#either way i do think blood sharing is such a big thing with him

[natdeviantrat]

we still haven't seen armand drink on screen, right? (aside from that one reciprocal moment with lestat) there was the cheers with louis but then it cut away and his glass still looked full afterwards. what could they be hiding? i mean surely he does need blood and they told us he hunts for it but?

something something armand always offering his blood never taking, a metaphor for his relationships but also something more? (honestly we saw louis drink from him soo many times like between that and his bloodline no wonder that mofo is powerful enough to challenge a hoard of vampires)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for getting my best friend killed?

I swear to God, it was an accident.

My (27) BF (34) has a reputation for getting himself out of any jam you can imagine; and at first it was just a fun little thing the friend group noticed: there goes Oily J wiggling his way out of trouble again. but as the meme evolved in the group, it got to the point where we'd loykey started getting him into situations just to see how he'd get out of 'em, and he akept getting out of em. He was having fun with it too same as us. "Oh you guys," he'd say, "getting me into situations again," before laughing it off and getting out of it, so it was enrichment for our shared enclosures, and as time went on, the situations got more intense.

The trouble is, it turns out that putting a man in too many situations eventually gets the police interested. And not local hobsknockers cops either; they was like, proper three-letter FEDs. They put out a bounty on any information pertaining to his capture and everything. It was good money too so I thought, hey why don't I put J in another situation he can wiggle out of like always (and he'd wiggled outta worse before, so I thought this one'd be relatively mild), and at the next boardgame night (cause it was too late to do anything special for this one) we can buy some extra strong booze and get absolutely blitzed while having a giggle about the situation.

Boardgame night, and we were playing some social deduction nonsense or another and he says: "One of you is gonna betray me tonight." and I can't help but think, looking back on it, that he knew. It's stupid, I know he was talking about the game, but the way he said it, it was like he knew. We all felt it, and we had a big round robin round the table taking turns promising that we'd never betray him. And I said it so easily cause I thought it was true. Sure, I was gonna talk to the feds about a bounty; but, I fully expected my big beautiful oily boy to wiggle his way out of the trouble I was 'bout to cause, and that's not a betrayal. I wasn't lying. I didn't think I was lying.

My big beautiful oily boy didn't manage to wiggle his way out of it. They killed him and I got my blood money. He's gone.

He's gone and I'm devastated, crying, mourning. I loved him so much. We all did. And I can't stop thinking that it's my fault: that I'm the reason he's gone. and it is. and the guilt is eating me up inside. and I just need to talk to someone about it. So, I tell the rest of the group what happened in the group chat, hoping they'd understand that I didn't want this. I didn't want the government's blood money. It was supposed the be a prank. some joint enclosure enrichment. He was supposed to wiggle out of it like he always does... did, i mean.

They call me, among worse things, the asshole and kick me from the group chat. And, I know it's my fault he's dead: I know that. If I didn't do what I did, he wouldn't be dead right now. But, I didn't mean it for it to end up this way. He was supposed to be okay, damn it. I loved him. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 9

in which we find out how the morning after went for fem!reader. you finally share with spencer after unanticipated anxieties come up. you're continually shocked by his affection for you.

series masterlist

this series is 18+ (angst, fluff) warnings/tags: (preface none of the bad stuff is done by spencer) sexual harassment, slut shaming, non consensual voyeurism of sorts, blood + pain from losing virginity, talk of rape (nothing like that actually happens), implied nonspecific age gap (someone says he looks slightly older than you) non sexual nudity, showering together, intimacy, ewww being in love is embarrassing a/n: I honestly was not gonna post this today but I decided to bc it's just Tumblr its not that deep also you can probably tell I am just creating problems bc I don't wanna let go of them...... ik this is supposed to be a smutty series btw and trust good things come to those who wait!!!but anyways idk what I'm doing and I kinda hate this!! lolol!!!

Friday morning

The air is thick when you wake up—the angle of the sun through the window is lower than usual, and the binding weight of your limbs as you struggle to stretch in place all suggest that you’ve slept in. 

But you don’t check the time quite yet—for a moment, you simply lie there, studying the pattern on your ceiling, downloading the events of the previous night. 

Flashes of skin on skin, lips, breaths, whispers, promises. Phantom sensations. 

Was it even real?

Your apartment is deafeningly silent, you realize. And you have that sinking sense, which you can’t quite explain but know to be true—that you are alone. Spencer is gone. You can’t feel him like you’d be able to if he were simply on the couch or in the kitchen. He’s definitely not in bed with you, and the sheets have long gone cold. 

The truth of it renders about as slowly as your sluggish consciousness does, and you frown, not quite sure what to do with that information. Should you be angry? Should you cry?

Mostly you’re confused. 

As soon as you sit up, sore thighs and abs and a strange ache between your legs confirm that last night was not a dream nor a figment of your imagination. You’ll figure out what to do about your twinging body in a moment—for now you rub your eyes and blindly reach for the bedside table, knocking several things to the ground in your quest for your phone. 

It’s not there, you realize, once you actually try to use your eyes. It’s not in bed with you either as you pat the sheets, and it doesn’t materialize as you sit on your knees and shake out the comforter. 

From this venture, however, you learn two things. First, Spencer must’ve taken it upon himself to get you dressed last night, which you have no recollection of, but you doubt you sleepwalked your way into underwear and a big t-shirt; and second—you bled. 

It wasn’t something you were thinking about in the moment, but now, faced with all the evidence and none of the pleasure of last night’s activities, it’s jarring. A stark, unforgiving archipelago of red on a pristine sea of white. 

People say, at its best, sex brings couples closer. Spencer once told you it could facilitate feelings of deeper connection. But here you are, no longer a virgin, and what do you have to show for it? A stronger bond with your boyfriend? He’s not even here. 

All you have is this glaring red stain marring perfectly good sheets. It mocks you, like something you’ve dropped and can’t pick back up. You can’t think looking at it, and you need to think, and so in a fit of frustration you’re pulling the comforter onto the floor, leaning over your mattress and yanking the fitted sheet free. You ball it up in your hands, breathing heavily—and realize you bled through to the mattress. 

Wonderful. 

Spencer’s just at work, you tell yourself, grabbing the first pair of shorts you see and pulling them on before gathering the ruined sheet once more and stomping on aching legs through your apartment to the hallway, not even bothering with shoes. He can’t just play hooky because his clingy girlfriend lost her virginity and needs to be comforted like some previously celibate high school cheerleader.

But you miss him so much it’s making you angry, so much your eyes are stinging and welling with tears of frustration as you shove your bed linens down the trash chute at the end of your floor’s hallway. You’re supposed to be independent. That’s how you’ve always been. Since when does it bother you to wake up alone? It’s just sex. It’s not as big a deal for him as it is for you. Or for anyone. You’re the one overreacting, you’re the one who expects too much. He works for the FBI, for god’s sake. There are people dying, and here you are—

“What’chya got there?”

The gruff voice makes you jump, and you turn around just as the bundle is disappearing down into the hole in the wall. It’s your neighbor, Jerry—the one in the unit right next to you. You’re not happy to see him, especially like this. He’s got a blue 5 o’clock shadow despite the hour, and is clad in ill-fitting gray sweats and a pair of ratty slippers. His distended belly strains at the confines of an oil-stained white shirt, tied with a dingy checkered robe. You barely meet his drooping eyes before looking longingly back at your cracked door down the hall. 

“Just… garbage.” You shift your weight, hiding a wince as you try to find a comfortable position to stand in. Jerry notices this, and you wish his eyes wouldn’t linger on your bare legs like that. 

“Huh. Looks like someone had a late night.”

“Sorry?”

“It’s just noon and you’re still in your PJ’s.”

Disgusting. And who the fuck is he to judge? At least your pajamas are clean. 

You shrug. “Yeah.”

He scratches his bald head. 

“So that boy tired you out pretty good, huh?”

Your stomach drops. Your brain freezes. 

When you don’t reply, he takes the liberty of continuing on. 

“Saw him sneaking out of your apartment in the middle of the night. He looked a little older ’n you. You like ’em older?” His laugh is a cruel bark. “Yeah… He’s a lucky man. You know, it’s natural for a man to like a younger girl. Fresh meat, ’n all.” You try to speak and can only swallow a gag. Jerry adjusts his stance, hands in pockets like he’s telling you a local news story. “Heard some of it. Sounded like you were putting on quite the show. And sure, a young pretty thing like you? Hell, I would if I could. But I’ll tell you right now, you don’t wanna end up like my daughter. She wasn’t as pretty as you, but still—three kids with three men by the time she was 24. She should'a kept her damn legs closed. You know, she loved to cry rape, but you gotta ask yourself, if your legs are open all the damn time, what do you expect? Back in the day we all knew girls like that—” he bats the air dismissively. “Guess you can’t call ’em sluts anymore—they get what they’re asking for one way or another. See, I think everyone still knows it and they’re just too afraid to say it. So my advice: don’t let yourself get used up, you hear me? Not by men who are gonna ride you hard and put you away wet. So to speak. Men can smell a girl like that from a mile away, and they’ll take it as an open invitation. It’s just human nature.”

When he finally stops talking, the hallway fills with a vacuous silence. It makes your ears ring. Several moments pass, but you’re frozen. Your whole body feels intolerably hot but your blood is freezing. How are you supposed to react? 

“Hello?” He says, voice loud enough to hurt your ears as it echoes. 

Get out of here, your more rational self says to the rest of you, and you mumble something, you don’t even know what, excusing yourself to hurry on stiff legs back down the hall to your door. 

Once inside, you do up every lock on your door, and face your apartment, shoulders tensed practically to your ears and fists clenched so tight your arms are trembling. On autopilot you look around for something to do, but there’s nothing. More importantly, nobody.

I’ll call Spencer. He’ll know what to do. 

No, you won’t, your higher self reminds you. You lost your phone. And besides, it’s clearly not like he wanted to stick around last night. Maybe he doesn’t even like you anymore. 

So you’re stuck here. Stranded. Sharks can smell blood. 

Processing that information, you walk back to your bedroom and close the door behind you—before promptly sinking to the ground and burying your face in the duvet with a deep, silent sob.  

That goes on for a few minutes until you realize you’re too achy and you can’t breathe and you’re forced onto your side, curling up in your blanket on the floor like it’s a nest and not a burial plot. 

You shouldn’t get ahead of yourself. A relationship can’t implode twice in 24 hours.  You don’t have your phone. Maybe he’s texted you. 

But is that really all you’re worth? A text sent after the fact? He couldn’t sacrifice a few hours to sleep by your side? Couldn’t even wake you up to say goodbye? You think about the sweet things he’d said afterward—the way he held you, fingers dancing down your spine. Promises he made when you were half asleep in his arms, so sure he’d be there when you woke up. 

Even fucking Jerry the neighbor—who you think might have just sexually harassed you in the hallway—said Spencer should’ve stuck around. 

Fuck. 

No, don’t think about that. It doesn’t even matter. They were just words. 

Heard some of it. Sounded like you put on quite the show. 

Your skin crawls and your stomach turns as you hold yourself tighter. Something that was supposed to be private and special—and some random man not only had a front row seat to your deflowering but felt comfortable talking about it with you. It feels like a violation. Like he crashed a really important party. If you had known you had an audience last night, you never would’ve done it. 

The way he looked at you, tracing your legs with his eyes like he was touching you—

You scramble up from the floor and walk heavily on your knees to the dresser, digging up a pair of pajama pants and a hoodie. You should be showering, but you don’t want to deal with your body right now. You just want to hide. 

Friday evening—present

After your conversation, Spencer seems eager to make sure the car ride to his apartment is not reminiscent of the car ride to yours last night—he holds your hand, resting in your lap, bringing your knuckles to his lips at a red light. Every few moments he glances over at you, maybe to appreciate the view (though you doubt it’s especially scenic at the moment) or perhaps to gauge your mood. The further away you get from your apartment building the better you feel, and you try to focus on that. Sure—maybe you had a shit day, but Spencer’s here now, and he didn’t leave you after all. In fact, since finding your phone, you’ve seen the series of very sweet and highly concerned messages he sent over the course of a few hours. They almost make your stomach hurt. It would’ve been really nice to have those earlier. 

He doesn’t ask you any more of the hard questions, but you sense an inquisition in the works and getting closer with every curious glance he gives you. It’s like he’s unwrapping you, layer by layer, using his impressive cognitive faculties to drill through your skull into your brain and deeper still into your soul. 

Back in his apartment you sit awkwardly on the bed. Last time you’d been here, things hadn’t gone so well for you. 

The shower starts in the adjoined bathroom, and Spencer comes out a moment later, warm light seeping into the darkened bedroom. Purple and dark blue mixing with yellow, like a bruise. 

“Hey. Water’s warm.”

You hum, smoothing the material of his neatly made bed with your palm and watching the way it flattens. That had been your doing. You may have thought he was on the verge of breaking up with you last time you slept here, but you didn’t want to leave his home a mess. Didn’t want to leave any evidence of your having been here. 

A moment passes. You thumb at a thread and don’t look up. 

Spencer crosses the space without a word and crouches in front of you, hands coming up to cup the back of your legs, running knee to ankle and up again. 

“Can you tell me what’s going on? Please?” He asks softly. His voice wrings your heart out. Now that you’re in a completely different space, and you’re not so alone anymore, you’re struggling to sort out your feelings. It should be fine. You’re with Spencer. Presumably he still loves you. 

And you still feel terrible. 

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” you whisper. 

“I know,” he says, just as quietly. 

Spencer doesn’t say anything else. I know you don’t want to—and yet. Your lips twist to the side. He’s persistent. Even in his kindness. It’s not the kind of care that falters or buckles when you try turning it away. 

“My neighbor said he c—” 

You’re forced to stop, frowning by how overcome you are. It shouldn’t be such a big deal. Worse things have happened to you. 

“He said he could hear us. Last night.”

Spencer’s hands stop on your legs. You can’t meet his eyes. You’re afraid whatever you find there won’t be the right thing. 

“He’s in the unit next to you?”

You nod. “We share a wall.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation and your stomach sinks. He doesn’t understand. 

“What did he say?”

“Just… dumb shit,” you scoff, fiercely wiping away a stray tear. “He said he listened and it sounded like I was putting on quite the show. And then he—and then he told me not to let you… use me up, whatever that means. He called me fresh meat, and said I shouldn’t let you ride me hard and put me away wet, and bad things happen to sluts who can’t keep their legs closed.”

You finish with a sharp inhale, briefly leaning down and covering your face with your hands when you realize how upset you really are. You want to hide it. 

A fraught moment passes. Spencer reaches for your hands, no doubt to try and pull them away from your face. You spare him the trouble, sitting up with a cavalier sniff before he can touch you and brushing your hair behind your ears.  

His voice is uncomfortably quiet. You can’t look at him. “Baby…”

“Don’t. It’s fine. I only told you because you asked.”

It’s not his fault, but you’re mad at him anyway, and so you avoid eye-contact like it’s the plague. Maybe it’s just safe to be mad at him. Maybe he knows that. 

Regardless, you’re not in the mood for coddling. It’s borderline repulsive—like trying to mix oil and water. Anything good slides right off of you because maybe you’re not designed to be able to absorb good things.

Nothing changes for a minute—and then he’s standing, offering you a moment alone as he goes to crank the shower off. 

As soon as he’s gone all the air is vacuumed from your lungs and you crumple, heaving it back in silently as your head spins and your heart races. It’s like your mind is split in two—half is primal, overwhelming panic, and the other a cold observatory eye, full of disdain and scorn for what it deems a severe overreaction to a few nasty comments made hours ago. You’re so tangled up as you curl in on yourself on your side that you can’t even cry. You’re just trying to remember how to breathe, ignoring the crawling feeling up your spine and the tingling heat at the back of your neck. The shower stops on the downbeat of your staggered breath, and then it’s silent. He’ll come back at any minute and see what a mess you’ve become. 

You’ve ruined everything. If only you could’ve kept it to yourself. 

When Spencer reappears in the doorway, and sees you collapsed and curling like paper burnt at the edges, he’s quick to return to you. 

“I’m sorry,” you manage, trying and failing to brush away hair from your cheek, which is wet—so you were crying—and Spencer shushes you, pushing it away for you as he kneels. 

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I’m being dramatic, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Of course, at the end of that declaration, a sob wrenches its way from the depths of you, so bright and cleaving you half expect the smell of ozone to follow. You follow it with a blisteringly self-deprecating laugh.

“Don’t—don’t do that. Don’t minimize it.”

His hand is warm where it rests over your cheek, affectionate, but he sounds frustrated. You frown and sniffle. 

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Tell me his name.” 

It’s a quiet request, made as gently as his hand cards through the hair at your temple like it’s woven with fragile threads of gold.

“No, Spencer,” you beg, anxiety pooling in your gut and rising in your throat, “please, I don’t want to make it a thing, I don’t want you to talk to him. You’ll just make it worse, it’s fine.”

You look at him imploringly, eyes wide and still welling, hoping to god the gravity of your plead will sink in. His are a bed of coals—somewhere between furious and sympathetic, and you try to appeal to the sympathy. 

“It is not fine. Saying sluts get what’s coming to them is not fine, that is a threat, and I’m not going to talk to him. I’m going to have him fucking arrested.”

You scoff. 

“For talking to me? Yeah, good luck with that. Cops are really known for being helpful when it comes to sexual harassment.”

“Baby. Men who are comfortable violating your boundaries like that are exponentially more likely to commit an actual violent crime. That is not a safe person for you to be around.”

“He’s not gonna rape me, Spencer! He’s just a gross old man! This is why I didn’t want to tell you, because I knew you’d make it a bigger deal than it is! You did it last night and you’re doing it now—you think everyone is out to get me!”

To his credit, he doesn’t so much as raise his voice. 

“Of course it’s a big deal. You’re upset.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my own fault.”

Maybe it’s the wrong thing to say. Spencer goes silent for a moment. 

“It’s your fault?”

“Yes. It’s my fault because… because now everyone knows that I’m…”

His voice goes impossibly soft again. “Knows that you’re what?”

“I mean, what did I expect?” You sniffle. “It’s an apartment. If I didn’t want to deal with the consequences, I shouldn’t’ve done it.”

He says your name like it’s a ring he twists around his finger as he tries to think—to gather the right words. 

“The consequences for having sex do not involve punishment or sexual harassment.”

“It’s the result of my actions, so—”

“No, it’s the result of your neighbor being disgusting. I don’t care what he heard, he doesn’t get to talk to you like that.”

“He—”

“If you heard something you weren’t supposed to hear would you bring it up to the person the next day?”

“Stop interrupting me,” you plead. Spencer looks like he has something to say to that, too, but he swallows it. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. “I… understand that he shouldn’t have said those things to me. But that doesn’t change the fact that he did, and it was really, really uncomfortable and I don’t wanna—I don’t wanna go back now. Maybe that’s dramatic, but…”

You trail off, studying the ceiling as a fresh wash of tears dampen your cheeks. Spencer’s hand slides down your waist as you wipe your face. “I don’t regret the fact that we slept together. I just regret everything that’s happened since, and if I didn’t do it last night, none of this would’ve happened. I feel like he ruined everything.”

The words end on another cry and you put your hand over your eyes like you could stop it all from coming out. You sniffle. Spencer is quiet for a moment. 

“I’m sorry,” he eventually whispers, his own voice threaded with emotion. “I…”

He sighs. You push your hair back and look at him. 

“What?”

He studies you, chewing on his lip like a nervous tick you’ve never seen before. You sit up again, feet balanced on the edge of the bed frame. Spencer’s eyes remain stuck on you. Again, you ask, “What?”

“I didn’t think about it until you brought it up earlier, but—I did see someone. Him, I think, when I went out to my car to get my bag. He was smoking when I came out, and when I got back into the lobby he was waiting for the elevator. We took it up together, he—he said something to me, so I know he saw me going back to you. I don’t know why he made it sound like I left.”

You frown. “What did he say?”

Spencer hesitates. 

“He asked if I had a long night. He was obviously commenting on the fact that I was basically half-dressed and getting an overnight bag from my car at one in the morning, so he could probably gather from context what was going on, but… my point is, he knew I came back and it seems like he was almost trying to make you think I didn’t. So for whatever reason, maybe he was lying about being able to hear you, too. Maybe he just wanted to make you uncomfortable.”

“That’s a long shot, Spencer.”

“I know, but… it’s not that long. He obviously gets off on it—and besides, he said you were putting on a show, but you weren’t… you weren’t loud, last night.”

Heats blossoms in your cheeks and you look down at your lap. “Thin walls.”

“Have you ever heard your neighbors before?”

You have to seriously think about it. 

“I’ve heard them yelling…”

“Nothing else?”

Again, you consider it. The answer comes as a surprise. 

“No.”

“Okay, so… does that maybe help a little bit? I really, really don’t want you to feel like last night was a mistake in any way, or let anyone ruin it for you.”

You breathe deeply. “I know. It… it kinda helps, yeah.”

His hands come to the top of your legs. There’s so much genuine care and concern in his eyes. “Yeah?”

Only when you nod does he relax some. His hands skim your thighs, and you set yours on top of his own. For a few breaths, it’s quiet. And then you laugh. 

