear”

He hums gently, wrapping his other pair of arms around you again, holding you close planting a sweet and short kiss to your head.

“Do you have anymore you can show me..?”

“Mhm”

You nod staring at him with a love filled smile, wrapping your arms around. You’re so glad everything turned out okay, even if it was a little silly..

————————————

Man- I love writing for Astro he’s so just- RAAAHH

[vaguesxrrow]

Can you do prompt number 29 with the cat king please(:

tysm for the request ! ive never written for him before so i was very excited to. this is short but sweet so i hope u dont mind that <3

cat king / reader - doing something silly to cheer them up

a/n: i'm not the best at writing jokes so apologies if this sounds a bit clunky 😅 and also this is the pic of the apron thomas wears

wc: 777

tags: gender neutral reader, alive human reader

prompt 29. doing something silly to cheer them up // one time thomas does it for you, and one time you do the same for him

you stumbled into your flat, immediately dropping your bag in favour of massaging your temple, where a throbbing headache was working away at your sanity. a cat padded up to you, meowing in question. a cloud of dust formed, and before you stood thomas, slitted eyes narrowed in concern.

"headache, babe?" he asked.

you nodded. "i've had it since noon."

he tutted in sympathy, kissing you on the forehead. "let's get you to bed," he said as he snapped his fingers, transporting you to your bedroom, where the lights were already dimmed and your pillows were already arranged in the exact way you liked them. he ushered you onto your mattress, tucking you in.

"sleep," he whispered into your ear, and you felt your eyes get heavy as you relaxed into the mattress.

you only woke again to the irresistible aroma of cookies. letting your nose lead you, you trudged to the kitchen, where your eyes immediately zeroed in on the plate of gingerbread cookies on the table. when reaching for them, you realised the gingerbread men were all missing some part of their body, and had comedic frowns drawn on their faces in icing. the one you were holding right now was missing a hand, and its expression looked very clearly upset.

you laughed. "thomas, did you make these?"

he was standing at the kitchen counter, bent over what you presumed to be another batch, with a piping tube in his hand. when he whirled around, you only laughed harder. his apron - god knew where he got that from - was neon green, and had the words 'the food has weed in it' neatly embroidered on the front, surrounded by various flowers and plants... including the one mentioned in the text.

"only the best for my sweetheart," he stated simply. "don't they look positively… horrified?"

"they do," you agreed. "i didn't know you had such a talent for baking... or that you've had this very unique apron this whole time."

he kissed you chastely. "i'm glad you're smiling again."

you grinned, leaning in again for a deeper kiss. "all thanks to you."

⌦ --

"would it be bad of me to kill a disciple?" thomas asked, flopping face down onto your bed. when he had appeared at your window, clawing furiously at the glass, you barely batted an eye before letting him in. he had paced for a while in cat form, growling furiously, before he transformed and began a tangent on how problematic his cats were being these days.

"i am their king!" he said, now. "do they not realise that? or... do i not act like it?"

you awh'ed in sympathy, moving to lay shoulder to shoulder with him. both of you were stomach down. your eyes were firmly trained on thomas, who was still adamantly huffing into your bedsheets.

"honestly, thomas, i think they're just jealous," you said casually. "i bet they spend time behind gargabe cans whining about how much they wish they were you. you know that whiny one, karl? yeah, he seems like the type to throw a hissy fit and be petty."

he barked (irony unintended) a short laugh. at last, he turned around to face you. "really?" he drawled.

you nodded vigorously. "oh, yeah," you said, sounding extremely convinced. "y'know those book clubs with old, gossipy ladies? that's definitely them."

thomas bit back an amused smile. "are you calling my cats old?"

"hey!" you said defensively. "you were the one complaining about them first."

"i'm their king, i'm allowed to say that," he argued.

you ran a hand over the nape of his neck, scritching the spot where his hair began. "yeah, you are. and you're a great king. no one could doubt that."

he preened under your touch, moving closer for more contact. you smirked mischievously, your gentle touch suddenly changing to a tickle attack as you jabbed your fingers into his neck. he yelped, even as a surprised laugh burst from his throat.

"what was that for?" he gasped in betrayal.

"clearly my humour wasn't enough to make you laugh, so i resorted to more physical means." you sat up, looking at him in challenge.

he snickered. "well, you know i'm all about payback," he said as he transformed into his cat form with a playful growl. he nimbly climbed up your shoulders, weaving around your neck and licking the back of your ears as you squirmed, trying to escape. you squawked when thomas transformed back, collapsing on top of you as he chuckled.

"the things i suffer through just to cheer you up," you cried dramatically.

he nosed your cheek. "well, just know that i appreciate it.”

[dontexpectmuch]

hi!! firstly i just wanna let u know how much i love ur posts, you’re very talented n i enjoy ur work a lot !! id like to req a post about how jude would be when taking care of his s/o when they’re ill (i’m sick rn and its all ive been able to think about today lol) tysm in advance !! take care <3

you tiptoed quietly out of your room, trying your best to avoid drawing any attention to your movements. it felt like walking in a lion’s den, any noise and you’d immediately be noticed.

your eyelids felt heavy, your throat was itchy and your nose was stuffed, but you really wanted to make yourself some tea with honey and maybe grab some snacks. you were supposed to rest, drinking loads of water and staying in bed, but you really wanted to finish your essay, feeling restless at the thought of the deadline nearing.

“what are you doing?” a stern voice appeared from behind you, your plan of staying unnoticed going down the drain.

halting your movements, you turn around with a sheepish smile on your tired face, looking at your boyfriend whose body leaned against the kitchen doors frame. “hey, jude.” you greet him, eyes never leaving his face as he steps closer to you, arms on each side of your body, kind of caging you between the kitchen counter and his body.

“so?” he questioned again, tilting his head. his gaze was quite intense, you note, feeling nervous at his closeness.

“i wanted to drink some tea?” your answer sounded more like a question, fidgeting with your fingers and lowering your gaze to avoid his.

jude clears his throat, leaning back and crossing his arms infront of his chest, his eyebrows were drawn together, “babe!” he begins, voice laced with frustration, “i told you to tell me! you gotta rest, y’know.”

“but, jude, c’mon i’m bored! laying all day in bed with nothing to do exhausts me more than working.” you argue back, hands dancing around the air as if to highlight your point better.

“mum told me you need to rest.” jude reasons, grabbing your shoulders to lead you back to your bedroom, hands slightly massaging your tense muscles while he was at it. “i’ll get you your tea, babe.”

rolling your eyes, you sit down on your bed and look up at your boyfriend. he seemed pretty serious about his job as your caretaker, going as far as to ask his mum about how to take care of you, looking up recipes for all different kinds of soups and refusing to let you do any work, insisting that you should be resting as much as you could.

“shouldn’t you be at training?” you ask, leaning back on your hands, watching as jude lits up some candles that were in your room, mumbling something about setting the mood right.

“told them that there’s an emergency.” he replied, smiling at you. “can’t let my baby be all alone at time like this.” he comes up to you again, leaning down to press a soft kiss on your forehead.

“jude, that’s too much! you can’t skip practice because of this.” you scold him, face showing your disapproval clearly, “‘ts not even serious, just a mild cold.” shaking your head, you get up and walk to your desk to grab your laptop.

jude watches you, eyes narrowed, as you walk back to your bed and lean your back against your many pillows. “what are you doing?”

“working on my essay.” you shrugged. if you can’t do anything at all, you might just finish that annoying essay.

“nah, put that back, babe.” jude moves to take your laptop away, but you act fast and turn your back facing him, shielding your laptop from his hands.

“jude, please.” you plead, sighing. jude stemmed his hands on his hips, looking at you before he also sighed.

“fine, but you’re not leavin’ this room, ‘m bein’ serious.” he comes to a decision, watching you as you happily nod.

as you continued your work, jude went back to the kitchen to make you some tea and get you your snacks, talking to his mum on the phone at the same time to complain about your behavior, hoping she’d back his point up, to no avail, though, as she also believes that jude is slightly exaggerating.

you giggled at the sight of jude concentrating on bringing your tea, beverage filled up to the brim. he looked really cute and made you feel grateful for his presence and concern for your well-being.

“you’d make a good house-husband, you know?” you point out as he cleans up your desk.

“oh, shut up.”

———————————

i like y’all or wtv 🙄

[harvardhaugland]

playing with his hair - jamie ♡

a/n: not my first smut ive written but rather posted! once again feel free to send me sf6 related prompts or something jhejrhjrbr

jamie is rather subby in this… hmm yes… massaging his scalp or playing with his hair would be a weak spot for him i think. like when u scratch behind a cats ears… anyways nsfw below the cut vv

You’d never really seen Jamie as the type to get stressed out often— but on rare occasions, being known as a “peacekeeper” around the city keeps him too occupied to the point where it’s hard for him to keep some time in to enjoy himself.

He comes over to your place on days like these, beg you to take care of him, massage him where he’s sore.

Jamie shrugs off his jacket, laying his head on your lap and stretching out across the couch like a cat. he’ll let you slowly untangle his hair, carding your fingers through it once it’s let down and loose.

When you slowly massage your fingers into his scalp— he lets out this drawn out groan of relief. He bumps his head up against your hand, silently encouraging you to keep going. It’s almost like he was teasing you right now. His pants are down low enough to show his v-line, you could almost see the outline of his dick through them.

He’s tempting you, when you move your hand to his chest, squeezing his pec.

“You mind taking care of something else too—?” he asks, his fingers play with the hem of his pants. There’s a scheming look on his face. As if he had this sort of thing on his mind all day, so you oblige him. Your hands slide down his body, tracing the outline of his stomach, your thumb rubs the ridge of his pelvis and you start to snake your way under the waistband of his underwear.

You can feel him writhe under you, excited. His muscles tense when you finally break the waistband— relaxing when he feels your touch on his actual skin.

“You always want too much from me.” you joke, one hand wrapped in his hair, the other wrapped around the length of his erection, slowly stroking him. Jamie would usually retort back at that, sassy like he usually was. But this time he won’t even quip back, instead he simply sucks in the air through his teeth, letting out another soft moan. He’s so much like a cat, it makes you laugh a little.

He’s so painfully hard in your hand, his back is arched and precum leaks from the tip of his cock. You circle your thumb around his tip— he lets out a particularly loud, needy whimper. It makes you rub his head to soothe him.

“You’re so sensitive today.” you let out a tiny chuckle.

“God, you’re killin’ me here.” he says, quiet and breathy. His breath hitching when you speed up the pace. He’s rutting his hips up into your hand, fast. His cock twitches. You decide to lightly yank on his hair to get him to slow down and savor the moment. He gasps, letting out a whine, “Baby..” he pouts. Jamie looks up at you, pleadingly.

“Calm down before you get a cramp.” you remind him, “You’re supposed to relax. Remember?”

He nods. His face red, hot and bothered. He has his hands bunched up into the fabric of the couch, “Can I cum? Please?” he begs, his voice is strained, his cock twitches as you continue the same slow pace of stroking. It’s fun to see him like this, he seems to be enjoying it as much as you do. You continue on to slowly pump his cock, building up and speeding up the pace of your hand.

Your other hand is still in his messy hair, snaking around to cup his face, your fingers run over his lips— Jamie’s mouth is parted open, he pants, trying to catch up with the speed of your hand. He repeats your name, over and over like a chant.

It takes some thought, but it’s his day today, not yours, “Go ahead baby, you’ve earned it.”

He lets it all go, making a mess all over his stomach, and your hands. Jamie lets out one big breath of air, collapsing in exhaustion. He looks up at you with a pleased smile, “You are..” he breathes in, “The best student I’ve ever trained.” Jamie chuckles.

[mjolnirswriststrap]

could you write a fanfic of clint barton making hot cocoa for reader when reader is sad? and just fluff all around :3 ♡

❄️DAY FOUR OF COUNTDOWN ‘TILL CHRISTMAS☃️

A/N: Ive never personally read or wrote anything to do with Clint, I see him as more of a father figure so I never crossed that line lol. So I tried to give you what you asked for, maybe some suggestive flirting but this is majorly platonic fluff. I can’t bring myself to do anything more than that 😅 Taking Request- a link to the characters I write for. Masterlist

Word Count: 1,588 (I did way over 1k cause this is so late, sorry babe)

Summary: Clint always knows just the right thing to say.

Here you were again, knocking on your best friend’s door, dripping wet from the rain and your own tears. It was a regular occurrence; you have any upset in your life and you went to Clint to help you fix it.

You waited till you heard shuffling from the other side of the door. Clint opened it, squinting at the bright hallway light. “It’s 3am, what happened this time kid?” He groans as he ushers you in the door. “He told me I was too much,” you take off your coat and make yourself right at home in his kitchen. Brewing you both a cup of cocoa, it was gonna be a long night.

You turn around and grab two mugs from the cabinet “, what does that even mean? Too pretty? Too talkative? Too smart? Was I too much of a woman for him, just help me make sense of it.” You say, sliding a steaming cup of chocolate across the counter.

Clint gives you a ‘are you done’ look and you nod. Not needing words to communicate with your friend. He takes a sip before he begins “It’s rather simple, I can’t believe you didn’t realize it sooner.���.

You furrow your eyebrows, preparing to be offended, even though you asked for his help. “C’mon.” You say walking around him to his living room, sitting on the couch. He spins in his stool, coming to join you on the couch. He sets down his mug on his ring covered coffee table, he didn’t believe in coasters.

You remember being so embarrassed the first night you sought him out. He gave you a piping hot cup of cocoa in a blue mug, it was old and wore down. You could barely make out “school of archery” and a bow drawn back, printed on the front.

It burned your finger tips when he handed it to you, so you quickly set it down on the solid wood in front of you. “That needs to cool down.” You sheepishly said, sucking on your burnt fingertips. Once you got to talking and you finally remembered your drink, you lifted it up to find a white circle, perfectly indented on the pristine wood. “I didn’t even think, I’m so sorry.” You said, worried you’d have to replace your coworkers coffee table.

“I’m not worried about it.” And you were ridden of any prior anxiety. That’s how the table ended up like this, covered in heat spots, peeled from sweat dripping down cups.

“So since it’s so clear for you, do you mind letting me in on my own problem?” You say, throwing your feet on his lap. He rolls his eyes, and begins massaging your toes. “Like I said, it’s obvious.” He looks over to you, catching your eyes, “You could never be too much, he wasn’t enough.”.

You rip your feet from him and flip your body the opposite way. Not being able to get comfortable. You lay your head in his lap instead, looking up to him. “Be so for real, maybe I need to relax on some things, I need your honesty.”. Clint looks up in thought.

You pick at the thread on his t-shirt. “I just don’t want to be the reason why nothing works for me. Why can’t it be some other driving force like, he’s married with kids, or he’s a psychopath. Why is it always me?” You huff out.

Clint runs his hand over your wet hair, “I mean it, he wasn’t enough.” You roll your eyes at him this time, why was he sparing your feelings. “Just hear me out, okay?” You turn back to him, nodding.

“He knew he wasn’t enough, and it’s not easy for boys to admit they can’t keep up with a woman, that’s why he projected it on to you, telling you that you were “too much”, cause he’s not a real man. And I agree, what does that even mean.” He says, he always knew exactly what to say.

Sometimes hearing how wise he is makes you feel years behind him, but you joined the team at the same time. “You promise?” You give him puppy dog eyes, knowing he couldn’t lie to you. “I promise.” He reached out his pinky and links it with yours. You lean up and kiss his cheek, causing you to blush, you’d never thanked him that way before. “My hero.” You were smiling now, far different from your first apparence tear soaked in his door way.

He looks down at you, placing his hand on your cheek, rubbing a thumb across your chin and up your cheek. “One day you’ll see what I see. The reason why I let you in a 3am, and sit on my couch in wet clothes, why I let you completely disregard that we have work in the morning.”. You looked up at your friend, seeing a glimmer in his eyes.

“Cause I’m the best, and you can’t resist.” You say, breaking up the tension of the moment. It causes him to scoff, “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night, pal.” You lift yourself from the couch, and peel your sweater off your body. “Are you getting me pajamas or not pervert.”. You laugh when you catch Clint looking a second too long.

“You have a weird way of asking for things, don’t you?” He returns from his bedroom, dry clothes in his hands, he throws the shirt at you, you recognize it instantly. It was from a community fundraiser, “27th Street Center Toy Drive” was printed on the front.

“How do you still have this?” You say, throwing it on over your head. “I’m a collector, or hoarder, you decide.” Clint leans on the door way of his room, waiting on you to finish pulling on his basketball shorts. You were both adults, getting dressed and undressed wasn’t overly sexualized at work, so why should it be here?

You’d helped Sam pull off his tight ass flight pants plenty before. Natasha had literally poured baby powder in your latex suit while you were naked underneath. It’s more of a helping hand thing. Even though you definitely didn’t need Clint’s help tying up your shorts, you were numb to getting undressed randomly in front of people.

“You can have the bed I’ll take my own couch, again.” He says, pulling a blanket from the closet. You smile, knowing this was gonna be how your night ended when you walked out of the restaurant. You walk up to him, wrapping your arms around him, “I don’t know what I’d do without you hawk.”

He squeezes you, letting you know it’s gonna be okay. “Just get some sleep, pretty girl.” He says, pushing you into his room.

You climb into his soft sheets, waiting for the smell of his cologne to put you to sleep. You press your face into the pillow to be met with a freshly washed pillow case. “Clint!” You yell, annoyed that you’d have to admit to him you love his smell.

He appears in the dark doorway, he must have already gotten comfortable on the couch because he didn’t have a shirt on. “What’s wrong?” He says, looking at you take up only a tenth of his king size bed. “Are these fresh sheets?”.

“Is that a problem?” He says, his exhaustion fully showing. You shake your head, “it just doesn’t smell like you.”. “Whatever weirdo.” He laughs, walking into the room.

“Well, sort of a problem. Maybe just for me.” You say, sitting up in bed when he sits at the foot of it. You knew you’d have to tell on yourself eventually. “One of the best parts about coming to Clint’s to wallow in self pity, besides the cocoa and free therapy is getting to sleep in your bed.”. You look down at your hands, not being able to fully get to the point.

Clint reaches over and holds your hand, “I’m glad you feel so comfortable here. But shouldn’t you be happy I just washed my sheets? Maybe I’m missing something.” He says.

You look up at him, you need to play this off as nonchalant as possible. “I don’t know, it just smells like you and I’ve slowly associated that with a comforting thing, like the cocoa and you.” You give him a half smile, not really meaning it.

There was no other way to say it. It was going to sound either creepy or romantic no matter what. You just hope he didn’t take offense in any way. “Oh.” He says, breaking you from your nervous spiral.

“Yeah, now that I say it out loud, it’s actually really embarrassing.” You don’t understand yourself sometimes, it’s like you live to torment yourself. He stands up and you think he’s going to leave the room, but he walks around to the other side of the bed, climbing under the covers. “If it helps you, it helps. Who am I to judge my own friend?”.

You look at him with wide eyes, “it’s not weird?” You ask. He leans back against the headboard, folding his hands on his chest, “Only thing making it weird is you.” He laughs, closing his eyes. You roll on your side and face him, he’s laying on his back.

You feel yourself already falling asleep as you wiggled into a comfortable position. You crack open one eye “If you mention this to anyone I will kill you.” You say, not letting him forget that you’re both assassins.

[beann-e]

Often times people always say how ‘ those who pretend they hate each other are actually just in love and don’t know how to show it ‘.

There are some days when you wish this were the case. When you wish that your hate for sunghoon wasnt as deep as it is now.

You wish that the both of you could come to an agreement that youre just wildly in love with each other. That instead of wanting to break his face in with your fist you would want to do it with your mouth in a long lasting kiss.

You deeply wish that everytime you yell at him it wouldnt be in a fit of rage but, in a cry of desperation to be loved but no you

“ —hate him “ you screamed as you drove your fist into jungwons chest repeatedly. “ I — I really really hate him won “

The black haired male staring straight ahead almost as if he was oblivious to the balled up fist that were pounding against his chest close to his heart. Tounge poking the inside of his cheek before his hands came up to wrap around your wrist.

Your eyes looking into his when you felt the defining grip of his thin fingers on your wrist. Mouth opening a bit when he flicked his eyes over your creased eyebrows before dropping to land on your own.

“ listen “ his voice sending shivers through your body as he sucked his teeth his own eyebrows furrowing the same as yours “ I can understand that really I can “

Apparent annoyance drawn ln his face as if it a white board “ but what I cant understand is your need to punch me “ he spit “ im not pretty boy — ok—im the leader — im an adult now y/n? “

Grip feeling a bit tighter “ im lost have we just forgotten that along the way or ? What huh ? “

Your mouth wide open as his face got closer to yours “ come on speak up ? You do it enough when sunghoon says something so why cant you do it now ? Like I said before im not one to throw my title around — all im saying is— im lost “

Small gasps leaving your mouth feeling his breath nearly collide with your own. Before letting out a small squeak at the next words that flowed into the room. A shiver moving through your body when you didnt see jungwons lips move “ yeah — how about we catch up because similar to yang here im a bit lost on why the pretty girl is in his arms and not mine “

Your eyes slowly moving over to the tall male leaning against the doorway. Arms folded a slight smirk on his face as he locked the door behind him picking up his duffle bag on the floor and walking over to the two people standing in his room.

Finger lightly grazing your arm as your body tried to flinch back but unable to from the tight hold of jungwons hands still latched to your wrist

“ you miss me that much princess or am I just lucky to walk in on such a sight tonight “ a wide smile spreading across his lips as his mouth came to your ear “ you wouldnt dare be snitching on me right ? “

Your body freezing at the implication for your visit mind racing trying to figure out what you actually were here for in the first place until you felt cold hands on your shoulder and a single breathe of a word in your ear “ y/n “

A small hm leaving you before he laughed “ did you come here for a “ he shook his head in confusion “ what did we agree to call it again ? Was it a massage ? “ he laughed “ did you come here for a massage princess ? “

eyes flicking over to jungwons suspecting ones “ shes been a bit tense lately so ive been helping her out its ok you can go back to what you were doing Yang “

“ why the hell would I allow her in your room at this time of night “

“ why wouldnt you ? “ he cocked his head to the side as if challenging the younger boy in front of him “ you are the leader right ? “

He shook his head as his lip jutted out “ so in what world would you not trust those under you ? Or as you like to say those older the you with your little sister ? Your mature hyungs? “

Jungwons eyebrows twitching as he stared at you not wanting to lock eyes with sunghoon. He in no way wanted to seem disrespectful but, he had questions about the two of you.

You hated each other.

He knew you hated each other

So why was he having the hardest time deciding on if he should listen to his hyung and leave you two alone or to take you along with him. He knew this decision would just come back and bite him in his ass when he got scolded for the mess you two would make in the argument you were bound to get into as soon as he left the room.

