#crazy color time hell yeah

[shazos]

back from the dead ⚡️

[einsatzzz]

OC Crossovers (1/3): Tea Time with Myr and Lidija (@myrmyrtheorca 's OCs!) Kurumi may or may not be telling Lidija about shoujo manga while Myr is just chilling there and relaxing from the nice atmosphere.

[skrunksthatwunk]

not my dad not liking moral orel season 3 🤭🤭🤭that's so embarrassing for him (<- he's not wrong for feeling that way but i think it's like 60% because he doesn't like it when art gets weird and that's so so tragic for him)

[kroosluvr]

featherman seeker

as usual da cele notes under cut

had to get some food so thsi si late... i lterally gluedm yself to my chair to finish this LMAOAO

all of the not-dialogue is just straight up lines frm featherman seeker LMAOOO just rearranged

this takes place during 3rd semester (see: infiltration log on wall on 4th page, also their winter clothes strewn around akira's room) after drawing it i was rereading like oh u cld prob see this as like post-third semester but nah i intended it to be such BECAUSE

i rock w the canon that sumire has no clue abt akechi's past and black mask and the mental shutdowns and shido and the engine room she doesnt know hes supposed to be dead, that he sacrificed himself, etc. so ofc shes going thru the game like yayyy featherman yay and her sort of naivete Gets thru to goro. i imagine this is like idk a game he played in childhood bc he was a featherman fan but now revisiting it bc sumire wanted to try it, hes like. damn. this kinda. uh. well thats crazy how things line up. so i think it kinda grates at him but sumi's excitement and like. enjoyment! of it kinda helps him also enjoy it more

SO LIKE He knows he's going to die. He knows thats how grey pigeon's story ends. but he's happy here, and now, with the people he loves, so that makes it All right for now. it's a sad story but it's the good ending.

also i forgor how/where/when goro exactly Actualizes back into existence but can u imagine if he spawned right into the winter wonderland of shibuya square like (head in hands) smth so like. isolating abt it. in a crowd of ppl being excited over christmas and hes like what the hell im supposed to be Dead right now.

also "you are not alone" in the first panels very important..... right under hte panel w goro and sumi side by side :') yea

ryuji and ann holding akira back. YEA.

i really like the 3rd slide. the colors mmmm BUT YEAH so its goro/akira fighting/saving sumire, hanging out at jazz jin, last stand against adam kadmon, then goro holding sumi and akira's hands in the snow, then them smiling :') kinda like a procession of memories, or to-be memories or whatever

ANYWAY this is also like part of my whatever canon divergence where the royal trio section of 3rd sem is just longer for no reason . (aka: the thieves take longer to win over to their side, idk maruki gives u a longer time on the deal, etc etcetc.) just more royal trio time :3

sumibun akimeow and gorodog in 4th img... hidden.... also tennis rackets. ALSO THE LITTLE POLAROIDS Important. and all their clothes! i imagine they stay over at leblanc A Lot. akira prob convinces sojiro to Keep morgana at his house LOL and he handles the business and stuff just so they can have their safe haven while they struggle to try and win the thieves back and infiltrate the palace etc . (I kinda have a comic or something in the works for this)

more abt dialogue choices

"it's tough for a tutorial stage" - this means smth. i didnt think this thru 100% ASKJDHASDKJA but its to do w akechi's life and how everything was so fucking difficult for him as a kid when it shouldnt have been.

"is the second phase giving you trouble" - also smth to do w akechi. (As u can see these are all half baked metaphors) smth to do w his 'second life" aka: third semester being Difficult. because now he has sumire and akira and he doesn't want to leave them, so dying the 2nd time is gonna suck real bad.

i like shuakesumi btw

[deadghosy]

Do you know about the Welcome Home fandom? So what about Wally Darling!Reader?

HAZBIN HOTEL X WALLY DARLING! READER

prompt: you are a greeter of the hazbin hotel! Who knew a muppet looking demon could be so colorful.

You are so soft spoken! Like that soft voice you have can hypnotize anyone into doing anything.

“hello, welcome to the hazbin hotel. i’m your greeter.” You say with a “:D” face

You’re so colorful and you’re definitely shorter than Lucifer…i can see Lucifer picking you up like a damn doll at times as you just smile with your muppet ass smile.

You’re just TOO DAMN CUTEEE! 🦆💗 literally even husk grumbles and gives you apples by the bar for you to stop giving him those doe eyes you give him when you are needy for apples.

I feel because of your muppet look, it would bring attention to yourself as a muppets looking demon is quite rare around the pentagram city, or even hell itself as Lucifer and Charlie have a muppet or Marionette look. 

Literally you are friends with Lucifer because of it and he finds your muppet look adorable. Even with your 3 ft height. (Yes I looked up his height and damn he short as hell!😭)

You are just chilling after greeting some new sinners in the hotel as you read the news paper, Lucifer comes out of no where. Dead ass reads the newspaper trying to understand your likes and dislikes.

“Lu-Lu?” You said softly as Lucifer awkwardly smiles and does finger guns at you. “Oh what a coincidence? What are you doing here..?” He says awkwardly as he sweatdrops at his attempt to start a conversation with you. “I live here?” You said raising a brow sitting down the newspaper.

“Oh I do too! What a very crazy thing?!” He says pointing his finger at himself as he poofs away in embarrassment as you just sat there…..*cue in pure confusion*

Alastor would not hate you because you are colorful, lemme be realistic. You two would be mutuals. Not like “oh I hate you but you are cool” type shit. I mean you two are the people who wave at each other but never approach each other because you don’t know if they like you fr. 🥲

One time a sinner had shoulder bumped you on purpose thinking you wasn’t gonna do anything…BUT NAH! YOU GRABBED THAT MF BY HIS NECK AS A SHADOW COVERS YOUR FACE, only leaving your eyes showing as you kick they ass out. You ain’t dealin' with no bullshit at this establishment. And for your friend’s sake.

Angel likes to play with makeup with your face since it’s calling out for his makeup kit. Literally he does blue eyeshadow on you.

I headcannon you wear blue eyeshadow just like how Wally’s eyelid is blue up there. Dead ass it would be cute if it was just blue eye shadow and you had a natural blush on your cheeks. You are quite beautiful reader💗😘

Since Angel is a drag queen, he would also try to make you wear drag queen makeup only for you to sneeze at how much product he used…yeah he never used it on your face.

You’re beautiful natural anyway…just don’t sneeze in his face. Ever again.

You definitely look like you listen to 1970-80’s jazz music as you dance in the lobby with Alastor nodding along happy. Just two jazz buddies liking jazz.

I can imagine Charlie trying to hold you back from eating the fruit gift basket for the guests…you’re only aiming for the damn apples as your mouth was drooling for it.

Imagine Vox has you on his channel because he brided you with apples. He stalked you through your tv you had that has rainbows and apples on it-

Well anyways Alastor “recused” you because you just sat there “begging” to be saved is what he saved when you munched on an apple confused by why Alastor came to take you away from Vox.

If you and Lucifer hung out doing hobbies together, which he suggested. You’re panting a portrait as he makes a duck based off of you….he can’t help but show affection of making you a duck version of yourself.

Niffty and you definitely get along well as hell! As you two have the same fashion taste as you both will dance to the genre of music you guys like.

With you being the greeter, you always have a soft smile and a soft approach to make the guest and residents feel safe in the hotel.

Sir Pentious will absolutely admire you…like a friend crush. He just wants to be your friend but you are too pure to approach as he thinks he won’t be cool enough to be your friend.

Imagine Valentino seeing you shopping and he tried to approach you only for a red smoke to cover you as you blinked confused to see an overprotective Lucifer smiling at you as you had teleported to the hotel. But with Lucifer, you could see his real feelings as you felt confused.

After a few months you and Pentious became friends because of one of his egg boiz named Frank said his “boss” wants to be friends with you. You giggled and nodded as you and sir Pentious do trust exercises together when Charlie host them.

Husk had dilated eyes and purr at you because you scratched under his chin which made him snap out of his cat daze and slap your hand as you giggle with a soft gaze.

I headcannon Velvette to be your girl who makes your outfits in primary colors. Like that or just cute aesthetic kid core fits. 💗‼️

I can see how reader always gives balloons to sinners who had trouble reliving their childhood. So they give balloons out to the sinners who had childhood trauma. You are a greeter, and a hell of a good one. 🦆💗

Imagine how Wally! Reader has those safety pins that say “Welcome!” And it’s so cute because you made them a t hand and Lucifer saw his you had effort in it so he made you more to give out to the guests.

I feel like Valentino will try to get you under his contract so he can use your pretty look since you seem like a femboy….but really you’re just a little guy who likes apples and his friends.

YOU’RE ONLY 12 APPLES TALL! 😨

But the hazbin crew literally cockblock him to the point he just stops doing he was trying to do to you.

I can see Lucifer trying to impress you at times as he never has a friend that had a cute appearance like you so your blank eye stare always catches him off as you just stand there smiling so adorably.

I headcannon waking up to find an apple by your night stand as a note reads “hope you like the apple, my angel!”- Lu-Lu. You just blinked at the apple completely ignoring the note and eating the apple as you smile at the taste.

“…yummy apppleee….” You say until you open your eyes looking at the note. “Wait what.”

You had gave Lucifer back an apple basket with rubber ducks that had painted apples not it for your appreciation of the apples he gave you 

[mooningningg]

"You're insufferable." part i, jjk.

-in which you got in a heated argument with jjk men.

part ii.

toji, satoru, and nanami, (f).

warnings, genre. swearing! not proofread! | angst to fluff! |

notes i. this was requested from like a year ago so... yeah.

Toji. the scarred man was flaring up your temper for sure, you sat at the your side of the passanger seat. drowning in your own sea of thoughts whilst you looked outside the window of the moving car. tiny drops of water was plastered right on the car window. the sound of pitter-patter by the rain can be heard but slightly muffled.

the car however was silent, toji, your boyfriend was driving with a deadly grip on the steering wheel. you both were driving home after a disasterous date. it was going on fine at the beginning but all of a sudden, your meticulous boyfriend and you were suddenly fighting with him over something you didn't seem to think about now. you were just fuming in your seat because he had raised his voice at you in front of many people, "are you going to keep up this being a bitch act of yours?" he bites, you can feel the venom seeping through his voice.

you stayed silent, trying to send him the hint that you weren't going to talk to him any sooner. he hisses beside you before slamming his hand on the steering wheel, making you look at him with a flinch, "damn it!" "what the hell is wrong with you, toji!" "now you decide to talk to me."

"if you were just being so fucking easy back there, then maybe i wouldn't have yelled." the man beside you fills you in, trying to point out your mistakes from the fight.

"oh so now it's my fault that you have anger issues that you can not somehow get a hold of? you're a fucking assassin, toji. yet you act like you can't color inside the lines with a gun to your fucking head."

"what the fuck did you just say?" his voice grumbles, and just in time for a thunder to roar in the sky, light flashes in a second before the rain came down heavier. toji took a glance at you, his eyes were filled with anger and you can tell, you calmed yourself down. looking out from the window again you wrapped your own arms around your body to provide warmness, you couldn't handle it anymore. there was never a day where you don't find yourself arguing with the scarred man over and over again, you were tired, to an extent.

"you're a fucking jerk." you mumble, resting your head on the window as you feel your tears starting to build up. it hurts you, him being too comfortable yelling at you in front of a crowd, it shatters your heart into millions of pieces. you knew you were hard to love but... toji made you feel like there wasn't hope at all.

"I hate you." it came out like a whisper, your voice vulnerable and weak. toji's grip loosened, his eyes softening in an instant with his face muscle finally relaxing, but not in a good way. damn did those three words, eight letters, stab his heart a million times repeatingly, over and over again. he was hurting you, and now he realizes it, he has gone too far now, "y/n."his voice was gentle now, no sign of anger or irritation.

you didn't answer, you felt so weak now. you felt like you were going to burst into tears within a second, " 'm sorry." your boyfriend says, your heart warms up in an instant, it was unfair, he had this effect on you and you just can't ignore it, "whatever." you replied with a sob at the end of your sentence, you had been crying again... because of him.

toji didn't like seeing you like this so he swore in him, he would kill anyone that made you cry, and if he did make you holler again, he'll end his self instead.

Satoru. "This is crazy." you say in frustration, looking at your lover as if he has grown tw heads to make your eyes shine with horrid, "oh this is crazy? you're

crazy." the silver haired exclaims with his tone sharp and absolute, you were taken a back by his response, "oh wow, don't try to point this on me when you're the one who flirted with a girl." "it's like I can't even do anything in this relationship anymore, you have this fucking vision in your head that im so fucking wrong all the time."

"you're just making up excuses, satoru. it won't cover up the fact that you flirted with the girl." you pointed at him, your eyes glared at him with your voice slightly raising. smoke was basically coming out of satoru's ear, he was fuming, "you're insecure, that's what you are." "what did you just say?" "you make a big fuss whenever i talk to another girl, you're afraid ill le...

there was the sound of your palm hitting his right cheek, it echos through out the room with your eyes tearing up. who am i kidding, it already rolled down your cheeks, your eyes held betrayal. satoru, never in your life did he point out your insecurities in an argument.

"what happened to you. if that's what you think then I'm afraid we're better off by ourselves." you say calmly, your tears still can't help themselves from falling, "y/n." "no, you don't say those hurtful things and expect me to be okay."

"im sorry, i know i crossed the line." the silver haired exclaims with a saddened voice, the slap was like a slap from reality. truly the reason why he realized his mistake. "i would never do that to you." your voice cracked, you couldn't anymore, the burden rose up to your throat and it made hard for you to say something without finding it hard. you were crying now.

backing away from your boyfriend your back hits the wall and you slide down to the floor whilst trying to calm yourself down. and just like that you feel your boyfriends familiar scent crouch down to your level, grabbing your hands gently to replace his slender hands to wipe away your tears. "im sorry baby, im so... fuck, i hate seeing you like this."

Nanami. "im just trying to calmly apologize to you, i dont want to fight anymore." the blonde says, he brings his hand up to his mouth in a frustrated manner, you stood there, your arms crossed in front of your chest with your eyebrows furrowed. your face was bear but the outfit you were supposed to wear to your date with him was still on your body, "how is that going to help me, is it going to bring back the two hours i waited for you!" you exclaim, you were frustrated, the man forgot your date because he went to a party at work. and he didn't even tell you he was going, so it caused a misunderstanding, and you waited fir him like a fool.

"did you get hurt? i said i was sorry didn't i? can i go to bed now." he says in almost a monotone voice, you were offended by the way he reacted. it was almost like he didn't even care about your feelings. your eyes by now had widened, "so you're invalidating my feelings now? so what you said sorry?" "god your voice it's so..." "its so what." "...." "answer me!"

"fucking annoying! that's what it is, you yell, you yap do you ever get tired?" nanami finally loses his composure and his words were like daggers stabbing your heart. and if you listened closely, you can hear your heart breaking into pieces, and shattering beneath you. "you... you're the least man i have ever thought to say those words to me."

"wait." but it was too late, you had slammed the door in your shared room, nanami was left inside the cold atmosphere of the living room. he drops his self to the couch, placing his elbow on both his knees as he runs his finger through his blonde locks in frustration, he fucked up.

he needed to calm his self down before comforting you, in case he hurts you again.

[star-girl69]

I Did Something Bad

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

synopsis: you somehow become the target of a deadly vendetta, and it ends in an overnight stay in the infirmary, a lot of blood, and a lot of your scary girlfriend being her scary self.

a/n: save me clarisse “touch her and die” la rue save me save me save me save me save me save me… this is a completely self indulgent fic and no i will not apologize. love y’all!!!!!

inspired by an ask @nvirskies sent me

I Did Something Bad - Taylor Swift

warnings: not proofread, VERY VIOLENT AND GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF Y/N GETTING INJURED!!!!! BLOOD!!!!! WOUNDS!!!!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED, anyways…. DANNNNNYYYYYY MY BABY!!!!! HES BACK!!!!!, ares cabin bonding time <3, FOUND FAMILY, y/n is crazy too, insane power couple who are insane together!!, y’all know what’s going on…… protective clarisse, possessive clarisse, insane clarisse, murderous clarisse, again clarisse gets a bit too into capture the flag, swearing, attempted murder!, LOTS of violence, kissing, clarisse hates talking about her feelings but she will do it for y/n, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

Clarisse loves capture the flag.

It’s the one place where she really gets to be in her element. That’s where she prefers to be- in the moment, hard and fast, a flurry of swords and adrenaline and the feeling of someone surrendering.

Of course, Clarisse is never the one surrendering. You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone surrender to her.

Clarisse loves capture the flag.

And that love is also shared by her equally violently-minded siblings, which is why you’re sitting on her lap in the middle of the Ares cabin, listening to everyone scream and shout about tactics and plans and things that are just general boring.

Clarisse, of course, listens to everything. Silently humming to herself, drumming her fingers against your stomach, rolling her eyes and scoffing silently at some of her siblings ideas.

They all shout out ideas, but everyone knows that Clarisse has the final say.

You should probably be preparing with your own cabin- but this is just so much fun.

The tension in the room rises significantly after Nelson shuts down another one of Carrie’s ideas. Carrie has a mind made for the strategy of battle, where Nelson is all tough war and pain.

Clarisse likes to brag that she’s the perfect mix of both.

“I’m bored,” you huff, leaning back into your girlfriend. “Can they start punching each other again? Or something entertaining?”

She laughs and wraps her arms around your waist, kissing your shoulder. “You’re so violent,” she mumbles. “I’m supposed to be the violent one.”

“I jus’ think it’s really funny,” you shrug. “Like, can you blame me? It’s objectively funny.”

Danny, your favorite of Clarisse’s siblings, skitters through his older siblings and throws himself onto the couch next to you.

“Did they start fighting yet?” he asks, practically bouncing in his seat.

“No,” you sigh, dramatically.

Clarisse puts her arm around his shoulder, and you know she feels ridiculously proud over the fact that she’s the favorite of the most lovable member of the Ares cabin, and the fact you’re literally draped over her.

Not your fault she’s so comfy.

“Hey, how you feelin’ about tomorrow?” you ask Danny.

His face hardens. “I’m gonna fuck a bitch up.”

“Oh, my Gods,” you mutter, listening to Clarisse chuckle and pat his back.

“Hell yeah,” she smiles.

“Good!” you say after a second, feeling slightly disturbed over the 11 year-old’s colorful language. But, who are you to stop him?

Clarisse sighs after a moment, and you look up to see Carrie and Nelson finally at each other’s throats. Besides for the fact it’s just so funny when the siblings fight, they should get all of the anger out now so they can work as a team tomorrow.

“Well, no, Nelson, we aren’t gonna fucking ‘kill them with kindness,’ because that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Hey, fuckers,” Clarisse says, but they’re too absorbed in the fight to hear her.

You scramble off of her, climbing over Danny, watching in amazement as he opens the bag of pretzels he did not have in his hand a second ago- stuffing one in his mouth and holding it out to you.

These pretzels might have been buried in between the couch cushions. But they’re sealed, so who cares.

“You know what, fuck you, Carrie!” Nelson shouts, pushing her back.

“Askin’ for it,” she laughs, winding up and punching him straight in the face.

You can’t feel bad for the crunch, because Nelson should have know Carrie was gonna punch him- he could have at least put in an effort to stop her. Instead, he just stood there and took it.

“Oh,” Matty winces, sliding next to you. Why the hell are random things just appearing? Did he come out of the cushions too? Probably, seeing as he’s always falling asleep. “Askin’ for it,” he mumbles, shaking his head.

Nelson recovers from the hit and jabs at Carrie- but she stands there, hand on her hip, completely still.

Clarisse catches his arm.

He’s breathing out heavily, and the room goes pretty much silent- except for you, Danny and Matty chomping on pretzels in the corner of the couch.

“You’re fuckin’ embarrassing, Nelson.”

He pulls himself away from her and huffs, heading to the bathroom to deal with his bright red cheek.

Clarisse sighs heavily.

“Gods, can’t have one night without someone punching someone.”

Carrie looks around the room with a smug smile, scoffing when Clarisse shoulders her as she walks past. She lays down in your waiting arms, kissing your hand as you wrap them around her.

“Gettin’ on my nerves,” she mumbles, closing her eyes and leaning into you.

“I know,” you soothe, turning around and making a silly face to Danny at her dramatics.

—-

Nelson is obviously still angry the next day. His helmet doesn’t cover all of the nasty bruise on his cheek, a sickening purple against his tan skin.

Him and Carrie swap glares across the the throngs of red helmets.

“Okay, Carrie, stop,” you huff. “He might actually kill you. You’re the one who got a punch in- let it go.”

She turns to glare at you, now.

“Tell him to stop staring at me.”

“Well, you can help by looking away first.”

“Fine,” she mumbles, putting her helmet on and tightening her grip on her sword. Chiron made his usual speech around 10 minutes ago, and Clarisse has finally finished updating everyone- more like yelling incoherently at everyone- about their positions.

But you have a similar strategy.

The blue team has the brains of the Athena Cabin, but the red team has all the brute strength.

Clarisse huffs, walking over to you and Carrie.

“Okay, ready?” she asks, reaching over to tighten the straps of your armor- even through they’re perfectly fine- by habit.

Carrie let’s out a deep breath. “Yes. Very ready to fuckin’ pummel those blue shits and pretend they’re Nelson.”

“That’s the spirit!” you smile, slapping her shoulder. She rolls her eyes and steps away from you, smiling slightly.