“What?” Spencer asks, a tentative smile curling his own lips like he doesn’t know if he should be concerned or participate in your mirth. 

“I—I don’t know how to say it without being cheesy,” you admit, sniffling the last of your tears away and smiling softly down at him. 

“I think you should say it.”

You link your fingers with his on your lap, watching the way they twine like it’s what they were meant to do. 

“I was just thinking about how I had, like, the worst day ever. And how much worse it would’ve gotten if you didn’t show up when you did—I would’ve completely spiraled. But you did show up. And how easy it is to kind of compartmentalize, because I have you, and when I’m with you… nothing feels as hard. You make the bad things feel smaller, I guess.”

By the end, it got a lot more real than you’d intended, and your face feels warm, and your stomach is sort of floaty—but you don’t look away from Spencer. You hold his gaze, though it makes you a little nervous, because you want him to know you mean it. 

He inhales, like he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t—only looks at you, like you’re beautiful and impossible and a defiance of everything he thought he knew, which was almost everything. To him, you’re expansive. A gorgeous anomaly.

And then he stands, holding his hands out for you. Without question you take them, and he pulls you to your feet, absorbing the momentum that threatens to topple you, and he wraps his arms around you tightly. So tight you have to laugh. 

“I love you,” he says against your shoulder, one hand coming to cradle the back of your head. 

Your humor softens, but doesn’t become inflexible—still tinges your words with the perfect amount of euphoria and relief. “I love you.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles, and your laughter flares again. 

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“But I’m grateful. I… I feel lucky.”

Always so earnest, so vulnerable, when you’re least expecting it—which should be always, you’re learning. You pull back to look up at him. You don’t want that concession to go unrewarded. 

“Me too,” you say softly. He’s doing that fond thing with his eyes, where they’re all soft and it’s like he’s trying to take in every millimeter of your face. This time when he goes to touch your hair, you have the wherewithal to dodge it. 

“You’re really brave for trying to touch my hair right now.”

“Why?” He asks, utterly bewildered, and the softness of the moment falls away easily, but not without leaving everything smudged and fuzzy around the edges. Everything is still okay. It’s still good. 

“Because it’s dirty,” you laugh, dodging him again and eventually ducking from the circle of his arms entirely. 

“Oh, your hair is dirty? Should we breakup?”

“Hm. I don’t really like when you take on that tone with me.” You’re still half-laughing, dipping and weaving past him toward the bathroom as he tries to get you in his arms again. And then you stop, toes just short of the tile. 

“What is it?” He asks after another moment. You blink, looking at the shower head as it drips. 

“Um—would it be okay if I had a five minute headstart in the shower?”

“Sure. Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine. I just… I need a minute.”

His hand skims your waist as he passes by you through the open door. “Okay. Why don’t you grab your stuff and I’ll get the water going again?”

Soon enough, you’re remembering how much better his water pressure is than yours as you stand under the torrent, eyes closed as if in prayer. You definitely could’ve stood to shower earlier in the day. But you had other concerns, earlier, and besides—you were afraid of what you might find. 

And you were right to be. The sex was nice. The aftermath isn’t quite as pretty. 

When Spencer taps on the bathroom door, you’re nervous. 

“You can come in,” you call. 

“You sure? If you want it all to yourself, that’s okay too.”

“No, no. It’s fine.”

The door creaks open, and gently clicks into place again, and fabric rustles as he undresses, and soon the shower curtain is sliding aside and he’s stepping in. Unsurprisingly, the space feels smaller with him in it—but not small in a bad way. It feels warmer. Again you’re awash in that safe feeling, which you didn’t realize you’d been missing so much today. 

“Hi,” he smiles, a teasing sliver of what you know to be the most brilliant light in the world, and stunning like the rest of him as you watch the water begin to darken his hair. 

“Hello.”

His smile flickers briefly wider like you’re his favorite thing and he just can’t contain his joy, and then it’s easing again, giving you a moment to catch your breath. 

“Is it okay if I touch you?”

In this alien context the idea has your heart pounding—you don’t really understand the concept of casual nudity yet, but you know he’ll respect your earlier wishes to keep it chaste and so you nod. 

Spencer doesn’t take you immediately in his arms like you’d expected—instead his hands find a rest at your collarbones and carefully push your wet hair back over your shoulders—but his eyes aren’t cast quite low enough to be indecent. They connect dots over your chest and neck, and he thumbs at one just over your pulse point. 

“Oh, man,” he laughs, and you think you detect a hint of self-deprecation. “That’s… wow, I didn’t realize I… sorry. They don’t hurt, do they?”

It’s your turn to smile as he’s suddenly over-concerned. 

“No, they don’t hurt.”

“Good.” He looks relieved, but it doesn’t last as his eyes trace lower—though you don’t sense any hunger in it. He’s just taking you in. “How about everywhere else?”

“Um… it’s not bad. Kind of, like… I don’t know. Sore. But it’s not bad.”

“Still?” He frowns, clearly unfazed by your evident embarrassment on the subject. You shrug and avert your eyes. 

“It’s fine. it was worse earlier, so.”

That does not have the calming effect you’d intended. 

“Worse? 1-10, how—”

“Spencer, it’s fine, I promise. It’s only when I—when I move certain ways, I notice. Honestly the… blood… was way more disconcerting to me.”

“Yeah, I saw your bed… sorry for ruining your sheets. I’ll buy you new ones.”

You shrug, watching the water run in rivulets down your arm and branch off into tributaries and waterfalls from your fingers. “You don’t have to do that. It was a collaborative effort.”

Normally this conversation would have you melting into an embarrassed puddle, but something about the tile cocoon of the shower, the humid fog, the proximity, feels safe. The white noise of water on porcelain, the warmth. You go to him at the same time as he comes to you—his arms around your waist, yours slung over his shoulders. Your eyes flutter shut. Falling asleep standing up has never seemed so plausible until now. 

He presses a kiss to your head. You sigh. 

“Ugh. I don’t want to deal with washing my hair.”

“I can do it,” Spencer immediately offers. You frown. 

“I was—you don’t have to. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I was asking.”

“I know you didn’t.”

“It’s a process.”

“I understand.”

“You would have to do it exactly how I say.”

“I am willing to learn. I like taking care of you.”

You’re glad for the hot water, then, and as he washes your hair. You’re not sure if you’re crying at the tenderness of his touch, or the way he loves you like you’re easy to love. You’re too tired to explain it. 

He doesn’t push you, because he never pushes you. 

He just washes your hair. 

-

part ten

[fangisms]

Hi would u be able to do a Theo not x fem reader where they are enemies and the reader is a cat animagus and he finds us somewhere in our cat form and takes us with him and is like cuddling the cat and everyone knows it’s us and finds it funny

cat and mouse

A/N: thinking about this DEEPLY giggling and kicking my feet WITH DETERMINATION. (gif creds: @thickdickgrayson)

Pairings: Theodore Nott x Fem!Animagus!Reader

Summary: Theo finds a stray cat in the library. Turns out that stray cat is his sworn enemy.

Warnings: fluff, enemies to lovers, cat animagus, cursing, banter, pet names (kitten, micina, kittycat)

Meow?

Theo whips his head around at the noise. And there he sees a cat sat poised and proper at the center of the potions aisle of the library. Why is there a cat sat at the center of the potions aisle of the library. The cat tilts its head.

“Shh... We’re in a library,” he huffs, flipping through the first few pages of a book with a deep blue cover. He turns on his heel and heads for the small desk pushed up against the wall. The cat slinks after him, leaping from the floor to the chair to the desk.

“Pest,” Theo says. “You know, if you’re choosing to sit there, you’ll have to share with my books.”

The cat sits.

“Have it your way.”

Theo tries not to pay any more mind to the stray as he studies the reactivity of unicorn blood. Luckily, the cat doesn’t move much so it’s not very hard for him to stay focused. It only sinks into itself as it settles, lying on the table. He rolls his eyes and gives in to the cat’s wicked tactics, drawing the tips of his fingers between the little thing’s ears. It begins to purr.

“You’re not so bad. In fact, I’ve had much worse study partners. I’d take you over Matty any day.”

Deciding the cat has foiled his every attempt at retaining information, Theo packs up, reshelves the book, and heads for the library doors.

Meow.

“No, little pest, I can’t take you with me. I’ve already got enough vermin to take care of.”

But her big, dumb eyes twinkle up at him and suddenly he can’t refuse.

“Oh, whatever,” as he holds the door open for her to happily trot through.

She follows him coyly into the great hall, hopping up into the space he usually occupies at mealtime. He stares incredulously at the cat who responds with a jeer: meow. So that’s how it’s going to be. Give an inch and these damn things take a mile.

Pansy leans into Mattheo’s side, whispering, “Isn’t that—?”

“Yes, dear Pansy. Yes, it is,” he chuckles while bringing his cup to his lips. Theo grumbles, trying his best to shoo his new pet out of his spot before finally, begrudgingly, opting to share. What he doesn’t expect is when she curls into his lap after he sits beside her.

He sighs then, scratching its back and fixing himself a plate. He’s a little puzzled as to why the seat directly across from him is vacant, though. That’s usually where you taunt him from every meal. But lately, you’ve been absent.

“Have either of you seen—”

“Nope!” Pansy chuffs through a grin, “not since the last time you asked. Anyway, aren’t you two sworn to be mortal enemies or something?”

Mattheo clears his throat, eyes flicking from the cat in Theo’s lap to its adoring new owner. “Pansy’s right, Theo. You mention her an awful lot for someone who claims to hate her with the fire of a million suns,” he teases, suddenly turning his attention and cocking a brow, “Ohhh, I get it; you love her.”

“No,” Theo huffs petulantly, “She’s my potions partner, and I seem to be doing all the work on our group project.”

“Oh,” Matty rolls his eyes, “your potions partner. Right.”

“Shut up.”

Theo spends the rest of the night up in the dormitories. His cat friend had refused to climb the stairs, and Theo found the kindness in his heart to carry her up the stairs. He has to admit he melted a little when she started purring against his chest halfway to the door.

She finds herself a comfortable spot on his bed, settling contentedly in a ball beside his books and papers.

“Some study partner you are,” he says. He can’t help but amuse her, occasionally taking study breaks to scratch her chin and wonder how long she’d stick around for.

Except, in the morning, he’s a little confused to find a human girl in his bed. In fact, she’s the one human girl he’s known to dislike more than any other. What kind of cruel trick is this. Had Matty really put all that effort into sneaking his enemy into his bed. Matty doesn’t even show up for class half the time.

You stir and stretch your arms above your head, eyes flicking open to an unfamiliar setting. This surely isn’t the girl’s dormitory. So where are you.

“You?” a voice accuses from just above you. Theo sits up, and you startle, teetering off the edge of the bed with a thud.

“Fuck,” you huff, scrambling to your feet and straightening your robes with a frightened look on your face. “Right. I’ll see you… around!”

You’re out the door before he can call after you. Would he even call after you? You’re not sure, but you’re also not going to stick around and find out.

Theo’s heart races in his chest. He’s about to call after you, but he’s too flustered to get the words out so he hurls himself backward on the bed with a sigh.

…

A week trudges by without a sign of you. Honestly, he’s more worried you haven’t been attending meals. And he no longer sees you on weekend group outings. He almost misses your targetted quips. And your laugh. Even if it was at him.

He knows you’re alive, though. A packet had slipped underneath the door as he was getting ready for bed one night. The worksheet had both your names on it; it detailed the instructions to the potions assignment. In your handwriting. But it was worthless without you here to help him in person. He thinks himself crazy, catching glimpses of cat tails around corners or paws pouncing between tree branches.

But he thinks, he can’t be crazy staring at the cat perched still beneath one of the benches in the quad. So he sits and bends down to nudge your cat cheek with the pad of his finger.

“Here, kitty kitty,” he hums. Your eyes blink open, staring at him blankly before pacing out from under the bench and hopping up next to him with a determined stretch. He doesn’t believe his eyes when the docile cat he’s been hunting for the last week transforms into you.

You shrug, not daring to look in his eyes for fear of admitting defeat. “You found me.”

“I’ve missed you, micina,” he teases. Though, maybe there’s a grain of truth in his taunt. But you only roll your eyes.

“Don’t be weird, Nott.”

He scoffs. “Okay, you don’t like me, but you laid on my lap, cuddle with me, spent hours just hanging around me… It’s very confusing.”

“Yeah. So?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“Yeah. So… why?”

You sigh, “just because I think you’re obnoxious doesn’t mean… I don’t like you—”

“Oh, no?”

“Shh, I’m trying to explain!” But it’s hard when you’re both on the verge of laughing at your shared hypocrisy. “We’re… I mean I didn’t think you liked me either! What’s your excuse?”

“You’re changing the subject, kittycat.”

You groan, now turning to face him with all the determination of a militia.

“We’re meant to be rivals, you know. We’re the same blood status, the same house, we have the same damned friend group, and no matter how hard I try, you still manage to get slightly higher marks than me!”

“I know,” he teases.

“So… I wanted to see what you were doing differently.”

“So you slept in my bed?”

“I had a change of plans!” you squeak, shrugging when he chuckles under his breath.

“Which was?”

“Well…” You shake your head, realzing it sounds a little silly under his scrutiny like this. “Maybe if I distracted you, you’d do poorly on your OWLs.”

He snickers.

“But we got the same score so…” you groan, “we cuddled for nothing.” He sets his hand gently on your knee, and for once, you can’t tell if he’s messing with you or not.

“Nothing? Really?”

He leans in closer, and now you’re sure he’s trying to distract you. You press your hand to his chest and he watches your eyes widen with amusement.

“No! No, it’s your turn. I’d like you to hear your reason since you’ve already proven yourself to be better than me and any reason you give is going to be a load of bull—”

“You talk too much.” He says it with a smug expression, looking down on you while leaning back into his palms.

“That’s not”—you squint at him, just knowing he’s taking the piss—“I barely talk to you at all. In fact, I only do so when I’m forced!”

“No, you misunderstand me,” he hums, expression softening as his voice lowers, suddenly becoming a much more private conversation, “You talk too much to everyone but me.”

Your jaw goes slack, and he smiles a little, knowing the way both of your hearts race when you look in his eyes.

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh,” he teases, nudging your arm and shifting closer, “Come on, micina mia, you didn’t really think I hated you. It’s all talk. I mean, you can be annoyingly pretty at times, and I hate it when you ignore me, but I could never hate you. Not now that I know your little secret… kitten.”

He’s surprised when you laugh, grabbing his arm to steady yourself.

“Theo, I think everyone knows my little secret but you,” you say, grinning at him in pure delight at his disbelief.

“You’re joking!”

“No!”

“Those bastards,” he huffs, thinking of Matty and Pansy whispering and giggling in the great hall. You stand and brush off your robe, and he follows hurriedly, hovering next to you.

“More cuddling?” he teases, and you turn to him with a smile.

“Got a thing for cats, Nott?”

“No, no,”—He matches your grin and leans in to gently peck your cheek—“Just a thing for you.”

masterlist

[rivendell-poet]

Hello! If it’s not too much to ask, can I request platonic headcanons for the Fellowship with a female reader that’s a human teenager? She’s not as good as fighting as them, and at first glance she seems approachable and easygoing, but she’s clever and can oftentimes outwit her opponents with creative combat moves. She’s also sort of a little sister to them, albeit a quite reckless and charming one.

I just love platonic LOTR because I feel like they would all be such great friends in their own way :’) Please take your time with this request, and I wish you a lovely day/night ❤️

Hey anon, so sorry it took me this long to answer but I hope you enjoy! I'm absolutely a sucker for platonic Lord of the Rings fiction, all of the characters are so sibling-coded! You have a lovely day/night too, and thanks so much for requesting!

*･༓˚✧❝𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠❞‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « headcanons »

○ Aragorn ○ Legolas ○ Gimli ○ Boromir ○ Pippin ○ Merry ○ Frodo ○ Sam ○

GN!Reader | No TWs | Wordcount : 2.1k

𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐧

✧ Years of putting up with being the younger brother of the twins has finally paid off.

✧ Never truly got the appeal of younger siblings until you came around.

✧ (Understands better than most that family is not just blood, but is based on who you choose and who you want to be around. Genuinely hopes he falls under that for you.)

✧ Worries about you but tries not to make it obvious, checking up on you in a more casual way like slowing his walking speed so he can be in time with you then ask about your day.

✧ Understands that your skills mean you should be in this fellowship - but did you have to give him a heart-attack after almost not parrying the cave troll? Poor man is already trying to keep up with the hobbits, and now you.

✧ Does admire the creativity you use in your attacks and is quick to praise it, occasionally shares anecdotes of his less-than-ordinary ‘weapons’ and how he used them.

✧ Subtly tries to get you to pick up more combat skills by offering to spar with you when Boromir spars with the hobbits.

✧ Is a very patient teacher, willing to go over things multiple times and demonstrates what to do very well.

✧ Does not appreciate the recklessness either; you have made him realise just how much he needs to apologise to Elrond and the twins for his youth. Tries to stop you from doing it under the guise that you’re ‘encouraging the hobbits’.

✧ You realise this is a ruse when he tells you it at Helm’s Deep, with precisely no hobbits to be found. Aragorn does not apologise for this.

✧ Notices you actively being charming and takes you under his wing in that regard, teaching you about diplomacy.

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

✧ Legolas doesn’t understand just how young you are until the topic of the Fellowship’s ages comes up and you’re the youngest by a decade. Doesn’t think this is a big deal until he sees Boromir do a slight double-take.

✧ Talks with you after and realises the age, you try and reassure him with the ‘I’m mature for my age’ and he doesn’t accept it.

✧ Firmly next to you for the first few days after it, although he doesn’t baby you - he’s just overprotective.

✧ Feels bad about not realising previously.

✧ Is a single child, to a single father, so doesn’t really realise how closely he regards you as family until he starts teaching you elvish words and family comes up. How the first words he thinks of, that he believes you should know, are ‘brother’ and ‘little sibling’.

✧ Does one of his odd elven stares at you with this realisation. You ask him and he blinks before apologising, stating it’s an elf thing.

✧ You don’t believe it and ask Aragorn. The ranger looks from you to Legolas, sees the worry in Legolas’ eyes, and decides on mercy by backing it up.

✧ Insists on teaching you archery. Isn’t sure whether to be impressed or offended when you stab an orc with an arrow instead of shooting it. It works… he supposes.

✧ Never slips up until he’s introducing you to his father in Elvish, and accidentally calls you his younger sibling instead of his friend.

✧ You know just enough elvish to realise what he’s said (combined with the look on Thranduil’s face) and smile. Then ask him later if he could have given you that realisation anywhere except in front of his father.

𝐆𝐢𝐦𝐥𝐢

✧ Immediately loves you for your charm, and the fact you engage in deep conversation with him instead of assuming all dwarves only speak basically and are incapable of eloquence.

✧ Certainly teaches you a lot when it comes to charm and wit, and by the end of your journey your speaking with a few too many dwarf idioms for a human teenager.

✧ Would totally be willing to teach you Khuzdul if you wanted to. Refuses to tell you what the terms of endearment he calls you are (‘little treasure’, ‘spark’, and sometimes ‘younger sibling’)

✧ Is very grateful none of the rest of the Fellowship know enough about dwarven culture to call him out on the little things he does for you, like making sure your weapons are polished to an immaculate degree or keeping your food warm for you using rocks.

✧ Offers to braid your hair for you before Helm’s Deep, both grateful you don’t understand dwarf customs and not.

✧ (He’d be much too embarrassed to offer you his familial braid if you knew what it meant).

✧ When you ask to braid his hair he helps you create a unique braid, with dwarvish meaning. That’s how you figure out what the braid he gave you means.

✧ As long as you’re winning your fights he doesn’t care how you’re using a weapon - he still admires good tactics.

✧ Complains that teenagers are too busy growing awkwardly to use the proper dwarven techniques of fighting.

✧ Laughs a bit too much when he tries to teach you his style and you fall over while trying to swing his hammer in a circle.

𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ Literally an older sibling. Adopts Merry and Pippin in all but law, and will do exactly the same to you as well. You have little choice in this manner.

✧ Shows his affection to you mainly by spending time with you and listening to you because that’s what he’s always done with Faramir. However he’s fairly observant, and if he can tell you’d rather be doing something else (like whittling or scouting) he’ll happily do that.

✧ Cares more about the fact he’s spending time with you than what he’s doing with that time.

✧ Also has a minor heart attack when he realises how old you are. Knows he’s had recruits the same age as you, but this is different. He’s not actively trying to lead those recruits with him to Mordor.

✧ Very good combat teacher, as it was his job for a while. Best with a sword and shield but will adapt to your weapon of choice, he can use pretty much all of them.

✧ After he witnesses you mess up a sword-thrust and almost gets impaled he gives you his shield. You protest, and he says you can give it back to him once you’ll be able to protect yourself without him.

✧ Highly complimentary of your wit in battle, is aware of how often people overlook wisdom in combat compared to brute force (*cough, cough* Denethor) and makes sure you’re praised enough for your actions.

✧ Often speaks about introducing you to Faramir and how he hopes you’ll like each often, shares a lot of anecdotes from when the two were younger. (Has very occasionally called you his brother’s name by accident.)

