#clearly I am completely sane about this and barely even think about this

[fictiongods]

Literally all of Faiths mommy issues could have been fixed if she literally just got to meet Jenny Calendar

[killedpink]

[03:32]

thinking about han jisung late at night is dangerous for my wellbeing. oh well. this isn't even proofread lmao

🏷 contains: sub reader x dom jisung, chocking if u look closely, unestablished relationship, power imbalance, size kink, hair pulling, marking, mutual pining, oral sex, penetrative sex, lowkey hand kink idk if you can tell, jisung’s kinda mean but that's ok, slight praise, slight spit kink, a sprinkle of spanking

it wasn't uncommon to find yourself in a literal wrestling match with jisung — he was playful and volatile, and it was unlike him to back down from anything. it was, however, uncommon to find him taking it a bit too far.

he had you underneath him, his arms either side of you. after many, many experiences like this you had learned you didn't have long if you stayed in this position: you'd lose. allowing your body to take over for your mind, your knee jabbed him in the side and you sat up onto your legs once you saw him dart out of your way to avoid more impact. you didn't think you had hurt him terribly bad.

"you little — fucker!" he hissed, groaning in pain as his hands clutched his side. your brows knitted together in confusion. you've been harder with him before, surely that didn't hurt? "jisung? i'm so sorry, fuck, i didn't think i—" you were cut off from the air leaving your lungs from the impact. your heartbeat was frantic in your chest, the ringing ever so prominent in your ears.

"don't worry, you didn't hurt. you're just getting too cocky," jisung cooed, his voice a dizzying contradiction from his physical strength. the position he had you in was enough to make any sane person blush, let alone someone like you; who had been so desperate for that man that you dreamt of having him often. he was hovering over you, straddling your hips and his hair brushing against what little forehead was exposed, lips barely touching your ear, giving you goosebumps you prayed he wouldn't detect. your cheek was firmly pressed against the bedding, your head turned to the side and yet simultaneously buried into the sheets. and the cherry on top was where his hands were placed.

one, just above your head, bracing your skull against the headboard in case he slammed you a bit too passionately. and the second, on your neck, using just enough force to keep your head down and make you dizzy and compliant. you knew better than to try fighting when it was clearly game over. he wouldn't be as forgiving if you pushed his victory like that.

"holy shit. are you into this?" jisung's tone was raspy, one of the rare times where he was quieter. was he in disbelief? you didn't realise you were rubbing your thighs together until jisung separated them with his knee and you suddenly felt empty and impossibly desperate. "is it such a bad thing if i am?" you challenged, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks in embarrassment. jisung tutted in response, "now who said anything like that, hm?" his lips brushed against your jaw as he spoke, leaving a gentle kiss to your skin as he affectionately squeezed you a little harder. it was hard to get a gasp through your throat but you managed it, screwing your eyes shut tight as your vision became fuzzy.

it was a miracle he let you go, leaning back onto his knees similarly to how you did earlier. but jisung was always like that: unreadable. even if you knew essentially everything there was to know about him and his habits, he’d still surprise you by acting completely different. he always kept you guessing and it was addicting. jisung was the only man to leave you so.. mindless. his honeyed brown eyes raked over your figure, drinking in the state he left you in happily.

his fingertips brushed against your skin, dancing along the wells of your collarbones, against the blushing marks of your neck, fingering the distressed collar of your t-shirt that sagged on your body (likely from where he pulled you by the scruff of your neck earlier), paying special attention to your wetted, kissable lips. the pad of his thumb stroked your lips, and without even thinking about it, you found your lips parting and your tongue brushing against his finger. he was so soft, it was infuriating.

jisung hummed in satisfaction, urging you to take him all in, the rest of his fingers cupping the underside of your chin. he watched you intently, through his dark gaze and through his blown-out pupils. you found your own hands grabbing onto the shirt that clung to his delectable figure. he always did look good in black.

you whined in protest when he pulled himself from your warm mouth. rolling his eyes, he held your arm gently in place, grounding you to the current moment. his thumb still rested atop your tongue, slowly retreating it back into his lap. you felt him kiss your wet tongue, and you also felt him deposit a morsel of spit onto your mouth. you moaned, hips chasing any friction it could craft in desperation. "swallow it," he encouraged, using the back of his fingers to affectionately brush the swell of your cheek, cooing and kissing you once he saw your throat bob to consume his spit. you peered up at him with a half-lidded gaze, “do you want me?” jisung asked, the vibrations in his chest from his purring voice made you so, so giddy. you nodded before even fully processing what he was asking of you, but once you grasped it you couldn’t shut up. “yes, jisung. i want — no, i need you — so fucking bad. i have for so long. please, please let me have you. take me, jisung. please, i can’t take it anymore,” your pleading eyes told him all he needed to hear. “sh, i’ve got you. let me take care of you, okay?” jisung cooed, stroking the top of your head and tucking the hair behind your ears. he held your cheeks in the palms of his hands, taking up your entire face as he did so, and pressed his lips to yours gingerly. he was so inviting, so intoxicating it was unreal.

he buried his head in the nape of your neck, nuzzling into you and pressing his cool nose into your burning skin. "you can do whatever you want to me, jisung." you mumbled into his hair, your nails raking up and down his exposed bicep as you felt him smirk against your skin. he planted kisses against your pulse, lingering on your skin like static. his kisses were unfathomably hot, and demanding, like a declaration of his neediness for you. his fingers creeped down your body and landed at your waist, thumbing the waistband of your shorts that clung to your figure. jisung's lips connected to yours once more, his tongue swiping at your mouth teasingly. "lift your hips for me, angel, yeah just like that," he mumbled against your lips in a low whisper. jisung practically ripped the clothes off of your lower half, flinging it behind his shoulder as if they were useless. in that moment neither of you could bring yourselves to give a fuck.

jisung groaned at the sight of your cunt, all puffy and sickly sweet with your arousal leaking out of you. his swollen lips parted in awe, eyes wide as he drank up the sight of you before him. you felt your heart rate speed up intensely, taking you a great deal of self-control not to beg for him to touch you, fuck you or do something sinful to you. as if he read your mind, jisung brushed his fingers against your slicked sex, easily slipping between your folds as if he's done it before. your hips quivered and your thighs twitched once jisung's fingers found purchase in massaging your clit, stroking the bud of your sex intently, observing every jerk and flutter your body made in reaction.

he manoeuvred himself to lay in between your legs, both hands holding the flesh of your ass and thighs while his thumbs pressed on both sides of your slit, spreading you wide for him to ogle at. using the flat of his tongue, jisung marked his path from your entrance to your clit, smearing your slick and his drool all over you. your hole clenched in response, your hips bucking into his face and your back arching off of the mattress. the room was spinning around you, screwing your eyes shut in an attempt to contain yourself. jisung hummed in content, "you like that?" he muttered into your cunt, ever the fast learner. "yes, sungie. so good," you answered, albeit slurred and strained as your throat was preoccupied in containing your whines. your hands flung themselves into his hair, fingers tangling and clinging onto his hair like you were telling a story.

feeling han jisung chuckle from between your legs was truly a moment you find hard to forget about, the low vibrations resembling heaven as his laughter blessed your ears. "i'm sungie, now?" he mused, pressing a fleeting kiss to your dripping sex. "do you — ah fuck — want me to call you something else?" you proposed, hissing in agonising pleasure as jisung, like the menace he was, continued his assault on your slit. he shook his head back and forth, coincidentally with his lips wrapped around your clit and his cheeks hollowed out as he sucked on the sensitive, needy bud. he broke apart with a satisfying 'pop', "no! sungie is perfect. so, so perfect." he answered, between desperate gasps for air, with a tooth-rotting smile on his face, his cheeks bunching up and his pearly white bunny teeth poking through. they hollowed once more for a brief moment, before his lips parted and you saw the spit slowly drip from his tongue directly onto your clit, hitting it's mark perfectly, feeling it slowly trail down your sex. oh, how he melted you.

with no reason left to chat, jisung got back to work on your sex, slurping up your slick and kneading his mouth all around your cunt. momentarily he'd glance up to gauge your reaction when he did something new, to see how you liked it, and of course, you couldn't help but look back at him, taking the sight below you in. the bottom half of his face obscured, his dark hair falling over his forehead and ruffled from your activities, and most of all, the wild things you could barely make sense of laying hungrily in the darkness of his eyes. he made your entire body, mind and soul crave only his touch; his voice and his scent.

you maintained the grip onto his hair, pressing your palms into him so he'd be urged to look away from his handiwork and onto you. "is everything alright?" he cooed, eyes never leaving yours. although, your gaze was all over him, taking in the sight of the wetness that coated his lips generously, as well as his chin, and you paid special attention to the way his chest heaved up and down, greedily drinking air into his lungs. his hair was disheveled, messy tufts of blackish hair stuck up everywhere and almost completely obscured his vision, leaving two eyes to catch the light through his hair ominously. he could never scare you, though. never in his wildest dreams would you fear him.

"jisung," you started, anxiety slowly seeping into you, "i.. want you." your cheeks were burning red, hot against the rest of your face. "you have me." he seemed puzzled, almost. was he that humble? frustration quickly replaced anxiety, "no — i want you.." emphasising the word 'want' seemed to do the trick, as jisung realised you were asking for him to fuck you, more or less. his eyes widened. "oh! are.. are you sure?" he asked, voice soft and tender. you nodded, rolling your eyes, "han jisung, please fuck me." you uttered.

"fuck, that was hot. y'don't have to ask me that twice." he teased, holding your gaze for a brief moment before looking down at his jeans, allowing you to help him unbuckle his belt, even if all you did was tug on the loops desperately. you palmed his clothed erection as soon as you saw it, your hands flinging to him greedily; and you couldn't hold enough of him in them. you always clawed for more, your hands always wandered around in search of him. jisung discarded of his jeans swiftly, allowing them to pool on the floor somewhere in which neither of you cared about. as he leaned back you leaned forward, following him like a magnet. your hands rested atop his thighs, "can i?" you looked him in the eyes and lead your gaze to his clothed cock, sitting heavy in his boxers. jisung smirked in turn, "try me." he shrugged nonchalantly, with an amused look on his face that you wanted to wipe off so, so desperately.

holding his waistband in one hand, you tugged it up to pull the cloth flush against him, your eyes making out a darker patch on the material where the precum must have stained it. you parted your lips and let your tongue come out, barely covering your lower lip, and rolled it along where you assumed his cock head would be. jisung's head lolled back onto his shoulders, his thighs quivering and his ab muscles contracting while he let out such a melodic groan that you wished your mouth was on his so you could devour his pretty noises.

at first, it was unpleasant on your tongue, but the wetter the spot grew, the more of jisung you could taste and the stickier the material became. he started to buck his hips into your mouth, but when you recoiled and let him chase you, he had enough of your games. tipping his weight forward wasn't hard, and neither was trapping you in his arms. "what are you doing?" your tone was curious, slow and experimental. "what i want." jisung hissed in reply, turning you around so your back was facing his chest. "ass up, beautiful," he commanded, so casually it genuinely bewildered you. he urged you to obey with a few teasing raps to the flesh of your ass, fingers snaking under your pelvis in order to begin lifting you up. it didn't take you long to follow up on his request, arching your back and readjusting your knees and thighs. the palm of jisung's hand rounded out on the globe of your ass, stroking you affectionately, "attagirl." he rasped, letting the praise roll off of his tongue so deliciously your cunt involuntarily clenched, your stomach quivering in unison.

nothing could have ever prepared you for the first, initial feeling of han jisung's hard, thick cock merely pressing against your wet cunt. it was electrifying and literally sparked chills up your spine. you buried your head into the pillows sitting below you, keening into his touch like a starved whore. his hands grasped onto the start of your hips, just before where they start to swell, thumbs rubbing gentle circles into your skin to calm you. spoiler: it didn’t do much, instead only riling you up further. you felt his head softly sawing up and down your slit, often catching on your clit, causing him to press his hips into your ass just to keep rubbing your clit in the way that got you to whine so carelessly for him.

when he finally pushed his tip into your entrance you saw stars. you wiggled your hips to entice him to fuck further into you, now suddenly, and painfully aware of every inch of your sex that has yet to be claimed by jisung. it made you feel deliriously aroused when you felt jisung slowly slide into your dripping hole, to the point you felt dizzy. meanwhile, jisung watched your cunt swallow every inch of his cock that he fed you, watching himself disappear inside of you made his heart — and cock — swell; he had actually groaned at the sight, let alone the feeling. "you're taking me so well," he muttered, with a dopey, sex-crazed grin on his gorgeous face.

it was a miracle jisung composed himself, finding a rhythm that pleased both of you proved to be so easy, the both of you simply happy to finally have the gumption to fuck, after a handful of years going back and forth with flirting and the odd passionate kiss that was too scary to bring up again, instead finding it easier to only think of it when you were both lonely late at night.

feeling jisung split you open was an entirely different feeling, his head leaking precum and sliding into you with ease, the girth of his shaft knocking the air out of you and the filthy words falling from his filthier mouth made you helplessly mindless. his thrusts were spirited and energetic, always managing to sting each time his hips and pelvis connected with your skin, and with the way he was bullying his cock into you it was bound to leave you bruised and giddy after. he was so big, not just his cock, but all over, from his biceps to his hands to his thighs — he was huge. one hand found its own way into your hair, petting you and stroking the wisps out of your face, all the while he muttered how well you were doing for him, and how heavenly your insides felt. your own hips met his, with each thrust jisung grew meaner, hornier and sharper. with the hand in your hair he grabbed a fistful, fingers harsh and tight against your soft hair, skilfully using it to drag your head up into the air, until his wrist bumped against your back, making you face the ceiling.

it stung, it stung so bad your body clenched around jisung so tight his hips stuttered into you briefly. he leaned over you until his nose brushed against the curve of your neck and his lips the juncture where your neck met your shoulder and bit down rather harshly, tearing a full-bodied moan from deep within you. your chest heaved for air and with this new position, jisung repeatedly slammed into the spongey bit that lay buried inside of you with ease. he undid you so easily, whispering praises into your bruised skin and gingerly kissing your neck as if he wasn't colliding his cock into you with as much force as he could muster in his position, his grip on you unwavering.

jisung left you helplessly at his mercy, tormented by his brutal, hungry pace and intoxicated by his sweet, tender cruelty. he watched as you leaned into him and the way he caged you into him, and he felt the way your heart leaped at his touch, not unlike a hummingbird's delicate wings in the stone cold winter. he watched as he unravelled you, each whimper and moan that left your lips grew louder, and needier. each cry of his name held the same cadence, reminding him of a hymn written solely with his name. jisung took note of the way your erect nipples poked through your shirt, leaving small peaks in your silhouette. he watched the way your brows furrowed and your eyes fluttered closed, and he certainly watched you take your bottom lip between your teeth as a way to muffle yourself.

he also felt the way his own orgasm approached, as if time was slowing down just for the two of you. his cock head felt so sore, so tender and heavy, mirroring the way the rest of his body felt. his body had a shimmer of sweat to his tanned skin, and his mind felt so fuzzy, filled only with thoughts about how good you let him fuck you, how perfect you sound and felt, how mesmerising you moved and rocked into him. jisung pressed himself as far into you as possible, pressing his chest flush against your back, or what parts of it that wasn't arched, the stickiness of your sweat sheened bodies sticking your skin together briefly, although the heat of his body lingered around you for a while longer. he bottomed out inside of you, biting his own lip as his throat let out a blissful cry, his heavy balls twitching as he emptied out inside of your waiting hole, spilling your own cum out of your puffy cunt and leaving a white ring of your mixed orgasms around jisung's cock in exchange.

your mouth opened in a silent scream, jaw going slack as your body quivered below jisung, a burning sensation spreading throughout you as if fireworks were let off in your veins. you clenched and fluttered around him, your hips pushing your sex onto his. you surrendered yourself entirely to jisung and the magnificent way he fucked you, crying out his name as if you were praying to a god in your most desperate hour of need, birthing an entire new meaning to his name as a thank you to him. his heart glowed with pride as you took the better half of three minutes to come down from your orgasmic, mindless state.

jisung settled beside you, using up the time you took for his own come-down, watching over you to ensure you were safe and satisfied. once he felt you shift closer to him he grinned proudly, his hand wrapping around the clammy skin of your back. "fuck, we need to do that again."

[pessimisticpigeonsworld]

Hey hey hey just quick question, have you come across certain individuals arguing that Luke's death was justified or deserved bc "he ran away like a coward" and that Aemond had a good reason to kill him? I certainly am appalled by the idea of justifying or even cheering on the death of a child regardless of what he did or didn't do at like 7 years old (especially considering not even Aemond himself was planning on killing Luke, tried to prevent it from happening once he realized he lost control of Vhagar and the look on his face afterwards clearly indicates how shocked/full of regret he himself is), sorry for the long message I'd love to hear your perspective on this

Ugh yes, I've seen some of them pull this shit. Apparently TG stans enjoy infantilizing their favs while hating the blacks for actually acting their age.

They excuse Alicent's actions for the entire twenty years the show covers because she was a child bride. Meanwhile, Rhaenyra must act like a mature adult when she's fourteen and be completely understanding of Alicent marrying her father when she has no context for what happened.

They excuse Aegon constantly bullying his siblings and being a literal rapist because his "daddy doesn't love him". However, Rhaenyra is expected to be grateful for being allowed to pick the man who's going to view her simply as a baby maker, which she thinks because of the unaddressed trauma of what happened to her mother.

They excuse Aemond never maturing past one prank done by his brother (the pig prank) and believing blood purity because he was bullied :(. Meanwhile, Luke is demonized for attacking the older boy about to kill his brother (at least it looked like it, if we're being generous).

Now, Luke is being mocked for being actually more mature than Aemond and reacting completely reasonably to his situation. Luke chose to ignore Aemond's insults and stayed true to the oath he swore to his mother. He tried to leave Storm's End peacefully, tried to leave the situation without making the tensions explode into a full out war.

Aemond, who is three fucking years older than Luke, acted like a goddamn middle schooler, trying to get a reaction out of Luke. He chose to antagonize Luke and tried to start a fight in the middle of a dimplomatic mission. Then he chases Luke and his barely old enough to ride dragon on his giant war dragon through a storm yelling maniacally about maiming a child.

What sane person wouldn't run away from that? Luke was smart enough to know that he'd die if he stuck around Storm's End and he'd die if he tried to fight Aemond.

Both of them lost control of their dragons, Luke's trying to defend him and itself, Aemond's trying to kill Luke (which Aemond was basically communicating). Aemong somehow didn't realize that chasing a child through a storm on the biggest dragon alive wouldn't end badly, yet his stans constantly make excuses for him.

It's only TB that's expected to be perfect and act perfectly mature. The double standard is endlessly frustrating and headache inducing. The greens are ridiculous and infantilized by both the show and their stans.

[jasntodds]

Caving In [8]

Pairing: Gar Logan x Fem!Powered!Reader, Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 8,818

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, fluff, mentions of beating someone up (from the previous chapter), mentions of injuries, mentions of previous gaslightling (Gar),  I think that’s it actually??

Summary: ❝Tell me Atlas: What is heavier, The world or its people’s hearts?❞ You never expected your life to end up this way, turned upside down by an infamous Gotham villain. It’s been a living hell, every single day, until Dick Grayson brings you to Titans tower where you meet Gar Logan and Jason Todd.

A/N: Did I think Wednesday last week was Monday? Yes. And that’s why this is a week late because I didn't realize what it day it was until Thursday afternoon and didn’t have time to edit lol Season 2 Episode 2 starts with the next chapter, finally!! I am easily motivated to post more often when I get feedback 😂 You can add yourself the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary​​ and turn on notifications if you prefer that!!

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

The next morning rolls around and you groan, stirring awake. A warm body is laying next to you and your eyes shoot open, suddenly very aware of the night before. Gong to Jerry’s, almost killing him with your bare hands, finding the boy in the basement, Dick’s disappointment, and Jason reading to you. It almost doesn’t feel real, not until you notice the ache in your hands, looking at them to see the bloody gauze. The night before was real and guilt hugs your bones like a force.

You never wanted to be violent. You never wanted to be an angry or vengeful person. You were never the kind of person to even punch a wall when you got mad. You weren’t even the type that got mad about much. It was always so easy to brush things off and make a joke, make everything okay just like that. But, trauma creates these cracks in the foundation of a person. It puts cracks in every aspect of what made them them, creating the perfect faults to crumble them, and destroy who they were before. Trauma takes the jackhammer and pounds endless flashbacks and nightmares into that foundation until the person is a pile of dust. And you hate Jerry for it. And the Joker. And yourself.

You hate yourself the most because you didn’t put up much fight to preserve the person you were before. You caved right into the haunting ghost in the back of your head as it’s dancing on your own grave. And you hate yourself for being violent last night when you never needed to be. But then you look to your right and Jason is asleep, peacefully beside you with the book open on his chest.

You’re almost completely certain Jason would bite you if you called him soft. But, that’s how he seems right now and you wonder how he deals with it. Sure, he’s not completely sane or normal, probably because of the trauma he’s been through. But, you wonder if it’s just the books or if there’s more to it because you’re sure you haven’t looked peaceful in two years. How does he do it? How does he handle the ghost chewing at the back of his head? Maybe being Robin helps. He gets to be Robin, be violent with a reason, be a rebel with a cause. But, maybe there’s more to it. Maybe that’s how he can sleep at night with ease and maybe that’s why, despite his overall detached cold attitude, he’s still caring in his own way.