Danny and Matty walk over, and your little band is complete. You hunt in the woods just south of the flag, deterring a lot of hopefuls. The older campers know to come up with sneakier ways to get by, but Clarisse is otherwise confident in those she placed by the flag to really protect it.

You strike out into an offensive stance, pointing the end of your blade straight at Danny- and he quickly counters with his own impeccable stance.

“Oh, yeah, they don’t stand a chance,” you smile, and he returns it.

—-

You take your normal routes through the woods.

With the added weight of you and Danny, the group is not as stealthy as they could be- but Clarisse is a secret teddy bear who doesn’t like to be away from you for long, and Danny is too young to be set loose, left to watch the big kids work, occasionally jumping in for a few swings.

Leaves crunch under your feet in the otherwise silent forest. You’ve already come across a few stragglers, and before you could even raise your sword the Ares siblings had disarmed them. Your heart squeezed seeing the absolutely heartbroken look on Danny’s face- he was promised that this time he could really fight.

And after you pulled Clarisse off to the side and reminded her of her deal- Danny was leading the group, with you and Clarisse behind him.

He marches tall and proud, sword pointed out, even though Clarisse scolds him and says his arm will get tired- he’s young and doesn’t listen to his half-sibling.

You smile, watching him, admiring how carefree he is. The walk continues mostly in a stealthy silence- Clarisse, Carrie and Matty has mastered the art of walking silently- so your cover is lost by you and Danny.

Of course, whenever you try to convince Clarisse that maybe you should go somewhere else- she looks at you like you’ve suddenly turned into a female Minotaur.

Clarisse, her hand in yours right now, has a hard time understanding the concept that she can’t be with you all the time. That you might get hurt, that she can’t always stop it.

It’s sweet how constantly concerned she is over you, it makes your stomach twist so good.

She squeezes your hand, bringing you out of your reverie. Voices.

“Danny,” you whisper, almost silently, kicking the back of his leg. When he turns around, frown on his face, you point towards the direction of the voices- and now footsteps.

You all stop in your tracks.

Danny practically jumps up in down, you smile wide, and Clarisse signals to Carrie and Matty, urging you and Danny closer to the action.

When they come into the clearing, a few Hermes kids dressed in blue bandanas, swords in their hands. They’re all strong, you’ve seen them around- recognize them vaguely as potentials that lost to Clarisse in ugly sparring matches.

The siblings have disappeared into the trees.

So it’s just you, unsuspecting, and Danny.

You can see the triumphant looks on their faces.

Except for one of them.

Nicky, maybe? You don’t care enough about him to know his name. But there’s something more in his eyes that you notice immediately, something similar to the passion Clarisse gets in her eyes at the mention of this game.

Danny jumps forward, sword swinging just the way his blood knows, the way his siblings have taught him meticulously.

They seem momentarily surprised at the force his small body can produce, quickly countering with their own jabs, swords clashing together. The other focuses on you.

You’re not worried, you know the siblings are just letting the two of you have your moments before they really come in and you can sit back and watch Clarisse fight. Muscles rippling, sick smile on her face, spear glowing with electricity.

He comes at you and your swords clash together, the force of it making your teeth ring- Gods, he’s strong. He pulls back and you do the same thing a few more times, neither of you able to get the upper hand- until he finally seems to realize his height advantage.

He swings his sword down on you, pressing down hard- and with gravity on his side you have to put all of your focus into stopping that downward sword.

You don’t see his foot coming out to kick you back.

You only feel it, boot in your chest, wind knocked out of you, groaning as you slam into the ground.

“Fuck,” you breathe, tasting blood in your mouth.

“Y/N!” Danny shouts, and that’s when you see his sword coming down on you again. He does it on purpose, that much is sword, the strategic placing of his sword slicing through the top of your arm.

He doesn’t mean to kill you. He means to hurt you.

His purpose isn’t winning the game, you realize as the blade tears through skin, his purpose is to hurt you. That’s what you saw in his eyes.

Delight that his prey was right in front of him.

The realization washes over you like a wave- but like the real ocean, another one comes- an overwhelming feeling of pain, blooming outward like a flower.

He bites his lip in concentration, standing over you as his blade sinks into the dirt. He smiles wide, hitting his target.

You scream.

It’s a quick stop. The clearing is filled with the sound of your screams, swords stopping in midair- everyone realizing simultaneously that you’re really hurt. That this boy hurt you on purpose.

Something cuts through the air, wind in your ears, swiftly burying itself through Nicky’s armor and into his side.

You’ve realized in the last day that men are stupid. First, it was Nelson not expecting to get punched, and now it was Nicky not prepared for a retaliation after hurting you.

The thick armor slowed down the spear, so it unfortunately stabs his side and falls right out.

He yells in pain, ripping off his armor, revealing a small cut. Nothing compared to yours, but you can faintly recognize the fire in his eyes before Matty is leaning over you and Carrie is wrapping a bandana above the pain in your arm.

You hear the sounds of something happening, someone fighting, skin on skin.

You hear all of this, you see all of it, but all you can feel is the burning, burning cut in your arm. It feels like he cut it off. Your mind is hazy, you know blood is gushing, you never knew something could hurt this bad.

You faintly realize you bit your tongue when you went down. Blood spurts from your mouth when you cough, when you groan in pain, when you say her name like a prayer over and over again.

“Clarisse,” you moan, legs twisting around, trying to get away from the pain that you can’t escape from. “Clarisse, Clarisse, please, Clar…”

Matty pulls your head into his lap.

You can tell it’s bad, you can see the queasy look on his face. You clench your fist- the one you can feel, at least- to keep from screaming, heels digging into the dirt. You’re still trying to get away. But you can’t. You can’t get away from this all consuming pain.

“It’s okay,” Danny whispers, suddenly appearing next to you. He voice shakes, he doesn’t know, he can’t tell you anything reassuring.

“Can you go find someone, Danny? One of the Apollo kids, anyone?”

He ignores Carrie, starring at you for a second longer.

“Y/N,” he mumbles, his voice quiet, finally able to act like the young boy he is.

“You can go,” you breathe, somehow finding the strength to make him believe you’re okay. “Go help me, okay?”

His little footsteps disappear into the woods faster than you’ve ever heard him run, even when they have his favorite brownies for dessert.

You let out a sob.

“D-did he cut it off?” you moan. “It feels like he cut it off, please tell me he didn’t… he didn’t cut my arm off…”

“Oh, fuck, no,” Carrie breathes, pressing down agains the wound to try and stop the blood from gushing out- but it doesn’t really help. It’s just too much. “I mean, it’s deep and it’s nasty, but you’ve still got an arm, don’t worry.”

She laughs, awkwardly, nervously. You can feel even more of your arm drifting away, blood pouring out onto the ground.

“Hey, hey, no,” Matty mutters, lightly hitting your face.

“Wha-”

“Can’t fall asleep, Y/N,” Carrie says, nervously. “Sit up against Matty, come on, huh?” you lean against Matty, head clearing now that there’s fresh air in your system.

Your eyes focus on Clarisse.

Except she’s not anywhere near you, she’s 10 feet away, punching Nicky so hard you’re surprised he’s still standing.

Carrie cringes. “Okay, maybe don’t look at that.”

But you’re sort of entranced by her. She’s not outwardly angry, her face reveals nothing- just a mask of hard, unrelenting focus. It should scare you, how much concentration she puts into her deadly punches, blood flying with each hit she lands. Her knuckles are red, his face is a mess, but it’s exhilarating to know she would do this for you.

A sickening crack rents the air. “My fucking nose, fuck, fuck, screw you, you fucking bitch! Fuck-”

The smallest smile creeps it way onto her face. She wipes her mouth, leaving blood on her lips- but she doesn’t seem to notice.

“I can keep going!” she shouts back, grabbing his shirt. “You wanna do that shit? I’m only getting started. I’m gonna throw you around, then I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you.”

“Wait! Wait, okay, wait, shit,” he breathes, holding his hands up in surrender. Blood pours from his nose, down to her hand bunched in his shirt. He’s taller than her, yet he’s surrendering.

“You’re pathetic,” she hisses, pushing him back. He hits the ground with a groan, trying to grab for a rock, a sword, anything to defend himself against Clarisse and her fury.

Clarisse loves capture the flag.

One of the reasons why she does is because she gets to let out all her anger. She looks at you, but not in your eyes- she looks at the wound on your arm. You can see the red pouring out of the corner of your eye- but you choose to ignore it, instead focusing on the way the fire inside of her gets relit at the sight of your blood. She has plenty reason to be angry now.

She grabs her spear, sauntering over to him, laughing at the way he can’t even try to get up.

“So fuckin’ stupid,” she smiles, tilting her head. Then the tip of her spear is pointing right at his neck, she’s standing over him the way he did to you. “How’s it feel?” she smiles.

He coughs, hissing in pain.

“I’m scared, Clarisse, okay? You got your fucking revenge, but it wasn’t me.”

She laughs, loud and boisterous. “I just saw you cut her, dumbass. I really should kill you, just as a favor to the world.”

“Paid me,” he coughs. “Drachmas, in exchange for hurting your girlfriend-”

She presses the blade against his throat, he yells out.

“Who?”

He stays silent.

“Who?!” she yells, kicking his stomach.

“Nelson!” he screams. “Nelson! Nelson paid me, please, Clarisse-”

She moves the blade away, and he hisses- she probably just barely drew blood.

“I’m not done yet,” she whispers, deadly promise dripping from her words. She turns around, fades out of focus for a second, and then she’s right next to you.

Her hands are cupping your face, she looks sick, seeing you like this up close- but all she does is kiss your forehead. Like you, she doesn’t want to look at your flesh and blood.

“I’m here, I’m here, oh, fuck. Gods, what the fuck,” she mumbles, looking very pointedly away from the wound, finally seeing how bad it is up close.

“Clarisse.”

“I know,” she whispers, smoothing your hair back. “I know, baby, I know, but it’s gonna be okay.”

Danny runs into the clearing, shouting “just over here” while healers follow him, immediately groaning at the smell of blood, the sight of it.

Clarisse switches places with Matty, holding you against her, kissing your head again and again, muttering about how brave you are.

You almost laugh at the odd looks the Apollo kids give her, unused to seeing the big bad Clarisse so soft. But they just don’t know her like you do. She doesn’t love them like she loves you.

One of them starts to clean the blood, and your eyes drift shut as the other starts to mend your skin back together.

—-

You wake up with familiar curly hair in your face.

You spit it out, groaning, mouth feeling fuzzy, everything feelings fuzzy.

“Clarisse?” you mumble, eyes not even open, but you wake up with that hair in your mouth everyday, and you’ve memorized the weight of her arm around your waist.

She sits up immediately, jumping out of bed, standing up and fixing her messy hair like someone’s gonna be there.

“Um, hello? I was speaking, crazy girl.”

“Oh, thank Gods,” she mumbles, blowing hair out of her face and sitting back down. “Thought we got caught.”

You look at her, then your surroundings-

“Oh, holy shit,” she says, staring at you like a deer in headlights. “Wait, you’re awake. You’re awake!”

She throws her arms around you, burying her face into your neck, reverberating with the sound of your laughter.

“You make it sound like I’ve been in a coma for 10 years.” Your heart drops. “Have I… been asleep for a while?”

“Um,” she says, softly, biting her lip as she extricated herself from your neck. “Capture the flag was yesterday, so… no.”

“So you’re just being dramatic?”

“Possibly,” she smiles. “It’s not my fault you’ve taken over my entire brain.” She shows her bruised knuckles, split open, already starting to scab. “I said not to fix ‘em up. They don’t hurt that bad, and they look fucking cool.”

You grab her hands, relieved it’s only been a day, kissing the rough scabs. She blushes, although she tries her best not to, breathing in deeply.

“How are you feeling, baby?”

You look towards your totally healed arm, finally realizing that you know have full control of your hands, unlike yesterday. It’s wrapped in a bandage for precautions, but it feels totally healed.

“All good,” you smile.

“You gotta take it real easy for the next week or so, yeah?” she fusses, brushing hair behind your ear. “So you call me, or one of my siblings, anyone to help you with anything. No lifting heavy stuff, don’t do anything too fast- you might tear the healing.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll carry me around like a princess?” you giggle, laying back, inviting her into your arms. She gets back under the covers, head against your chest so she can hear your heartbeat.

“That’s not a bad idea, actually. Practical. Very safe.”

You hit her shoulder. “I’m joking.”

“Eh, I’ll change your mind.”

You smile, running your hands through her hair, enjoying the early mornings with her warmth against you, soft sunlight peeking through windows.

She sits up after a moment, laying her head back on the pillow, arm back around your waist. She just sits there for a moment, you can feel her admiring you. Clarisse doesn’t look at you. She traces your face with her eyes, imagining it was her hands, her lips, she admires you like she sees a reverence in your eyes that has nothing to do with your godly parent.

“Can you promise me something?” she asks, whispering softly, even though you’re the only two people around.

“What?” you say, staring at the ceiling, feeling like you might fall back asleep.

“Don’t get hurt. Like, ever again, please.”

You smile. “Okay, baby,” you mumble.

“I’m serious,” she smiles, nudging your cheek with her nose. “I… I was really scared. And I don’t like to feel that way, especially when it comes to you. I was angry, too. I was so fuckin’ angry I’m surprised I didn’t kill him. You can’t get hurt like that, not again, you just gotta let me protect you. Or else I might actually kill someone, Y/N.”

“I know,” you mumble. “I watched you.”

“Did I scare you?” she asks, voice soft. There’s no hint of your loving, smiley Clarisse in this bed right now. She’s worried, as if she could ever scare you.

“No,” you say, honestly. “It’s sweet how far you’re willing to go for me.”

“Yeah,” she mumbles. “You better like it. Do you know what I got for that? Eight months no dessert. Five months cleaning the fuckin’ stables.”

You barely hide your laugh. “Oh, my Gods, are you serious?”

“Yes,” she grumbles. “But, I’ve decided it’s fine. You’re my loving girlfriend, right? You can sit there all pretty so I have something to look at when I’m cleaning. And you’ll share your dessert with me, won’t you?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, turning your head. “I will.”

“I really love you. My perfect pretty princess,” she jokes, smiling lopsidedly, and you return it. “You’ll let me protect you, and maybe I can get some decent sleep at night, huh?”

When she presses her hand to your face and her lips to yours, you think nothing could possible ruin this moment. It’s just you and her, and everything that’s beautiful.

“You always protect me, Clar,” you smile.

She smiles, lips grazing yours. This is your Clarisse. The one who smiles just for you, who puts her rough hand softly against your face. This is your Clarisse, the one who would do anything for you, the one who wants to carry you around, the one who wants to protect you and hold you and never let anyone fuck with her baby.

The door slams open, someone is laughing boisterously, another person is groaning in pain, and a familiar voice is shouting your names.

“Clarisse! Y/N! Clarisse, Clarisse! Y/N, Y/N, Y/N!” Danny shouts, dragging out the last syllable of your name. He jumps onto the bed by your feet, even when Clarisse frowns, looking at you like a puppy dog who’s just brought a dead bird to your doorstep.

And as you look at the scene behind you, Nelson being laid on another bed, Carrie being helped into the corner- laughing hysterically, knuckles split open.

Nelson’s face is practically unrecognizable.

You suppose Danny really did bring something unsavory like a dead bird, dropping it right at your feet.

“So, we all woke up right?”

Your eyes whip to Danny, shocked as he know launches into a story about Carrie waking up to Nelson saying he hadn’t been called to the Big House yet, maybe he would get away from it- but swiftly received punishment in the form of Carrie’s fists. With Clarisse in your bed, no one had the guts to stop them, and they fought for what must have been 10 minutes- Nelson very obviously losing.

“And, now we’re here,” Danny sighs, breathing out after his long and embellished rant. “But you’re awake, Y/N!”

He looks at your skeptically- specifically, at your arm.

“Can I hug you?”

“Oh,” you smile, your heart twisting with such a fondness for this wonderful little kid. “Of course you can, Danny,” you smile, opening your arms wide.

“Yes, just be careful,” Clarisse cautions, her arm around your waist. “Watch the arm, huh?”

“He’s just a baby, Clarisse,” you mumble, breath messing his hair.

“He’s 11.”

“Baby,” you reinforce, squeezing him tighter.

“Y/N… you’re crushing me,” he groans.

“Oops,” you say, letting him go. “You’re just too cute,” you coo.

Clarisse scoffs from next to you. You smile, kissing her cheek. “You’re beautiful. Scary, dangerous. Not cute, though.”

She hums. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Carrie walks over, sporting her split knuckles, also opting to let them heal naturally like Clarisse. She shows them off with a wide smile, even as Nelson screams in the background when they reset his nose.

Matty rubs his temples.

You smile, looking around at your very dysfunctional, very awkward, but loving family-adjacent.

“Hey, did we end up winning the game?” you ask.

Clarisse snorts. “Oh, nah. Without us, they were lost. Who cares, though?”

“Yeah, I liked beating Nelson up much more than I would have liked winning,” Carrie smiles.

“Next time,” Danny starts, “Can I lead again?”

Clarisse squints at him. “…Maybe.”

You wink at him, nodding subtly.

“Okay!” he smiles.

Clarisse kisses your forehead.

“I love you, pretty baby,” she mumbles.

You smile. “I love you too, scary baby.”

—-

clarisse when she sees y/n get hurt: oh so the only natural response to to THROW A FUCKING SPEAR AT SOMEONE

appreciation for the fact she threw it from like really far away and just tore through his armor likkkkeeee

nelson and nicky sitting in the infirmary together hugging each other terrified clarisse and carrie are going to come back for more

nicky does not sleep at night anymore SHE SAID SHE WASNT DONE

—-

shout out to my baby danny he carried this fic fr

shoutout to y/n for getting WRECKED so we could have this beautiful moment w clarisse

shoutout to matty for being his beautiful self

shoutout to carrie for being her violent self

and finally shoutout to clarisse for being overprotective and insane

—-

clarisse after she actually convinced y/n to let her carry her around everywhere: 🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗

bitch is so happy…

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish @rebecca37 @saltair-and-palemoonlight @ace-spades-1

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Multiverse Police (pt.3)

JL very soon finds out there's no reasoning or controlling this particular brand of crazy. Amity, as they like to call themselves - 'Because saying Interdimensional Law Enforcement every time is long and ILE is boring', Dani explains to them - do whatever they want and deem necessary, and no one can stop them.

They have bargained with the US government to let their whole town stay for a week in Illinois like one would ask to stay in a hotel room. They have all but swiped all the tech shops in the nearby area, and somehow, they had real, actual money to pay for it, despite not even originating from this dimension. They claimed it was due to the Ghost - or God, the opinions were mixed - of Time making it work. They visited a bunch of people. Heroes, that was.

One memorable visit was one they paid to Flashes. Vlad, the mayor of Amity Park and unofficial leader of ILE, and Tucker, a kid with an insane knowledge on all and every kind of tech, performed a whole lecture to Flash family as well as their friends and colleagues, on importance of safety while time-traveling, the best ways to fix the timelines and even on upgrades to their costumes.

The other important visit was the one they paid to Diana, although that one was not so climactic - Jazz just gave her a bunch of letters and a card with a summoning sigil on it. 'It's for Pandora, she enjoys having a cup of tea with Themyskirians,' the redhead claimed.

Now, it was Batman's turn, it seems.

Danny was standing - more like floating - in front of Red Hood. They were at the Watchtower since Batman did not like Amity coming to Gotham. In his opinion, that would be just calling for trouble, and both Valerie - head of ILE security - and the records of other Batmans said he was not wrong.

"Yeah, this one's fucked up," Danny says after almost three minutes of looking straight at Hood, and the man huffs:

"Thanks, I got that part," he throws back, but Danny just laughs softly.

"No, sorry, I didn't mean it as you personally. Just, like, compared to the other Red Hoods I've met. At least you're not fucked up beyond reason, I can still help you," the ghost boy says cheerfully and claps his hands, "Ready to get rid of the boiling rage in your veins?"

And, before either Hood or Batman can say anything, he reaches his hands inside Jason, and the man tenses up, holding his breath. Batman hovers close - he's read about the same kind of procedure being performed by Danny on other versions of Jason in the files, but reading about it and witnessing it is two entirely different things.

Danny's hands start turning green. The same thing he did with the portal before happens again: glowing, Lazarus green flows up his hands, like veins outside his skin. Only this time, it's not as bright as the portal was. It's murky and dull.

A few seconds later, Danny slowly takes his hands out of Red Hood's chest, and Bruce is really glad he was standing so close because Jason all but falls down to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Batman holds him by the shoulder, keeping him up, but Danny shakes his head:

"No, he better sit down. He's probably gonna feel lightheaded for a few minutes. Oh, and catch," he throws something to Batman, which he catches on reflex. It's a weird, jello-like substance of dark, dirty green color, almost like a stress ball.

"What is it?" He asks, and Danny grins:

"A souvenir. That's his Pit Rage," he nods to Red Hood.

"My what?!" Jason snaps his head to the ball in Batman's hands.

"The parts that made it actual Rage. Think, like, an infection, or a parasite, or just- You know what, it's what you get when some crazy asshole bathes you in ghost sewers," Danny shrugs, completely disregarding the face expressions Batman and Red Hood are giving him. "Speaking of which, do you wanna come with us when we get rid of those Lazarus Pits of yours?"

There's a bit of silence, before Red Hood breathes out:

"Hell, yes."