“ jungwon “ you let out softly a small smile gracing your lips “ its ok “

“ it’s not— you two will fight and I’ll be left to get in trouble you two never do I always receive the backlash from management “ he shook his head hand running down his face in exhaustion “ and from grandma……youre not even suppose to be here y/n — press would throw a fit of happiness if they catch you here “

“ but its my choice — my decision “ your eyes flicking to the dark ones near your neck “ my ex “

Jungwon nodding his head softly as he licked his lips slowly loosening the grip on your wrist before letting out a soft sorry rubbing your wrist slightly “ I’ll leave you two but “ his finger waving at you knowing you were the only one who would actually listen“ if grandma finds out about this I was knocked out thanks to the jet lag ok“

Nodding your head as you watched him suck his teeth mumbling under his breath as he grabbed his phone and made his way out of the hotel room leaving you to the quiet and long sigh that sunghoon let out against your neck “ I really — really — really hate you “

“ awe baby you know it hurts me when you say that “

Your face falling in sadness at the claim “ so? “ he spoke softly the room seeming to close in on itself “ you flew here for me ? “

“ sunghoon— “‘

“ did you fly here for me “

“ sunghoon no I saw — “

“ regardless “ he whisper yelled eyes glued to the floor as his fist tightned at your sides sides “ fuck all that — did you fly here for me “

Your eyebrows still stuck in the furrow they held from earlier a small puff of air leaving your mouth as your face turned and eyes traveled across his face “ no “ the air growing cold “ no hoon I didnt “

You shook your head sadly knowing him like the back of your hand “ I didnt sunghoon — not this time “

“ and whats so different this time huh ? “ his nails digging into his palms as he took a step back “ whats so different now compared to every other time “

Your eyes shutting in a blink “ what ? Is it that you don’t love me anymore huh ? You don’t care about me ? What if im high off my ass y/n ? You wont fly to sober me up anymore huh ? “ his voice starting to get a bit louder

“ if I get food positioning ? You wont rub my back when I spill my fucking guts over the toilet seat anymore huh ? “

His body shaking “ whats so different about this tim— “

“ sunghoon im getting married “

HIs mouth opening a bit at your words hands relaxing a bit from the attack that was happening on his palms “ i just came to deliver the invitation “ but— hah— you cant — you literally cant “

“ I am “

“ youre an actor “

“ yes and youre an idol “ a sigh leaving your mouth “ I thought we went over our occupations when we first met “

“ you cant get married— you cant even date your fans will— “

“ my fans already know hoon “

“ they ? They know “

You shook your head as his heart broke into pieces throughout the entirety of your relationship together , if you could Even call it that , he was never shown off.

Something that was Hard to endure for someone like him , a person who got off on being talked about , he enjoyed endless conversations and compliments but only when you were behind closed doors…

It was a bit harder to enjoy them the way he wanted but now here you are with the word husband and yeonjuns pretty face to match on a wedding invitation card.

“ but y/n”

“ no—- I didn’t come for anything else and I promised jun I would only come for closure nothing other then that “

“ and y/n I understand that and trust me I was an ass—“

“ hole yes we know but, I’ve heard it all before I don’t need to talk to you anymore I found closure in just knowing you were Invited “ a small smile playing on your face “ I know if I hadn’t have come here you would’ve lied to press and said you weren’t invited and I can’t have my brother dealing with our personal drama “

“Y/n I— “

“ you have nothing to say that you haven’t already and quite honestly I’m tired of the same old phrases whenever I try to leave this toxic situation for something better “

“ but y/n this is differ- “

“ no it’s just like all the times before “ you sigh moving to grab your bag and walking to the front door “ you just never remember you’ve said it because you’re high off your ass and you just don’t want me to leave “

“ y/n i do mean it this time really i do I — “ your hand twisting the knob and closing the door behind you as you softly let out a small sentence tears knocking on your closed lids praying to be free.

“ —love you “

[we-have-bangtan]

Again.

Pairing: Doctor! Yoongi x Patient! Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Crack (??), Ex's, smut

Warning: Swearing, smut (just an old memory)

Synopsis: When Yn is forced to go to the hospital after falling down the stairs of her office. The doctor who was to attend to her was none other than her ex-boyfriend Min Yoongi.

A/n: let me know if you like it! And give me a reblog to support me!!!

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Yn turned over onto her back, her eyes still closed. She wondered silently why her normally soft bed was hard today. With another roll, she landed with a thud on the cold, hard floor, jolting her awake.

When the blinding lights of the room filled her vision, she suddenly regretted opening her eyes. She sat on the floor, rubbing her eyes to clear the sleep from them, oblivious to the drool on her chin. Her eyes opened in confusion when she saw the IV line on her wrist, her gaze following the line, attached to a bottle mounted onto an IV stand.

She sprang to her feet immediately, taking in her surroundings: the IV stand, the white bed, white walls, the hand sanitizer mounted on the wall, the white floor tiles, and the white blinds that kept the sunshine out.

A hospital? She guessed as she took in all the equipment, the machines that beeped every few seconds were a dead giveaway. Is this a private room? She asked herself, trying to find any clue which hospital this was when the door swung open.

Min Yoongi entered the room, wearing a white lab coat and a stethoscope around his neck. He walked over to her side and encouraged her to take a seat on the bed.

"Where am I?" Despite the fact that she already knew the answer, she inquired. "Take a wild guess," Yoongi replied dryly as he flipped through the papers on his clipboard. Yn racked her brain for the name of the hospital; she was certain she knew which one Yoongi had been working at, but her mind was blank, displaying only a buffering page similar to that of a 2004 Dell laptop.

"Did you really hit your head that hard?"  Yoongi said what he was thinking, a little concerned for her safety. "Do you have a headache? Can you recall what you ate for breakfast or what happened just before you passed out? "He questioned.

"My head hurts a bit, so for breakfast, I had cinnamon crunch with milk, and lunch I had a sandwich. Walking down the stairs is the last thing I recall," She responded. All of her responses matched what her coworkers had told them, leading Yoongi to believe that Yn simply didn't know where he worked and that her head was okay.

He was irritated that Yn had no idea where he worked, but he forced his resentment to the back of his mind before informing her that she was in a private room at Asan Medical Centre in Seoul. "Wait, are you serious?" She yelled as she struggled to get out of bed.

"Yes, seriously," he explained, forcing her back onto the bed "You fell down the stairs in your office and one of your colleagues brought you in; you were unconscious for 5 hours; you will need to stay the night so we can run some tests on you; you will need to stay the night so we can run some tests on you," he added. "Why on earth do you have no idea I work at Asan?"He demanded once he was done briefing her.

"I would have noticed if you hadn't blocked me on all your social media pages," Yn said after some thought. She hisses, reminding him why she was blocked in the first place. "I wouldn't have had to block you if you hadn't started tagging me in those dumb Facebook memes," he retorted as he paging one of the nurses to come to change the IV bag.

"Is there something bothering you? Aside from your head," Yoongi inquired, reaching for his fancy click pen, which Yn had given him in college. "You still use that?" She inquired, her gaze falling on the royal blue color of the pen, the brand name has faded over time. He calmly replied, "I started using it once I got my residence, now answer the question."

To search for any injury, Yn moved her limbs around, starting with her feet. She turned them around to look for any discomfort before moving on to her legs, which were still perfect.  She eventually tested her shoulders and despite her best efforts, winced in pain as she raised her left shoulder.

"Left shoulder, okay. Do you feel nauseous?"  Yn shook her head as Yoongi asked more.

"Any ringing in your ears?"

"Nope"

"Is that gray hair on your head?" Yn interjected, pointing to a few strands at the start of Yoongi's hairline. He dismissed her and instead scribbled a note on his clipboard.

"OK, so you don't have any concussion symptoms, your hearing is good, and you're not feeling dizzy and your eyesight is better than ever before considering the fact that you could pick out my gray hair from that far. We still have some blood work to do and I'm putting you on observation tonight in case any symptom pops up, you're free to go home after that," Yoongi informed.

He reasoned that saying anything else would be unprofessional of him. Heading for the door when, "Yah, why am I in a private room in the first place?" Yn intervened, preventing him from leaving. Yoongi replied, turning around to face her, "I figured it would be more convenient for you."

"Bruh, do you have any idea how broke I am," she grumbled, crossing her arms over her stomach. "I ain't a hotshot doctor to be able to afford a private room in Asan Medical Centre," she sneered. "Who said something about you paying?" asked Yoongi. As he returned to her side. "So, who is going to foot the bill?  You? " She inquired, he nodded, causing her jaw to drop. She was perplexed by his words and asked, "Why would you do that?" "What good is it to be a hotshot doctor?" He shrugged.

The mental picture of a very sleepy and confused Yn, with her hair all tangled up and a tiny spot of drool on her face had made him soft, and there was no stopping his heart from falling head over heels for her all over again as he walked out of the room, the smile he had been battling slowly crept into place...

.

.

.

Yoongi peeked into Yn's room after his shift, his shoulders slouching from the stress of his job. He had his coat and stethoscope wrapped over his arm, his hair slightly damp from the shower he had taken, his white t-shirt clinging to his body.

When they were dating, one of Yn's 'rules' was that if he wanted to get close to her, he had to shower after returning from the hospital because she hated the scent of antiseptic. With the scent of antiseptic all over her, he wondered how she was doing.

He discovered her in bed, knees drawn up to her stomach, phone in hand, the screen almost brushing her nose as she mindlessly scrolled through Instagram. Her food, which had been left on the side table, had not been touched.

He warned, walking into the room, "You'll go blind if you keep doing that." Yn's head snapped up at his voice but calmed down when she saw who it was. He drew up a stool next to the bed and checked what Yn had received from the hospital. Soup, kimchi, rice, and pickled radishes were served on the side (Yn hated those). "Is the food not to your liking?" Concerned about her dietary habits, he inquired.

"They don't have any salt or spice," she replied as she stowed her phone. Yoongi grimaced after taking a sip of the soup. There was no salt or pepper and was as bland as raw tofu.

"SEE!!" Yn screamed, delighted that she had been proven right, but Yoongi, not one to concede defeat, put on a display. "How come it's so salty?" His face scrunched up in exaggeration as he groaned. "Stop acting, I can see right through you," Yn said, raising an eyebrow to call him out on his nonsense.

"All right, fine, you're right," Yoongi conceded as Yn yanked the sheets off herself and reached for his shoulders. He thought it was strange, but didn't say anything when she gently rubbed the spot near his collar, the tension in his shoulders dissipating as she applied pressure. He'd always thought Yn had magical hands. It felt like a miracle to have her hands on him again, something he had never expected to feel again.

"Can you tell me what I can do to get you to order me a plate of jjajangmyeon?" Yn asked. Yoongi thought, Darn it, I knew it was a trap, but he was too relaxed to say no. As she worked out the knots in his muscles, he melted under Yn's touch. She was no longer connected to the IV, enabling her to freely move about the room.

"I knew you were only in it for food," he chuckled, moving away from her to grab his phone from his coat, "What else did you think I was in it for?" Yn jested, playing along as she massaged his shoulders.

"Only jjajangmyeon?" He questioned, scrolling through the options, Yn looking at the phone from over his shoulder. "Order some side dishes too," she added, Yoongi let out a groan when Yn put pressure on THE SPOT at the back of his shoulder blade, the sound making Yn blush. "Stop that, people will think we're filing a porno," Yn scolded lightheartedly, continuing her ministering.

"I don't think we need to film any more of those, I have a whole collection already," Yoongi teased. His gummy smile showing up when he felt Yn's hand round his throat, threatening to choke him. "I think it's the other way round," he scoffed. His heart going into dangerous territory.

Yoongi remembered the night he had discovered Yn's choking kink, it had been a very eventful night. He had just come back home from the hospital when he had heard moaning coming from his bedroom, he had walked inside, totally unprepared for the breathtaking view that awaited him.

Watching porn wasn't considered cheating by Yoongi as long as Yn showed him what she was watching so he knew what they were getting into. When he walked in on Yn in his rotating chair, her legs spread out on the armrest, touching herself to a film about choking, he was pleasantly surprised. He went up behind her softly and wrapped his fingers around her throat, not putting much pressure. When Yn groaned for him, he felt himself harden in his pants and murmured, "You like that baby."

"Stop imagining it," Yn snapped, pushing away from Yoongi, "How do you expect me to just stop, those were some great moments of my life," he chuckled when his phone rang. It had something to do with the meal. He went to get the dinner by himself, leaving Yn alone.

When he returned with her dinner, he delivered it to her before saying his goodbyes and preparing to leave. "Enjoy your meal and get some sleep," he added as he gathered his belongings. "Where are you going?" Yn inquired. "Home??" Yoongi answered, taking his phone from the table when Yn stopped him. "Did you have dinner?" she asked, opening up the takeout box to reveal a generous serving of jjajangmyeon.

"Not yet, I was planning on getting some on the way," He answered, waiting for Yn to say anything. "Then you should stay and give me some company, it's not like I can finish all this on my own," She mumbled. "You sure?" Yoongi confirmed, taking his place on the chair as Yn grabbed the chopsticks from the bedside table, letting him have the wooden chopsticks that the restaurant provides.

They both dug into the meal, savoring every mouthful. In the otherwise peaceful hospital, just the sound of them slurping their noodles and the beep of the monitors could be heard. The majority of the patients were fast asleep, and those who were awake were taking special precautions to avoid making any noise.

Yn was the one who broke the stillness by inquiring about Holly. He said, licking his lips to get rid of the sauce, "She's good, I got her a ribbon for her ears the other day." He was intrigued about Yn's cranky cat, Buster, who had scratched Holly once. Yoongi's heart dropped to his stomach as Yn replied, "We had to put him down."

Although he was simply a large, sluggish cat who refused to get his butt off the window pane, Buster had been Yn's pride and joy, her support system. "That must have been difficult," Yoongi paused, unsure of how to express his condolences.

"It had to be done; he was in a lot of agony," Yn shrugged, shaking her head to clear her mind. "How are the boys doing?  I haven't seen them since we broke up" Yoongi's six other friends were the subject of Yn's inquiry. He assured her everyone was ok. "You might see Jungkook tomorrow," he said, explaining that he had taken the day off today. "Does Jungkookie work here?" Yn inquired, quite surprised by the information. "Yes, he's an intern trying to get his residence, surprising isn't it," Yoongi admitted.

Yn burped after she finished her dinner, making Yoongi laugh at how cute she looked. Once Yn had freshened up, Yoongi said, "Ok, now that you've finished eating, I'll go home, and YOU'LL go to sleep." "You always leave," Yn remarked, rolling her eyes. The words weighed heavy on his mind as he tucked her in. On his way out, he turned out the light and gave her one last look before walking away.

Yoongi slouched his shoulders again once he was in his car. The words Yn had just said reverberated in his mind. Since he had broken up with Yn, the words "You always leave" had tormented him. He had been in love with her, yet he was the one who had abandoned her. NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND, HE LEFT HER. It was painful to recall the details of their breakup.

Yn crying into his chest, asking why she wasn't enough. Him holding her as fiercely as he could, not knowing if he'd ever get another chance. His cowardice had broken both of them that night. He'd run away from one of the most precious part of his life, and he still regrets it.

They had broken up because of him. Yoongi always believed Yn deserved someone better than him, she was too good for him. She had yelled at him when he had told her that. Saying that it was her who got to decide who was worth her time and affection, and if h really thought h didn't deserve her then maybe he should make himself deserving, she had said that that was the solution for Yoongi's thoughts, breaking up was not the solution, but he was stubborn as a mule, refusing to see how he was destroying both of them and everything they had.

And now here he was, striving to be less of a wimp than he had been all those years before. He remembered how enraged the boys had been when he told them what he'd done. "Have you gone insane?" All Yoongi could do was nod when Jin Hyung asked. Yes, he'd gone nuts, which was why he'd been insane enough to let her go. He had no problem admitting it.

He cruised around the deserted roads, far too late in the evening for anyone to be out. He considered calling Jin hyung for advice, but he opted against it because he assumed he was already in bed. For the rest of the night, he was alone with his thoughts, his mind eating away at him, keeping him awake at night, tossing and turning in bed, contemplating what they could have been if he hadn't been a coward.

.

.

.

.

The next morning was the same as any other, the only difference being the speed of Yoongi's car when he was on his way to the office. The usual 60km/h had escalated to 80km/h and he was certainly a little too excited for someone who was going to be at the hospital for the next 18 hours.

He was walking up the corridor to Yn's room after exiting the elevator on the third level when he heard screams. "MOVE, MOVE OUT OF THE WAY PEOPLE!" shouted Yn as Jungkook pushed her wheelchair down the slanted corridor quicker.

What the fuck!!, Yoongi thought as he saw Jungkook climb onto the wheelchair's back supports, watching in horror as the two of them laughed and giggled their way down the corridor at full speed (which wasn't much speed btw), completely disregarding the 'no noise' and 'no running' placards which were stuck to the wall.

He quickly stepped in the way, feeling a little sense of joy watching Jungkook's eyes widen in fright. Bringing the wheelchair to a screeching halt a few inches away from Yoongi. "Good morning, Hyung!!" he said cheerfully as if he hadn't just broken every regulation in the hospital.

"Can you tell me what you're up to?" His gaze fell on Yn, who appeared to be having the time of her life. "Relax, Yoongo-boongo," Yn remarked. Yoongi frowned at the old nickname, which he had pleaded with Yn to abandon.

"This is risky, you know," Yoongi said, "especially since you wounded your shoulder," He added, quick to understand that Jungkook had no idea about Yn's wounded shoulder. "You hurt your shoulder?!?" the younger one screamed. Yn scowled at Yoongi for giving up that knowledge so easily. Yoongi justified himself by saying, "Don't look at me like that, he was going to find out regardless."

"Yes, but you didn't have to tell him so early, now he won't let me have any fun." She whined, Yoongi scoffed at that, "he isn't supposed to make you have 'fun', he'd supposed to take you to get your x-ray done, it's on the first floor."

Yn pouted as Jungkook nodded at the instructions, pushing the wheelchair with Yn still in it towards the elevator. "Without the wheelchair," Yoongi clarified, making Jungkook pout as well, helping Yn out of the wheelchair.

They both sulked like kicked puppies in the elevator and Yoongi could not stand it. "Ok, fine, take the freaking wheelchair, but just be careful." he said, finally giving in. The two of them gave him bright smiles. Yn sat back in the wheelchair just as the elevator door slid open and Jungkook rolled Yn out.

They're fortunate. Yoongi thought to himself as he went about his rounds that Namjoon owned the hospital. While Yn was getting her x-ray, he checked in with his patients. Yn had a good night's sleep and awoke fairly early, according to the nurse in charge of her surveillance. She felt a minor headache, but nothing else was wrong with her. Only the shoulder was a big issue, and they were unable to determine what was causing the pain.

It took 2 hours for Yoongi to check up on all his patients and meet with a few others in the clinic when Jungkook barged into Yoongi's office with an envelope. "Jungkook you can't just barge in like that," Yoongi groaned as he quickly gave the patient their prescription before sending them out. Telling the receptionist to not send any more patients, he turned all his attention to Kook.

"Now, what's wrong?" He asked, spinning in his chair to face the intern. "Noona's reports are here" Jungkook informed, holding out the envelope. "So fast?" Yoongi questioned. It usually took a day or two for the reports and none of the radiologists took Jungkook seriously, dismissing him as just an intern. He found it suspicious that they had given the reports back so early.

"Namjoon hyung was there for an inspection, he got it done when he saw noona," Jungkook said with a cheeky grin. Yoongi nodded at the explanation. Namjoon always had a soft spot for Yn regardless of if Yn and he were together. He pulled out the reports, scanning through them. "Where is Yn now?" He asked, putting the reports back inside. Jungkook informed that Namjoon had taken her to her room, playing along with Yn's wheelchair drama.

Yoongi rolled his eyes at that, but Jungkook didn't miss the quiver of his lips. Jungkook followed Yoongi upstairs to Yn's room, where they found Yn squishing Namjoon's cheeks. Jungkook joined them, laughing, and Yn hastily let Namjoon free. "So, Doctor, what do you have to say?" Yn asked as Namjoon got out of the chair, rubbing his red-tinged cheeks.

"You must slow down with the usage of your shoulder. You appear to be putting a lot of tension on it; fortunately, it's only strain and nothing dangerous." Yoongi said, instructing Yn to apply heat and ice packs to the affected area. "Are you going to issue me a leave sick note?" Yn inquired as she got out of bed.

"Nope, you can go back to work just fine as long as you don't do any heavy lifting," Yoongi said, scribbling something on a piece of paper. "Yah, Yoongi-ah pleaseeeee write me a sick note," Yn pleaded as she searched for the t-shirt she had worn when she had come into the hospital yesterday. "Nope, and are you really going to wear that?" He asked, surprised that Yn hadn't called anyone to come to pick her up.

"Yeah, I need to head home," Yn answered, gathering her things, "Wait, you can't wear that, I have a spare shirt in my office I'll get that," Yoongi said, getting out of the chair while Namjoon and Jungkook exchanged knowing looks.

"We'll get it hyung, don't worry," Jungkook assured, dragging Namjoon with him. The two of them got into the elevator before spilling the tea. "He is SO whipped!" Jungkook exclaimed, pushing the button to go downstairs. "So is she and did you know Yoongi hyung was footing her bill and he got her a private room?" Namjoon asked, amazed at the extent his extremely tsundere hyung was going to for Yn. "He's pretty much in love all over again, and the nurse said that Yoongi hyung spent more than an hour in noona's room," Jungkook informed with a giddy smile.

"Jin hyung NEEDS to know about this," Namjoon exclaimed but made no move to call their hyung, quickly going to Yoongi's office and grabbing the gray FG shirt which was in his locker before going back upstairs.

As soon as the boys returned to the room, Yn grabbed the t-shirt. She hurriedly removed the hospital gown she had been compelled to wear. Yoongi was quick to respond, instantly stepping in front of Yn so the two younger men wouldn't get a glimpse of his lovely ex's exquisite body, and only pulling away once Yn was covered in his shirt.

"You didn't have to do that, I was wearing a tank top beneath," Yn said, tucking the shirt's hem into the jeans she had worn the day before. "For safety reasons," Yoongi shrugged, avoiding eye contact as though it weren't a big concern that he was covering up his ex. Namjoon's sniggering at the entrance went unnoticed.

"Noona how are going home?" Jungkook asked, checking the time realizing it was his lunch break. "I'll take a cab, don't worry," she assured, grabbing her phone and keys from the bedside table. "I'll drop you home, it'll be hard to get a cab at this time over here," Yoongi said, following after her into the hallway as Jungkook and Namjoon watched.

As she approached the elevator, Yn commented, not really trying to stop Yoongi from coming with her, "There's a thing called uber Yoongi, I'm sure I'll catch a cab." "Jesus woman, will you ever accept aid without a fight?" Yoongi moaned as he snatched her wrist and brought her downstairs to get his keys.

"Aish is so stubborn," Yn grumbled as she trailed behind him, her hand slipping into Yoongi's. They didn't seem to be aware that they were holding hands.

.

.

.

.

"Jin hyung will be so happy hearing about this," Jungkook exclaimed, watching Yn and Yoongi argue like an old, married couple while holding hands as they went to the hospital parking lot.

"They look cute, 10$ that they get back together by the end of the month," Namjoon bet, moving away from the window of the private room. "Hyung, you literally own the hospital, I'm just a flimsy intern, how could you expect me to pay 10$," Jungkook whined making Namjoon laugh as Yoongi’s car spedmout of the driveway.

__________________________

[mari-beau]

GIVE ME A REASON: PART SIX - A Rogue One Fanfiction

This is a shorter installment, and maybe pointless… maybe I’m dragging this out too long… But also, who cares, I’m doing this for fun. I just love playing with them!

Read on AO3

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Title: Give Me A Reason: Part Six

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Characters: Jyn Erso POV, Cassian Andor

Pairing: Cassian/Jyn (mostly pre-ship?)

Spoilers: Rogue One; Episode IV A New Hope

Setting: Post-Rogue One AU (Cassian & Jyn live); Also during/post A New Hope

Warnings: Some coarse language. References to wounds. And… Cuddling?