✧ Tries to make sure you spend time on your journey exploring the world, like Rivendell, so that you can keep your sense of wonder. Hopes you’ll retain it even after everything.

𝐏𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧

✧ Closest in age to you, which he very much appreciates. Hobbits generally aren’t considered adults until their thirty (and he’s only twenty-nine) so jokes about the two of you being so much better than all the old corpses over here.

✧ Tries to convince you to make fun of Boromir and Aragorn’s age with him. One of his ways to cheer you up is to point at the ranger and simply say ‘old’.

✧ Did that once to Gandalf, and then never again to Gandalf. (Also tries to get you to help him with Gandalf.)

✧ In an odd way, you not being especially skilled in combat is quite comforting to him - it’s nice to know there are folk outside the Shire who sometimes struggle with this as well.

✧ Complains in a joking manner when he sees you use skill to fend off goblins and that you lied to him.

✧ “You told me you weren’t that good at combat, not that you’re a tactical genius!”

✧ Wants to offer you pipeweed but isn’t sure if you should be able to have it. Boromir and Aragorn disagree. Goes with whatever you decide (although also would never pressure you into smoking if you don’t want to).

✧ Is genuinely disappointed when he doesn’t become taller than you after the ent draft. Insists life is unfair, and that you should be down on his level.

✧ Asks if you’ll help him and Merry finally bring down Boromir honourably. (Fails to see that you coming up behind the warrior would not be considered honourable.)

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲

✧ Treats you a lot like he does Pippin, in that he’s very open with you, one of his main goals is to make you laugh, and he constantly looks out for you.

✧ Also nicknames, tries so many nicknames. Even if your name can’t be shortened he still gives you one, it’s just more nonsensical. Will see you’ve got slightly more radish in your soup than everyone else and call you ‘rad’ for the next day. Sees nothing wrong with what he is doing.

✧ Very excited to discover the Shire love for mischief and pranks is present in humans as well - or at least in you.

✧ Pippin tries to persuade you to play pranks on Merry with him, but you always side with the latter.

✧ Will not allow you to criticise your combat skills - even if it’s constructive and not self-deprecating. (“No, the orc literally almost took my arm off Merry.” “Well, with that attitude it certainly almost did!”)

✧ Tries to initiate sparring matches between you and Boromir by seeing you standing next to each other and shouting ‘fight’.

✧ This fails to work because two hobbits shouting at you isn’t intimidating, and there aren’t enough of them to circle you. He did once manage to convince Legolas to join in the chanting, however.

✧ Spends a lot of time climbing the scenery to get elevation so he can hug you without you bending down.

✧ Tells Éowyn everything about you, and is very complimentary.

𝐒𝐚𝐦

✧ Takes care of you in much the same way he takes care of Frodo. Gandalf may not have made him swear to protect you, but he’s certainly going to anyway.

✧ Often asking if he can mend any clothing that’s gotten torn, and when you get it back you’ll find a small piece of embroidery next to where he’s repaired the garment for you.

✧ It’s generally whatever you’ve been talking about and has made you smile the most in your conversations.

✧ Sometimes feels a little awkward trying to protect you, seeing how he’s only a hobbit and you’re a big folk - but he does his best.

✧ Tries to get you and Frodo to stay together so he can protect both of his friends at the same time.

✧ When he sees you fall behind in combat, he’ll sometimes offer to spar. He knows it’s not much but it puts a smile on your face and that’s what matters.

✧ Cheers you on if you spar with Boromir.

✧ Always makes sure you and Frodo have the best bits of the food. Vehemently denies this if confronted by either of you.

✧ Worries about you being on the journey, seeing how young you are, but if Frodo has put his faith in him then Sam will certainly put his faith in you.

✧ Also very complimentary of your creative thinking in combat, you can sometimes hear him talking to the other hobbits about it (absolutely with a tone of reverence/awe).

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐨

✧ Probably the most grateful that you’ve come of anyone, and the second most understanding family doesn’t have to be blood.

✧ Even though Bilbo is technically just his uncle he knows they behave much closer. And when he meets you he realises that family truly isn’t about blood at all.

✧ Most used to you being human, he’s spent time with Gandalf, so he knows how to talk to you and is the quickest of the hobbits to warm up to you.

✧ He’s also the first to acknowledge he sees you as a sibling, while talking about you visiting the Shire.

✧ Instantly stops and pauses to see if you’re alright with what he just said before continuing, slightly more embarrassed but still enthusiastic.

✧ After discovering Sting he’s very willing to try sparring you, and the two of you try and learn together.

✧ He’s similar in that he tries to rely on smarter moves to beat the goblins, but often talks about yours with good-natured envy.

✧ The two of you share tricks after each battle, or at least tricks that are applicable.

✧ Often likes to sit with you and Sam when the ring is particularly bad, because you help centre him. Help remind him what he’s fighting for.

A/N : Thanks for reading, and thanks again for the request! I do love platonic lotr, so feel free to keep requesting that! Also, I now have a taglist - so that's fun. If you wish to join, feel free - and no pressure if not. Really like the idea of a reader who struggles with sword-work but is creative, so honestly might expand on that as well.

thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ wish to be tagged?

[id0what1want]

Carmine.

I've been reserved, but I'm gonna come out and say it. Carmine is a very multifaceted character just like her brother, and similarly to him, many people like to pick and choose what they evaluate to simplify her into something either hyper-villified or super one note 'she didn't mean it, and nothing is her fault'. The truth of the matter is that the Teal Mask is a messy situation and trying to figure out who is at fault is beside the point cuz blaming Carmine or Kieran or the player or anything else ruins the nuance and the complexity.

A lot of Carmine's mischaracterization comes from the fact that all of her dialogue is not directly indicative of her character and often isn't exactly one to one how she feels about something. Carmine is a character that struggles a LOT with conveying/receiving tone and is very prone to misunderstanding AND being misunderstood.

Her relationship with Kieran is by no means perfect and way more realistically messy than most fictional sibling portrayals. Many sibling relationships, ESPECIALLY the ones between a sister and brother, have very harsh rivalries, especially at certain age differences. There is constant competition since they're just old enough to want the same things, but far enough apart to claim seniority. I should also mention that throwing neurodivergence into the mix is even MORE volatile, especially the kind that we're working with when it comes to the Kitakami siblings.

It would not surprise me at all if Carmine was also bullied by her peers and it just presented differently. Carmine herself is socially oblivious and has a lot of pride so it seems like snide comments would roll of her back- but look at the things that Carmine cares about. Beauty, power, coolness. She's fiercely loyal to Mossui Town and Kieran was canonically bullied for coming from 'the boonies'. It's not far to venture that Carmine herself suffered the same treatment and her hostility towards outsiders in her hometown stems from that.

Carmine also DOES think highly of Kieran. She thinks he is a skilled trainer and also knows that he has thick skin because they grew up together. They also grew up together without their parents or other kids significantly in the picture. Even with their grandparents, this leads to a dynamic where Carmine and Kieran have each other first and foremost. They share blood and that doesn't count for nothing, and even further they share traits by nature because of it. Both siblings have a deep-set jealous streak and sense of pride, one that isn't immediately relatable to everyone and can even isolate them from other people, but not necessarily from each other. She looks out for his best interest, though it doesn't always come off right.

Carmine isn't self-aware majority of the time. When she is rude, it's not always intentional and her expression of her thoughts or emotions isn't always accurate because Carmine feels strong, complicated things. It's a struggle to verbose them correctly and she seems not to have been taught how to regulate or voice her emotions accurately, instead expressing herself through HER means instead of everyone else's. When Carmine defends Kieran's mask before the festival, that is an expression of her love. When she seeks out the player despite her distaste specifically on Kieran's behalf, that is an expression of her love. Carmine's actions are normally very well-intentioned but don't always come out that way. As a neurodivergent person myself, I completely understand this.

When she lies to Kieran about the ogre, she is attempting to preserve his friendship with the player and his bond with her, and it's because she KNOWS Kieran will be jealous. Was it wrong to do that? Totally! Was she right down the line. Also yes. Carmine does take full responsibility in being Kieran's sister and takes that role very seriously. Turning Kieran over to the player like she did in the beginning is actually a big sign of maturity from Carmine we don't see super often. She swallows her jealousy and pride, risking Kieran finding some outsider cooler than her, because she wants him to have friends outside of her despite being naturally possessive.

Carmine has a very strong sense of justice and this twists when applied to her relationship with Kieran. The two bicker a lot and have a strong leader-follower dynamic, with Carmine sometimes bullying Kieran into listening to her. Carmine is normally not taken seriously outside of Kieran and feels the need to berate people into respecting her. It's not right, but it's how she feels. It's not healthy but it's also not completely abnormal for siblings to be like this. My own siblings are like this and as a family unit we have all fought for dominance, not always in savory, healthy ways. I'm not saying she's right- I'm saying she's a teenage girl that deals with things in messy ways because she's a teenage girl. Kieran often gets the teenager pass (granted, he is younger.) but I also see Drayton getting the teenage pass when he's of comparable or older age than Carmine.

Drayton is also a hot topic with Carmine. Setting aside my own hcs, their objective relationship is antagonistic both ways. Drayton is of course not the devil Carmine treats him as, but it's very well established that Carmine struggles a) to read people and b) to warm up to people. It doesn't help that Drayton goes out of his way to irritate and antagonize her. It's not extreme of course, but Carmine is distrusting, and angers easily which Drayton is amused by. There is NOTHING more annoying than getting mad at something and somebody laughs in your face. Especially from a neurodiverse and bullied perspective- what Drayton is doing is NOT bullying- but Carmine again likely grew up bullied and made fun of, specifically FOR her temper. Growing up, older boys would deliberately irritate me to the point of a meltdown because they thought it was funny to watch me freak out. Things like that are stressful and also SUPER impact emotional regulation in a person. And while Carmine is aggressive, she senses a scheme from Drayton against her brother. She is already insanely loyal to Kieran and after her shortcomings in the Teal Mask she's DEFINITELY going to be hypersensitive about not making Kieran any worse. Drayton being cryptic and treating it all so lightly is bound to get on her nerves, and he already violates her sense of justice with his behavior. Don't get me wrong, I love Drayton, but he also has the emotional intelligence to know better to act in certain ways that he does. What Carmine is doing is essentially a cat puffing up and swiping at a perceived threat, and instead of calming the cat down, Drayton agitates it further to tease it. Carmine, while aggressive with her words, is actually surprisingly tame and restrained. It's obvious to me at least that she is trying to regulate herself and is not nearly aggressive as she could be. Carmine to me in this situation is barking but not biting- she's looking out for the safety of everyone around her, but she can't make a sound enough judgement of his intention to actually bite so she isn't going to. Carmine doesn't genuinely want to hurt Drayton. She has a temper, especially a verbal one, that he pokes fun at and thus she has a negative association with him.

I guess I'm just reallllly tired of people acting like Carmine and Kieran are either completely innocent, erasing the complicated writing behind their actions, or holding them to an unfair moral standard since it's pretty obvious that these kids should have been seeing a behavioral therapist and had more intervention growing up. (Behavioral therapy is not a desperate need but also I firmly believe that most kids should see therapists, even if they're having troubles on this medium a scale. Carmine and Kieran aren't nonfunctional, but they also weren't taught strategies to self-regulate which seeing a therapist would've helped with growing up).

Also the vilification of autistic traits in women pisses me off. Like can we please not condemn Carmine for shit that we actively excuse in other characters, please and thank you. She's not a raging bitch but she's also not the well-mannered pretty girl people want her to be. Women are slightly bitchy and suddenly that's grounds to excuse awful treatment of them and c'mon guys.

[stnkiconverse]

HI ITS YOUR GIRL SWANONNN

im interested in sum....enemies to lovers.... with toby....

-🦢

Enemies to Lovers - Ticci Toby x Proxy!Reader

- You and Toby are oil and water from the start. His sharp tongue and impulsiveness immediately put you on edge, while your no-nonsense attitude only fuels his irritation.

- He has a knack for throwing off your focus, his muttered sarcasm or outright refusal to collaborate during missions always sends your blood boiling.

- "For someone who talks so b-big, you're pretty bad at k-keeping up," he'd mock after outrunning you in the field.

- "And for someone who's so 'skilled’ you sure love making my job harder," you'd shoot back.

- The tension comes to a head during a high-stakes mission.
His recklessness forces you to cover for him, leaving you both bruised and pissed.

- You corner him afterward, chest heaving as you shout, "Do you even care that you almost got us both killed?!"

- Toby's jaw tightens, his usual smirk absent. "I didn't a-ask you to save me." His words sting, but his tone is more defensive than combative, like you've hit a nerve.

- After that mission, something shifts. You start noticing things about him you hadn't before, how his hands shake when he's still for too long or the way he fiddles with a small, battered notebook when he thinks no one's watching.

- One night, you find him sitting alone on the porch, hood pulled low as he stares at the stars.

- Instead of walking past, you sit down beside him. He doesn't look at you, but he doesn't move away either.

- "W-why do you care so m-much?" he asks quietly after a long silence.

- The vulnerability in his voice catches you off guard.

- Slowly, the hostility between you softens. Toby starts listening to you during missions (mostly 🥲), and you stop snapping at him over every little thing.

- He begins showing up in your space more often, dropping little jokes or leaning against the wall as if daring you to tell him to leave.

- You catch him sketching once, his natepad open to a rough but surprisingly detailed drawing of a bird. He notices you staring and slams it shut, cheeks flushing slightly. "W-what? Never seen someone d-draw before?"

- During another dangerous encounter, you get hurt protecting him. For once, Toby doesn't crack a joke or brush it off. Instead, he's frantic, hands clumsy as he tries to stop the bleeding.

- "Why the hell w-would you do t-that?" he demands, voice shaking. You can't tell if he's angry or scared.

- "Because l'm not going to let you get yourself killed," you reply, and for a moment, he just stares at you, something unreadable in his expression.

- After that, Toby becomes noticeably more protective. He doesn't say anything outright, but he's always nearby, watching your back during missions and lingering a little longer in your shared spaces.

- The teasing doesn't stop, but it changes, less biting, more playful. He starts calling you nicknames that are just annoying enough to make you roll your eyes but secretly make your chest tighten.

- One rainy evening, he invites you to sit with him on the porch.

- "Y-you're quieter than I thought you'd b-be," he says after a while, the corners of his lips twitching up in a small smile.

- It's not a grand, all-out moment, Toby isn't that kind of guy.

- Instead, it happens during a quiet night in the aftermath of another mission.

- "You kn-know," he says, not meeting your eyes as he fidgets with a loose thread on his sleeve, "y-you're not as bad as I th-thought."

- You laugh. "High praise coming from you."

- He finally looks at you, his expression unusually serious. "I mean it. You... you make all this c-crap a little easier to d-deal with."

- The kiss that follows is skeptical at first, as if neither of you can believe it's actually happening.

- But when he pulls back, there's a fondness in his eyes that makes your heart ache.

- Toby doesn't change totally, he's still brash, sarcastic, and occasionally infuriating.

- But he's also fiercely loyal, sticking close to you and showing his care in subtle ways, like leaving snacks outside your door or quietly patching you up after missions.

- "G-guess you're stuck with m-me now," he says one day, his smirk as annoying as ever.

- But the way he squeezes your hand tells you he means it in a way he doesn't know how to put into words.

SWANON IM SO SORRY FOR MAKING U WAIT THIS LONG😔😔

[purple-babygirl]

in the far corner of the forest III

Pairing: Orc!Bucky Barnes x human!f!reader

Word Count: 6,540

Summary: For the longest time, the kingdom has used Bucky as their number one fighter, forcing him to win their wars for them. The only thing he asked for in return after he was done was that they give him a wife, and they did. They handed him the orphan he picked on a silver platter; it wasn't like anyone would miss her. It would've been perfect if she actually wanted to be there though.

Warnings: hand injury, mentions of blood, wound sutures/stitches, angry behaviour, jealousy, fighting, crying, racism against orcs. I think that's all.

A/N: this is the longest part yet because it might take me a while with part 4 depending on how the very important interview i have on the 17th goes. please send me good wishes on the stars if possible i would really appreciate it. And please enjoy this one and let me know what you thought if you can xx💜💜

~

“I got you something, little human,” Bucky said, his tone softer than it was that same afternoon as he scratched the back of his head.

He was new to courting, and it wasn’t exactly normal that he was courting his already-wife. Still, he was doing everything possible.

Bucky’s life has all been about fighting and wars. He didn’t do love or courtship. He didn’t do coddling or romancing. But there was a first time for everything and he was trying his best.

“Thank you,” she replied without looking up, pretending to be focused on folding laundry.

She was ignoring him.

Bucky had let his voice get loud a couple of hours ago after he had found her lost in the forest again. Only this time her foot was already messed up and she needed the rest, but she wouldn’t listen.

It hurt him how much pain she was willing to go through if it meant she could get away from him, but he wouldn’t let it show.

Instead, he yelled in frustration as he brought her back to their cottage.

She seemed like she wouldn’t quit, and so he wasn’t going to quit either.

Despite her constant rejection, Bucky refused to give up, his determination fueled by a newfound sense of purpose. He was willing to endure anything, face anything, if it meant earning even a glimmer of acceptance, or even affection, from her.

“You didn’t even see what I got you,” Bucky tried again, hoping she would at least look at him.

When she did, he gave a tiny smile and walked to the cottage door, bringing something inside.

“Here.” He dragged in a shiny wooden chair and placed it before his on their small dining table.

“You bought me a chair,” she said, pretending to be uninterested to hide the warmth that just spread throughout her heart.

“I made you a chair,” Bucky corrected, proudly palming the smooth wood, swiping his tongue over his tusks.

Bucky knew gifts were an essential part of courting and he didn’t like how she had to eat on the bed while he ate alone on the dining table because he only owned one chair.

He knew his days as a loner were long gone and it made his heart swell that he had her to share his house and life with now.

So he got to work and decided to make her her own chair out of an old oak tree. Being a lumberjack who had a woodworking shop had its perks after all.

It was going to be a weekend surprise, but he thought now was better timing after the fight they just had.

“You— you made this? From scratch?” She stood up in surprise, laundry forgotten for now.

“Yes.”

“For me?” She asked, not able to hide her emotions at the kind gesture anymore.

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckled, taking a step back so she could examine the chair.

She sat down and a big smile found its way on her lips when she looked up at Bucky. The chair was comfy and new and hers.

No one has ever gotten her anything, let alone made her something so beautiful. It was so special and a flood of emotions washed over her at the idea that someone had actually thought of her enough to make her a chair. That Bucky had made her a chair.

“Thank you,” she whispered, breaking eye contact so that she wouldn’t tear up.

Bucky only nodded in reply, internally celebrating the win with his heart doing backflips. She liked the chair.

She stood up and closed the small distance between her and the orc, getting on her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his cheek, “welcome home.”

She quickly put the clean laundry in its place in the closet and went to the kitchen to start dinner, leaving Bucky with the most idiotic smile on his face as he shifted back and forth on his feet like a teenager.

She was punishing him for yelling at her by not making dinner, but that chair and the effort behind it deserved a good meal.

~

She was cleaning up after dinner later that night when she heard Bucky moving stuff outside. She didn’t pay it much mind; it was his house after all.

“Come outside, little human,” his voice called for her and she tentatively stepped out of the kitchen.

Bucky was standing by the open cottage door, a hopeful smile on his face as he encouragingly nodded for her to come over to him.

She didn’t know what to think, but any chance not to stay cooped up inside the cottage was going to receive a yes from her.

It wasn’t like she was ungrateful. She was certainly thankful she had a roof over her head and warm walls that she could hide inside from the rain and the cold.

But again, her situation wasn’t the most ideal either. If it was up to her, she would have stayed at the orphanage with the rest of the girls because if her fate was drawn for her to be an isolated orc’s wife, she didn’t want to be married.

When she stepped outside, however, marriage and Bucky didn’t seem that bad for a second.

“I thought we could watch the stars now that the sky was clear,” Bucky explained, internally nervous that she might call him ridiculous and refuse to sit with him.

He had waited for a day without rain and laid out a thick blanket on the ground before their cottage, the way lit for her feet by a close by lantern he had put out.

She was enthralled, mouth open and breath stolen. Tears welled up in her eyes, a mixture of joy and disbelief engulfing her.

Bucky has even went as far as bringing out the shawl he had gotten her just in case she felt cold.

It was just like… a date.

Her heart raced and she smiled shyly at the orc, making him smile too as he watched her sit down on the blanket, holding her knees to her as she glanced up at the night sky nervously.

She has never been on a date before in her life, the town’s boys always picking other girls from the orphanage to fool around with, but never her. She was never really anyone’s type.

She slightly shook her head to shut down her insecure thoughts, knowing that none of those player town boys could have ever brought her on a date like this.

“Is the ground too cold?” Bucky asked as he draped her shawl over her shoulders.

She hugged the soft material around her body, smiling gratefully at the orc as she shook her head.

She was too shy to even speak at this point, her mind barely registering the amazingly romantic end to her day that Bucky had brought into existence.

Bucky then laid down on his back, wordlessly urging her to do the same.

She got on her back, eyes mesmerized by the sight of the stars. She has never seen so many before, her view from her room’s window at the orphanage was very limited.