-------------------------

I'll be writing another part with Amity getting rid of Ra's and Lazarus Pits, yeah. In the meantime, Sam is looking for Constantine to give him a slap on the hand because all the John Constantine's pieces of soul were like a massive jigsaw puzzle to her, considering there's more than one John Constantine and all of them can't stop selling their fucking souls even for a minute and Sam is so done.

Tucker and Tim are nerding out in WE with no sleep or food, Damian gets to play with Cujo, Kon is discussing clones' trials and tribulations with Dani, Jazz is giving Supes a long overdue lecture on how to treat clones, Dan is looking for someone to fight - so far he's found Captain Marvel but he knows he is just a kid so instead of actual fighting they are playing Mario Cart - Val is having fun with Arrows because sharp shooters gotta stick together, and Vlad had abandoned all of his responsibilities and is hiding in Lex Luthor's penthouse, discussing cat breeds and how annoying heroes can be.

Paulina made her way into Gotham without anyone noticing and befriended Harley and Sirens, so Batman may or may not find a particular clown dead when he comes back to his city. Dash is actually not up for trouble, so he is on duty in Amity Park, doing tours for all the curious people who got interested in ghost town and decided to visit. GIW agents are in the process of locating all the Pits, Maddie is elbow deep in a scientific discussion with Martian Manhunter, Jack is upgrading the Amity Ship with all the new tech he's got, and Cyborg is keeping watch on him.

Did I forget anyone? I most likely did.

| <- prev | next ? |

Tag list: @mae-mae-mae @okami-love @fantasticstoryteller @ultra-stormsaga

[thargelalia]

Love at first shot - pt. 1

jason todd x fem!reader

adulting is hard, especially when you need to deal with Gotham's misadventures and its crazy ass vigilantes

or alternatively, this is how you meet Red Hood for the first time

-> +5k words

-> slight dark content, mild angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, strangers to lovers

-> warnings: violence; guns; blood; lots of swearing; mentions of drug dealing, and organized crime; poor attempt at humor; reader is unhinged, don't mess with her; jason looks like could kill you, and he could, but he's also a cinnamon roll <3

The hospital’s fluorescent lights contrast sharply with the dim orange glow of Gotham’s street lamps as you step outside. The cold autumn air nips at your face, a welcome break from the stuffy, sterile environment of the hospital. You’re exhausted but find a small sense of accomplishment as you reflect on your day. 

Dr. Joshi had pulled you aside earlier to express her satisfaction with your work performance so far, and you couldn’t be happier. She did warn you, though, to ‘take it easy’ because professor Chinwe apparently had a chat with her about your tendency to forgo any sense of self-care in order to achieve perfect results. 

Or whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean.

There was no sleeping on a scholarship before, and there’s certainly no sleeping on a residency now. No time for slacking off. You’re not going back to counting pennies to buy subway tickets again. Or choosing between having lunch or dinner because you can only afford one. Or mending shoes countless times until the soles effectively fall off and there’s nothing else to be done. Sure, you’re still not rich. But you’ve managed to successfully move from the dorms into a small apartment in Burnley. That’s a hell of an accomplishment already.

These are some of the thoughts that accompany you home during the bus ride home.

Desperate for a hot shower and yesterday’s leftovers, you climb the stairs leading to the second floor with what energy is left in your body. A yawn escapes your lips as you trudge through the corridor, feet stopping at the mat saying make yourself at home (but remember you’re not there). 

Much to your horror, the door to your apartment is ajar. 

Light escapes through the crack. 

Muffled sounds of struggle and stuff breaking are coming from the inside. 

Also, another thing.

You live alone. 

Shit.

Now, a reasonable person would probably back away slowly and hide, immediately calling the police. 

A reasonable person would be desperate and frightened to the core. 

But you’re not exactly a reasonable person. 

You’re a first year medical resident that spent the day busting your ass off only to come home and find… your cousin fighting – or better, trying to survive – the Red Hood in the middle of your living room.

“What the fuck is going on here?!” You eye the mess of broken vases, dirt spread on the floor, chairs thrown across the room, fallen paintings and shards of glass everywhere, until it stops on both figures at the center of the chaos. Red Hood’s hulking frame is hunched over your cousin, grasping his collar. His other hand freezes mid punch in the air. “Ezra???”

Ezra, your cousin, muttered a weak response akin to your name and a plea for help. Black eye swollen shut and multiple contusions of equal color all over his slender body. You’re surprised he’s not passed out yet. He’s close, though. 

Red Hood drops your cousin to the floor, straightening his posture. He looks twice as big now – if that’s even possible. Dark suit, accents of red on his chest and helmet, looms over you. You’d certainly be intimidated had it not been for the fact that you were fuming. 

These motherfuckers thrashed your entire place.

“This fucking dirtbag is dealing stolen meds and guns through my turf. To kids. He’s lucky I’m not dumping him in the harbor.” A deep modulated voice speaks menacingly.

Oh, yeah. Right. Your family’s aware of Ezra’s illicit activities. Just not the true extent of it. As it’s well known, whoever looks for trouble in Gotham, finds it fast. Or even if you don’t go looking. Like you at the moment. In any case, everyone had already tried to put some sense into Ezra’s head several times, but ultimately he’s a grown man. Dropped out of high school, told everyone to fuck off and said he was now going to do his own thing. 

Sometimes you felt guilty for not trying harder but over the years you realized it’s impossible to help someone who doesn’t want help.

“I can’t even—” you try to process his words, only for your lips to draw back in a snarl. “And what the hell makes you think you’re entitled to kick his ass at my place?!”

“I only followed his tracks here.” Red Hood has the audacity to shrug. “Got the drop on him before he could steal your shit. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Not much to steal now, huh? Is this your way of stopping house robbery?” you’re seething, gesturing wildly around like a madwoman. “Can’t steal what’s broken into pieces, jackass!”

“Your boyfriend told you that?”

“Go to hell!”

“Already did.”

A moan of pain snags your attention to the floor. Damn. You’d forgotten about Ezra. Red Hood approaches him again, seemingly wanting to finish the job.

“Wait!” You hold your hands out to stop him. “Don’t do this. Let me handle him.”

“Nobody fucks with me and lives to tell the story, doc.”

You choose to believe he knows your profession only because he’s seen the graduation pics before getting into action with Ezra. And not because he already had intel on you. Or had stalked you before due to Ezra’s stupidity. 

“Oh, yeah? And how about me? You fucked with me!” Whole face is now burning as you practically yell. “You’ve no idea how long it took me to finally be able to rent a place and buy my own shit! You self-righteous vigilantes need to get off your fucking high horses and actually see the amount of damage you cause under the excuse of ‘helping’! So do me a fucking favor and fuck off!”

You’re out of breath by the end of your outburst. There’s a beat of silence before Ezra starts contorting himself on the floor while coughing out blood. Red Hood looks between you and him, seemingly contemplating his next move.

“As you wish, then. He’s your fucking problem now. But if this son of a bitch shows his weasel face near my turf again, I’ll get him clipped.” You crouch down next to Ezra as the vigilante backs away and swings one leg over the windowsill. “One more thing, doc.”

You snap your head to him. “Play it smart with your words next time. Not everyone will be nice like me.”

Unfortunately, he’s out the window before you have a chance to flip him the middle finger.

“Shit. What am I gonna do with you now?” You heave a sigh, beginning to assess the damage in your cousin’s body. 

There’s a brief moment in which you consider just leaving him there like that and deal with everything in the morning. After all, you’re exhausted and it’s not your fault he got what he went looking for. 

The only thing left to do is to patch Ezra up and get him off the floor and onto the couch as he’s completely out now. His heartbeat and breathing are slow but steady despite everything, so he’ll live. Probably going to need a trip to the hospital to check for internal bleeding tomorrow, though. That is if he wants to, which you doubt. And also if you don’t decide to dump him in the river yourself until then. 

Grabbing a broom, a trash bag, disinfectants,  and other products, you clean what you can from the mess strewn across the place, not forgetting to scrub the small pool of blood off the floor. Good news is apparently Red Hood managed to catch him in the living room and kept the destruction there. Sadly, you’ll have to replace your brand new TV, three of your poor plants, an armchair, a few portraits and chairs. 

Tidying everything up as much as possible, you left to go straight into the shower; falling into bed face first afterwards, not even bothering with blankets. 

Walking into the living room the next morning and discovering you hadn’t dreamed at all about last night shattered your inner peace, anger rushing back in tidal waves. You were supposed to be getting ready for work now but instead you’re calling Dr. Joshi, bargaining to work an entire night shift in order to deal with family business this morning.  

After that, you’re dumping a whole bucket of cold water on Ezra for him to “wake the fuck up, bitch”.

You give him several pieces of your mind, threatening to bestow his face with another black eye to match the other one when he dares to intervene. The only reason why you won’t press charges against him is solely to prevent your aunt and uncle from having a heart attack. 

When you’re done, Ezra only provides a half-assed apology about things going out of his control, arguing that Red Hood is a “deranged psycho on steroids”, and that you should be more understanding of the situation as a family. But when he actively calls you selfish, saying you always got it easy as a student and now as a doctor, and thus have no right to be bitching about money, you lose it completely. 

The feral scream that comes from the depths of your soul is enough to make him bolt out the door without looking back, injuries be damned and all, as you let yourself drop into the wet couch cushions with a sniff.

–//–

It’s the middle of the evening on another day off when your apartment is yet again invaded. 

This time by an enforcer claiming that Ezra listed your name as someone who could pay his trafficking debts. Wonderful. He gave this gang both your home and work address. 

The criminal barged in with a kick to the front door. Not even a peep heard from your neighbors. Not then, not now. 

Rather you than me. It’s the Gothamites way of life. 

You had just finished cleansing and moisturizing your face inside the bathroom when you heard the noise of wood splintering. Not fast enough to hide, the enforcer soon found you, pulling roughly on your upper arm and shoving you into the living room with even less care. 

So, yeah, now there’s a gun to your face. 

Despite your heart beating faster than a hummingbird wings, the knees wobbling, and sweat starting to coat your back, you try not to let desperation completely cloud your judgement. 

The criminal was demanding the cash, threatening to shoot in case you don’t hand it to him, stating he knows you got it, so there’d be no way out of this. Meanwhile, your brain tries to come up with a solution. 

Think. Think. Think. Think. 

Skimming through several mental philes in a flash.

Ah. 

Krav Maga. 

This one might work.

If it doesn’t, then… well. 

Let’s just say it was nice sticking around long enough to watch Beyoncé’s Coachella performance.

Through Delilah’s 144p resolution FaceTime call. But still.

“Oh, my God!” Looking past the guy, you exclaim. Mouth wide open. “Batman?!”

Instant terror cascades his features, eyes bulging out of their sockets, as he snaps his head to look behind him.

In a rush of adrenaline, you act quickly to disarm him by twisting the barrel away with one hand while the other simultaneously pushes his wrist down. You slide back swiftly as the criminal cries out in pain — thumb got caught in the trigger, most likely being broken now. Good. 

“You bitch.” Hand cradled to his chest, he glowers at you in fury from a hunched position. “Got the guts to shoot me now, huh? Aren’t you supposed to save lives?” 

“You know what I do but you don’t know me.” Mustering your best sinister smile, you try to keep a steady grip on the weapon, adding another hand to its bottom. “Hands up behind your neck, asshole. Slowly.”

Doing as told, he winces, trying to plead through gritted teeth. “Put down that gun, sweet cheeks. You don’t wanna do this.” 

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” you start, cocking the pistol. Eyes never leaving him. “You are getting lost. Now. And if you, or any other piece of shit, ever come back, you will pay.” 

“You’ll regret this.” 

“Not as much as you.” A click of another gun. 

Red Hood. 

You’ve no idea how he got here unnoticed but instant relief floods your system. Not that you’ll ever admit it.

Two guns point at the enforcer who’s now positively shaking and sweating buckets. Looking like a helpless sheep cornered by two hungry wolves.  

Oh, how the tables have turned. 

“C’mon, guys… Two against one? Not fair.” A nervous laughter reveals his yellow teeth. “I was just following orders, I swear! Don’t shoot the messenger, as they say.” 

“Just shut the fuck up.” In a swift motion Red Hood swings his gun upward, the solid metal butt striking the enforcer’s forehead, sending him sprawling to the ground. Then he turns. “You okay?”

Unable to come up with words, you simply nod. Lowering trembling hands, trying to take deep breaths as Red Hoods watches on.

“I’ll deal with this bastard outside.” He informs and you nod once again, extending your hand as a silent invitation for him to take the criminal’s glock. 

Tucking it into one of his holsters, he then picks up the unconscious body, throws it over the shoulder like a sack of rice and leaves through the window.

You waste no time in scrambling to the bedroom to find your phone. 

Delilah picks up after a few rings and you feel bad for waking your best friend up as her tired voice sounds through the speaker. 

“Hon, you okay?”

“I-can I..can I crash at your place?”

“Of course… What happened?? You’re scaring me.”

You fill her into all the crazy shit you’ve been dealing with, thanks to your stupid ass cousin, while leaving the details for later. She’s absolutely horrified as expected. Since you’ve both been super busy recently, there hasn’t been a chance to talk about all this. A text seemed inappropriate. 

Delilah asks how you’ll get to her apartment since she’s taken her car in for a revision, and you just tell her not to worry, promising to be there shortly. Ending the call, you hurriedly grab your stuff and throw everything necessary for a couple of days inside a backpack. 

Stepping out onto the sidewalk, you pay no mind to the chilling wind, intending to run as fast as possible to Delilah’s block. 

Out of a sudden, a prickling sensation spreads through your arms, making all the hairs stand up. 

Somebody’s watching you.

As you turn around, you jump when spotting a familiar figure leaning on their shoulder, arms and legs crossed, almost fully concealed by shadows. “The hell you’re still doing here?!” 

“Just tryna scare you. Good to see it worked.” Before you can open your mouth to curse him, his entire bloodline, every vigilante in Gotham city and their predecessors, Red Hood continues on a more serious note, “That son of a bitch won’t be a problem anymore.”

The enforcer. Right. 

“D-did you kill him?” You hate the way your voice wavers. 

“Sure you wanna know?” He leans away from the brick wall and saunters in your direction, causing you to instantly take a step back.

“Seriously, why are you still here?”

He ignores your question, pointing at the backpack strapped on your back. “Where you’re going?”

“Fuck off. That’s none of your business.”

“I just made it my business.”

“I’ll knee you in the groin.” 

At that, his modulated voice makes a weird strangled noise that almost sounds like… 

Wait. Is he laughing at you?

“Tough words for someone wearing a sleeping cap and Snoopy pajamas.” Yep. He’s definitely laughing at you. “There’s more holes in your shirt than in the assholes I...”

You drown out his last sentence, focusing on your lower body. Old white cotton pants and a long sleeved shirt with Snoopy prints adorned your frame. Clearly, in your haste to get away, changing clothes was the furthest thing to mind. 

That means you faced the criminal that broke into your house like this, too.

Placing a hand on your head, you also feel a smooth fabric there.

Immediately, you rip it off.

“I-Fuck. Listen, these actually—” A pause. “You know what? I don’t have to explain myself to you. Fuck off!”

“Pretty sure you already said that.”

“And I’ll keep saying it until–stop staring!” 

His amused chuckle fills the air.

“How do you know I’m staring?” There’s a 99% chance he’s smiling behind that helmet and you just wish you could slap it off his face.

Instead, you huff and walk away, leaving him standing there. More out of frustration and sheer annoyance than to actually ditch him as this would be impossible. Indeed, he manages to catch up easily with his long legs. 

Then, turning on heels briskly, you brandish the pink satin fabric in front of his face. “By the way, this is called a bonnet.” 

“Duly noted, Snoopy.” He’s closer now. Not too much to make it uncomfortable, but enough to fully enclose a large gloved hand around yours. Somehow, he manages to soften the modulated voice. “I know you’re scared. But lashing out at me isn’t the answer, alright? I’m only here to make sure you get to your friend’s place in one piece.”

“I’m not–Wait. Never told you where I was going.” 

“Mmm, you did.” 

“I didn’t.” A gasp of realization leaves your lips. “You were spying on me!”

“My hearing is just sharp.”  

“Unlike your brain, apparently.” 

“Hilarious.” Judging by the flat tone, he must’ve rolled his eyes. “But seriously, let me walk you there. The streets are dangerous at this hour.”

Much to your dismay, he’s actually right. Being out in Gotham by yourself as a woman in the middle of the night is a terrible business. Best not to take any chances. 

“Fine…” You tug your hand back and start walking again, mumbling sarcastically, “what a gentleman.”

“Nope. Not even close,” he drawls, falling into step behind you. 

You don’t say anything back and neither does he. To his credit, he actually keeps a respectful distance. Even when the cold is too much and you halt to produce a jacket from the bag. Only the sound of your backpack rustling echo in the empty streets. Not a single soul in sight. 

This whole predicament is just so uncanny to you. Only a month ago your only knowledge of vigilantes came from sensationalist news outlets or frequent whispers and gossip at work whenever criminals were admitted to the ICU in a coma. 

Like most people, you’ve also seen the bat-signal reflected in the night sky multiple times.

But you’ve never actually seen one of them right in front of your eyes. Twice now. 

You chance a furtive glance behind. 

Thumbs hooked in his utility belt, Red Hood has his attention to the passing houses, leisurely putting one foot after the other as if he’s taking a stroll at the park. 

One would even think he’s distracted. But you know better.  

Feeling watched, he tilts his head in question, prompting you to immediately avert your eyes to the front. 

At some point, he offers to carry your backpack, but gets impatiently dismissed. 

The rest of the walk to Delilah’s block is silent.

“This is it.” You announce when you reach the familiar beige stone building. He patiently waits as you climb the first two steps of the entrance and turn to him, standing eye to eye. “I appreciate your help tonight but I hope we won’t ever see each other again.”

“Ouch.” He clutches his chest in feigned hurt, wiping an invisible tear off the glowing white eyes. “How will I survive?”

“I don’t trust you, Red Hood.” You narrow your eyes, voice coming out more stern than intended. 

Silence. 

“You’re smart.” His tone is neutral. 

“Of course I am.” 

Again, silence.  

He lifts his fingers. 

And flicks. 

He flicks your forehead, completely catching you off guard.

Aside from your pride, nothing hurts, though. 

Then, he’s gesturing to your worn out pajamas. 

“You know, too bad I don’t have my wallet on me right now or I’d give you twenty bucks to replace those rags. Seriously, not even the homeless in Crime Alley—” 

“YOU—”

“I know, I know. I’ll gladly fuck off this time.” He cuts in, leaving the range of your clenched fists by gracefully sliding back. Hands up in mock surrender.  “Take care, Snoopy.”

–//–

After the entire ordeal of being held at gunpoint, nearly robbed, having your place broken in and thrashed, you decided to move to the other end of the neighborhood. A more busy but still fairly calm street. 

That doesn’t stop you from investing in sturdy locks for the windows and front door. 

No uninvited — and highly dangerous — guests this time.

Delilah let you stay with her for the days necessary to pull everything together. Despite the close ties you share, however, you really don’t like feeling like an intrusion. Not that she’s ever been unkind, quite the contrary actually. She loves having people over. The thing is once you get used to having your own space, it’s hard to live around others again.

Amidst the chaos of packing stuff and moving, you managed to take some time to visit your aunt and uncle. According to them, Ezra’s been arrested for drug trafficking, theft, and extortion. They were obviously crushed but understanding that there was nothing else to be done. You tried to show your support while hiding the relief of having one less problem to worry about. 

It’s a Tuesday night when you decide to get cozy on the sofa after an ordinary shift at the hospital. 

You’re tired, but not entirely exhausted. Just an ache in your bones. 

After a relaxing shower, you make some hot cocoa, pick up a book and dim the lights a little until sleep comes to find you. 

Contrary to your expectations, something else does. 

Trouble. 

In the shape of a black suit with a red bat insignia. 

A frantic knock on the glass window scares you into dropping your book to the floor. Scowling as you identify the source of disturbance. 

“Seriously, dude? What happened to fucking off for good?”

You reluctantly slide the windows open before he manages to crack them with his knuckles. He ducks his head in and drops unceremoniously to the ground, arms spread open.

“How did you even find me??” 

Noticing his chest heaving, you cross your arms and wait for him to catch his breath. 

“Need... a.. minute.” It’s all he manages to get out. 

Huffing in disbelief, you close the window and get comfortable on the couch again. No one’s keeping you from enjoying the little free time you haven’t had in a while. 

There’s a sound of careful footsteps. “I swear to God, if you dirty my house with those boots I’ll—” 

“Shhhh.” He lifts a finger to where his lips are, behind the helmet. “Don’t worry, Snoopy. I’ll leave soon.” 

“Still haven’t told me what you’re doing or how you found me.” 

He looks around and points at your armrest. “Mind if I sit?”

Tsking, you shut your book and drop it on the coffee table. “Go ahead. Not like I can stop you anyway.”

A deep sigh comes out as he flops down onto the soft cushions. He adjusts himself on the seat, legs widely spread, evidencing chunky meaty thighs. That’s definitely not a bad sight. Not that you’ll ever reveal this to him or anybody else whatsoever. 

“I know you’re not happy to see me again. But I actually needed to ditch someone. Some people. If you can actually consider them people.”

You lift an eyebrow as he says the last sentence almost inaudibly. 

“Why not just gun them down?” Your question drips with sarcasm. 

He hesitates. “They’re.. fast.”