Words: 1,720

Story Summary: Jyn’s entire universe has been turned on its head, so maybe she’s clinging a little too hard to the one thing she feels certain of (strangely enough) as she tries to figure out her place in the galaxy. And maybe she’s being a little overprotective of a wounded captain.

Also can be found on AO3.

The Death Star had come for them.

Again.

But Jyn couldn’t bring herself to care. It did seem a little strange to have been spared the last time only to probably be destroyed this time, barely a week later. But either way, it was the end to her life she now knew to be her fate, or whatever. It just felt right. It just was. Not the Death Star specifically, but,

Jyn Erso would die in Cassian Andor’s arms.

Whether it should’ve been on Scarif. Or it was here on Yavin 4. Or the next day. Or thousands of days in the future.

And there was a sort of peace in knowing that. One that allowed her to climb into his bed, slide her arms around him, and bury her face in his shoulder. He stirred and her heart skipped a beat. It was easier when he was unconscious, to consider how she felt about him, how she’d been attracted to men before, even had something akin to a relationship with one or two, but it had never felt like this.

“Jyn…?”

“Yes, it’s me. We’re on the base on Yavin 4. Safe. In your quarters.” It was easier to preempt any confusion or alarm Cassian experienced when he woke from his heavy, partially drugged, mostly just exhausted from his body’s healing, sleep.

“How long?” he asked, then realized there were static-laden voices broadcasting over the basewide intercom. “What’s going on?”

“You’ve been asleep for 12 hours,” Jyn said, moving closer and partially on top of him to prevent him from trying to get up in a rush and falling flat on his face. Also, she was admittedly afraid on some level, afraid to be alone and facing death. When he was near her, when they were physically entwined in some way, she felt like everything would be okay. Even if she died, if it was in Cassian’s arms, then everything would be okay. Irrational, yes. But that didn’t make it any less her truth.

“The Death Star is here,” she said, once she could tell he was awake enough to understand, not muddled by pain meds. “The Alliance is scrambling their forces to engage. They’re leaving the comms open, since you know…”

“We’re all dead if they fail.”

His arms wrapped around her and engulfed her in his warm embrace. Cassian Andor, a man who, she didn’t think she was wrong to guess, hadn’t received much at all in the way of affection in his life, somehow was so good at holding a person he made the pain of the universe go away, made the entire universe fade away except for his hands on her body, gentle and undemanding but also firm and reassuring, his breath hot on her neck, sending shivers down her spine, and his body beneath hers, so strong despite his injuries.

“Are you okay?” she asked, remembering the physical state of him.

“Mmm… Yes.” His hands tightened their grip on her side and shoulder, reflexively, a gentle squeeze as he murmured into her neck. “Feels good.”

He probably meant he felt fine, but oh, yes, it did feel good. Or maybe he was still quite medicated?

“My weight isn’t putting pressure on your injuries?” Jyn asked. “Maybe I should…”

“No.” Somehow he managed to pull her further into him, her breasts flattening against his chest, her hip practically fusing to his, her breath hitching momentarily and then joining the rhythm of his own breaths...in and out… in and out… in and out...

Cassian sighed, made a frustrated, growling sound.

“I need to use the ‘fresher,” he said, loosening his grip on her.

Jyn rolled off from him, swung her legs around to sit on the side of the cot and waited to see if Cassian could manage to stand. He slid to sit on the edge of the bed next to her and took a moment. She didn’t press him, though an instinct inside of her wanted to offer assistance, wanted to take care of him, wanted to ease the pain and struggle his recovery was.

He stood, again pausing for a moment, then walked slowly across the small room to his private refresher facilities. Apparently, it was one of very few benefits to his officer’s rank, for the small quarters were nothing more than a glorified closet. But she supposed it spared him from having to sleep in a large barracks with a bunch of others, not that it would’ve deterred Jyn in the least from crawling into his bed.

Part of her felt like she shouldn’t watch his laborious movements, out of respect, but she couldn’t look away. What if he needed her?

Force, what if he didn’t need her? Not like she needed him? Aw, fuck. She needed him.

She watched the muscles in his naked back twitch, stiff from inactivity and injury. But her eyes were inevitably drawn to the perfectly uniform lines of small circular marks running down his spine. She knew there was a matching sort of trail along his ribs. Injections of some sort of bacta cocktail meant to speed the fusing of the fractures in his vertebrae and ribs, injections straight into the bone. How painful would that have been if he’d been conscious, she couldn’t help but wonder, couldn’t help but want to wrap her smaller body around as much of Cassian as she could, run her hands gently over his scars, old and new, make sure his wounds were healing and his bruises fading, hear him sigh contentedly against her skin, hold him forever.

As he disappeared into the ‘fresher, Jyn realized she was hopeless.

Cassian Andor had taught her about hope. And had made her absolutely hopeless at the same time.

But why fret about it? What did it matter?

Jyn was used to dealing with life moment by moment, day by day. And she might not have many more moments, anyway.

The loud, static-laden voices crackling over the basewide intercom announced the launch of yet another squadron of fighters, then abruptly switched over to some ship’s communication officer announcing visual confirmation of the target. The Death Star.

Looming on the horizon like a moon, a harbinger of death, bringer of eternal night. Cold, austere, which made it somehow more terrifying, somehow worse than staring down an angry brute about to put a knife in you. It was just so inevitable, indomitable. Made her feel so small, insignificant, so alone.

“Do you mind if I turn this off?”

Jyn startled. How had she not noticed Cassian reappear in the small room? He pointed at the comm, which was broadcasting the prelims of a battle to determine all their fates.

She didn’t want to listen to it either.

“Please do,” she said, already feeling less… alone.

She watched Cassian lean over to switch the speaker off, wincing in sympathy with him as he straightened again, taking a deep breath that expanded his chest and shifted the muscles beneath his skin, mesmerizing her more than a little. His mostly naked body preoccupied far too many of her thoughts.

But what else had she been supposed to do? She’d woken up drenched in sweat that first night in his quarters, had to strip out of the heavy infirmary clothes, found Cassian tossing in his sleep, nearly feverish, removed the sweltering clothes from his body, as well. Little did she know, how enthralling she’d find his lean muscles, the shape of his body, the feel of his bare skin, his-

His hands cupped her face and Jyn looked up at Cassian Andor, his kriffing gorgeous dark eyes fixed on her. His fingers swept some stray hair from her forehead, tucked it behind her ear, returned to swipe gently over the nearly-healed scar above her eyebrow, in her hairline.

“Are you okay?” A knot formed in her throat. Cassian was a good man, despite every questionable thing he’d done and tortured himself over. Of course he would care about her wellbeing. It didn’t mean-

“Ow!”

“Your blaster wound still hurts?” His fingers feathered over her shoulder, not touching the freshly healed injury this time.

“It does when you jab your finger in it.” She grabbed his wrist and tugged his hand away, throwing him off balance so that he fell into her and she managed to catch him and ease him onto the bed, right where she wanted him.

A chuckle escaped him and he smiled, making something flutter inside of her. And then he was reaching for her, pulling her close.

His embrace was everything she’d never known she’d wanted. His hands stroked her back and he buried his face in her neck, nuzzling a sensitive spot just behind and below her ear.

She sighed, wrapping an arm around his middle and burying the fingers of her other hand in his messy, soft hair. She pressed gently as she massaged his scalp down to his nape, eliciting a hum of pleasure from him that vibrated against her bare skin and into her flesh.

If this was to be her last moment, Jyn held no regrets. It was a good moment.

“Jyn?” His voice had a lethargic but happy edge to it, thick and low and sleepy. She could sympathize.

“Yes?” She twisted her finger in a lock of hair curling about his neck.

“Please don’t let me sleep so long this time.” His whisper tickled her ear. “No more than 10 hours. Okay? Please?”

He wanted her to wake him up in 10 hours… Like there wasn’t a battle raging in space nearby… Like he didn’t believe they were quite probably going to die soon, incinerated by a weapon her own father helped design. Like he didn’t believe they were going to lose, after all. Somehow, he believed they would be there, together, ten hours from this moment.

Hope.

Such a man as Cassian… The most unexpected thing she’d discovered about him was his belief in hope. That he possessed any at all after all he had done, all he had seen. And then he’d given it to her.

And again, it warmed her, deep inside, that small seed of hope. She snuggled closer to the man, hoping for something she couldn’t even begin to conceive of. But yearned for it, with every fiber of her being.

[hockey-hoe-24-7]

4 times you were a tease + 1 time he didn’t let you get away with it, feat. Frederik Andersen

Warnings: Smut, Edging, Teasing, Light bondage, Dom Freddie, Didn’t really spell check, the end is rushed cause I was over it. So this kind of sucks.

Length: 4.0k

You wouldn’t actually call yourself a tease. It wasn’t, like, a personality trait. But you would admit that you loved teasing your boyfriend. 

Starting goalie for the Toronto Maple Leafs, Frederik Andersen was the quintessential strong silent type, known for his calming presence in the net and out of it. The rare moments he did let his temper show, it was a shock to most. As his girlfriend, you had witnessed that temper than most others, but not often. He had confided in you that it had taken him a long time to reign in his anger and you respected that, were proud of him for it. 

The place you really wanted him to let go, though, was in the bedroom. You had only been dating for 6 months, sleeping together for 5 and you could tell he was holding back sexually. Whether it be his size or for fear of hurting or scaring you in some way, you weren’t sure. The sex was absolutely amazing...but there was something missing. 

You planned on addressing that.

I.

“Babe, are you ready?” Freddie’s voice echoed through the hallways of his apartment to where you stood in his master bathroom, putting the finishing touches on your makeup. 

“Yeah, can you come help me for a second?” You called back. You hear his heavy footsteps on the wood floors before he appeared in the doorway to the bathroom, looking fan-fucking-tastic in a navy blue suit. His eyebrows popped when he saw you standing at the mirror in only a black lace bra and a matching thong, hair and makeup done to the nines. 

Uncapping a tube of deep red lipstick, you took your time applying it, very aware that he was watching your every move with rapt attention. He had always loved your mouth. After a very drawn out lipstick application, you capped it, set it down on the marble counter, and reached for your dress hanging on the door in a dry cleaner bag. 

You made a point of ignoring Freddie as he continued to watch all your movements. You bent over, brushing your hair casually over your shoulder to give him an unobstructed view of your cleavage.  You caught him shifting out of the corner of your eye, his arms crossing over his chest and his body leaning against the doorframe. 

You slowly pulled the dress up your legs, letting him enjoy the show...and so you wouldn’t tear it because it was a very expensive dress and you happened to really like it. 

When you got to your hips, you shimmied a bit and you saw him twitch, as if he only just restrained himself from moving toward you.  Once you had the dress over your hips, you raised your head and looked at him innocently. 

“Help me with the zipper?” With that, you turned your back on him and waited, subtly watching him in the mirror. His face was serious as he stepped forward and slowly moved to stand behind you, the heat of him flush against the bare skin of your back. Instead of going straight to the zipper of your dress, his hands settled at your bares shoulders and wandered slowly down your spine before cradling your hips. You shuddered and heard his inhale sharply before he pulled you back against his chest and buried his face in your neck, laying a hot open mouthed kiss to your throat. Groaning, your eyes fluttered shut and you let your head fall to the side for him. 

When you felt his fingers inch under the waistband of your thong, your eyes snapped open and you stepped out of his grip. Looking over your shoulder, you almost laughed aloud at his surprised expression. “Zipper.” His beautiful face fell into a pout, but he did as instructed, leaving one chaste kiss on your exposed shoulder. With that, you brushed past him and made for the door, not even sparing him a glance as he mumbled something in Danish and skulked after you.

II.

The charity event had been a blast for many reasons. It was always fun to hang out with the other players and their SOs. 

You also had ample chance to tease your boyfriend. 

Light touches throughout the evening, leaning back against him when talking to other people, pressing your chest flush to his when you needed to pass by him. Like all the other players, he was expected to be social tonight so he couldn’t just drag you to the bathroom and fuck you, but you could tell he was beginning to lose patience. 

Unfortunately, before he could take you home and fuck the hell out of you, the two of you were invited out for a teammate’s birthday and ended up staying out until nearly 3:30 am. Both of you had been too exhausted to do much of anything when you got home. You had barely gotten your dress and makeup off before passing out. 

Now, the next day, you woke up by yourself, the bed noticeably colder without Freddie next to you. Patting around the bed, you eventually found your phone and checked the time. 11:15 am. Damn. You had really slept in. You were meeting your mom for lunch and shopping at 12. That worked out perfectly. 

Making quick work of a shower, make up and changing into something clean, you sauntered out to find your boyfriend sitting on the couch, playing video games. 

Walking up behind him, you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and nuzzled your face into his neck, savoring the warmth and familiar smell of him. You wish you had woken up sooner so you could stay exactly like this for a few more hours. 

“Morning, min elskede,” he rumbled, turning to press a kiss to your temple. “Heading out soon?” You made a sound of confirmation against the fabric of his hoodie. Pulling your head up to rest your chin on his shoulder, you watched him play for a few seconds. “Can they hear me?” You asked. “Yeah,” he answered distractedly. He wasn’t particularly good at video games, but he was getting better. 

Pressing your face back into his neck, you let your lips only just graze the dribbled skin there. He inhaled sharply and went rigid. His hands stilling on the controller. “Think you can stay quiet?” You murmured against the shell of his ear. He didn’t answer so you moved your hands down the broad width of his chest until you reached the band of his sweatpants. Hesitating a long second, you reached down - not very easily because he was so damn tall - and palmed his cock. He let out a streak of curses and instinctively bucked his hips against your grip. You reminded him that you had an audience with a “ssshhhhh” against the shell of his ear. You felt his jaw tense against the side of your head as you let your fingers slowly massage his cock, which was growing harder and harder against your hand. When you loosened your grip, his own hand slapped over yours, forcing your fingers to tighten. You nipped his ear in retaliation and he sucked in another right breath, his hips jackknifing nearly off the couch.

Just as quick as you had started, you pulled away. “Shit, I’m late.” Which wasn’t actually a lie. Freddie looked at you furiously and you thought you had him this time. He certainly looked like he was ready to pull you over the couch and fuck you raw.  But much to your chagrin, he took a deep breath and looked away, his body still pulled right with anticipation.

Dammit. The cool,calm and collected had won again.

“Have fun,” he all but snarled at you. “Tell your mom hello.” Ignoring the pang of irritation, you kissed the top of his head and snatched up your purse. 

III.

You ended up spending the entire day with your mom, grabbing lunch, walking up and down the streets of Toronto, stopping into different shops, etc. You had a dinner tonight with Freddie and some other couples on the team, so you stopped by your own apartment to get ready. You were already pushing it with the time so you told Freddie to come pick you up instead of going to his place first.

An hour later, there was a rapping at your door. Giving yourself a final once over in the mirror, you opened the door to see Freddie looking as gorgeous as ever in another well tailored suit. He went completely still as he took you in. Whereas the dress you had worn to the charity event had been elegant and sexy in an understated way, this dress was more of a smack-you-in-the-face, grab-you-by-the-dick kind of sexy. Short and figuring hugging, it fit you like a second skin and made you feel like a goddess.

“Ready?” You asked nonchalantly. As you made to brush past him, his hand was suddenly at your elbow and he was hauling you back until your body met the open door. You grunted in surprise, but it was short lived as Freddie pressed his body against yours, dwarfing you even in your four inch heels. Hands framing your head, he pressed you back until you had to crane your neck to meet his gaze.

“I know what you’re doing,” he growled down at you. You could barely hold in your gasp as he pushed his knee up between your legs, the fabric of his dress pants coarse against the bare skin of your thighs. “And you need to watch it, little girl. It won’t end well for you.” A burst of heat in your belly and you were immediately wet.

You could have given in, let him have you right there in the hallway of your apartment building, let him release all that isn’t up frustration you knew he was keeping from you. You could feel it like like a pulse beneath his skin and a deep part of you screamed out for it. Instead, you mustered every ounce of willpower you had to rise onto your tiptoes and murmur against his lips, “I have no idea what you are talking about.” A soft peck and you were wiggling out of his grip and sauntering down the hallway, an extra swing in your hips.

IV.

The entire car ride to the restaurant, Freddie had his hand dangerously high on your thigh, his fingers nearly wrapping completely around your leg. You always loved his hands. Whether they were holding your hands, holding your leg, or holding your throat, you loved them. Now, you let your fingers toy with his, an absentminded display of intimacy you had both grown to enjoy.

When you reached the restaurant, Freddie rounded the car to open the door for you and help you out. You in made sure he got a nice view of your legs as you took your time stepping out of the car. Aware that people were staring, he kept an arm tight around your waist as he ushered you into the restaurant and toward the table the other couples were already seated at. It was Mitch who let out a good hearted wolf whistle and Steph who pinched him, even though she was smiling too. She stood up to greet you, arms open. “Damn, Y/N, if I didn’t know better I’d think you were single in that dress.” You laughed and embraced her.

The dinner was delicious, as usual, and the wine was making you all warm and fuzzy inside. As planned, Freddie couldn’t keep his hands off of you all night, from wrapping his arm around your shoulders to stroking his hand up and down your leg. After an hour or so, you excused yourself to use the restroom. Seeing the bathroom hallway and the women’s bathroom were empty, you took out your phone and furiously texted your boyfriend to meet you ASAP. He was at your side in less than 15 seconds, looking so concerned you almost felt bad for what you we’re about to do. Almost. 

“Y/N, what’s—“

Grabbing him by the front of his jacket, you dragged him into the women’s bathroom, shoving him up against the door once it was closed. Standing as far as you could on your tiptoes, you threw your arms around his neck and crushed your mouth onto his. It took him no time to respond instinctively, his mouth slanting over yours and his hands clapping over your hips. He lifted you like you weighed nothing and you wrapped your legs tight around his hips. He crossed the small bathroom in three long strides until he could set you on the sink counter. His hands thrust into your hair, moving your head to suit his needs. You bit his bottom lip and he groaned deep in reply, giving your hair a sharp yank. Tightening your grip around his neck, you pulled until he palmed your ass and pulled you closer to the edge of the sink, bending your body back and against his own until you could feel every taut muscle in his chest. One large hand was then running down your thigh and back up beneath your dress. You gasped into his mouth when we pushed two fingers slowly inside of you. He bit hard on your bottom lip, as if reminding you to not stop kissing him.  Just as you were slipping your hands under his shirt, a loud burst of male laughter from the hallway startled you both. Freddie leapt always from you, struggling to catch his breath, his cock straining against his dress pants. You put a hand to your chest, trying to catch your own breath. 

You didn’t blame him for his reaction. He had a reputation to uphold here. One that didn’t include breaking a sink while fucking his girlfriend in the bathroom of an upscale restaurant. As you straightened your hair, he was suddenly on top of you again, clenching your chin in his hand and forcing your head back to meet his gaze. “We’re finishing this tonight.” An order. You took a deep breath. “You know I’m meeting some out of town friends after this. I haven’t see them in 5 months.” Freddie’s expression was murderous and, for a small moment, you wondered if you had gone too far. But then he was leaning forward until you were nearly nose to nose. "You are going to pay for this." And then he was turning around and stalking out of the bathroom, nearly breaking the door in half. You gave yourself a few more seconds to compose yourself before following him back to the table.

V.

You ended up staying out until 3 am with your out of town friends and crashing at the apartment on an in town friend,having gotten too drunk to navigate your route home. You had shot Freddie a quick text explaining the situation and gotten a simple “ok” in response. Not abnormal for him. But you could practically feel his frustration through the phone. Good.

When you did finally make your way back to his apartment around 9 am the next morning, it was to hear the shower going in his room.  Shedding your own clothes, you took a long moment to admire the view of him standing beneath the shower head, rivulets of water running across the plains of his skin, the crevices of his muscles. You could stare at him for hours, but you were beginning to shiver. Knocking on the glass door to alert him to your presence, your heart twittered when he smiled softly and stepped back to make room for you. Stepping beneath the spray, you shivered as your body adjusted to the new temperature. The two of you showered in a comfortable silence and you found yourself being done before he was. He was definitely more of a leisurely showerer when he was at home.

Before you stepped out of the shower, you pushed yourself as far up on your tiptoes as you could go and placed a long, wet kiss to the strong column of his throat. He groaned and let his head fall back, his hands skimming down your sides to your hips. As he began to pull you tighter into him, you stepped out of his grip. Looking up at him, you almost laughed at his expression. 

“I’m all done.” A kiss to the center of his chest and you were stepping out of the shower, grabbing a towel and heading back to the bedroom. You hadn’t even stepped into the bedroom before you heard the shower turn off and Fred’s feet hitting the marble floor. You squealed in surprise when he latched a hand over your wrist and pulled you back into his chest. You hit it with a thud and didn’t even have time to recover before he was slamming his mouth on yours in a punishing kiss. You groaned and clutched at his shoulders. You squealed again when he plucked you up off the ground, you legs wrapping tight around his hips, one arm holding you to him effortlessly. Then the two of you were moving, walking through the bedroom and collapsing onto the bed.

When your back hit the mattress, you reached in between your bodies, desperate to have him inside of you. You fisted his cock, intent on guiding him inside of you, but he was faster. Grabbing both of your wrists in his hands, he shackled them to the mattress above your head. He pulled his mouth from yours, your breath still mingling.

“Oh no, sweetheart,” he murmured. “It won’t be half that easy.”

“Fred-”

But he was moving off of you, landing a stinging slap to your hip. “Don’t move.” You didn’t think twice about disobeying him, only watched as he crossed the room and picked last night’s tie from the floor.  His eyes were dark and hooded as he moved toward you again. 

“Hands on the bedpost.”

Heat flooding between your legs, you did as you were told, wiggling across the mattress to grab the corner bedpost. He met you there, jerking your hands roughly so you were holding the post between your wrists. With quick hands, he tied you to the bedpost. Instinctively, you pulled at the bondage, found that it was nice and tight, but you could probably get loose if you really tried.

Not that you wanted to. 

Freddie was looming over you, leaning down until you were nearly nose to nose. “Safe word is blue. Say it.”

“Blue.”

“Again.”

“Blue.”

A satisfied smirk. “Good girl.” 

He pecked you on the mouth before moving onto the bed again, parting your legs and kneeling between them. You were completely exposed to him, no part of you hidden from eyes that shamelessly roamed your body like he owned it.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through these last few days?” he asked, his voice deep and husky with arousal as he leaned over you, brushing his lips over your jaw. “Teasing me.” A light kiss. “Driving me insane.” Another. “Then walking away.” A sharp bite that made you flinch.  His mouth came to yours again and took it in a long, hard kiss. “Now it’s your turn,” he continued. “To be teased until you’re begging me to fuck you.” You whimpered in response, flexing your hips beneath his weight.

But he was pulling away, trailing his mouth back to your jaw and down your throat with exquisite slowness. Arching your neck for him, you whimpered again when he ignored the obvious plea and moved his mouth down your breastbone to the valley of your breasts. He kissed one beaded nipple with just enough pressure that you gave a light gasp and arched into him. He moved to the other, taking this one fully into his mouth, pressing his tongue flat against it.  As pleasure began to build, he moved yet again and you let out a frustrated curse. You felt his lips quirk into a smile against your skin before he continued moving, kissing down your stomach until he was just above your pussy. Suddenly he was leaning back and pulling your hips up off the bed, raising your ankles over his shoulders so you were completely helpless. You felt a tight kiss a breath above your clit and you tried to close your legs around his head, but he easily pried them back open. After a few more teasing kisses just shy of where you needed them, his mouth pressed lightly to your clit. You gasped and arched your hips into the touch. You were being shameless and you knew it. And you didn’t care. Here, with him, you felt nothing but want.