It was different here in the middle of the woods because there were no town lights to take the view away from the sky and it was gorgeous.

“So beautiful,” she whispered with a smile, observing how the stars sparkled above them.

“Yes, the most beautiful,” Bucky whispered back, watching her as she watched the sky.

He wished she could one day look at him the same way she was looking at those stars; the same way he was looking at her.

In his eyes, there was a mix of determination and yearning, reflecting his unwavering commitment to win her heart despite her initial reluctance. Bucky’s gaze lingered on her, drinking in every detail as if he couldn’t believe she was really here, right next to him.

She turned her eyes to him, her shy smile widening, “thank you for this, Bucky.”

Gods, the way she said his name was something else.

“You’re welcome, sweet thing.” Bucky smiled back, turning his eyes back to the sky as to not make her uncomfortable under his stare.

As they silently continued stargazing, she felt her heart become lighter. She felt so serene, so content, and she had suddenly forgiven Bucky for raising his voice at her just hours ago, wanting nothing but for this peacefulness to last for as long as possible.

Was it imaginable for marriage to be this good? Could her life finally be turning around?

She couldn’t help but want to see Bucky in a different light in this very moment.

She knew that he was harsh sometimes, but she also knew that she wasn’t making it easy for him either.

Maybe she didn’t choose him and didn’t choose this marriage, but Bucky was trying with real effort and she wasn’t blind to it.

Bucky cared for her when she was sick. He provided for her. He brought her gifts, filled up her half of the closet for her with anything and everything she could need. And he, most importantly, apologized when he was in the wrong, which wasn’t something common for the human males of this kingdom. He also respected her boundaries and hadn’t tried touching her after their first night together.

Could this all be preparation for the purpose of bedding?

No, it couldn’t be. Bucky didn’t need to do this to get her in his bed. He had already had her there and he had willingly let her go. He could have his way with her anytime if he really wanted to.

She wanted to believe that this moment was real so bad. She wanted to believe that Bucky was trying to win her heart.

So she did.

And if Bucky was trying, she was going to start trying too.

She knew just the thing to do actually.

She was going to make Bucky strawberry jam tomorrow to show him how grateful she was.

She might have not much to offer, but she knew she made the most delicious fruit jams and marmalades. It was her specialty at the orphanage. All the other girls always managed to ruin the jams, adding too much or too little sugar, applying too much heat or not enough, eventually producing something inedible. But not her. No, that was one thing she knew with her whole heart that she was good at.

She might’ve not been the prettiest of the girls, but she deserved a good life and she was now determined to build one. With Bucky.

She wasn’t in love with him, she knew that, but she didn’t need love to have a good marriage. Respect and effort were going to be enough.

This marriage could be her chance at building a life worth living.

“Could you bring home some strawberries tomorrow?”

~

“Oh my gods, this is amazing!” Bucky exclaimed, sliding another spoonful of strawberry jam in his mouth.

“I’m happy you like it,” she replied proudly, a smile plastered on her timid features as she brought a basket of sliced bread to the table.

It felt so good to have someone other than the orphanage girls taste her hand’s making. Receiving Bucky’s praise felt so much different than all the compliments she’s ever received before.

It felt… way better.

“It’s really good, little human.” Bucky was too busy adding jam on the piece of bread in his hand, groaning as he slipped it into his mouth and chewed, “how much of this did you make?”

She laughed, “well, I wanted to start with a small pot because I didn’t know if you liked jam and I didn’t wanna throw out any of it, but we have enough if you finish this and want more!”

“None of this is getting thrown out, little human,” Bucky told her seriously, “I asked because I wanted to take some to Sarah. She has a sweet tooth and she would love this.”

A frown quickly replaced her smile at the mention of another female’s name. She suddenly felt like wanting to take the bowl of jam away from the orc. Hell, she felt like she wanted to get back the jam he had already ate and swallowed.

“Who’s Sarah?” She asked, trying to act nonchalant as she greased her bread with some jam.

“She’s Sam’s sister,” Bucky answered innocently, oblivious to the way she hummed with her jaw clenched.

“And who’s Sam?”

“Oh, right, you don’t know Sam. He’s my best friend; and my partner in the shop. Great guy,” Bucky told her, more interested in the jam than her reaction.

At least Sam was a male.

So just to be clear, Bucky wanted to take the jam she made to his best friend’s sister so she could have a taste and satisfy her sweet tooth? Yeah, she didn’t like that very much.

“Is she, like, married?” She wondered, trying hard not to show her anger.

“Who?” Bucky asked, chewing the bite in his mouth, the foreign question finally gaining his attention.

“Sweet tooth Sarah,” she answered with a somewhat bitter tone that Bucky has never heard before, her thumb swiping under his plump lips before she could stop herself as she harshly wiped away jam from the orc’s face.

The realization as to why her mood had suddenly turned sour made Bucky smile as he hurriedly swallowed his food, “little human,”

She looked up at him with a silent glare.

Despite her efforts to appear unaffected, there was a vulnerability in her eyes, a hint of insecurity betraying her true feelings

“Are you… jealous?”

Bucky’s amused smile made her even angrier as she watched his lips literally twitching.

Jealous? Pfft, of course not! Why would she be jealous!

“No!” She replied aloud defensively, “it was just a question.” She stood up, collecting the plates from the table without asking if Bucky was done eating.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Bucky laughed, holding onto the small bowl of jam.

“Try to save some for your Sarah,” she snapped, snatching her hand from the orc’s as she let him have the bowl.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at her surprising reaction, his widening smile still glued to his face.

She frustratingly sped to the kitchen, violently twisting the water tab open as she rolled her sleeves up and started washing the things in the sink.

She had went through all this trouble and used all of these bowls that she now had to wash just for him to want to take her jam to another female to eat.

Who did he think he was?

It was her fault for trying to do something nice in the first place.

He didn’t even answer her question, and that Sarah was probably unmarried. She was probably an orc too. Yeah, it made sense that Bucky would be attracted to someone similar to him. Those two ‘friends’ were probably part of his clan.

The clan he never introduced her to.

How naive was she to think this marriage could actually work?

Bucky was outside still smiling to himself like a fool as he finished the rest of her sweet jam.

She was jealous. She was jealous over him.

He didn’t want to upset her though, so he didn’t say anything, letting her calm down first.

He took the empty bowl to her, setting it in the sink as she avoided looking at him.

She heard him chuckle as he left the kitchen and it made her punch the sponge in her hand inside the bowl, pounding it angrily as she ‘washed’ it clean.

When she was done cleaning the kitchen and brushing her teeth, she stomped out to the bed, getting in and covering herself from head to toe as she gave Bucky her back.

Bucky walked to the lanterns and dimmed their lights before joining her in bed.

He laid on his back, innocently waiting for his good night’s kiss.

A minute passed. 2 minutes. 5 minutes. The kiss didn’t come.

“Hey,” Bucky whispered as not to startle her in the dark, “we had a deal. Where’s my kiss?” He put a hopeful hand on her shoulder, trying to twist her to face him.

“Have Sarah give you your kiss,” she replied with a deadpan tone, masking her fury as she pushed her pillow over her head, shrugging Bucky’s touch off her body.

Bucky stared at the back turned to him with an open mouth as he took his hand away and laid back, disappointment replacing his surprise and filling him up.

It was the first time since she had started feeling well again that she has refused to give him any of his kisses. Yet, respectful of her feelings, Bucky let her.

Maybe making her jealous wasn’t all that fun after all. But he didn’t even mean to make her jealous, he was just talking!

Bucky sighed, turning on his side as well as he fell asleep staring at the hidden back of her head.

~

The next morning as she put his breakfast on the table, she didn’t sit or eat with him, preferring to scrub the kitchen sink while Bucky ate even though she had just washed it the night before.

She didn’t give him his good morning kiss either; didn’t even speak to him.

She was still mad at him. This was serious for her, he realized.

Bucky might have found it fun last night, but today as she deliberately ignored his existence, he wanted nothing but to make her understand that what was in her head was nothing like the truth.

“Here, I packed jam for your sweet tooth Sarah,” she said harshly as she set a small jar of strawberry jam on the table before him.

“She’s not my—”

“Hope she likes it,” she cut him off, disappearing into the kitchen again.

Bucky sighed aloud, running a hand over his face as he stood up. Grabbing the jam, he took one look at the kitchen entrance before leaving the house for work with a clenched jaw.

She peeked outside when she heard the door shut to see the table empty. Bucky had taken the jar to Sarah.

Oh, that was it.

She could take being given to an orc against her will. She could take never having been chosen or given the chance to choose. She could take not being loved.

But she couldn’t and wouldn’t take being cheated on.

Was that why Bucky had decided to relieve her off her wifely duties in bed? Because he had another female? Was it because he had someone else to keep him warm and wet where he needed to be?

She couldn’t even think about the idea without feeling herself gag.

Why would he ruin her life by bringing her here when he already had that Sarah?!

How could she be so dumb, trying to meet him in the middle like that? Starting a peaceful life with this orc was never going to work!

She tried to pick the lock on the door like she usually would, but the new lock Bucky had put in wouldn’t budge.

She groaned in frustration before hauling herself up and out of the cottage window, running off to gods know where, hoping that luck would be her friend for once and maybe lead her somewhere out of these woods for good this time.

This marriage ends today.

~

Back at the shop, Bucky was as exasperated as they come as he used his chisel to shape the rough piece of wood in his hand.

After everything he was doing, how could she think that he had someone else? What was he doing wrong? What was missing?

Bucky had only ever wanted her. He thought he was the luckiest orc just because he got to fall asleep next to her every night.

How could he make her see that?

As his mind ran with thoughts and before Bucky could stop it, the chisel slipped and sharply cut the inside of his palm.

“Gods, fuck!” He shouted in pain as blood started flowing from the fresh wound.

Bucky tried to get the chisel from the floor so that no one would step on it, but his hand hurt more when he tried to squeeze his fist around the item. He grabbed it with his metal hand instead, rushing to the supply closet to find a clean towel to wrap around his cut.

He couldn’t continue working like that; couldn’t do anything with his hand.

Sam insisted on sending for his sister after seeing the amount of blood staining the cloth around Bucky’s hand.

Sarah tried to be efficient while messily stitching the wound as best as she could, wrapping it up carefully with gauze before advising Bucky to take a few days off work until his hand was healed. She was no doctor but she did her best for her friend.

Bucky thanked both siblings, giving Sarah the jam jar before leaving to go back home as his friends insisted.

He thought that his day couldn’t get any worse, but then he opened the cottage door to find the place empty and he could all but forget about his injury as he slammed his fist against the wall, crying out in anger. If his wound had started bleeding again, Bucky didn’t care.

~

“What the hell did you think you were doing out there again?!”

Bucky was enraged. He had found her wandering around the forest, as lost and as stubborn as ever.

“Getting as far away from you as possible.” She crossed her arms, her stare upset and unbending.

“And going where exactly!” He shouted, the idea of her spending the night inside a cold cave clawing at his back.

“Anywhere but here!” She yelled back, her face so hot she could feel sweat forming on her hairline in the middle of winter.

“It’s going to snow soon! Do you wanna get sick again?” Bucky held her by the arm, not too roughly as he didn’t really want to cause any real damage.

Neither of them noticed his blood staining her clothes.

She was too infuriated to notice Bucky’s hand wrapped in gauze. She saw nothing but red.

“I don’t care. I just don’t wanna be with you!” She retorted, snatching her arm out of his hold and pushing at his chest.

Though he didn’t move, her touch too weak to do anything to his colossal body, Bucky was hurt.

“Are you doing all of this just because of a little jealousy? Gods, human females are just—” Bucky shook his head in frustration.

“Jealousy? Hah! You think I’m jealous?” She faked a laugh, “this is not even a real marriage! What’s there for me to be jealous over?!” She continued raising her voice, the mention of her jealousy provoking her further.

Her words hurt Bucky more, the real gash now slashed across his heart.

Not even a real marriage.

Despite everything he was doing and trying, she still didn’t consider their marriage a real marriage.

“Well, do you wanna make it real, little human?” Bucky growled lowly, bringing her closer to his heaving chest by her arm, painting the sleeve of her dress in more of his blood.

Her heart thrummed in her ears at the proximity, her breath trembling as she imagined what the orc could do to her if he only wanted to.

“Let go of me,” she whispered as tears clouded her vision, hoping he wouldn’t be able to hear how scared she was in her voice.

Bucky complied, hating how nervous she got in the span of a second.

She ran to the kitchen at once, a hand on her chest as she felt her heart trying to escape her ribcage.

What an audacious orc! He was already with someone else and he dared threaten her with taking her to bed?! Damn, she was so stupid to think they could make something good out of this marriage. So stupid.

Bucky took a seat on the bed, face in his metal hand as he tried to gather his thoughts.

He had almost lost her for the millionth time today.

Was it going to be like this forever? What could he do to make it stop? How could he show her that this life with her was all he ever wanted? That he never wanted anybody else?

“You’re not gonna eat with me?” He asked when he saw her slam one bowl of rice on the table.

“I’m not hungry,” she replied curtly, her eyes on the ground and her jaw tense as she waited for him to get off the bed.

Bucky moved away understandably, taking a seat on the dining table instead as she climbed in bed, burying herself under the covers and hiding away from him.

Bucky knew she wasn’t asleep and he needed to talk to her; or at least see her face.

How was he supposed to have an appetite to eat if she wasn’t on the table with him, her beautiful eyes facing him and her shy smile greeting him every time he would moan over the taste of her delicious food?

“Hey.”

She felt the bed dip next to her as it took on Bucky’s body, his warm hand on her shoulder just like last night.

“Let your sweet tooth Sarah give you a kiss,” she spoke before he could say anything.

“This is not about the kiss. And She’s not my Sarah,” Bucky told her, turning her on her back so she could see his sincere face and hopefully believe him, “she’s not my anything. She’s just a good friend.”

She snorted, not buying it as she turned back to face the wall.

Bucky brought her back to him again, “she’s not married. She’s a widow, who is loyal to the memory of her husband, with two kids that are her whole world.” Bucky answered her earlier question, not wanting to hide anything from her.

“That’s none of my business.” She pretended to be uninterested, giving him the cold shoulder for the third time as she turned away, covering her head with the blanket.

Deep inside, she knew she was relieved to know that Sarah wasn’t interested though.

“It is your business,” Bucky sighed, taking the blanket away from her hands, making her look at him again, “it is your business when you think I’m involved with her.”

“You can do whatever you want.” She shrugged, acting indifferent, making Bucky more frustrated.

He released a loud exhale, “you’re what I want, little human.”

She remained silent, not expecting the orc’s patience or this admittance.

He had told her he wanted her before, but that was on their ‘wedding night’ when he had forced her to get completely naked for him.

This one was different. It sounded different and felt different.

“You don’t have to say all these things. We both know how this marriage came to be a thing.” She tried her best to hold her tears in.

“How did it come to be a thing?” Bucky wanted to see inside her head.

“How?” She sat up, her voice loud yet wobbly with emotions, “they gave you an orphaned girl you didn’t get to see or pick beforehand to make up for making you go to war for them, that’s how!” She felt bad for him, but even more for herself.

So she had read the contracts.

“Who told you I didn’t get to see or pick you?” Bucky swallowed.

“What do you mean?!”

“I’ve seen you before, little human. More than once. And I asked for you to be my wife instead of the noble man’s daughter I was originally offered.” Bucky came clean about the truth behind their arranged marriage.

“You what?!” She became even angrier.

He did this? She was here now because of him?!

“I willingly picked you, little human.”

“Why! Why me! Did you ever stop to think that I might not want this? Or you?!” She practically screamed in anger.

Who was he to decide her future for her? Why didn’t he just take the nobleman’s daughter!

“I did. But you were the only human female who has ever caught my attention. I couldn’t take my eyes off you every time I won a glimpse.” Bucky confessed, his light grey skin gaining a tint at the cheeks as he bared his heart to her, “I knew I couldn’t continue if I didn’t have you, little human.”

Won a glimpse

Couldn’t continue if I didn’t have you

No one has ever used such words to describe an act so normal as looking at her. No one had ever wanted or needed her. Why was her heartbeat speeding up? What was that orc doing to her?

“The minute you entered my cottage, you became my one and only. I don’t want anyone but you.” He promised, squeezing her smaller hand in his, “I will live and die loyal to you, little human.”

She knew he was telling the truth because she had heard the stories. Loyalty was very important to orcs and their mates were for life.

She just stared at Bucky, words stolen from her throat by the way he was looking at her.

No one has ever looked at her like that. Like she was the most beautiful thing they could see. Like she was the only girl in the world. Like she was the only one with any sort of control over this orc’s mind and heart.

“When I suggested gifting Sarah some jam, I was only thinking of doing something nice for a friend.”

She listened with a frown, a little angry again at the mention of the other female’s name.

“If it wasn’t for Sam and Sarah and the boys, I wouldn’t have survived a lot of things. They are my only friends and the only ones I can share nice things with.”

“The only ones?” She pouted, turning her face to the dining table in discontent.

“That’s not what I meant! I just— I’m not used to saying such things, but—” Bucky took a deep breath, squeezing her smaller hand closer, “I was so proud of you being my wife and knowing how to make such delicious things that I wanted the important ones in my life to share it with me…”

Bucky didn’t have to know, but those words were everything to her because when she thought about it, no one has ever been proud to know or have her. No one has ever been proud of her for anything.

But Bucky was, and he wanted to show her off.

When she looked back at the orc, he was staring at the blanket covering her thighs, doubtful to meet her gaze.

Bucky looked… nervous, if you will.

She smiled, eyes tearing up despite herself as she waited for him to look back at her.

When he did, Bucky was instantly smiling back at the sight of her grin. That smile was the whole world for him; it sent him up on cloud nine.

“Have dinner with me?” He asked, his metal thumb wiping away a stray tear from the corner of her eye.

She nodded, her smile bigger as she got up and walked to the kitchen to make herself a plate, her heart going a hundred miles per minute as she couldn’t make her smile leave her face.

She wanted to be angrier over the fact that he got to choose and she didn’t, but then again, if she was being honest with herself, she probably could have never dreamt up a husband as good as Bucky was to her if she tried.

She believed that everything happened for a reason and she was too dreamy not to imagine that this whole marriage had to happen exactly the way it did just for her to meet this orc, and maybe, against all odds, have her happy ending with him.

Taking the lid off of the rice pot, she finally saw it: her palm covered in fresh blood.

“Oh gods!” She quickly washed her hand under the water, seeing and feeling no injuries, the realization that it must be Bucky’s blood sent a pang to her chest.

“Bucky?” Tears blurred her vision as she found the orc in the bathroom, trying and failing to remove the wrapping around his right palm with his left one.

She had been forced into this marriage, a union she never agreed to, but as she watched him struggle to tend to his wound, something inside her softened.

How did she not notice that he had come home with a covered up hand?

“Are you okay?!” Bucky asked, troubled to see her crying even when he was the one bleeding above his bathroom sink.

Her heart clenched at the sight; at the care in his cerulean eyes, “what happened to you?”

She sped up to get the first-aid box from him, getting out everything she was going to need as she looked at his bloody palm.

“It’s nothing, sweet thing,” Bucky told her softly, hating the look of anxiety on her precious face even if it was for him; even if it was making him feel all sorts of things, “just a scratch, really. Nothing I can’t handle”.

She tenderly finished unwrapping his hand, gasping as she saw the bleeding gash across it, “this doesn’t look like nothing!” She cried, more tears streaming down her face, “how did you get this?”

“I just hurt myself while working…” Bucky’s metal hand hesitantly pat her shoulder.

“Bucky.” She looked up at him, not believing that that was the only reason because the wound seemed to be loosely stitched and it was obvious that something had happened to make the wound bleed after it had been stitched.

“And I might have punched the wall when I came home and didn’t find you,” Bucky mumbled lowly, not wanting to make her feel bad.

It was just a silly scrape compared to what he had to endure back when he was still fighting wars, really.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed into the back of her hand, feeling terrible for all the things she has been putting him through ever since she came here.

“Hey, I’m okay.” Bucky’s metal hand cupped her cheek, his smooth thumb sliding across to wipe her tears.

“No, you’re not.” She shook her head in deep regret, not believing that he was still the one reassuring her in such a state.

“I am, I swear on our marriage.” Bucky wiped under her eyes patiently, caring about nothing but her heart carrying no burdens.

She was speechless because did Bucky just use their marriage to swear? Was it really that important to him that he would swear on it?

She didn’t care that this was an arranged marriage in possibly the most twisted of ways, a woman knew love when she encountered it and that orc’s eyes were showing nothing but pure love.

In the middle of her heart’s longing for a person to care about her, she couldn’t bring herself to step on Bucky’s. Trying to calm her down when he was the one injured and dripping blood? Yeah, that was an orc worth trying, caring and staying for.

“I’m— I’m gonna need to redo the stitches, is that okay?” She sniffled, relaxing herself as she wordlessly promised those concerned blue eyes to give them and this marriage her all.

“Yes.” Bucky smiled when he saw her wipe her tears away and the smile she gave him back made his heart soar.

“It might hurt a little, but just for a short bit, okay?”

Bucky nodded, not believing how delicately she was handling his huge hand with her smaller ones.