At that, you shoot up from the couch. “And you risked bringing them here?? What the fuck?!”  

“What? No. No. Easy.” He tries to sound gentle and not make any sudden moves. As if dealing with a hostile cat. “I made sure they lost my tracks on the other side of town.” 

“How can you be so sure??”

“Trust me. I’d never endanger you like that.” 

You fall back onto the couch. Head stuck between hands. Can’t believe you’re in this mess again.

“As for how I found you,” he goes on, thinking as he says, “uuh.. let’s say I asked around.”

“Asked around?” You eye him suspiciously, getting a vigorous nod in return. “To whom?”

“Mmm, I’ve my sources. The same that also let me know your jackass cousin went to jail.” 

“Yeah, that’s right.” A sigh leaves your lips at the reminder. “But being privy to my life without consent is called stalking, you know?”

“I understand. But, hey, I needed to know if you were alright so I could sleep at night.” You can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not. “Felt bad for destroying your things the other day.”

“Well, if you really want to compensate for the damage, start by getting me a new TV.” He laughs and stops when he sees you’re not following along. “I’m serious.”

He clears his throat. “Any preferences?”

“No less than a sixty-five inch screen. 4K resolution. Feel free to choose the brand.”

“Got it.” You’re not sure he actually means it. “Does that mean I get an invitation to visit you again?”

“Ha! Unbelievable. Just order it online or have someone else deliver it at my door.” 

“Why do you even need that big of a TV anyway? The previous one you had was fifty inches.” 

That’s shockingly accurate. How does he remember that? Why did he pay enough attention to that when invading your place to whoop your cousin’s ass? So many questions pop up inside your head but you decide to let them go for now. 

“Okay, creep. You don’t get to call the shots here. I’m the one being compensated, remember?” 

“Fine.” He sighs in defeat, dropping the back of his head against the armchair. Then, he’s looking at you, or rather, your clothes. “I see you finally got new pajamas. Snoopy will be missed. RIP.”

Unlike the long sleeved Snoopy one, this set is composed of light blue polka dot shorts and shirt.  

“For your information, that wasn’t my only pair.” A flush creeps up your cheeks as you grab a throw pillow and place it on your lap, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I own a lot of pajamas.”

“So you willingly choose to dress like an apocalypse survivor?” 

“You’re not really in a position to critique my fashion choices.”  

“Hey, what’s wrong with my suit?”  

“The person behind it.”

He tuts, shaking his head in mock disapproval. “You’re a really irascible lady, huh?” 

“You learned that word today?”

“Yesterday, actually.” His attention is drawn to the book you were reading. He grabs it and examines the pages curiously before closing them. Moving on to the cover, he reads the title out loud. “A Scandal of Bohemia. Sherlock Holmes? You like mystery books? Should I call you Scooby Doo instead of Snoopy?”

“I’m surprised you can even read.” Your eyes roll at his foolishness. “And stop calling me cartoon dogs names!”

“Can’t you just play nice for once?” He puts the book down and reclines, arms braced on the armchair. “Yes, for your information, not only can I read as I actually enjoy doing it very much.”

Contemplating his words, you decide to indulge yourself him by asking, “Well, what do you like to read?”

“Finally curious about me?” The smugness in his voice earns him a dirty look. “Careful. One might even think you’re starting to like me.”

Maybe you are, in fact, irascible. 

“I take it back.” 

“I read pretty much anything as long as it’s interesting to me.” He reveals honestly, not wanting to waste the opportunity of having a civilized conversation with you for once. “Most of it is fiction. Classic, Gothic, Horror…” He stops listing on his fingers to make a dramatic pause. “Romance…”

You blink in surprise. “What?”

“What what?” 

“You said Romance.”

“Yeah, I did. Why?” Jutting his chin out, he crosses his strong arms in a playful attempt to intimidate you. “Got a problem?”

“Nope. It’s just… hmm, unexpected?” You offer with a shrug. “I’m not much of a Romance reader myself, to be honest.”

“I can tell.”

Something about the way he says it so earnestly elicits what could be considered a witch cackle from you. Red Hood watches this whole display in stunned silence until you’re wiping a tear off the corner of your eyes. 

“Oh, wow. Didn’t know you were capable of that.” 

“Laughing?”

“Being human.”

Just like that, your expression closes up again. “Ha-ha. Don’t get used to it.” 

“Right. Back to cranky default, I see.” His words are colored with amusement as he cranes his neck to look at the wall clock near the kitchen entrance. A gasp leaves his lips and he’s suddenly up on his feet. “Shit. Didn’t mean to stay this long. I gotta go now.”

“Oh, okay.” You stand up and check the time as well. It’s almost midnight. 

“Thanks for everything, Snoopy. See you around.”

“See you.” A strange feeling of disappointment settles into your chest after his departure. 

You enjoyed his company tonight more than you’re willing to admit. 

—//—

Not even a week later, you arrive home to see him there again. 

Now, installing a new television in your living room. 

Seventy inches screen. 4k and all that. Just like you requested.

“Honestly. I’m not even surprised anymore.” You say while taking off your coat and hanging it on the wall hooks. “Don’t know why I bothered with getting better locks in the first place.” 

Despite the jab, your voice lacks its usual bite. Only a teasing lilt present in them. It’s nice to see he listened to your demands. 

“No, you did the right thing. The locks are actually great.” He comments absentmindedly, engrossed in the task at hand. 

“Not enough to keep you out, obviously.”

You take in the scene in front of you. There’s a cardboard box and some plastic wraps placed in the corner. At the center of the living room, Red Hood is assembling the TV to its mount on the wall, deeply concentrated. It’s a big heavy object that to anyone, would be awkward to lift alone. Not to him, though. He holds it almost like a freaking tablet. 

That also begs the question as to how the hell he managed to climb up to the third floor and pass through your window while carrying a seventy inch television. 

A lighthearted chuckle diverts you from your thoughts. 

“I’ll leave if you want, though. Almost done here.”

“Oh, no, please be my guest.” You wave him off, going into the kitchen for a glass of water. Then, coming back to watch him work. “You know, I’d offer you something to drink but… the helmet, right?”

“Sorry, Snoopy.” He’s fishing for the TV remote inside the box now. “Secret identity and all that shit.” 

“No, yeah. Absolutely. ” The bitterness within your words seems impossible to be contained. “It’s not like you know my home and work address, my occupation, my family and friends relations, my routine…”

“Okay, okay. I get it.” He winces, fiddling with the remote in his hands. It’s the first time he appears awkward standing in your apartment. “For what it's worth, I’m really sorry.”

After making sure the TV is working properly, he makes his way to the window. 

“Thank you.” You say suddenly, causing him to freeze. 

He turns his head slightly and gives a curt nod. 

“Anytime.” 

Then, he’s gone.

A/N: in case anyone's wondering how Jason managed to get the big ass TV through a window on the third floor, he asked Dick for help. No questions asked.

remember to reblog and let me know your thoughts if you like this!

pt. 2 will be posted soon!

thanks for reading <3

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[elixirina]

Can I request a Jason Todd X Wondergirl!Reader where shes Wonder woman's daughter and side kick?

They were super close and started dating b4 be died as Robin, and they reunite after his revival.

The JL and Young Justice shipped them like crazy, Bruce looked at her like a daughter, and she was also close with Dick and Tim.

Similar to how Dick had Donna, Tim has Cassie, Jason has Reader 💓

It can be smut, fluff, angst, or a combination, I really don't mind, I love all of your work it's addictive 💕💕💕

If you don't mind, you can ignore this aspect if you want, but could WonderGirl reader have long voluminous ginger curly hair? Similar to how Greek Girls in renaissance paintings have? Idk it's just super cute for me.

Anyways, take care and keep doing what your doing 🫶🫶🫶

hello my beautiful anon! i really loved this idea, i incorporated most of what you said, minus the ginger hair (mainly because i want the reader to remain ambiguous)! however, i hope you like it, as i liked it very very much!

# definition of love — jason todd

synopsis — jason is found dead shortly after you began dating. it hit you like a train, and after a few years, you figured you had moved on. guess you’re proven wrong when you spot a figure who looks just like your boy.

warnings — nothing much, a timeline of events kind of, reader is diana’s daughter and sidekick. angst with a happy ending, reader literally having a mental breakdown twice, typical gf losing bf situation maybe a bit worse, reader has some amazonian features, reader's wondergirl suit is like diana's only the colors are like swapped so the top half is blue instead of red and the skirt is red, but the gold remains the same, as does the headband. this was proofread, but i probably overlooked a spelling mistake like always. i don't think there’s anything else

please please please reblog and like 🤍

© elixirina — all rights reserved. my work is never to be reposted, translated, modified, etc, even if i am credited.

seredipity (n.) finding something good without looking for it.

being wondergirl was like a dream come true. you couldn't lie that there were times you wanted to bash your head into a rock because of how stressful it was, but it gave you an excuse to spend time with your mother 24/7.

you were only 13, but your mother had started training you young. she claimed it was for your own protection, but you weren't necessarily sure that was the reason. nevertheless, you obliged and to be honest, it was fun.

getting to spend time with your mother and fight crime? hell yeah! plus, that meant you got to meet the justice league. the idea of it had always flown over your head, but when your mother finally came to you with the idea, you beamed.

luckily for you, that day had arrived as quickly as you had hoped. you were nervous to the point where you were shaking. you had met the young justice before and they were the nicest people you'd ever interacted with, given how close they were to your age. yet, this, this was different.

it seemed way more professional than when you met the young justice.

you stood beside your mother, as she showed you around the justice league headquarters. natural light streamed in through large, arched skylights and tall windows. the sun blared in your face, and it made you feel warm.

could this go any faster?

jason walked in beside bruce in his robin suit. he figured he looked stupid, but he always did when he put on the suit. when bruce had brought up the idea of meeting the justice league, he expected a much cooler headquarters. the hall of justice looked so...bland.

the walls were shade of cream, and a massive, glowing emblem of a shield stood in the main hall. the pair walked on the white marble floor.

in jason's eyes, he looked like a big ball of color surrounded by white. the boy had completely zoned out as bruce walked him through the establishment, talking and talking away.

he had completely forgot where he was when he spotted your flowing hair. he watched as you methodically fiddled with your red skirt. the blue and white on your bodice matched the skirt of the woman next to you. a woman he'd only assumed to be wonder woman.

bruce, unbeknownst to jason's staring, had led the latter over you and your mother, with plans of introducing you and jason.

your mother took notice of bruce's presence quickly, stopping her conversation with you. you watched as the two adults greeted each other with a smile.

bruce averted his gaze to you, looking down at your figure. "you must be y/n. i'm bruce. diana speaks highly of you." his words made your cheeks go warm and you smiled sheepishly.

"i would hope so." you rubbed your bare bicep, your nervousness coming back to you.

the man let out a chuckle, before turning over to the boy next to him. the boy you hadn't even noticed until now. and the minute you did, you felt everything stop. it felt weird, this had never happened before. whenever you met new people your age, you smiled and said hi, but you couldn't bring yourself to do any of that.

his presence hit you like the first bloom of spring after a long, harsh winter.

"this is my son, jason." bruce simply said, and jason's eyes widened, mainly because bruce called him his son, but also because this meant he had to say hi to you and he didn't even know if he could still speak.

you shook off everything you felt and gave the boy in front of you a smile. the three primary colors on his suit and the contrast between his and bruce's almost made you giggle.

the air seemed charged with something electric; tangible yet invisible. you gave him a wave which he very quickly returned. he quickly looked down at the marble floor and you watched him.

you couldn't stop thinking about that the entire day. and to be honest, it made you less nervous about meeting the justice league members. they were incredibly nice, but you just couldn't keep your eye off of jason.

you sure hoped you'd see boy wonder again.

best friend (n.) someone who will stand up for you in the times you need it most. keep your secrets close, and someone you trust with your life.

you were now 14. maybe you had a little crush on jason, but nevertheless, he was your best friend, so that didn't matter to you. what mattered was that you were with him, and he was with you; you sure as hell did not want to lose him.

the two of you sat on a rooftop, your feet dangling in the air. your gold headband held your hair back to the best of its ability as the warm summer wind began to pick up. the sun had set, making the sky a beautiful dark blue and the clock was nearing twelve.

you and jason had always spent your time on this rooftop. it gave you a perfect view of gotham and it was a perfect place for the two of you to escape your parents.

you got lost in conversation on this day, like always. hearing his laugh sent a shiver down your spine like always. you could never get used to it; it was like music to your ears.

in all those moments you'd spent on that rooftop, time slowed, stretching into something so ethereal. it made it so memorable.

talking to him was just so easy, one of the reasons you became friends. he just understood and so did you. he was like a piece of your puzzle you didn't know you were missing. and you loved it. you loved-

"if stars could talk, what do you think they'd say about us?" jason broke the short silence between the two of you. the random question made you chuckle.

you turned your head to face him with a smile, "what?" you tilt your head and jason swears it might just be the cutest thing he's ever seen.

jason grins like a cheshire cat, "i mean like, do you think they laugh at our problems and shit?" he always loved conversations like this. he only ever said stupid stuff to see you smile. every time you smiled, it felt like his heart was blossoming flowers.

"language. and you are so weird." you laughed, your hands gripped the concrete edge of the roof top.

"i am not weird. i just have a big imagination." he quickly defended, throwing his right hand in the air. his left hand, which sat on the concrete edge was lingering closer to your hand; none of you noticed.

you let out a snicker before sitting in a comfortable silence, staring at the sky. only a few stars were visible in the sky, mainly due to the amount of light.

you looked down at your left wrist subtly, a gold watch around it. it was a watch your mother had given you for your 12th birthday. you couldn't recall why you rarely ever took it off, but you were grateful you had it at that moment.

you averted your gaze to the boy next to you who was looking down at his lap with a smile on his face.

"happy birthday, jace."

he looked over, the wind blowing a strand of hair in his face. his eyebrows furrowed for a second before he realized it must've been the next day.

you smiled at him, laying your head on his shoulder. he couldn't keep his gaze off of you, and most of all, he couldn't believe you remembered.

god, he loved this.

lover (n.) 1. a person who is in love with another. 2. a person who has a strong enjoyment or liking for something. 3. a person who loves, especially a person who has or shows a warm and general affectionate regard for others.

"ow. ow. ow." the word became a mantra, a rhythmic complaint that escaped your lips as you lay sprawled on jason’s bed in the manor. the sharp sting in your thigh was unrelenting, a painful reminder of your ill-fated encounter with a kitchen knife and a tray of horribly cut brownies.

the room smelled strongly of antiseptic from the first aid kit jason had torn into moments earlier, the tangy scent mingling with the woodsy warmth of his cologne. that was one smell you could never forget. a crimson gash marred your right thigh, the jagged line oozing blood in slow paths that tickled even as they burned.

jason sat beside you, his expression torn between concern and mild exasperation as he worked quickly to stop the bleeding. the soft rustle of gauze and the metallic clink of scissors filled the otherwise quiet room, broken only by your repeated "ow"s and his hushed apologies.

"sorry, sorry," jason muttered, his voice low and sincere, though his hands remained steady. his jaw clenched as he pressed a clean cloth against your skin, the pressure sharp enough to make you wince.

"remind me to never put you in a kitchen again," he quipped, glancing up briefly with the hint of a smirk.

you rolled your eyes, propping yourself up on your elbows despite the dull ache spreading through your leg. "it was an accident," you retorted, a touch defensive. "i am perfectly capable of knifework."

he raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching as if to suppress a laugh. "yeah, sure. because slicing your own leg is totally a pro move."

"very funny," you deadpanned, though your lips quirked in a reluctant smile. okay, maybe you weren’t the most graceful person when it came to handling sharp objects. blades weren’t exactly in your forte, and your mom was usually the one wielding kitchen utensils with precision.

jason snickered, the sound soft and melodic but undeniably amused, as he leaned closer to inspect the wound. his focus was intense, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his dark lashes framed his eyes or the small scar that laid on his jawline.

the bandaging took longer than it should have—partly because he was extremely meticulous, and partly because he kept stealing glances at you, his gaze lingering a second too long. his fingers brushed against your skin, the contact feather-light yet electric, sending a shiver up your spine.

he tied the bandage in place with a precise knot, tapping your thigh gently to signal he was done. the touch was brief but warm, leaving a faint heat in its wake.

"there," he said, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "all better."

"thanks," you mumbled, sitting up fully and letting your weight settle into the mattress. your hand rested on top of your freshly bandaged thigh, as if testing the sturdiness of his work.

jason scooted closer, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. his presence felt larger than life, his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned in, a quiet tension settling between you. you could feel the air shift—charged, unspoken—but neither of you moved to break it.

he tilted his head, his eyes flicking briefly to your lips before snapping back to your face. "so… do i need to keep you on knife probation, or are you gonna behave?"

you rolled your eyes again, though your smile this time was genuine. "depends. are you volunteering to cook for me forever?"

his laugh was soft, a little breathless. "if it means you don’t bleed all over my bed again? sure."

despite jason’s earlier declaration, the two of you found yourselves in the manor’s sprawling kitchen. you’d insisted on redeeming yourself, though he stood watch like a hawk, his arms crossed and an amused grin tugging at his lips.

“alright prince,” he teased, leaning against the counter. “show me what you’ve got. just… keep the knives far, far away.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, grabbing a whisk with exaggerated confidence. “watch and learn, todd.”

the two of you fell into a rhythm, the kitchen filling with the comforting clatter of bowls and utensils. jason couldn’t resist stepping in every now and then, fixing your grip on a spatula or adding a pinch of seasoning to your mixture.

“bossy much?” you quipped as he reached around you to adjust the temperature on the oven

“Just trying to save b’s kitchen from a second massacre,” he shot back, though his tone was light.

at some point, the two of you devolved into playful chaos. A light dusting of flour ended up on jason’s shirt—your doing, of course. he retaliated with a swipe of chocolate from the batter bowl, smearing it on your cheek with a triumphant grin.

“truce!” you laughed, holding your hands up in surrender.

jason smirked, stepping closer. his eyes softened as he reached out with a damp cloth, gently wiping away the smear. “you’re a mess,” he murmured, his voice low and warm.

your breath caught as his hand lingered near your face. the playful energy between you shifted, the air thickening with something unspoken. his thumb brushed your cheek, the touch feather-light, but enough to send a jolt through you.

“jason,” you whispered, his name barely audible.

he hesitated for only a moment before leaning in, his forehead grazing yours as his eyes searched your face. “i’ve been wanting to do this all day,” he admitted, his voice barely above a breath.

then, without another word, his lips found yours. the kiss was soft at first, tentative, as though testing the waters. but it didn’t take long for it to deepen, his hand cupping your jaw while the other found its place at your waist.

the world around you seemed to melt away, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours.

when you finally pulled apart, his eyes sparkled with a mix of relief and mischief. “you know,” he said, his lips quirking into a smirk, “you’re even worse at baking than I thought.”

you laughed, your forehead resting against his. “we just made out and the first thing you do afterwards is insult me?”

“i wouldn’t call it an insult, just a mere fact.” he replied, brushing a stray hair from your face.

you shook your head, closing the distance between your lips once more.

grief (n.) deep sorrow, especially caused by someone’s death.

jason was missing. at least, that’s what it seemed like. the last time you saw him was two days ago. to say you were worried would be an understatement.

you’d even gone to the manor, desperate to find him, but neither he nor bruce were there. alfred, usually a source of calm and clarity, had only said, “i’m afraid i can’t explain,” before retreating into the quiet dignity he always carried. those words lingered in your mind, growing heavier with each repetition.

now, two days had passed. two painfully slow, gut-wrenching days where time seemed to drag its feet. sleep had become an impossibility, your bed feeling cold and empty. food felt like an afterthought—how could you eat when every thought spiraled back to jason? was he hurt? was he in trouble? was he…?

you didn’t dare finish that thought.

sitting at the kitchen island, you tapped your fingers against the cool marble countertop in a restless rhythm. the sound filled the silence of the house, a constant reminder of your unease. diana stood across from you, pouring hot chocolate into two mugs, her presence steady yet unable to dispel the dark cloud hanging over you.

she glanced up, her eyes soft with understanding. “it’ll be okay,” she said, though her voice wavered ever so slightly.

you didn’t respond, your gaze fixed on the swirls of the marble as though the patterns might hold the answers you so desperately needed.

when diana moved to the refrigerator for the whipped cream, a soft knock echoed through the house. it was almost hesitant, as though the person on the other side knew the weight of what they carried.

your head snapped up, and diana caught your movement, raising a hand. “i’ll get it,” she said gently.

you watched as she walked to the entrance hall, her back straight but her steps slower than usual, as if she sensed what was coming. she opened the door, and the chill of the evening air rushed in, making the hairs on your arms rise.

there stood bruce, dressed sharply in a suit and tie, his presence commanding as always. but tonight, his usual stoicism was cracked, a melancholic look etched into his face.

diana froze, her hand still gripping the door. “bruce?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern. “what’s wrong?”

he didn’t answer right away. his jaw clenched, and he bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes avoiding hers. for a man who had faced countless battles and tragedies, this moment seemed to unravel him. his silence spoke volumes.

diana swallowed hard, her grip on the door tightening. she didn’t press him, though every second of quiet stretched unbearably. finally, bruce exhaled shakily, breaking the silence.