He didn’t open his mouth and eat you like wanted-needed-him to. All he gave you were small, tight lipped kisses that drove your desperation higher and higher. When he finally did open his mouth slightly to lick your throbbing clit, you thought he might just push you over...but he pulled away. Writhing in his grip, you tried to chase the high, but it faded away.

Giving you one last nip to the thigh, Freddie moved your legs back down to the bed, slowly running his hands up to your thighs. “What do you need, baby?” he asked, his voice low and taunting. “Tell me.”

“Fred, I need-I need you.”

He grinned at that, clearly amused and satisfied by your words.

“Hmmm. This what you need?”

Leaning over you, he slid his cock through the folds of your pussy. You moaned long and loud as your eyes fluttered shut with pleasure. Pulling back, he gave another long, slow thrust, his cock only just grazing your clit. 

Bracing his arms on either side of your head, he took your mouth in a deep, wet kiss. You instinctively moved to wrap your arms around his shoulders, but came up against the binds. It was brutal, having no anchor against the onslaught of sensation. Freddie was breathing deeply, his chest pressing deep into yours as he continued to slide his cock through your folds, keeping you at a torturous level of pleasure. Back and forth, back and forth, it was an exquisite pain.

As if he knew you were finally going to reach your climax, he backed off again, leaving you just at the edge.

“Easy, baby,” he murmured against your cheek. “Not yet. Not yet.” He leaned away again, running his hands down your body as he did.

You heaved in a breath as you dangled on the edge of your climax, then fell back again. 

“What’s it like, baby?” he asked, running his hands up your thighs and then back down again. “To just get there? And not have it?”

You only whimpered in reply, your entire body begging for him. He had you and he knew it. You would do anything for him now.

He slowly leaned back down, hovering over you until your mouths barely touched. “Apologize for teasing me.”

“I’m-I’m sorry for teasing you.”

You were rewarded by him guiding just the tip of his cock inside of you. You both groaned and shuddered at the burning pleasure, Freddie’s head dropping to your chest as he struggled for control. You writhed, trying to get him deeper, but he slapped a hand to your hip, stilling you instantly.

“God, Y/N, you drive me fucking crazy.”

“Freddie, baby, please-”

You both groaned as he pushed deeper inside of you, pushing slowly until he reached the hilt.  You shuddered and let yourself be taken over by the pleasure of having him inside of you. You clenched around him and he cursed. He suddenly reared up onto his knees and grabbed your hips, pulling you up off the bed. Pulling out of you, he slammed back in again. Soon, he took up a brutal pace, his hands digging hard into your hips, your body nearly completely off the bed.  All you could do was give yourself up to the sex, to what he was demanding from you.

The orgasm, when it came, was violent and overwhelming, robbing you of breath as it washed over every inch of you, stuttered your heart in your chest.

Freddie came with a curse his hips slamming into yours one last time before he collapsed on top of you, keeping his full weight braced on his arm. The two of you stayed like that for a long moment, struggling to catch your breath as your orgasms slowly faded. You felt Freddie’s hand cup your cheek and he turned it to face him.

“Okay?” he asked. You nodded in reply and pressed your mouth to his.

“If you think this is going to deter me from teasing you again, you are very wrong.”

He laughed, the sound so deep and husky you shivered with renewed arousal.

“I hope not.”

[hale-13]

Ulcerated

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 8 - Force Feeding

It’s only been a week since Tony last saw the kid but the weight he’s lost is clear in the way his shirt is just a little baggier than normal, the paleness of his face, the gauntness of his cheeks and Tony has to hold in his sympathetic wince. May Parker was never one to exaggerate but Tony had kind of been hoping that she was this time.

Words: 2720, Chapters: 1/1 (Completed), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & May Parker

Characters: Peter Parker, May Parker, Tony Stark, Helen Cho

TW: Vomiting, Medical Procedures

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

It’s only been a week since Tony last saw the kid but the weight he’s lost is clear in the way his shirt is just a little baggier than normal, the paleness of his face, the gauntness of his cheeks and Tony has to hold in his sympathetic wince. May Parker was never one to exaggerate but Tony had kind of been hoping that she was this time.

“Hey Pete,” he says, trying to keep his tone light and his voice gentle, Peter looks like he’s one stiff breeze from passing out or crying – it’s a toss up – and Tony doesn’t want to find out which is more likely. Peter raises one hand just above waist level in a half-assed wave and Tony bites the inside of his cheek sharply. “May said you’d been feeling pretty crummy kiddo.”

Peter shrugs and hums noncommittally, eyes a little unfocused from, what Tony guesses is, low blood sugar. He purses his lips and weighs his options before crossing the room to pull Peter into a careful hug. Peter goes nearly boneless in his arms but doesn’t raise his own to return the embrace which worries Tony even more; Peter is more tactile than just about anyone Tony’s ever met and is always eager for any physical affection. His stomach turns and he looks up to make eye contact with May where she’s wringing her hands in stress and looking guilty in her navy scrubs.

“Thanks for this Tony,” she says, approaching them and running her fingers through the rat’s nest of Peter’s curls. He’s still leaning up against Tony either for emotional or physical support, he’s not sure which. “I was worried about leaving him alone.”

“It’s no problem at all,” he assured and it wasn’t. When May had first called him about Peter’s supposed stomach flu earlier in the week he had sent all of the kid’s medical information to Cho who had told them, based on his symptoms and history, that they just needed to fill him up with as many fluids as possible and start a bland diet. They couldn’t afford not to with Peter’s wicked fast metabolism. May had taken most of the week off work to cram electrolytes and soup down Peter’s throat but her PTO had run out and she was on shift for the next three days. When she had called Tony for their daily update he had insisted that Peter come stay with him in the Tower – the penthouse a convenient few floors above the MedBay if they needed it.

“Okay Petey,” May said, pulling Peter into her own arms to fold him into a soft hug that Peter at least attempted to return. “You get some rest and try to eat something for Tony okay? I’ll call you in the morning when I get home but I’ll have my phone on if you need me and the hospital can always page me if I’m not able to answer okay?”

“Sure,” Peter rasped and Tony winced at how rough his voice sounded but, he supposed, non-stop vomiting for the majority of the week would do that to you.

“Alright,” May said, looking torn and a little devastated and Tony empathized. Peter was the closest thing he had to a son and he couldn’t imagine leaving him like this now that they were together. She made eye contact with him and Tony could read the clear ‘you’re going to have to take him from me or I won’t let go’ expression on her face and pulled Peter gently back to him.

“I’ve got him May,” Tony promised. “The chefs at the Tower have prepared a ton of bland foods for us to try and Cho’s on call if we need her. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“I know,” she said, eyes a little damp. She cleared her throat and pressed her lips to Peter’s forehead. “I love you Pete.”

“Love you too,” Peter mumbled back and Tony slipped his arm a little lower down the kid’s back to support him when he swayed a little unsteadily, dazed. He needed to get Peter off his feet fast before he passed out. They rode down the janky elevator together but went their separate ways at the curb – May toward the subway and Tony maneuvering Peter to lay half in his lap in the back seat of the town car Happy had been idling in the fire lane in front of the apartment.

“Step on it Hap,” Tony said once he had Peter settled, ignoring the concerned look his friend was giving them both in the rear view mirror. “Make it a smooth ride yeah?”

“No problem Boss,” Happy promised, pulling away from the curb with the utmost care and merging them into the Queens traffic.

——————————————

“I know you don’t want to,” Tony began, apologetic as he nearly shoved a bite of unsalted, unbuttered white rice into Peter’s unwilling mouth, trying not to feel overly guilty about the look of pure betrayal on Peter’s face. “But you’ve already lost over eight pounds and its hard enough to keep up with your metabolism as it is. I know you don’t want to end up in the MedBay.”

Peter sighed around the mouthful of rice but chewed it and swallowed it, begrudgingly accepting the next bite Tony forced into his mouth. They got through about half the bowl before Peter abruptly turned pale and then green, barely managing to grab the empty bucket Tony had placed next to him, vomiting up a mixture of bile and undigested rice. Tony squeezed his eyes shut a second in commiseration before rubbing the kid’s back to help him through it. “It was a good attempt buddy,” he said quietly as Peter retched painfully into the bucket until he was dry heaving only.

The episode only lasted for a couple minutes but Peter looked completely exhausted when he collapsed back to rest against the headboard of his bed, letting Tony pull the bucket from his limp grasp. “No thanks,” he said, voice sounding even worse now, throatier and deeper than normal with the wear and tear on his vocal cords, and pushing away the bottle of Pedialyte Tony had tried to force into his hand.

“Not optional kiddo,” Tony told him sympathetically, pressing the straw between Peter’s unwilling lips and staring until he finally gave in and took a few swallows, his Adam’s apple spasming.

“Can I just sleep?” He asked pathetically, eyes red rimmed and skin both pale and flushed, skin drooping with how tired he clearly was.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Tony offered. “You eat another five bites and drink a quarter of the Pedialyte and I’ll let you have a four hour nap before we repeat. Do we have an accord?”

Peter looked at him with sad eyes, the bags under them dark and deep. “I don’t really get a choice huh?”

“Not if you want to avoid the MedBay,” Tony agreed. “The only reason I haven’t taken you already is because you asked me not to but, if this gets any worse, you’ll have to go.”

“Give me the rice,” Peter said, defeated and Tony passed it to his shaking grip, steadying the bowl while Peter forced down five bites of the rice, washing it down with the drink before lying back and cuddling up to Tony’s side, eyes already half-lidded with sleep.

“Put on some Brooklyn 99 would you FRI? Volume at twenty percent.”

“On it Boss,” FRIDAY’s voice responded quietly, pulling the show up on the flat screen in Peter’s room as Tony started massaging Peter’s scalp.

At some point he must have fallen asleep as well because, the next thing he knew, he was waking up to Peter gagging out his name and lurching for the trash can next to the bed. Tony hastened to grab it and thrust it under Peter’s chin – just in time for the poor kid to retch weakly into it. “Let it all out Webs,” Tony said, rubbing Peter’s sweaty back and brushing his lank bangs out of his face. It wasn’t until Peter was done and panting against Tony’s chest that Tony noticed that the bucket contained a concerning amount of blood and material that looked like coffee grounds. “FRI tell Cho to meet me in the MedBay.”

“No,” Peter whined, curling closer to Tony and tucking his legs into his stomach – balling himself up tight.

“Sorry buddy,” Tony told him, crawling out of the bed as carefully as possible to not jostle Peter too much. “You’re vomiting blood so we have to.”

“What?” Peter asked, confused, craning his neck to look into the trash can and then paling further. “Oh.”

“Yep,” Tony agreed, dragging him up to stand before finally just scooping Peter up into a bridal carry when it became obvious that Peter’s knees weren’t going to support him the whole way downstairs. Tellingly, Peter didn’t protest; he just curled into Tony’s shoulder, one hand tangling into his sweatshirt.

Helen wasn’t present when Tony burst into the MedBay a few minutes later but her nursing staff were quick to get Peter settled into a bed and get his vitals and an updated history from Tony. By the time Helen had swept into the room, looking put together and not at all like Tony had woken her up in the middle on the night, the nurses had already drawn blood and placed an IV catheter to start fluids.

“I was hoping I wouldn’t be seeing you in here Peter,” she said, taking his chart and flicking through it.

“Same,” the kid agreed with a weak smile, not letting go of Tony’s hand or the basin he had been given shortly after they got him in a bed.

“So you still have the nausea but it says here that you been having some issues with acid reflux and that you had a fair bit of blood mixed with the bile you just threw up?” She asked, using her stethoscope to listen to Peter’s heart and lungs before moving on to feeling his lymph nodes. “How much blood?” She directed to Tony.

“All of it was blood,” Tony answered, trying to stay calm. He needed to text May ASAP but he was hesitant to do so until he knew what was wrong. “Maybe half a cup? Some of it looked like coffee grounds.”

Helen hummed as she moved on to palpating Peter’s abdomen, apologizing when he flinched. “Have you been on any medications recently Peter? Aspirin, Advil, Aleve? Any stress?”

“Midterms were last week,” Peter answered slowly. “I had a pretty bad headache the whole week and I did take some Advil a few times a day.”

“How much and how often?”

“Uh…,” Peter said, face scrunching as he tried to think. “Maybe like eight to ten pills three or four times a day? I’ve done that before though, Dr. Banner told me I would need that many because of my metabolism.”

“Very true,” Helen agreed. “But not that often. Based on your symptoms and history I’m tentatively diagnosing you with a stomach ulcer that has likely perforated based on the blood in your vomit.”

“An ulcer?” Peter asked, looking like he was having a hard time tracking, Tony gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“So what do we do next?” He asked, running his hand through Peter’s hair quickly in solidarity. An ulcer. Of course his kid would end up with a bleeding ulcer.

“Well we’ve already drawn blood to check for infection or anemia,” Cho answered. “Depending on the results I’ll start him on fluids and maybe a blood transfusion. Since this has been affecting him for a while and because we need to get some calories in his as soon as we can, I’ll stop the bleed and remove the ulcer via an endoscopy. You won’t even have to be fully under for it, just sedated.”

“Okay,” Peter agreed blandly – a sure tell that the kid felt like shit. Cho made steady eye contact with Tony for just a second before reaching out to squeeze Peter’s bicep.

“Tony can I speak to you in the hall? I need to get you to sign some releases while the nurses get Peter prepped,” she asked.

“Sure,” Tony nodded, giving Peter a careful side hug before following the doctor out of the room, shutting the door behind him – all the rooms were soundproofed due to all the enhanced humans in the Tower and their sensitive hearing. “You were clearly holding something back,” he accused. “You’re lucky Pete’s so out of it or he would have picked up on it too.”

Helen sighed deeply, finally looking tired. “He’s lost too much weight.”

“I know,” Tony agreed sadly, reaching up to massage his temples with one hand. “What are we going to do about it?”

Helen clicked her tongue and tapped a finger against the tablet in her hands. “He’ll probably be able to eat once her wakes up but I really just want to place an NG tube while he’s under so he can have a continuous stream of nutrients going in. We could even continue feeding him while he’s sleeping, really get the weight back on. I wanted to talk to you first before I brought it up. He’s on the cusp right now so he could get away without having it but I don’t really want to give him the option to decline it. It would help him recover a lot faster.”

Tony hummed, torn. He didn’t really want to take away Peter’s agency here but he agreed with Helen that he doubted the kid would go for it. “Let me talk to him about it,” Tony finally conceded. “I might be able to get further with him.”

“Sure,” Helen said with a nod. “You should be good to go back in and sit with him, it’ll take another thirty minutes to an hour to get everything ready but we’ll let you know when it’s time.”

“Thanks,” Tony said sincerely, re-entering the room. Peter was still sitting propped up in bed in his comfortable sweatpants and hoodie, not having to change since the procedure was so simple, but with the addition of another IV catheter in his other arm connected to a bag of his own blood – donated earlier in the year for occasions such as this.

“So what did Dr. Cho want,” he asked, eyes still tired but shining with his usual intelligence and a bit of curiosity.

“Figured we wouldn’t be able to get that past you,” Tony said sardonically, taking a seat on the edge of Peter’s bed, facing him. “Helen wants to place an NG tube while you’re under. Wait,” he said, holding up a hand preemptively when Peter opened his mouth. “You’ve lost too much weight as it is and it’s going to be hard to put it back on with the bland diet she’s going to have you on while you heal. Doing this will make your recovery go so much faster.”

“I don’t want to be stuck in here,” Peter grumbled, gesturing the the room and Tony let one side of his mouth tick up in a smile.

“Hate to break it to you kiddo,” he said, “but that’s already a forgone conclusion.” The kid groaned and Tony let a full smile pull across his face, many of his previous worries eased with the diagnosis and treatment plan. “Let Cho do this and I’ll pull as many strings as I have to to spring you early. Deal?”

Peter made a face, his nose crinkled in disgust but he nodded in defeat anyway. “Two days. At most.”

“Three,” Tony haggled, holding out a hand which Peter eventually took with a sigh. “Great! FRI, relay that to Helen please.”

“Done Boss. She said she’ll be ready for Peter in about ten minutes.”

“Thanks honey,” he said, still smiling. “I’ll call May while you’re out and have Happy pick her up after her shift. She can stay here for the next few days.”

“Thanks Mr. Stark,” Peter said, his voice still sounding more destroyed than Tony had ever heard it but lighter somehow – probably because he could see the light at the end of the tunnel and knew he would be feeling much better soon.

“Anytime kiddo. Anytime.”

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: I measure every Grief I meet

Summary: Batman arrives in time and Jason spends hours buried beneath his father’s corpse, crying and begging and bleeding before Alfred finally manages to contact someone to come bring them home. Ethiopia is a constant in most universes, but who dies isn’t written in stone.

AN: Y’all remember when I said I had big angst coming? This is it. Have fun!

There were three truths to being Robin.

1.      You are the distraction. The hits they see coming but don’t expect to hurt. The bright light, the laughter and the joy.

2.      You are half of a whole. Batman and Robin are a team, which is why you shouldn’t fly on your own.

And most importantly:

3.      Batman will always catch you, no matter what.

Jason had held onto that last truth even when the Joker wouldn’t stop beating him and all he wanted to do was scream. His legs were on fire, the few steps he had taken had been worse than any beating he had endured before. Jason knew that once the adrenaline wore off, he wouldn’t be able to move them at all. All Jason wanted to was scream, or better yet, take the fucking crowbar and hit the Joker right back with it until he was lying on the floor, blood slowly collecting under his head-

But Jason couldn’t. He had to endure, had to save his energy until Bruce would come and get him.

He’d make it.

Jason knew he’d arrive.

Bruce always did.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Jason saw the Joker returning from the back of the warehouse. He tried to keep his breathing even like he hadn’t started struggling to push air in and out of his lungs hours ago. He wanted to shut his eyes, spare himself the sight of a future filled with broken bones, a blood-drenched uniform and pus covered lacerations. But Jason had to stay awake, stay aware. The moment he lost consciousness of what was done to him, he’d lose whatever advantage he still had.

Even if the said advantage was only knowing what weapon the Joker had taken to his bruised body. Instead of the anticipated object of torture, the Joker returned holding onto a coat. Instead of stopping beside Jason, he walked towards the entrance of the warehouse.

“Okay, kiddo, I gotta go,” the Joker began to speak. Jason noticed how rough and low his voice sounded. He’d never heard it so deep. Usually, it was as high-pitched and disorientating as nails on a blackboard, screeching birds, a violin played by a beginner.

“It’s been fun, alright. Well, maybe a smidge more fun for me than you.”

The Joker shrugged as if he were talking about daily trivialities. “I’m just guessing since you’re being awfully quiet.”

He watched Jason just a moment longer, his eyes too sharp, too calculating. There was madness in these green pits of poison, but it wasn’t the kind found before the jump into insanity. This was afterward, calculated unhingedness betting on sudden terrifying inspirations for an even more gruesome plan.

“Anyway! Be a good boy, finish your homework and be in bed by nine. And hey! Please tell the big man I said hello.”

The Joker finished putting on his coat. The jarring of the door mashed with the Joker’s laughter, the sound still echoing in the silence that followed.

Jason allowed himself two short breaths, then he rolled backwards to get on his feet. His… everything protested vividly with pinpricks against him moving. He managed two wonky steps forwards before crashing to the ground again. His body begged for rest, but the door was right there. Jason just had to keep moving forward.

He’d get out of this.

He would go home and apologize to Alfred for running away without another word. Ask Babs to teach him that cool kick she did on their last joined patrol. Call Dick and tell him he’d like to just hang out sometime and try out this whole siblings package that came with being Bruce Wayne’s son.

Jason would go back home and hug his Dad and promise to never ever take on such a dumb and dangerous risk headfirst again. He’d honor the ‘you’re worth more than the mission,’ whispered at his bedside when Bruce thought Jason was asleep.

Hot tears ran over Jason’s cheeks. He lifted his right arm and pushed himself forward. Then he moved his left arm, bare skin scraping over the dirty floor of the warehouse. One arm after another, Jason slowly crawled towards his freedom.

It’s a trap, his ever vigilante sub-consciousness whispered. It sounded like a starved child begging for food on the streets. The Joker’s right behind that. He’s waiting for you. He’ll grab your ankles and drag you back inside again and laugh and laugh and laugh.

He didn’t slow down.

Jason was choking on his own spit and blood, but he didn’t dare stop even for a second longer than necessary. The way over to the door took ages so that he could hardly believe it when he actually made it. Reenergized, Jason jogged the door handle, but it didn’t move.

The door didn’t open.

Hysteria bubbled up in his mind, emerging from his throat as barely contained whimpers. He just wanted out, he wanted to go home.

Sobbing, Jason leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.

Everything would be alright. He was still here, but the Joker wasn’t. Bruce would find him in no time. He was Batman. They were a team. They didn’t- shouldn’t leave each other behind.

And if not for that fucking ticking noise, Jason would be able to focus on that as well, instead of crying like a child. The noise kept distracting him, reminding him painfully of every second passing away while Jason had to wait for rescue. Like the world’s most annoying countdown, the ticking continued.

Jason opened his eyes and turned his head so fast that he became nauseous.

A small black box covered in tape and wires was lying innocently on the wooden boxes to Jason’s left.

Tick. Tock.

A Bomb.

There wasn’t even a minute left until it would blow up. It would set the sky ablaze, burn everything in reach to ashes and Jason-

20.

Jason was right in the middle of it.

17.

He’d die.

15.

Bruce would be too late and he’d die.

13.

The door to Jason’s right crashed open. A shadow, tall, dark, imposing and so familiar.

“Jay, son-“

“Bomb!” Jason screamed and Bruce didn’t even bother to search for it. He pulled Jason close and began to run. The warehouse and the bomb to their back. Jason’s head was resting in the crook of Bruce’s neck.

He exhaled.

Fire torched the earth.

X

Jason’s ears were ringing. 

Everything was silent, yet the screaming in his head wouldn’t stop. It assaulted his mind like the crescendo of an untuned violin. Small fires crawled over the remains of the warehouse to his right. The flames must be cracking, whispering of destruction, but all Jason heard was the terrifying emptiness of a high-pitched whirring.

Jason coughed and tried to push air into his lungs, but all that seemed to slip in was ashes. The air smelled of burned flesh and the weight on his chest made it impossible to move. 

“B?” Jason rasped.

He needed Bruce to get off. They had to start going; staying close to explosion sites was dangerous, especially in their condition. Bruce would have to carry Jason. He knew he wouldn’t be able to take another step on his own. Bruce had shielded him with his body, but the shock from the fall to the harsh ground hadn’t improved Jason’s wounds either.

“Batman?” Jason tried again. “We need to move.”

Jason could barely make out his own words. He knew he was moving his mouth and his tongue, so he must be making words. Why wasn’t Bruce reacting? “Batman!”

Silence still. Terror seized control of Jason’s voice.

“Bruce, please, wake up.”

He didn’t know what to do. Jason could count the times Bruce hadn’t been able to act on one hand, and then he had been mind-controlled, or sick. Not like this. Unmoving. The smell of burned flesh. As still as the dead-

Jason’s heartbeat accelerated, he thought his heart was about to claw itself out of his ribcage.

“Dad,” he said. “Dad, please. Wake up. I need you to wake up, don’t leave me here alone. Please don’t leave me. I’m sorry, please. I promise. Wake up. Wake up, wake up. Dad, please, wake up-”

X

Jason woke up in a hospital. The smell of antiseptics stung in his nose and his throbbing head made it difficult to open his eyes.

The world was silent.