He was glad she never had to witness him back then or the actually deadly injuries he had had inflicted on him during wars. He wouldn’t have been able to take that look of fear in her eyes after every fight.

“Who did those sloppy stitches anyway?” She wondered in dissatisfaction with the work and Bucky swallowed hard.

She looked at him knowingly when he remained silent, “it was sweet tooth Sarah, wasn’t it?” She asked with half a smile as she started cautiously taking out the old stitches with the tweezers.

“Yes.” Bucky nodded sheepishly, “but Sam only called for her help because they don’t offer me help in the kingdom’s infirmaries.”

“What?!” Her head snapped up angrily.

They don’t offer him service at the infirmaries?! After all that he had done for this kingdom?

“I’m no longer a soldier of their own so…” Bucky shrugged with a sad smile.

Her expression went from angry to devastated to angry again in less than a second, “this is gonna sting a little.” She warned as she disposed of the old sutures in the bin.

“Don’t be upset, little human.”

She looked up, not knowing what to say or how to apologize to the orc about the terrible treatment of this kingdom’s people, but his smile told her that everything was going to be all right. She couldn’t help but smile back.

Her eyes swayed between his palm and his face as she started disinfecting the wound with the piece of sterilized cotton in her hand.

Bucky hissed and winced, making her stop at once.

“I’m sorry! I’m so so—”

“Ha, fooled ya! It’s not that bad,” Bucky laughed, amused at her reaction, instantly earning himself a slap on his shoulder with the back of her hand.

“Hey, you can’t do that to the injured!” Bucky whined playfully.

“Can’t I?” She teased, biting her smile back.

He smiled wider because she could.

Oh, she could do anything to him and he would take it with a smile and thank her for it.

For a heartbeat, the world around Bucky seemed to blur as he focused solely on her, engraving every detail of her smile into his memory. It was a sight he never wanted to forget, a ray of light in the darkness that had clouded his years for so long.

Everything was going to be okay, Bucky thought as he brought her to his chest with his metal arm, praying to the gods she wouldn’t pull away.

“I’m— I’m almost done,” she muttered coyly, trying to make him let her go so she could finish tending to his injury.

But then she felt it: her husband’s tusks were pressing gently on her scalp as Bucky kissed her hair.

Her breath caught in her throat, a mixture of surprise and tenderness washing over her as she felt herself wanting to stay longer inside his embrace.

“Thank you, little human,” he whispered lovingly.

As she tilted her head slightly to meet Bucky’s captivating eyes, she found herself lost in the depths of their oceans, catching a vulnerability she hadn't noticed before.

She looked deeper and she realized that beneath his rugged exterior lied a heart capable of great tenderness, a heart that might just beat for her and her alone.

She beamed again as she softly replied, “you’re welcome, Bucky.”

Yeah, they were going to be okay.

Part IV

~

Tag List:

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[jasminumdew]

Rafayel (merman x siren reader)

Notes: This was written based on Rafayel’s rut which was presented in the Ebb and Flow card

Summary: You went out hunting to feed your sick merman lover, but he doesn’t seem to be hungry, at least not in that way.

Event host: this fic was written for Monster Mash Event, hosted by lovely @nanamiscocksleeve

Warnings: MDNI, gore, manslaughter, merman goes into rut, public sex

W/c: 1.2k

“Captain, we’re very close to that area now”

“Prepare the spears, net, every crew member gets to the harpoon gun now. We only get one chance, either we catch it or it’s the last day for all of us”

With the captain’s order, everyone quickly rushes to the ship's sides. All eyes were focused on the sudden movement of the waves, so no one paid attention to the piercing eyes locking on their backs. It’s not until the first note sang out that they realized their mistake. 

“Everyone, plug your ears. NOW!!” The captain's screams couldn’t reach their ears anymore, since it was filled with the most heavenly voice they’d ever heard. Can this be considered a peaceful death - when your heart was fluttering, mind clouded and blurry by a symphony? You wouldn’t say that, because only 10 seconds after hearing your song, the hallucination starts. One by one, the crew members collapsed onto the floor, some jumped and fed themselves to the hungry monster under the deep sea. Their hands reach to the nearest weapons, frantic red eyes looking like it’s gonna be popped out by how irritated the blood vessels got, having to witness their own death caused by their own hands. 

You don’t feel any grief for being that cruel to them. Humans share many similar features with sirens, even more than they have with mermaids. But they are all so weak, no really, they don’t have a pair of wings behind their backs or feathers on their thighs to protect them from the harsh weather like your kind do, nor do they have tails to move fast underwater like mermaids. That’s why they are only lower species who are destined to be feasted on. You keep rambling while tearing their breast out with your sharp claws, their constant begging falls on deaf ears. You’re not familiar with skinning humans so some organs were mixed with meat and fat, normally there’s another one that would deal with this task and you just gonna let them feed you the best bits. You couldn’t help grinning from ear to ear, thinking how proud of you he’s gonna be when you bring him this fresh heart that’s still beating slowly on your bloody palm. 

As you fly back home, you find his silhouette resting on the entrance, where the waves can reach his merman’s tail. 

“Babyyy I’m back. Look what I got!”

He huffs, narrowing his eyes.

“Couldn’t you tell me already? Gosh, the smell is awful. Human meat?”

You’re taken aback by his cold and sarcastic demeanor but quickly brush it off, considering he’s not in his best condition. 

“It’s a human heart. I hope it can cheer you up or at least make you less grumpy”

You reach out to pat his hair, it always does a great job to calm him down. Before you even touched his blue strand, your wrist was grabbed firmly by his hand. 

“You went hunting alone? Do you know how dangerous it is? They have weapons that can kill us in a heartbeat. Why didn’t you tell me first?” 

The heat spreading from his palm feels like it can burn your delicate skin, you try to struggle out of his hold but to no avail. 

“But you needed to rest. I’m fully capable of killing them alone, there weren’t even a scratch”

“You’re covered in blood. Next time don’t do unnecessary things like this. You smell like dead people.” He continues his nagging, there’s no point in getting hurt over his words, you know he would never say things like this in the right headspace. You put the bloody heart aside and clean all the nasty blood on your feathers, it seems to be clear that he doesn’t want any snack right now. 

As you finish cleaning up, you take a seat on his big tail, careful not to scratch him accidentally with your sharp claws. His body stiffens when you sit on his lap, grunting in his throat as your hand touches his forehead to check his body heat.

“Raf? This body temperature is not normal at all! What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine” his hands gripping on your waist to stop you from squirming on his lap, “It happens once a year. I just sleep it off” 

Once a year? Suddenly everything clicks in your mind.

“You’re in a rut, aren’t you?” Every signal is checked: abnormal body heat, labored breathing, dilated pupils, unexplainable mood swings…He doesn’t reply but his eyes shift to his lower abdomen. Your gaze follows him to find his thin fabric was drenched in precum. Blood rushes to your cheek and your heart beats with excitement when you pull it down, revealing his enormous erection. Merman’s manhood in general is way bigger than that of sirens, but it’s especially huge today, the heavy red tip rests on his belly, waiting to pump his seed all over your fertile flower. 

Your heavy wings spread out, covering your bodies from the outside world to get some privacy. 

“Don’t” 

“What?” your eyes looking up all confused.

“Don’t spread your wings. I want everyone to see that you’re mine to claim.”

You do just as you were told to, not without looking around to check for anyone around first. You don’t dare to confess, but the thought of someone watching you being such a slut for your lover caused waves of arousal inside you. Just from the smirk on his lips, you can tell he knows it already. 

He nearly choked on his breath when you ran your hand down his erected shaft, his tail splashes the waves impatiently. You kiss your way down his abdomen, licking and biting on his skin. Your mouth can only take half of his length, the rest have your hands do the work. Within minutes of you sucking his sensitive tip, he pushes your head away. His cock twitches angrily, begging for friction. 

“I need to feel you, please. I’ll make up for you later, but I really have to cum inside you”

With a nod from you, he aligns his tip clumsily and thrusts all the way in, reaching your womb. It doesn’t go any softer after he finishes, but the semen acts as an aphrodisiac to you. Your inside burns with the slow thrusts and lazy strokes on your bundle of nerves, so much that you sob into his chest, begging him to pick up the pace. At night, when your womb has no space for his cum anymore, that’s when he comes back to normal and peppers you with kisses. You’re sure that your eggs are all fertilized now, and he’ll need to find a bigger cave for your crowded family tomorrow. 

There’s so many things to prepare, but now, you just sleep in each other’s embrace without any care and leave it for tomorrow. Such an odd thing that two species who have nothing in common fell in love with each other. It’s truly beautiful, how you two can find out a whole new world that you’ve never known of, he’s the deep dangerous sea that you craved for one time to dive in, and you’re the cloud, the moon, the sun he couldn’t reach. Everything just feels right being with the right person, no matter the differences.

[meanbossart]

Hellow

I was catching up with the latest chapters of ANE before reading The Spice™️ and I was reminded of how well you build and describe the environment surrounding your characters. Which prompts me to ask:

1 Do you have any drawings/sketches of landscapes and places from ANE that you can/would like to share?

2 Any advice for someone (me) that isn’t really good at putting their characters in places? I always end up with either a ‘too crowded’ or a ‘too barren’ of a setting.

Thank you for reading and hopefully answering my questions byee:3

Hello!!

Thank you! I have no idea what I'm doing so I'm glad I'm able to paint a good enough picture 😅

I do have two VERY simple sketches of the house of blood/the compound that I made to compare against my boyfriend's mental picture of it, basically to see how well I had been able to describe it since it's by far the most challenging area to put down into text.

(everything is very boxy and not exactly the ideal proportion, but again, this was a very simple sketch I made to "aid" the descriptions rather than for it to stand on its own at all) Here you see the "apple core" of the hive with the drow settlement and all the precarious platforms that interconnect and spring out of it. The cabins you see are sometimes two stories high so the area us actually quite big! Which is how Do'zynge is able to walk across the support-beams on the underside of said platforms even though he's rather large for a drider. The catwalk pictured can be moved up and down to connect people to different floors a little faster.

Here's a similar sketch based off of an specific scene, this one focuses more on the walkways built into the walls. I'm not sure why I huddled the doors together so much, they should definitely be more spaced out.

Also, while I used the same shorthand for everything, the spawn living spaces are all wood and stone - from the doors to the floor and railings. While the drow settlement (where Dalyria is too) is mostly metal and well structured tents.

For your second question, that's rough because I am also never quite satisfied with my descriptions 😂but I think that's a part of it; you need to make peace with the fact that you will NOT be able to paint a perfect picture, and think of the whole process as less of a job that you must do alone, but rather a collaboration between you and the reader's own creativity! You have to be willing to put some of the onus on them to imagine what it is you're trying to transcribe, instead feeling under the obligation of giving them exact descriptions for every little thing.

I try to use words that evoke a specific style and mood - say that the room is ornamental, warm, say that it's all golden and red and six sentences from now mention that the couch your character sat in is velvety. Reveal things as they come into relevance instead of interrupting the pace for two entire paragraphs to describe the room your characters just walked into - when appropriate, consider what they would even pay attention to at all and maybe limit yourself to it. Set a rough base for your environment at the start of a scene and then sprinkle descriptors in throughout the prose, and always consider if you truly NEED to get into the specifics of something or if the reader can be left to their own imaginative devices.

Also, unless necessary or some sort of plot device, I find that trying to establish where things are in a room (doors, furniture, stairs) in a map-like manner is a waste of time. Just say "behind him", "to her left", "right ahead", I don't think being overly specific benefits anybody - your reader picturing this set of stairs facing the west rather than the east is unlikely to be consequential to your narrative.

That being said, don't shy away from pointing "unnecessary" things out when they help set a mood, or help in characterization. Way early in ANE there's a scene where DU drow walks into the room where him, Astarion, and Shadowheart have been staying and are now about to leave, he takes note of the fact that one of them made the bed - he doesn't say who, besides that it wasn't himself, but I put that there to hopefully establish from early on that one character's priorities had started to change. In the compound, Dalyria is described as collecting useless things she found in the underground and displaying them around the office - this, on top of her new look, outfit, and company should paint a picture. Irennor's living situation should say all there is to know about him, and the way DU drow dismantles his belongings after only what is immediately valuable instead of considering the historical significance of anything says something about him, too. That's my favorite way of setting scenes, by finding out how to say something about the people in it.

[scintie]

a spark of black

Pairing: Gambit/Remy LeBeau x female reader. Summary: Ever since you appeared at the resistance hideout along with Wade and Logan, tension between you and a certain Cajun card slinger has been steadily growing. One fateful night you finally get the chance to relieve some of it. Tags: smut (male receiving), blowjob, mild dominant undertones. Notes: be gentle, this is the first piece of writing that I've uploaded in yeeeeears. :')

You watched Remy’s mouth move, his lips forming words that you just couldn’t decipher. He was obviously speaking to you, it was just the two of you sat in the main room of the hideout.

Earlier in the evening everyone had been gathered, sharing stories and drinks. The others had all turned in for the night an hour or so ago, leaving you and the Cajun to continue on without them. Wade had made his exit by saying something predictably crude about not being too loud while fucking each others brains out. Remy had waved him off while you did nothing but blush.

The past hour had been torture. Listening to Remy's smooth, deep voice talk about their recent escapades in the Void had driven you crazy with desire. You'd developed a stupid crush on him as soon as you'd arrived. Who wouldn't though right? With his tall, broad stature and handsome face, he'd be hard for anyone to resist. But as the days had passed things went from bad to worse and your stupid crush deepened into a genuine desire.

That's why the blood was thumping so loud in your ears that you couldn’t understand him.

“Wh-what? Sorry, I er, I didn’t quite catch that.” You stammered, feeling your cheeks grow hotter by the second. You dreaded to think how flustered you looked to him right now. Like a deer in the headlights of a truck. A big, sexy truck wearing a brown leather coat.

“Oh, tu es mignon,” Remy chuckled under his breath. He rose from his chair and stepped a little closer, as if the distance between the two of you was the issue. “Remy see da way you been lookin’ at him cher, when ya' think he no be noticin’, ah?”

You were speechless. You didn't know how to react to his bluntness. How were you supposed to react to that?

Remy smirked and closed the gap between you completely and leaned over you, placing his hands on the back of your chair, one either side of your head. He was so close, you could barely breathe.

"You wan' me? All a pretty lil' thing like you would hav' to do is ask, ma douce." He kept his voice low, not wanting to alert the others.

Your mind raced, thoughts bouncing around for what felt like an eternity before at last, you nodded your head. You didn't even realise you were doing it but you weren't about to argue against it either.

"Atta girl, une si bonne fille." Remy praised, standing up straight. His hands went to the fastenings of his pants, all the while maintaining eye contact with you. "Ya trust Remy, don'cha cher?" He asked, slowly pushing his pants and underwear down off of his hips.

Your gaze left his then, moving down his otherwise fully clothed body until you were greeted with the sight of his half hard cock slipping from it's confines. Your eyes went wide. He was certainly much bigger than anyone you'd ever been with before.

You realised Remy was still watching you, slowly stroking himself now, waiting for an answer. You didn't know where to look, it was hard to tear your eyes away from the sight of his cock swelling to it's full, impressive size.

Finally, you found your words, "Y-yeah, I trust you."

"Perfect." Remy smirked and took up his position right in front of you, his hands on the back of the chair again. You gulped, head swimming with anticipation. "Then open up dat pretty mouth for me."

You drew in a long breath before slowly parting your lips, wider and wider until he nodded his approval. Remy seemed to realise that he had forgotten something, taking your hands from your lap and guiding them to his bare thighs. "Da's for yer own peace of mind, don' wan' you thinkin' you gon' fall."

You braced your hands on his muscular legs and soon realised why as he pulled on the back of your chair, slowly tilting you forward. The movement causing your mouth to lower onto his cock. It was definitely a different experience to anything you were used to, he had almost complete control over your movement.

Remy moaned quietly, taking in the tantalisingly debauched sight of your luscious lips wrapped around him. He took in every detail and sensation, observing you as if you were creating a beautiful piece of artwork right in front of him.

You looked up at him with hooded eyes, slowly working your tongue around him with what little space you had left to use.

Remy moaned again, deeper this time before just as slowly tipping the chair back down, his cock sliding almost all of the way out of your mouth.

"Y'okay, cher?" He asked, his chest rising and falling quickly. You could tell he was holding himself back a little, but he needed to make sure you were still on board with this.

You nodded slowly, running your hands slowly up and down his thighs, squeezing the muscles lying taught beneath his smooth skin.

Remy nodded back and steadied his stance. He moved the chair forward and backward again in quicker succession this time, watching your face for any sign of discomfort. He relaxed when all he saw was lust and wanton desire on your features.

You kept your hands braced on his legs, giving yourself a firm and steady anchor point to rely on. You moaned around his dick as he moved you again, a little deeper this time but still manageable.

He gradually built up a good rhythm. Not fast enough to be overwhelming for you but definitely enough to have him moaning freely, loving the soft warmth of your mouth as he moved you back and forth.

"Dat hot lil' mouth feelin' so good on me, cher." He whispered huskily, just loud enough for you to hear. You still had to be quiet, you couldn't imagine how mortifying it would be if one of the others walked in on you two right now.

Remy's words of encouragement shot a tingle through your body that ended up right between your legs. You pressed your thighs together hard and whimpered, tears prickling your eyes as your arousal started to get the better of you.

Remy noticed the change in your demeanour and slowly lowered the chair completely back down to the floor, his cock slipping free from your mouth for the first time since he'd started. A mixture of saliva and precum followed after him, coating your lips and chin.

You loved how completely blissed out you were feeling, high on the endorphins and serotonin surging through your body. Without really thinking about it you slid from the chair and onto your knees between Remy's feet. You were going on instinct, being driven by the almighty lust that you felt for this man.

"Y'kay down dere, angel?" Remy enquired, cocking an eyebrow and sliding a reassuring hand onto your shoulder as he watched you with intrigue.

You nodded slowly, grazing your teeth over your bottom lip. "Uhuh, just wanna make you come that's all..." Your words came out so soft and breathy that it was his turn to barely hear you, but he soon got the idea when you reached up and started to stroke him back to full hardness.

He moaned just a little louder than he'd liked to, caught a little off guard by the sudden sensation of your soft hands. "Well cher, Remy ain't gon' be arguin' widdat." He chuckled when he'd regained composure, jutting his hips forward for you. As soon as he was rigid again you wasted no time in taking his cock back into your mouth. You set a relatively fast pace, bobbing your head quickly, taking as much as would while working him with your tongue. Your hands went to his hips, pulling him forward and back gently in time with your bobbing. "Merde..." He hissed, looking down at you as he snaked his hand into the hair at the back of your head. "Jus' like dat, belle. Remy be comin' in no time if you be doin' dat..."

Spurred on by his words you forced yourself to take him just a little deeper, feeling him throb against your tongue in response, followed by the salty taste of precum.

You moaned softly as Remy's fingers tightened in your hair, gripping the strands at the very root. His hips stuttered a little, a tell tale sign that he getting close.

One of your hands left his hip and made it's way between his legs to massage his balls, lifting them with your palm and rolling them in their sack slowly.

The sound that came out of the Cajun's mouth was like music to your ears. Along guttural moan peppered with some indistinguishable French curse words. Apparently he didn't seem to care if anyone heard anymore.

A couple more minutes went by of you greedily sucking him and playing with his balls before Remy suddenly pulled back, his cock popping from your mouth wetly.

He wrapped his hand around his dick as he quickly guided you to sit back in the discarded chair from earlier. You complied, scrabbling up onto the wooden seat.

Remy stood over you, straddling your legs a she began jerking himself off quickly. "M' gonna come all over dat pretty face, cher... ya' ready?"

You nodded, heat rushing to your cheeks in anticipation. His hand made it's way to the back of your head again, holding you in place as he chased his orgasm.

The visual of such a devastatingly gorgeous man masturbating over you was intoxicating, it made your head spin just watching him. An odd swell of pride hit you as you noticed your saliva still coating his cock as he stroked himself, sliding his length between the makeshift sheath of his palm and thick fingers.

"Beg me, cher. Beg Remy for his cum." He panted.

You could tell he was right there, right on the precipice, he just needed to hear you.

"Please Remy, fuck... please cum all over me..." You whined, your breathing almost as shallow as his by now.

That did the trick. Almost as soon as the last words left passed your lips Remy let out a long, loud moan as his cock started to twitch. He pulled you closer just as thick, white ropes of cum started to shoot from his slit.

You opened your mouth just in time as you felt some of the hot, salty fluid paint your tongue. The rest splashed across your face in haphazard directions, marking you as his. Remy's fist slowed and his breathing steadied as the pleasure subsided. It was at that moment that you locked eyes with him. It was then that he fully saw the mess he'd made of you. The sight of you covered in his seed seemed to stun him for a small moment before his trademark cockiness returned.

"Lookin' good dere, beautiful. Dat look really suit you, ah?" He quipped, winking as he turned to find a washcloth.

You took it from him with a shy smile, your hormone fuelled confidence ebbing away slightly in the aftermath. But you smiled to yourself as you wiped your face clean because you had a feeling that he was right. It did suit you.