Jason Todd makes you think you don’t have to hate yourself for last night because grief comes in waves and trauma makes scars. It takes time. It takes care to make things better. It takes time and care and a support system to heal from those traumas and the grief. It’s finding a tourniquet to put on your bleeding heart until it becomes bearable. Jason’s clearly found his and now you just have to do the same and you don’t have to hate yourself for it.

But, you’re pulled from your thought as a loud and obnoxious banging starts on Jason’s door. You roll your eyes while Jason stirs awake just in time to hear Dick on the other side of the door.

“Get in the kitchen.” Dick sounds annoyed as he bangs on the door one last time before he heads down the hallway.

Jason groans, putting his hands over his face, as if to be unaware of you still in his room. He shakes his head, rubbing his hands down his face and finally looks to his left. Jason shakes his head once more, remembering you falling asleep by the time he got to chapter three. He didn’t want to wake you just to move into your room and he definitely wasn’t going to give up his own bed. But, just waking up, he did momentarily forget about that and forget about telling you some of his secrets. Suddenly, he’s very aware of exposed he’s made himself.

“He sounds mad.” Your voice is quiet as you keep your eyes on the wall in front of you, trying to read the graffiti on the wall.

“Yeah,” Jason’s voice is flat and raspy, filled of sleep.

You look to him and you’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t skip a beat at the sight of him. “Well,” You clear your throat as you sit up, choosing to keep your head straight. “Thanks for last night.”

“Don’t mention it.” Jason sits up with you.

He doesn’t know what to do with this. Jason hasn’t done this before. The whole reading to someone thing, sleeping with someone without actually sleeping with them, waking up with someone in general. It’s not even like he actually has all that much experience with any of it anyway, but this with you is entirely uncharted. He’s not really sure what he’s supposed to do or say or how he’s supposed to act. You’re friends, of course, but is he supposed to do something else about it? The whole thing is confusing and makes his head hurt.

“We should probably get out there before he has an aneurysm or something.” You scoff, looking back at Jason with a tired smile.

You don’t really know what to do either. At least falling asleep with Gar makes sense. You’re just messing with Jason when you flirt with him. You do, definitely like him, but you like Gar, too. And Gar is nicer than Jason is, usually. Gar is a soft person and offers this oddly familiar sense of comfort that Jason doesn’t. Falling asleep with Jason feels very…awkward like you need to be doing some type of walk of shame for something that never happened. But, you’re almost entirely sure it only feels awkward with him because it’s him. Gar is always comforting so falling asleep with him would just make sense, it’s easy. If you walked in on Rachel asleep with Gar, it would make sense because Gar is just a comforting person. But, Jason, it’s as if it’s awkward because there should be a reason bigger than this. It’s like you shouldn’t be sleeping together unless either of you have some ulterior motive, whether it’s to get together or do something more and maybe that’s why it feels awkward to you. Because you almost kissed him and there should have been this other reason but there wasn’t and now you have to navigate the day about it.

“Yeah, probably.” Jason huffs as you scoot down his bed and stand up.

Your whole body is sore. You didn’t actually realize how much you used all of your muscles to fight Jerry last night. Everything, at some point, went numb but right now, you’re definitely paying for it. Your legs, back, arms, hands, everything aches. Maybe, you weren’t actually ready to fight because you thought after a few weeks of training, you wouldn’t be sore. But now you’re standing here in pain.

“You good?” Jason asks, putting his feet on the floor on his side of the bed, catching the wince on your face.

“Sore.” You answer, walking carefully to the door and you hear Jason laugh from behind you. You turn to look at him, narrowing your eyes at him. “Oh, shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Jason defends through a tired chuckle.

“Ya laughed.” You retort.

“It’s kind of funny.” Jason chuckles, getting up from his spot and stretching, you noticing his shirt riding up a little with the action. Nice. “How’re your hands?” He asks, walking over to you.

“Also sore.” You look down to your hands, opening and closing your fists.

“It’ll fade in a day or two.” Jason assures you.

“That’d be nice.” You clear your throat as you reach for the door. “Good?” You ask and Jason nod.

The two of you head to the kitchen, Jason following you. When you reach the kitchen, Gar and Rachel are already there finishing up their breakfast while Dick is standing behind the counter. The two of you get looks from the other three. Rachel looks confused and almost a little disgusted, it’s as if she knows something neither of you are aware of. Gar looks sad, maybe a little heartbroken. That’s the thing about Gar that you also really like, he wears his feelings on his sleeve. He either doesn’t try to hide how he feels or he’s really bad at it. But, that makes Jason and you all the more confused. Clearly, you’ve missed something.

You take a seat next to Gar and Jason a seat next to you. Gar and Rachel haven’t looked away from Jason and you the whole time. Gar doesn’t actually know anything. The only thing he knows is Dick looked pissed when he woke up this morning and Dick said he wanted to have some type of meeting because of something you and Jason did. That’s all Dick would say about it and now with you and Jason walking in together, clearly having been in the same room since your door was open when Gar got up. It looks very fucking weird.

“Why is everyone looking at us?” You break the silence while Dick leans against the sink, crossing his arms.

“I called a meeting because of the two of you.” Dick explains but now he doesn’t sound so mad, he just sounds….tired.

“What did you guys do?” Rachel’s voice is accusatory. “You guys didn’t get caught like….doing one of those things Dick said not to do.” Rachel accuses, completely jumping to conclusions with the two of you walking in together and you lean over the counter to look past Gar with a confused expression. “In public.”

“Oh, gross.” You recoil back into your seat. “No! I would have more class than that!” You defend, annoyed about the conclusion she jumped to over one night. “We went to Jerry’s and I almost beat him to death.”

Dick holds the bridge of his nose and he would have liked a calmer discussion about it. But, sure, that works and somehow, completely fits right in with every other conversation that happens in his tower. What did he really expect?

“You what?!” Gar and Rachel both yell, leaning over to look at you and Jason.

“It was pretty badass.” Jason smirks with a huff.

Dick lets out an exasperated sigh. “No, it wasn’t. It was stupid.” Dick says, giving Jason a disapproving look.

“Yeah, that’s a thing that happened last night.” You sigh, leaning back and pulling your sleeves over your hands, Gar getting a glimpse at the bandages.

He’s a little pissed off. First of all, it was stupid. You could have gotten hurt or taken again. He could have killed you and Jason if he had some type of power you didn’t know about. You also could have gotten caught by someone else. It was stupid. But, he’s also kind of upset that you took Jason. Gar definitely would have tried to talk you out of it, but he would have gone with you had he not been able to. But, you took Jason. Why Jason?

“Kind of offensive as fuck that you’d think we....what went at it in the living room?” You huff because you aren’t just gonna let that go and it’s better than talking about last night. “Because I slept in his room?”

“What else would you have been doing?” Rachel tries to hold her stance. She knows she’s wrong but she’s also too proud to say that.

“Having a conversation, watching a movie. Literally, anything but that?” You fire back and why is it an issue when it’s Jason but not Gar?

“Think she’s just jealous, Y/n.” Jason chimes in, looking down the counter at Rachel who grimaces. “Gar and me, giving you attention, gotta get to her eventually, right?” Jason isn’t gonna let you take all the heat from Rachel. You have to deal with Dick and you’ll have to talk with Gar. Jason can shut Rachel up real quick.

“Fuck you, Jason!” Rachel yells. “I--”

“Okay, enough.” Dick cuts Rachel off, tired of the back and forth that he knows you decided to pick at it to deflect the conversation. Dick’s face is displeased as he looks to you. He is still a bit upset about last night. “So, because of last night’s events and that time the two of you,” Dick looks to Gar and Rachel, you and Jason wondering what the hell that’s about. “Snuck off behind my back, I have a new rule.”

“Here we go.” Jason scoffs, resting his head on his fist.

“Curfew for all of you is ten and there’ll be a lockdown. I’ll be the only one with a code to unlock the tower to come and go after ten.”

“Nice, guys.” Rachel quips. Yours and Jason’s fuses running shorter than usual with her this morning. What is her issue?

“Fuck you, Rachel. You didn’t fucking go anywhere anyway.” Jason huffs, looking down the counter at her. “He said it was your fault, too.”

“That’s not the point.” Rachel snips. “We didn’t almost kill anyone.”

“Well, actually, I did….kill someone.” Gar interjects. The argument starting to drive him insane. “We did get us, Dick, and Kory kidnapped and then I killed someone and then Dick killed people and then Kory killed people.” Gar explains with a slight grimace.

You look to Gar shocked. He never gave a vibe capable of murder, maybe it was the tiger. You’re not sure but you’re definitely curious about it. But, then you look to Dick, wondering why it was such a big deal last night. At least you didn’t kill anyone.

“We’re not arguing about it. I’m just letting you guys know. You can’t go off behind my back whenever you want. We have to have rules.”

“You our dad now or something, Dick?” Jason quips.

“No.” Dick shakes his head. “But I am in charge.”

“Yeah? How’s that working out?” Jason snips.

“That all?” You cut between the argument that is sure to escalate. It’s simply too fucking early for this shit.

“Yeah, that’s it.” Dick says.

“Cool, can I…go back to bed now? I’m tired.”

“You should--”

“Should have thought about that before I snuck out at two in the morning and didn’t go home until like four. Yeah, got it, I’ll try harder.” You cut him off before hopping off of your seat and leaving without another word.

“Is she okay?” Gar asks, looking to Jason.

Jason shrugs. “She’s probably just tired, man.” Jason watches you, keeping his eyes off of Gar until you’re out of view.

Jason’s stare did not go unnoticed by Gar or Rachel. It’s one thing for you to walk out together after last night and they both kind of thought maybe the flirting was just that. Jason flirts with everyone and you don’t seem to entertain the idea of Jason seriously but now, Gar and Rachel think there might be more there. Maybe not for you, but for Jason. Gar is almost certain of it, at least.

“Where are you going?” Dick asks as Jason hops down from his seat and starts walking towards the hallway.

“Shower, got a problem with that, too, now?” Jason quips back and finishes walking off before Dick could say anything else.

Gar takes Jason’s word for it and he figures someone should go check on you. Gar figures last night was probably a lot for you and maybe you’ll want to talk some of it through or just want some company to keep your mind off of it. At the end of the day, Gar cares about you and you’re friends. Dick isn’t going to check on you and Rachel clearly isn’t in the mood to be friendly with you. Jason is Jason so, Gar wants to do what he does best. Make sure you’re okay.

Gar sucks in a breath and he starts moving to get off his seat but Rachel’s hand on his shoulder stops him. “Let him do it.” Rachel says softly.

“What?” Gar raises a brow at her.

“He’s not going to shower.” Rachel rolls her eyes. “He’s just too Jason to say he’s checking on y/n. Let him do it. She’s not your problem.”

“That’s not…” Gar shakes his head and he can’t figure out what Rachel's sudden issue is. To his knowledge, Rachel and you are on good terms but the way she worded that, he’s thinking maybe not. “Did something happen between you two?”

“No.” Rachel shakes her head. “But, she went off with Jason for a reason. If they wanna do whatever it is, let them.”

“I don’t think they’re doing anything, Rachel.” Gar defends and that aspect is none of their business anyway. Gar is positive that Jason would have something to say if something more were going on or he would have flirty right in front of them right now. It is Jason.

“She slept in his room.” Rachel rolls her eyes. “They flirt all the time, seems like something’s going on and maybe they sealed the deal last night.”

Dick groans from in front of them. “Do you have to have this conversation right now?”

“She sleeps in my room.” Gar shrugs his shoulders, facing away from Rachel.

“Okay.” Dick lets out a sigh. “She’s your friend.” Dick looks to Rachel. “You are Jason’s friend,” Dick looks to Gar. “If there’s something, they’ll tell you both.”

“Because Y/n is so forthcoming.”

“She is with me.” Gar quips, his own patience starting to run thin. “Maybe she thinks you judge her too much.”

“And Jason doesn’t?” Rachel chortles. “Jason is one of the most judgmental people I have ever met.”

“Didn’t you have a crush on him in Chicago?” Gar snaps back and he’s sick of her talking poorly about his friend. Sure, Jason is a lot but they live together and they’re on the same team. Jason only ever even stars shit with her when it’s training. Outside of training, Rachel is usually the one to throw the first jab. “Maybe Jason’s right, maybe you’re just jealous or worried or something.”

Rachel is not jealous. It’s almost laughable because her two-second crush on Jason was just that. He’s charming and nice to look at but then a lot of things spiraled and Jason hasn’t exactly been nice to her since. But, she’s worried that if Jason and you are together and something happens, it’ll make you want to leave. You don’t seem the type to stay when things get a little rough or when you’ve been hurt. Rachel likes having you around, even if you defends Jason a little too much. She just doesn’t want to lose a friend, even when you fight.

“Shut up, Gar!” Rachel yells, cheeks flushing and Dick hates his life right about now.

“Look, last night was a lot for Y/n. Maybe Jason is the right person to check on her since he was there. Neither of you were. So, finish eating and get ready for the day.” Dick cuts the conversation tired of the back and forth and Gar and Rachel do as told, figuring it’s best not to push more Dick’s buttons today.

You’re laying on your bed, your stare at the ceiling while your feet are planted on the floor. You’re just not in the mood for it today. Every action has consequences and you do not want to deal with yours. You don't even know where you would start because so much happened between Jerry and the boy and then Jason and Dick. There's so much to unpack and you know you'll have to do it but you do not want to do that today or listen to anyone yell at you about it.

There’s a knock on your door and before you can even tell them to go away, the door opens. You sit up just enough, expecting to see Gar but it’s Jason. You almost do a double take. He just invites himself in now? And somehow, you’re not even bothered by it.

“Sup?” He asks and he has that grin that makes you want to jump out of your skin.

“Sup?” You echo, going back to your position.

Jason closes the door and walks over to the bed, looking down at you. “What’re you doing?” There's a hint of a chuckle in his voice.

“Laying down.” You keep your eyes at the ceiling.

Jason sighs and matches your position, laying down beside you and staring up at the ceiling. You look over at him with a raised brow. “You good?” He asks.

You look back to the ceiling. "What the fuck is Rachel's problem?"

Jason lets out a huff. "What isn't her fucking problem?"

"No, I mean, there's obviously something. She like...really hates you, what is up with that? You're really not that bad."

"Not that bad." Jason echoes.

"I'm not gonna stroke your ego right now, I did that enough last night." You retort with a laugh.

Jason laughs beside you, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. "Dunno." Jason answers. "Everything was fine until her dad possessed me and made me almost kill my best friend." Jason gains a snark to his voice. You want to unpack that trauma instead of your own.

You look over at him with a raised brow. "Yeah, Gar mentioned that." You suck in a breath. "Seems you have more reason to hate her than she does you."

"Well, I'm just..." Jason stops himself, you watching him carefully. He glances at you for just a second and he's not gonna finish that thought. He knows how people view him and if he says it out loud, maybe you’ll start to view him like that, too. Unlikeable, unworthy, not good enough, unlovable. "You're deflecting." Jason matches your stare and something about you being so close makes the both of you feel warm again. Neither of you realized you had even been cold, not until you make eye contact.

"You did say I was very good at it." You look back to the ceiling because the idea of looking him in the eye is suddenly nerve-wracking in a giddy kind of way. 

"You are." Jason chuckles softly. "So, honestly, you alright?"

“I guess.” You let out a sigh. “Just….ya know? A lot still.”

Jason looks over at you just as you look at him and maybe you should talk about last night. You did almost kiss, that was a thing that definitely would have happened had Dick not walked in. It’s in the air now and you can feel it but you’re both quiet about it. You don’t want to bring it up because maybe it’s a game to Jason. Part of the fun with him is that it’s a game. You can’t tell if he’s serious or not about it and that's fun. But, if you bring it up, then it gets serious. You get to find out exactly what’s going on inside that head of his and you don’t think you want the answer if it’s not what you want. And Jason, he doesn’t want to overstep if Gar is actively wanting to seek something out with you. He thinks he’ll fuck it up anyway. You’ve been through a lot and if he’s the one to bring it up, he’s worried you’ll reject him or worse, you’ll want him, too. That’s somehow so much worse because he ruins everything he touches. Everything and everyone’s lives get worse because of him and he can’t do that to you. So, he stays quiet about it, too.

“Wanna train?” He asks as you face the ceiling, choosing to let you take it out on him instead of talking.  “Get that shit off your mind?”

“Gonna go easy on me?” You quip, turning your head to face him as he faces the ceiling again.

Jason gains his signature smirk. “Said I would, didn’t I?”

“That you did.” You laugh softly.

“Get up then.” Jason sits up and You follow suit.

“Hey, Jay.” You call and your eyes are tired but soft. “Thanks again for last night, I owe you.”

Jason shakes his head. “Don’t tell anyone about the reading and call it even.”

“Why don’t you want anyone to know?” You ask.

You can figure why but you ask anyway. To you, it's just reading. Lots and lots of people read. It doesn't seem like such a big deal but to Jason it is. There's something about it that he wants to hide and you want to know what it is. You did ask him last night to tell you something, but you’re also a little curious why he actually did and then why he invited you into his world. It was more than him telling you about it, it's that he read to you. You think everyone should see that side of him, it might change their opinion, if it means so much to him.

Jason shrugs a shoulder. “It’s my thing.” Jason scrunches his nose.

It is his thing. Bruce knows, of course, because Bruce buys him books and has an extensive library which he's found Jason in several times but that's it. It's his thing that no one can take that away. Libraries are free, there's one in every city. The internet contains free books, it's the one constant in his life. But, a part of Jason likes the rough exterior he gives off and maybe if people know he likes to read, it'll soften him, even just a bit and he doesn't like that idea very much.

“And you shared your thing with me.” You give him a pout and Jason nearly combusts as his heart thunders in his chest. “Awww, that’s so sweet.” You’re joking with him but it makes your heart swell. It's his one thing and you’re one of two people Jason chose to share it with.

“Shut the fuck up.” Jason scoffs but there’s a smile on his lips. “I can share another thing with you.” He wiggles his brows at you.

You burst into a fit of laughter and Jason's heart skips a beat while his stomach swirls with your laugh. You suck in your laughter, letting out a sigh before getting your face an inch from his. “Only in your dreams, Jason Todd.” You pull away, getting a look at his flustered expression and you think Jason being flustered might be your favorite sight.

“My dreams just got better then.” Jason quips right back.

You laugh again, your cheeks burning. “Shut up.” You roll your eyes and Jason’s won the game again. “Come on.” You get up first and you offer a hand to him.

Jason takes it. “I’m not going too easy though.” His eyes narrow flighty, a teasing grin on his lips.

“I don’t expect you to.” You hold your smile, Jason’s hand still in yours.

There’s almost a sadness that encompasses you both with the realization that neither of you are going to bring up the elephant in the room. Jason expected you to. You’re blunt enough to say something or maybe even try to finish it. You don’t seem the type to be afraid of that kind of thing, if you were, you wouldn’t openly flirt with him and Gar. But, you don’t and it makes him a little sad. Not shocked, just a little sad.

And you, you expect Jason to make some joke about it or something. He should have a quip or something but he doesn’t. He acts like he didn’t almost happen and you even expect him to finish it from last night. Jason doesn’t seem the type to just let that stuff get brushed under the rug. You actually expect Jason to be blunt about it and cocky because he is about literally everything else. If he wanted you, you think he’d do something about it so it hurts, just a little. But, you both keep quiet about it and pretend it didn’t happen as you walk to the training room.

Later that night, all of you all find yourselves in your separate rooms. Rachel has kept her distance from you and Jason. You figure it’s best not to pry and you’ll figure it out later. Jason and you spent a good portion of the day sparring and throwing knives, Jason will probably always have you beat with sparring but you have him beat with knives. Gar joined you both for a little while sparring, too which was nice for both of you. It eased some of the awkwardness you and Jason created from the night before and from not talking. So, after the last training session, everyone took their showers and went off to their rooms for the night. But, Gar hasn’t had much of a chance to talk to you one-on-one today and figures now might be a good time. He still wants to know what happened and you’ve been quieter than you normally are today.

Gar knocks on your door and you open it within seconds, allowing him in with a smile before walking to your spot on the couch. The thing about Gar is that he’s predictable. You knew he’d be coming to your room to talk about what happened last night because you didn’t talk about it earlier. Jason was the one who checked on you which means Gar doesn’t know the story and you know he’ll need to make sure you’re okay because that’s what he does. Gar always makes sure everyone is okay and he’s predictable. There’s a sense of comfort in his predictability.

“Are you okay?” Gar asks as he walks over and sits beside you. You nod, smiling softly at him but there’s a tiredness in your eyes. “Did you want to talk about what happened last night?” Gar trends carefully not sure how you’re going to react. Gar is predictable, you are not.

“Beat up Jerry.” You answer, looking at the TV.

You aren’t intentionally being quiet. There’s just a lot to process and training allows you to do that without talking. Jason allows you to process without talking when he read to you. You like to process in silence but a part of you thinks that might end up being your downfall. Being quiet about everything that has ever felt too heavy has only ever led you down paths of chaos. Maybe you should talk more.

“Yeah, but why would you do that? You said you wouldn’t risk it and then you did?” Gar’s words hold more force than they normally do. “And you took Jason?”

You look at him, surprised that’s what he’s upset about. Jason?