Jason had been to plenty hospitals since he had been adopted. Bruce supported many hospitals, if not all of Gotham’s clinics, and took to visiting regularly. Jason had tagged along whenever he’d felt like it. Most of the time, he would sneak away to the children’s wing and done cartwheels for the youngest – or snuck in sweets and snacks that were better than the gross cafeteria food.

In all his visits, though, even on the intensive care station, the hospital had never been this silent.

Jason forced himself to open his eyes, and to his relief, his sight wasn’t immediately assaulted by bright white light. His room was as dark as night in Gotham with plenty of shadows that looked just vaguely human enough to scare you. The curtains were drawn and the only source of light was the TV in the corner, running the news from what he could tell.

Vicky Vale stood in front of a building Jason recognized as the Wayne Enterprises' main office. More people surrounded the plaza around it, bringing flowers, candles and balloons.

Jason must be in Gotham again. When had that happened? He’d been in Ethiopia with Bruce just before-

A sharp pain exploded in Jason’s head and he instinctively raised his hands to massage his head, an action his ribs immediately protested against.

Bruce.

He had to go check on him. Surely he was close. He was always there when Jason felt unwell. Jason had woken up so often at night with Bruce asleep at his bedside. He was probably just down the hallway.

Jason pushed the blanket off his bandage covered legs and tentatively sat his feet on the ground. He didn’t have any crutches, but the IV stand would do as well. He braced himself for pain when he shifted his weight to his feet, but thankfully only a dull numbness greeted him. Given his injuries, Jason knew standing shouldn’t be so easy. They must have given him the good stuff.

Jason gritted his teeth and took his first step. He hated painkillers.

Soon enough, Jason opened the door and reached the busy hall of the hospital. People were chatting away, running around, moving.

Jason couldn’t hear a thing, nothing but a very low rumble he wasn’t sure he was just imagining.

One of the nurses spotted him and began talking, but Jason still couldn’t make out any sounds.

“Where’s my Dad?” He said, or perhaps he shouted instead. In his panic, it might have been either or both, Jason couldn’t tell.

The nurse kept talking, moving towards him, so Jason took a step back. “Where is he!?”

There was a hand on his shoulder and Jason, all injuries be damned to hell and back, was ready to flip whoever was playing this fucked up prank on him. His hand was already at the other’s wrists, and if he hadn’t turned around in the last second, he would have followed through with it too.

“Alfred.”

Seeing Alfred amidst the chaos washed all tension off Jason’s shoulder.

“Alfred, what’s going? Where’s Bruce- Alfie?”

Alfred looked so tired, exhausted beyond his years. He had always been an unmoving constant in Jason’s world. The closest they’d get to immortality without Ra’s al Ghul he had joked with Bruce. For the first time since Jason had seen Alfred, there was nothing graceful about the butler’s age. He looked exhausted in the same way Bruce did when the two of them had to bury another child after a long night.

Alfred’s mouth moved and words must be coming out.

“I can’t hear you,” Jason said, desperation clinging to him. “Why can’t I hear you?”

Alfred was silent.

X

They went back into Jason’s room and soon after a doctor came to them. She was holding a tablet and typed out what she was saying, painstakingly slowly in Jason’s opinion. He’d been here for two days already apparently and went through a lot of surgery. They’d take him down to another station to get his ears checked out now.

“Where’s Bruce?”

Jason made sure to speak slowly, pronounce every syllable correctly without Crime Alley’s drawls. Maybe they all just couldn’t understand him properly. He felt as if he had asked this question a thousand times already. He just wanted to see his dad.

Alfred’s face was ashen and he put an arm around Jason’s shoulder.

Jason didn’t get it.

And then, when he read Alfred’s message on the tablet, he thought he had forgotten how to read as well.

Master Bruce had already passed by the time you were brought to the hospital.

Jason’s shoulders trembled and he began to laugh. High-pitched, he assumed, but he couldn’t tell because he couldn’t hear and couldn’t read too apparently because his dad wasn’t dead.

Batman couldn’t die.

X

It was Superman who had found them, supposedly.

Jason didn’t recall anything but his own pitiful begging until his tears had exhausted him and he had let himself be welcomed by the merciful emptiness.

They’d been kidnapped by the Joker.

[Lie: Jason had gone to the warehouse by himself.]

They had managed to escape.

[Truth: They had been outside.]

They had been caught by the blast.

[Truth: The heat hadn’t touched Jason but it had melted the Batsuit to Bruce’s skin, scorched his skin black.]

Superman had come across them by chance.

[Lie: Alfred had taken an hour until he had been able to connect to a League member. And then another thirty minutes until Clark Kent could get to them.]

Jason had been unconscious when they had been found.

[Truth: He had spent 83 minutes and 47 seconds buried in-between rubble and his father’s corpse, breathing in ashes and blood. He’d been awake for almost all of it, choking on his tears and his words.]

Jason was lucky. He was alive.

[Lie: He woke up with nightmares, words on his tongue he couldn’t speak. It said “Sensorineural Hearing Loss” on the white paper sheet the doctor had handed Alfred, but all Jason really saw punishment befitting the crime. He hadn’t listened. Now he wouldn’t ever hear again.]

Bruce Wayne was dead.

[Truth: Gotham was mourning, pouring flowers and light all over the streets for its favorite son. They didn’t even know yet that Batman was gone too.

And so was Robin.]

X

When Dick stepped onto the Watchtower, he was capital P Pissed. The Titans weren’t the League’s children’s club they could order around like they wanted. Dick knew the League respected them, but this first generation of heroes only ever acknowledged their boundaries when it benefited them. This was why Dick had left Gotham in the end.

Bruce could be proud of him as much as he wanted, but as long as he still expected Dick to come each time he called and follow every other like a perfect little soldier, there was nothing left in Gotham for Dick.

He had practiced his speech on the entire way back. He’d give Bruce a piece of his mind, maybe force the League to stick to some kind of regulations.

The words were stuck in his throat the moment he saw Superman.

No matter what, Clark Kent was always a rock you could lean on. He carried so much weight on his shoulders and rarely let anyone see his weaknesses. Bruce had called his behavior foolish and necessary at the same time.

Dick was vaguely aware that if there was anyone Clark confided in, it had to be Bruce. The thought that Clark must have terrible days too had never really occurred to Dick.

Clark looked grim, and so did the rest of the League.

Founders meetings didn’t happen very often since the heroes were already busy enough. Yet there all of them were, with the notable exception of Batman.

“What happened?” Dick asked.

It was Wonder Woman who spoke up first. “Two weeks ago, Robin and Batman confronted the Joker in Ethiopia. The Joker managed to escape and has so far escaped the League’s grasp. Robin has been severely injured, but is recovering steadily.”

Dread filled Dick’s thoughts. “And Batman?”

Diana stood up and walked over to Dick, taking his hands into hers as she had always done when he was young, walking around the Watchtower while Bruce was in surgery.

“Batman passed away on the 27th of April. We tried to reach you faster. His funeral is today.”

X

There were paparazzi everywhere. They were screaming his name, trying to get his attention, and Dick tried to block them all out. Kori squeezed his hand and helped him move forward. His side was still hurting from the battle he’d been in hours ago. All of it felt so surreal and fake.

Dick had seen Bruce injured plenty of time, but he had never expected those injuries to mean anything besides a little more physical therapy and another disapproving look from Alfred.

Dick knew death - it was a part of their lives.

He didn’t expect it to ever haunt him personally again. Not like this.

(He had healed before hadn’t he? Those wounds had closed, yet here they were again: wide open.)

They had reserved the first rows for family and friends. If Alfred looked bad, Jason looked downright horrible. He was sitting in a wheelchair, makeup partially hiding bruises and scars. He hadn’t bothered to cover up the bags under his eyes. Babs and the Commissioner were at the front, as well as Oliver. Dick could spot Selina in the crowd and various other Justice League members in civilian uniform. From the Kane family, only Kate had shown up, wearing a suit. Her hair was as bright as Dick remembered it from the last time he had seen her.

His relationship with Kate had always been strange. She wasn’t that much older than him, but Bruce had always treated her differently. She was his cousin and Dick was his-

Dick bit on his lips. He wanted to look at anything else. Everything but the closed casket in front of him.

He failed.

He needed to check the autopsy files later, see what had actually happened. The League’s report hadn’t even scratched the surface.

The music began to play and everybody stood up.

Dick would go to the Batcave and search for an explanation. Something about this didn’t add up in his mind and he would figure it out.

X

Jason didn’t know what the hell all the people were talking about. He didn’t even know why so many people were at the funeral. The family’s circle of friends hadn’t been all that big. Most of these people were only here for their own benefit. After all, they hadn’t been there when Bruce had-

When he-

They hadn’t been there.

Never mind Dick who looked like he was paying about as much attention to it all as Jason. Jason had excuses at least. He couldn’t hear what was going on, wouldn’t for a while longer until his ears healed the little bit they might still, and he’d get hearing aids. Jason had already cried plenty for his father. Screamed and raged too, threw books against the wall and hoped he would grow satisfied by seeing everything crash and burn.

He’d only felt horrible afterward, cried because he had damaged the Anne of Green Gables book Bruce’s mother had bought decades ago and Bruce had entrusted to him.

This funeral was useless. Jason had never been to a funeral, he only knew where his mother, where Catherine Todd, was buried thanks to Bruce researching it. Jason hadn’t been involved in her funeral. He had been searching through trash cans, looking for food.

He should have stayed in Crime Alley.

He ruined everything he touched.

X

The Cave welcomed Dick home. The familiar moving shadows embraced him, eyes watched his back and the low whirring of the Bat-Computer powering up echoed in his ears. Kori had gone back to the Titans after the funeral, they needed her more than Dick did at the moment. He would have gone with her too if he’d gotten access to the Cave immediately. But Alfred had decided to be difficult about it all. He had pretty much outright forbidden Dick from going down to the Cave. It was only after Alfred had gone out with Jason a week later to get the kid his hearing aids that Dick could finally sneak it.

Because of course he had to hack the system to get access. Damn Alfred’s paranoia.

Dick had spent many hours in the Cave, but he’d never really been alone for long. To know that he really was the only person here was strange, to say the least.

Quickly, Dick headed for the Batcomputer and opened the archive. He searched for the files that set up this whole Ethiopia mess. If there was one thing Dick had to be thankful for considering his vigilante upbringing, it was the many hours Bruce had spent with him, teaching him how to organize exactly. Bruce was a neat freak, and his own files were all categorized per date, case, duration, participants, crime and so on. Dick used a similar if slightly simplified filing system and had more or less forced his teammates to adapt to it.

Dick grinned triumphantly when he found the beginning of this particular case. He’d have to cross-reference it with the undercover cases later on to figure out what Bruce needed to disappear for.

Dick knew he and Bruce weren’t exactly on speaking terms right now, but he’d thought that for instances such as faking the death of your civilian persona, he’d have gotten a note, a call, anything.

Emotionally stunted as Bruce was, he wouldn’t just disappear on Dick like that.

He’d promised Dick.

The more Dick read, the more confused he became. Where was the hidden plot?

Groaning, Dick pushed himself away from the Batcomputer and marched over to the cabinet with the paper files. It was impossible to hack the computer unless you were Barbara Gordon, but Bruce still kept some of the critical data on paper so that you needed access to the Cave to read those files, and the Cave could withstand WW3. If there was anything more profound to it all, then surely the secret had to be hidden in-between these documents.

Dick carefully combed through the different cases, forced himself to read on where Bruce’s elegant handwriting turned into short chicken-scratches. More often than he expected, Dick had to stop and go to the mats, burn away the images of torn-apart bodies, thin children with no clothes, and horror stories of Gotham’s dirty streets. Dick had known that Gotham could be this cruel, but Bruce had never let him see these cases.

At the very end of the pile, Dick had to admit that there was nothing on these blood-stained pages that explained Bruce’s actions.

Frustrated, Dick went back to the computer to check the recordings. He still hadn’t gone through all the audio files because he usually didn’t have the patience to sit down and listen for a longer duration. And most of the time, the audios were pretty useless as well.

Dick dropped back into the massive chair in front of the computer. It was big and comfortable, he’d fallen asleep in it when he was younger and waiting up for Bruce to return home. He’d always woken up in his bed the next morning.

Dick opened up the file and it began to play.

“Bomb!”

Static.

“Jay, Jay, you’re okay-“

And the rain started pouring.

X

The manor was loud when Alfred and Jason returned. After the two weeks of mostly total silence, every sound had Jason jumping at his own shadows. His hearing aids worked as well as they could, though Jason still had troubles with certain sounds. Alfred had suggested visiting Lucius in the next days, have him take a look at them.

Jason thought he was comfortable hiding away in his room for the foreseeable future, but before he could voice such thoughts, Alfred was ushering Jason into the kitchen.

It had been a quiet, peaceful May day outside. Sunshine warmth and bird songs.

Alfred wanted to make him a hot chocolate either way and Jason was sure it was more for Alfred’s sake than Jason’s own. He wondered if drinking the hot beverage in silence was their thing. Instead of talking, they hid away in the kitchen, drowning their sorrows in sweetness as the sun disappeared behind the horizon.

The kitchen was already occupied when they entered.

“Master Dick,” Alfred said, his tone almost wary.

Jason didn’t know what for. Dick had stayed away from everyone in the past weeks. Or he had stayed away from Jason at least, and in such a big and empty house, Jason was pretty much everyone. If Dick wanted to join them for dinner now, it wasn’t Jason’s place to protest.

(Though there were several things on Jason’s mind he wanted to scream at him.)

“I’ll be making hot chocolate for Master Jason and I, and I prepared lasagna for dinner. Will you be joining us?”

Dick's eyes were blue.

Barbara had made jokes about it. It had been Jason’s first time meeting Batgirl and he’d tried to impress her with a rather amateur flip. She’d smiled at him regardless.

“Gosh, B!” She had said. “Are you sure you’re not cloning yourself to get such a talented little Robins?”

Dick’s eyes weren’t blue anymore. They were stormy gray, tidal waves and hurricanes, rage, and anger.

“You’re the reason Bruce is dead,” Dick said.

His face was impassive, but his look made Jason freeze up on the spot.

“Master Dick-“

“He wouldn’t be dead, if not for you,” Dick continued, now rising to his full height.

Jason used to wonder how people could be intimidated by the ever-smiling, joyful and perfect Dick Grayson.

He didn’t anymore.

“I-“

“You got my Dad killed!” Dick shouted and lunged forward, his hands at Jason’s collar.

Not even Alfred’s shocked protests could drown out the sounds of explosions in Jason’s head because Dick was right. Jason had been stupid and reckless and only he was to blame that the two of them were orphans once more.

“I know,” he said when he finally found his voice again. Dick was still caught up in his righteous fury. “It’s my fault. I know. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to- I didn’t- I’m-“

Dick let go of him and stormed out of the room.

Alfred stayed with Jason, put his hands on his back and let him cry into his neck, all while whispering sweet but useless reassurances into Jason’s ears.

He knew he was to blame.

(He wished it would have been him too.)

X

When Dick could finally feel again, he was halfway across Gotham in his Nightwing suit.

Bruce was dead.

He was dead, dead, dead deaddeaddead-

He had promised. Bruce had promised that he’d never leave Dick. He wouldn’t die, he wouldn’t make Dick bury another parent. Oh god, he had buried his father, Bruce’s burned body had been in that coffin, Dick had just stood there and watched as they killed his father a second time because he hadn’t known-

“Breathe, Dick. Look at me. Dick, can you hear me?”

Dick wanted to throw out another cheap line about hearing. He wasn’t the Robin who had lost his hearing. He’d only lost his father, his wings, the one person who’d always catch him, be it when he was falling from chandeliers or buildings. Even when they had been separated by different cities, Dick had been aware of Bruce’s shadow lingering somewhere nearby.

“Dick, son, are you alright?”

“No,” Dick replied. “I’m not okay, Uncle Clark.”

Dick held onto Superman’s cape. Clark’s heartbeat was a slow and steady one, grounding.

“I know. It’s alright.”

“It’s not. He’s really gone, isn’t he? Bruce is dead. And I wasn’t fast enough. I shouldn’t have left him or Gotham. I could have stopped this. If I’d been-“

“Here? Faster?”

Dick slowly let go of Clark. He wanted to rub his eyes, wash away the tear stains, but he couldn’t. Years of being told to never take off his mask had stuck.

“It wasn’t your fault, Dick,” Clark said. “You couldn’t have known. You weren’t even on-planet. Don’t blame yourself.”

No, Dick couldn’t have known. But he should have. He and Bruce had been partners, even if Dick had left to stretch his wings and Bruce had brought Jason in – he’d still been Dick’s partner. If not for Jason, Bruce wouldn’t have gotten into this situation in the first place, but Dick couldn’t change the premise. That too was a lesson Bruce had taught him early on.

You cannot change the situation, only the players.

So who had been there, or rather, who hadn’t?

Alfred must have suffered terribly at the other end of the comm. Line. Listening to his son’s last words trying to organize a rescue-

Dick tensed.

“Look, if there’s anything you need-“

 “You said you were listening,” Dick interrupted softly. He had screamed his throat sore just hours ago in the Cave. “You promised, Clark. You said you always had an ear on my father’s heartbeat and you didn’t.”

What was the Justice League even for if they weren’t there for each other? A whole world to protect and they couldn’t even keep one of their own safe.

“Dick-“

Dick turned around and stared into the black void of Crime Alley beneath him. He couldn’t look into Clark’s face anymore. See his worry and pity and guilt. He should have just been faster instead.

“Go away, Superman. Your kind isn’t welcome in Gotham.”

Dick jumped.

And for the first time in years, he was wondering how he’d reach the ground.

X

Jason fucking hated his hearing aids. He hated a lot of things recently starting with his pain medication, the press and the fact that Gotham still seemed to be holding her breath even though it was all over already. Bruce was dead, and so was Batman.

He didn’t know what everyone was waiting for anymore.

Jason dragged himself out of his bed and room for lunch. Alfred insisted that they ate together, what for Jason didn’t know. He wouldn’t be able to sit in the same room and cook a meal for his son’s murderer.

(Because that was what he ought to call himself.)

Dick hadn’t returned to the manor in the past weeks or, if he had, Jason hadn’t seen him. The past had proven once already that he wasn’t the most observant person or a good judge of character.

Jason sighed when he reached the top of the staircase. He hated walking them up and down every day, but he wouldn’t tell Alfred about it. Jason was causing enough trouble as it was.

Once he reached the bottom, he sat down for another few minutes to catch his breath. He’d lowered his medication dosage and was paying for it now. He just wanted to get off them as soon as possible. He hated taking the little white pills, they brought up too many ugly memories.

Jason continued on to the kitchen. They didn’t eat in the dining room anymore, Jason didn’t know why.

Maybe the table was just too big for them.

When Jason stepped into the kitchen, the smell of burned flesh assaulted him. He couldn’t even make it to the sink. He just toppled over and threw up right on the kitchen tiles. He heaved until his stomach was empty and only fluids crawled up his throat. Alfred’s hands were on Jason’s back, but they weren’t enough.

“Everything will be alright, lad. Breathe with me, Jason.”

But he couldn’t.

He just kept on hoping for air when he was drowning in the deep waters.

X

Alfred tried to make Jason go see a therapist.

Jason thought it was stupid and promptly voiced it. He hadn’t meant to start shouting, but by the time he had realized what he’d done, it was already too late.

Alfred didn’t bring it up again, but he gave Jason access to the Cave again.

Jason hadn’t been in there since before Ethiopia and he only got as far as the first case holding the Batman suit.

(He didn’t throw up again, but it was a close call.)

He had hurried back upstairs, nearly running past Bruce’s bedroom. He hadn’t meant to stop and stare, but he couldn’t help himself. Slowly Jason opened the door. He knew the door usually screeched every time you moved it. Bruce hadn’t wanted to oil the hinges because it alerted him whenever someone opened the door. Jason had thought the explanation was bullshit, but Bruce had been awake every time Jason had crawled into his bed at night.

The sheets smelled like they always did.

Jason woke up screaming.

X

Maybe hiding away in Barbara’s Clocktower was cowardly, but Dick didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t return to the manor, despite Alfred’s many unanswered calls and voice messages. Barbara hadn’t said anything against him staying with her either, yet. She had handed him a pillow and a blanket, pointed him into the direction of the sofa and that was it. While she worked, Dick did coffee runs, cooked, cleaned or spent hours staring at the ceiling like it could tell him what is next step should be.

And every night, without fail, Dick put on his suit and headed outside, chasing crime out of Gotham’s streets and venting his frustrations.

He knew he shouldn’t go out when he was so full of rage, but he didn’t know how to stop.

(Bruce used to be the one who decided that they should have a movie night every time Dick was too angry for patrol. He hadn’t noticed it as a kid, but now Dick knew what his father had been doing and he missed those times.)

“Are you staying?” Barbara asked one morning when he returned.

Dick was still wearing his suit, his hair was shiny because of how much he had been sweating.

“What?”

Barbara didn’t look away from her many screens. She was calculating something, observing Arkham on another screen, Blackgate on another, and the listening device was recording a conversation and sending it straight to her server.

“Are you staying in Gotham or returning to Blüdhaven? I need to know so I can script patrol routes accordingly.”

The question caught Dick off-guard. “I don’t know.”

“Then make up your mind.”

Dick threw his hands up in the air. “Can’t I get just five minutes to think about it?”

His tone must have been harsher than he had intended. When Barbara turned around, she looked downright murderous. Her auburn hair appeared to be on fire with the light of the screens behind her. Dick had never believed that her injury would interfere with her capability to be an absolute terror. Still, he had never expected to be at the receiving end of her righteous fury.

“You’ve had more than five minutes already, Dick. You’ve had hours, days, weeks. I need to know now so I can start setting up an actual working system for Gotham!”

“What gave you the right-“

“What gave me the right!?” She interrupted him. “I’m Oracle. Bruce left his city to me. I’m supposed to know it all and right now I’m the only reason Gotham hasn’t been devoured by gang wars already, but I don’t know how long I can keep this up when working with uncertainties. Tell me now if you’re staying or leaving so that I can do my work.”

She was breathing heavily and her eyes, though her glasses hid it well, were red-rimmed. When he thought of it, Dick had never seen Barbara sleep in the past weeks.

“I-“ He glanced at her screens. There was a robbery going on in City Hall. “I need to go.”

Dick fled.

X

Nightwing caught the robbers still in the act. He quickly knocked them out and put them into cuffs. The police would arrive in the next fifteen minutes, Dick was sure. The night was as clean as it could be in Gotham, and with summer underway, Dick didn’t need to feel bad for leaving the robbers right there on the ground.

Dick had perhaps apprehended the robbers in a much harsher way than he could have, but he was just so angry. He wanted something to hurt. Others, his hands, his heart – he didn’t care as long as he was feeling anything that wasn’t the dark pit clawing itself open with razor-sharp nails.

Dick moved further south, as far away from the Clocktower, the manor, the Cave, the Grave as he could. He hadn’t patrolled in Gotham in such a long time, every change caught him off-guard. Not all of them were massive, but Dick expected a house where there was none or empty space where there now rested a small playground. When Dick reached the docks, he was almost thankful that the old warehouses were still standing. Some of them had been torn down to make space for newer ones, but the oldest was still standing. Dick had fond memories of falling asleep its rusty roof while the sun rose and Bruce was sitting next to him.

He had always woken up in his bed again, except for the times Bruce also hadn’t made it up to Dick’s room again and had just let Dick fall asleep next to Bruce.

Gotham’s sunrises were beautiful. The polluted air made the colors all that more vibrant. Almost neon. The prettiest there were.