“jason is dead.”

the words hung in the air, heavy and final.

diana’s breath hitched audibly, and she let out a small gasp, her hand flying to her mouth. she reached out, pulling bruce into a hug. he stiffened at first, his shoulders rigid under the weight of his grief, but then he let himself lean into her, if only for a moment.

when she pulled back, her hands lingered on his arms. “what am i going to tell y/n?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

bruce didn’t answer, his gaze dropping to the ground.

how does one tell their daughter her boyfriend is dead?

how does one tell their son's girlfriend he's dead?

your voice cut through the air, startling them both. you stood a few feet behind diana, your brow furrowed with confusion. the cold wind from the open door brushed past you, sending a shiver down your spine.

bruce turned to look at you, and for a moment, the man who was always so unshakable seemed small. his lips parted, but no sound came.

“bruce!” you said, your voice rising slightly as panic crept in. “is… is jason here?” you tilted your head, your fingers fidgeting against your palm.

the way his jaw tightened, the way diana avoided your gaze—it was enough to send your heart racing.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, forcing a shaky laugh. “why are you both looking at me like that?”

diana finally raised her head, tears brimming in her eyes. she stepped closer to you, her movements slow and deliberate.

“mom?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

she reached out, placing a gentle hand on your cheek. her touch was warm, grounding, but the look in her eyes made your stomach twist.

“he’s gone,” she said softly, her voice cracking. “jason’s dead.”

the world seemed to tilt, the weight of her words crashing into you like a tidal wave. for a moment, everything blurred—the sound of the wind, the warmth of her hand, even the beating of your own heart.

“no,” you whispered, shaking your head. “no, he’s not.”

"y/n.." diana began.

you backed away, letting her hand fall awkwardly. "no. no. you're lying," you looked over at bruce who was staring at the ground with such remorse. "you're lying, right?"

his silence was enough to make you sob.

after that day, nothing was the same. the world felt muted, like someone had dialed down the color and sound until everything was a dull, lifeless gray. days and nights blurred together, each one dragging on endlessly but offering no relief.

sleep was an elusive stranger. you spent most nights tossing and turning, tangling yourself in the sheets in a futile attempt to find a position where the ache in your chest didn’t feel so unbearable. when you did manage to drift off, it never lasted long.

the nightmares always came—flashes of his face, his laugh, his touch, and then, nothing. you’d wake up gasping, tears already streaming down your cheeks before you were fully conscious. the pillow beneath you was damp most mornings, a stark reminder of the storm you couldn’t escape.

the days weren’t any easier. you locked yourself in your room, the blinds drawn tight to keep the light out. sunlight felt wrong, almost offensive. how could the sun rise and set when your world had stopped?

your phone buzzed occasionally with concerned texts from dick and artemis, but the effort it took to type a single reply felt monumental. ‘okay.’ that was all you could manage, even though it was far from the truth.

your chest felt hollow, as though someone had reached inside and carved out every piece of you that mattered, leaving behind only a raw, jagged void. every breath was a battle—a sharp, painful reminder that you were still here, and he wasn’t.

the leather jacket he left at your house hung in your closet, untouched except for that one night when the grief was too heavy to bear. you’d pulled it down, burying your face in the worn material, desperately searching for the scent of him, the smallest piece of him that you could still hold onto.

at first, the faint smell of his cologne brought a flicker of comfort, but it was fleeting. the memories came rushing in, one after another, relentless and unforgiving. you crumpled to the floor, clutching the jacket to your chest as sobs wracked your body.

even now, the jacket remained where you’d left it—folded on the floor, too painful to look at yet impossible to put away. It was a symbol of him, of everything you’d lost, and it seemed to radiate its own grief, mirroring yours.

the hours crept by, each one heavier than the last. you existed in a haze of sorrow, your body moving through the motions of life while your mind remained stuck in the past, replaying moments with him like a scratched record. every laugh, every glance, every touch—they were all there, vivid and cruel reminders of what you’d never have again.

a year went by. then two. hen three. the grief hadn’t left, not really—it had just learned to settle in the cracks of your soul. you’d found ways to cope, ways to live. for the most part, anyway. the ache was still there, but it no longer kept you locked inside your house, staring at the ceiling, waiting for answers that would never come.

you started spending a lot of more time with dick. he had been a quiet but steady presence in the aftermath, his support unspoken yet deeply felt. he never pushed you to talk, but he always seemed to know when you needed someone to sit with you in the silence. with him, the weight felt a little lighter, the memories a little less suffocating.

about a year after jason's death, you’d met tim. the new robin. It had been a shock at first—seeing someone else in that uniform, someone who wasn’t him. but tim was different. he wasn’t trying to fill jason’s shoes; he was carving his own path, and over time, you grew close to him. he became another thread in the fragile net that kept you grounded, kept you moving forward.

life continued, in its strange, fractured way. then, one afternoon, everything shifted.

you had decided to take a walk downtown—a simple attempt to clear your head. the streets were bustling, the noise of cars and chatter filling the air. you ducked into a quiet bookstore for a while, thumbing through a few titles before stepping back out onto the pavement. you hadn't been in this particular bookstore in years. the sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over the city.

and that’s when you saw him.

at first, it was just a figure in the crowd. but something about the way he moved caught your eye. the familiar stride. the way his head turned slightly as though he’d caught someone’s attention. your breath hitched in your throat, your heart thudding painfully in your chest.

it couldn’t be. it couldn’t be.

but it looked so much like him. too much like him.

you froze on the spot, your body rooted to the ground as the figure walked away, blending into the crowd. you wanted to move, to call out, but your legs wouldn’t listen. your hands trembled as they clutched your bag, and your vision blurred as tears welled up in your eyes.

you stumbled back into the nearest alley, your breaths coming in short, panicked gasps. leaning against the cold brick wall, you tried to steady yourself, but the world was spinning. you clenched your eyes shut, pressing the heels of your palms against them as though you could will the image away.

it wasn’t him. it could not be him.

but the seed of doubt had been planted, and it was growing, fast and wild, threatening to overtake your rationality.

by the time you made it home, you were shaking. the moment the door closed behind you; the dam broke. you collapsed onto the floor, the sobs tearing through you with a force that felt almost violent.

“jason,” you whispered, his name a prayer and a curse all at once.

the pain you’d worked so hard to manage came crashing back, sharper than ever. you cried until your throat was raw, until your body ached from the force of it. the walls of your apartment seemed to close in on you, suffocating and unforgiving. you didn’t care.

the image of the figure haunted you, replaying in your mind over and over. you wanted to believe it was him. you wanted to believe that somehow, against all odds, he was alive. but you couldn’t let yourself hope. hope was dangerous.

two days passed before you felt steady enough to leave the house. dick had invited you to the manor for dinner, saying bruce wanted to discuss something. you agreed reluctantly, still shaken from what you’d seen, but knowing you couldn’t keep isolating yourself.

seated in the dining room, you looked between bruce and dick, their expressions unusually grim.

“why do I feel like this isn’t just dinner?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood.

bruce sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor. “we’ve been tracking a new vigilante in gotham,” he said finally. “calls himself the red hood.”

the name sent a chill down your spine, but you kept your expression neutral. “and?”

dick hesitated, glancing at bruce before speaking. “he’s... unconventional. brutal. we’ve crossed paths with him a few times now, and his methods are extreme.”

“extreme how?” you pressed, your stomach knotting with unease.

“he’s not afraid to kill,” bruce said flatly. “he goes after criminals with precision and rage. he knows things about us, about gotham, that no one outside the family should know.”

the knot in your stomach tightened. “what are you trying to say?”

dick leaned forward, his voice softer now. “we think he might have a connection to jason.”

your breath hitched, and you gripped the armrest of the chair. “what kind of connection?”

bruce’s jaw tightened. “we don’t know yet. but his tactics, his targets... there are too many similarities to ignore.”

the room fell silent as you processed their words. the figure in the crowd flashed in your mind again. could it really be him?

but no, it couldn’t. jason was gone.

and yet, for the first time in three years, the possibility lingered.

love (n.) an intense emotion of affection, warmth, fondness, and regard towards a person or thing.

you couldn't bring yourself to stop thinking about that day in the bookstore and the dinner at the manor. it hit you like a train. you had truly thought you were over it.

you believed that no reminder of him was going to make you break down ever again. that melancholy and remorse? you thought it was gone. why did it have to be back?

why couldn't you be normal about it? what made this so damn difficult?

of course, you still loved him. you would never stop. you knew that for a fact. but no one told you that grief was so hard.

it felt suffocating. the weight on your shoulders came back and suddenly, you weren't so grounded anymore. god, you wanted to believe he was alive. just to make everything easier. you just wanted the cure to all of this.

your mother noticed something was off when she came to visit you, but you immediately turned her comfort down, saying it was just stress.

she knew that wasn't the case.

nevertheless, she left you alone and later that night, you found yourself in your suit on that very rooftop you and jason loved so much.

your feet dangled off of the concrete edge, staring into the night sky. the sky above was an inky black, its darkness punctuated by a few stubborn stars that managed to shine through the haze of city lights. the hum of the city rose faintly from below, but up here, it felt like the world had paused, leaving only you and the endless night.

from the rooftop, the city stretched out in every direction, its neon signs and glowing windows casting a faint orange haze over the horizon. above it all, the moon hung pale and solitary, its light soft and distant, as though reluctant to reach the ground.

it reminded you so much of him. the ability to talk to him and never know when to stop. he never failed to make you smile or laugh. god, you missed his laugh. you missed his smile and you longed for his smell.

you closed your eyes, and his face came to you, unbidden. his crooked smile, the one that always made your heart skip a beat. the way he used to look at you, like you were the only person in the world that mattered. god, you missed him. you missed everything about him.

he was so good to you, and he was gone.

your chest tightened, the hollow ache inside you growing unbearable. you leaned forward slightly, your arms wrapping around yourself as though you could hold yourself together. the rooftop had always been your sanctuary, but tonight, it felt like a prison.

you leaned back just in time to hear a rather modulated voice come from behind you.

"i thought you would've stopped coming here."

you jumped at the voice, immediately standing up. you gripped onto your lasso which laid attached to your red skirt. the rooftop was dark, save for the faint glow of the city lights below. shadows stretched across the concrete, and the figure in front of you emerged from one of them like something out of a nightmare.

fortunately, the red helmet that covered his head gave it away and ultimately, you knew who you were facing. red hood.

"what do you want?" you simply questioned, straightening your back.

he made an effort to step towards you but stopped when you put your hand up as a way to stop him. he sighed, though it was barely audible. "i'm not gonna hurt you. i would ne-" he cut himself off, looking down at the ground.

you raised your eyebrows, letting your hand make its way back to your side. your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as your eyes locked onto the tall figure before you. you eyed him up and down.

he left no room for questioning when you heard a clank. you looked down at the ground and say that same red helmet that was just on his head, lying on the ground.

you looked up at him and your shoulders slumped. the grip on your lasso loosened and your breath hitched.

oh god, were you dreaming? surely, this couldn't be real.

standing before you was jason todd. your jason. your boy. he had certainly grown, standing at a little over 6'0, 6'1? you could see how toned he was through his suit. his hair was longer than before, and there were faint scars on his still beautiful face.

"baby..." he uttered out, biting the inside of his cheek.

how does one tell their girlfriend that they came back from the dead?

you ran over to him, wrapping your arms around him. you needed to touch him, to feel him. this was your chance. this was the cure. you felt him stiffen a bit under you before completely melting into your touch, wrapping his arms around you securely. it almost felt like he was scared to let you.

"i thought i-" your voice broke as you pulled your head back a bit to look at him. "i missed you, jace." the way his name rolled off your tongue so easily sent a chill down his spine. he missed this. he missed you.

his throat tightened as he looked down at you, guilt and regret written across his face. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, but it filled your ears like a soft melody. you had missed hearing it—hearing him. just hearing him speak to you like this, like he still cared, made everything else feel less heavy.

you tilted your head, your eyebrows furrowed with confusion. god, he missed that. "why?"

he swallowed hard, his gaze never leaving your face. “i didn’t look for you first. i should’ve. and then… i did things. horrible things. i mean, i killed people, y/n. so many people. and i—i don’t expect you to forgive me. i don’t even know if you can.” he paused, running a shaky hand through his hair. “but, but i can change. for you, i can. i just wanted you to know that. i… i just wanted to tell you that i’m still me. i’m still your jason.”

"then, that's all that matters." you stated, placing a hand on his cheek. it felt so much better to touch him. "i can't leave you. not when i just got you back." you sniffled.

you smiled for the first time, and he felt himself turn into jelly. he missed you and he missed that damn smile.

a shaky breath escaped him as his hands cupped your face, his thumb tracing your cheek softly. “fuck, i don’t deserve you,” he said hoarsely.

you shook your head, smiling through the tears that were now falling freely down your face. “you don’t have to deserve me, jason,” you whispered. “you already have me. also, language.”

he shook his head as he pulled you in close, his lips meeting yours in a soft, tentative kiss, as though afraid to push too far. but you kissed him back with all the love and longing you had kept hidden for so long. when you pulled away, both of you breathless, jason rested his forehead against yours.

“i always thought you looked good in red. i could get used to this.” you remarked, referring to the red helmet that was still laying on the red.

he smiled softly, placing a hand on the fabric of your crimson skirt. “got it from you.”

god, you loved this man.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt ~Dead on main~Someone is walking over my grave

Jason sits on his tombstone and thinks about..something.

He lazily washes off the dirt that has been stuck on his army boots after the rain. It covers the year of his death perfectly. Grinning, he puts out a cigarette by using the mentioned stone. The cigarette butt throws between ugly funeral wreaths.

Danny: Hey, asshole, stop it!

Jason turns around. A very angry twink is rushing at him. The notorious crime lord does not have time to react when a fist hits him. Red Hood falls into a puddle. Shit! His favorite leather jacket!

Jason: What the hell are you doing?

Danny: No. What the hell are you doing?! Just because a man is dead doesn’t mean you must not respect him. You’re in a cemetery. Behave yourself, shithead. Or I’ll teach you manners.

Jason: You’re not from around here. Right?

Danny: So what? I doubt it’s normal to wipe your feet using a tombstone. Even in Gotham.

A malicious gremlin folds his arms on a chest.

Jason sits in a puddle more comfortably and pulls another cigarette out of his pocket. Damn, it’s wet.

Jason: If you were gothamite, I wouldn’t have to explain. It’s my grave, idiot. I do what I want with it.

Jason throws useless source of nicotine at his photo with black ribbon. The person who convicted him takes a couple of seconds to compare the vandal to the buried one.

Danny: Aw, shit, man. My bad, I didn’t mean to interrupt your break.

Jason’s eyebrow rises in surprise. From the outsider he expected more screaming and running. Not…apologies.

Jason: Yeah? Tell that to my favorite leather jacket. Now you can bury it next to me.

Bad Jason, bad. That’s not how normal people talk.

Danny: I’ll make amends. Tomorrow, okay? It’s my first working day. I’ve decided not to take my wallet. Need to find a safe route.

Jason: First day?

Danny: Yes, new cemetery guard here in the flesh. But I have not had time to meet all of inhabitants. Mistook you for a bad boy in a story. Well, it is your fault too! I understand you’re upset about death or maybe about the color of wreaths but please just put all the shit in the trash. I’m Danny, by the way.

Jason: Ha, I was wondering why there was no regular dude at work. Probably my neighbors drove him to a breakdown. He was an asshole, so no regrets.

Danny: Do you think so? Mrs Dent didn’t seem restless to me, she was quite nice.

The guy didn’t seem to catch the joke. Or was crazy. Why are all the hot people in Gotham are? Doesn’t matter. Why not try, right?

Jason: Don’t worry about the money. You can repay me with something else.

Danny: So you regenerates the suit? Cool. What do you want?

Jason: Um, I don’t get it, but… as compensation, I’m wanna have your number and one date.

Danny: Sure, why not.

Danny looks at the headstone.

Danny:Can you go outside the cemetery...Jason? The place is romantic, I agree, but where I grew up, it’s not customary to bring a mate at the place of rest until you meet parents.

Jason: Seriously? Cheesy horror movies didn’t teach you not to mess with zombies?

Danny: Well, I’ve never had a partner who was attracted to my brilliant brain. It must be pretty nice. And I don’t mind a couple of love bites, zombie boy.

Danny’s playfully batting his eyelashes. Jason can’t help laughing.

Danny: The less fair opinion among my friends is that I’m just brain-dead idiot. But I think they just don’t understand the benefits of adrenaline addiction, miserable humans. *pretends to wipe off a tear*

Jason *pretends to sniff*: Aw, hell, you really are a brainless doll, aren’t you?

Danny: Even so, it just means I’m perfectly safe.

Jason: Don’t think so. I want a piece of you.

Danny: Then don’t be afraid that the feeling is mutual. My teeth are also quite sharp. And when I’m haunting, it’s not easy to get rid of me.

The cheeky smile has given way to a serious look.

Danny: If we don’t get along, tell me right away, I’m not good at reading other people’s emotions.

~~~~~

Red Hood may be the son of the greatest detective but blinded by love Jason realizes that his boyfriend is quite dead only after a couple of months. He used to think Danny was a little…weird. Well, who in Gotham isn’t? It wasn't a problem. But during a funny fight about ignoring Danny in favor of a conversation with Tim , Fenton goes through him to grab his phone and then shouts that 'ghosting him is racist'.

Jason was delighted that he was able to hide his surprise. His boyfriend was too sweet, but sometimes insecure. Jay didn’t want Danny to start being cautious. Evidently, Honey thought from the first day that Jason knows. Let him keep it that way. Nothing has changed.

But now Danny’s promises to haunt Joker for the rest of his life if Jason wants it stopped being just super-hot flirt. So Jason need to make sure he doesn’t sic his darling poltergeist or whoever Danny is on someone. Even if it sounds good.

~~~~~Family dinner~~~~~

Dick: How did you two meet?

Jason: That’s a great story. My brave man beat the vandal who was messing with my grave.

Bruce: What? Who dared?

Danny: Jason, stop. It’s embarrassing.

Jason: No~ My family needs to know that chivalry is dead. My hero. Jason can’t resist a kiss on the cheek.

Danny: Taking this opportunity, I want to thank you all. It means a lot that you accepted Jason even not fully alive.

Alfred: Nonsense. Of course we..He’s family, no matter what.

Danny: Until the death separates us. Even at a wedding, love is promised only for a while. In parenthood, they do not take any oath about it. You’d be surprised how little past relationships can mean to people and how easy it is to hate what we are.

Danny: Damn, I ruined the mood, didn’t I? Sorry.

~~~~~

Jason: B, with all due respect, back off. You should ask Constantine how to help Danny if his family becomes a problem. Don’t mark my babe as a problem.

Bruce: I asked. And he laughed at me and said that you are the one who need protection. not him. Your Fenton is dangerous. Ghosts of such power only emerge in cataclysms after a large burst of energy or reach this level after centuries of battles or cannibalism and battles.

Jason: Seriously, old man? My boyfriend’s not gonna eat me. I’m not Red riding hood and he’s clearly not pretending to be my grandmother.

~~~~~~

Danny: Hi, honey. what’s new?

Jason noted with satisfaction that Danny had eaten all the supplies he had prepared for him.

Jason: Nothing, but now I have an idea for great Halloween costumes for us. They are gonna drive the old man crazy.

Danny: Did you fight again? What is it this time?

Jason: Guess what, now B’s worried you want to bite off my dick or something.

Danny: First, eew, disgusting. Don’t talk about our intimate life with fucking Batman. Why would he think that? I like you whole.

Jason: Whore?

Danny: Idiot.They don’t even sound alike.

Jason: Just admit that I am an eye candy and kiss me already. I need a break from the madness of my family.

~~~~~

Later Danny blackmails Constantine for information about the interrogation from Batman.

Then he sends a short message to the group chat : Tell the future father-in-law that while Jason can cook, he is safe from me.

The chat explodes from questions of Batclan to Bruce. Jay has great brothers and sisters. Danny knew their chaotic energy could be relied upon.

~~~~~

In the morning Jason yells at Tim. Why the hell did Replacement put "Friends For Dinner" from The Land Before Time as his alarm melody?

~~~~~

Bruce *is suspicious of the ghosts at the wedding*.

GhostWriter: Do not think that we like it. The boy is involved in his own version of Twilight. Oh Ancients, I hope the Ancients don't know about it.

Clockwork aka one of Ancients: Come on, that’s sweet. And story will have a happy ending. I guarantee.

~~~~~

Jason's in a date simulator with no chance of losing when everyone thinks he’s in a horror game. Is Danny dangerous? Yeah. Did he hunt when they first met? Who knows. The main thing in the middle of the conversation Danny realised he found a creature with a similar sense of humor. So that made Jason 10 out of 10 aka soulmate and he would kill for him.

[vamph00n]

sunghoon in leather and looking vampy as ever, please give your thoughts, i’m going FERALLLL

⁺‧₊˚†ཐི Sunghoon In Leather ཋྀ† ˚₊‧⁺

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ╰➤ wc:921

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ╰➤ tags: suggestive content, nsfw smut tags under the cut.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ╰➤ note: thank you anon, i would write a whole fic of this if i wasn’t busy/lazy.

mdni 18+

smut: implied, multiple orgasms, blow job, dubcon?

“Wow Sunghoon, you have a lot of clothes.”

Your voice had rung in his ears as you looked through his wardrobe. Yeah, he had a lot of clothes, especially for a guy who defaulted to the same few shirts and pants all the time.