You let out a sigh. “I didn’t…pick him.” You say, keeping your voice soft. “He figured I’d go after him with the newscast. He waited in the kitchen and caught me.” You explain and you feel bad. You didn’t think he’d be upset about Jason going with you.

“You were gonna go alone?” The worry stretches across Gar’s face and through his words, almost breaking your heart. You never considered how worried Gar would be had this gone south. He’s worried now and it all worked out, relatively okay.

You nod. “I didn’t want to involve anymore.”  There’s a sense of shame that fills your bones and maybe you deserve to feel like this.

Gar is just worried about you. He’s not even upset anymore. He was initially because you said you wouldn't go after Jerry and it was dangerous. And then you brought Jason. It all just hurt him and freaked him out at the same time. Then all day, you’re quiet. You didn’t have many quips for Jason, there wasn’t that banter or the usual kind comment you make to Gar. You never tried to sort it out with Rachel like you did when you had a small argument two weeks ago. Gar’s just worried and he wants to help. And you know that. He isn’t trying to guilt you or shame you. But, you worried him because he cares about you and if the roles were reserved, you wouldn’t be so nice about it.

“Why didn’t you come talk to me about it?” Gar asks softly.

There are a few reasons you didn’t just talk to Gar about it. A part of you is truly terrified that you’ll be too much for him. You don’t want to ruin him with your eternal pessimism and baggage. You’d never hesitate had you met him before the trauma. It would have been easy then but now you have all this bullshit weighing your shoulders down so much it’s hard to even get out of bed. You don’t want to ruin him or break him because you’re drowning. Bringing Gar down with you would be unforgivable.

But, a part of you also wanted to be mad. You’ve been mad for a long time but the anger and fury were suppressed by the need to stay alive. You didn’t have time or patience or energy to be mad and furious about any of it. All of your energy went into breathing and keeping your mind focused on an escape plan. No part of you had this energy to spend to be mad and sulk about every bad thing that’s happened to you in the last two years. Seeing Jerry on the news, it was as if it gave you permission to finally be really, really pissed about it. To be pissed at him for the unforgivable shit he did. The ghost in your mind won but maybe you let it, as bad as it sounds and as guilty as you feel about it. But how are you supposed to tell Gar any of that?

“I dunno.” You shrug. “Talking’s not my strong suit, I guess.” You tug your sleeves down over your hands.

“You can always talk to me about it, Y/n.” Gar urges. “Or we can talk about something else if you don’t wanna talk about that.”

You hang your head. “I know. I, uh, I just…I dunno. I wish I had a better reason, but I don’t. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Gar’s face softens but he’s still worried about you. “Did…it help?”

You shake your head. “No, it did not.” You finally look at him and the guilt is suffocating. “Jason had to pull me off of him. I just…completely lost my fucking mind. Um, the fucker had a little boy in the basement chained like me.”

“Wait, what?” Gar’s eyes widen.

“Yeah, I found him. That’s how Dick found out, I had Jason call while I freed the kid.”

“Shit, that’s horrible. Is he okay?”

“Traumatized probably, but yeah.” You nod. “He said Jerry didn’t hurt him.”

"That's...wow." Gar looks forward, trying to process what you just told him.

"Yeah..." You suck in a deep breath. "It was a lot so, um, Dick was pretty pissed. Jason...actually was pretty helpful and nice about it believe it or not." You scoff, gaining a bit of a smile thinking about the kindness that Jason showed. "It was pretty late and I didn't want to wake you up and have to explain everything that happened. It felt like...it was just too much." You shake your head. "I didn't... wanna even think about it anymore and waking you up would mean thinking about it. So, I went to Jason's room so I wouldn't be alone and he let me just be." You neglect the part about the book, not just because you promised Jason, but because you like the idea of keeping that part of a secret between just the two of you.

"He can be kind of a pretty good friend." Gar smiles softly at you, glad that you at least had him and he wasn't an asshole for once. Actually, Jason kind of treats you better than he treats anyone else at the tower.

"Yeah, he is." You nod. "So, nothing happened. I saw the look on your face when we walked out this morning." You chew the inside of your cheek. It feels like a lie but it's not because nothing happened. You didn't bring it up and neither did Jason but him not bringing it up, tells you there's nothing more. It's a game and that's okay.

"Oh, uh," Gar gives an awkward chuckle. "That wasn't--"

"It's fine. It was weird, I'm sure." You shrug it off because you don't want to talk about that either but it was important that you clarified it, especially with Rachel's comments. "Are you doing anything tonight?" You ask.

"Not anything out of the ordinary." Gar chuckles softly.

"Did you wanna just hang out?" You ask. "Watch movies, not talk about....the shit."

There's something going on, Gar can see it. He expects you to deal with last night, of course but something isn't sitting right. Something in the very pit of his stomach is telling him there's something more going on, something maybe bad. Something's wrong and he wants to know what. He wants to help. Even in serious conversations, you at least smile more or smirk or have some type of smartass comment about something. This time, you’re dry like you’re just trying to get to the end of the conversation as quick as possible. And Gar starts to worry more about you. But, he agrees to not talk about it for now.

Gar goes off to the kitchen to grab a snack while you grab your comforter and move to the couch. You pick one of your comfort movies and pauses it to wait for Gar. While you wait, you check your phone, something that almost felt like an impulse. The only one who knows you’re even...around are the people in the tower but apparently, those years of being glued to your phone have left a muscle memory that comes back like riding a bike. It's a weird thing to do as you think about it, but you shrug it off and scroll through Instagram to kill time.

"What're we watching?" Gar asks as he plops down beside you, a bowl of strawberries, with the tops cut off, in hand.

Your face lights up with the bowl of fruit. "Jurassic Park." You hit play, scooting closer to Gar and snatching a strawberry.

"Imagine if that actually worked." Gar says, almost in amazement as he grabs his own strawberry.

"There is literally an entire movie franchise as to why that's a bad idea. We're watching the first that proves that." You laugh softly.

"Yeah, I know but like imagine having a triceratops in your backyard or something." Gar shrugs at you. "That'd be awesome."

Your eyes narrow. "Okay, now hear me out."

Gar nods, a cheeky smile pulling at his lips. "You have my attention."

"You turn into a triceratops and we don't have to worry about anyone being eaten or impaled or stomped on." You pop another strawberry into your mouth. "I'll take pictures to show you and it'll be kind of the same thing."

Gar lets out a booming laugh. "That's not the same thing! It doesn't count if I'm the dinosaur!"

"IT COULD, GARFIELD." You yell with a laugh, completely ignoring the start of the movie.

"Nah." Gar's laugh subsides as he shakes his head, the smile turning a little sad. "I can only turn into a tiger."

You give him a sympathetic smile. "You told me you turned into a snake once, though! So, I think you could turn into a dinosaur." Your smile turn reassuring as your eyes soften.

Gar gives you a one-sided smile, still a bit sad. "Yeah, that was different though. I was almost killed by my friends and it just happened. It's like there's this block...I can't transform into anything else unless I'm really scared."

You pursed your lips before moving your mouth side-to-side. "Yeah," You shrug. "But maybe that's like the thing though. Maybe it was the trauma that made it happen so if you can figure out how to channel that, maybe you can change into something else whenever you wanted." You let out a breath. "Maybe talking could help?" You suggest because if you’ve learned anything so far, it’s that talking about it does tend to help even temporarily and even when you do not want to. Even just a little bit, it helps and you’ve learned that from Gar. You think maybe Gar should take his own advice talk about it a little bit.

"Yeah, maybe." Gar shrugs.

"You could talk to me. I bitch a lot but I can be a pretty good listener." Your lips curl into a cheesy smile.

Gar chuckles softly. "Thanks, it means a lot."

"I think you could do it. I think you could do anything, really."

"Yeah? Why?"

You shrug. "Dunno, I just believe in you." You smile softly at him, going in for another strawberry. "Does it hurt? When you turn into a tiger?"

Gar shakes his head. "Not really." He answers and he gains this look of fondness as he starts to talk. "It's like...electricity flowing through you but it doesn't hurt." Gar holds his voice with ease. "I just feel so strong and I wanna...break shit and scream in a good way. It feels...empowering."

"I think that's pretty cool." Your voice is soft as you look at Gar with endearment. "You deserve to feel powerful."

Gar quirks his head to the right, questioning what you mean by that. It's not that he doesn't feel powerful, he doesn't. Not really, not in human form. But, why should he feel powerful? He's safe in a tower with his friends. He's a Titan which is probably the coolest thing that's ever happened to him. He has freedom for the first time in a long time.

"I mean not like a power trip thing or anything." You clarify. "I mean powerful in the sense that you stand up for yourself and powerful in the sense that like you just get to be you, unapologetically and shamelessly."

Caulder Manor wasn't all bad. He was safe and always had food. He had his video games and he did have people there who were nice, though they weren't really interested in anything Gar had to say usually. Except for Rita, Rita usually let Gar talk about whatever he wanted. But, he was never allowed to stand up for himself. The Chief would gaslight him, tell him that he was wrong because The Chief always knew what was right. The Chief controlled him and made it seem like it was in Gar's best interest and his safety was of the utmost concern. Clearly, it wasn't. But, a part of that is basically conditioned into Gar now. It's hard to suddenly be able to speak his mind without judgment. It's something he gets to unlearn in a safe environment.

"Thank you." Gar's smile is soft and shy. "You do, too, ya know? Maybe...without the violence though." Gar's forehead wrinkles as the smile turns quirky.

"Ha-ha." You mock. "Funny." You laugh softly. "Yeah, I will try not to be violent again."

"You could get a hobby that isn't violent." Gar suggests, popping a strawberry into his mouth.

"I have hobbies that aren't violent!" You put a hand over your chest, faking offense. Gar just looks at you with a wrinkled forehead and narrowed eyes. "I watch movies and TV, that's a hobby."

Gar hums. "Is it though?"

You scoff, the smile still tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Okay, since you're so smart, what hobby should I have?" You prop your arm on the back of the couch, eyeing Gar with curiosity.

He shifts in his seat. "I don't know." He laughs, tilting his head back. "Do you draw? Paint? Play an instrument? Photography? Video games." Gar gives you a slick smile with the last suggestion.

You give him a shy grin, tilting your head to the left and right. "I used to do some scrapbooking." You scrunch your face.

"Wait, but that's like really cool." Gar shakes his head, a sweet smile turning up his lips.

"You think so?" You ask, voice laced with hints of confusion.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?" Gar scoffs. "Isn't like really time-consuming? And doesn't it take patience and practice to make it look good?"

"I dunno. Not many people seemed interested in it, I guess." You feel your cheeks burn. "Yeah, it can take a little while depending on what you're trying to do. I always had a theme for a page or a book and then I'd have to find what I was looking for that matched or take the pictures to fill in some spaces." You explain. "I would do extra chores to earn money to buy everything." You laugh softly.

You always liked the idea of preserving memories in tangible things. In an instant, everything can be ripped from you and it was. You didn't get to take anything with you unfortunately but the thought was there. If something ever happened, you'd have memories in a book, fully decorated and themed to whatever you wanted. It makes you sad thinking about it because you know you'll probably never see those books or some of those photos ever again.

"You should pick it up again." Gar beams at you. "Maybe you could show me."

"I don't wanna bore you." You laugh.

"You can't bore me." Gar shrugs as if it was the easiest thing he's ever said.

"Well, that's very sweet." You say softly, Gar's cheeks starting to burn. "Maybe, we’ll see." You tug at the sleeves of your hoodie, covering your bandaged hands. "Are you okay?" You ask bluntly.

Gar's brows furrow, a shake to his head. "Yeah, why?"

You shrug one shoulder. "I don't ask you very much. You're always checking on me and you said your friends almost killed you and that got you to transform."

"Oh." Gar huffs, looking to his lap. "Yeah."

Your eyes narrow slightly while your heart starts to ache. He's mentioned it before, just once, and he brushed over it then, too. He said Trigon made everyone do it but you feel like maybe there might be a part of that where it doesn't matter. He was terrified enough to transform into a snake so it must have been crushing. And from your own experience, it's always at least a little scary having someone you're supposed to trust come at you.

"You brush it off." You say quietly. "You don't have to. Not with me."

Gar's eyes go soft, holding sadness. He always feels like he can't talk about it. Everyone is just...okay. Jason and Dick were the ones possessed. Rachel ended up losing her parents, and killing her own dad even though he was a demon. No one really understands what it was like looking up and seeing his friends try to kill him. They weren't themselves but it was their faces and it was their bodies.

"It was just pretty scary, ya know?" Gar says, his eyes dodging your.

"Yeah, I bet." You nod with understanding.

"I don't." Gar shakes his head, brows raising as he tries to find words. "I don't wanna be mad about it because I know it wasn't them but..."

"It was them. In a way?" You ask.

"Yeah." Gar exhales sharply. "And everyone got to move on, ya know? It hurt, a lot." Gar nods his head, pain in his voice. "But, what was I supposed to do? After Rachel killed Trigon, we piled into the jeep for a road trip. Jason and Dick were always there. I didn't..." Gar pauses, feeling a mix of anger and sadness. "I didn't have any time to be away from them."

"It's okay." You assure him, scooting closer to him. "Like, to be upset about it. You should have had some time to recover."

"I don't have anywhere else to go." Gar's voice is so small and your heart breaks for him.

"Do you wanna leave?" You ask.

Gar shakes his head quickly. "No, no, of course not. I do really like it here and Jason's my best friend and I like Dick, too. But, I wish I had somewhere I could go to get away for a few days, sometimes." Gar bites the inside of his bottom lip.

"It's not the same or anything, but...you can escape in here if you want. It's still the tower and they'll always be around, but maybe it'll help."

Gar pulls a tiny, sad smile to his lips. "Thank you, Y/n."

"We can make a 'keep out' sign. Only tigers allowed." You nudge him, pulling a teasing smile to your face.

Gar rolls his eyes but the smile grows. "We can see how long it'll take Jason to break down the door." Gar chuckles.

"Oh, I would give it about ten minutes. You put a keep-out sign on something and I think he'll take it as a welcome sign." You laugh. "But, really, I'll fight any of 'em that wanna bug you when you're in here."

"I don't know if you stand much of a chance." Gar chuckles, glancing between your hands and your eyes.

"For you, I do." You hold your head up high and Gar's stomach twists, chest exploding with warmth. "So," You start. "I go to you when I have a nightmare and don't wanna be alone and you can come in here when you wanna be alone. I'll even leave you alone if you want. I can just put in earbuds or something, I don't mind."

Gar shakes his head. "You don't have to. I like talking to you." Gar gives you a sweet smile. "It's different with you since you weren't there almost beating me to death." Gar lets out a dry chuckle.

"A fair point." You match the chuckle. "Well, just let me know."

Gar wonders how you do it. How you have room for him in yourself. Yeah, last night you went rogue and emotions took over every part of your actions and you have nightmares at least a few days a week. You’re not okay, not by a long shot. But, you’re really good at either hiding it or seeming like you’re fine most of the time. And Gar wants to know how you manage it and why.

For him, it's like he can't because he doesn't have anywhere else to go or anyone to talk to. Rachel is too close to Dick to talk about it and she hates Jason anyway. Talking to Rachel about it isn't going to make him feel any better. He has to fake just being okay with it, a clean slate and all that shit. He has no choice. And he's always the caregiver. The one who's always asking everyone else if they're okay because checking in on other people means he doesn't have to check in with himself, dealing with all the emotional baggage that slouches his shoulders. But, he wonders so much how you can do it with everything that you’ve been through because Gar knows even he'd never be able to pull himself out of bed if that happened to him. And he knows he wouldn't have enough room in himself to help other people. But why do you do it? It's not like anyone would judge you if you sat in your room for a week and just cried, grieved for everything you’ve lost and everything that's happened. But you don't.

Every day, you get up and do your chores, get ready for the day with what seems to be, ease. You train just as hard as they do, Gar even swears you train as hard as Jason which is something insane to watch. You don't have to do any of it and you do. And you make jokes, smartass jokes but jokes nonetheless and you hang out with the group whenever everyone is together. Despite everything, you pull yourself together and Gar doesn't understand how or why you’re able to do it. He admires it but he's also equally worried that you'll snap one day. It'll drag you down so far you won't be able to come back from it. It's all gotta hit at some point and he hopes you know he'll always be there, despite what he's dealing with.

"Thank you." Gar nods at you before reaching over and pulling you into a hug.

You hug him back instantly. Physical touch has never been your strong suit. Hugging, holding hands, just a comforting hand on a shoulder. It's never been your thing. It's not that you mind it all too much, but you reaching out to someone always feels too much. It makes everything feel real and when someone needs one of those things, feeling real makes it all a little too scary and a little too painful, even for you. But, then there’s Gar and Jason who make acts of physical touch seem effortless. It feels okay to be a little too exposed and let the pain hurt when it’s with them because it won’t last forever. There’s something comforting in it, with them.

"Sorry." Gar pulls away.

"Don't apologize." You shake your head. "I like when you hug me." Your words are nonchalant. "I've never been much of a hugger but with you, it's nice." Your smile goes shy, cheeks burning.

Gar's chest blooms with confidence. "Oh, okay, that's...that's great then." He nods a few times as if trying not to be too excited about it and you think he's adorable.

"Well, should we actually watch the movie now?" You laugh softly.

"Yeah, yeah, start it over! I haven't watched it in a while."

"Shocking considering your love for both classic and, apparently, dinosaurs."

"Dinosaurs are cool!" Gar defends.

"Triceratops are my favorite." You gain this teasing grin as you face the TV and Gar shakes his head, feeling comfortable with you.

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[darkpoisonouslove]

Erendor/Samara because I’m interested 👀

And Marion/Oritel purely for self-indulgence 😇

Lmao sticking to canon is going to be a challenge considering how little screen time they have. And I mean both couples here.

Erendor x Samara:

1) I'm going to go with an educated guess here and say that they probably had an arranged marriage considering their stance on Sky's engagement to Diaspro and the fact that arranged marriages are totally still a thing as we've seen. I like that about them because they're clearly not head-over-heels in love but they seem very compatible (both in 2x14 and later in s5). Arranged marriage is one of my fave tropes and I think all iterations are interesting. Usually, though, my ships fall into the "hate at first sight that grows into begrudging love later" but they are a more middle-ground version. They're not bursting at the seams with love but aren't also particularly uncomfortable with each other which works very well for them as characters, I think. That would tie perfectly into their insistence on the marriage between Sky and Diaspro because they've grown to feel content in their marriage (so Sky should too) while at the same time they don't understand his passionate feelings for Bloom (because their situation is different).

2) Honestly, I've kind of grown to find how horrible they are funny. Like, Brandon and Bloom (in particular) don't deserve the dismissal and downright resentment that they get from Erendor and Samara but their intolerance and entitlement can also be quite funny. Especially since they've both had a couple more graceful moments which just means that they choose to completely suck about 98% of the time. Those better moments in particular are what makes them work as awful people for me because it feels like it was a deliberate choice made for their characterization. I am aware that it most definitely was not. Their characters specifically are literally just what works for the plot but the show of positive traits makes them feel more nuanced. It feels like there's something that could be explored with their characters instead of them just being hostile to Bloom simply to amp up the drama with Sky's arranged marriage. With good writing you can actually make them feel like complex people.

3) I LOVE the implication in Magical Adventure that Erendor just felt so guilty for betraying his alliance with Domino and the consequences this would have for the relationship between him and Samara. In 2x14 she's actually the one who's more antagonistic towards Bloom so I don't imagine she is fond of anyone from the Domino family. Having Erendor walking around like he's a ghost himself just because of his broken promise to Oritel would have probably annoyed her heavily to say the least. But then on the other hand, there's the fact that Samara is pretty much the only sane person in s5 (which was certainly A Choice) and she's the one who's more understanding of Sky and Bloom's relationship. It doesn't lead to tension between her and Erendor but I love the idea that it could. That is to say, their good character traits seem to be in total disharmony which leads to the funniest fucking implication that the only way they can remain compatible is to be on their worst behavior, always. Which, in turn, supports the idea that they are in love because, as I already pointed out, they are totally awful at least 98% of the time.

Did you expect all three points to come together in an essay-like meta because I did not?

Marion x Oritel:

I'll try to be short here because I put too many brain cells into the previous ship.

1) Love that Marion is the one with the Dragon Fire while Oritel is barely implied to have any magic. Extremely sexy of them. (Also, when the maids referred to them as "Your Majesty" and "Your Highness" in SotLK, they were talking to Marion first and she's who they referred to as "Your Majesty" because Oritel is just a consort even if they call him a king; you can't change my mind.)

2) Having a baby during a magical war? Iconic. On a serious note, though, I'm 100 000% certain that that was extremely hard on them both from an emotional and tactical point of view. It adds a lot of depth to their characters (or would if they had fucking bothered to give them any attention whatsoever) to know that they weathered the stress and dangers during the pregnancy only to then sacrifice themselves to save the Magic Dimension. Like I said, iconic.

3) Okay, this actually pretty directly goes against canon (5x12) but who can tell me that they aren't totally in sync in battle and practically know what the other one is thinking? Just try to convince me that that's not the case. They are totally battle mates and a power couple and their teamwork is pretty much unmatched. They are absolutely NOT each other's weak spot; in fact, the only way to defeat them is to separate them because their love for each other just gives them too much power.