Nobody would carry him back to his room.

His father was dead and Dick hadn’t had the chance to apologize to Bruce and come home again.

He should have never left Gotham.

X

When Dick fucking finally showed his face again, he looked just as angry and grim as the last time Jason had seen him. There was a different edge to it though, the same kind of exhaustion Jason had been able to trace in Bruce’s face after bad nights.

Jason had taken to working on his homework in the Cave. Up in the manor, he couldn’t concentrate. Everything looked so normal like nothing had changed, like Jason hadn’t brought everything down crashing.

In the Cave, surrounded by the familiar smell of sweat, machinery and leather, Jason could breathe and focus. He caught up on schoolwork he’d missed, vowed to excel at it for the praise he’d never hear again. Dick suddenly showing up there wasn’t part of the plan.

Alfred hadn’t allowed Jason to drop the speech therapy. Jason frankly speaking didn’t see the point of it. He already knew the basics of ASL and with the adjustments Lucius had made to his hearing aids, Jason was alright. The world wasn’t silent anymore, even if it wasn’t as loud and clear as it used to be, but Jason could make up for it. He’d managed on the streets with broken bones, bruised ribs and scraped knees.

He didn’t understand how meeting with some lady with eyes filled with pity was supposed to improve anything – or what the point of going to that equally stupid children’s group was. He didn’t fucking want to interact with any of them and he most definitely didn’t want to be stuck there for two hours every Saturday. He could be using his time more productively, studying, researching, tracking that fucking clown down since the Justice League was apparently too god damn incompetent.

Jason didn’t need any help.

He wasn’t just born with a mistake, he was the fucking mistake. It would be better for everyone if they stopped trying to fix it and just left him alone.

X

Dick didn’t know what the hell Jason was doing in the Cave. He had no right to be there, but since Alfred was apparently letting him in there, Dick couldn’t kick him out either. And the brat was stubborn. He glared at Dick every time he entered the Cave, but Dick’s presence obviously wasn’t enough to make him leave or speak up.

The kid was just always there, observing, judging.

It was worse than Barbara’s anger when Dick had returned to her to apologize – after a week of sleeping in Bruce’s safe houses. She had been right. Dick needed to step up and act to protect what he had abandoned. During the night, he refamiliarized himself with Gotham. He needed to know every corner, every territory, every gang and very loose brick if he wanted to do as he once did: fight and bleed for this city.

Batman’s absence had shifted Gotham’s carefully crafted balance into disorder. The Rogues were careful still, but soon enough Batman would have been gone too long for them to still care about repercussions. They would just lash out and injure whoever their closest target was.

None of this would have happened if Dick hadn’t left. He needed to fix it, try to stitch up the bleeding wound of Bruce’s absence. He could do it. He had to.

Bruce used to believe in him.

Dick hoped that despite his own flaws, his father had never stopped.

It wasn’t easy to pull up the schematics of the batsuit, but it got more bearable with every word Dick read. Bruce had made a lot of changes since Dick had been Robin, continually improving his armor. A lot of it wouldn’t work for Dick, his fighting style was too different, but he too could adjust. He owed it to Bruce.

The cape had to be shorter, the armor lighter.

Time to get to work.

X

Jason hadn’t known what Dick was doing in the Cave, not until Dick had asked Alfred for help. The butler wasn’t pleased with whatever Dick was attempting – probably something stupid – but he was still helping him, if reluctantly. It reminded Jason of the times he and Bruce had snuck away from galas to go on patrol.

“Do you think it will hold up?” Dick asked Alfred. Jason watched them out of the corner of his eyes, tried to make it seem like he wasn’t paying attention to what they were saying. They were a little out of his reach, it sucked that he couldn’t hear them. He should look into tweaking his hearing aids, giving himself a broader range, he thought as he subtly moved closer to the conversation.

“It should,” Alfred replied. “Though, I’m not sure you’ll be able to fool Gordon.”

Dick snorted. “There’s no fooling him. He knows exactly who we are. He just lies because he’s a cop and all cops lie. He’s just one of those who knows what the line should be.”

And then Dick picked something up from the table. Long and dark fabric fell to the ground, the bat-symbol reflected the light it caught.

It was a batsuit. A new one.

“No.”

Jason didn’t notice he had said it out loud until Alfred and Dick both turned to him. Jason stood up from his chair and walked over to Alfred and Dick. Dick might have the advantage of years of training, but he hadn’t been forced to steal for his survival. Jason snatched the uniform right out of his hands.

“Hey!”

“You don’t deserve this,” Jason hissed. “You have no right to walk in here and put on his mark again!”

With every word Jason said, his voice grew louder, stronger, more resolute.

Dick’s storm returned full force and he stood up straighter. “Now, you, listen to me-“

“No! Fuck you!” Jason didn’t back down, not this time. He knew he was a screw-up, but Richard John Look At Me I Can’t Do No Fucking Wrong Grayson didn’t get to pretend he wasn’t. “You walked out of this and you don’t get to come back. The only person who can allow that is dead and you don’t fucking get to wear his uniform. You’re not Batman! You can’t be!”

“And you can!?” Dick shouted back.

His wrath was impressive, but Jason wouldn’t let him take this away from him. He would fight and bleed and suffer if that meant that Dick wouldn’t ever touch a uniform.

“You don’t belong in Gotham, traitor!”

 “And you don’t belong in the manor!”

“Master Jason! Master Dick!”

Right now, Jason couldn’t care less about what Alfred had to say. He had vowed to protect Gotham and all the treasures left behind. He didn’t care about what happened to him, but nobody would tarnish Batman’s legacy with cowardice and weakness. Not as long as he was still standing.

“Fuck you, Grayson! Bruce chose me!”

Maybe he wouldn’t have if he knew what it would lead to. Or perhaps he would because Bruce had sat at Jason’s bedside, read for him, made him breakfast, didn’t get mad when Jason accidentally broke expensive vases or put stickers on the ancient wooden floors.

“He was my dad too and he wanted me. He was mine and you don’t get to take him away.”

Then, before Dick could think of a reply, Jason quickly ran off towards the stairs, the suit still in hand. He’d throw it in the trash, ruin it and ensure nobody could ever wear it.

Jason didn’t even manage step one of his plan. As soon as he was out of the Cave, he blindly ran upstairs, planning to cut his path to the kitchen short, but unfortunately, Jason still wasn’t healed completely, and not as fast as he knew he could be.

Dick caught up to him and gripped his shoulder when Jason was going at full speed. Jason fell backward, tumbling right into Dick’s chest.

“What the hell, Dickface!?” Jason shouted, he clutched the uniform as tight as he could, but Dick was stronger. He jacked it out of Jason’s hands like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Now you listen,” Dick said.

Jason looked up, ready to stare straight at a tidal wave of fury, persist and tear it down, but Dick’s face was blank. No anger, nothing.

“You don’t know anything about Bruce and me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jason challenged. “I know plenty-“

“You know nothing,” Dick replied, his voice tethering on the edge of dangerous. “And here’s the deal: You don’t say anything about it and I don’t make sure you never step on Gotham’s rooftops again.”

Jason stared at Dick in disbelief. How was this supposed to even be a threat? Dick couldn’t stop Jason from doing jack, no matter how hard he might try.

“I’m sorry, Grayson, did the truth hurt your feelings?”

Dick looked like he was reaching the end of his patience. Good. Jason wanted him to lose it, to prove he was just as much of a mess as the rest of them.

“Shut. Up. Jason. Just shut the fuck up. Bruce would be ashamed to hear you speak like that.”

Jason snarled and stepped forward to push Dick, but the older man avoided Jason by leaning to the right, evading him easily.

“Well, he isn’t here anymore! So who cares!?”

Dick moved away from Jason, mustering him again with that cold expression Jason couldn’t place.

“Gotham,” Dick then said and walked back into the direction the two of them had come from.

X

Bruce chose me!

Dick pulled the uniform close to his chest, inhaled and expected a scent he never entirely could forget. Sometimes he’d walk through Blüdhaven, catch it and get thrown right back into one of his fondest childhood memories. When he had been younger, he hadn’t understood how much work having a protégé must have been for Bruce. He had to make his files and the cases he allowed Robin to investigate childhood friendly, train him enough so that he wouldn’t have to worry every time Robin left his line of sight.

He was my dad too.

Of course, Bruce being Bruce, he would worry nevertheless, that was just in his nature. He wasn’t the poster child of articulating his feelings or thoughts very well, but Dick had never questioned that Bruce cared about him. He had proof of that buried beneath all the gruesome Ethiopia files he had hidden so deep down in the archive that nobody but him and Barbara would ever find it.

He wanted me.

Bruce would make Dick run laps until his legs gave out for how he’d been acting in the past weeks. Jason was fifteen for god’s sake and what had Dick done? Screamed in his face that it was Jason’s fault Bruce was dead when really, nobody but the Joker was to blame.

Dick didn’t have to like Jason, he didn’t know if he ever could, but he could start treating him like the victim instead of the offender. He was a child lashing out at everything and everyone he could get his hands on, Dick had to be patient.

Putting on the uniform for the first time was a strange feeling. When Dick looked in the mirror, he thought he was seeing someone else. His brain caught up only slowly, measuring the height of the vigilante in the mirror against what he knew Batman’s actual height was. The cape was too short, the waist too narrow and the chin not angular enough.

He was mine.

Dick looked like a child playing dress-up. It would have to be enough. (He would make sure of it.)

X

“The Signal has been lit again and for the first time in months-“

Switch.

“-Calendar Man escaped last week-“

Switch.

“I thought I wasn’t seeing correctly, but there he was-“

Switch.

“Batman-“

Switch.

“-Batman.”

Switch.

“-Batman-“

Switch.

“-Robin?”

Jason stopped flipping through the channels, which were all reporting the same thing. Batman had finally returned and caught the villain of the week. The people were celebrating, but Jason didn’t know what for. It had taken Dick much longer than it would have Bruce to capture Calendar Man. One person had died still. Batman hadn’t made his great comeback, he was lying six feet underground and maggots were eating away his skin. Dick was a terrible replacement and Barbara was the only reason he was functioning at all. Without Oracle’s help, the first scuffle he had gotten involved in, would have ended deadly.

“And still we wonder: What happened to Batman? And where is Robin? The Joker, too, hasn’t resurfaced yet and his madness looms like a threat over Gotham’s skyline. Many speculate-“

The TV cut off.

Jason looked to his right where he found Alfred holding the remote.

“You shouldn’t watch such rubbish, Master Jason,” Alfred said.

“Why? It’s not like they’re saying anything wrong. As soon as that clown comes out of his hideyhole, Dick is done for. He’s barely holding it together as he is.”

Jason pulled his knees to his chest and rested his chin on them. Where is Robin? The question echoed in his head. He was curled up on a comfortable sofa and the heavy blanket resting on his shoulders kept him warm. His wounds had healed, all of them, and he was almost back in shape. His legs still hurt more than they ought to when he didn’t land a role or a jump a hundred percent correctly, but that was to be expected. Bruce wouldn’t let him out on the streets yet, maybe in a week or two.

But he couldn’t.

Robin had caused all of this, he didn’t know how to fly anymore.

“Master Dick is trying his best,” Alfred said.

He took off his gloves and put them on the table in front of them. Then he sat down next to Jason and put one arm around Jason’s shoulders.

“His burden isn’t yours to carry and neither of you should feel like you have any weight on your shoulders at all. You are not to blame for the action of others.”

Jason bit on his lip until he could taste blood on his tongue. “But I am. I did this. I ruined it. I got him killed-“

His eyes burned. He had cried so often in the past weeks, when was it finally enough? He hated it, he wanted it to stop, but nothing he ever did went according to plan.

“You did not. You were trying to do an admirable task and save another person. Bruce wouldn’t want you to keep hurting yourself like this. He definitely wouldn’t blame you, either.”

Jason buried his head in Alfred’s chest as if that could stop the tears from flowing. They burned hot on his cheeks and his shoulders trembled as he tried to choke down the sobs.

“It will get better, Jason,” Alfred murmured. He held Jason close, both his arms acting as a shield, protecting Jason from the outside world. “It will get better.”

Jason wanted to believe it.

X

Blüdhaven was a terrible city to protect. Everybody was corrupt and Dick could count the people he could trust on one hand with a couple fingers still left over. However, Blüdhaven was also a lot smaller than Gotham. It wasn’t called Gotham’s little sister just because it inherited its gangs, it was also only roughly a third of its size.

Gotham was a lot more work than Blüdhaven. When Dick had started going out as Nightwing, the high amount of hours and sleepless nights that went into acting on your own had caught him slightly off guard. The first weeks hadn’t just sucked, they had been the worst.

Dick felt a lot like he was eighteen again, standing in front of a wall so high he wasn’t sure he could climb to the top. Dick wasn’t even working by himself, he had Oracle and her Birds of Prey. Catwoman too had taken up a much more active role, keeping check of East End. Her relationship with Bruce had always been a little strange, and it hadn’t gotten any clearer now that Dick was an adult and could understand parts of it. However, Selina Kyle had always been absolutely clear on the fact that she was no vigilante and certainly no hero.

Her more recent actions sung a different song, but Dick wasn’t going to ask her about it. He was grateful for all the help he got.

Batman’s mantle was a heavy weight, one Dick wasn’t sure wouldn’t suffocate him one day. He’d need to slow down a little, or the stress would catch up to him. His body was already a stunning blue and green pattern- there was no need to add any red to it because he couldn’t catch enough sleep.

Alfred wouldn’t be able to handle it and he already had his hands full with Jason.

Dick hadn’t seen him in the Cave lately, though he knew the teenager still sneaked in to look at the computer. Jason did a good job of covering his tracks, but Dick had been in this business longer than Jason. It had been almost twelve years now.

It felt like an eternity and a half.

Dick dropped in Bruce’s chair. (No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t think of the big chair as his own. Dick had hang on it when he was a child, climbing all over Bruce while he was trying not to spill any hot tea on Dick. It was always going to be Bruce’s throne to Dick.)

“Alright,” he muttered. “What does today’s schedule have for us?”

Barbara forwarded him any info she gathered. Some of it was already marked down as taken care of, but other cases were filled with more gaps and holes than Swiss cheese.

“Arms dealer, drug trafficking, …” The list went on and on and Dick had no idea where to start. It seemed like the moment he took down one operation, another was there to take its place.

Dick didn’t like the silence of the Cave, never had. Back in Blüdhaven, Dick would play musing while he was solving cases and before that, when he had been Robin, he had always been talking with Bruce – or at Bruce. His grunts and hums might not have been the greatest replies, but they had been enough for Dick. He missed them. The silence ate everything up.

Until it didn’t.

“Dick!”

Dick wasn’t prepared for Barbara’s face to suddenly show up on the computer screen. Her eyes were wide with shock, fear. Her breathing was uneven and shallow, signs of a panic attack.

“Barbara, what’s going on-“

“The Joker. He’s back. One of my camera’s picked him up. It’s him, I know it, Dick. It’s him, he’s back.”

Dick could feel all the blood drain from his face. For a moment, he was frozen. All the years of training him out of the habit seemed to disappear.

(“Fight or flight, chum. Choose either, but never freeze. There’s no shame in running away.”)

The cold determination took over.

“We’ll get him,” Dick said. ‘I will end him,’ he thought.

He suited up.

X

Jason carefully monitored Dick’s progress. He still sucked, but the fact that he needed Jason’s help was becoming painfully obvious. Jason had thought about abandoning Dick, but then he might as well burn Bruce’s grave to the ground.

Dick was trying to keep Gotham standing when Jason couldn’t. He had to help him or people would get hurt and die. Gotham needed Batman and if Dick was the only viable candidate, then Jason would ensure he wouldn’t come back to the Cave with more bullets than blood in his body. Jason left notes on the Batcomputer, correcting Dick’s records and adding background information Dick couldn’t have because he hadn’t been there when it happened.

There was no way he’d know the Irish and the Russians hated each other because of some Romeo-and-Julietesque drama that had gone down a year ago. So Jason put it in Dick’s rainbow color-coded files and highlighted it thrice.

Jason didn’t own Dick anything, least of all an apology.

He had been right with everything he said.

But they needed to set terms or Gotham would go to hell.

Jason walked down the steps to the Cave deliberately slowly, going through his speech word for word. Yes, he had written an actual speech and learned it by heart. He didn’t want Dick to catch him off guard when Jason struggled to find the words. Alfred was currently out running some errands, so it was the best time to confront Dick.

Jason knew it hurt Alfred to see the two fighting. The butler had enough worries already and Jason didn’t want to add to them.

When Jason reached the bottom of the stairs, he stood still for a moment. Analyze the situation first, figure out where Dick was and what kind of mood he was in.

But Dick was nowhere to be found. Jason frowned and tried to recall whether Dick should be anywhere else, maybe with his Team?

No, he had resigned from the Titans or something. He had had a massive fight with his teammates about his decision to stay in Gotham, not that Jason was supposed to be aware of that.

“Grayson?” Jason shouted. “Are you here?”

Nobody replied and Jason was starting to get worried. “Hey, Dick, come on. This isn’t funny. We need to talk.”

Jason walked further into the Cave, but he still couldn’t spot Dick anywhere.

“Where did you-“

Jason’s words were stuck in his throat as Jason glanced at the Batcomputer screen.

He was back.

He was back, he was back, he was back.

Jason belched, but nothing came out. Hellfire burned the earth around him, there was a heavy weight on his chest and the Joker was laughing and laughing-

Dick.

He must have gotten the Joker alert and ran after him on his own, without Jason, without back-up.

The Joker was no fool, he would know that Dick wasn’t Batman. He’d barely take a look at him and he would make Dick pay for it.

Jason couldn’t let that happen.

He scrambled over to the changing room, that horrible sound chasing him. Jason hadn’t worn Robin’s colors in months. He wouldn’t fit the uniform anymore. Somewhere in-between his panic, he recalled that the spares, Dick’s old Robin suits, were still kept in at the very back behind Jason’s.

Bruce had never said why he had kept them. They were old, Dick wouldn’t use them again and Jason’s had all been upgraded. They would have to be enough today.

Jason fastened his utility belt and headed for his bike.

He couldn’t waste a minute.

Thirteen seconds left.

Jason drove out of the Batcave faster than he ever had.

He needed to find the clown and end him.

X

The Joker usually hauled up in the Amusement Mile. Even when he was locked up in Arkham, people didn’t dare to go there in fear of stepping into the Joker’s traps.

Dick would likely head there first.

The Joker wouldn’t be there. It would be stupid to head to his main base immediately. They knew Joker had more hideouts, but they had never been able to track down all of them. He would restock first and then-

Where would he go?

Somewhere he can plan, somewhere familiar.

The Joker had known that Bruce had been on his way to Jason and he knew that whoever was wearing Batman’s mantle now, it wasn’t the real Batman. What was the likely conclusion if Robin and Batman hadn’t been seen since Ethiopia?

Death.

Joker would be pissed, he’d be furious. His Batman was gone and now a new one had taken the scene. One who didn’t share any history with him yet. He’d want to change that, recreate what had existed once.

Jason cursed. He knew where the Joker was headed. He thought about calling Dick or Barbara, notifying anyone, but-

He could end this.

Jason could ensure nobody would ever get hurt by the Joker again.

He drove on.

X

Dick was one setback away from indulging completely in his panic. The Joker wasn’t in his usual hideout, nor anywhere near it, and Barbara had lost track of him. The Joker could be everywhere, planning to blow up more than just one warehouse this time, and they didn’t have a single lead.

 “Dick,” Alfred’s voice rang over the comm. “Is Jason with you?”

He sounded out of breath like he had run a marathon. Dick’s grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“No, why should he?”

Please, Dick thought. Not now, not this.

“He’s not at home and his bike is missing, I fear he’s decided to follow you.”

Dick’s mouth dried. No. No, no, no, no!

“O, can you track him?” Dick asked. “Jason’s bike has a tracker, right?” Dick’s bike used to have a tracker so he wouldn’t be able to sneak away. Of course, he had figured out how to disable it, but if Jason was even half as terrified as Dick right now, maybe he wouldn’t have thought of it.

“I’ve got him,” Barbara replied. “He’s- it’s parked in front of Ace Chemicals. I’m rerouting the police there. Hurry.”

Dick didn’t need to be told twice.

X

The Ace Chemicals plant was dark. They were currently right in the middle of rebuilding the whole area and roughly half of it was already done. They had started with the newest parts, fixing them up and enlarging them. A lot of their production had been shipped overseas, and if a few adjustments here and there were enough, they could simply tear down the old buildings and warehouses.

Jason didn’t even waste a second to consider where exactly the Joker would go, it was obvious. He had no interest in the new building, it held no memories for him. No, he would head to the old part. Maybe he had sneaked in, just like Jason, through the damaged fence and entered the old building through the backdoor.

The lack of security cameras was a bit confusing, but not too unusual. Enough dark deals were made in the shadows of big corporations. The less supervision there was in general, the more plausible deniability did the heads of such companies have. Jason was mindful of any security still, but he encountered not even one guard on his way through the building. Everything smelled like chlorine and disinfectant. It reminded Jason of the hospital and he hated it. He tugged at his cape and held it over his nose in the hope it would lessen the sharp scent at least a bit.

It didn’t.

The warehouse was cloaked in darkness. The only light source was the moonlight shining through the dirty windows. Jason’s patience was running out.

“I know you’re here,” he hissed. “Stop hiding, you coward.”

Jason walked into the middle of the warehouse, his back exposed. He was open to any attacks, but he was sure that the benefits outweighed the risks.

At first, nothing changed, but then a shadow moved and by the time Jason could see the trademark violet suit, he also heard the Joker’s footsteps and clapping.

“Oh, look! The itty-bitty birdy found me! Where did you leave your new Bat?”

Jason had been right. The Joker did know that it wasn’t the same man under the mask. He took out two Batarangs, one for each hand.

The Joker leaned forward as if to examine them closer. “Those again? I thought we had already established they’re not useful, especially if I step a little on those fingers and toes.”

Jason was accustomed to the fire burning inside him. It flared up, tainted his vision red and urged him to move forward through all walls and bodies.

He couldn’t feel its warmth.

Instead, ice spread through his limbs, its cold burning like the flame, if not even more damaging.

“That reminds me!” The Joker said. “Do you think we should have another session? Our first one didn’t end as planned.”

And suddenly, the Joker was upon him. Jason stumbled back, but he couldn’t catch his balance in time and dropped to the floor. The Joker grabbed Jason’s shoulders and when he tried to lift his head, the Joker smashed it to the ground.

“You! Ruined! My! Game!” The Joker shouted in Jason’s face. “You useless little birds always do! The Bat is mine and you keep hogging his attention. Life would be so much better with you gone.”

The Joker sighed theatrically and leaned back. “I imagined how sweet it would be. Just me and Batman forever and ever without you little pests interfering.”

The Joker’s nails dug into Jason’s arms so harshly that he must be drawing blood. Jason whimpered. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go, he’d had a plan, a goal. He couldn’t let the Joker ruin it or him or anything else ever again.

“But you! You had to get in-between us! I figured Batsy’s gonna be sad for a while, but then he came back all wrong. So I have to make him right, I’ll fix us. You won’t make me mad again, will you, Robin? I had fun the last time, but I think I might be angry today. People don’t like me being angry, it hurts them.”

The Joker’s green eyes gleamed and he began to grin. “Or maybe that’s why you came back? No daddy at home to punish teeny-tiny Robin for getting him killed?”