[anonmousegosqueak]

141 on a plane. I think they all act so different when it's commercial flight versus mission flights. On missions, they're calm and focused, getting into the zone. But commercial flights? Johnny fidgets, can't sit still for more than two hours. John is too paranoid to do anything except sit in the silence, no sleeping, no headphones, won't even get food or drinks. Simon is passed out sleeping, but he's so fucking uncomfortable, buys the either seat on each side of him so he can put the arm rests up. Kyle is blasting music in his headphones, sharing with Johnny (who forgot his) and making sure he bought water and snacks before take off for John.

-🦴 (from a plane)

:(

I used to fly a lot (too and from Texas twice a year to visit the grandparents) but then I didn't. And as y'all know I was on a plane just a few weeks ago. And y'know what? I'm done. I'm okay, thank you. No more flying for me!

Alright, yapping time!

Nikolai: I know you didn't have him in your original ask but... Bro is fidgety. He hates it. He's supposed to be the pilot, not the passenger! He's either silently cussing under his breath the entire time or he's flustering poor Price (it's a good form of distraction). Yeah he's making jokes like "hey, I'm not flying now so I guess my hands are free ;)" but internally he's screaming.

Price: as stated above, he's *not* having a good time. Yeah he knows how to control himself but he's absolutely freaking out under the surface. He's literally in a death tube being flown by someone he never met, and he's supposed to be calm?! No thanks, Nik is his only pilot.

Ghost: okay I think everyone is miserable? He gets really sleepy on plains (like my sibling) but he can never get comfortable (unlike my sibling- HOW DO YOU SLEEP SO GOOD??) Sometimes he just gives up and ends up disassociating while staring into the seatbelt sign for an hour. It always freaks everyone out and he's been told to stop many a time. Also if you think any of these men are going to fit into that tiny airplane seat?? Anyways, he lands with a crick in his neck and a taste for blood.

Soap: baby. Hunny. If you think this man is sitting still in a tiny seat for an hour+? It's TORTURE for him. He's got that ADHD that means if it's not a life or death situation, boy is fidgeting. He also always steals the safety manual they put in the seat pocket in front of you, don't ask how or why. BUT- if he has a big strong Lt. next to him...? He could find a way to pass the time~ (aka he passes out on his shoulder and snores in his ear)

Gaz: the only one having a decent time. It's not like he likes flying, I don't think anyone does, but he probably hates it the least. He'll absolutely flirt with the stewardess for an extra bag of pretzels, supply everyone with snacks and water, and even provide distraction for those who need it. 10/10, sitting next to this guy is great. His momma said he was a good flyer as a kid, he ain't gonna make her disappointed!

Roach: I think he's a 50/50. On the one hand, he likes airplanes. He thinks they are neat. He likes the cramped space, the cool view, heck he likes comparing things with what he learned from Nik! The one problem though? His ears pop BAD. I'm talking crying from pain, unable to hear and head feeling like it's gonna explode. It's the one thing he can't stand, and of course it's extra hard for him because life (me lmao) wants him to suffer apparently.

Red: Red is not allowed on plains. You cause *one* bathroom fire and all of a sudden your "banned from flying" and "a hazard". They say it's bullshit, everyone else says it's 100% fair and probably for the safety of anyone and everyone on board.

[matts-girlfriend]

It’s You I Welcome Death With- Chris Sturniolo

TattooArtist!Chris and MakeupArtist!Reader

chapter 9

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

warning this series will contain, substance abuse, angst, arguing,tension,swearing, mentions of absent family, blood, abuse (not from chris). smut, oral, this is a warning for all chapters

Boston air was different.

It was louder, colder, smelled like cigarette smoke and... gas? The streets buzzed with people who looked like they didn’t have time to breathe, and somehow it felt kind of perfect. You hadn’t said much the whole drive. Chris didn’t either. But when Nick announced—half-laughing, half-panicking—that the hotel had only two rooms booked instead of the three originally planned, something shifted.

“Not it,” Matt said immediately, arms crossed.

Chris gave him a side-eye. “Don’t act like you weren’t gonna snore all fucking night anyway.”

Matt scoffed. “I’m not rooming with you. Not after what you said about Madi.”

You looked at Nick, then Chris, then Matt. “It’s not a big deal, I can share with either of you—”

“No,” Matt cut in, awkward now. “I mean—no offense, but like… my girl’s not about me sleeping in a room with other girls.”

You nodded slowly. “Right.”

Nick looked between everyone. “Guess it’s you and Chris, Y/N.”

You gave a short, nonchalant shrug. “Fine with me.”

But when you got to the room and opened the door, it wasn’t fine.

One bed.

Just one.

You blinked, froze, stared. Chris walked in behind you like it was nothing, tossed his bag onto the floor, then looked at your face.

“What?” he asked, trying to hide his smirk.

You turned around slowly. “There’s one bed.”

“Damn. Hope you’re not a kicker.”

You frowned. “I’ll take the couch.”

“There is no couch,” he pointed out, pulling a blunt from his pocket and lighting it like it was the most casual thing in the world. “And sweetheart, I’ve literally had my tongue inside you. You think sharing a bed is gonna break you?”

Your mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “You’re disgusting.”

He blew smoke in your direction. “You love it.”

You rolled your eyes, dropped your bag by the wall, and ignored the fact your chest felt tight. “Whatever. I’ll sleep on the edge.”

Chris smirked. “I won’t bite. Unless you ask nicely.”

⸻

The shoot was chaos.

Lights flashing, people scrambling, stylists panicking. You were in your zone, though. Liner perfect, lipstick sharp, foundation blended like second skin. You were fixing up one of the models—tall, sculpted jawline, piercing eyes—who had definitely been flirting for the last ten minutes.

“So, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” he asked with a smile.

You snorted. “That’s your opener?”

“I’ve got better ones,” he grinned, and you smirked, amused by the confidence.

You leaned in to adjust his jawline contour. “Mmm, maybe save it for a real date.”

“Is that your way of saying yes?”

Before you could answer, a voice cut in.

“Hey. Fuck off.”

You looked up to find Chris, standing behind the model with that familiar annoyed tilt to his head.

“She’s here to work.”

The model raised his brows. “Woah. I was just talking—”

Chris stepped forward. “And I’m just saying. Fuck off.”

You stared at him. Blinked once. Twice. Then turned slowly back to your kit.

“I wasn’t uncomfortable,” you said, not looking at him.

Chris didn’t respond. Just scoffed and walked off, muttering something under his breath that you didn’t bother to catch.

⸻

Later, after everything was wrapped and people were winding down, you were packing up your brushes when you saw him.

Chris.

Outside by the loading dock, laughing with one of the models. Her. Tall, flirty smile, perfect bone structure.

You weren’t mad. You weren’t even surprised.

But the way he was looking at her? Yeah. It kind of stung.

You didn’t say anything. You just grabbed your stuff and started heading toward the hotel room, jaw tight. You felt footsteps behind you a block before he said anything.

The second the hotel door clicked shut behind you, you turned.

He was right there.

“What the hell was that?” he asked, voice low but sharp.

You raised a brow. “What was what?”

“With that guy. You were letting him feel you up with his eyes.”

You crossed your arms. “Oh, you mean the same way you were eye-fucking "Barbie" outside?”

Chris stepped forward. “That’s different.”

You scoffed. “Right. Because you’re allowed to flirt but I’m not.”

He didn’t answer.

You shook your head, walking past him, tossing your stuff onto the desk. “Forget it.”

He moved fast.

Hand on your wrist, eyes burning into yours.

“Why’d it bother me so much?” he muttered. “Why’d it feel like I was about to punch that guy?”

You stared at him.

“I don’t know,” you whispered.

Neither of you moved.

Neither of you spoke.

And then—

His hand was on your cheek.

And he kissed you.

Hard.

Like he was trying to drown in it.

Your breath caught, but you kissed back. Like it was the only thing tethering you to the ground.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t slow. It was messy. Hungry. Fingernails digging into fabric. Breath caught in your throat. Chris walked you backward until your knees hit the edge of the bed, and then you were falling into it, tangled in each other, still kissing like the world was on fire.

He didn’t break it.

Not until minutes later when something flickered in his eyes.

And suddenly he was pulling back.

Breathless.

Eyes wide.

“Shit,” he whispered, standing up. “Fuck. I—I shouldn’t’ve—fuck.”

“Chris—”

“I gotta go,” he said, grabbing his hoodie and bolting for the door.

He didn’t even look back.

And just like that, the room was silent.

And you were left staring at the ceiling.

Heart racing.

Wondering what the fuck just happened.

a/n: finally damn

taglist:

@courta13 @m4gz-png @lezleeferguson-120

@h3arts4nat @izzylovesmatt @sturnioliolo @hsemeria @sturniqloo

@venusbabysblog @chrisslut04 @crazy4weeed @chriscokewhore @chrisswaffles @urfavvvnyasee @sturnzluv @freshluvr @mattthemunchh @poolover123 @pleasantdelusionbear @carpentersturns @emosexyvirgin @emillionaireee @shamelessmilkshakefest @xoxochrissgf @sturniolodollx @joyfulheartwhispers @cutseylady @oopsiedaisydeer @steph1106

@laylaluvsu2000 @lvrsturniolo @chloe444 @yamommmasman @55sturn @whenlovesaround @luvs-booksss @vampyyluv @snowysosturn @moth-feeet @mx7ka @amb-3-r

[icaruspendragon]

excerpts from a eulogy for a complicated father

"I think something people don’t always think about when it comes to funerals is that this isn’t for him, it’s for us. For us to find comfort in words and in one another as we say goodbye. The words I have written are to honor my father, but they are also a way to remind us that mourning, that grief, is born from love.

And the bravest thing we can do is love. Because to love someone is to disarm yourself, to put your heart in their hands and say, “I know you will wrench me in half, but my love is stronger than my fear of the agony lurking in the shadows.” To take that inevitable agony and say, “I’m okay with my chest aching for the rest of my days because that ache will prove that you existed and I got to love you.” To look loss and agony and the aching hunger of emptiness in the face and proudly proclaim, “In every universe my heart will be placed in your hands because I will always love you all-consumingly, but I long to prove I could have loved you better.” 

Everyone here is mourning him, but we’re all mourning a different man. 

As I look around the room, I see the faces of people mourning a friend, a coworker, a brother, a son, a mentor, a husband, a member of your family regardless of if you share blood or not. A man achingly human and important to so many. 

But I stand before you all, my fellow mourners, as someone unfortunately unique. 

I am the only person in this room who is a daughter mourning her father. So I hope you’ll both forgive and understand me speaking from the perspective of a newly fatherless child. 

My dad wasn’t perfect. And I spent a lot of time wondering why he did things the way he did. I spent a lot of time being angry at him because I didn’t understand. And there are some things I still don’t understand, but now that I’m older I can see that was his way of trying. 

And now that he’s gone I wish I would have told him I understand a little better. That now I know he was cursed by his father. And that his father was cursed by his. I want to tell him now I know pain is just something we inherit from our fathers. And that I know anger is just another thing we get from them. 

Because I am angry. 

I’m angry at him for being stubborn. I’m angry that I have to suffer the consequences of his actions. I’m angry he never unlearned what his father taught him. He never learned he doesn’t have to endure pain. That he could ask for help when he was hurting. Because he had been hurting. He’d been hurting for days and on his final night claimed, “I’ll go to the doctor if I’m not feeling better tomorrow.” And then tomorrow arrived without him. 

So yes. I’m angry. I’m angry at him. 

But I’m more angry at myself for not telling him that he hurt me but I’d forgiven him a long time ago. And though the hurt he caused was big, my love was bigger. And that the hurt had faded, but my love never did. 

I’m angry at him because I can’t remember the last time he said “I love you.” 

And I’m angry at myself because I can’t remember the last time I said those words to him, either."

[mashiraostail]

Plleeassee 'you can sit on my lap' with Halsin PLEASEEE

ur wish is my command I did SFW bc it felt right but lemme no if u want different :3

It was always the same, which was sort of what annoyed you. It's not that your day to day fights had been particularly hard it was just the constant bumps and scrapes and bruises that weighed you down. Never enough damage to justify wasting healing magic, but just enough that you were uncomfortable in your day to day. You left some wounds to heal even once you're back at camp, preferring to let the others get fixed up before you. Today you could feel the itchy irritation of a cut healing over, right across the bridge of your nose. It was a constant bother, like a bug flying around your face, a tickle that would not subside no matter which way you scrunched your nose up.

"This city air isn't doing anything for me either." You feel Halsin's hand come down on your shoulder, heavy and warm. For a moment you were confused, you'd not complained at all since setting off for the day, then you realized your discomfort may be less subtle than you thought.

"Oh..." You wave, "who am I to complain?" You did enjoy Halsin, well perhaps more than enjoy.... given your late night trysts. Though he was still unfamiliar to you in some ways, and lacking a formal name for what the two of you shared often left you uncertain in your day to day with him.

"Please, I think this city would benefit from some complaining." He looks down at you, "I thought I was the only one."

"No..no.." You resist the urge to peel the scab over the bridge of your nose away, you were certain you'd start gushing blood all over, which given your current location made no sense at all. It had actually been a rather tame day so far, and it was already almost over.

"I think even the most dedicated Baldurians have it in them to complain about the smell from time to time." You give in, and start to chip away at the corner of the scab closest to your tear duct.

Halsin just laughs, "I see, well I suppose it's good to know I'm not alone..." He removes his hand from your shoulder and looks around a bit as you walk, though he stays close to you.

You can't help but hiss at the feeling of your skin peeling back, beyond the first wound, you supposed that was karma for picking it.

"Are you alright?" Halsin turns over his shoulder at you, "I heard you-" He looks down at your hand by your nose, "leave that alone." He bats your hand away, "you should have let me clean it up days ago, see now? You've made it worse."

"It's itchy." You rub the bridge of your nose for emphasis, "and I can't help it. I've always picked at my scabs, where do you think all these cool scars came from?"

"I can't say I doubt that. But still, this city is dirty, it's best to not bare an open wound to this kind of air." He procures a small cloth and dabs at the blood as it appears, "it's good you didn't peel open this whole thing, and it's a wonder you've not complained till now."

You can't help but flush at the attention, if anyone with you notices they spare you, "I'm alright, I've dealt with much worse."

"I'm sure you have, but there's no need with me around.... To tell you the truth," He dabs the small cloth with his tongue and wipes the dirt and grime away from the edges of the newly opened flesh, "I enjoy doting on you."

You look down at your boots to avoid looking at him, you can feel your ears burning.

"It's hard to see the damage out here, do you think you can hold out till we set up camp for the day?"

"Of course-" You swallow your embarrassment, "I'm okay like this, I'll live."

"Oh I hope so." Halsin is smiling at you, "who knows what I would do otherwise." He hands you the cloth, "keep this, incase it bleeds anymore."

"Thank you." You look up at him, "you've been a big help."

"Don't thank me, just.." He guides your hand holding the cloth up to your nose, and uses it to cover the wound, "keep it clean until we settle in for the night." You can only nod up at him.

True to your word you do keep your wound covered in the cloth for the rest of your journey that day. It was a long one, boring too. As much as the little battles left you irate, a boring day of gathering information and talking to every no name on the street was equally irksome.

When you get back to camp Halsin seems busy with Gale, who despite his best efforts is always the most banged up by the end of the day. You almost feel bad for him, until you see him bright and pristine every morning. So you sit by the fire, content on sharpening a stick into some sort of miniature spear, humming to yourself.

When Halsin finds you all of the dark bark has been scraped off the stick leaving it white and brittle looking.

"You hide in plain sight you know?" He offers you a hand and you take it, allowing him to hoist you up to your feet.

"It's one of my many talents." You toss the sharpened stick down, "how's Gale?"

"He's fine, I apologize, I should have come to you first."

"No," You laugh, "I'm sure he needed it more than me. You're here now."

"I am." He smiles at that, wider than you'd ever previously given yourself credit for, "come, let me see." He waves you closer and leans down toward you.

Once you've closed most of the gap you feel his eyes wander beyond the gash over your nose, down to your neck and collarbones, all to way to your wrists.

"Now that we're close like this...when was the last time you've been healed? Has Jaheria been taking up the job in my stead?" He seems almost offended at the thought.

"No-" You shake your head, "No, I've been mostly alright."

"Alright? You're practically covered in cuts and bruises- let's go someplace more private, you should have a once over." He guides you with a hand sprawled out between your shoulder blades, not leaving room for protest.

"You should have come to me sooner." He breaks the silence once you're away from camp, surrounded by trees and brush.

"You're always helping the others, I'm used to this, I'd rather they get what they need." You insist, gesturing vaguely to yourself.

"You can all have what you need." Halsin seems perplexed, "there's more than enough healing magic to go around, you don't have to worry about that."

"well it must be exhausting, constantly casting spells, you're always taking care of the others, what about you?"

"What about me?" Halsin tilts his head at you quizzically, "I'm alright too."

"Well who takes care of you?"

"When you live as long as I have," He starts tending to some of the smaller cuts on your arms, "you learn to take care of yourself. It comes with time."

"That's not fair." You frown, "everyone relies on you. It must be a heavy weight, especially with no one to lean on, or to rely on to care for you."

"You." Halsin sits on an old stump, "I have you. We care for each other....unless I'm mistaken."

"You're not." You allow him to turn you around, inspect you every which way for any major damage left untended.

"Good. Come here." He waves you into him but you stand, flushed and confused before him.

"Here." He gestures again, "you can sit in my lap."

Nervously you do, slotting yourself against him. It hadn't been many times but you'd sought his company before, and the feeling of his large hand cupped around you thigh was welcome, almost calming. It doesn't take very much magic at all to get you right again, and you're glad to accept it, at this point the constant discomfort was bordering on pain.

"You must be exhausted, they were small injuries but they were plenty, it must have worn on you." His hand spreads over the small of your back, "I meant what I said before." On his lap it's much easier for him to rest his head against your chest, you feel his hair tickling the side of your neck as he does.

"I enjoy caring for you, perhaps it's self serving, but please allow me the pleasure of it more often."

"I wasn't sure-" You flush at the sudden tenderness, it wasn't brand new, nor was it unwelcome, but it was still fresh, still took getting used to. "I didn't want to burden you."

"Be sure now." He picks his head up, "you're more than asset to hinder or help me me.... and certainly more than a friend." He spares a glance down to your hand, where it has wrapped around his bicep. "Don't be modest, when you ask for me, I'm happy to go to you. If I can bring you any comfort on the road ahead, then I'd be honored to."

"Thank you, Halsin." You rest your hand on the side of his neck and he hums at the feeling, glancing between your bodies then back to your face.

"You don't need to thank me," His hand slides along the divot of your spine, a soft touch made firm by the rough skin of his palms, "just come to me, whenever you need, even when you don't need to, but only want to. I do miss you after our nights together. I'd take comfort in knowing you feel the same."

"I do.." You nod, "I just hate to steal you away when the others-"

"Steal me away all you like," He laughs, "Gods, that sounds heavenly. I'm sure the others can manage a few hours." He kisses you for the first time that day. Which wasn't unusual, often he waited for more private moments to voice and show his affections, it was welcome and warm and you were glad to be on the receiving end of his affections.

"And knowing you feel the same is all the better." He wraps his arms around you in a bear hug perfectly fitting of the man giving it.

"I'm grateful to have spent this time enjoying you." He takes a deep breath, like he's trying to get as much of your scent as possible.

"Can we stay for a bit? Like this?" You pull back and pin away a stray strand of his hair, his chest huffs with a light airy chuckle as he nods.

"Of course, but you'll have to tear me away when you're done. I fear I won't want to go anywhere once I've settled down with you on me like this."

He resumes his bear hugging and despite the tightness of the hug, and the closeness of your bodies you don't feel cramped at all.

[aro-of-argentum]

Red Dahlia- Chapter 7

WC: 10,895

Notes: Oops I made it huge. There's a bunch going on in this chapter. Reader gets flowers at work, there's a bank robbery, Dick gives advice, Jason has a hard time talking about feelings (with reader or anybody for that matter), a classic "I think I know you" scene, and then a big ol' misunderstanding right there at the end. Don't worry, it'll get fixed next chapter. Heads up, the reader uses a gun in this one, no one dies though. Have fun!

Beta'd by: @teaspacebar

Previous Chapter, Masterlist, Next Chapter

Chapter 7:

Getting up for work the next morning was a slog. Your boss had called in the middle of the night saying they needed coverage for the day, and you took the shift knowing the overtime would be incredible. You were regretting it now. Still though, you found the energy deep inside you to get up and get in the shower, and actually even had time to pick up breakfast and coffee on your way in to work. No sooner than you had walked in the door, Marcy found you.

“Ugh, there you are!” She stormed over to your locker and gratefully took a bite of your sandwich when you offered it. Through the food in her mouth, she continued to speak. “I’m so happy you’re here for the last couple hours of my shift.” She swallowed and her speech became clear once again as she handed your breakfast back. “The phleb we had overnight was all over the place. I had turnaround times of hours on easy orders, and when I called the lab to check in on why, they told me they’d never even gotten the blood. Twice. Ugh, I hate incompetent shit heads.”

You heard a locker slam one row over and watched Gavin, the phlebotomist who’d just clocked out, storm out of the room. Your eyes went wide as you looked from him to Marcy pointedly.