Would you look at that? I can actually keep things short!

send me a ship and I’ll tell you three things I like about it

[talonxhj]

The night had been relatively calm. A day full of tattoos and avoiding various people with all of the extra side eyes he had been getting over that damned police report. It took everything in him to not roll his eyes anytime shifted across the street when he walked. Humans were like sheep. Easily gullible, easily eaten. So, Talon needed a drink. Needed to shed that Jiho skin he wore for the humans and simply be himself.

That was the plan when he walked into Triton. Get himself a drink and curled his lip in something like a snarl when some merfolk eyed him. He would fuck them up too. Despite what others may think, there was no doubt in his mind the siren rumors and hear came from them. They usually did. But he was determined to enjoy himself a bit, and having a drink was the start.

Of course, that changed when he caught a flash of someone walking in that he was…. Certain he knew… but they wouldn’t be coming there. Right? No, no, sane person would if they were human at that time of night. But it was how the other sirens and even some merfolk perked up at their entrance that had him on alert.

Finishing his drink quickly, he moved to the bar. Just barely sliding in between the first siren that had made their way to her. It was her. Cherry. “I wouldn’t say you were in my way. But this guy looks like he is just leaving,” he let out with a laugh, eyeing the younger siren with a threat clear, forcing them away before looking at her completely.

He got in close, almost inappropriately close, clearly claiming her so there were no questions about who would be taking her out of that bar. “I’m more than a little surprised to see you here.” He started; his voice low but friendly towards her. “can’t say I am mad about it though...” even flirty towards her.

the devil's den//cherry & talon

@talonxhj

The Triton's Horn was the last place in town Cherry was supposed to be in. It was nighttime, it was in the 'wrong' part of town, and she had to leave Sammy with Nan to make it here. She didn't usually drink either (she didn't exactly have the best memories of drunk people). So, really, there was no reason for her to be at a nightclub. Much less one that primarily catered to sirens and merfolk.

But, she really wanted to see him.

Jiho was trapped in her mind. As hard as she tried to resist, she had finally given into the urge to try and see him. She couldn't exactly use the excuse of a tattoo. So, this seemed like the safest bet. He had to be here, right? She was nursing her drink so much, the bartender was giving her the side eye. She took a deeper drink this time, nearly choking.

Cherry felt someone come next to her, clearly trying to get her attention. She turned towards them. "Sorry, am I in your way?"

[thebadboyfanclub]

It’s Alright Darling (Sherlock x Reader)

Ok... Was this requested? No. Am I writing it cause anything Henry Cavill related makes me feel happy? Yes. Enjoy!

Being Sherlock Holmes assistant was something a lot of people would kill for and that makes it even better if you think about the irony of it. However, since Sherlock wasn’t a normal person to mostly everything he did, he had decided to hire a woman as his assistant, Mycroft called him mad and unhinged almost every time he brought up her name. (Y/n) was one of the most intelligent people he had ever been around, combining that with a charming personality was the recipe to success.

“Well, well, well I see my brother is full of surprises”

“Hello there Mycroft is so nice to see you again as well”

She spoke in an clearly ironic tone as she took of her gloves, she was never a fan of hats other than the occasions she knew she would be under the sun for hours. As she walked in the living room area for what seemed like their childhood home, Sherlock had requested for (y/n) to arrive a day later than the brothers, knowing that her and his older brother were like oil and water he chose to “prepare the grounds” first.

“Where is the young little Holmes?”

“Inside, talking with miss Harrison”

“Alright... who is miss Harrison?”

“Miss Harrison is an excellent teacher and a friend of mine, come to think of it maybe you should go in and ask her to take you as well... you might be a bit old but I’m sure she can make an exception”

Mycroft found (y/n) intolerant, she was dismissive, unladylike, mouthy and a feminist, he still does not understand what asset do she brought to his younger brother. She only smiled while sitting at one of the chairs

“I will let you know I was an excellent student in all my academic achievements, although I suppose you were one as well that doesn’t really prove someone’s intelligence or manners, right mister Holmes?”

Sherlock let a laugh be heard at (y/n)’s quick response, even though he would never take sides and sometimes wanted them to get along, he had accepted that it would never happen and simply enjoyed the situation.

“Amused brother? Of course you are as mad as her since you didn’t only hire her, you kept her around and brought her in my home”

“Now Now mister Holmes, what type of gentleman would you be if you threaten to through out not just a lady but your younger brothers guest, unfortunately you are just further proving my point about our little quarrel”

Before he had the chance to respond a young girl walked in, wearing a white undergarment dress and looking disheveled. The girl who (y/n) could only assume was the infamous Enola didn’t even notice her being in this room.

“No, don’t do this to me. Let me remain happy, I am happy here”

“You are a young woman now Enola, you need an education”

“Test me, on anything you think I need to know in order to be sufficient for this world”

“If she taught you so well, you wouldn’t be standing in your undergarment in front of me”

Silence fell in the room for a quick second. His disgusting answer to his own sister made (Y/n) get on her feet, Enola quickly let her gaze fall on the young woman that was now in her house.

“Why is that a problem Mister Holmes? Undergarments are scandalous for the men when a woman they are interested in wears them, she is your underaged sister”

“This is a family matter, it does not- I repeat- does not concern you”

“Of course it does not concern me, but it does concern me when a young girl is being held accountable for walking in her home, to her brothers, completely covered and still being shamed for it”

Enola understood by that quick argument the lady was not here because of Mycroft, so it only meant she was Sherlocks company, she is not his wife since if not invited he would have at least informed their mother, so perhaps a girlfriend?

“Enola you have no hopes of making a husband out of your state, neither do you... miss (y/l/n)”

“I don’t want a husband”

Enola claimed, raising her voice at the ridiculous claim her brother made. Even though they haven’t been properly introduced they had developed a mutually liking for each other, at a brief look they seemed to have the same outlook on life.

“And that is another thing you need to have educated out of you”

At that Enola turned to look at her other brother, Sherlock, who had remained radio silent throughout this entire conversation. Enola kneeled in front of him, as Sherlock looked at her and then broke eye contact to look down at the book he was holding.

“Sherlock, Don’t let him do this to me”

“You are his ward”

“Make me yours. Guide me. Teach me. For him I am nuisance. For you-”

“Enola. I’m sorry, but it’s out of my hands”

“Just like his cruelty to our mother was out of your hands”

Cruelty to their mother? No, Sherlock would have never allowed his mother to go through anything, he is a man of honor... isn’t he? (Y/n) felt her stomach tighten as she saw this tragic scene unravel, she hoped Sherlock would have accepted and took her in.

“She is not dangerous. She is remarkable and always has been. And if you still can’t see that then shame on you both”

“So remarkable she left you in my care”

Mycroft shot back. (Y/n) could almost feel the pain the young girl felt, you could see it in her eyes how that was an arrow straight in her heart. (Y/n) decided to step up and try to help, she approached the young girl with a kind smile and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here to calm down. Seems like your brothers don’t share the same love and admiration you do for the woman that made them who they are”

“I am a self made successful man”

“but you wouldn’t be no man if the woman you frown upon had not broken her hips and went through hours of painful labor. Take that as some food for thought before you school me on my manners”

Sherlock looked at her in awe, as she stood proudly next to his sister and became the shield he should have been. Standing up for a girl you haven’t even spoken to or knew before this.

“Let’s go young Enola, seems like a woman’s presence is wanted here only when she does as she is told”

-

“Come in”

“Can I open this door and be promised that I will remain safe or are you holding a dagger and you are ready to take me out of this world?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, dagger you in your own household? I would probably wait to poison you a few days after we leave and write the paperwork of you firing me”

He smiled at her plan as he closed the door in her room. It was already nightfall and the only light here were a few candles, he had let her take a breather after the unfortunate event that had occurred previously. Even though he wasn’t the one that she went toe to toe with, his silence was as obnoxious to her as his brothers loud ignorance towards the female gender.

“You are upset”

“Of course not, why would I be? It’s not like you let that man embarrass his own sibling and talk down to his mother without her being in the room”

She had remained sited in the chair next to the table, a book open that seemed like she was writing on rather than reading it. He was aware she was holding a journal, he didn’t blame her for it, having a job like she did she was in desperate need of something to keep her sane.

“This is a very wary subject”

“I am aware of it, I just can’t seem to understand why not comfort her, try to change your brothers opinion, anything that will show you care for her, you do care for her, right Sherlock?”

“She is my baby sister (y/n), that’s a given”

She closed her book. She ran her hand through her  through her hair and got up from her sit, her hands going in front of her torso at a defensive demeanor, even when Sherlock should be cold or show his higher position to her, he couldn’t help but seek some type of truce with her, how could he not? She looked so beautiful even when she mad at him, the eyes he was so caught up in looked at him with fury, her delicate feature went harsh and she was dressed more... lightly now.

“I spoke with her earlier, she was in the garden”

“I know, I saw.”

“She asked me about you, asked me if you were my lady”

Her eyes went wide for a split second before regaining her composer and turned her back to him. She approached the window before she spoke.

“If you think of how she became familiar with me, she was probably certain I wasn’t even friends with your holier than God brother”

“You mustn't be angry at me”

“And why is that?”

“Because other than my sister and mother, I care for you and for your opinion about me”

She remained silent. Not only because she was caught off guard by his comment, she also didn’t know what he was talking about. Sherlock stepped closer to her, his steps making her heart flutter and her palms sweaty. He stopped when he was right behind her, he wanted to hug her, caress her, kiss her, still he was uncertain of how she would react.

“I still remember the night you got kidnapped”

Someone that Sherlock had helped uncover had escaped prison and kidnapped her. Luckily, she was retrieved safely yet again she was still shaken up by the scary experience, when Sherlock found her awake next to the fireplace she was so vulnerable and grateful to be alive she launched at him and kissed him passionately.

He shared his bed with her, in the middle of the night though she had gotten up and left, when morning came she acted like nothing had happened, barely even looked at him in the eyes for a week.

“Please Sherlock don’t pick at my brain”

“Why did you leave that night? Did you regret it that much”

“That night... was the most blissful I have ever been.... However you are still my boss Sherlock”

“That’s all I am to you? Your boss?”

(Y/n) turned to look at him, tears welling up in her eyes. Those eyes would be the death of him, it was with no doubt the window to her soul, that pure gentle soul of hers.

“What am I to you then Sherlock? This wasn’t just about me”

“You are.... what I never knew I needed”

His hands went up to her forearms instinctively, a soft caress that made her think his hands were made out of the finest silk, she felt goosebumps as he touched her. Her lips parted slightly as she took in a heavy breath, her eyes searching for a hint of a lie in his words.

“Sherlock”

“Shhhhh, It’s alright darling. You don’t have to say anything”

At that he slowly leaned in, his lips on top of hers at a shy and gentle kiss. Her hand went to his neck, bringing her torso to touch his as the kiss deepened, her entire body felt a rush go through it as they should the passion they held for each other with this kiss. As she pulled back her fingertips traveled to his face, taking in his attractive features

“I had almost forgotten how good of a kisser you are”

“Oh love, you will never forget it ever again”

[wizkiddx]

living and reviving II

yep when I said three parts I think I meant 4 oops

summary: an overdue conversation that has to happen - like it or not

warnings: cheating, swearing, pregnancy talk, lots more angst, think thats it?

tomhollandxreader

/////////////////////// prev

So with a new sense of dread and fear and complete and total isolation you uttered three single words before hysterically running away.

“Don’t follow me.”

Not now, not ever.

That had been three weeks ago.

And it still fucking hurt like hell.

It had ended up that Yamna had taken you back to hers, where you had stayed for a couple nights. During that couple of days, Tom had tried. He had tried to apologise, tried to explain, tried to fix things. But it just wasn’t that easy.

Whatever he said, it didn’t take back from the fact that he had in that moment meant it. So no amount of sorrys could ever take that back.

After everyone had realised just how serious their situation was, Tom had moved out of your shared flat - so you could at least be in the place you were comfortable. Afterall the nursery was built in your flat and clearly it was you doing all the baby stuff for the moment. Thankfully Yamna, having been cut loose so without job, offered to move in with you. Which was probably the only thing keeping you going.

Well, that and ben and jerrys ‘phish food’. Honestly the shop must think you’re running some sort of ice cream black market at the rate you’re getting through their tubs.

Everyone kept parroting that it wasn’t good for the baby. Too much ice cream . Too much heavy lifting. Too much stress.

And yes, it probably was. But that was out of your control . The stress and lack of man in the household meant you had to do the heavy lifting of shopping from the car up the stairs. Shopping meaning ice cream, which you only depended on so much because of the stress.

It was a vicious cycle of hell.

Even Yamna, the person you were relying on keeping you sane had started walking on eggshells. It was as though you were literally about to pop, she always had to have at least half an eye on you. You were even banned from locking the toilet door - just in case.

It felt like you were a captive animal, people kept coming to observe you, giving sad looks before gleeing the scene.

You hadn’t been sleeping well either. Of course, being 3 weeks of your due date didn’t help - but neither did the lack of Tom. In fact, for the first time since shit had hit the fan, you had actually been managing to get some decent sleep when Yamna knocked on your bedroom door, quietly calling your name.

“I’m asleep” Groaning, you pulled the covers further over your head, praying to god that she’d leave you alone. But of course that wasn’t happening, she just lightly chuckled before you felt the bed dip - she had perched on the edge… Toms side.

“You never normally sleep talk.”

“I’m never normally this sleep deprived.” She sighed, whilst you still stubbornly kept your eyes closed.

“I’m sorry I woke you…. but this is important.”

“What?” Almost grunting, you threw the covers down looking up at her in anticipation. That was another thing about pregnancy - you were always on high alert, always worried.

“Toms here.”

“Tell him to f off.” Quickly you stopped caring about what your bestmate had to say.

“He’s saying that he’s the little ones dad and that he deserves to be involved and…. and I think I might agree.”

“I deserve a boyfriend who stays loyal to me so clearly neither of us are getting what we want.” You weren’t angry at Yamna and snapping at her wasn’t the answer. And yet you still did it.

“Y/n….I love you and I am completely on your side. I just think that maybe, perhaps, you should at least manage to be civil before baby arrives. Otherwise… thats going to be a lot to deal with all at once.”

It was your turn to sigh, deep and heavy (or at least as deep as the baby let). Most infuriatingly she was right. The conversation had to happen at some point. With a baby there too it would only be even more traumatic.

“He’s here now?” It only dawned on you how broken you actually sounded when the words croaked out of you.

“Yeh hunny… I didn’t let him inside so he’s standing outside the door looking like a dickhead right now.” The image cheered you up a little, enough to sit up in bed and be wrapped in Yamna’s arms. Her actions said it all, she really only meant the best for you and knew how hard this would be. After a moment she leant back. “I almost considered calling the paps so they could get a picture and label him as a groveling dick.”

“You should of.” Of course you didn’t mean it, but the answer had you both laughing. It took a minute to calm down before she changed subject slightly.

“You want me to make myself scarce? I can hide in my room or go to the shops or-“

“Text the guy from the bar - you deserve a night off ‘babysitting Y/n’ duties.”

“I’m not babys-“

“Yes you are. Go out with him and have some fun, I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeh”

That was a bare face lie - but Yamna had been almost too good to you. She really really needed a break. Especially as the current plan was she’d be helping with the newborn too. Right now you wouldn’t have wished a baby on yourself - never mind your best mate.

“Okay, get ready then babe - but do it slowly, leave him waiting outside in the cold for as long as possible.”

“Obviously.” You laughed, hauling yourself out of bed, where she gave you one more encouraging hug before leaving.

After hearing Yamna leave, and brushing your hair and throwing on a new pair of trakkies and hoodie, you slowly walked towards the door. It felt as though impending doom were on the other side and every fibre of you wanted to scream and run the other way. But it just had to happen at some point. Why not now?

With a final sharp exhale, attempting to pull yourself together, you opened the door. Immediately your heart sank, seeing nothing. Had you really been that long? And even so, was a 10 minute wait enough for him to give up? You could already feel the hormonal pregnancy tears starting to spring, when a grunt drew your attention.

What you hadn’t considered was the fact Tom was ready to camp out, sitting on the floor beside your door. Springing to his feet, he seemed shocked you’d actually opened the door - makes two of you. When Yamna left she had told him you were coming, but seeing really is believing.

“Y/n! I-I… I wasn’t sure you were ever going to answer.”

“You and me both.” You replied dryly, still leaning on the door. “Do you er…. do you want to come in?” Again he seemed shocked, as though he wasn’t sure you meant it.

“Is that-that okay?” Shrugging you just nodded, stepping back so he could get in. He did pay half the mortgage afterall.

“You want a drink?” He quickly declined your offer, not vocally but instead rushing past you to the kitchen and turning the kettle on himself.

“Your the pregnant one. Go chill on the sofa, I’ll bring you a cuppa.”

And a bit taken a back by his forcefulness you followed instructions, from the sofa watching how effortlessly he danced round the kitchen. It wasn’t shocking, it was technically his kitchen too. But seeing him there felt so alien, almost transporting you back to much much simpler times. Seemed a lifetime ago.

After a couple of minutes, he rounded the sofa with a hot chocolate in one hand for you (because caffiene is bad for the baby) and a cup of Yorkshire tea in the other.

“So… how have you been?”

“Ate a lot of ben and jerrys” You answered without really answering, except he knew you all too well.

“That bad?” He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his brow “how about the baby?”

“I don’t tend to carry an ultrasound on me but she’s been keeping me up all night kicking - so normal I guess.”

“Thats good” He spoke before realising what he said. “Sorry no I um-I don’t mean it like that!” You all but laughed in the face of his flusteredness, only making the tips of his ears go pinker.

“I assume you had something to say and that you came here for a reason rather than just pity me?”

“I want to make things right Y/n - I-I mean your having my kid.”

“OUR kid”

“ Exactly! And-and I love you too and-“

“Bullshit” You may have murmured it under your breath but you had intended for him to hear.

“Oh come one Y/n, you know that!”

It was like the man was asking to be yelled at.

“Don’t sit there trying to patronise me! I THOUGHT i knew it but then I saw you all over another girl. So yes, I’m calling bullshit.”

“Ugh I… If your not going to even try to hear me out then…”

“Then what Tom? You gonna kick me out. I mean this is your flat after all! Maybe you’d like to dump the mother of your unborn child homeless on the street and forget about us - how’d that sound? I’m sure your fans would blindly applaud you.”

“Listen! Please would you just listen to me.” His voice was loud and tone harsh, making you flinch a little. Not because you were ever worried he’d hurt you - but how this wave of uncomfort shuddered through your body, baby even squirming in discontent. So focused on that you just nodded, shifting back into the sofa.

Tom had noticed your reaction and seeing you seemingly scared of him like that, well it broke his heart. Even more.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to shout, I just…. I really need to try and fix this.” He leaned closer, letting out a thankful breath when you just nodded, as if to say go on.

“I’ve really really missed you… these past couple of weeks I’ve never felt so gulity in my life. Not because of what I did! Well yeh that but-but more how much it hurt you and-“

“Fuck.”

You couldn’t help but let out that little curse of pain as a new wave of pain, which seemed to originate from your lower back, shuddered through you. Tom looked up from where his eyes had been nervously wringing his palms whilst he spoke. Rubbing a hand over your belly you shook your head and motioned for him to continue.

She was just kicking really really hard. Right?

“Uhm yeh so I just wanted to properly tell you everything that happened that night so at least we are on the same page? A-And I’m not going to try and use this an excuse but I had been drinking so-“

Seemingly baby disliked the end of that sentence too, causing another rippling wave to echo through your body, feeling as though a band was pressing tightly round your stomach. With another small curse it forced you to stand up, in the hope that’d ease her. Clearly she was as done with his shit as you were.

“Need a water.” You muttered, already waddling to the kitchen, where you heard Tom follow you immediately - like an inpatient dog.

“Y/n sit down I can-“

He was silenced by you freezing and grabbing his arm tightly - a physical contact he hadn’t been expecting from you.

“Tom… get your phone.” You spoke slowly, still not having dared to have moved an inch - fingers almost white from how tightly you were squeezing his forearm.

“Wha-are you-are you okay?”