Jason could taste blood on his tongue. He hated the Joker. That was the reason for the cold, he was the reason. Jason had been angry at others before, but nobody but Willis had managed to make Jason so furious he lost all control, but the Joker?

This was hatred.

Jason screamed and with all the strength he could measure up, he pushed himself off the ground, toppling the Joker over. Now their roles were reversed. The Joker was lying on the ground, helpless like prey and Jason was holding the weapon.

He would kill him.

Jason would kill the bastard and make him pay for every crime he had ever committed.

“You-“

A loud crash interrupted Jason. The right wall of the warehouse just smashed open when a familiar black car drove through it.

Dick jumped out of the driver’s seat.

“Robin!” He shouted, then his eyes zoomed in on the Joker lying beneath him.

“Hello, big bird,” the Joker sing-songed. “Nice upgrade you got there, but it’s not all done. I was going to help you but then this little bird interrupted.”

Jason used his right hand to push the Joker’s head forcefully to the ground.

“Robin,” Dick repeated, this time softer. “Let go of him.”

“No.” Jason hissed. “I can’t.”

“You can,” Dick said and took one step forward, then another. “You don’t want to do this.”

“I don’t want to do this? He ruined everything!”

Why didn’t Dick understand? If they got rid of the Joker, everything would change. No more torture, no more nightmares, no more pain.

Jason was going to fix everything. “He has to die.”

 “B wouldn’t want you to do this,” Dick said. He held his hands up as if to show that he wasn’t going to forcefully take the decision out of Jason’s hand.

It almost made Jason want to laugh. Bruce had shown him a couple maneuvers he could do easily while

“No more death,” Jason said. “No more destruction. The world is better off without him!”

Beneath him, the Joker laughed maniacally, his face twisted into the ugly impression of a smile.

“Shut up!” Jason shouted, but the Joker wouldn’t calm. He only became more and more hysteric and Jason just wanted it all to end!

“I said, shut up!”

“Ja- Robin,” Dick tried again. “Please. You don’t-“

“I’m right,” Jason said. “I’m right. He should die and I’ll make him stop.”

Dick fell silent. The Joker’s laughter surrounded them both. If Jason wasn’t here, Dick wouldn’t know whether he’d be able to knock the Joker out and put handcuffs on him. Hell, if Dick were in Jason’s position, he didn’t know if he could do it. He wanted the Joker gone as well. Preferably slow and painful, so he’d suffer like Bruce had.

But-

“B wouldn’t want it,” Dick repeated. “I want him gone as much as you do, but Batman and Robin don’t kill.”

Gotham would fall apart as soon as they shed blood like that.

“I know it hurts and he should suffer, but you shouldn’t have to pay the price. Dad loved you and he wanted you to be safe. This is the opposite of that. You don’t have to agree, you don’t even have to think my way is the right one, but you know he’d hate himself for being the reason you’d have to spill blood.”

Jason’s hands were still holding onto the Batarang. If Jason really wanted to kill the Joker, Dick wouldn’t be fast enough to drop it.

“He deserves it,” Jason whispered. “He killed our Dad and he deserves it.”

Jason dropped the Batarang. His arms went slack at his side and Dick used the opportunity to move in. He pulled Jason away from the Joker as fast and gentle as he could. He draped his cape around Jason’s shoulders and kneeled down next to the Joker. Dick jammed a syringe with sedatives in the Joker’s neck and cuffed his hands together.

Maybe the dosage was a little higher than usual.

Not enough to make sure he wouldn’t wake up again, but to ensure he’d drop immediately and his insane laughter would die.

“Oracle, police?” Dick asked. He was moving on autopilot, directing Jason away from the body.

“Outside, my father’s there.”

Good.

“Let’s go back home,” Dick said softly. At his side, Jason only nodded.

Dick carefully maneuvered Jason out of the warehouse and towards the Batmobile. When they arrived back home, Alfred was already waiting for them. He pulled both of them into a bone-crushing hug.

“My boys,” Alfred said. “Don’t ever do something like this again. I’m not sure my heart could take it.”

Dick put his arms around his grandfather, squishing Jason in the middle. All of them were here and all of them were alive.

They had made it.

Dick was home.

X

“There is something I want to show you,” Dick said. “I- I didn’t want you to know before and, fuck. I’m sorry. This wouldn’t have-“

Dick was struggling to find the right words. Would it have changed anything, he wondered, if he had given Jason this beforehand?

Jason wasn’t moving from his spot on Bruce’s chair, still wrapped in Dick’s cape. He was just staring into space, tear tracks still visible. Alfred had wanted them to go upstairs immediately and not step in the Cave for the next ten years, but Jason needed to listen to this.

Dick sighed. Now or never.

He opened the Ethiopia file and purposefully didn’t look at Jason. Then he hit play.

X

“Jay-“Bruce's voice played and Jason breathed a sob. “Jay, you’re okay. It’s alright. Don’t cry. Sssh, I love you. You and Dick. I love you, I-“ He coughed. It was a wet and ugly sound. “I love you, I love...”

The recording cut off.

Jason hit replay.

Again.

And again.

And again and again and again and just once more. He just had to be sure that he wasn’t mishearing Bruce’s words, that he was committing them to his memories until he could quote this terrifying declaration.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

Just once more.

Rewind.

X

Jason was sitting in the circle with the rest of the deaf kids. He knew their names, some of their hobbies and roughly how much of their hearing was impaired. He had never bothered to pay any attention beyond that or involve himself in any way. More than once, he had brought a book to these sessions and had refused to look up from it.

He thought of all the puns about deafness Dick had made on the way to Jason’s appointment. Not all of them had been good or fun – two have them had fucking hurt, but Dick had apologized and it was okay.

Getting better.

Something like that, at least.

‘Is there anything you’d like to share today, Jason?’ The therapist asked like she did every Saturday.

She wore one of her awfully colorful dresses and smiled softly, hopeful. Jason didn’t get how she could do that for weeks without growing resentful. If Jason didn't absolutely shut down, he avoided eye-contact and replied with a quick ‘no’ and, if he was feeling especially crude, told her to ‘fuck off’ in the most vulgar way possible.

‘Yes,’ Jason signed for the first time. ‘I’ll be spending the evening with…’ He dropped his hands in his lap, took a breath, then picked the sentence up again. ‘I’ll be spending the evening with my older brother. I don’t know what we’ll do yet, but I hope it will be fun.’

Poison Ivy had escaped Arkham yesterday. The last few times she had escaped, she hadn’t done any significant damage and Jason still had a biology test to study for. Sometimes, Ivy was down to answer his questions when they were driving her back to Arkham. It would be pretty great if tonight was one of those nights.

X

“So,” Jason said. “I’m thinking.”

The buzzing in his ears annoyed the hell out of him, but he couldn’t get it to stop. He'd have to wait until they were back home.

��Oh, dangerous,” Dick shouted from where he was lying beneath the Batmobile, trying to figure out what Ivy had done to stop their car.

Jason rolled his eyes and wrung out his cape once more. Everything was cold and wet and sticky. Ivy had been seriously pissed by the plans for a new factory at the edge of town. So much for getting her to tutor him.

“I think I should exchange my mask for something that covers my ears as well because my aids were not made for being thrown in Gotham River.”

Dick moved out from beneath the Batmobile, looking at Jason in a slight panic. Even though the mask covered his head, it was fairly easy for Jason to tell what he was thinking.

“They didn’t get damaged, did they?” Dick asked, signing while he was it.

Honestly, Lucius had made them. If getting dropped in the water once was going to fry them completely, Jason wouldn’t trust any of the equipment they were using.

“They’ll survive the night,” Jason said. Even if everything sounded a little bit like static. ‘And don’t speak and sign, your signs are shit.’

‘Sorry.’

“Anyway, I was thinking I should get a helmet…” Jason trailed off. Something or someone was moving on the roof of the building in front of them.

“Robin?” Dick called.

“Be right back,” Jason replied and angled his grapple so that it would pull him onto the roof. He shot it and whoever was on the roof was already running backward. Oh, hell no!

Jason landed smoothly on the roof and after a short sprint, he caught the person, who turned out to be much shorter than Jason expected.

Kid-sized, really.

“Hello,” the kid squeaked nervously. He couldn’t be older than twelve or so, Jason thought. “Nice to meet you?”

“What are you doing here?” Jason asked. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“Eh…” The kid glanced at the camera he was holding. “Maybe?”

Jason raised a brow, pretty unimpressed with the kid so far. Though, he couldn’t just let the kid go and ignore that he had caught a maybe twelve-year-old with a camera on a rooftop. At least it wasn’t a video camera, so no possibly incriminating videos spoiling Batman and Robin’s identities for the world.

“Gimme that,” Jason said, already pulling the camera out of the kid's hands.

“I don’t show them anybody!” The kid insisted when Jason turned the camera on and looked at the most recent photos.

As expected, the last one was of the two down in the alley, but the ones before that were close-ups of the dynamic duo fighting Ivy. Ivy had destroyed an entire – fortunately abandoned – building in her rage. To get pictures of that…

“Who are you?” Jason asked. He didn’t make it his habit to intimidate kids, but if they got involved in such dangerous situations, he needed to know why. “Who is paying you for this?”

“Nobody!” The kid said. “I just do this for. Uhm. Fun. My name is Tim. I’m your neighbor.”

The words registered in Jason’s mind about the same time as they did in the kid’s as Tim slapped his hands over his mouth and paled.

Later, when Jason would be ranting about Dick’s overreaction at Bruce’s grave, he’d maybe admit that he could have dealt with Timothy Jackson Drake differently and that knocking a twelve-year-old out shouldn’t ever be anyone’s first instinct, but right now?

Right now, Jason already had the knock out gas in hand and was only vaguely aware of Dick having reached the rooftop.

[queenmylovely]

Wedding Party- Mini ii

Summary: Ben hardy x fem!reader. Your normal Sunday routine with Ben is interrupted by a hangover. 

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: cussing, smut (fingering, protected sex, etc.) (18+!! marked with ***)

Request: smut and hanging around being cute?- requested by my roommate 

A/N: I still love these two and they deserve all the soft smut in the world. I think I’m done with 700 stuff (I mean unless anyone wants to send more stuff) other than something that was sent in that might have taken on a life of its own. Keep tuned. Any feedback is super appreciated but especially replies, messages, and asks are super helpful for my writing ‘cause I get to hear what you think!

what’s going on send me stuff!

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Mini i, Masterlist

(ignore joey but that’s how ben looks at you, gif by @mrbenhardys​)

💖💖💖

A month and a half after Lucy and Rami’s wedding, you and Ben had developed a good routine that started with going out on Saturday nights, whether it was to dinner, to a bar, over to Lucy and Rami’s, or whatever plans you could scare up. Then you would go to his or yours, it alternated every weekend, have hot sex and crash for the night. The next day you would laze around, having a relaxed brunch of pancakes or waffles, eating them as they came off the griddle. You two might help each other do whatever chores you needed to do, if you had the motivation. If not, it’d just be a nice day to hang out and probably have some lazy sex in the afternoon.

This Sunday was pretty much the same and the two of you were laying in bed at your apartment about an hour after waking up. The night before was another of Lucy and Rami’s game nights, and since you were staying at your place, you drove. It was the last one before Joe had to go back to the states (though he still wasn’t leaving for another week). Since you were driving, you told Ben to live it up and he really listened, getting too drunk to do anything but be put straight to bed once you got to your place.

So today, Ben was extremely hung over. Lucky for him, and you, he wasn’t the type to throw up, but he did have a raging headache and achy body. So when the two of you had gotten up, you had drawn the blinds and closed the curtains to block out the bright sunlight. And you had gotten him a glass of water and aspirin to help the headache.

Then he had looked at you with puppy dog eyes and jutted out those lips of his in a pout and asked, “Can you give me a massage?”

You rolled your eyes but acquiesced, pushing him onto his stomach. Then you straddled his lower back and started with his arms. From his biceps down to his forearms to his hands, you got every inch while Ben hummed his approval. Next you moved to his shoulders and neck, working out the tension and Ben groaned when you worked out a knot with your elbow.

“You know, you should get regular massages with all the working out you do. You don’t get knots from being hungover,” you pointed out.

“Mhmm,” was all that Ben managed.

After his upper back, you did a quick bit over his lower back because that wasn’t very sore or tense. Then turned around so you were facing the other way. You even did a few rubs over his ass, then gave it a quick swat which made Ben cry out, “Babe!” and you laughed.

“I refuse to do your feet for a hangover,” you told him and he chuckled, so instead you started with his calves.

Once they were done, you slowly moved up his thighs and you probably spent a little extra time there, but who could blame you? Lastly you started to work your way up his inner thighs and you heard Ben’s breath catch. You kept going and Ben moaned, more sexual than relaxed.

“You good, baby?” you asked with a light laugh.

“Fuck, you got me hard,” he lifted his head from his arms and said with a little whine in his voice that made you feel a type of way.

“Too bad you have too big of a headache to fuck right now,” you said wistfully.

“Says you,” he countered, turning to look at you, but still squinting his eyes due to the light.

“Well me is who you have to convince to get fucked,” you pointed out. Then you got up from on top of him and said, “I’m going to make some breakfast. You’re welcome to join if you can stand the light in the kitchen.”

Ben groaned and put his head back on his arms as you walked away.

_

A couple hours later with some food in your stomach (you had taken some to Ben who was still in your bedroom), you were lounging on the couch, reading a book with soft music playing over the speakers.

Ben came walking out of your bedroom, rubbing his eyes and groaning softly.

“Did you have a nice little nap, baby?” you asked with a smile, putting your book to the side.

He nodded sleepily and then asked, “Can I lay down with you?”

“Yeah, come on,” you told him, holding your arms out for him. Since you were on your back, he laid down between your legs, resting his head on your chest. He pressed a soft kiss to your boob through your shirt and you laughed, swatting his shoulder lightly.

“Read to me, babe,” Ben said softly.

Picking up your book again, you found your page and then started reading. Ben interrupted every so often with questions to catch up but for the most part was quiet, paying attention to your voice.

The two of you laid like that for a while until your voice got tired and you set down the book again. Then you settled in and started playing with Ben’s hair lazily and he pressed another kiss to your chest. This time you didn’t swat his shoulder and he placed another kiss.

***

Ben’s hands smoothed up under your shirt and he brushed the sides of your breasts with his thumbs. The light touch made you shiver and Ben kissed his way to your right nipple, mouthing it over your shirt. You hummed and tugged his hair lightly to get him to switch to the other side. Once he had you breathing quicker, he helped you lift your shirt over your head.

“Yours too, baby,” you said with a smile and you helped him take it off. You ran your hands down his torso, thumbing at his nipples and feeling his abs.

Ben pressed hot kisses up from your chest to your neck and then finally reached your mouth. His lips moving against yours, it wasn’t long before you were moaning and opening your mouth for his tongue.

His hand traveled down your body and landed over your clothed pussy. He rubbed at your clit through your clothes and while it was good, you wanted more.

Breaking the kiss, you whispered against his lips, “I can just take them off for you.”

Ben chuckled against your mouth and took your pants and underwear off for you. You opened your mouth to say something but Ben beat you to it.

“I know, mine too,” he said with a laugh and you nodded happily.

Everything off, Ben’s hand came back between your thighs and his middle finger found your clit. You sighed and brought him to kiss you again, running your hands through his hair and then scratching your hands down his back.

Ben’s finger moved down to your entrance, pushing inside slowly and you moaned into his mouth. You could tell that Ben was into it too, his hard dick pressing against the side of your thigh. Ben pushed another finger in with the first and you gasped when the heel of his hand started to rub against your clit.

One of your hands on Ben’s hip, you pulled him closer to you until his hips were practically flush with yours.

He broke the kiss, “Uh, you’re kinda trapping my hand, babe.”

“Then move it-- out of the way-- I’m trying to get-- to something else,” you mumbled in between short kisses.

Ben grinned and moved his hand, pressing a searing kiss to your lips before jumping up from the couch.

“Ow, that hurt my head. Just a second,” Ben said, searching for his pants wherever they landed. Then he pulled a condom out of the pocket of his sweatpants and you laughed incredulously.

“Are you serious? Did you put a condom in your pocket ahead of time?” you said, still laughing.

“Well you said that I had to convince you and I knew that’d be pretty easy,” Ben admitted, already putting the condom on.

You gave him a mostly fake shocked look, “Are you saying I’m easy?”

“I’m speaking from previous experience. Don’t act like you don’t want this,” he said with a smirk, gesturing to himself.

“Shut up and get over here,” you said with a roll of your eyes, reaching up for him again.

He climbed back on top of you, using one hand to prop himself up and the other to guide his cock inside of your pussy slowly and he dropped his head to your shoulder. Then he just stayed there for a moment.

“Aren’t you going to move?” you asked, tapping the back of his head.

“I’m just feeling for a minute,” he explained, still staying still but lifting his head.

“You convinced me of fucking, not cockwarming, speed it up,” you told him wryly, clenching around him purposefully to entice him.

“Always so impatient,” he commented, finally starting to thrust. Even though he was still going slower than fast, he was going deep, and you made a happy sound at the feeling. “‘cept when you’re the one teasing.”

“That’s an entirely-- entirely different situation,” you said, stuttering a little when his hand found its way back to your clit.

“You should be able to take what you dish out,” was Ben’s rebuttal, but with how deep he was fucking you and the mix of frictions of his cock in your pussy and his fingers on your clit, your words escaped you.

All you could do was shush him before pulling him into another kiss. At least that didn’t need brainpower because your mouths always naturally worked together. But the slow pace and amazing feeling was making you itchy for more, like your fingertips were burning with need. So you kissed down his jaw to his neck, using your teeth to nip at all of the spots with faded hickeys on Ben’s neck. He would probably complain again that you kept giving him hickeys in the same spots, never letting them completely fade, but they looked so good there that you did it anyway.

When you nipped at his pulse point, Ben moaned and his hips snapped against yours and you gasped.

“Yes, Ben, do that-- do that again, again,” you said breathlessly.

To your relief, he did, and you continued your work on his neck. One particularly hard thrust had your pussy clenching around him and Ben whined, “aah fuck-- fuck, babe, you feel good, so good.”

“You too, so good, baby,” you breathed into his neck. “I’m gonna come, just keep going and come too, wanna feel it.”

Ben nodded frantically, keeping his hips thrusting into you even a little harder, and his fingers moved faster on your clit. A few more seconds and you were coming, your mouth pressed against Ben’s neck to stifle your moans as you felt the pleasure radiate from your pussy and clit out to burn along your back, neck, all the way out to your fingertips.

You came down and Ben was still going, still chasing his release like you told him to. Wanting to help him along, you wrapped your legs around his waist and just that little change in angle had him coming in two more thrusts. The feeling of his cock pulsing inside of you, his pitchy moans next to your ear, and your aftershocks gave you a heady feeling that you now associated with sex with Ben. Knowing that you were able to make each other feel so good was a pleasure of its own and always kept you hungry for more.

Once Ben’s breathing had slowed a little, you leaned up and brought your lips to his in a soft and sweet kiss. After a couple minutes of lazily making out, you pulled away, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Alright, we gotta get up, baby. Still need to do meal prep for this week,” you reminded him and he groaned.

“Let’s just stay here a little while longer,” Ben tried, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“I’ll give you five more minutes,” you said.

“Fine, but you have to give me some of the food to take home,” lifting his head to look at you.

You smiled and kissed his cheek, “Of course.”

💖💖💖

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[gongju-juice]

7. Once Upon a Southern Night

Still Stuck in 1863

Warnings: Language, Mentions of a miscarriage, all of the usual

That night, you had the strangest, most desirable nightmare of your entire life.

You were barefoot,  laying in a bed of flowers wearing a long black dress and white apron. By your side, he was there. But instead of his brilliant red eyes, they were the peaceful color of a bluish gray. On his stomach rested his top hat and he was dressed in the finest clothes; clothes no regular person should have been lounging around in.

“P-Preston?”

He turned on his side and looked up at you, his hand absentmindedly rubbing circles on your flat middle. Bending down, he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Yes, dear. I’m here.”

“I. . .” you looked around the clearing. It was early in the afternoon, the golden rays peeking through the oak trees above you. In the distance, rows of cotton stood out against the brown field. “Is this. . .a dream. . .or a memory?”

“Neither,” he murmured. “This is a vision. We are talking together in real-time while you are asleep. Everything around us is what home used to look like.”

“How. . .is this possible?”

He caressed your face with his other hand, gazing into your eyes like he was a moth drawn to a light. 

“This is what life should’ve been like. Your mom and the aunties should have been making clothes for the baby, and I should’ve been preparing our home in Pensacola. Instead, I was dragged out to war for what would be the final time I’d ever see you.”

You shook your head, sitting up in the bed of dandelions. “Home? I would be a slave if that would’ve come to fruition. You would’ve married Abigail, and I’d be your negro mistress sleeping in the shack outside with our biracial children.”

He grimaced at his former fiance’s name. No matter what he said, the truth would always be the same. Your love was never equal, he owned you. His family owned you from the moment you were born. You were not his lover. You were his slave.

“I would’ve bought your freedom. Mother could not really force me to marry that woman. I wouldn’t have put up with it—not in a million years. I wanted to dress you in the finest clothes, drape you in jewels. At one time, you wouldn’t have hesitated to believe me.”

He gently pushed you back down to the earth and hovered over your middle before placing a series of kisses on your covered navel.

“We were going to name her Sarah,” he said with a sad note of laughter. “If she was a girl. And if he was a boy—”

“Clyde,” you whispered. “Oh, Preston—Preston, I remember it all. Everything!”

He took you in his heart, and you heard his wild heartbeat clear and strong. The flood of memories was overwhelming, and all you could do was sob in his chest. You remembered catching lightning bugs in the twilight, him secretly teaching you how to read under the stairs. You remembered making love in his bedroom—how the other slaves on the plantation resented his favoritism. 

You remembered missing your periods three consecutive months in a row. You remembered his face as you told him, how he lifted you in his arms. You remembered when Major Whitlock arrived and took him away, how he left you with only a little picture of him in a tiny locket.

You remembered his furious mother, and how she incurred her wrath on you any chance she got. You remembered when she knocked you unconscious, blood spilling between your legs when she told you her plans. You remembered your mother’s cold hands and the pain—

How you cried. How you wished for him to come and take your pain away. And your vengeful mother. She spoke nonsense in your ear as you were dying on her straw mattress. She chanted in the candle dim light of your cabin, and the next thing you knew—

You were being tickled in your adopted mother’s arms. 

“Do you know?” you choked. “Do you know what your mother did to me?”

His eyes lowered, hands falling to clasp your wrists. “I didn’t find out until twenty years later. . .when I could finally stand to be near a human without wanting to rip their throat out.”

“Did you know. . .that she killed our baby? That she wanted to send me up to Charleston so Abigail and her folks wouldn’t know?”

Tears threatened to spill from his eyes as he turned away. As he did, a butterfly rose from a lonesome bluebell.

“If I would have been there, I wouldn’t have let that happen,” he growled. “And it’s all Jasper Whitlock’s fault. If he wouldn’t have dragged me out to—”

“No,” you said, “you wanted to go to war. You wanted to bring honor to your family and  keep slaves from being free so you could bathe in your money. Don’t act like the victim, Preston. Don’t act like I don’t remember how cruel you were when the abolitionists showed up in Mobile.”

He shook his head, whirling back around to face your tear-stained face. “It was a different time, Y/N, Why does that excuse work for Jasper and not for me? It was my right—”

“And you still think it is!” you snapped. “You think you’re entitled to me because of the past, because of a flawed love we used to share. Jasper has acknowledged things have changed, and he’s changed with time. But you—you’re still stuck in 1863.”