There he sat laid back in his bed, eyeing you as you had gone through his stuff as per usual. He’d never let you know that he was quite particular about how he kept things organized, it was just nice to keep you around. If that meant letting you be nosy, so be it.

Amongst the many button-up dress shirts and slacks, to find something— oh? On the hanger, it draped pretty, a deep black, and shiny. Laces down the middle, and risqué fastens.

“See now— what’s the point of having cool clothes and never wearing them?”

He watched you fling the the garment(s) on his bed. There was an absolute reason why he never wore those. They’re leather.

…

You had pestered Sunghoon greatly, “put them on” you’d coo, “i wanna see.” Climbing atop him on his bed, shoving the set in his face. You really, really wanted to see him in it. He knew he could never say no to you, the sweet friend he barely remembered why you were at his place to begin with. His pretty friend he had some not so innocent thoughts about. His very insistent, very hot, friend. Who never once, threw him a bone, a lick of attention before.

The way your body is so daringly close to his, it’s a wonder you can’t practically feel the tent growing in his pants, he can smell your hair. It makes him fucking hard.

“No—No, i can’t put them on, they… doesn’t fit right.” He winces, as if he’s in pain. The strain agaisnt the fabric of his boxers makes his head reel. Curse his cock for acting up at the mere smell and warmth of you. The act of you giving him that attention he never expected. So foreign.

Plopping back down on his bed, tilting your head at him almost mockingly, a rise in his chest stirs. You click your tongue, looking at the crumpled garments next to him. “You know what I think Hoon?” Fucking hell, he can’t stand when you call him that. Makes his stomach twist, and pale cheeks flush with color. You grin a mischievous smile.

“I think it fits too well.”

It’s crazy, testing, teasing, calculating. It sucks because it’s like a knife to his ego, and he cannot for the life of him utter a single “no” to you, even if it meant saving his life. Well, at the moment his pride.

You wiggle your foot around on his tented pants right on the faint outline between his legs, his body jolts in reaction. Sunghoon had so hoped you didn’t notice it, then again, it was rather hard to hide. Your laugh rings in his ears, sensitive, so damn sensitive. He immediately gets a pillow and covers his bulge almost completely hidden by his baggy pants. “F-fuck you can’t do that!” His weak voice muttered just above a whisper.

“What baby? have something to hide?” You snort between sentences. “Or lack there of?”

He gets up almost immediately, and takes the leather pants and jacket aggressively. He eyes you down scowling, yet you know deep down his little self worth had been deflated. The giddy look on your face when you get your way makes him loath how he wants nothing more than to prove you wrong.

Only to know he’d be buckling at the knees for you any given moment.

…

He watches you swallow dryly, is it hot in here or…? The buttons, the leather, all dark and shiny. Contrasting against his pale skin, it’s a sight paired with his unkempt hair. He looks good, too good. The leather clings to his body, and the jacket is cropped. Shit, his waist is so tiny, that part of you wants to hold it. You want to feel it whilst you taste— the main accessory of the outfit.

A snide look casts on your features, and he stands there awkwardly. Hands covering the scandalous fastens of the pants, failing to hide the thing that lay thick and heavy against his leg. Nearly halfway down his thigh, the composition of the light and shiny material enhances his pulsing need.

“Don’t hide it.”

he had watched you take his jittery hands away from his crotch, your own gripping his thighs and face so close to his dick— he could feel your breath through the rather unbreathable material. Now, hands bruising his waist, and gliding your tongue across the outline of his length suctioned along the expanse of his thigh; he whimpers. Utters out a pretty, and needy sound.

You were never overtly suggestive with him ever. Like at all. Which makes the act of you pushing him onto his bed and virtually ripping his pants off exceptionally hotter.

He’d ask under shaky breaths, “why? Why now?”What made you want to. It almost annoyed you how many times he asked you, even after you so generously sucked his cock dry for the third time. His legs quivering, and your mouth tangy with the aftertaste of all his cum.

Why did you do it?

Seeing him clad in leather was hot, getting him out of it was easy, and getting him off; was hotter.

copyright vamph00n 2024 / like and reblog

[rklve]

RAINY DAYS | JEON JUNGKOOK - PART ONE

summary: your life choices left not only yours, but jungkook's heart broken in peaces. now you're back in town, and just like pluto, even if it's cold and dark, he tends to orbit around his sun forever.

➣ pairing: jk x f!reader

➣ genre/au: exes to lovers; angst; slow burn; fluff; smut (eventually).

➣ 3.4k words

warnings: e2l. oc broke koo's heart :( but she did not mean it. they both overthink too much. jk is such a pet dad (BAM IS HERE YAY). oc is a confused mess. mutual pining. cursing. a lot of angst (sorry!). jungkook is a simp, head over hells crazy about oc. fluff bc why not. tae is bitter asf but he's right on this one. jk is the best boy I WANT HIM!!!!!!!!!!

song inspo: rainy days — V

wish I knew how to find the way right back to you, on rainy days like

part one | part two | drabble one

“I can't take it anymore,” Jungkook says as he stumbles for the seventh time on his feet walking around the living room “I’m losing my mind, Bamie.”

The dog looks at his owner with his head pointed sideways as if he understands what he’s been sorrowing about for the past 10 minutes. The rain pours angrily outside the apartment, Jungkook sighs as he realizes talking to his big ass puppy won’t solve any of his problems.

“She’s like, 5 min away from us, Bam! I should text her, right?”

He looks over his phone again, your instagram story is open and a picture of a window full of raindrops is seen — he knows where you’re at, you’ve both been to that coffee shop over a hundred times for the past years now. Can’t remember the last time he’s been to that place ‘cause he couldn’t stand the thought of being there without you. Now he’s wondering, wondering, wondering. Wonders if you’re back for real this time. If you are alone. If you are thinking about him too. Wonders what would happen if he just replied your story right now.

@jeonjk97: heard it’s the best caramel macchiato in town 👍

No— that’s too lame. Quickly erases the message.

@jeonjk97: want a ride home? it’s pretty bad outside. 

Throws his phone on the sofa as he realizes he doesn’t know if you would accept his offer, doesn’t know if you’re sharing an apartment with Lola again either. Realizes he doesn’t know anything that’s been going on with you for a while now. More than what you let your 897 followers on Insta know too, at least. Blames himself for it, but knows it was for the best. Misses you like a fucker anyway.

“I should just call her.”

He picks up his phone, then also realizes he deleted your number months ago so he wouldn’t call you whenever his drunk ass thought it was the right thing to do. 

“For fucks sake, grow some balls, Jungkook” he whines angrily at the air purifier as if it is the source of his problems. “Okay, Taehyung will know what do.”

He calls his best friend quickly, and prays Taehyung picks up before he grabs his car keys and drives himself to the colorful little cafe at the end of the street. Remembers how much you loved that place and the cookies they served. One caramel macchiato with extra topping and two medium chocolate cookies. You always ordered the same thing. Every damn time. Said it was in you, to never let go of the things you loved. You let go of him anyway.

“Jungkook-ah! Why are you calling? I told you I can't go out—“ 

“She’s back in town.” He cuts Taehyung abruptly and suddenly the other line is mute as well. Probably doesn’t believe it’s happening just as Jungkook didn’t believe himself minutes ago. 

“Man, are you sure? Like, back for real?” he says, and Jungkook swears he can hear the disbelief in his tone from the other side. Yeah, he knows Taehyung is full of his late night calls to talk about you. Knows he is the one that’s been listening to it for months now —besides from his dobermann, of course— he’s the one who gets it, ‘cause he’s the only one who feels bitterly betrayed too. You were one of his best friends and yet, he didn’t knew your plans to move out from Busan as well. 

“Aish, I’m not sure hyung. But she posted a picture a little while ago at the cafe down the street.” he blurted out, “Can’t even think straight now, man. You think she’s back for the holidays?” 

Taehyung wondered for a little while. It was still August, Chuseok was weeks later. He didn’t say it out loud, but it wasn’t like you to drop work for so long, even if it was to visit your hometown. Nevertheless, he didn’t want Jungkook to get his hopes up. He knows how he is. Doesn’t want to see his friend’s heart breaking all over again.

“Mmm. Maybe, don’t know.” he sighed out loud “I thought we agreed to unfollow her after the second month.”

He hears Jungkook’s sad chuckle on the other side of the line, “Yeah, we did.” 

Taehyung knows Jungkook wouldn’t bring himself to do it tho, and now he just confirms it. Being a little bit more resentful than Jungkook gave him the motivation to do so, but it doesn’t mean he hasn’t been missin’ your ugly face. 

“Ok, so I need you to refresh my mind now. Tell me something so I won’t step outside that door right this second and make a fool of myself.” Jungkook continues to talk as if he’s been charged on 220W. And maybe he was. His heart has never beaten so fast for the past twelve months. His hair is all over the place from the countless times he grabbed it since he saw your photo. The tip of his fingers are tingling. Yeah, maybe he’s been electrocuted or something.

“Go.”

“What?” Jungkook says in disbelief. Doesn’t think he hears straight, ‘cause Taehyung would be the last one to say such a thing. 

“I said go, Jungkook.” he sighs for what it seems to be the tenth time on the phone call. “I know you need this. You haven’t been yourself for so long now. You two have to talk properly at some point.”

“Ay, how frustratin really—” he tsks.

“For real, man. Go. Now.” he firmly says “What’s the worst she can do, leave?” Jungkook senses the bitter words coming from Taehyung’s mouth. He knows he’s not mad at you, just hurt. Knows Taehyung would forgive you in a heartbeat if you said how sorry you were for everything that went thru. Wonders if he would forgive you that easily too. But he knows his friend is right. He needs closure. Needs this.

“Yeah. Right.” he bites his lips and looks around. Sees Bam looking at him, as if he’s expecting an action from him too. “I’ll talk to you later, bro. Thanks.”

He turns off the phone and grabs his car keys tightly. Yeah, he’s doing it. Won’t think too much, it’s better this way. He will get in the car, drive for 5 minutes. Enter the coffee shop. Order. Pretend he doesn’t know you’re there. Eventually look over the spot he knows you’re at, the same table over the corner where you two always used to sit together, by the large window. Grab the coffee and go over casually, ask how you’ve been. Offer you a ride home —to your parents, probably, since you moved out from your apartment on the neighborhood for a while now. Say it’s because of the rain, he knows you hate to ask for Ubers on the rain. Didn’t trust just anyone driving on bad weather. Such a smart girl. He misses the shit out of you. 

“Damn, ok. Pack it up, man.” 

He calls Bam to his house and watches as the dog quickly follow his lead, as if he knows Jungkook is too anxious to play around right now. “Dad will be back soon, okay? Behave.”

And so he checks out his hair one last time on the mirror at his bathroom and goes before he changes his mind.

The drive is pretty quick. It’s actually a route he does walking, but it’s still pouring rain so he’s carrying on. On a rainy day. To a coffee shop. To get a coffee he could have made at the comfort of his home with his own little coffee machine. But it’s okay, he will just play pretend for this time.

He stops the car and just realizes he forgot his umbrella. “Are you fucking serious, Jungkook?” 

Great. Brilliant. He feels so fucking dumb right now. 

Thankfully, due to the cold season he was wearing his black sweatshirt and sweatpants so the rain wouldn’t do so much damage. He quickly got off the car and ran inside the cafe. 

Surprisingly, it was full for a rainy night. Perhaps everyone had the usual thought; too lazy to make their own foods, they step out to grab something warm on the best coffee in the neighborhood. 

Jungkook plays the script on his head over and over again as he whipes his hair side to side like a fluffy dog to get rid of the water that soaked it a little bit. 

He looks ahead to the counter and his mind goes blank as he sees you over there now. At the little chair on the middle of the cafe. You seem lonely, messing with your hair a little bit, making a braid with a single tiny lock. It’s an old habit to make time pass, and Jungkook hates he remembers every little detail about you. His heart now has stopped, dropped to his knees. He really misses you. 

“Bee!” the waiter calls, and Jungkook recognizes the nickname. Knows it’s you, ‘cause he’s the one that gave it to you years ago. Used to call you bee just to make fun of you, ‘cause you’re such a sweet tooth. Never met someone that loves sugar more than you do, so he started to call you that since you two became friends.

He watches at the end of the waiting line as you get up, straight your hand and pick up two cookies in a little pink plate. Chocolate chips cookies. Your favorite. His favorite as well.

You start to eat slowly so he averts his eyes. Doesn’t want to be catch staring and look like a fucking weirdo. It’s not like he drove here to see you. Talk to you. Not at all, the coffee here is great. 

Finally the line walks and it’s his turn. “One black coffee, please. No sugar.” He says softly and suddenly feels his neck start to tingle. Knows you just realized he’s here, and you’re staring at him. Pretends he doesn’t tho, so continues to talk to the waitress as she asks who she would call when it’s ready “JK.” he says, then turns around to look for somewhere to sit and wait for the order. Looks over the table that you originally were, the one you posted a photo of. Then realizes now there’s a couple there, laughing together and taking pics of each other. He knows you. Knows you most likely offered the clingy couple the table, cause the house is full, and you wouldn’t take the table just for yourself. Even if it meant you would end up eating by the counter on the little puffed chair, you loved to drool over the pastries anyways.

He slowly looks the other way. Knows you’re on this direction so he has to be careful. You’re looking down. Seem sad all of the sudden and he just wants to hug you. For fucks sake. This is harder than he thought. 

He sighs again as he realizes the only spots available are the 2 chairs on your right. He chooses the one that’s a little bit far just to be safe.

As he walks down, his chest tightens a little bit more. Now he doesn’t know what he’s doing here. It was a bad idea. Doesn’t even remember what the plan was at the first place. 

He can smell your perfume as he walks past you and it’s like someone punches his stomach. Your sweet smell fills his nostrils and he just wants to be closer. Shove his nose on your hair like he used to. Then go down your neck and feel your skin respond with little goosebumps as he moves along it softly. Damn it. Jungkook wants to curse the life out of you but he can’t even bring himself to be mad right now. Only knows he misses you. Your touch. Your kiss. You.

Finally he sits and pretends as if he didn’t notice you there, continually looking over his phone as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world trying to figure out what to do next.

“JK!” The waitress calls him and he’s put out of his own world, looking up right away. You seem to be startled too as you look directly at him. You two look at each other for what seems to be minutes in a trance. You give him a tiny smile. He gives one back.

“JK!” he hears the call again and pulls himself out of the trance, going to grab the coffee from the waitress who’s on your left side. He pays for it and looks at you again. You’re still looking at him. Kinda unsure on how to act, he figures. It’s okay, cause he doesn’t know how to either. 

As he sits, now on the chair closer to your right, he looks straight ahead and takes a gulp of the coffee. “Fuck!” he curses and pulls the coffee cup away as he burns his tongue with the damn thing.

You laugh thru your nose and his ears rapidly catch the sweet sound he used to hear all the time. Looks sideways to you, “Funny, huh?” he feels the air a little bit less heavy now, and he’s relieved.

“You just never change, Koo.” you say, still with that damn smile on your face he adores so much. He can’t take his eyes off of you. Realizes he never got over you, not even for a second. Probably never will.

“Don’t call me that.” those damned butterflies on his guts as he digests what you’ve said. You know it’s his favorite nickname. Knows only you call him by it. Knows he melts alway with this shit everytime.

You’re staring at him like that. So pretty. Soft brown sparkly eyes he missed so much. Now they seem to start hardening. “I’m sorry.” You say with a broken voice, and he feels the air shift all over again in a matter of seconds. Doesn’t know if you’re apologizing for the sweet nickname. For leaving him. For not calling. For not coming back. For everything. 

“How’s everything?” He tries to ease the air back again. “It’s been a minute.”

He sees the corner of your lips tremble a little bit and you gulp. His chest pangs. Wonders if he did the right thing by pretending you never existed for the past months now. Just wants to make up for all the time both of you lost.

“Yup, it has.” You reply after a while. “I’m doing okay. What about you?” 

You look up at him like everything is okay. If he didn’t know you, he would believe you were. But he knows better. You can’t hide anything from him, really. At least that’s what he thought. Knows he could be wrong, just like he was a year ago too.

“Cool. I’m cool.” he licks his dry lips and starts to think about his next move. Mind starts to blow up, a trillion thoughts at the same time and he’s back at it again. Can’t put his neurons to work properly. You’re actually right here in front of him, how is he supposed to?

Seems like you’re struggling yourself too. He doesn’t know if you’re trying to come up with an excuse to leave right now, or trying to find a subject in common as well.

 You stare at your now half eaten cookie like it’s the most valuable thing in the world. The other one is already on the bag to go. You probably were planning on taking home to eat when the late night sweet crave hits you, like he remembers. Will put it on the microwave so it gets warm again and take a cup of milk with you, like you used to. Turn on netflix and watch one of those lame cooking programs, ‘cause you loved to waste your time watching people losing their heads to make giant chocolate sculptures. He secretly loved watching it with you. It’s the reason he watched every episode back and forth while you were away too.  

“Is Bamie okay?” you murmur, now staring at your coffee cup with a little smile, thinking about the little puppy. Remembers how energetic and loving he was. Just like Jungkook. “You haven’t posted him in a while now.”

His tongue feels bittersweet again. He’s somehow happy knowing that you’ve been catching up with his life throught social media, even tho he disappears once in a while. At the same time, he’s sad. You could have been there for Bam. Should have, since you are the one who came up with the idea in the first place. Said he needed a little friend to match up with his chaotic energy. He ended up convinced and adopted the little guy. You always tended to get the best of him. Promised you’d help him to take good care of the baby, but only spent three months with Bam. Still, it’s like the puppy knows something is missing. Every night he looks over the door at any noise, like he’s expecting you to come throught it. Just like Jungkook used to do for the first months back then. 

“He’s great, actually. Bigger than I expected him to be. Eats like a fucking bear.” he giggles a little remembering his big boy. “He’s loud too. Don’t know how the neighbors still haven’t ganged up against me to kick us out of the apartment.”

You giggle alongside him imagining the chaos those two must have been doing together. “I figured. You always have spoiled him too much. Told ya he would get bad habits.”

“Hey! You spoiled him too!” he throws it right back. Remembers how you used to let Bam sleep with the two of you on bed. It took him months to break that habit from the puppy’s routine.

You look up at him and smiles. Bright now. You know he’s right. You’ve treated that puppy like it was your own son. Kinda misses the three of you together like a big happy family.

Suddenly a loud thunder is heard and both of you look out the foggy window at the same time. The sky is even darker now, angrily pouring rain like it’s the end of the earth. The coffee shop is emptier. Everyone outside your bubble must’ve realized that it was no longer safe to be out in the streets. But here you two are. Letting time pass by, enjoying each others presence even if it’s kinda weird. Kinda sad after all these months apart.

Jungkook knows it’s time to act. Step up and do what he was planning since he left home. Can’t bring himself to. Is too scared you will say no. Too scared you will let him down again. 

“I think I should get going.” you say softly wrapping up what is left of the cookie and putting it on your bag over the counter. “The weather is getting worst.”

“Want a ride home?” Jungkook quickly says before he looses the sudden courage. Sees you're taken aback so he continues, “I know you won’t be able to catch an uber or taxi right now.”

You still wonder a little bit. Jungkook’s anxiety is bubbling up again as he waits your answer. Why can’t you accept a simple offer? You can’t stand the thought of being around him? Do you hate him? Perhaps you don’t want him in your life ever again. You want to stay like this. Just be somebody that he used to know.

And that’s what scares him the most.

“I brought an umbrella” you finally say. Jungkook frowns. Knows you have no umbrella with you, he would’ve seen it by now.

He puffs. Knows it’s bullshit, but won’t call it. “Right. Suit yourself.” Then he gets up, forgets his full coffee by the counter, now cold. He feels fucking cold too. Already regrets coming to this stupid cafe, in this stupid weather, for no stupid reason. He takes his sweatshirt off and puts it over his head so the rain won’t get to him this time. Opens the door.

“Jungkook! Wait!” you suddenly say. “I actually didn’t.” you say pouty, coming up to him.

He doesn’t say anything. Just takes his sweatshirt, puts it over your head instead. He was wearing his taegeuk warriors jersey underneath it, will definitely get soacked but can’t bring himself to care at all. Just cares about you. Holds the glass door for you just like old times. You look up at him with your big doll eyes and he can’t do anything but look back. It’s like you want to talk through them. He wonders what’s going through your pretty little head right now. Probably overthinking too much, just like he does. 

“C’mon," he softly says "Let’s get you home.”

yayyy there it goes! my first ff ever i'm so happy <3 this was supposed to be an oneshot but i got carried away and wrote more than i expected so i had to cut it off hehe

also, please be aware that english is not my native language so i’m sorry if there’s any typos 🥹

i'll upload part 2 soon! if you want to be tagged pls comment under the post :) thanks for reading xx

[itssliyahhxoxo]

𝐂𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡

(𝐁𝐖𝐖𝐖)

(𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐆𝐄 𝐗 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐑)

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Paige dose an interview were she gets asked about her celebrity crush’s and your name comes up

You were out with some friends when you got the message from you agent she had sent you the video of Paige. You read the comments and saw all the fans going crazy for no reason at all.

You’ve heard of Paige but never really paid any attention to her. “Yo look at this” you’re friend yelled over the loud music she showed you a picture of you and one of Paige’s pictures together on some fan page “damn they fast” you mumbled.

You looked back to your friend “I’ll deal with it later” you walked away to get another drink.

It was now the next morning you were back stage getting your hair and makeup done before your interview with jimmy Fallon for your new movie that’s coming out next week.