“I think my waters just broke. Get the phone. Now.”

~~~ feedback is really appreciated + would love to know what u think as still in the process of writing so can be guided / helped by asks !!! ~~~

taglist: @maraudersandco @@minejungwoo @sippin-on-tea @thegirlintheswivelchair @lovehollandy12 @hollandlover19 @thefernandasantana @hunnybunimdun @hallecarey1@cedricdiggorysimpp @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @pandaxnienke @crossyourpeter @thegirlwiththeimpala @tom-softie @sunwardsss @spiitfiiires @radcloudenthusiast @ladykxxx08 @prancerrparkerr @wildxwidow @arctic-monkcys @ownbauer13 @tomhollandlol @marvelsbitch8 @peterr-parkourr @lizzyclifford13-blog @user1683 @elishi03

[dangermousie]

CFC Chapter 54

“A crashing car?” Ahahahaha I see you, Meatbun. But it was indeed an utter pileup!

I know I commented on this passage in its various iterations eight billion times already but I still have more to say. And it’s that XQC taking so long to realize that even though HY is young, his emotions and feelings are as genuine and strong as those of anyone older is so realistic - people do tend to think that especially with regard to children - think of a reaction of an adult to a three year old crying over ice cream they dropped. It’s all amused even if not meanly so. Because to an adult with vastly more experience, this is not a big deal. But what that forgets is that whether it’s ridiculous to someone else or not, to the person at issue that is a real feeling, AND that of course a person can only feel through the lens of their experience - what else is there? Emotions aren’t any less valid because they are informed by lesser or different experience.

Honestly, to me so far this is one of the driving messages of the novel - everyone is in their own world of issues and pain and none of these characters can truly look through the lens of another person and it would be so much better if they did. To XQC, for so long, He Yu’s strong feelings (and we know so many of these feelings are awful - despair, and self-loathing, and loneliness) never quite felt real and therefore never quite felt fully valid. And by the time it wasn’t the case, it was too late.

But the same is true for He Yu - he is so concentrated on his own grievances and his own pain, he cannot perceive others’ different issues. In He Yu’s mind, he’s the winner and always champion of Misery Olympics and while he’s had a horrible time of it, that doesn’t mean other people didn’t either just in different ways. Whether because of his condition, his issues or just his age, HY is not empathetic in the least.

And think about it - XQC does not have a horrible illness. He does not have unfeeling parents. But he had to watch his beloved parents brutally murdered in front of his eyes at 13 (!!!!) and then had to raise a 5 year old by himself. Is it worse or better than HY’s trauma? That’s a matter of opinion but what there is no question about is that is a different type of trauma and a different type of scar. Or think about the patient in the asylum whose name I am too lazy to look up - her life is such a theater of horrors that to me, it makes the combined issues of HY and XQC seem small, though once again that’s subjective. Nobody wins when people start this sort of competition.

My heart breaks for XQC but also - I am sorry - if/when HY x XQC hook up again (how? I have no idea! But that is one of the joys of Meatbun - I both have no idea how/where it’s going and utterly trust her), please have He Yu read up and learn things because Good God. You should not be in major pain the morning after unless you are into pain and XQC clearly is not!

The other thing is the bit about XQC forcing himself to walk in his usual ramrod-straight manner is the moment I went utterly gone for him. I mean, I liked him and found him interesting before. But this is the thing that flipped that invisible switch for me and I went rabid and irrational and now I am Team XQC and I don’t care what he wants and does from now on, he should have it. It’s so small but so real. My mother and her mother were both big on straight posture. And one of the reasons they gave was when you walk with good posture - you look confident but also it makes you feel confident and stronger. And I’ve actually found it to be true - when you throw your shoulders back and straighten your neck and hold your head up, it does not just give others a signal, it gives a signal to your own brain. So to see XQC insist on doing it, despite being emotionally and physically shattered - because of his pride refusing to give up, because he’s so unbending, but also this being some sort of instinctive armor, just hits straight through the heart.

OK, I laughed at HY as a fucking machine. But also, this is another point in the whole “everyone has issues” narrative and HY’s life could be worse. HY, with all his other issues, can pay an insane amount, an amount that XQC could not pay in a million years, so easily. It’s not even a blip to him. Hell, the fact that he forgot to pay speaks to that - I can see forgetting to pay a friend a couple of bucks back right away because it’s not much money. HY forgets because it does not loom in his mind. And this rich lifestyle is instinctive, is ingrained in him. I think he’d find it hard to be poor.

THAT is what he’s thinking about? Priorities are...

The sole good thing that came out of this insanity is that XQC is getting in touch with his emotions, even if those emotions are (rightly) rage. He’s too closed off from them normally.

The fact that you slept with a man should be secondary to the fact that you drugged and raped him, but here we are...

To me, this sums up He Yu as a moral wasteland. To still, when sober and past his fit and not under influence of wine, to still feel excitement over his revenge and to somehow twist it that it’s XQC’s fault for being raped by He Yu is !!!!!!!!!

(I suppose if I were charitable, I’d assume that the disquiet is small stirrings of almost dead conscience and his “he deserved it” is an attempt to justify the unjustifiable to himself, but I honestly don’t want to think so because I am so angry at him. Not until I see some more evidence. I don’t feel like being indulgent with He Yu since he’s indulgent with himself enough for two.)

1. The fact that you can tell from the picture XQC got taken by a man (I am gonna defer to Meatbun’s expertise here) definitely points to the fact that the pictures are going to be used for something bad later - because if it’s just oh XQC had sex, so what, he’s single what’s the big deal. But like this it becomes a different matter. No idea if it will be used for HY or XQC or both, and by whom (money is on Duan and co, but after the way HY went off, I would never say HY himself won’t use it badly somehow) but knowing Meatbun, it will go for maximum damage.

2. Ruthless? Perhaps. Unfeeling? Hmmmm. I am not He Yu’s biggest fan atm but that’s a wonderfully misleading adjective here. He does still seem to be in shock. And fixating.

3. The whole “hahahaha XQC is a hypocrite when he was all ‘I am not interested in sex’“ is - I am not sure if HY is just short-circuiting (fine) or using a rapist justification/rolling in a sea of toxic toxicity (not fine) because I am sorry, that’s totally like “he/she had a reaction, can’t be rape” writ large. Yeah, sure he had a reaction - you poured drugs down his throat. That has nothing to do with his default preferences or his actual state. THE FUCK?!

Anyway, we end on the whole “u mad bro?” bit and you know what strikes me? HY was all “I am done, we are done, my revenge is complete I don’t care” but here he is, still desperately seeking and craving reaction and interaction from XQC.

I remain utterly puzzled as to how these two will ever be a couple except for a couple being defined as “two mutually homicidal people.” Leaving aside everything else, I am willing to accept HY is in the closet - clearly whatever his orientation is, it includes men. But I do not get that sense from XQC at all. When he’s not drugged, he’s barely interested in sex with anyone and I do not get the sense he’s in the closet either. Chances of anyone, let alone He Yu, who is both a man and someone who raped him to humiliate him, being able to entice him into sexual encounters voluntarily is about the chance of me going to visit Mars. Meatbun loves doing insane things so I can’t wait.

PS I know people use the term psychopath all the time casually but ummm, I think He Yu may actually be one? When he has his father (!!!) on speakerphone, calmly carrying a conversation with the man as he’s raping his father’s friend in the club as he talks (!!!!!) that is...in RL I’d be “team lock him up for life, there is something so basic broken in him that it can’t be fixed.” Like - the hell? The ability to put things on different shelves so much is not in the same country as sane (it makes me think of 2ha and TXJ banging CWN being the curtain while performing court business but TXJ was bona fide clinically insane and also this is worse because this is his actual freaking father omg.) Of course, only time will tell whether it’s evidence of him being irreparably incapable of normalcy in terms of living in the world/interacting with others or it was an extreme psychotic (in casual parlance not medical one) break because most people are capable of truly horrific stuff if certain levers are pushed and his default is saner. It’s the question, isn’t it? Whether He Yu’s factory default setting is the monster of the previous chapters or the kid who’d cut his wrists so as not to hurt others.

Anyway, this novel is a terrifying roller coaster ride and I love having strong emotions.

[umbralrosa]

@fallesto (Yhwach)

玫:

Everything that came out of his mouth was so very entertaining. That he thinks she's referring to someone else: his father, someone she knows nothing of, nor cares to. Clearly, whoever their father is, gave his son a bad hand in life – so very similar to her own. With the exception being, her father is no man – far from human – and whomever their father is, would know nothing of what it means to suffer and be forced to experience it. Anything that lived, it killed, anything that thought, was driven mad...

Oh, how maddened she has become...

The only immediate response was a rosy smile, and her sharp canines and second incisors bare to the world to see. Whilst amidst that monotone and judgmental voice given to him thus far – is completely contradicted by a soft bell of a laugh. A giggle perhaps. So very sweet to the ears, gentle on the soul. She doesn't even focus on the fact that she, for once in hundreds of years, laughed. All because he seems so very foolish.

Though, it's gone as quick as it came. That break in her mask was sealed and put in place once more, and to any average human, would cross as uncanny and discomforting. She's not human.

"I need not be demented to serve anyone, let alone a man I could care less for, nor know nothing about. You are right of only one thing – I am very demented, indeed. You live for one-thousand years in my skin, and try to be sane." There was more bite in her voice this time, and the violets of her eyes taking a different form of atmosphere as the formal spheres narrowed into slits. She's not entertained anymore.

"You are either ill-informed, ignorant, or have no salvation for your life – to come to me assuming I know who your father is, and expect me to immediately agree with your thoughts and choose a side in a war I have no part of. To threaten me is a challenge, and you are a fool if you think I will surrender... Has anyone ever taught you not to pick a fight with someone who doesn't fear death, nor those who seek it..." The air became heavy about her, enough to distort a fine line about her silhouette. It was enough of a shift in atmosphere and pressure that it silenced the wildlife. In any given circumstance a human has experienced her wrath to this extent, it made their sympathetic nervous systems trigger and become haywire. That a foreboding certain death was imminent, even if all she did is stand idle. In an unyielding stare.

"If you want to interrupt the cycle of life and death, then go beyond the Earth's atmosphere and cease those of planets born and dying, cease the birth of stars and dissipate their collapsing super novae..." Hands flex, curling and uncurling, again and again, to dissipate the want to tear him apart. "Clearly, if you loathe your eternity so much, then why would you curse someone else with it thinking they wouldn't feel the same? Do you want them to no longer know change? Make life nothing more than a lack of purpose? To live is to survive for a species that only understands this on a fundamental level, and do you think taking that away will keep them sane? You would help no one in your cause by going about things in such a manner..."

"And for what? Because you hate your father? You're going to elicit an unending, unyielding torture on everyone because you can't find a means to cope with yourself?"

Why don't you do what I did, and kill the fucker instead.

[penajavier]

though you are no god -  Frankie Morales x f!reader

This idea had been brewing for a while and hanging out in my drafts for a longer while, but I’ve finally found the inspiration to clean it up and share it! I am clearly a beginner at this and feedback/critique is always welcome. 

Title: though you are no god (credit)

Pairing: Francisco Morales x f!reader. One use of the word “girl”.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.3k

Content/warnings: brief mentions of nightmares and trauma recovery, angst, smut, still somehow the sappiest shit I’ve ever written. frankie likes to be praised. strictly 18+

ao3

••••••••

The first time you get to witness Francisco Morales fall to his knees in front of you, you almost don't remember it happening.  

His mouth presses hot and wet and urgent against your skin where he is bunching up your shirt to expose it. You are nearly as drunk as him, blindly pulling it off and throwing it somewhere behind him. The wall behind you is cool but does absolutely fuck-all to clear your head because oh god his hands are big and warm and his tongue is incessant and oh god this is Frankie, your goofy, kind, awkward, hot as fuck friend-of-a-friend. He pulls you forward a fraction just to tug on your pants and underwear, letting them gather around your feet without giving you the leg room to step out of them. He lifts your left leg over his shoulder with ease, and then his hands are bracing him against you and his tongue is working as if it has a mind of its own, circling your clit and sliding up your lips and you don't remember his fingers being that thick but somehow they are and you are close to going insane. 

Maybe tomorrow you'll wonder how you ended up here, in a hallway in his apartment where he barely bothered to turn the lights on before pressing himself into you, effectively shutting off any sane connection you might have still retained to the world after however-many drinks you two had got in you. The night was supposed to be about Santi, you vaguely recall, but right now you honest to god cannot even remember what promotion he got that you were supposed to be celebrating. You might have made a mental note to apologize to him for leaving his party early, but Frankie adds another finger to your wet cunt and moans like it's pleasuring him more than you, and it's a real effort not to kick him in the chest or collapse on him then and there.  

The fucker laughs as if he knows exactly what he's doing to you, and somehow increases his efforts to a degree you hadn't thought possible. It doesn't take much after that for you to feel that knot tightening in your belly, the electricity of it making your limbs shake. Only when he’s satisfied making you cum thoroughly on his tongue and his hand does he stand up, and for the first time since you got here, he speaks. "Hi," he says, the loopiest grin on his face, before leaning forward to kiss you without waiting for you to answer.  

Your last remaining brain cell thinks to itself, this is going to be one hell of a night. 

•••• 

The second time Frankie Morales falls to his knees in front of you, you can barely bring yourself to look at him. 

It's been weeks (months?) since he practically fell off the grid, following your childhood best friend and designated bad-idea-haver Santiago Garcia into the guts of South America. You had reached the point where a part of you was bracing itself for the worst kind of news, of never getting to see your boys again or hell, not even knowing what the fuck happened to them down there. The rest of you was still holding on to your anger in a misplaced effort to stay hopeful, refusing to let you feel anything other than the need to wring their necks as soon as one of them walked back in the door. And that was it, the majority of your days spent getting on edge every time your phone rang or you felt you saw a familiar set of messy curls pass you by on the street, until you walked home one day to find him standing outside your door, hand poised to knock but hesitant. 

"What the fuck?" the words escape you before you can help it, and he nearly jumps out of his skin. When he turns to look at you coming up behind him, you almost stop in shock at how absolutely shit he looks. "What the fuck?" you say again, seeming to have lost all your vocabulary at the sight of this stupid infuriating beautiful man finally standing in front of you in one piece, messy curls and all.  

An eternity passes with the two of you simply staring at each other, your grocery bags forgotten in your hands and his fingers twitching in an effort to keep them to himself. The smell of fresh bread wafting from your grocery bag does little to alleviate any tension, and the silence is almost painful. You want to do something, say something of all the rage and hurt you've nursed in you at being left alone. How dare you, you want to bark at him, want to hold him by the collar and smack him or kiss his face raw. 

You must take too long in your own head because he carefully extends a hand toward you, but you are so over-stimulated at the mere sight of him that you flinch.  

That's what breaks him, you realize later when the storms have passed and the proverbial rivers have calmed. Not the pain and loss and grief of the mission - things he'll whisper into your chest when you let him - and not the physical battering he must have taken through it all. What breaks him is you flinching away from him, as if you'd forgotten who he was. It’s only me, it's your Frankie, he wants to scream; wants to gather you in his arms and breathe into your ribs. But all he can do is fall to the ground and plead with his eyes.

I'm sorry, mi alma he seems to be saying, and the sight of this glorious man breaking down in front of your doorstep makes you ache in the depths of your bones. You rush forward, all your anger evaporating away from you in the instant it takes to wrap your arms around him and let him rest his head on your stomach. The position is awkward at best. His touch feels almost alien and his hair doesn't smell like you're used to, but you let him cry, let him ruin the clothes you hadn’t given much thought to anyway, and it doesn't occur to either of you that the shirt is one of his that he'd left at your place. 

You choke back the ocean rising in your throat, not knowing how to navigate everything you're feeling at the same time. Will we ever be okay? you wonder, your entire body feeling numb as he holds you just the tiniest bit more tightly.  

You don't know then if you'll ever forgive him, and he doesn't know if he'll ever be the same man again, but right there in that moment none of it matters. What matters is that he is here, and you are holding him like you'd wished and prayed for in all those lonely nights. Maybe you'll never be okay like you used to be, but you have him for now, and you're too exhausted to think beyond that. 

•••• 

The third time, it's fucking magical. 

You and your Frankie have finally settled into a somewhat stable routine. After he left you with the promise to get his shit together, he made good on his word. It seemed as if the mission that must not be named put things into perspective for him - and for you, for that matter - and the two of you decided to give up on the delicate dance you kept orchestrating around each other. You had realized that you needed him much more than you could ever resent him for leaving, and he had realized he never wanted to feel the paralysing fear of thinking he'd never make it back to you again. You two had decided to sit down like adults and talk about it, and Frankie’s regular visits to his therapist had certainly helped. 

Now, in the early morning light in your shared bedroom, he looks the very picture of calm. The birds chirp softly outside the window, blending in with the music of the traffic that you two have begrudgingly come to love. The nightmares haven't left him completely, but they're less frequent and far less incapacitating for him. You feel a rush of pride for how far he's come, how much effort he put into building himself back up piece by piece after being shattered to his bare bones. You’ve seen him curl into you out of fear and into himself during the moments of self loathing when he feels he doesn't deserve your kindness, but now he sleeps with his head tilted slightly upward, exposing the beautiful planes of his neck to you. He is beautiful, you've known it for as long as you've known him, but something about the soft sunlight turning his curls golden and the way you can tell he's truly at peace in this moment, brings tears to your eyes and makes your throat clench. 

You lean up on your elbow and touch his face. His skin is soft, and he smells faintly of your body wash. Thief, you think fondly, brushing his unruly hair away from his forehead. he had stopped cutting it as frequently as he used to because he noticed you liked running your hands through it, and you realize with a jolt that that had been years ago, long before you two had any conversation about the future, even before he had his world turned upside down in the depths of an unnamed jungle. That is when you realize that Francisco Morales told you he loved you long before you had the sense to understand it, and this time you do cry. 

He stirs in his sleep. You briefly worry that you woke him, but he simply turns his head and nuzzles into the crook of your neck, breathing deeply at your shoulder before falling back asleep. The feeling of his soft breaths against your skin makes you smile, and you feel yourself falling more in love with every one of them. 

He wakes you up hours later with gentle kisses and the promise of pancakes, making you giggle with the way his moustache tickles your chin. When you find him in the kitchen later he seems more chipper than usual, smelling like a bakery and humming softly while setting the table for two. He greets you with a sweet kiss and pulls out your chair for you before sitting down in his own. 

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” you ask playfully, and he smiles wide behind his glasses that you’d finally convinced him he needed. Beautiful man, you can't help but think. 

"Just wanted to do something nice for my girl," he answers with his mouth full and you flick a berry at him, which he expertly catches. "Oh so that's how it's gonna be," he puts down his fork and you start to run away, but he is far too quick. He catches you by your waist and pulls you into his chest, licking your cheek obscenely.  

"Frankie, you dog!" you giggle, still fighting his grip.  

"Dogs are cute," he shrugs, seemingly unfazed against you using all your force. He is gentle as anything with you, but he sure likes to show off his strength every once in a while. He lifts you effortlessly off the floor and sets you on the counter. "You think I'm cute?" he wiggles his eyebrows. 

You almost playfully call him insufferable on autopilot, the way you've always bantered since you've known him. But you're aware now how he relies on verbal affirmations, and you've been making a conscious effort of supplying them whenever you can. So instead you hold his face in your palms and tell him that you think he's the most wonderful man in the world, and that you love him more than anything.  

"Baby," he drops his head to your shoulder and sighs. You do this to him, making his heart swell and threaten to burst out of his ribs. He doesn't have the words, doesn't know how to tell you he feels like the luckiest man in the world every morning when he wakes up next to you, every time he hears your voice or feels your palm in his. He doesn't know how to tell you you've been his anchor and his best friend, or how he can't believe he gets to have this kind of domestic bliss at all. "Baby," he repeats, "I love you." 

You try to deepen the kiss he initiates, but he pulls back and tells you he has plans for the day, telling you to get dressed for something outdoors. You feel a rush of happiness at the thought of him feeling more and more like himself with every day that passes, picking up old habits and finding joy in them. You kiss his cheek and run off to get dressed, beyond excited to see what he had planned. 

The ride to the field is longer than you expected. Frankie has turned the radio on and it plays softly in the background as you two talk occasionally. It’s a calm morning, with the perfect weather that's neither too cold nor too warm. He lifts your hand to his lips and kisses it softly once he's parked, and then he hops out and opens your door for you. 

"Such a gentleman," you tease. 

"Yeah," is all he says before he's kissing you breathless against the truck. It takes you by surprise, but it's far from unwelcome. 