“No!” he shouted ferociously, and suddenly his eyes flickered from river blue to blazing red. “I lost the life I should’ve had! He stole that from me! He deserves to pay, to feel every ounce of suffering I felt all those years.”

“Has he not suffered as I have?” you cried. “He was a slave to Maria, just like I was a slave to you!”

His eyes closed, and he struggled to regain his composure. You saw through the illusion quickly. He must’ve enlisted the powers of a witch to fabricate this false reality. Your love for Preston was real, but your fear of him was even stronger. You gave yourself to him out of necessity. To refuse your master. . .it was not something a black woman did and got away to tell the story.

“It doesn’t matter how you feel,” he said after a while. “I will make you love me again as you did once before. You’ll see—once I destroy Jasper and all of his family, you will have nobody else but me.”

The dream evaporated and suddenly you were in the middle of the living room, your family and guests all standing over you as she gasped violently.

“Y/N!” Jasper called, holding you in your arms as you came to. Your mother was about to inject an IV needle into your vein while Carlisle tried to determine the cause of your sudden collapse.

“Mom? Jas? I—” you tried to sit up but you were promptly held in place.

“Just breathe, darlin’,” Jasper instructed. “I’ll move you in a minute. It’s okay, I got you.”

You attempted to weakly lift up your hand to his cold face. And that’s when you knew. Nothing or no one could ever separate you from him. Jasper was the only man you loved; the only man you needed. If he was the light, you were his shadow. If you were the night, he was the star that made it brighter.

“Y/N, this is really important,” your sister said, bending down on her knees to get closer to you. “What happened while you were gone?” Behind her Zacarias stood looking very concerned, his hand on her shoulder.

You shook your head, trying to find a way to say the words. “It was him, and we were. . .back in the past.”

Jasper’s jaw clenched and he looked towards the ceiling. If he were human, you could tell he would be crying by now. 

“He’s got a witch on his side,” Zacarias confirmed, crossing his arms. “And whoever it is, they must be good. It’s hard to make telepathic communications for more than a few moments at a time, especially from such a far distance.”

“Then what can we do?” Peter asked, looking at the Cullens in desperation. “These witches. . .we’ve never faced anything like them before. And the newborn armies will still be coming on top of that.”

Ava massaged the palm of your hand comfortingly, slowly, your energy began to come back. But Jasper still would not let you move.

“Witches are not infallible. It looks like he’s only got one on his side—maybe two if he’s lucky. As long as they’re at a far enough distance, well protected by the armies, they can do much damage to any specific target. The concentration that’s needed for combat is ridiculously difficult, and they can only focus on a few people at once. But that’s why Zach and I are here. We can hold off their attacks while you guys take care of the armies.”

Jasper finally spoke up, shifting you so that you were held firmly in his embrace. “We’ve got just a week-and-a-half to get in tip-top shape and make things right. I don’t care what I have to do, Ava, I won’t let Y/N get hurt. I would die if it meant her freedom, and if it that’s what it takes to end this all, then don’t hesitate to sacrifice me for the greatest cause—”

“No!” you objected. “If you die, I’m dying with you! I don’t want to be in this world without you, Jasper. It wouldn’t even be a life anymore! Please don’t say that, please don’t leave me alone!”

Carlisle kindly ushered the guests to the door, and left the two of you alone in the house.

“Your happiness is my only priority. And if you want to be with him. . .then you should,” he whispered painfully. “I deserve to pay for the suffering and heart I’ve caused others. I could’ve sent Preston away with the others when we were leaving that fateful night. He didn’t have to die, as I did.”

“You didn’t die,” you insisted. “It was the first stage of your metamorphosis. He died that night. He could never get over what he’d lost then and even now. That’s not your fault. He could choose to be happy, but yet he only desires the suffering over others. He told me he didn’t care about my happiness but you—”

You didn’t have to finish your statement, the both of you knew in your hearts. 

“I love you so much, baby!” you sobbed, clinging onto his shirt desperately. “I don’t want him, or any of the life we had before. You are my now, and you are my future.”

He buried his face into your shoulder, rocking you on the cold living room floor. 

“And I love you too, darlin’. I love you so much.”

The truth is guys, I haven’t posted in a while because I’ve been so depressed lately. This world is so evil, and I just feel like how can I post when they are literally people protesting in the streets, people dying, and the world in chaos??

Anyway, fanfiction is an escape these days. It always had been, now moreso than ever. I know I’m just an amateur, but if I can make someone forget their worries for even five minutes, I’m honored.

Stay safe, mah bois.

Part Five    Part Six   Part Eight

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

I know this won't all fit in one ask so here goes! Haha! Okay so plus size reader x jaskier. With some jealous jaskier. And he's jealous because reader and geralt are pretty good friends, but thats not why he's jealous, he's jealous because he keeps walking in on them at the worst times and they keep finding themselves in like really odd situations that can be read as sexual when they are NOT EVEN CLOSE TO THAT AT ALL and jaskier just keeps walking in at THEE worst time. Reader has been in 1/?

Love with jaskier for years, they’re close, she’s shy so now he’s like how come Geralt gets to have all this closeness & not me. So he kind of pulls away & maybe starts mumbling to himself when they’re all together & so finally she asks him whats wrong & he’s like very short with her & meaner than he means to be about her & geralt. & she is accidentally like “i’m not in love with him. fucks sake Jaskier ive been in love YOU for years!” & storms off & then reconciliation? THANK YOU!

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Jaskier x ReaderWord Count: 1,470Rating: TTaglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mynamesoundslikesherlock @magic-multicolored-miracle @writingstudent @mlleecrivaine @coffee-and-stories @ultracolorfulnerdcollection @astouract @your-not-invisible-to-me @kemmastan a/n: I hope you enjoy it! Thank you for the prompt!

One of the greatest mysteries in Jaskier’s many-storied life was how Geralt consistently surrounded himself with gorgeous women.

Despite how frustrating and downright scary he found her, Jaskier would never deny Yennefer’s beauty. From the stories he’d heard Renfri was also lovely, as was the sorceress Triss Merigold. The warriors who had accompanied them up the mountain were gorgeous with their long necks and strong physiques. Yet all of them had eyes for Geralt and Geralt alone. This continued when it came to you. Geralt had introduced you to Jaskier as a long-time friend but Jaskier knew better. Geralt would be a fool to resist a woman of your charms and you were clearly smitten with him. Jaskier was ecstatic when you joined them on their travels but as his feelings for you deepened, so did his agony.

He would write songs about your beauty only to throw them away when he found you snuggled up on Geralt’s lap before the fire. One time he had walked in on you bent over a table, Geralt right behind you, and you’d tried to say that it ‘wasn’t what it looked like’ and Geralt was ‘just massaging a pulled muscle’ but Jaskier was the first to know those mistakes were all nonsense. He’d “massaged” plenty of “pulled muscles” in his day, thank you very much. There was one night where he thought, perhaps, he had a chance. It was bitterly cold and you’d suggested that you and him share a bedroll, cuddling together for warmth. He’d wrapped you up tight and he could’ve sworn he felt your heart skip a beat as he surreptitiously planted a kiss on your head. But when he woke up, Geralt had joined and you were draped across him. That was when he knew there was no point in trying anymore.

Sure, there were other things along the way that should have made this less devastating. You always gave Geralt long, tight hugs and with Jaskier you were brief and always seemed a bit reluctant or uncertain about touching. You’d casually make bawdy jokes with Geralt but whenever Jaskier made one you blushed or looked askance. Yes, it was clear what was going on here, it didn’t take a genius to see, but it still hurt Jaskier deeply and that hurt turned into outward dickishness.

You noticed that Jaskier grew colder. He didn’t sing songs to you anymore, not even to get your opinion as he wrote songs about the new muse he had, some woman whose beauty was as ample as her body and just as tempting. You envied this woman more than you could bear but you tried to appease yourself with his friendship. True, you were closer with Geralt, having met him long ago, but the real impediment between a close friendship with Jaskier was the feelings you held for him. You kept them tucked away in secret as you watched Jaskier flirt with everyone.

The mumbling was new, though. The coldness and the mumbling started one morning after you had gone to bed with him. Tragically not in a euphemistic way but genuinely curled up for warmth, nestled in his arms. You’d woken in the middle of the night with your teeth chattering, Jaskier even colder than you though fast asleep, and you had woken Geralt to come help you warm him and by the three of you combined you were able to provide enough warmth to sleep through the night. Sleeping next to Geralt was something you’d done a thousand times, you thought nothing of it. But the next morning Jaskier had begun to act strange. He hardly talked and he looked at you even less. When Geralt passed you a piece of bread you thought you heard Jaskier mumble something about ‘getting a piece’ but when you asked him he looked at you in confusion and you moved on. For a week now he’d been making little side comments, though, and you were just about at your limit. You hoped that staying at an inn may help his mood, that perhaps the hard travel was just weighing on him, and he did seem to perk up a bit at getting a warm meal but once Geralt excused himself to leave the mumbling started again.

“What are you doing?” you asked. Jaskier looked up and tried to give you an innocent expression but you were unimpressed.

“What are you talking about?” he countered.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Every time Geralt talks to me you mutter something to yourself,” you insisted.

“Maybe I have to talk to myself because the only one you ever talk to is Geralt,” Jaskier grumbled.

“That’s just not true,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Right, sorry, my mistake,” Jaskier said, voice hard and sarcastic, “You don’t just talk to him. You also sleep on him and gods know what else when I’m not there. Hell, probably when I’m there too, not like you’d give a damn.”

Your eyes pricked with hot, angry tears and you rose from the table.

“Geralt is my friend. Unlike you. No friend would be so… mean,” you cried.

“I thought you liked mean guys after all, there’s Geralt and you can’t keep your hands off of him,” Jaskier snapped.

“Where the hell is this coming from? I’m not in love with Geralt. I haven’t been in love with anyone but you since we met but you’re so damned pigheaded and stuck in the clouds with your muse that you can’t see anything. Gods, Jaskier, I’ve always defended you when people said you were just some dumb bard but you’re not only daft, you’re cruel,” your voice cracked at the end of your words and you ran from the table towards the stables as swiftly as you could. Jaskier’s head spun as he took in everything that had just happened. He’d never intended to be so harsh, even if you were in love with Geralt it would give him no right to judge or hate you for it. But then you’d said that you loved him? Could such a miracle be true? And even if it was, had be cocked it all up beyond reason now?

Jaskier found you in the stables petting Roach and was grateful not to find you pouring your heart out to Geralt who would likely have murdered him on the spot for making his friend cry, as would be his right. When you saw him you glowered and turned your face back to the horse. Roach looked over at Jaskier and he would’ve sworn he saw disdain in her large, brown eyes.

“Y/N I’ve been an ass,” Jaskier said.

“Yes, you have,” you replied without turning around.

“Everything you said was right. I was mean and cruel and you didn’t deserve any of that,” he continued.

“Too right,” you said with a sniff, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.

“And I hope what I say now doesn’t make it worse,” he said. He saw you stiffen and then turn to face him. Your wet, red-rimmed eyes wrenched his heart. He’d fantasized about how he may confess his love to you countless times and in none of them had he made you cry. Not like this.

“I love you. I’m in love with you. I have been for years and I never told you because… not just because you seemed to close to Geralt – and I know! I know you’re friends!” he said quickly as you frowned and opened your mouth to protest, “But there was such a clear different between how you treated us. You didn’t joke with me as you did him and you seemed reluctant or uncomfortable touching me and I assumed it was because you… well that you didn’t like me. Much less love.”

Realization dawned on your face, as well as a little regret.

“Oh Jaskier… Of course I like you. That’s why I was so distant. I assumed you’d never feel for me the way I did for you and I think I was just trying to keep a safe distance to try and protect my heart. Which means I am also sort of stupid because obviously that ship had sailed,” you said with a rueful laugh.

“You’re not stupid,” Jaskier insisted, moving closer to you and daring to try and take your hand, encouraged when you let him, “Emotions are hard. Well, they’re not, but we make them hard. We humans are a ghastly species.”

“We are,” you agreed, nodding and moving a little closer.

“So,” Jaskier said, pale blue eyes gazing down into yours as you both crept ever so slowly closer, drawn like two magnets that have been held apart for too long, “What happens now?”

You answered him with a kiss.

[ophiexb]

Chemical Reaction

It has been such a long time since I’ve written for fandoms. But hello yes here I am, please enjoy. 

------------------

“Shhh.” The quick almost forceful whisper was followed by laughter that filled the halls, before being stifled again the sound of feet stumbling and followed by keys. “You're going to wake the others.” A voice hissed before they were stumbling into the small apartment. They really had no way of knowing who was or wasn’t home right now, constantly having a flow of people in and out of the place during filming. However it seemed blessedly empty right now. 

“See empty.” Charlie said brightly a smug grin across his face gesturing to the empty apartment a bit before Owen was pressing him back against their apartment door. His fingers found the lock between them before his lips were on the others. A mess of hands and clothing falling around them as they stumbled through Owen’s open bedroom and into the bed. 

Owen woke to the sound of music playing the house, the sound of pans and pots being moved around the kitchen and he rolled slightly. Yawning as he rubbed at his eyes slipping from the bed to find some clean boxers. They didn't have filming today meaning they were completely free to take their time doing whatever they wanted, no rush to eat and get dressed before heading to set, no need to leave before the sun was even up. Owen wandered slowly into the kitchen, his bare feet padding on the floor as he found Charlie making pancakes in the kitchen. Two plates stacked nice as he moved to turn off the stove. “Really?” He teased his voice hoarse. 

“What?” Charlie asked grinning as he turned to hand the other the plate of food. 

Owen raised an eyebrow at him and the brunette simply grinned climbing up to sit at their bar. “An apron is not sufficient cover your lucky the others are filming today.” He teased getting settled with his own food. Running his hands through his blonde hair to push it back before digging in.

“So what do you want to do today?” Charlie mumbled around the mouthful of food, crossing his leg a bit as he ate. 

“Let’s get out for a bit; do whatever and then stay in for the rest of the day? We’ve got tomorrow off with everyone else..” He shrugged. “Maybe have them come over tonight.” Sometimes there could be weeks between their shots, and sometimes they could be shooting everyday for months. It just never was consistent and he wanted to use the time while they had it. 

“Want to rent some bikes again and race around the park?” Charlie asked excitedly, Owen had learned quickly the option of only staying in all day wasn’t there. Charlie was basically a dog, you had to take the guy for a walk or do something active or he’d be bouncing off the walls for the whole day and get into some type of trouble or mess. 

“Yeah that sounds fun.” Owen said warmly. “We can grab lunch at that sandwich place by the pier.” He suggested happily “Maybe see what else is going on. I’ll text the others to come over after filming, see if Jer wants to hang today.” He was already climbing up to go and grab his phone, sending a few texts out while they finished up breakfast. His feet propped up slightly him and Charlie just brushing against one another while they finished up.

They weren’t a secret. They refused; there was nothing to hide and no reason to hide it. Plus more often than not Charlie couldn’t keep his hands to himself so keeping it a secret wasn’t going to last long. They didn’t necessarily have a coming out but they didn’t keep anything hidden. They did inform Kenny formally, and went through the whole up and down of making sure he was reassured it wouldn’t ruin the show if something happened to them.

By now, a few months into what they we’re, Owen didn’t think anything really could happen to them, it just didn't seem was possible. Charlie was the definition of positive attitude and confidence. He really couldn’t be shaken, they talked so well with one another it seemed like theyd always flow smoothly. 

“Jer said he’d come later with pizzas and snacks, no one else really; they’ve got to film tomorrow.” He shrugged, setting his phone down to finish up his food. “Seems like a solid crew, the three musketeers.” He laughed.

“You text B?” 

“Yeah he’s got another filming for his other show. He won’t be back until next week.” Owen climbed up from the table gathering up the dishes to toss into the sink and be washed later. Yawning as they moved slowly to go and get ready for the day out. Their lives were oddly domestic, they spent so much time just laying together on their phones, or exploring the city together. It wasn’t crazy, or overwhelmingly exciting. It was simple, it was perfect.

Though life with Charlie was never...boring. He’d never say that. Ever. Charlie truly made his life exciting in his own unique way. 

They’d spent the day around town like planned, grabbing sandwiches and ice cream from the shop; riding around and racing one another in the beautiful Vancouver sun. Something so beautifully exciting about the way Charlie would laugh when they’d skid around corners and nearly crash into bushes. Almost a fun chaos to it all that couldn’t help but make Owen laugh. Eventually they called it, knowing Jeremy was heading over as they returned the bikes to the shop and got an Uber back to the apartment.

Owens' phone had a plethora of photos and videos today that he hoped to cherish forever, it seemed like every day during filming this show they were making really great memories. “Jer!” He beamed catching sight of the dark haired man waiting for them outside of the apartment, despite the fact he had a key, before pulling him into a hug.

“I ordered pizza, it should be here in a bit. And I brought snacks!” He wiggled the bags at the boys laughing as Charlie snatched one on their way inside.

“We could play some games, or watch a movie.” Charlie suggested skipping up the steps, but moving aside for Owen to unlock the door as they headed inside. “Owen and I just got a bunch of new games from the PlayStation store. A lot of nonsense.” He snorted dropping down onto their couch as Jeremy shrugged his coat off and hung it up. Joining them both on the couch as they booted up the tv. 

They’d settled for some split screen games taking turns on who went when, taking bites of pizza in between and busting out the snacks only a little while after. Owen had way less stamina for the games then the other two, tilting his head a bit as he passed the controller off and moving to scroll through his phone.

“It’s because he’s a sore loser.” Charlie whispered loudly making the blonde roll his eyes and kick at the other a bit.

“It’s because I don’t play for hours on end multiple times a day.” He mocked sticking his tongue out.

“It’s okay to lose O.” Jeremy joked playfully knowing he was safer at the other end of the couch, but the distraction allowed Charlie to get him making him shout as they got drawn back into their game the two chasing one another through the map.

Owen swallowed roughly, untangling himself to go into the kitchen. Skipping the soda for a glass of water that he drank slowly watching the tv. Only the sensation doesn’t go away, that strange tingling that sends alarms off in his mind and he nearly drops the glass as soon as it clicks. It burns, quickly spreading over his face, all over his skin and continues to only get worse and tighter. Only more and more painful spreading down his skin and it feels like there’s acid in his stomach. “Char.” He forces out in a tone that has the brunette whipping around so fast he’s almost a blur. His bright eyes went wide as he leapt over the back of the couch into their kitchen.

“Hey; where is it? Where’s your bag?” He asked calmly. Jeremy already pulling his phone out calling for help. Owens' fingers strained, keeping himself up as he feels that sensation spreading across his body and skin. “O where’s the bag?” He asks firmly and he points shakily by the door. Hanging on their coat hooks before his knees give. 

Charlie’s arms wrap around him lowering him onto his side before he was leaping up to grab the black bag hanging in the door and drops hard onto his knees back near the other. Jeremy is next to him now helping to get Owen propped up as he strains. It’s a bad one, it’s coming on to fast that they skip some of the usual steps as Charlie follows the familiar motions before slamming the pen down into the others leg. He waits, massaging over it a moment later before his eyes fly to the others face. There’s always that hesitation and doubt of what if it doesn’t work, what if this time it doesn’t do its job.

Owens got tears running down his cheeks, his eyes clenched shut, his lips parted as he struggled to pull in any kind of breath. Charlie’s heart breaks, it does every time they have to go through this. It’s not something he can stop, not something he can ever protect Owen from. Even if they are careful, even if they read labels. This still happens. He finally pulls in one shaky but full breath. Charlie’s hands gentle as he pets over him and gets the sweaty strands away from his face. “I’m here.” He soothed softly. “I’m right here Owen.” He comforted gently. “I’ve got you.” He slowly moved to uncurl the others hand and grasp his fingers tightly. Tears in his eyes that he pushed back for the other. Owens' breaths are coming now, slow and stuttered but slowly getting strength. He grabs the inhaler from the bag, bringing it to his lips and gently guiding him to take a few breaths of the steroids to ease some of his breathing.

“I’ve got you.” He soothed gently, kissing the sweaty forehead as the breaths came in more calmly and controlled. Jeremy was climbing up to let the paramedics in; they were quick asking the usual questions and hooking up the machines and tools to the other to get the readings. Getting a list of his allergies and medications from Charlie. There shifting him to lay out on the stretcher getting the IV in before moving. 

“I’m coming.” Charlie said firmly, grabbing up Owens' bag as he moved, looking at Jeremy who nodded.

“Alright then come on.” The man said firmly as they asked Owen a few routine questions heading out of the apartment building and into the ambulance. He let Jeremy handle notifying the crew and everyone else and thankfully; there was no filming tomorrow so it shouldn’t conflict but they always deserved to know. 

“His mom,” Charlie reminded softly, his voice tight as he looked at the oxygen mask being placed over Owens face. Jeremy nodded moving to message her next, always keeping in contact and reassuring her. Letting her know how he was doing with everything. His fingers gently brushed over his hand, his thumb rubbing against his hand as he watched him. 

This had become a horrible routine; as they took him into emergency making sure they got all the right medicines into him, that his airways were open, his breathing was okay. They checked his blood pressure and a variety of other tests. Jeremy stayed with him the whole time. Right by his side as they thoroughly ensured everything was good and discharged Owen.

He was exhausted, he always was after these kinds of things. There really was no getting him to talk, or do much of anything. You had to help him move around and walk, everything leaving his body the moment the attack hit. Jeremy helped him get him comfortable in their Uber, Owens head laying against him his eyes only slightly open showing he was still conscious but he wasn’t doing much else. His fingers laced with Charlies giving him a soft squeeze now and again. They worked together to get him back up into the apartment and to their room. 

Charlie gently tucked him in, making sure he was fully out before wandering out of the bedroom slowly. “Sorry tonight went a different way.” He whispered, looking at all the snacks. 

“I’m sorry man...I checked all of them.” He admitted. “I did. Every single one was good. I read all the labels. Not even processed near any of his allergies.” 

“It’s not your fault….it was probably a cross contamination with the pizza. Maybe some pesto or something got in it who knows. We can’t prevent them all.” Charlie relented, sadly moving to clean up with Jeremy's help. “That...that was a bad one.” He finally vented a bit, his chest hurting as he sank down he never could vent these kinds of things to Owen. He went through enough as it was having to worry so much about this kind of stuff.

“Yeah...yeah I could tell...I’ve never seen it happen so fast.” Jeremy admitted. 

“He.” Charlie swallowed. “He had this really bad one a few months back. When we first started-yanno. I didn’t know if I’d eaten something it could spread to him if we kissed and stuff. He ended up-it was bad.” He forced out. “And then like-the next day I guess there can be a secondary trigger and it happened again. He hadn’t even done anything, just his body freaked out. I was so scared…” He breathed out slowly. 

“I’ll stay? Okay? I’ll crash in your old room…” Jeremy said softly. “That way I’m here if it happens again, or at least to just...be some help tomorrow I know second days are always really rough.” Charlie couldn’t help but pull the other close, squeezing him tight. Tomorrow hed wake up with a smile on his face and not a care in the world. He’d put on that face and that positivity Owen needed more than anything. Because it was all he could do, and it would be okay. He’d rest up and be back to himself in no time. 

Charlie kept those thoughts close as he climbed into bed, holding Owen close and curling up with him when he finally went to bed. Smelling that distinct smell of the others shampoo, and feeling that rise and fall against his chest as he was lulled to sleep the sound of the others breathing filling his ears with the sensation of his heartbeat against his chest.