“Soo what going on with you and Paige bueckers” you’re makeup artist smirked looking at you in the mirror “what” you looked up.

“Everyone’s talking about you too like you the next big thing” she giggled “no their not,it just happened yesterday” you shook your head “go on twitter and see for yourself” she told you before she left finished with your makeup.

You paused And thought for a minute before giving up and going on twitter. There were pictures of you and her everywhere you couldn’t help but laugh going through the comments.

User18: they would be so good together

User3649: y’all are crazy they don’t even know each other like that.

|

User65: so you never know 🤭

Show more

You laughed to yourself before getting up and leaving your room to head on stage. You waited to be called out standing to the side as jimmy started talking about you and your appearance tonight.

After his speech you were brought out you waved to the crowd smiling. Before taking your seat you and jimmy hugged and and shook hands.

“So how do you feel about your movie coming out next week” he asked “nervous” you softly laughed “why” he laughed “well it being my first movie I’m kinda shitting my pants” you laughed everyone laughed with you “any spoilers, you can give us” he smirked.

“spoilers” you thought out loud “not really but there is a Sean where things get a little..” “spicy” he finished for you “yeah” you laughed blushing.

“I hate to get off topic buttt,you and Paige bueckers” he dragged out. The whole crowd went crazy making you roll your eyes with a soft smile.

“Anything you have to say about that” “unfortunately no I’ve never really had any conversation with her nor met her in person I would love to one day though” you answered.

The interview went on and on some questions about the movie and your music and some about you and Paige again.

A few weeks went by your movie was off the charts everyone was talking about it, you would have thought the Paige thing would have went down but no it got worse.

You were laying down on your phone when you’re friend cam in “guess whatttt” she sang “what” you looked up.

“I got us tickets to a basketball game” she smirked “cool what team” you got up and walked past her not paying attention “come and find out” she smirked .

You walked into the stadium looking around confused recognizing all the colors, you froze when you heard the crowd screaming the teams name..UConn.

“Why the hell would you bring me here” you softly shouted towards your friend “what don’t you wanna meet you future wife” she smirked pulling you to your seats which were in the front.

You grew nervous as you noticed some people in the crowd noticed you,they started talking pictures and videos you softly smiled and waved at them.

“I’m going to kill you” you mumble as the game started.

It was almost half time when Paige’s eyes caught yours you softly smiled at her,she looked away softly blushing “ouuu” your friend laughed “shut up” you laughed.

The game went on and on it wa the last round UConn winning with 113 points and the other team losing with 87. The ball was in Paige’s hands,with only 10 seconds left she threw the ball making it into the net

You smiled clapping happy they won.your were on your way out when some fans came over stopping you for some pictures,you sighed as they walked away.

“Hey” you turned around only to be met with the bluest eyes you’d ever seen “hi..Paige right” you nervously smiled “y-yeah” she answered “you were great out there” you pointed out “thanks,you to-I mean” she mumbled.

You smiled watching her blush “I’ll see you around bueckers” you slowly walked away as she watched mouth slightly open speechless.

(𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐥🌚)



[urhoneycombwitch]

shrine of your lights

🍯 honey flavour: edibles and a church wedding to attend. what could go wrong with Eddie as your plus one? 

🐝 the bees: FWB!Eddie x reader 

wc: 4.8k

content warnings: a smidge of Catholic blasphemy, weed usage, friends w/ benefits Eddie, R is a bit of a love (and relationship) skeptic and Eddie is lovesick, R+E are in their 20’s, pining, public sex (no one but them observes tho), R has hair long enough to tuck behind ears, R gets a hickey but skin tone/color is not described, R has breasts and a V, softdom Eddie, marking kink (?)

foreword: I listened to Say You Love Me by Fleetwood Mac for this. LOL. kind of AU bc it’s a few years after ssn 4 and everyone is alive and just fine (lovesick but oh well can’t b helped) based on this anon thank u for inspiring me!!!!

The stained glass window in front of you looms tall, afternoon light streaming through and casting a kaleidoscope of colors on the polished wood flooring. You stretch out a hand into the warm beam of sun, admiring the way the colors catch and bounce off your dainty star-chain bracelet.

When Eddie had suggested you two eat some weed brownies as a precursor to your (very distant, very Catholic) cousin’s wedding, you hadn’t quite expected to get as stoned as you are now. Since Eddie hasn’t attended any major life functions sober since 1981, and seeing as how you refuse to step foot inside a church space without some sort of social lubricant, the weed wasn’t a hard sell at all. 

To be fair, Eddie had warned you of their potency, and you had snuck another quarter of a brownie when his back was turned: but christ, your tolerance must be crazy low or something, ‘cuz a window has no right to be this mesmerizing. 

You’ve been staring at it for the past five minutes, in your own little world while a steady stream of wedding guests file in through the big oak doors and mill about before the ceremony. The warm, still air of the church is heady with the smell of fresh florals and incense, and a line of votive candles flicker and wink against the windowsill.

Casting a glance over your shoulder, you see Eddie’s still speaking in gentle tones with an elderly woman (whom you’re likely related to, hard to say) near the foyer, all charming smile and sincere hand pressed to the slip of bare chest his button-down displays. You’ve got to hand it to the guy, he’s really great at endearing himself to total strangers; he’s been a natural shoe-in for any plus-one you’ve needed over the past few years.

While Eddie is perfectly in his element, holding what looks to be an engaging conversation while stoned to all hell, your focus is drawn back to the window. You should probably be on the arm of your guest, seeing as how it’s your family wedding after all, but the swirling lights and colors are too alluring to pull yourself away from.

“Beautiful piece of art, isn’t it?”

The voice behind you is unfamiliar, and proper social graces here would call for an introduction, perhaps a firm handshake, but your limbs and tongue feel so loose and the reply is out of your mouth before you can think twice- “God, yeah. S’fucking gorgeous. I want one for my house.”

There’s a light cough, and when you turn on your low-heeled Mary Janes it’s under the amused eye of a priest- in full priest-garb. Green velvet robes and little hat and everything.

You realize your error- swearing and taking the Lord’s name in vain- but the brief stint in Catholic school from when you were 6 is unfortunately not recalled in time to stop the scramble of swears mixed with apologies that come tumbling out. 

“Oh shit- I mean- fuck. Oh god. Sorry, Father, I didn’t mean-”

The priest- old as hell but thankfully with sense of humor still intact- smiles kindly at you and takes your hand in both of his, patting graciously. “No apologies are necessary, my dear. The beauty of God can be overwhelming and awe-inducing.”

You nod jerkily, grabbing on to his excuse- “Yes, yep. That’s exactly what happened. Struck down by the awe.”

The priest nods to you, and then to Eddie (who’s appeared at your side like a guard dog that sensed trouble), then wanders off down a row of pews to greet other guests.

You’re nearly doubled over with the effort it takes to conceal your laughter, Eddie stroking a calming hand down your back and chuckling with you under his breath. 

“Struck down by the awe, huh?” he echoes as you straighten back up and dab at the tears gathering against your lashline. “You really are somethin’.”

“That was so embarrassing but guess what-” here you lean in, voice a conspiratorial whisper as Eddie raises his eyebrows to look down his nose at you- “I don’t give a fuck ‘cuz I’m hi-igh.”

This last word is sung with a two-note lilt, and you turn back to the comfort of the sunny window as Eddie steps in beside you, shaking his head. “I told you to start with a lower dose, ya goose. Did you take more when I wasn’t looking?”

You shrug a shoulder, the soft linen of your cardigan brushing up against the hard leather of Eddie’s jacket. “Maybe. Couldn’t say. You gonna steal this window for me or what?”

He blows out a breath, pretending to appraise the size and heft, rapping his ringed knuckles against the sill- “Well normally I’d say ‘anything for my girl’, but we’d need a shrink ray for this type’a heist.”

“Maybe Dustin has one we can borrow.”

He sucks his front teeth, playing along, shaking his head in faux-disappointment. “Nah, little shit’s only got a ham radio. Useless when it comes to religious robbery.”

Eddie looks overly pleased when you giggle, but some of the humor in his face falls to concern as he reaches out to squeeze your upper arms. “Hey. You doin’ okay? If you’re too stoned to sit through the ceremony, I can find us a little spot to hole up in. I’m good at finding those.”

“I know you are,” you reply, waving away his worry. “I’m fine, honest. Do I look high?”

He holds you at arm’s length, giving you a contemplative once-over. “Nope. You look beautiful.”

You roll your eyes, affectionately, then smooth your palms over the front of your black slip dress and pull the scalloped sleeves of your cardigan into place. “Well, of that I am aware.”

Eddie winks, and you really wish you were sober enough that the warmth of his hands and the smell of his cologne would have less of an effect but high as you are, you want nothing more than to burrow into his neck and taste the salt of his skin. 

“Do I look high?” he asks, pulling away to do a little spin so you can appraise his appearance. 

Eddie Munson, as it turns out, cleans up very well for family functions: smart black boots, maroon button-down tucked into a pair of flare-legged trousers, worn but well-kept leather jacket to top the outfit off. And in signature Eddie fashion, little glints of silver highlight the ensemble- his usual chunky rings, stacked layers of thin chain necklaces, metal buckles on his coat and at his waist, even a set of tiny hoops (courtesy of your jewelry drawer) in his ears. 

The dryness in your mouth has nothing to do with your intoxication as you blink back to the present and give Eddie a once-over. “Uhm. Nope. You look sober. And very hot.”

He grins at you, wolfish, but then a bright chord of organ music signals the start of the ceremony. With a steady hand on your back, he leads you to a pew near the last row; when you’re both seated, his hand runs smoothly down to rest on your thigh, drumming a lazy beat with his thumb against you as the processional starts. 

Your cousin Marion looks lovely swathed in white tulle, contrasted with her groom in a black tux. Her mother, your aunt- Karen? Karina? can’t recall- dabs at her tears with a delicate lace handkerchief in the front pew as the couple exchanges vows, promising eternal and ineffable love until their ultimate demise, etcetera. 

You’re not someone who’s ever fallen prone to the gushy emotions that love seems to create in so many of your peers. While Nancy and Robin will dole out tissues to each other during some cheesy romcom, you’ll get ribbed for being so stoic. None of your breakups have ever ended in giant blowouts or dramatics from your side- hard to fight for something when you hadn’t really cared about it in the first place. 

That’s why you consider yourself so lucky, when it comes to Eddie. After the two of you ended your high school fling due to graduation, you’d come back to Hawkins after a few years of college and found yourself sneaking out like a teenager again to hang out with Eddie Munson. 

He told you he doesn’t want anything serious, either, and that he’s just fine being friends who sleep around and go to all of each other’s parties.

You almost believe him. 

He’s been to every one of your nephew’s hockey games this past season, and you’ve spent two cozy Christmases so far at the trailer with him and Wayne; every party in between has ended with Eddie driving you home, or (more frequently) back to his place. Your collective relatives and friends haven’t asked about your relationship status in years, and it’s all thanks to Eddie’s presence in your life: if the two of you aren’t technically dating, it’s really no one’s business. 

The old priest from earlier is droning on about some bible verse; uncomfortable on the hard bench and feeling restless, you shift your hips, and Eddie digs his fingers into the meat of your thigh.

“Quit. Squirming,” he murmurs, lips at your ear. When you shiver and still, he pats your leg and straightens again, eyes fixed to the front altar.

You and Eddie make it through the ceremony with minimal damage, only getting one dirty look from an older man in the pew ahead when you’d snickered at a dirty joke (courtesy of your benchmate). Marion and her new husband greet their guests one by one as everyone filters outside, and you coast easily through the interaction, kissing your cousin on both cheeks and fawning over her dress and giving just the right amount of congrats before Eddie plucks at your elbow to subtly redirect your attention. 

“Let’s get some food in you,” he says, linking your arms together as you follow the receiving line outdoors.

The reception is held just next to the church building in a surprisingly lovely courtyard. Sunlight filters through the willow trees at the edge of a grass yard, where a picnic basket awaits on each spread quilt. People are kicking off their dress shoes, unwinding with the lure of nature, kids chasing each other through the paths between blankets as adults wiggle their toes into the grass and dig into the luncheon.

Possibly, you’re high and over-romanticizing, but you can tell by the look on Eddie’s face he’s there with you, taking it all in from your blanket in a quiet corner of the yard. 

There are finger sandwiches in the basket, along with some fresh fruit and plastic utensils and plates to eat off of; Eddie fixes you a plate and you dig in happily, sock feet tucked under yourself, yours and Eddie’s shoes in a jumble nearby. 

“Could eat anything when I’m high,” you muse, then bite into a sandwich that has the perfect cream-cheese-to-cucumber ratio with a contented sigh. “Food is so good.”

Eddie snaps a baby carrot with his back teeth, then snorts at you before reaching out to tuck one side of your hair behind your ear before it gets eaten along with your food. “I know you can eat anything when you’re high. I once saw you scooping up apple pie with potato chips.”

You give him a sidelong frown, mouth full of bread and veg as you defend yourself- “Yeah, and it was great. Dee-licious. Would do it again if-”

Your name is being called, and you swivel to see a young man about your age weaving along the spaces between blankets towards yours and Eddie’s spot.

“Tony!” In a neat bit of multitasking, you manage to swallow your food and rise to your feet (albeit unsteadily, with Eddie’s hand snapping out to support your efforts), then hold your arms out to envelop the boy in a hug. “Oh my god, it’s been ages.”

Anthony Townsend has grown up in the time you’ve spent away- the last recollection you have of your former childhood neighbor is his mop of red hair bouncing with the trampoline his parents bought him in 6th grade. He grew into his looks, for sure- the awkwardness of pre-teen ears and too-big front teeth have settled into a very kind and handsome face.

He looks genuinely pleased to see you, returning your hug with a squeeze, pulling back to hold both your hands and ask about where you’ve been. You breeze through a highlighted version of the last few years, leaving out all the interdimensional monster bullshit and focusing the questions back on him.

Tony’s telling you about his father’s veterinary practice that’s still running smoothly when you feel Eddie at your back, and Tony falters, dropping your hands.

Social cues come a tad slow to you, under the influence, and you think Tony’s stumbling because you haven’t introduced him yet (how were you supposed to know Eddie’s been glaring daggers at the poor kid ever since you’d hugged him?), and you attempt to remedy your mistake with a casual remark- “You know, Eddie here has been feeding the stray cats at our place every night, a whole colony of them- there’s gotta be, what, ten of ‘em now?”

You turn to Eddie for confirmation, reeling a little at the dark scowl he’s still sporting as he nods. “Yup. Somethin’ like.”

Tony scratches at the back of his neck, freckled cheeks pink as he begins to back away- “Um, yeah. Cool. Well it was great to see you! I gotta…”

With a vague gesture, he turns and tails it back to his blanket on the other side of the yard. You whirl on Eddie, his face smoothing back into relaxed indifference, even as you hiss, “What the hell was that?”

Eddie shrugs. “Don’t know what you mean, princess.”

“That,” you repeat, waving an arm in the air for emphasis. “I know I’m not sober but you were being weird, even by my standards.” 

There’s this look that Eddie gets, sometimes, when one of you bumps against the walls of your loosely-defined relationship- a brief flash of pain and sadness before it gets hidden away behind his comfortable mask of bravado.

He’s got it now- a small pinch in his eyebrows, doey eyes swimming with emotion, and you put a hand on his leather-clad arm as the pieces fall into place. “Were you… are you jealous?”

In the span of a blink, the mask is back up, and with a dry laugh that’s so unlike him, Eddie shakes his head. “Nah. What do I have to be jealous of, huh? ‘S not like we belong to each other.”

Maybe on a different day, with half the weed in your system, you’d be able to let this comment slide. But there’s something deeply hurtful about it, sinking and twisting in your stomach like a stone. Your grip tightens on Eddie’s arm, tears stinging hot at your eyes, voice a watery, desperate thing- “Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.”

Eddie is quick to comfort you, once he realizes you’re close to crying- “Shit, sweetheart. Okay. You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to think…” Your voice is still shaky with emotion as Eddie lets you hold on to him, gently shushing you even though there’s no one near enough to hear. “You’re important to me, Eddie. I never wanna make you mad, or upset, or-”

“I’m not.” Eddie cuts smoothly into your rambling, placing his hands on either side of your neck as you cling to him, cool rings kissing into your skin. “I’m not mad, promise. I was just being an asshole for no reason, okay? Could never be mad at you.”

His thumb strokes at the column of your throat, your breath and heart rate lulled to normal under his touch, his expression returning to the gentle fondness you’re used to seeing.

“Let’s finish up lunch, hm?” Eddie says, and with a final soft squeeze he pulls away from you, taking with him the warmth of his palms.  

It’s always like this, with him, at least in front of your respective families- any PDA is kept to a strict minimum, nothing too intimate or drawn out so as not to attract attention. You’d implemented this rule from the beginning, and Eddie has been nothing but respectful of it, your peace of mind over not wanting a label pacified.

But right now? The lack of Eddie’s arms around you or his lips on yours was starting to make you ache. 

You both settle into the blanket again, conversation flowing around mouthfuls of food as you catch Eddie up with the latest family gossip, laughing when he bats your pointer finger out of the air (as if anyone is really paying attention to you two giggling loons). 

Someone’s brought a radio and has it dialed to a soft rock station; you gasp and shove at Eddie (sprawled out like a house cat after a full meal in the sun), exclaiming “It’s Fleetwood Mac and you love Fleetwood Mac!”

“I so don’t,” he grumbles, but rises easily when you tug at him to stand sock-to-sock feet with you in the grass. 

You both fall into a smooth rhythm, Eddie’s hands staying (respectably) on your hips, yours looped around his neck, doing a slow little rotation. He gazes at you as you sway back and forth in each other’s arms, the scrutiny making you titter and fidget.

“What?”

“Thought I told you to quit squirmin’,' ' comes his answer, hands tightening into the meat of your waist. “Let me look at you a minute.”

So you let him look. 

While his chocolate eyes roam your face, you trail a hand up to curl a lock of his hair around your finger. Eddie leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut, giving you room to do some staring of your own at those long, dark lashes. 

After another slow circle, Eddie inhales and draws himself back, clearing his throat. “Not that I’m not enjoying this, sweetheart, but we’re gonna start getting looks if you don’t quit using me as your personal stress toy.”

You snort. “You’re right. Sorry.”

“All good,” he replies, dimples springing into his cheeks, teasing again- “When we get home later you can pet me like a dog, if you want. Just gotta tone you down ‘cuz you get touchy when you’re high.”

Eddie’s being a perfect gentleman. He’s sticking to your rules and looking out for you.

So why is it making you so sad?

You realize, with a stunning clarity, that you don’t want to wait until you’re back at the trailer to touch Eddie. That you’re starting to crave him when he leaves, whether it’s for a day or an hour or just out of bed to get a snack. 

Fuck it, you think, and bend to scoop up your shoes. 

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” you tell Eddie, slipping on your shoes then starting towards the building. When you realize he’s not following, you pause, giving him a look over your shoulder- “Aren’t you coming?”

Eddie blinks, wondering if you’re insinuating what he thinks you’re insinuating or if he’s just really, really high. “Um. Uh…”

You don’t leave room for the shock to sink in, turning on your heel and smirking when you hear him swear under his breath and scramble to catch up. 

In a narrow hallway lined with portraits of long-dead saints, you push Eddie against the wall, mouth sealing over his and hands roaming hungrily over his body.

“Fuck,” he gasps out, in between kisses, your fingers tugging at the root of his hair, near the nape of his neck where it stings the best- “what’s got you so worked up, princess?”

“You.” The answer is an honest one. You slip your tongue between Eddie’s teeth and the boy moans, melting into you.

Peppering kisses down Eddie’s face, your lips settle into the hollow just under his jaw, then part to give room to your teeth. Eddie stiffens as you bite down, sensitive skin pierced by your mouth; it’s his turn to be the squirmy one as you suck a bruise into that soft spot. 

His cock is filling out, as proved by the steadily-growing bulge behind his zipper. You give a mean little wiggle of your hips and Eddie jolts so hard you lose your spot on his neck, popping off him with a wet smack.

“Angel, you have to stop.” Eddie sounds absolutely wrecked as he tries to maintain some distance, head tipped back to stare at the popcorn ceiling. “M’not gonna last if you keep doing that. Let me take you home, we can-”

“Shhh.” You quiet him with a pointer finger smooshed against his lips, your other hand tilted to your ear. “You hear that?”

Eddie strains to hear distant cheers and hip hip hoorays from the festivities a few corridors away; when he nods, you whisper, “That’s the cake cutting. We have a good ten minutes before anyone thinks to come back here.”

At first, Eddie thinks he’s off the hook when you release him completely, walking swiftly towards the main sanctuary. But then, because you’re a temptress, you beckon him with an impatient wave.

And because he’s so easy for you, he follows.

It’s like that window has a magnetic pull- you’re back under the prismatic glow of the stained glass, brushing a hand across the wide sill to dust it before hopping up to perch there. You fit neatly between the split row of votive candles (all snuffed out by now), enough room for your knees to part and for Eddie to fill the space. 

You cross your arms around his neck, drawing him in with another deep kiss as his hands find your waist.

“Want you to mark me up,” you murmur, and when Eddie draws back, wary, you let your chin tip up. The crown of your head knocks into the window, exposing your throat. “Show them I’m yours, Eds.”