Your hands come to rest on his shoulders, and you can tell it takes a special amount of effort for him to pull away from you, his hands still holding you close as he pulls on yours and leads you deeper into the field. The grass is high enough to tickle your ankles, and the whisper of it against your skin feels wonderful. He slows down, the pace leisurely enough for you to appreciate the wildflowers growing around you. He’s careful not to step on any, and you're struck once again by the multitudes that exist within this one man. The same man who has confessed to sins you could never have thought him capable of, now so careful with a thing as gentle as a dandelion. You think about his hand that is so gentle in yours, and the memory of it firmly wrapping around your throat as he does unspeakable things to you makes you blush, and you will yourself to come back to the present.  

Frankie has led you to a tree, and you notice a tree house resting on the sturdier branches. It’s new, you realize, and look at him quizzically. 

"Remember how I was supposed to pick up new hobbies?" he says sheepishly, gently leading you around to the other side where you see wooden footrests leading up. He urges you to climb up, and you are still so surprised that you can only obey. 

"I thought you'd like this," he's saying. "It can be our secret place, we come here whenever we want. Not that we don't already have a home and privacy but I thought this could be nice to have. Like a little getaway close to home." He's rambling now, as you notice all the fine details he has paid attention to in the construction of it. 

"Honey? Do you like it?" he asks when you've been too quiet. 

"Do I like it?" you ask incredulously. "Francisco Morales, this is amazing!" 

He immediately breaks into a wide grin, and you can see that he is proud of himself. He looks almost like an eager child, and you love the way his eyes shine in that moment. 

"There's one more thing," he leads you to a small opening in the wall that serves as a window. You can see the clear sky and the field stretching out under you, and the cool breeze feels like a gentle caress. It's a beautiful view, and you lose yourself in the sights and smells for a moment. 

"So am I looking at something specific?" you ask, wondering what it was he wanted to show you.  

He doesn't answer, though, and you turn around to repeat the question. The sight that meets you nearly knocks you off your feet, and you cover your gasp with your hand. 

Frankie is on one knee, hat resting by his feet and hand extended, holding the most gorgeous ring you have ever laid eyes on. You might be biased, but you couldn't care less. 

"Darling, I-" he starts, but you don't have the self control that he apparently does, and you throw your arms around him. 

He wraps tightly around you, only letting you have enough room to look up and kiss him. And god do you kiss him. You kiss him like he has never been kissed before, like you could pour every ounce of affection you have for him into that one moment, needing him as close to you as possible. 

You don't realise you're crying until he kisses the tears off your cheeks, and then he lifts your hand and slides the ring on. 

•••• 

The fourth time comes that night, after you've spent your day in the field, holding on to each other and bursting with mutual joy. 

He sits you down on the bed, and kneels in front of you, kissing your shoulders gently. "Hey, Mrs. Morales," he smiles as he says it, even as he's biting the soft skin at your clavicle. 

You laugh, telling him that’s not how engagement rings work. He only grins against your skin and bites harder. 

You scratch his head and he purrs, lifting his head briefly to give you a sweet kiss before he's pushing you to lie down. Let me take care of you, honey, he whispers. Then his hands are on your waist and his mouth is on your chest, making you writhe in place. He kisses and sucks and bites, making sure to give every part of you equal attention. So beautiful, he's talking almost to himself as he leaves a wet trail of kisses down to your tummy.  

His hands meanwhile touch and grab and smooth over any part they can reach, moving as if of their own volition. He knows your body so well that he can map it with his eyes closed, can recognize it with his last breaths. He reaches your cunt and pulls you closer, closer, inhaling deeply and groaning like he's hardly staying in control. 

With the same patience he had displayed earlier in the day he teases you mercilessly, kissing around where you need him most. You pull on his hair and he tuts and bites your thigh. What did I say, baby - a flick of his tongue against you - let me take care of you. You whine petulantly, and he tells you to be a good girl for him. He even says please, the asshole. 

The first lick against your clit comes at the same time as his finger pushes into you, and it takes everything you have not to lift off the bed. So wet for me, he moans against you, the vibration making your pleasure amplify. You fist the sheets around you, telling him how fucking good he's making you feel, how good he always makes you feel. The praise fuels him on and he pushes two more fingers into you at the same time. 

You are so full and so stimulated with his tongue incessant against your clit, and he has no plans of letting up. You feel your orgasm hit you quick and hard, and you can barely warn him before you're gushing, soaking his face and trying to pull away from the overstimulation. 

He looks up at you, grinning like the Cheshire cat. He licks you clean until you're begging him to stop, and then he patiently kisses his way back up your body. 

"That was... that was amazing," you're out of breath as you say it, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him in to taste yourself. 

"Oh honey," he coos. "I've barely started." 

•••

fin.

Tagging some lovely mutuals whom I love and who are amazing writers: @disgruntledspacedad @pedropascaldice @frannyzooey. Please let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in the future (if there is a future) ❤️

[ikeromantic]

Trust

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfiction, approx. 2200 words. This scene takes place toward the end of Ch. 13 of the Romantic Route. SPOILERS!

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Base Villains

Mitsuhide felt a surge of incoherent rage. His beloved little mouse stood beside the shogun, her arm in his iron-grip. Her face was bruised - and likely more of her that he couldn’t see. Her clothes were torn and bloody. If Ashikaga thought this would bring him mercy, he was badly mistaken.

She turned her eyes from the shogun to look at Mitsuhide. There was a world of hurt in that gaze, but strength too. Despite all she’d suffered, she was angry and determined. There was even a flare of joy in her at seeing him.

“You base villains,” Ashikaga shrieked. He waved the guards to attack, but the daimyo’s men didn’t move.

Motonari ignored the shogun completely. He gave the chatelaine a saucy grin. “Hey! Yer lookin’ pretty good fer a prisoner, m’lady!” He even dipped in a slight bow to her, though the effect was somewhat lacking given the blood spatter and gore on him.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, my love.” Mitsuhide took a step toward her.

She smiled, though the expression clearly caused her pain. “I knew you’d come.”

“I hoped you would say that, which is why I endeavored to come just as you needed me.” Mitsuhide couldn’t help the genuine affection that colored his voice when he spoke to her. He was still angry - still planning to tear the shogun’s body into pieces - but that rage burned right beside the fires of his love. One did not contradict the other. He knew he didn’t need to gentle himself for her. “I will have you free and in my arms in a moment.”

“Guards!” Ashikaga shrieked, his voice cutting through the nearby sounds of battle. He was not a man that liked being ignored.

The door of the side room burst open, spilling the shogun’s personal guards into the room. Where the daimyo’s men would not obey, these men were eager to do as ordered. There were only four of them, and at least one looked as if he was already half-dead.

“I expected more from you, Yoshiaki. It seems your popularity has taken a plunge.” Mitsuhide lifted his sword, ready to fight.

Motonari laughed. “Aww, if I’da known you were so hard-up fer help, I might not a’ betrayed ya so quick.”

The shogun’s face flushed crimson and he shook with anger. “You - you fools think to mock me? Know your position!” He jerked the chatelaine in front of him. “Besides, I have a hostage. You are mad to go against me!”

“I am quite sane, I assure you,” Mitsuhide’s eyes narrowed. The shogun clearly wasn’t. Mitsuhide was willing to kill a man for making his little one cry. For this . . . death was too easy. “Yoshiaki, this world has moved on. It has no more need for men like you. Because you fail to grasp this, I have come to assist you off the stage myself.”

The shogun’s eyes were wide, though with fear or anger, it was impossible to say. “Insolence! Make your jokes while you have breath for them.” Then he smiled and pulled a dagger from his belt. He pressed the sharp edge to the chatelaine’s throat.

She gasped and froze.

Behind them, one of the servants - no, Mitsuhide realized - Kyubei! - began to step forward. Mitsuhide gave the barest shake of his head. An attack now would mean death for his little mouse. The right moment would come.

“See they do not approach me,” Ashikaga ordered his men.

The half-dead looking guard bowed to the shogun. “As you command, majesty.” Then he turned his gaze to the intruders. Mitsuhide saw in them the fires of fanaticism, and the darkness of death approaching. This man had no fear, not anymore. He pulled a long sword and held it up. “I sentence you to death, kitsune. It is too light a punishment for turning on the shogun, but it is the best I can mete out.”

Motonari gave an excited shout. “Hell yes! Looks like one o’ yer men has got some backbone!”

Yoshiaki hissed something to the chatelaine and then pulled her to the corner of the room.

“I’ll take the room. You can have the shogun.” Motonari didn’t wait for a reply, just charged forward. He was immediately met by the half-dead fanatic, who despite his wounds, was clearly the best of the remaining fighters. “Let’s have us some fun!”

“This will be no game,” the fanatic’s expression was grim.

They exchanged blows, their blades screeching as they met again and again.

Mitsuhide shook his head. Mouri was mad, but at least that had its usefulness. At least this provided him an opening. He dodged past the remaining guards toward the shogun.

“You rush to your end,” Yoshiaki shouted. He pushed past the doors to a small balcony. It was a bare ledge with no railings. Below, the battle was slowing as men died or surrendered. Their cries were carried up to the tenshu on the cold night air.

The chatelaine went with him, the dagger still on her throat kept her still and compliant.

“If you so much as twitch, I’ll throw you to your death,” the shogun hissed at her.

Mitsuhide sheathed his sword and pulled the matchlock from his back. There wasn’t enough space on that narrow ledge to fight. In this, the tanegashima was a better choice. If his aim held true. He checked the load and primed it to fire. Then he pointed it at the shogun. “Do not move.”

The shogun pressed his knife hard against the chatelaine’s throat, drawing a thin line of blood. “It is you who should be careful of his movements.” He grinned, already feeling he’d won. “Now lower your rifle.”

“You can only kill her once, Yoshiaki.”

“Disarm yourself and kneel, kitsune! Do it, or I will kill her!”

Despite his words, Mitsuhide was terrified. Seeing the blood on her neck only drove home the very real possibility that she would die here, now. He would still finish his mission. The shogun would die. But his little one . . . The thought froze his limbs and stopped his heart. He told himself that Ashikaga would kill her anyway, even if he dropped the gun and knelt. Yet . . . if there was a chance that he would let her go . . .

Seeing Mitsuhide’s conflict, Yoshiaki’s smile widened. “Call off your troops and I will let the girl live. Do it, and I may even forgive you for turning against me.”

Mitsuhide didn’t move.

“Now, or must I say it louder?!”

He ignored the shogun and studied the face of his beloved little one. She saw the decision he had to make. And she understood. Without moving, she gifted him her trust. His little mouse knew the risk he was about to take and accepted it, as he must. Her bravery made his chest hurt and his throat close. But he could only honor it now by taking action.

As Mitsuhide took aim, the chatelaine lifted her hands and in a practiced motion, grabbed the shogun’s knife arm. “Now,” she shouted. She had only seconds that she could hold Ashikaga at bay.

Mitsuhide sent a prayer to whatever gods or devils may be listening, and he pulled the trigger.

The moment stretched. He saw the powder light, heard the explosion of the bullet as it left the barrel. Watched Ashikaga’s ribs buckle under the impact, and his blood stained the cloth around the wound.

“What?” The shogun looked down at himself in confusion. His grip on the knife loosened. The blade fell to the ground.

The messenger stopped fighting Motonari in the room behind them and flung himself toward Mitsuhide. There was death in his eyes. He knew he couldn’t survive this attack, but he was determined to avenge the shogun as his last living act.

Kyubei lunged forward, putting himself between Mitsuhide and the nearly dead warrior. His sword took the man in his gut, stopping him before he could so much as breathe on Akechi. The hate in the messenger’s eyes burned to emptiness as his life-blood spilled. Kyubei watched impassively until he was sure the man was really dead.

“Nice kill,” Motonari remarked. “Who’re you?”

“No one.” Kyubei gave a half smile and pulled his sword free.

Mitsuhide spared a moment to clap him on the shoulder. Their eyes met. There was much to discuss, of course, but it could wait. The shogun was dead, the chatelaine was alright, and there were yet plans to put in motion.

“Mouri, go make sure Kennyo isn’t overwhelmed. There is still fighting on the grounds below us. Everything must be calm before the shogun arrives.”

“Yer losin’ yer mind, kitsune. The shogun’s right there.” Mouri’s eyes narrowed as Yoshiaki staggered to the edge of the narrow ledge. His legs shook. His chest spasmed as he gasped for air. And then, Yoshiaki Ashikaga fell.

Mitsuhide closed the distance between him and his little mouse. He pulled her tight against him. “You are alright.”

“I know.” She snuggled closer.

“Guess I’ll leave ya two lovebirds and go see to Kennyo,” Motonari said gruffly. “Ya did good princess.”

She didn’t look up to watch him go, though Mitsuhide’s eyes followed the pirate until he was gone from sight. Then his attention was back on his little one. Her deep, shaking breaths slowed and steadied. “I hope one day, awful things like this don’t have to happen anymore.”

“As do I.” He stroked her back gently. He had wanted to insulate her from this. To protect her. But his little mouse was strong enough to see death and recover from it. She’d proven herself yet again to be his match. Here she was, injured and in shock, yet she still held strength. Though he hadn’t believed he could love her more, he felt a surge of affection for this strange, sweet woman.

A dry cough from the room behind them eventually broke their moment of peace. Kyubei, still dressed as one of the daimyo’s servants, stood beside . . . Ashikaga Yoshiaki. Or, his replacement.

“Sorry to interrupt. I was just wondering when you’d clear this place out. My room is a mess!” The shogun wrinkled his nose in distaste.

Kyubei nudged him. “The shogun would never apologize.”

“Ah, right. Interrupting you was an annoyance. How dare you embrace and not regard my entrance with the appropriate obeisance?” The shogun smiled.

Mitsuhide smiled back. “I see. My apologies to you then. Shall I kneel?”

The chatelaine looked down at the ground below for a moment as if to check that Ashikaga’s body was still there. Then she looked back up at his double. “You - who? No wait! You’re the scribe! We met you in Kyoto at the shogun’s estate.”

“Riku, at your service, princess.” The shogun bowed. “Ashikaga kept my service while he was in hiding here, and eventually brought me out to scribe for him. Just as Akechi suspected he would.”

“And you made contact with my spy as instructed, I see,” Mitsuhide smiled.

“I did. He told me your idea and, at first I wasn’t interested but -”

“I am very persuasive,” Kyubei grinned.

Riku, now the shogun’s double, nodded. “And the daimyo agreed to go along with it, provided his family was spared. So here we are.” He looked a little nervous.

“You will make an excellent shogun in exile,” Mitsuhide reassured him. “All you need do is enjoy the remaining wealth of the Ashikaga clan and stay out of Oda’s way.”

“I will,” Riku’s expression was determined, if a little pale. “It’s more than I ever could have hoped for as a mere scribe.”

Mitsuhide nodded. “I will leave you in Kyubei’s care for now. He will alert me if you need support.” His eyes fell to his little mouse. “I have more important tasks this day.”

He spared not a heartbeat more before lifting her into his arms. It felt like they’d been apart forever, though it was really only a few days. Mitsuhide carried her past the few lingering fights, and into one of the daimyo’s guest rooms. It was quieter here, though the smell of gunpowder and blood still hung on the air.

“I would take you to Kyoto, but first . . .” he brushed a finger along the edge of her jaw. Her cheek was swollen and bruised. “We must see to your injuries. What happened?”

She told him about her capture as he gently rubbed balm into her wounds. Mitsuhide could tell it stung - both the ointment and relating her capture. But he was proud of her for trying to outsmart Ashikaga’s man, and for fighting back.

“I am sorry I wasn’t there to protect you,” he said softly, and kissed her forehead.

She put her hand to his cheek and shook her head. “You can’t always be right beside me. I don’t expect you to be. I did my best to keep myself safe and . . . I knew if I couldn’t, that you would rescue me. And you did.”

Mitsuhide felt a sharp warmth in his eyes and realized he might cry. Her trust in him . . . he simply didn’t have words for the way it made him feel. “I love you, little one.”

“And I love you.”

Next: Tears of Joy

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

Here is mine buddy! #54 and 55 for Pope!

A/N: Always got a little smutty Santi in my heart for you. :) Thanks for reading, reblogging, commenting, and liking. 

Pairing: Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x F! Reader 

Warnings: 18 + ONLY NSFW (Language, fighting, cockwarming, oral F!, p in v unprotected sex)

My Masterlist 

The Fight 

You loved Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia. He was passionate, loyal, and utterly devoted to you. But it was becoming more and more apparent lately that you took a back seat to his work. His dream of cleaning up his mother’s home country of Colombia had taken the front seat of his time. When you agreed to follow him to South America, you had romanticized ideas of traveling together in his off days and seeing the beautiful country. Wandering markets on weekends, drinking coffee together on the small balcony overlooking the city. You sigh and flip through the magazine again for the tenth time, looking over to the closed door to the home office. 

In response to your begging to spend time with him, he had created a space at home for him to work. But, the door always remained closed. His fingers are racing against the keys and the Bluetooth attached to his ear, speaking in rapid-fire Spanish. You shut the magazine and go into the kitchen, knowing that it’s getting close to dinner time. Pulling out the ingredients you need to make spaghetti and salad. You flick on the stereo and sway along to Selena as she serenades through the speakers. You are so in the movement you don’t hear the office door open or Santi shouting until you feel his hand on your shoulder. 

You yelp and whip around, “Jesus, Santi, you scared the crap out of me!” you shout and place a hand on your chest. 

He flicks off the stereo and sighs, “Querida, I’m on an important call; I need you to keep it down out here.” He looks annoyed, and you can’t help but nod along. 

“Yeah, sure, I’ll just turn it down.” 

He walks away without even a kiss and goes back towards the office, “Keep it off,” he tosses over his shoulder and slams the door. 

You can take a lot of shit, but you’ve had enough. You turn off the stove, put away all the cold things, and stomp over to the bedroom. Flinging the door open, you grab your suitcase from under the bed and start pouring stuff into it. Huffing and cursing as you go. You are making such a fuss that the door to the office opens, and you hear his boots come down the hall and the door push open. “What the he-” he stops seeing you pack. “Querida? What are you doing?” 

“I didn’t come all the way the fuck down here to be ignored, Santiago. I know what you are doing is important, but if I can’t even listen to music while I make YOU dinner, then what the hell am I doing here?! I’m in the way, and you’ve made that abundantly clear with that fucking office door constantly slamming in my face!” You let out a frustrated scream as you move to the closet and rip your clothes off the hangars. 

“But...but I put in the home office for you? So I could spend more time with you!” 

“Santiago, since you put in that office, I see you even less than I did before! Do you realize you’ve been home all day today, and the only time I’ve seen you is when I brought you a plate for lunch and then again when you yelled at me about the music!” 

He doesn’t say anything, and you let out a humorless laugh, continuing to stuff the bag full. “Stop,” his voice is so quiet you barely hear it, “Stop, stop, stop!” he shouts and grabs your hand, stilling you. “You can’t leave me.” 

“What’s the fucking point of me staying Santiago? You don’t need me.” You hate how defeated you sound, but it’s been building for months. 

“I do! I do need you!” he begs, pulling you close to his chest. “I know I’ve been a shit boyfriend the last couple of months, but I wouldn’t survive here without you. You keep me sane, fed, loved. I would wither away without you.” 

You mumble against his chest, “then why doesn’t your mother come and stay with you if that’s all you need.” His chest shakes with his chuckle, and you slowly wrap your arms around him as the spice of his cologne fills your senses, calming you down. 

“I don’t want to make love to my mother, Querida.”

You scoff and pull away, looking into his expressive brown eyes, “Or me, it seems. It’s been weeks, Santi.” He frowns and looks toward the clock on the wall. 

“Fuck, I have one last call I need to make,” your heart sinks, and you pull further away, but he keeps his arms firmly around you. “C’mere, you can sit on my lap until I’m done working. That way, I can keep you close and finish for the day. I promise I’ll take the next couple of days off, and we can take a trip down to Cali. I know you’ve wanted to go.” 

You nod and let him lead you back to the home office. He pauses in the front of the plush office chair and looks between you and the chair. “Would you...would you sit on my cock while I work?” Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, and he grins, moving down to unbuckle his jeans and push them down and off. His cock bounces forward and against his stomach, thick and ribbed. Santi always was a commando man. 

You reach for the waistband of your panties and step out of them, thanking the forethought of wearing a sundress today. He sits down, and the leather moans under him; his hands reach out for you and slide up your thigh until he reaches your folds. His head dips below the hem of your dress, and you hear him moan as he licks your clit. His fingers are sliding up and down your slick. “What, what are you doing?” your voice shakes. 

“Making sure you’re ready to take my cock,” he sucks on your clit, and you reach for his shoulders and dig your hands into his leather jacket. He flicks his tongue against you in broad strokes, his fingers slowly edging inside you. “I’ve been neglecting you,” he’s husky as he pulls his head out and gazes up at you, his fingers moving inside you. “I will never leave you to take care of yourself again; that’s my job.” He withdraws his fingers and brings them up to his lips, sucking them. “Fuck, I love how you taste.” 

His back rests against the chair, and he pats his lap. You turn, and he grabs your wrist turning you back to face him. Your knees bend as you drop down to his lap and line up his cock, impaling yourself down on him slowly. You let out a low moan as he fills you, every ridge hitting you so perfectly. “Take it slow, Querida; it’s been a little while.” He coaxes you with small circles on your clit until your seated on him completely. Your head tucked into the crook of his neck, and your arms curled up against his chest. You sigh and roll your hips, his hands coming down to still you. 

“Querida, if you do that. I won’t get any work done. I need you to stay very still for me, and then when I’m done, I will reward you, okay?” You tremble, thinking of your reward, and nod wordlessly. He returns the Bluetooth to his ear, and you hear the dial ringing loudly before someone picks up on the other hand. He rocks forward to move the chair closer to the desk, and you bite down hard on your lip as he moves inside you. 

His hands come around to the keys, and you listen as his voice comes out deep and stern, clearly annoyed with the person on the receiving end. The keys tap tap, and he’s so warm it’s all so relaxing you feel your eyes begin to droop. 