She shook her head. “I don’t even care, he needed to hear it.”

“Sometimes I’m so glad you’re convinced I can do no wrong. You’re vicious.”

Marcy shrugged. “Do something wrong and then we’ll talk.”

The two of you laughed for a moment before you turned back to finish putting your things away, handing Marcy the last two bites of your food for her to finish before you both got to work. An hour into your shift you got a page directing you to the front desk. As you approached, you saw a delivery man holding a bundle of a dozen blood red dahlias, beautifully wrapped in black and grey burlap.

“Hi, I’m looking for Y/n?” he asked, looking at you expectantly.

“Yeah, uh…” You could hardly take your eyes off the gorgeous flowers. “That’s me.”

He nodded, handing you the bundle before walking away, entirely unfazed by the delivery.

The receptionist that was currently at the desk looked up at you, approval all through his expression and tone when he asked, “Girl, what did you do to get a man to send you flowers like that, and where can I get one?”

You chuckled as a heat spread over your cheeks. “I wouldn’t know where to look, I swear this one fell from the sky.” You smiled as you looked at the bulbs, your other hand coming up to run your fingertips over some of the petals. It hadn’t taken long after Red Hood had picked you up from work on his motorcycle a few weeks ago for seemingly everyone you knew in the hospital to be in on Marcy’s “Who is the secret boyfriend” game. It was easier to just play along than to try to explain.

He shook his head. “Well, you either need to share or you need to get your lovey-dovey out of my face, it’s getting all over me.” There was no malice behind his words, and he even winked at you as you turned to walk away.

Your walk to the lounge was quick, as you didn’t want Marcy to catch you with the flowers, though you were sure she’d find out soon enough anyway. Once you were inside and away from prying eyes, you took a moment to look for a card, and found one tucked between some of the stems.

It was a small white piece of cardstock folded in half, and inside, handwritten in black ink. ‘Thanks for last night.’

A new wave of emotion washed over you, a smile still covering your features as you remembered for a moment what it was like to have his arms around you. He’d been so warm, and smelled of gun-smoke and leather, with the remnants of a cologne you couldn’t quite place. You allowed your mind to wander for only a moment more before you tucked the flowers into your locker as gently as possible and headed back out to the floor.

The rest of the shift went by with ease and even though you were busy, the world seemed to know you were floating in air and didn’t want to bring you down. By the time you were getting ready to leave Marcy was long gone for the day, having sent a “Leaving now :P” text because you were in the middle of a draw when she left. You figured she was likely asleep, but that she’d text you later to hang out, as she always seemed to do when you both had an evening off. In the meantime, you decided a trip to the bank to finally get your debit card replaced was warranted. It was early enough that you could get there well before closing time, and if you got this figured out, you could stop using your phone to pay for groceries. Your face was covered in a smile once again as you pulled the flowers from your locker, quickly followed by your bag, and you set out to head home. The sun would still be up for a little while longer, so you didn’t activate your bracelet. You didn’t want to bother him if he was resting up after being injured, and besides, things weren’t nearly so bad in Gotham when it was still daylight out.

The walk was quick, and you dropped the flowers and your work bag off on the counter before quickly getting changed.  You grabbed the much smaller bag you used for other outings and transferred over all of the essentials: wallet, keys, pistol. You hadn’t needed it since Red started hanging around, but you still brought it everywhere. It was small, meant only to cause damage and be a distraction, and in any real-world situation, it had only ever been used to scare off would-be attackers; you’d never had to actually use it. Still, you kept up with your monthly sessions at the practice range so that if you ever needed it, your aim would be true.

The bank you were headed to was a longer distance than the walk from the hospital to your apartment, but it was certainly still doable. You stayed vigilant as ever as you made your way there, and had plenty of time to spare before closing, which you figured was for the better given how busy they were.

-

“Hey, can I talk to you about something?” Jason sent the text, nerves bubbling in his chest, though he knew if there was anyone he could trust with this, it was his brother.

Dick’s reply came back almost immediately. “Sure. I’ll be there in a few to meet with everyone before patrols. Is that fine?”

“Yeah.”

Jason was quick to get downstairs, inhaling a cold slice of pizza in the kitchen before descending into the cave to get dressed.

“Hey,” Dick announced himself so he wouldn’t startle the other man in the room. “What did you want to talk about?”

Jason was working his new shirt with the extra body armor on and struggling a bit because of his arm. It had healed quite a bit so far, but he was hoping it would be a quiet night.

“You know if you told Bruce you got hurt yesterday then you wouldn’t need to worry about this right now.” Dick was already over and helping Jason with the sleeve before his younger brother could get too frustrated with it. He knew there was no way to get Jason to open up if he was pissed, regardless of what he was pissed at.

“Yeah, whatever.” Jason brushed the comment off knowing Dick was just trying to look out for him. “I need advice on something.”

“Like something from yesterday?” He asked, finishing putting Jason’s glove on.

“Thanks, and yeah. I-” Jason’s sentence was cut off when he saw his bracelet light up. “It’s not even dark out…” He mumbled to himself as he tapped the button in return and turned the disc to view the map projection.

Dick shook his head in disbelief. “Hello? Earth to Jason.”

“No. Hang on.” He cut his brother off with a wave of his hand before turning his wrist outward to be more visible to Dick. “Do you know where this is?”

Dick Grayson looked over the small map for a moment before he answered. “I mean, I think there’s a bank over there?”

Not a moment after the sentence came out of Dick’s mouth, an alert went off on the computer. The pair heard Bruce call.

“Everyone in here. Now.”

The entire team, including those that weren’t going on patrol that night filtered into the room. Aside from the two eldest brothers, Cassandra was the only one dressed in her costume, as it was supposed to be the three of them working.

Bruce broke the silence as the younger vigilantes all looked back and forth between one another. “We just got an alert from GCPD. There’s a bank robbery, possible hostage situation, and they won’t get there in time.” He clicked a button and all of the information they had, including the address, showed up on screen.

That’s where you were. “We’ll go,” Jason stated, volunteering himself and Dick.

“Me too,” Cassandra spoke up as well. “We’re all already dressed, we can just patrol afterwards, or call if we need to switch out.”

“Fine, go.”

Bruce released the trio, and they immediately ran to the garage. Jason got on his own motorcycle, while Cassandra got on the back of Dick’s before they rode off.

“How did you know about the bank?” Jason heard his brother ask through the intercom in his helmet.

“What?”

“Your bracelet had a location indicator for the bank over a minute before we got the alert from GCPD. How?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Jason shot back.

“But-”

“Drop it.”

Cassandra watched Jason carefully from the back of Dick’s bike as the two drivers wove through traffic to get there as quickly as possible. She noticed the tension in his shoulders, normally non-existent on the way to assignments. Normally, he was more relaxed because he was getting a chance to release some of his pent-up anger in a productive way, but now he seemed more wound up than she’d seen him in a long time. When they got there, she found out why.

The boys stashed the motorcycles in an alley while Cassandra found a way in. There was a perfect window that led out to the lower roof, through which they could see the entire main lobby. The girl from the back of Jason’s motorcycle was in there.

“Hey, isn’t that your girlfriend?” She asked as soon as the boys were next to her by the window.

“Your what?” Dick questioned, head whipping toward Jason.

“We’re not talking about this right now.” The man in the red helmet only stared straight forward through the window, and he saw you pull a pistol from your bag as you crouched behind a sideways table.

“How long have you been hiding this from me?” He was whisper-yelling now.

“Couple months,” Cassandra chimed in, clearly trying to stir the pot as she adjusted her thermal sensors.

“Months?”

“Stop it.” Jason said, rolling his eyes.

“Were you ever gonna tell me?” Dick’s hand flew to his chest as though he was a victim and was not paying attention to what was happening inside like the other two were. “Was I just supposed to find out when you got married one day?”

“Relax, it is not that serious,” Jason started. He and Cassandra watched as you jumped out from behind the table and fired four shots, each landing in the hand or shoulder of a different gunman, effectively disabling them, before grabbing a child that was in harm’s way and diving back behind the table. “I think I love her.” It slipped from his mouth without a thought behind it.

Dick went quiet and Cassandra’s eyes went wide in shock as everyone, including Jason, processed what he’d just said. Cassandra’s voice is what finally brought everyone back.

“Okay guys, lock in. There's two at each set of doors and four in the lobby, and one with the branch manager in the back in front of the vault. That’s eleven total, but four are mostly useless now, so I’m saying seven. We good?”

Dick let go of his big brother attitude to fully become Nightwing and give the order to jump into action. He didn’t get a chance before he heard Jason.

“Shit, no-” Red Hood kicked in the window as he flew through it, dropping just inches in front of you where you had stood up to find the mother of the little girl from a moment ago. You hadn’t seen one of the men by the front door train his aim on you, but that’s what he was there for. Two shots landed in the armor on his shoulder blade, level with your head, just as he landed in front of you. “Hey.” He barely even flinched.

“Hi,” you said it with a smirk at his nonchalance after just being shot twice. “Glad to see you’re bulletproof today.”

“I told you I’d figure it out, didn’t I?” He followed your gaze as you watched the other two vigilantes drop in through the same opening, Nightwing rushing in to fight, and Orphan splitting off to where the manager had been dragged to the vault. Then he watched your eyes flick over his shoulder.

“Six o’clock.” Your arm shot out, brushing against his own at his side as you fired, and hit the gunman in the wrist, likely shattering the bones there. He would not be shooting again anytime soon.

Christ, you were perfect, he thought as he looked at you.

“Hey, Hood!” He heard Dick call to him, and though he knew the others would certainly have things handled, he also knew he needed to participate, stitches or not.

He remained standing in front of you for a moment before he cocked his head to the side. “I have some stuff I have to take care of.”

You snorted a laugh and smiled at him. “So go take care of it,” you said while motioning to where Nightwing was fighting two of the robbers. As soon as he turned away, you tucked your pistol into the back of your pants, knowing you wouldn’t need it anymore, and squatted down to the little girl still cowering behind the table. “Hey. Red Hood, and Nightwing, and Orphan are going to take care of us, okay? We’re gonna be okay.”

“…Okay…” She said back to you with tears in her eyes, clearly terrified.

“We’re going to stay here for right now, we’ll find your mom after it’s safe. The heroes will keep all of us safe until then.”

And they did. The only person who’d been hurt aside from the robbers was the bank’s manager, and he’d only been shot in the foot as “incentive” to open the vault. All eleven of the thugs were arrested, and the police had plenty of eyewitnesses and camera recorded evidence. They’d all be locked up after receiving medical care for their injuries.

It took the officers a while to get statements from everyone given how busy the bank had been, but you volunteered to go last, knowing you’d have company on your walk home if you waited until Red was able to leave too.

Jason watched from the roof next door as you answered questions, and the police took your statement. You seemed okay, and he was glad for it.

“Everything’s taken care of, we’re good to go.” Dick called from behind.

Jason’s response was aimed at his brother, but his gaze still hovered on you as he sat on the edge of the building. “I’m gonna stay a minute.”

Dick turned to Cassandra telling her to start patrols, and he’d be moving in a few. She nodded and cast a sideways glance at Jason before turning back to Dick, worry all over her face. She only left when he nodded again, to let her know he would take care of it. Once Cassandra was gone, the eldest Wayne sibling joined Jason on the lip of the building, feet dangling over the edge as they watched you speak with the officers.

“It was super weird you know.” He began.

Jason hardly acknowledged his brother, “What was?”

“I just watched you flirt. In the field. While we were on a job.” Each of his sentences was small, each making a point of their own. Jason was not one to flirt. He was not one to have that personality under the helmet. And he certainly wasn’t one to be distracted while working. And he knew these things as well as Dick did. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say you’re off your game.”

“I absolutely am not, I kicked ass in there!”

“Yeah, after you got shot twice.”

“Intentionally. To save someone’s life.”

Dick shook his head. “Little Wing, you did it to show off. You could have just as easily gotten her out of the way.”

“Is there a point to this?” He snapped back.

“Look, I’m not trying to make you feel shitty, I’m trying to point out that clearly you care. You care about her, and you care about how she sees you. That’s new,” Dick reasoned. “I want to make sure you’re okay.”

Jason nodded, taking in the words. “I’m okay. I feel better than I have in a long time actually.”

“Yeah?”

A small chuckle escaped through the modulator in his helmet. “Yeah, she’s pretty incredible.”

“You wanna tell me about her?” Dick elbowed Jason lightly, trying to goad him into it. The younger man was never the type to gush about something he enjoyed if he thought the other person might not really be listening.

Jason shook his head good-naturedly, knowing the game his older brother was playing. But he did want to talk about you, so he caved. “She reads the same kinds of books I do. She’s actually borrowing my copy of ‘Persuasion’ right now.”

“The Jane Austen novel?”

“Yes.”

“Cool,” Dick responded with a nod, relenting the conversation back to Jason.

“We talk every night on her way home from work, or rather she talks, I listen. She pretends she’s on the phone. Anyway.” He waved his hand as a dismissal of his last comment. “She calls me with the bracelet, which looks exactly the same as mine, and they have proximity indicators so once they’re on, they display a map like how you saw earlier. It’s how I let her know I’m there, even when it’s better that I’m not standing next to her, like on her walk home. She feels safer knowing I’m looking out for her.” He blushed, almost embarrassed, though he knew Dick couldn’t see it.

“She’s lucky to have you.” Dick was eager to let him keep talking about this, so he asked another question to prompt him. “What does she do for work?”

“She’s a phlebotomist at Gotham General, always wants to help people. She even made this compound with stem cells? She explained it to me, but I don’t fucking know the science. It’s a healing thing that I think she said works by copying the cells you already have to fix you faster, she’s used it on me a couple times, and-”

“So that’s who’s been patching you up. We were all curious how the hell you were recovering so fast. Did she use it on your arm?”

Jason nodded. “The stitches will come out tomorrow, which is why I didn’t want to tell Bruce. I would’ve been-”

“You would have been benched for longer.” Dick completed his sentence, nodding along. “Yeah.”

“She’s smart, and she’s kind, and she’s gorgeous…” His sentence trailed off as he contemplated. “I’m really happy when I’m with her.”

Dick’s smile was genuine, his heart warming for his brother. “Do you love her?”

Jason sighed and nodded slowly. “Yeah, I think I do.”

“And watching her shoot earlier?”

“Really sold me on it.” Both of the vigilantes on the roof laughed for a moment before coming back to the comfortable quiet that had previously surrounded the conversation.

“Does she know who you are?” Dick asked carefully. He didn’t want to scare Jason off the topic.

“No.”

“Have you thought about telling her?”

“All the time! But I have no idea where to start.” He got so quiet Dick could barely hear him. “What if I pull off the mask and she doesn’t want me once she knows who I am. What if she doesn’t want to know at all.”

Dick fell silent for a moment as he considered Jason’s words. His fears made perfect sense, but they would hold him back if he didn’t overcome them. “If you’re worried about her liking Jason, then you should meet her as Jason and see what happens.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean introduce yourself and start a conversation and let her decide how she feels about you when the mask isn’t in the picture. Then once you know, you can decide if you want to tell her or if it’s time to move on.”

Jason nodded his head and was about to respond when his bracelet lit up, and his eyes snapped down to you, walking away from the police that still surrounded the building. He looked back to Dick who had clearly also seen the glow.

“Go get your girl, Hood. I’ll cover your route.”

Jason cocked his head in disbelief. “You’d do that?”

“Just go.” Dick said, standing up and offering a hand to the other man, which wasn’t taken as Jason simply pushed off the side and fell, landing silently in the alley only a few yards behind you. The smirk on Dick’s face only grew as he watched his little brother jog a few strides to catch up to you before throwing an arm over your shoulder. He shook his head. It was clear to him his brother was over the moon.

-

You tucked into Red Hood’s side as he draped his left arm over your shoulders, grateful for the warmth he provided. “How’s your arm?” You asked.

“It’s good, it’s healing really well,” He held it up as though to show you, even though it was covered in his uniform and jacket. “I don’t think I pulled any of the stitches in that fight; I feel like it would hurt, right?”

You laughed and nodded. “Yes, it would. I didn’t want to interrupt your healing, but I knew calling for you was probably the fastest way to get help.”

“You did the right thing. I was coming out tonight anyway.”

“What?” You questioned, turning your head to look at him pointedly.

“Woah,” He recoiled a little in surprise at your tone shift. “I have to do my job, sweetheart, and besides, everything turned out fine.”

You looked down again, shaking your head defeatedly. “I wish you’d take care of yourself.”

Jason’s mood sobered immediately. “Oh. I’m sorry, I wasn’t-”

“No, I’m sorry.” You interrupted him, hands coming to your face in embarrassment. “I know that’s not fair to ask. I just meant that there’s like eight of you, so I thought you’d be able to at least take a day, but-”

“Hey, stop.” It was his turn to interrupt you, and he stopped the two of you walking so he could look at you head on. “I get it, and I hear you. I will try to do better.” He could start by actually reporting when he was injured. His heart melted when he saw your small nod, still clearly unsure. He looked around for a moment before reaching down for your hand. He knew it would make you a target if anyone saw, but there was no one around anyway. He used his grip on your palm to lead you as he started walking again and was happy to find that you threaded your fingers between his gloved ones. “Do you have other places to be tonight, or can I walk you home?”

“Home first for a while,” You responded. “Hey, how did you know I was at work today? I didn’t even get called in until after you left last night.”

He saw you there when he took Tim in for a busted nose this morning. “Lucky guess.”

You snorted, clearly not believing him. “I’m not going to ask any follow up questions, because I don’t think I want the answers. Thank you for the flowers, they’re gorgeous.”

“Sure, I’m glad you liked them.” Jason did his best to sound casual despite his heart jumping into his throat. He had been worried the color would be over the top but was happy to hear that you enjoyed them. “You said “home for a while.” Are you headed somewhere else?”

You gave a nod. “Marcy invited me out for drinks.”

“You’re going back out for drinks after being present for an armed robbery?” he questioned in disbelief.

“I think I’ve earned a drink after all that, don’t you?” You looked up at him with one eyebrow cocked in a dare for him to say something.

He could only shake his head as he relented. “You are something else.”

“I live in Gotham. If I got hung up on every time I witnessed a crime, I’d never go outside again. There are much worse things than walking out of a bank robbery unharmed.”

A hum of approval rumbled in his chest. “That I can agree with.”

“Largely thanks to you in fact,” you stated, pressing your elbow lightly into his ribs.

“Who, me?” He questioned, pushing as much innocence into his tone as he could muster. “Nah, you had it handled all on your own. Five of those guys are going to prison in casts because of you.”

A smirk of pride donned on your face for only a moment. “I almost got shot, though. The only reason I’m not in the hospital or dead right now is you. Thank you.”

“Always, sweetheart.” He gave your hand a squeeze for emphasis. “Where’d you learn to shoot like that?”

You were quiet for a moment before you summoned the courage to bring up the man that taught you to handle firearms. “My dad was big about being able to defend myself if I was ever going to live on my own. After that, practice, mostly.”

Jason nodded thoughtfully. “If there was ever a place to need it, it’s here.”

“No kidding.” You could only hope that he’d answer your next question, knowing it might have been too personal. “What about you? I can’t imagine you were born into all of this.”

“Actually,” A tightness formed in Jason’s shoulders as he considered how much he could tell you. He wanted you to know everything. “I grew up mostly on the streets here, so I sort of was born into it.”

“Oh…”

“Aw, don’t get too sad on me now.” He shook your hand where it was still wrapped in his, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m doing just fine these days.”

“You deserve better than that, I hope you know.” You leaned into him a little, putting you off balance for a few steps as you relied on him to keep you upright.

“I have it.” He rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb to reassure you as you continued to walk to your apartment.

When you approached your building, you pulled him down the alley and turned to face Red Hood without letting go of his hand, wanting to get every extra second out of this before he needed to leave. “So, I’ll see you later?”

He nodded. “I’ll be around. I still don’t think it’s a good idea to go out tonight. You should rest.”

You laughed at the irony. “You’re the one working with an injury, I’m just fine. Besides, it’s just the dive bar off 5th. We go there all the time; I will be okay.” You brought your hands up to straighten the collar of his jacket.

Jason gave a snort of disapproval, doing everything he could to ignore your hands on his chest. “If anything, I’m more worried about you now.”

“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing I can call you if something happens.” A small stretch of quiet fell over the two of you and you realized for the first time how close you were. Your hands were still on his chest, playing with the edges of his jacket. “Thanks for coming to save me.”

He huffed a laugh. “’Course. I would’ve been pissed if I got there, and the cops had let anything happen to you.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at him but didn’t stop messing with the zipper teeth in your grasp. “Stop it, Red, you’re making me blush.”

“And if I wanted to?” He stepped closer, forcing you to tilt your head farther to be able to look him in the eyes of his mask as he stared down at you and slid his left arm around your waist.

You gasped almost inaudibly, and your heart felt like it would beat out of your chest if you didn’t find a way to calm down. When you spoke, it was barely above a whisper, and you maintained eye contact with the mask. “This is the part where I’d kiss you goodnight if I could see your face.”

Fuck it. He’d take the helmet off in front of a crowd of a thousand people right now if you asked him to. But before he got the chance to say so, he felt you heave in a breath and push slightly against his chest. He gave no resistance, letting you create the space you wanted.