Only have to tell him twice, apparently, ‘cuz his teeth sink into your stretch of soft skin without further qualms. The feeling of his tongue soothing over the sore spot makes you jump, hips bucking forward into his hand that you didn’t even notice had trailed up the inside of your dress.

His long fingers pet at the wet patch that’s seeping through your underwear, catching at your clit on an upstroke, your gasp a harsh noise in the otherwise silent sanctuary.

Eddie begins to rub at you through the fabric in earnest now, tight circles with his thumb even as he pulls his mouth from your neck to assess his handiwork. “Yeah, fuck, sweetheart, that’s gonna leave a mark. You want everyone to know who you belong to, huh?”

Your bundle of nerves throbs under Eddie’s touch and you curse, hands weaving tight into his hair again. “Shit, Eddie, yeah- just like that…”

He dips back into the well of your neck with his teeth, keeps just the right amount of pressure on your clit, and that tension coiling in your lower stomach is just about to snap before you stop him with a hand around his wrist.

“Sorry,” you pant through the apology, forehead crushed to Eddie’s collarbone as you try and catch your breath. “Was about to come and I want you inside of me for that.”

“Jesus fucking christ.”

Eddie fumbles with his belt buckles as you giggle, chastising- “Hush and mind your manners, Munson. That’s blaspheming and we’re about to fuck in a church.”

“I’ll show you manners.” Eddie has his pants and briefs shoved to mid-thigh before you can draw breath to tell him off; one hand smears precum down the shaft of his ruddy cock as the other pushes your dress up and hooks your panties to the side. 

You’re wet and worked up enough that he slides into the heat of you with ease, breath punching out with the way his cock completely fills you. When Eddie pulls out and sinks back in, you let out a keening whine and scrabble for purchase on his leather jacket. 

“That’s it, sweetheart, that’s it-” his voice is a dark rumble, each word punctuated with a snap of his hips, the squelch of your slick walls responding. “So wet for me. That’s my good girl. You like gettin’ off to being mine, huh, angel?”

You nod, head lolling against the window, and Eddie grins wicked even though you can’t see it. “Come on. Show me whose pussy this is.”

When his hand snakes between your bodies to press against your clit with his thumb, you come with a long, strained whimper, ankles crossing at the small of Eddie’s back to draw him closer while the velvet walls of your cunt spasm. 

Eddie’s free hand shoots out to the supporting wood arch of the window for stability as he angles his hips up, longing for that glossy honey-eyed look you get sometimes: and there it is, your eyes half-lidded and brow pinched in pleasure as his cock hits against that gummy spot, the tremble of your thighs locked around his waist as your orgasm peaks. 

Once he’s fucked you through the height of it, Eddie dips to bite at the taut muscle where your neck and shoulder meet, clamping down on the words threatening to flood out as his hips stutter. He comes hard, deep groan muffled into your neck, curses and praises spilling out in mindless babbling: “Fuck fuck, angel, that’s it, honey, shit, you’re so wet. All for me, huh, baby? Doin’ so good…”

He sags into your arms, pinning you to the window, chests heaving in tandem as you both catch your breath. You stroke a hand down his back, towards his ass, and then to the edge of his pants.

When he realizes that you’re trying to tuck him back into his clothes he whines at you, but you’re quick to shush him. “We’re cuttin’ it close with timing already, Eds. Help me out?”

Reluctantly, Eddie pulls away from the wet warmth of you to re-dress. Once his belt is in place he attends to you, helping shift the hem of your dress back down, rubbing his finger lightly under the skin of your eye where some mascara had smudged.

“I’ll double back for the keys and we’ll go home, ‘kay?” Eddie says, nose nudging into your cheek. “Wait here. You got some wicked marks and everyone will know we just fucked.”

“Pfft. No they won’t. Who would actually fuck in a church?” You push Eddie back playfully, hopping down from the sill with a wink. “You’ve gotta be sick to do that. Good thing my family believes you to be a perfect goody-two-shoes.”

Eddie stares as you make for the doors back to the courtyard, shrugging off his incredulity- “Eddie. It’s fine. So they’ll think we made out a bit. Who cares? Not me. And plus…” here you trail off and point, mischievous, Eddie’s eye’s following the line to his sock feet- “...you kinda have a no-shoes situation goin’ on. Gotta fix that.”

When you disappear through the doors, Eddie slams a palm to his chest, in awe- then feels the outline of the lighter in his inner pocket. With a practiced twist, he has it out and lit in a second, holding the flame to the wick of a votive candle.

“I don’t know how these candles work, exactly, or if atheists are allowed to…” Eddie clears his throat, glances over his shoulder to confirm you’re still out of earshot, then whispers above the flickering light: “Please let this be real life and not just some high-fueled fantasy because this is kind of huge for me. Okay thanks. Amen, or whatever.”

Eddie blows out the candle like it’s a birthday wish then hurries to catch up with you, sock feet silent against the wood floor as he calls out your name- “Slow down and have a heart, babe, I’ve got no grip!”

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

A Night Forgotten

Part Five.

“I—I’m sorry?”

Emoni was baffled by what Dove had casually asked.

“You heard exactly what I said, Emoni. You choose to hear what you want to hear.” Dove says, leaning over the bar with a playful expression, “Ten years is a very long time. Aren’t you tired? Don’t you want to become his Princess? I can see it. Feel it actually.”

Emoni suddenly felt compelled to drink, taking a sip and feeling lifted. She instantly felt comfortable enough to talk to Dove. She felt an overwhelming urge to dump all of her pent up feelings and frustrations onto this beautiful stranger. As if a weight had been lifted off of her, she exhaled and started shaking with nerves.

“I…I want him so bad that it hurts…”

Dove simply stared at Emoni intensely, as if putting her under a spell.

“…I see him with another woman and it breaks my fucking heart but it’s also so hard for me because he’s such a womanizer and how can I trust him? He’s a Prince, a boss, he’s crazy hot, smart, funny—”

“Emoni, breathe…”

She took a deep breath in, and blew it out.

“You’re afraid he’ll do to you what your ex did.”

“Exactly,” Emoni exhaled a shaky breath, “But there’s also this part of me that wants him to beg for it. Get down on his knees and beg me to be with him…”

“Hmm. Well, you’ll get that sooner than you think. I can feel it. Let’s say…in less than an hour…”

Emoni scuffed, “yeah, I highly doubt that.”

She finishes off her drink, giving a surprised hum at how pleasant it tastes…and how light it makes her feel by the time she hits the bottom of the glass.

“Another?” Dove took her empty glass from her hands eagerly.

“Hell yeah, keep them coming! I want to be so pleasantly intoxicated with a fine ass man drilling me into the mattress—woah.”

Dove giggled while Emoni tried to fathom where that came from. Her inner thoughts became outward. Dove slid another drink in front of her and like a magnet, Emoni started drinking. Somehow, this round it was slightly stronger.

“Take your time with it, maybe Erik might want some…”

Dove touched Emoni’s hand delicately. Emoni looked up at her gorgeous face in a trance-like state, focused and relaxed, while still being aware of her surroundings. Her irises became a bright pink color with her heightened concentration. She felt as if she were in a distorted sense of time, everyone and everything around her moving in slow motion. Although she didn’t have any control over her body and emotions, she was in a pleasant state.

“By the powers I am wielding, I tap into your loving feeling. To fix your broken heart, I tap into that initial spark. Glue together your heart that’s broken, with these words being spoken. With this spell I now decree, as I will it so shall it be…”

Dove lifted her soft yet powerful hand from Emoni’s and slipped away. After five seconds, Emoni came back to, blinking her eyes rapidly. Her chocolate brown eyes fell to her cup and she faintly remembered Dove making her a new drink. Slightly shrugging her shoulders, she brought the martini to her lips and took a sip.

“Emoni.”

Back stiffening from an unwanted touch, Emoni turned and came face to face with her ex. Exhausted, she stepped to the side to walk away, but he stopped her again.

“Be honest with me, Emoni,” Troy says, eyeing the lovely woman in front of him with something akin to lust. He’s drinking something purple out of a martini glass, chewing on its blackberry and strawberry garnish. “Are you avoiding me because you miss me?”

“Miss you? Nigga, why would I even bother.”

Emoni turned her back to him. Troy grabbed her arm again and Emoni almost snapped her neck with the way she looked back at him.

“Troy, get your hand off my arm. Not once have I given you a sign that I wanted you back in any way. What we had was a mistake. I refuse to make the same mistake twice. Play with some other bitch, I’m not the one—”

His smug, handsome face with tawny skin frowned.

“We both know who you belong to. Stop acting all bold off that drink and be honest with yourself.”

“I think that purple shit in your glass is making you confused. I belong to no one. And I’m being so honest it’s not even funny.” Emoni quipped with a vengeful look in her eyes.

“Baby, everything okay over here?”

The sound of his voice activated something inside of her. Her breath hitched and her stomach did flips. The Golden Jaguar and Prince of Wakanda approached them with his usual gait and royal aura. Troy’s hand slowly released Emoni’s arm and he glared at Erik.

“Why the fuck are you touching my woman?”

Erik pushed up on Troy, his chest puffed out and his head tilted in a threatening manner. His obsidian eyes were slightly squinting as he sized Troy up with an unwavering stare.

“She tell you not to touch her, right? And she told you to leave her alone. Don’t make me rough you up in front of all these good people, Troy. Take yo’ ass back over there.”

Troy glowered at Erik, the grip on his glass almost shattering it. Erik’s eyes widened a fraction, pressing up on Troy again. He was giving him a silent warning. Emoni’s heart almost sank to her stomach. She knows Erik’s temper. He’s nothing to fuck with.

“Erik,” Emoni placed a gentle hand on his bicep. Her fingertips tingled from the feeling of his muscles through his tux jacket, “It’s okay. Troy was just leaving, right?”

Erik’s right brow ticked up. Troy snorted, shaking his head before walking away. As he walked, he would look back at Erik over his shoulder with a death glare. Erik held his gaze, a menacing smirk on his handsome face. Emoni squeezed Erik’s bicep, drawing his attention back down to her.

“Thank you for that. You didn’t have to step in and help me get rid of him. I appreciate it.”

Erik’s face softened and he chuckled, “Anything for you, Moni. I’ve been itching to say something to that nigga ever since he showed up and kept bothering you. It won’t happen anymore.”

Emoni realized that her hand hadn’t left Erik’s arm. He looked from her small hand to her face with a slight crease in his brow and a hint of a smile.

“What’s in that drink of yours, pretty mama? Because that hand hasn’t left my arm. Hmmm…”

He takes the drink from her hand once more, downs what's left of it from the side where her lipgloss mark rests, and hands her back the empty glass. He licks his lips a few times, as if he really enjoyed her drink.

“I wasn’t finished drinking that!” She argued.

“I’ll get you a new one, Emoni. Can’t help it that I want what you’ve got…”

Erik leaned over her, causing Emoni to tilt back against the bar. The major height difference between them with Erik being 6’5 made her feel helpless and horny at the same time. Speaking of horny, whatever was in that drink shot straight to her erogenous zones. It must have for Erik too, because Emoni could have sworn she saw the faintest glow of magenta in his onyx orbs. He stared down at Emoni with a primal look in his eyes like he wanted to push every glass off of the surface of the bar, lay her on her back, and eat her until her legs were shaking.

Emoni couldn’t explain what had shifted within her, but Erik’s offer was starting to look pretty damn good. across the room, Brent is dancing with two women. Everyone else seems paired off now, and from where Emoni stands at the bar, she makes the conscious decision to go home with Erik Stevens.

Wow, Dove has definitely outdone herself this time! In fact, the drink's unique flavours complimented everything else she's had so far, almost as if each martini has been a lead-in to the next, and the next, until it has culminated in this one. Her whole body tingles, flushes hot with anticipation as she tilted the glass. It slid down her throat, cool and smooth, heating her belly and warming her blood.

Imagine how it would feel for Erik’s dick to slide down your throat and reward you with a creamy treat.

Jittery with nerves and intoxicated from the smell of Erik’s cologne and those delicious drinks, Emoni contemplates joining the crowd out on the dance floor to hail in the married couple who will be joining them at any moment. The alcohol is really flooding through her now, loosening her rigid control just enough.

Suddenly, Erik tilts her chin up to look at him.

“We're dancing,” he tells her without fanfare.

With a tilt of his head, he grabbed her wrist, yanking her into his arms. The hand holding hers is firm, the footsteps guiding them sure. Everything about her partner seems confident and at ease, but there is a look in his eye she knows well, having seen it in the mirror more than her fair share of times over the years, especially before she's about to go to bed with someone. He's nervous, anxious for this to mean more than it should.

In truth, so is she.

Yet there's something to be said about physically dancing with a man you've verbally, mentally, and emotionally crossed swords with on more than one occasion. As there is with their trading insults, there's a natural choreography to their movements around each other, an instinctive knowledge of push and pull to their rhythm. It is easy being in his arms, she discovers, twirled around like a debutante at her first ball by a handsome beau.

Daniel Caesar–Who Hurt You? Is playing.

It's seductive.

With slight pressure on the sway of her spine, he pulled her pelvis into his, their thighs cradling each other's as they swayed back and forth. He pulled their joined hands in, resting her right fingers over his heart so she could feel it beating, and pressed his nose into her hairline, inhaling deeply, exhaling with a sigh of pleasure at her rose-cinnamon-cardamom scent.

Strange new addictions picked up on the road

Changed my opinions and changed up my flows

Changed my approach, no more lovin' these hoes

And when it rains it pours, hey

You make me feel

So primal and

That's what I am

I'm just a man

“I love the way you smell,” he whispered into her ear during the small lull between refrain and chorus.

She buried her nose into his collar. “You, too,” she admitted, rubbing their cheeks together.

Take that pussy, drop it in my lap

I love it when you move like that

Now turn around and throw it back

It back, it back

“Do you like this? Dancing with me?” he asked.

Emoni nodded, her hand on his shoulder curving up and around his neck to find a home right at the back of his hairline, where he loved to be touched. “Very much.”

He kissed her temple. "Good."

That caused her breath to hitch. Not even an hour ago would she find herself letting Erik kiss her. At least now he knew they would do this again after tonight... if he could convince her to date him.

The DJ changed the music over with another smooth transition. A trance-like, slow R&B beat harmonized with piano and guitar, and this time, he moved the way he wanted to make love to her, his hands pressed on her hips, grinding against her sultrily. He pressed soft kisses all along the shell of her right ear, flicking the small gold earring – a heart with a butterfly – in passing as his lips traveled lower.

When you feel it in your body you found somebody who

Makes you change your ways like hanging with your crew

Said you act like you're ready but you don't really know

And everything in your past, you wanna let it go

He ran his mouth over her pulse, letting his right hand skim around her back and up over her spine to tangle in her soft curls, pulling back gently to open her up for him…

I've been there, done it, humped around, ha

After all that this is what I found

Nobody wants to be alone

If you're touched by the words in this song

Then maybe

You got it, you got it bad

When you're on the phone

Hang up and you call right back (oh, you)

You got it, you got it bad

If you miss a day without your friend, your whole life's off track…

Suckling upon her throat, he wrapped her in his embrace, letting his other relearn the curvature of her ass. He envisioned his fingers traveling over the outline of her panties, and then through the center.

In his arms, Emoni shivered. The hand stationary over his heart moved then to join its twin at the back of his hair, and with a low, sexy moan, she pulled him closer. They were definitely causing a scene. Emoni could feel eyes on her, causing her to pull away. Erik chuckles, the sound shooting straight to her wet, quivering pussy.

“The bride is about to appear soon to toss the bouquet,” Emoni murmurs the reminder, aware of the others all around them and how the level of excitement in the room has ratcheted up as the seconds count down, “It's strange, but I just realized… I've never stayed this long at one of these events to see what happens next. I mean…I’ve seen it in movies but…”

With a matching incredulous expression, her partner admits, “Me either, actually.”

That sends them equally into a bout of snickering and chuckling.

“A first for both of us, it seems.”

He flashes a grin that's as white as snow, “One of many together, I'm sure.”

His words make things inside her flutter.

“I can’t believe I’m going to say this but…you look really nice. The whole mask thing suits you.” she blurts out. "It’s fitting.”

He whirls her around faster and laughs as her grip on him tightens. “Why, Daniels, are you finally admitting that I'm devilishly handsome?”

No need to deny it.

She shrugs with a roll of her eyes, “You know you are.”

“Yes, but you've never said it,” he teases. “You're a notorious hold-out when it comes to me.”

There's a double-entendre in there, and she feels its meaning and intent to her toes when he turns the full force of his obsidian-eyed gaze upon her.

“Perhaps if you actually were more sweet, and less wicked I might be inclined to stroke your ego more often,” she tosses back with a sultry grin, blaming Dove’s alcoholic genius for such sassiness.

Erik’s gaze heats as he lowers his mouth to her ear. “I can be equal parts nice to naughty, love. Care to find out?”

Ooh, FUCK, would she love to! She’d wanted so many moments with him. A small voice in her head echoed for her to just give in to her desires and feel.

“…I suppose I should have an escort back to my hotel tonight,” she agrees with a thoughtful air, pretending to misunderstand. “I’m staying at The Luxor…it’s known for being pretty haunted there…the most haunted out of all the hotels in Sin City. Might be too dangerous to go alone.”

“Mmm, safety first,” he agrees, lips twitching with amusement.

They pause as the music switches and the beautiful bride walks forward with her bouquet. The rest of the room clears the center of the ballroom, making a space as Beyoncé–Single Ladies plays.

“ALLRIGHT LADIES! LETS GET TO THE DANCE FLOOR!”

Emoni finds a spot amongst the crowd of eager women. She endures being shoved and bumped into, her eyes glued to her friend and bride twirling in a circle with the bouquet of roses swaying in her hand.

Now put your hands up!

The bouquet was thrown back and something in Emoni told her to leap for it like she was playing football. She threw herself forward and at the last second she grasped the bouquet, falling flat on her stomach clumsily. The room erupted with applause and laughter. Instantly, the women rushed over to help her up. Emoni was too stunned and excited to care about falling in front of over a hundred people.

“I caught it! I caught it!” She squealed.

“ALL RIGHT LADIES! TIME FOR THE MEN!”

Michael Jackson–P.Y.T had the room grooving.

The men two-stepped to the floor, and Emoni was happy with the amount of attractive, eligible men stepped up. Of course, Erik stood out to her. She caught his eye and became bashful when he winked at her. Not even Troy trying to win her back was enough to get her attention. The groom was too busy lip syncing and snapping his fingers while twirling the garter around his finger. It took for the bride to snap him out of it before he tossed the garter high in the air.

What happened next shocked everyone. Erik did an impressive parkour roll and caught the garter in his hand before it even touched the floor. The other men behind him had to stop themselves from tumbling over on top of Erik with how fast they moved. While the others looked uncoordinated, Erik stood tall and proud, his eyes never leaving Emoni’s. The bride shared a look with her and then she giggled.

“TIME TO PUT THAT GARTER ON!”

Emoni was pushed towards a chair strategically placed in the center of the dance floor. She flopped down and someone took the bouquet from her hands. She couldn’t contain her nerves. He was going to slip the garter up her leg. She was afraid that his touch on one of her most sensitive areas would trigger the inner slut in her. She chewed on her bottom lip and twirled a curl as Erik took his place before her. They locked eyes, and the connection was so strong she could vividly see him struggling just as much as her.

I'm just a bachelor

I'm looking for a partner

Someone who knows how to ride

Without even falling off

Gotta be compatible

Takes me to my limits

Girl, when I break you off

I promise that you won't want to get off

If you're horny, let's do it

Ride it, my pony

My saddle's waitin'

Come and jump on it

Standing before her without shame, Erik placed his hands on the back of his head, rolling his hips, closing his eyes, and biting his bottom lip at the same moment. The action caused his chest to thrust forwards. Emoni covered her mouth in shock and the noise around them from everyone cheering them on almost drowned out the music.

It was hard to keep her heart from tearing through her skin, especially as his tux jacket came off and his soft, cotton shirt slowly crawled over his solid abs, pecs, and arms. She could only imagine how that body looked beneath those clothes. her breathing kicked into high gear. The bulge in his slacks was definitely hard, begging to be suckled. Her nails bit into the edge of the chair as she clenched her hands to keep her body grounded in place.

With an assured saunter, he closed the distance between them. Stopping less than a foot away, his pelvis level with her face, he slid those thick fingers of his over his smoothed abdomen just as the vocals of the song sang a rather provocative tune…

If we're gonna get nasty, baby

First we'll show and tell

'Til I reach your ponytail

Lurk all over and through you baby

Until we reach your stream

You'll be on my jockey team

He got down on his knees slowly, his eyes still connected with hers. He skillfully brought her leg up so that her ankle dangled over his shoulder. Hooting and hollering along with clapping surrounded them but all of it was white noise. It felt like it was just the two of them. Erik pressed his nose into her ankle, inhaling her scent before taking her heeled foot, pressing it against his solid chest. He took his time placing the garter over her foot and up her leg.

She'd never been so turned on in her life!

His hands disappeared beneath her dress and she almost moaned. Meanwhile, Dove watched from the bar with a sly smile.

Emoni watched with a fixated fascination the expressions crossing his face as he secured the garter around her thigh and inches away from her pussy. She just knew he could feel the heat radiating from between her legs with how turned on she is. Erik was enraptured by her, enslaved to her whim, freely expressing his pleasure with parted lips, heaving chest and bucking muscles.

“Spend the rest of the day with me,” he begged. “I need you.”

Dove did say he would be on his knees begging within an hour.