You woke with a start and shot up, letting out a deep groan. Santiago has a thin sheen of sweat clinging to his forehead, and he is fucking up into you. Your mouth opens, and you brace yourself on his shoulders, bouncing up and down with each thrust. “What? Does that feel good?” he teases and moves a hand beneath your dress and rubs your clit. You tighten around him and kiss him passionately, tangling your tongues together. You clench tightly around him, and he moves harder and faster, the sweat glistening on your forehead. 

“Are you going to cum on my cock Querida?” You nod and feel the blinding heat surge between you, shaking throughout your entire body as you soak him. “Yes!” he moans, kneading your hips and working you through it. A few more thrusts and he is spilling inside you, painting your walls in hot ropes of cum. 

You collapse, shivering against his chest, and he mouths at your neck, his teeth grazing. “Did you like your reward?” he whispers, and you nod, eyes closed tightly. “Good, because that is only the beginning of how much making up I have to do.” You groan and yelp as he pushes himself out of the chair; still inside you, you wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you to the bedroom. And boy, does he make it up to you. 

Taglist: @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @anetteaneta @lunarthoughts @aellynera @lucifer- @houseofthirst @chicken-ona-stick @agirllovespancakes @amberembers @santiagogarcia @jedi-mando @spider-starry @idreamofboobear @aerolanya @josepedropascal @revolution-starter @ghostwiththemostbitch @rebelliouscat

[stupid-stew]

The Blame Game

me when I have an idea and have never written fan fiction before and then accidentally write 3,000 words about it OOPSIES anyways I was like what if Eda got mad at Luz after YBOS and um could not get that out of my head

EDA

Eda was tired

So tired

Too much had happened over the course of the last day, she hadn’t had any time to think, but now she had a moment to herself, thinking was all she could do. All the events of the last 24 hours, heck the last 30 years, they all came back to her at once.

Lilith had cursed her? Her own sister? And then betrayed the emperor for her? First she’d been hurt by Lilith and then saved by her, and now Lilith was living under her roof? They’d barely talked at all in the last several decades, and now Eda was expected to just be ok with it? Just like that? After the screaming match they’d had not even an hour ago, Eda wasn’t sure there would be much talking at all for the next few days, not like she wasn’t used to it. There was too much to unpack with her sister right now, she felt too hurt to give it any more of her attention. And Luz, poor Luz, oh that kid was going to be the death of her-

A quiet whisper of “Hey Eda?” interrupted her spiraling thoughts.

Eda sat up from her nest and saw the focus of her thoughts standing in her doorway, “What’s up kid?”

What was Luz still doing awake? It was too late, was she having issues sleeping too? It wouldn't be surprising, the kid was probably traumatized up the wall.

Luz moved her mouth, but Eda didn’t hear a word she said, still consumed by her own brain

Luz, her kid. Eda supposed that she might as well admit to herself she loved the kid at this point. But what was she thinking, breaking into the emperor’s castle like that? Didn’t she know she could have gotten herself hurt, others hurt. Eda got hurt, Eda got hurt beyond repair, she’d lost her powers. Her powers had been the only thing keeping her alive, keeping her sane. What was she going to do without her magic? She couldn't live without it, she was the most powerful witch on the boiling isles for titan’s sake, but what is a witch without her power? And if Luz hadn’t broken into the castle, regardless of her intentions, maybe Eda could have had a shot at keeping her powers longer, but no, Luz just had to play the hero didn’t she, everyone else be damned huh?

“Get out” Eda said flatly

“And th- what?” Luz said, startled and confused by the sudden interruption

“I said get out, I don’t want to see you right now” she replied sharply

“Eda I don’t understa-”

“Of course you don’t understand, why would you, why would you ever think about anyone else, you didn’t even think about the repercussions of breaking into the castle”

“Eda I promise I didn’t mean for any of this to happen I just wanted to…”

“No.” Eda cut her off abruptly “I know what you wanted, you wanted to play the hero, you wanted to be back in your imaginary fantasy world where nobody gets hurt and you can always save the day, you wanted to win, guess what kiddo, you won. You won and everyone else got to lose.”

“Eda, I don’t understand what you’re trying to say…” Luz trailed off with tears forming behind her eyes

Something in eda snapped.

“I’M SAYING IF IT WEREN’T FOR YOU I MIGHT STILL HAVE MY POWERS, I MIGHT STILL BE MYSELF. IT’S YOUR FAULT LUZ. IF YOU HAD TAKEN EVEN A MOMENT TO THINK BEYOND HAVING TO BE THE ONE TO SAVE ME, THEN YOU WOULDN’T HAVE NEEDED SAVING AND I COULD STILL BE LOOKING FOR A CURE. LUCKY YOU, I NO LONGER HAVE ANY MAGIC TO SAVE MYSELF SO MAYBE YOU CAN STILL BE THE HERO YOU ALWAYS WANTED TO BE AFTER ALL. I. DON’T. WANT. TO. SEE. YOU. RIGHT. NOW.”

There was a stunned silence after those last words, Eda slapped her hand over her mouth, shocked at her own outburst, and Luz doubly as hurt by the words. She didn’t know where that had come from, of course she knew that Luz hadn’t meant for any of this to happen, it wasn’t the kid’s fault Eda was cursed, much less her fault that Eda was a wanted criminal who had gotten herself caught. It was her choice to go save Luz from Lilith, even when the kid was being pressed into spikes she was more worried about the older witch than her own wellbeing.

“Luz-” Eda said, taking her hand away from her mouth to reach out towards the now shaking teen, not sure how to even begin to repair the damage she had just caused.

“No, it’s ok.” Luz cut her off, her voice breaking, “I’ll give you your space, I’m sorry.”

“Kid wait-”

The door shut with a quiet click, once again leaving Eda alone in the silence with her thoughts. She fell back into her nest.

Shit.

LUZ

Luz wasn’t sure what had just happened. She had never heard Eda yell at anyone like that before, well now with the exception of Lilith, and herself.

Was it something Luz had done? She was just telling Eda about how she had fought Belos, maybe if she replayed the events in her head…

*5 minutes earlier*

Luz stood outside the massive door to Eda’s room, not sure whether or not to enter. Eda was under a lot of stress, that had to be taking a toll on her, maybe she should just walk away and come back tomorrow…

No, this can’t wait, Eda needs to know

Luz sighed and reluctantly stepped into the doorway. Eda was laying down in her nest with her eyes closed, was she asleep?

“Hey Eda?” Luz asked in a whisper, not wanting to wake the witch if she was finally resting.

Much to Luz’s surprise, Eda sat up. “What’s up kid?”

Eda’s voice had sounded warm, which was a shock to Luz, she had half expected Eda to be mad at her, titan knew she blamed herself enough for the two of them already, but her voice also sounded empty. Maybe Luz was making a mistake, she should leave Eda alone for a little while longer. No, it was probably better to get it over with.

“Hey I’m sorry to bother you, but I need to tell you something.” Eda didn’t respond, so Luz took that as a sign to keep going. “Ok so you know how you gave me the portal key? When you and King and Lilith were up on the platform, Belos wanted to speak to me alone.” she paused, waiting for some kind of reaction, receiving none. “He wanted the portal, and I gave it to him, don’t worry, I set it on fire… which kind of means that I’m stuck here, and th-”

And then Eda had gotten mad, really mad. Was she mad about the portal? No of course it wasn’t about the portal, it was about Luz. Eda was mad at Luz. Eda hated her, maybe she should just leave, spare Eda the reminder of who made her lose her powers every time she saw Luz’s face. And the worst part is that Eda was right, she had gotten too caught up in trying to save Eda that she forgot that she could have gotten hurt. Maybe all those people back home were right, she was too caught up in her fantasy wor-

“OUCH”

Luz ran into something, more accurately, someone. She had been so caught up in her own thoughts that she hadn’t been looking in front of her and had run right into Lilith.

“Oh my titan, Luz I am so sorry are you ok?” Lilith fussed over her, seeming genuinely worried about Luz

“What do you care.” Luz scoffed, immediately regretting her words when she saw Lilith’s face drop at her words. “I’m sorry, I guess I should be asking if you’re ok as well seeing as I was the one that ran into you”

“Oh, I guess we are both at fault then, seeing as I wasn’t watching my step either, nonetheless I do apologize. What are you doing up so late? Does Edalyn not have a bedtime set for you?”

Luz took mild offense to the fact that Lilith thought of her as such a child, but most of the pain came from the fact that Lilith thought Eda still cared about her enough to make sure she got proper sleep. Instead of admitting that to Lilith, Luz settled to retort with “I was just coming back from her room, what are you even doing in the house? Didn’t eda strictly forbid you from coming in here until she says otherwise?”

Lilith chuckled slightly at that, which caught Luz off guard, but Lilith’s reply quickly caught her thoughts away from that “I suppose you’re right, but I heard screaming and wanted to make sure nobody was hurt, I guess if you were just in her room then you’re both probably fine, perhaps you could tell me what that was all about?”

And then Luz lost it.

LILITH

Lilith wasn’t sure what to do. Luz hated her, had every right to, but as she stood in the dark hallway with the teenager wrapped around her waist and sobbing, let’s just say she was more than a little bit confused. She expected a lot of emotions from Luz, anger, hatred, rage, was screaming an emotion? Maybe it should count as one. But this? This was very very far down on the list.

“Luz? What’s wrong?”

The girl mumbled something in between sobs into her dress, but it was completely inaudible.

Lilith continued to stand there with her arms out and away from Luz for another minute, not wanting to touch the girl and make her uncomfortable, and at an utter loss for how to comfort her. Not even a day ago they had been seated on the floor of a clearing in the human world while Lilith had shamefully explained herself, how had she ended up here?

Slowly, Lilith placed her hands on the younger girl’s shoulders and pushed her away enough to see her face, Lilith was horrified to see the girl had been really sobbing, hard, her face barely visible in the dark somehow still managed to show levels of pain she didn’t think were possible for someone so young.

“Luz, ” Lilith said as clearly as she could while keeping her voice soft “what’s wrong?”

She listened quietly as Luz tried to explain to her the conversation she had just had with Eda. Lilith was shocked. She had never expected Eda to yell like that at Luz, she had barely seen them interact, but she still knew that her sister cared deeply for the human, and had never expected that sort of outburst to happen, especially in Luz’s direction. Lilith knew that Eda didn’t mean it, but did Luz know that? Of course she didn’t. Lilith was used to Eda yelling at her, she took it and understood where she was coming from, but for her to snap at Luz like that? Something had to be wrong.

“Luz, look at me” Lilith looked down at the still crying girl wrapped around her waist, waiting for her to make eye contact before kneeling down on one knee to get eye level with her while still keeping her hands on Luz’s shoulders. “I need you to listen to me, ok?” Luz nodded, wiping her eyes. “Ok, this is absolutely not your fault. None of it. I don’t know why Edalyn has decided to place the blame on you, but she was wrong to do so.” Luz didn’t look convinced. Titan, Lilith thought, this girl must have really taken what Eda had said to heart. “The blame is on me, Edalyn, and Belos. Not. You. I am responsible for Eda’s curse and capturing you, for which I will never stop apologizing. Eda and I are responsible for the battle and any harm that came to you during it. I am responsible for capturing Eda, Belos is responsible for her losing her powers, even I played a part in that. None of that is on you. At all.”

Luz looked at her blankly, Lilith was unsure what to do, she had never been good with words, had she said something wrong?

“Promise?” Luz asked softly

Lilith looked at the girl in front of her, the girl who had put her life on the line for her sister, the girl who had fought the emperor and ultimately won, in all her years in the coven she had never seen Kikimora look that terrified, and Belos was a scary man, this kid was so strong, and here she was, asking the woman who had put her life in danger out of spite, for a promise.

Lilith raised her hand and drew a dim blue circle in the air, grabbed Luz’s wrist, and pulled her hand through it. “I promise none of this was your fault, and I will do everything in my power to make sure any part of it that was mine gets remedied in full.”

Their hands glowed faintly for a moment before the light went out.

“So,” Lilith began, “what do you say we get started on that promise?”

Luz, still holding onto Lilith’s hand, nodded and allowed the witch to walk her down the hallway, back to the doors where this had all begun.

EDA

Shit Shit Shit

Eda had spent the last half hour trying to think of any way to make up with Luz, she had never meant to say any of that at all, she didn’t blame Luz, not at all, she blamed herself, and Lilith, and Belos, but mostly herself

For the second time that night, Eda found her thoughts interrupted by someone in her doorframe, this time though there was no word of warning, just a silhouette.

“Lilith?” Eda asked, squinting to try and see her mystery visiter, splitting the curse must have split her night vision as well, add that to the list of awful things that had happened

“Yes.”

It was a simple reply, but enough to make Eda jump out of her nest, “What the hell Lily, I thought I told you so stay out of here, what if Luz saw you?”

“Actually…” Lilith started before tugging lightly on something out of the door frame, bringing luz out from behind the wall.

She’s been crying was all Eda thought.

“Lily I swear to titan if she has even a scratch on her-” Eda began to threaten, but then she remembered. “Oh”

“Yeah, I ran into her in the hall,” her sister replied, “can we come in? I think you have some explaining to do”

Eda nodded sadly, seeing Luz this upset, knowing that she was the one who had caused this, it was almost too much, and when Eda got upset, she had a tendency to run her mouth, so she just started talking as soon as Luz had gotten sat down and Lilith had left the room.

“Look kid, I’m sorry. I know that doesn't even begin to make up for what I said, but I mean it. None of this is your fault, I mean you could have been a little more careful, but the blame isn’t yours. I was having a rough time, which isn’t an excuse for the things I said, but I got mad and snapped at you. I wasn’t even mad at you, I was mad at myself, and I took it out on you and that was wrong of me. I was upset about the loss of my magic, it meant a lot to me, but you need to know that it’s not your fault it’s gone. I’m sorry. I was playing the blame game and you’re the one who lost, even though you weren’t the one playing. You didn’t deserve me yelling at you like that and I am so so so-”

“It’s ok.” Luz cut her off.

“-rry. What?”

“It’s ok Eda. I get it. I know you were mad, and I wish you hadn’t said those things, but I know it wasn’t my fault.” Luz said, looking the older witch right in the eyes.

Eda sighed a heavy sigh, “Good.” They looked at each other for a moment before Eda remembered. “What were you in the doorway for?”

“I had something to tell you, but I think it can wait until morning.”

“Luz, I think it is morning” Eda chuckled, looking out the window to see the sun on the horizon.

“Then it can wait until the afternoon!” the teenager exclaimed back.

Luz got up to leave, but Eda grabbed her by the wrist “and just where do you think you’re going?”

“Back to my room? Eda I have to sleep.”

Eda yanked her wrist, pulling her back into the nest “what a coincidence, I have to sleep too! Maybe we could have an apology nest party?”

Luz laughed, slightly taken aback by Eda’s sudden affection, but relieved to see that she was actually sorry and didn’t mean any harm. “Fine by me.”

“Love you, kiddo.”

“I love you too, Eda.”

They lay in silence for a moment before Eda startled Luz by yelling “LOVE YOU LILY!”

There is a sudden scrambling outside of the door and the sound of a witch’s footsteps could be heard retreating back down the stairs.

“How did you know she was still listening?” Luz asked between giggles

“She never was a quiet walker, it would have been hard for me to miss her walking away”

That was the first good sleep Eda had in years, no thoughts eating away at her, no nightmares, no curse dreams, just her and her kid.

read @novelist-becca’s alternate ending!!!!

[whoa-its-dani]

I think I’m doomed to only write one chapter of one fanfic every year, oftentimes in the summer, and then that’s it. It just dies. All of these ideas and plans just... fucked.

When I was a kid/tween, I used to write a lot. Didn’t have internet access so none of it ended up online. Most of it was handwritten. I’d write entire stories in days. It was no problem, just came as easy as rain from a cloud.

I peaked at age 12.

My great-grandmother, the one we lost in the fall of last year, always loved writing. She wanted to be a writer and seemed to be the only person in my family who really supported me writing. Even in her old age, when she could barely remember my name, she knew I was a writer. 

I know I owe nothing to nobody, I get that. But I always kinda hoped to make it as a writer for her. Or at least, write something. But I guess I grew out of it. I know my failing health had/has a lot to do with it, and I’m not trying to like blame myself for having the audacity to be disabled / hindered, but it does hurt. Add onto that the fact that I’m currently unmedicated, untreated, and I suspect even undiagnosed (with some specific things), and you get a nasty concoction.

I can’t do anything, I know I can’t do anything, and it hurts. I try to do things, knowing I can’t, and then get upset when I can’t do anything, even though I know I can’t do anything. Maybe I’m being a bit hyperbolic, but I feel like this is a #Relatable thing with people who have mental issues. You want to do something so badly, but you can’t. You call yourself lazy, you call yourself defeatist, you belittle yourself. And maybe I am lazy and defeatist to some degree, but that doesn’t erase what I’m dealing with.

I don’t know what I’m saying here but like I’m Big Sad™ right now and I hate it. I thought about looking at some of my old writing but most - if not all - of it was destroyed. That sounds a little dramatic but like it was natural damage, from mice and exposure and shit. Some of it was stolen (along with old art) because of what I stored them in, so it’s likely that a lot of it was trashed.

Even when I did write stuff on the computer using notepad, it’s not great. Most of it is My Immortal level cisheterocope shit. Escapist fantasies where my real parents were dead, I had a new family, a clean house, and friends and love interests. I think that’s why I’m so pro-fic and pro-ship. I know what it’s like to only have words on a screen keeping you sane.

I dunno what this post is. I’m tired, in pain, and coming off of caffeine (just had more of it so woo that’s gonna be fun) and I just want to make something. I think I’m trying to use it as I did when I was a kid, an escape. I used to think that my life was awful, and it was, honestly, but things have only gotten worse. I’d give anything to be able to write as quickly and efficiently as I used to. I resent myself for not continuing to write, because I’ve almost lost the skill completely, and I feel largely unhappy with anything I create.

It’s the reason why I’m trying my hand at fanfic. I don’t have to create much, just use the pieces someone else has made. It’s lazy but I just do not have the juice to make a whole new original story. And I kinda hate that. Makes me feel like a cringe thief. Of course, I would never judge anyone else for doing this, but that’s because they’re someone else, and I’m me, so clearly I’m held to different standards.

Why couldn’t I’ve been a snail

[kairos-polaris]

Revelations and not so secret crushes

A little gift for @bunathebunny . Also @miraculousmelodies , like I promised

People make mistakes all the time. And it's okay! Failure is a part of progress and if you never fail, then you don't do anything at all.

One may argue that mistaking potions for milk and eating someone's special macaroons wasn't this type of mistake. "He should have been more careful," they say. But did you try to make coffee in a kitchen littered with potions while also being sleep deprived? No? Thought so.

The last paragraph was specifically written for Dick's younger brothers, Jason Todd and Tim Drake. Those two decided that it was a great idea to make fun of their dearest elder brother and his very unfortunate mistake. And even if Tim was perfectly aware of struggles that came with making coffee while being sleep deprived, he didn't have to worry that white liquid may be a potion, not milk.

But in the end Dick was very grateful for that small mistake. It has resolved several conflicts and had very unpredictable consequences.

***

It was morning. Just a normal winter morning. You know, when it's too dark and far too cold and you don't want to leave your bed? That was a morning like that.

Normal men don't get up at six a.m but Richard "Dick" Grayson wasn't one. And it's good, because his family was neither normal nor sane.

"Being normal is boring," his girlfriend, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, would say. If it were someone else, Dick would wholeheartedly agree with them while hanging upside down from the chandelier in the manor.

But because it was Marinette, Dick had to immediately assume she hasn't been sleeping or eating healthy for the last 48 hours. Usually, he was wrong, but he did enjoy taking care of her.

Another proof that shows how much Dick Grayson isn't a normal or sane man is vigilantism. You see, normal people deal with trauma by talking about it with a therapist or their friends. And do you know what did Dick do? He donned his family's colour and decided to beat up criminals. What a great idea! And Bruce Wayne allowed it because, apparently, fighting crime is an appropriate hobby for a nine-year-old boy. (Don't worry, Brucie, we know that Dick Grayson is too stubborn and he forced you to make him your sidekick, we don't blame you much)

No matter how much not normal or insane Dick was, he was a good man who wanted to help people. That's why he didn't complain to Bruce about being tired after patrols. Much.

It didn't mean he didn't complain to Marinette though. Hugs and kisses were an added bonus to her being a very good listener. But that morning Marinette was too busy to even notice him. Dick tried his hardest to swallow his disappointment. He knew how important every commission was to Marinette. It was her passion and her life.

He sighed with the most miserable expression he could muster but Marinette didn't even look up. She continued sewing and ignoring his brilliant performance. Dick huffed with annoyance. How could she ignore him when he was sitting on their bed looking so sad and exhausted and hot?

***

Kitchen was the best room in their apartment. It was also the safest one because of Marinette's protection charms and spells. There was always a faint smell of pastry and delicious food.

Preparing coffee was completely mechanical. His tiredness didn't let him comprehend his own actions. That's why he didn't notice the strange taste of the drink as he should have.

Dick immediately felt better after finishing his coffee. He felt like a burden was lifted from his shoulders. It made him think about Marinette. His lovely girlfriend. He wanted to, no, he craved to see her. He could bet she smelled amazing.

Marinette was still working when he entered their room (she preferred her bedroom to any office). His heart swelled with tenderness at the image before him. Marinette was biting her lip, strands of hair in her face. She was also wearing his sweater, which made him roll his eyes, because it was the very same sweater he had lost. She was so concentrated that she didn't even notice him entering their bedroom.

Dick slowly approached Marinette to not spook her. "I love you, Cupcake," he confessed out of blue. Marinette jumped at the sound of his voice making Dick cringe internally. "I'm sorry for startling you, Mari." The woman just laughed and took off her glasses. Apparently, sewing in deem light isn't good for your eyes. And how could she know that?

"No, don't be sorry. I should pay more attention to my surroundings," Marinette suddenly stopped mid sentence. "I'm sorry for ignoring you earlier, Birdy. Do you want a hug?" Dick grinned at her offer and immediately scooped her in his arms.

"I know it's been a stressful week. What do you think about staying in bed the whole day? We can watch a movie. We can watch the Ladybug one and make fun of inaccuracies. Or any other superhero movie," he ranted excitedly. Marinette laughed a little and pulled back slightly. Dick's was adorable, but Marinette had a feeling that he wouldn't appreciate her laugh.

"I have to finish this dress for Clara, you know that," Marinette sighed tiredly. She really wanted to take a break and spend the day with her boyfriend. He always knew when she was too tired to continue working. Maybe, today was a day like that?

It was unfair to keep Marinette from her passion and Dick knew it. But! He wanted to spend some time with his wonderful girlfriend. It wasn't his fault she was the cutest person he has ever met. And he still couldn't make her choose between her passion and him. Dick sighed and started moving slowly to let Marinette out.

"Hey, I didn't say no," Marinette laughed at his hopeful gaze. "Yes, I would really like to spend more time with you."

And that's how Marinette found herself suffocating in a tight grip of her boyfriend. She actually didn't mind it. Feeling his weight on her body was the best feeling ever. It reminded her that he was with her, grounded her, when she was too concentrated on her work.

Marinette didn't really focus on the movie that was playing. Something was off and she couldn't focus. Dick was talking but she couldn't understand a word so focused on her feelings.

"...Marinette? Marinette?" Dick's worried voice drew her out of haze. She could see concern in his eyes so she tried smiling as reassuring as possible. Dick didn't seem convinced but hard lines on his face relaxed a little bit.

"I'm sorry. I dozed off. Cuddling with you always makes me sleepy, you know that." Dick sighed and hugged her even tighter. "What were you talking about?"

"I wanted your opinion about the next Titan's mission. You see, Wally has offered this strategy…"

Marinette listened to his every word very attentively. His excitement was obvious in every line and small movement. He was proud of Wally and his ideas, he wanted to share it with her.

"Do you know that you've spent more time complimenting Wally than actually relaying his strategy?" Marinette asked with a teasing smile. His face and neck were immediately covered with red spots.

"I… I… I have a crush on Wally!" Dick blurted out and Marinette felt like all air from her lungs disappeared. Colour left Dick's face immediately after realising what he had said. He started babbling how much he loved her, how important she was for him, he kissed her cheeks and hands. But all Marinette could focus on was that… she had lost a bet. Jason would be unbearable for the next several weeks. Or maybe even months. Marinette shuddered at the thought.

"Marinette, please, say something. Please. I'm sorry," Dick was clearly panicking and for a moment Marinette wanted to prank him. Pretend that she was hurt and then explain that it was because of her bet with Jason. But it felt too cruel, so she took his hand and smiled reassuringly.

"I knew it," she said, and Dick's bewildered expression was worth her honesty. "And it's okay, because it's possible to love multiple people at the same time. You loving Wally doesn't mean you don't love me." Dick stayed still for a long moment before leaning to her and knocking her breath out with a kiss. Marinette tried to lean away but he chased her lips every time, continuing kissing her.

"I love you so much. I don't know what I have done to deserve someone like you, but I will keep you until the end of the Universe," he whispered into her lips when they finally pulled a part.

"I love you, too. And falling for you felt like the easiest thing in the world," she said breathlessly, making Dick snort. He let out an involuntary whine when she leaned even further away.

"Why were you so upset?" Dick asked after several minutes of silence. Marinette murmured something into his shirt but he couldn't understand a word. "Can you repeat it please? I didn't understand a word you've said."

"Because I've lost a bet," she repeated just barely louder, but thankfully Dick heard her clearly this time.

"A bet?" he asked with the most confused and bewildered expression possible.

"You see, both Jason and I knew about your crush on Wally. And one day we were bored, so we started talking about you two. Jason said that you would blurt it out during an inappropriate moment but I thought you would sit me down and explain everything. So now, because of you I will have to give Jason 10 dollars," Marinette explained, carefully gouging hir reaction.

Dick prepared himself to hear a lot of different explanations. They varied from "I was surprised and didn't know how to react" to "I am unhappy with this and everything I said was for your comfort". He did not expect that the reason for her surprise was a bet. A bet. With his brother. His brother who also knew about his crush on Wally.

"How… How did you two find out? I thought I was doing a great job concealing my baby crush."

"Oh, it was so hard! You totally don't look at him with a stupid lovesick grin. And you totally don't laugh at his stupid jokes. You don't hold hands and touch each other all the time. You don't look both at me and him when you make jokes or laugh. Oh no! You do all of that and more!" Marinette exclaimed with a fake surprise.

"...I do?" Dick asked, his voice so small. "And you really don't mind it?"

"I really don't mind. As I said before, I'm secure in our relationship and I know that you love me. Also, I really like Wally. You have a good taste," Dick's smile at her words was brighter than thousands of suns. He picked her up and started spinning her around. Marinette's laugh filled their apartment, and in that moment Dick knew everything was going to be alright.

***

Later, much later, Dick was panicking. Everything sounded so easy when Marinette was with him. "Just go and confess to him,"she said. "I'm sure he feels the same," Marinette said, patient as ever, when Dick was panicking about every possible negative outcome.

"What if he rejects me? What if he wants me to break up with you?" he asked Marinette then. He tugged his hair from the frustration, but Marinette just smiled and took his hands.

"If he rejects you, I will hold you until you feel better. We will eat ice cream and watch cheesy movies. And Wally is a good person, I'm sure he would never ask us to break up." Dick briefly thanked all gods for giving him Marinette before leaning in to kiss her.

"I love you," he murmured into her lips.

But now he was alone in their apartment, because, unlike him, Marinette had a job to do. Dick sighed the tenth time in a row. He didn't have to worry about Marinette's reaction to his confession, because she was the one who had asked him out. "I don't hesitate anymore," she had said with a brilliant smile.

Well, Dick knew one thing for sure: he was a coward and would never confess to Wally without Marinette being there. And he couldn't ask anyone for advice. How does one explain that they are in love with two people at the same time? Should he just google it?

His musings were interrupted by a series of long knocks and a loud voice. Was it Jason screaming. "Hey, Dickhead, asking someone to hangout with you and then not showing up is such a dick move!" Yes, that was Jason. Dick scowled before remembering that he had invited Jason and Tim to spend time together.

He grinned and leaped out of the bedroom. Hanging out with his brothers would be a perfect excuse to not confess to Wally! A great timing on their part.

"Hey, guys..!" he was rudely interrupted by a shirt thrown into his face.

"Get dressed, Dickie bird. I don't want to see proofs of you and Pixie having a healthy sexual life." Dick flushed bright red when he realized that he was naked. He ran back to his bedroom followed by both Tim's and Jason's laugh. God, how embarrassing.

***

Wally was bored. He felt like he could die from boredom. And the day had started so nicely. He woke up early and prepared himself a very tasty cup of tea. Wally finished every small task around his apartment. He started reading several different books but none of them piqued his interest. There was nothing interesting on TV.

Wally sighed again. And again. And again. He felt like an aristocrat, laying on his coach with a wine glass full of water in his hand. The only thing missing was a manor. And nicer clothes. And servants. And wine. Actually, a lot of things were missing.

Jason's invitation to hangout felt like a blessing. Finally, something interesting to do. His heart totally didn't flutter in his chest when he found out that Dick would be there, too. No, sir, no. Dick was his best friend and nothing more. He was also dating Marinette, Wally's another very good friend.

Wally was the first one to arrive at the bar Dick had offered to meet in. It took all of his mental strength to not start bouncing from all the energy.

"Hi, Wally," Wally's smile dimmed a little when he realized it was Jason, not Dick. "I thought Dickie would be here first. You know, considering it was his idea."

Wally nodded at Jason's words. He thought he would have at least several minutes alone with Dick, who seemed to avoid him lately. And if he did pay attention to Wally, Marinette would always be there. It wasn't a bad thing per se, because Marinette was amazing, but Wally wanted some alone time with his best bro.

"I wonder why," Wally mussed at loud. Jason smiled in agreement and started talking about neutral themes. Wally could do that. After a day of pure boredom everything was interesting.

Twenty minutes later Tim was there, but Dick was nowhere in sight. Wally frowned. Did something happen? Dick would never miss family hangouts.

"You are late, Replacement," Jason chided Tim, conveniently forgetting he himself came later. Wally laughed at the sheer hypocrisy, but it was a very Jason move.

"Well, Dick is not here, so I don't think it counts," Tim shrugged. He was holding a half-empty cup of coffee (what else could it be?) and clearly needed more sleep. Wally internally shook his head. Sleeping as little as Tim was surely wasn't good for his health. Where were Dick and Bruce looking?

"Where is Dick anyway?" Jason asked, letting out an annoyed huff. "Did he do that so Timmy and I could hang out together? Not a very smart move, because I can just leave now and he will never know."

"He could have just forgotten about it," Wally suggested. He was met with two doubtful gazes. "Yeah, it's very unlikely. Something has happened and he can't leave?"

"Why didn't he say anything then?" Jason asked. He was leaning down on the wall of the bar with a small frown. "We should call him or Marinette."

"Marinette is working so she can't know where he is. We should call Dick directly," Tim said, already holding his phone. He was the one who dialed Dick, but Dick didn't answer not after the first call, nor the second, nor the third. Wally was worried. Dick always answered when someone called. Something must have happened.

"I was right. We should go and check on him. Should we walk or should I run to his apartment?" Wally asked, worry laced in his voice.

"Let's ride. I parked my car nearby," Tim said and turned around, walking to his car. Wally looked at Jason who just shrugged and went after Tim. Well, it seemed like he didn't have a choice then.

The ride to Dick's apartment felt longer than it should have. Wally was burning from all the anxious energy. What if something has happened to Dick? What if they were too late? What if Dick just didn't want to see them? Wally didn't know what would hurt more.

The apartment's doors were locked, which was a good sign. It meant that nobody had broken inside. It also meant that they couldn't enter. Fortunately, Tim had his own key so it wasn't a problem. ("Marinette gave it to me," Tim answered Wally's silent question. "She wanted me to know that I'm always welcome here". "Oh, Pixie didn't give me my own key! Does she not want to see my handsome face?" Jason asked more dramatically than needed. Wally totally wasn't disappointed that he didn't have his own key. It didn't mean that Dick didn't trust him, right?)

The apartment was clean, no visible signs of someone breaking in. Wally looked around, trying to find some clues that would help to understand the situation. Jason yelled something, but Wally didn't pay enough attention to understand him.

Wally turned around at the sound of Dick's voice only to look away immediately. He did not expect to see Dick naked. Wally blushed, thinking about the man's muscles and biceps, small scars on his chest and arms, scratches, and hickeys… Wally paled immediately. Oh, yes, hickeys, because Dick Grayson, his best friend, was dating Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Wally couldn't let himself forget.

It was easier to think after Dick had left. Now, Wally didn't have to use all of his mental strength to not ogle his best friend. Wally wondered why he had reacted this way. It's not like he had never seen Dick naked before. "You saw him when you were changing. You were both naked then. But here, it's much more intimate," his traitorous mind whispered.

"I'm not waiting for the golden boy to get dressed. I'm going to the kitchen. Pixie always has something sweet there," Jason said and walked out of the living room. Wally looked at Tim who just shrugged and followed his brother. Well, it seemed like he had no choice but to go to the kitchen.

The room was full of light and delicious smells. The table was littered with numerous vials, pastry, herbs, and other things Wally couldn't identify. He breathed out, feeling more relaxed than ever, despite his complicated feelings. Marinette's presence and influence were obvious there, and she always had the way to make people feel better. She was just magic that way.

"Wally! I didn't know you were here," Dick's excited voice interrupted his thoughts. Wally didn't even hear him coming in. Do not think about his body. Do not think about his body. Do not think about his body. "I'm really sorry about forgetting our hangout. I'm deeply ashamed."

"You wish I said "it's okay, I forgive you". But I won't! I will always tease you about it, so get ready!" said Jason, while rummaging through a freezer. "Where is milk, Dickhead? I wanted to make a cup of tea for myself, but I can't find anything here."

"Oh, we ran out of milk," Dick replied easily before a panicked expression settled on his face. "Wait… If we ran out of milk, then what did I add to my coffee this morning?"

"Welp, I hope it wasn't one of Marinette's potions," Wally offered sympathetically, but one look at Dick's panicked expression hinted that it was most likely what had happened. And wasn't that funny? Judging by Jason's laugh, he also thought it was hilarious.

"We can call her and ask about the effects of that particular potion?" Tim offered, trying to be serious but burst out laughing. Dick did not appreciate the lack of concern from his brothers. What if the potion hurt him and the effects could never be reversed? "It's very funny, but we really should call Marinette. We don't know how it can affect Dick. It could be really harmful," Tim said after calming down. Even Jason stopped laughing.

They did call Marinette. It must have been the smartest decision in several hours. But she didn't answer. Calling her five more times didn't help. They just were directed to voicemail. Marinette's cheery voice telling them "Hi! You've reached Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I'm very sorry, but I'm busy and can't answer you right now. You can leave me a message and I will call you later! Bye!" didn't help.

"And what should we do?" Wally asked, interrupting the awkward silence. Well, it wasn't awkward per se, but Jason desperately trying and failing to suppress his laugh did make Dick feel uncomfortable.

"You can try and recall everything that happened. This way we can know how exactly the potion affected you," Tim offered with a small shrug. "Start from the morning and up until this moment."

"I was really tired after patrol last night, so I tried complaining to Marinette, but she was too busy so she ignored me. I decided to make a cup of coffee. I actually felt better after it, but I had this strange need to go and hug Marinette, tell her how much I love her." Wally totally didn't feel a pang in his chest. He wasn't jealous. He didn't want Dick to confess to him, because they were best friends and nothing more.

"What happened next? Or are you hiding something?" Seemingly innocent questions (especially, considering it was Jason who asked) flustered Dick so much he was completely red. He's so handsome…no, bad, Wally, stop. "Oh, you are hiding something."

"Marinette and I cuddled, while watching movies," Dick answered, still as red as a tomato. "And then we had sex!"

Wally wasn't jealous Wally wasn't jealous Wally wasn't jealous Wally wasn't jealous Wally wasn't… Oh, he was so jealous

This time silence was certainly awkward. Very awkward. Dick was burning from embarrassment. Wally was trying to convince himself he wasn't jealous. Tim was thinking about anything other than his brother's love life.

And only Jason was amused. The day was working out great for him. He won 10 dollars. Yes, it wasn't much, but the satisfaction of winning the bet with Marinette was worse so much more. It would be even better if Dick blurted out that he has a crush on Wally with him nearby. But it seemed that his dearest older brother would rather embarrass himself than confess.

"Is it everything? Because I think you have left out something," but Dick just glared at him. Well, time for big guns. "Were you and Pixie talking about something? Something very important? Something that will have a big influence on your relationship?" he then feigned a scandalised gasp. "Did you confess that you have cheated on her?! Did you cheat on Marinette?!"

Dick's glare was the funniest thing in the world, and Jason's snickers just made him angrier. "Nothing like! I just told her that I have a crush on Wally!" His satisfied expression slowly morphed into one of shock. "I meant to say that I had told her about my crush on Wally! No, not that! About patrol! Yes, patrol!"

"Your crush on me?" Wally asked, his voice small and soft. He clearly was shocked by Dick's confession. He looked even more surprised than Dick was. "Are you serious?"

Tim felt like he was in a tv drama. Secret crushes? Check? Oblivious main characters? Check? Mean brother Jason? Check. The drama of the reveal? Check. Friends to lovers? Check? Another love interest? Check. The only difference was Marinette. That woman certainly wasn't the "evil and annoying wife". He briefly wondered how she had reacted, but judging that Dick was still alive she was very nice.

"How unpredictable, how surprising," Jason stage whispered, leaning down to Tim. This time both Wally and Dick glared, which was somehow even more amusing. Even Tim was cackling.

"Get out of here. I… Wally and I have to talk about my stupid slip. Go!" Dick shouted, basically throwing them out of the kitchen. Tim and Jason exchanged a knowing look and burst out laughing. Knowing that it pissed Dick off made them laugh even harder.

Dick didn't know what to say or how to react. He wanted to wait for Marinette to confess to Wally. She would know what to say and how to explain his feelings better than he could ever do. Her presence would give him strength and courage. He didn't want to blurt it out. Again. He was an idiot and Wally would never like him back.

"So, you like me?" Wally asked with a nervous chuckle. His crush liked him. His crush liked him. His crush liked him. Wally could not believe it was real and he wasn't dreaming.

"I..yes. Yes, I do," Dick stated, more confident than before. "You are smart, amazing, and incredible. You have a beautiful smile that lights up every room. Your plans are brilliant, but you don't always see it. You are very important to me so yes, I like you."

Wally felt like his head was spinning from Dick's compliments and the sincerety in his eyes. Blush rised to his cheeks. He was at loss of words. How should he react?! Compliment him back?

"I… I really like you, too," Wally finally answered, his throat dry from nerves. Dick broke in a brilliant, brighter than the sun grin. "How did Marinette react to that?"

"Do you want her exact words or just generally?" Dick asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Generally."

"Well, she said that polyamory exists and that me loving you doesn't mean I love her any less," Dick answered with the same gentle smile he always had when talking about Marinette. But this time Wally didn't feel envious or jealous. Dick suddenly looked more nervous than before. "Would you date me? You don't have to date Marinette, but I don't want to break up with her, you know?"

Wally didn't know. He has heard about polyamory and open relationships before, of course. He didn't know what to do or how to act. Would he and Marinette have to share Dick? Would they have a schedule, so they could spend time with Dick? Would they have to be together all the time? But Wally did know that honesty was important in every type of relationship so he took a deep breath and explained everything to Dick.

"Well, neither I nor Marinette have the experience of dating two people at once, so we will have to figure it out. Trials and errors, you know?" Dick offered with a small 0shrug. He looked away, suddenly more nervous than before. His main concern was confessing to Wally, he didn't think how the whole thing would work. "We can try anyway."

"We can try, yeah," Wally repeated with a small smile.

"Now kiss!" Jason groaned from annoyance and lack of patience. Dick felt blush from embarrassment (the amount of times he blushed today was concerning). Jason was not affected by his glare at all. "Well, I'm waiting. Marinette wanted to see your first kiss and I promised her to take a picture," he said gesturing to his phone.

"We won't kiss on camera. We can wait for Marinette," he growled before realising that he hadn't asked Wally how he would feel. Dick could hope the sudden realisation wasn't obvious, but judging by Jason's and Tim's expressions they both have noticed. Nothing to lose then. "Would you mind kissing me with Marinette there? I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Wally was silent for a moment before shrugging nonchalantly. "We can try, I guess," he said before realising one very crucial detail Dick had missed. "When did you two return? Because I remember Dick throwing you out of here."

"When Dick confessed to you? I'm not sure," Tim said with the same tone one would discuss weather, not their brother's love life. Jason nodded in agreement. "Now, we can leave you two alone. Right, Jason?"

"Eh, we all have to make sacrifices for the happiness of our elder brothers," Jason said with a dramatic gasp, but nothing new, nothing new. "Let's go, Timmy, let's go. We are not welcome here." Wally could swear he had heard Tim mutter "it's not like I am the one who suggested to leave" under his breath.

"So, are we waiting for Marinette?" he asked with a nervous chuckle. God, having Dick's undivided attention and being completely alone with him was a nerve-wracking experience. Wally locked his eyes on Dick's lips. They looked even better than usual. Was it because he could kiss him now? Must be. "No, I wanted to kiss you for too long to wait even a second more," Dick murmured before leaning towards Wally.

Kissing Dick blew up his mind. It wasn't something Wally hoped would ever happen but desperately wanted to. Dick's lips were a little bit chapped, just enough to notice but not enough to make their kiss uncomfortable. Wally didn't want to lean away even for a second to take a breath. If it was his last kiss with Dick (and it certainly wasn't), he would enjoy for as long as he could.

"It was just like I imagined it," Wally blurted out when they stopped kissing. He felt breathless and higher than ever.

"So you imagined kissing me?" Dick asked with a smug smile. "Well, I am me and I'm awesome."

"Where was the confidence when you were panicking about confessing to Wally?" Dick and Wally immediately wiped their head towards the voice. There was standing Marinette with a teasing smile and a Polaroid in her hands. "Don't worry! I wasn't standing here creepily and watching you two make out! I just took a photo and left immediately. Didn't want to intrude," she explained upon noticing Dick's and Wally's reaction.

"Why did you take a photo?" asked Dick.

"For my scrapbook, my heart. I have a photo of our first kiss, our first date, from the day we moved in, and when we finally organized everything. And I wanted to have photos of every important milestone in your relationship, too," Marinette explained, while moving gracefully around the kitchen. Her chaotic moves seemed to have a complicated system Dick couldn't understand.

Wally… didn't know what to say. Sure, he knew that Marinette wasn't against their relationship, but he didn't expect her to be so supportive and kind. He felt warmth bloom in his chest. He wasn't in love with Marinette, but right at that moment, in hers and Dick's cluttered kitchen, he felt like falling for her was the easiest thing ever.

But they still had some questions for Marinette to answer.

"Marinette, you love me, right?" Dick waited for Marinette to nod in agreement before continuing talking. "I may or may not have drunk one of your potions! But it was an accident!"

Marinette sighed tiredly. Then she sighed again. And again. And again. Wally stopped counting after five consecutive sighs. She pinched the bridge of her nose before talking again. "It's okay. I shouldn't leave my potions in the kitchen if I don't want anyone to accidentally drink them. I'm not mad, not disappointed. Accidents happen and it's not your fault. I just need you to tell me from what vial you took it and how it affected you, okay?"

It didn't take long for Marinette fo realise what potion Dick had taken. And when she did, she burst out laughing. Unfortunately, Dick and Wally didn't share her knowledge of magic, so they couldn't appreciate the irony of the situation without her help.

"I've been trying to make a way to free kwami. Tbe potion you've drunk? It's a result of my experiments. It didn't free kwami but it freed you," Marinette explained before laughing again. And this time Dick and Wally did join her.