“Goodnight, Red.”

He felt himself let go of a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as you gave him a soft smile, almost apologetic, before you stepped out of his grasp. “Goodnight, Y/n.”

You turned to begin your walk away, but thought better of it, facing the man again for just a moment as you asked, “Do you want to come by tomorrow so I can take care of your stitches?”

“I’ll let you know when I’m on the way.”

Your smile was wide when you nodded at him before turning away, leaving the alley Jason stood in. He wouldn’t wait until tomorrow. He’d see you tonight.

-

Meeting up with Marcy was always a good time. Even on nights you hadn’t wanted to go out, you found that your friend somehow managed to supply enough social energy for the both of you, and tonight was no different. It was the same dive bar the pair of you always seemed to end up at, where the bartenders knew you, and probably overpoured most of the drinks they put out. The music was always a little too loud, the lights a little too dim, and the crowd was a constant mix of regulars talking amongst each other and bar-crawlers that had been kicked out of everywhere else.

You managed to step out of the way just as another woman’s drink sloshed over the side of her glass and splashed on the floor. “Oh!” She shrieked, eyes covered in a glitter that told you this was not her first stop of the evening. “Sorry!” She gave a short smile and a wave as she walked away.

You huffed a laugh and shook your head as you took the last couple steps up to fill the now open space in front of the bar. The floor was always sticky anyway.

“Hey! Y/n,” The bartender, Aaron, gave a wide smile as he saw you approach. “It’s been a minute, how are you?”

“I’m good, Aaron. Can I get two of the usual?” You asked, throwing two fingers up as an indicator in case he couldn’t hear.

He nodded in response. “Marcy with you?”

“Do I ever come out if she isn’t?” The two had been flirting with each other for the better part of a year, but never progressed past an occasional date or hookup. Marcy always told you it was because she’d pushed her expectations too high and didn’t want to ruin it. You knew it was because she was terrified of commitment. “You want me to send her over here for the next round?”

Aaron set the drinks down in front of you with a wink. “You’re the best.”

“And that’s why I’m your favorite!” You yelled as the music swelled.

“You’re my favorite because you tip well!” He shot back as he poured a round of shots for someone a few spaces down the bar.

You slid your card across the bar. “I had to buy your love somehow!”

You waited until you saw him pick up your card with a small salute to let you know he’d start a tab as usual for you before you walked away. Marcy had found your regular table along one of the walls, where she had a perfect view of the bar (and the man behind it) from her side of the booth.

“Hey! Took you long enough.” She took her glass from you and downed half of her drink in a gulp. “I’m going to need another in a minute.”

“Woah,” You cocked your head at her. “Everything okay?”

Marcy scoffed. “Work was atrocious last night, but you know that. And now I come out to try to relax and as soon as we get in here, I see some girl in a Coachella outfit is flirting with Aaron.” Her pout was exaggerated by her scowl when the girl who’d almost spilled her drink on you walked by.

“Flirting with the newbies gets him tips, Marce. And if you wanted to lock it down you could. You choose not to.”

“Ugh.” She finished her drink and snatched yours before you’d even gotten a sip from it. “I want you to bitch with me, not be a reasonable adult.”

You chuckled at her antics. “Okay, so she’s the worst for flirting with your man, and Aaron is the worst for… smiling at the people who pay him?”

She rolled her eyes playfully at you. “You know, not all of us can have perfect secret boyfriends. Some of us are destined to be alone for the rest of our lives.”

“Ha!” The noise escaped you before you could stop it, but you swerved the conversation away from your top-secret not-boyfriend. “Aaron would propose to you tomorrow if he thought you’d say yes.”

“Liar.” She grumbled, but the blush on her cheeks told you she likely agreed. “I’m going to go get another round.”

“You mean number three for you and my first one?”

“Shh.” She held a finger to her lips as she shushed you. “Shut up, judgy. Did you put your card down for a tab already?”

You nodded.

“M’kay.” She picked up the glasses to take back to the bar. “I’ll swap out. It’s not fair to have you pay when you need to be sober enough to get me back to your place in a couple hours.” You could only shake your head and smile at her as she walked away.

The night went much as it usually did when the two of you went out, Marcy indulging more than you, though she had thankfully slowed down some. She was drunk but would still be okay to make it to the car, and you’d only had one before realizing you’d need to drive and promptly switched to soda.

“No, because listen. I get he’s your favorite, or whatever, but Red Hood is so aggressive ya know? And I just, I don’t know… Nightwing does all those flips and stuff and he’s so pretty.”

You shook your head. This was somehow always where conversation with drunk Marcy ended up: speculation on the secret lives of Gotham’s vigilantes. “Marce, how do you know he’s pretty? They all wear masks.”

“No really, you can just tell, I swear and-” She stopped mid-sentence and did a double take toward the bar before looking back to you with wide eyes.

For a moment, worry crossed your mind as you looked at her. “What? What happened?” You asked, hushed in tone.

She tilted her head slightly toward the bar, eyes remaining as wide as they’d go. “There’s a Wayne over there.”

You squinted incredulously at her. “I’m sorry, a what?”

“A Wayne. In our little dive bar.” She looked over to the bar again slowly before her head snapped back to you. “And he’s staring.”

“Marcy, you’re staring. Knock it off.” You waited for her face to return mostly to normal before you chanced a glance in the direction of the bar. “And what do you mean he’s-” Your sentence dropped off when you made eye contact with the man you assumed she must be referring to. He was handsome; tall and wide, with a streak of white in his otherwise dark waves. And Marcy was right, he was staring. You turned slightly to ask her a question, without breaking your gaze on the man. “How do you know he’s a Wayne?”

“Didn’t I tell you they all fit the bill of “tall, dark, and handsome?” Especially the older two,” She let out a long whistle before continuing, “Besides, I saw him in the hospital this morning.”

“What?” That brought your attention back to Marcy.

“Yeah, that one’s Jason Todd, he brought one of the middle kids in this morning for a broken nose I think?” She scrunched her face as she tried to remember information that she shouldn’t be telling you.

“What’s a Wayne doing in a bar like this?” You questioned to yourself, still feeling his gaze on you.

“You’re going to go find out.”

“What? No.” You shot her down immediately.

“Babe one of us has to and it can’t be me, I can’t stand up by myself. You’re up, buttercup.” Marcy gestured toward the man very visibly with her hand as the end of her sentence got loud.

“Marcy,” You hissed through your teeth. “You’re making a scene.”

She leaned in close over the table as you reached for her hand, and her tone sounded deceptively sober when she spoke. “I will make a scene so big I will get casting calls about it if you don’t go over there. You have a boyfriend who doesn’t hang out with you in public, and a Wayne who is blatantly staring at you in the middle of a dive bar. One of those things is going to get you attention right now, and it’s not the secret one.”

“But-”

“It’s not cheating to just have a conversation and flirt,” She misread your hesitance and continued with her scheming. “You deserve to be flirted with and made to feel like you’re special because you are. And babes? A Wayne who can’t take his eyes off you is pretty damn special, so you go, or I start yelling.” She let go of you and leaned back, tipsy smile returning to her features and eyebrows raised in challenge.

“Fine.”

“Yay,” she said it in a whisper and softly clapped to herself as she watched you stand and make your way to the bar.

“Hey, Aaron?”

He slid over quickly, “Yeah?”

You smiled at him apologetically. “Can you send some fries out to Marcy please? She needs something other than liquor in her stomach right now.”

He chuckled and rang it into the register. “Sure thing. Anything else to drink?”

“Maybe water for her, but I’m okay.”

“You got it.” He gave a wink before moving on to the next person that called for his attention.

“Not drinking tonight?” A man asked right behind you, and you flinched at the proximity before whipping around.

You had to back all the way up to the bar to avoid touching the blond that loomed over you, breathing tequila into your air. “Uh, no.” Your brain ran through all of your options if this went any further, the easiest by far, would be to knee him in the groin and get Aaron to kick him out afterward.

“Aw come on, Dollface, you sure I can’t buy you just one?” He brought a hand up like he was going to touch your face. “Sometimes that’s all it takes to-” His hand was ripped away by something moving so fast you barely saw it.

“She said no.”

You turned your head and found none other than Jason Todd standing beside you, hand still clutching the man’s wrist and staring him down with venom in his eyes.

“Hey, man, if she’s your girlfriend or something,” His voice was laced with fear as he stared up at his captor. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Beat it.”

You watched as the man nodded only slightly before he was released, and he immediately fled across the room to a group noisily occupying a table in the corner.

“Are you okay?”

You looked up to find the softest green eyes you’d ever seen looking down at you full of concern. Your mind went blank for a moment as you stared before you were able to find words again. “Um, yeah, I’m okay I think.” You cocked your head a little and turned to face him. “Thanks for doing that, I really didn’t want to cause an issue for Aaron.” You gestured to the man behind the counter, still bouncing from person to person as he worked.

“I’m glad I could take care of it for you then.” He rested one elbow against the countertop and leaned into it, lessening your height difference by a couple of inches in the process. “I’m Jason.”

“I’m Y/n,” you responded. “And you’re my hero, so can I buy you a drink as a thank you?” You didn’t miss the way he barely flinched at the word “hero,” and a spark of familiarity went off in the back of your mind.

“I’m actually driving tonight, so no thank you. But I’d love to keep your attention for a while if you have the time.”

You nodded and smiled, “Sure.”

Jason’s heart leapt into his throat as it always seemed to around you when you looked into his eyes and smiled at him. Everything in him was desperate to touch you, but he knew that like this, you didn’t know him. The last thing he’d want is to scare you, especially after that creep had just tried to put his hands on you. “So, what brings you out tonight?”

“I came out with a friend,” You turned slightly to spot Marcy at your table, and she waved a French fry in greeting. You waved back and she gave a thumbs up, which you knew was visible to the man standing next to you. You heard him chuckle and turned back to face him. “Sorry about her, she’s…” You trailed off trying to think of the right word, “excited.”

“Over me?” He looked almost surprised at the notion, pressing a hand to his chest in feigned shock.

“She wanted me to find out what a Wayne was doing in a dive bar on this side of town.” You said defeated, hoping he wouldn’t be too offended by the task set out for you.

He smirked and the look brought a slight heat to your cheeks. “Oh, so you do know who I am. And here I thought I was pretty incognito, walking around in a hoodie.”

“Only because she told me.” Your hands went up in defense of yourself, but there was a sense of comfort in the conversation that you couldn’t place. It was almost like you knew him. “I had no idea what you even looked like until she said something. I don’t pay attention to the tabloids about your family, or in general.” You added the last bit with a mild look of disgust on your face. You never understood the point of stalking local celebrities just to put their breakfast sandwich of the day all over the front page.

“More of a classics reader, then?” He suggested, hoping he wasn’t pushing too far into familiar territory.

Your eyes snapped back to his, and you couldn’t help the suspicion that crept into your tone when you responded, “Yeah, actually. How did you-” Your question was cut off by someone bumping into you from behind, startling you out of your confusion. You felt another shove come as a big group of people tried to get to the front of a quickly forming line to close tabs, but you were immediately shielded from anything else as Jason switched your places. His back was now turned to the people crowding by the bar, and he’d wrapped his left arm around you to keep you close and protected. You had to look up significantly farther now to look in his eyes as his chest was almost pressed against yours. You’d been here before. A quick inhale rushed through your nose at the realization, and then you noticed the smell. A familiar mahogany cologne, though much stronger now, and leather, with just the slightest hint of gun-smoke.

Your heart was hammering in your chest and there was a lump forming in your throat as you looked at Jason and found him searching your eyes. Almost as though to encourage you, you felt small, absent-minded patterns being traced into your back and you released a breathy exhale. One of your hands found its way to his chest and rested over his heart, just as you’d done for Red Hood before, and you watched the man in front of you now relax into your touch. It was there, on the tip of your tongue, just waiting for you to ask.

“Y/n.”

The trance was shattered as your head snapped to look at Aaron, getting your attention from across the bar.

He looked genuinely apologetic, “Listen, I’m sorry to break up a moment, but Marcy is falling asleep at the table. She needs to go home.”

You nodded. “I got her.” And the man returned to his line. You turned back to Jason, who’d backed up some, and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, I,” Your breath heaved like you were going to sob as emotions you had no idea how to sort through began flooding your mind. “I have to go, I think.”

He nodded and released you the rest of the way, taking a full step back. “I get it. Go take care of your friend.” He gave you a reassuring side smile to let you know things were okay, and you were gone.

As you walked away from Jason Todd, your thoughts were sprinting and you weren’t sure you could pin down a single one of them, except that maybe you had just met Red without his mask. It was too many coincidences, right? But neither of you had said anything about it. It was him; it had to be. But if it wasn’t, then you were the biggest idiot of all time, desperate to assign a face to a name.

As Jason watched you walk away, he cursed to himself for not saying anything to you outright. You had to know, right? He was certain he’d seen it in your eyes: the realization. But more than anything he hoped that he hadn’t just ruined it all. Either way, he’d find out tomorrow.

You’d closed Marcy’s tab and collected her as quickly as possible and were now helping her stumble to the passenger seat of her car.

“You’re so nice, helping me stand, I love you.” She booped your nose with the tip of her finger just before she dropped into the seat. “Watching my feet,” she said lazily, anticipating your next words accurately. She dragged her feet away from the door as you closed it and moved to the other side of the car.

When you opened the door and turned, about to sit down behind the wheel, you noticed the bike in the front corner of the lot, up on the sidewalk. It was the same one you’d been on the back of weeks ago, you were sure of it. So that had to be him. When you were finally in the car, doors closed and key in the ignition, you took a deep breath to settle your emotions before putting the car in gear.

“Hey,” Marcy tried for your attention once the vehicle was moving. “You guys looked pretty cozy in there.” Her words were sing-songy as she turned as much as she was able under her seatbelt to face you. “Was that Secret Boyfriend?”

You were pretty fucking sure he was. “No, Marcy, of course not.”

Her bottom lip jutted out. “Bummer. You could use a sugar daddy.”

“Marcy!”

“No! Not “Marcy!”” she shouted back. “I’m drunk I get to say whatever I want and you gotta be nice to me.”

You could only shake your head at her and let the car fall back into silence so you could think. It made sense why he was so protective of his identity. Being a billionaire’s adopted son would certainly already make him a target for anyone hoping to make ransom money, but being a vigilante on top of it? Of course he couldn’t outright tell you anything. He probably swore some oath with the others that none of them could ever reveal themselves. Blatantly telling you who he was would be a huge safety risk. And he’d all but done it tonight because you asked him to. You’d crossed a line earlier. You’d told him you wanted him to take off the mask, the thing that protects his identity, and therefore his safety. And then he’d shown up to you without it.

Your heart sank into the pit of your stomach. He was putting himself in danger because of you.

-

Jason wasn’t on patrol tonight, and he knew Dick knew that, so there was no reason to lie when Dick pointedly asked, “What are you getting dressed for?”

“I’m going to get my stitches out,” Jason replied with a shrug, doing his best to conceal the nervous excitement in his chest.

“And the fact that everyone in this house, including you is capable of doing that?” Dick questioned further with his head cocked to the side.

“Irrelevant.”

The older of the two smiled. “What are you going to tell her?”

“Everything,” Jason answered without hesitation. “Or as much as she’ll let me.”

Dick nodded as he listened. “Are you nervous?”

“Extremely.” He huffed a shaky breath at the admission, knowing it was okay to talk to Dick about this, but still having trouble putting the feelings into words. “She seemed to like me okay at the bar, and I think she already knows, but there’s that voice in the back of my head telling me it’s all going to go to shit, and I just don’t see it yet.” He sat down to lace up his boots, and Dick sat beside him.

“I’m sure it’s gonna be fine, Jaybird, you just have to give it a chance.” He leaned over and wrapped an arm around the larger man in a side hug for a moment before leaving Jason alone with his thoughts.

When Jason activated his bracelet, you responded almost immediately, and it made him smile to think that you might even be excited to see him. It took only a couple of minutes to get to your apartment on his bike, and when he landed on the fire escape, he saw the window was left open a couple of inches. He squinted slightly at your disregard for safety and called out your name as he pulled the window open slowly but did not enter.

“It’s open!” He heard you call back from somewhere else in the apartment.

Jason still proceeded slowly so he wouldn’t scare you as he ducked through the window and closed it behind him. He drew the curtains shut for good measure. He didn’t need any prying eyes for this. He took notice of the vase on your counter containing the dahlias he’d sent you, and he smiled to himself at the thought that you’d taken the time to put them in water, so they’d last. He’d bring you flowers like that every week if you wanted them. It was then that you came around the corner, medical box in hand.

“Hey,” you greeted him with a smile spread on your face and Jason felt his heartbeat down to his fingertips.

“Hi,” he responded, almost breathless from nerves. “Where do you want me?”

“Couch is fine.”

He nodded and removed his jacket and gloves, placing them on the coffee table in a neat pile before he sat down in the same place he had last time he was here. There was no more pain in his arm as he moved his wrist and fingers, only a tight discomfort to having the stitches still embedded in a wound that no longer needed them.

“Are you on patrol tonight?” You asked, setting the med kit down on the coffee table before taking a seat next to him on the couch.

You took Jason’s hand when he offered it, and he immediately captured your fingers in his. “No, I’ve got time.” The two of you sat for a moment in silence, Jason tracing patterns into the base of your thumb with his own before you spoke up.

“Red?”

“Hm?” He hummed in response, but stayed lost in thought, focused on the contact.

“I can’t pull your stitches one handed.”

Jason’s head snapped back up and his eyes met yours through the mask. Your smile was sincere and almost apologetic, head tilted to the side slightly as you watched him. “Right,” he breathed the word. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, I just know these have to be bothering you.” You pulled his sleeve back and found an almost completely healed cut, that would hardly leave a scar. Your chest filled with pride as you turned to get the supplies you’d need. “It looks really good.”

“Yeah, that compound is impressive,” he noted as he watched you pull on a pair of gloves. “I got caught with the stitches, and everyone’s kind of in shock about how well it’s healing.”

“Oh so “everyone” knows about me now?” You asked as you got to work on his arm. “Should I expect the rest of the vigilantes to start showing up now? I’ll need more supplies…”

“I’m not letting them anywhere near you.”

“Is that you being protective or possessive, Red?”

Jason could have sworn his heart stopped at the way you looked up at him through your eyelashes when you asked that question. He cleared his throat, happy that his mask covered the fact that his face was a matching shade of red, “Protective, obviously. It would be a huge risk to draw more attention to you. You could get hurt, and-”

“Hey, it’s okay.” A small laugh bubbled from you at his rambling. “I’m not mad, I was just trying to poke, that’s all.”

He nodded and shut up, afraid to put his foot further into his mouth. Instead, he opted to watch you work as you carefully pulled each thread from his arm, your face in a relaxed concentration, like you’d done this a thousand times. “You’re so good at that.”

You froze for a moment and swallowed hard as you felt heat press up the back of your neck at the praise. There wasn’t another part of his sentence to latch onto and ignore the compliment, so all you could do was accept it. “Thank you. It’s taken a lot of practice.”

The pair of you fell into a comfortable silence as you finished by putting a bit more of the compound over the pinpricks in his skin, and this time he didn’t fight you on it.

“You’re healing faster than I expected you to, so you might not even need to keep it wrapped for more than a day or two, and you should have your full range of motion back.” You spoke while you wrapped his arm in a bandage, doing everything you could not to be distracted by the veins cording over the muscle there.

When you let go of him and stood to clean up, Jason tested to see if you were right. He pushed up his other sleeve and moved his arms the same, watching to make sure they looked the same as he slowly rotated his wrists and bent at the elbows. He found that he did have full range of motion, and the pain was gone; all he felt was a bit of soreness. “Thank you,” He stated once you’d sat back down.

“Of course,” you responded without hesitation, “Whenever you need someone to patch you up, you know I’m-”

“No, I mean-” He huffed a sigh, trying to find the right words, and was thankful you had the patience to wait for him to figure it out. “I’ve never- I’m not- fuck,” He growled in frustration. “Just give me a second.” He forced a breath out and felt your hand press against his chest. He covered it with his own, head hung, and eyes closed beneath the mask as he held onto you like an anchor. Feelings were hard. “I care about you. More than I care about most people, and I know that that’s insane, but it’s just- You give a shit. And then you don’t expect anything in return. And you take care of me. And it’s not just when I’m hurt; I can relax around you. I let my guard down and it scares the shit out of me, but I don’t hate it.”

“Oh.” You didn’t know what to say, so you chose not to. Instead, you pulled your hand from beneath his on his chest and wrapped your arms around him. Your left arm draped around his bicep and your right guided his head over your shoulder, your fingers resting at the nape of his neck as though to play with his hair if you had access to it. When you felt him settle into your hold and return it, you released a sigh of relief. “I don’t think I could ever not care about you.” With tears in your eyes, you breathed the sentiment into the side of his head and hoped he felt it.

The idea crossed into Jason’s mind and took root on its own. He wanted to kiss you now, and he knew a way. “Do you trust me?” It was barely more than a whisper from where his head was buried in your neck.

“Always,” came with a little squeeze around his shoulders.

Jason untangled himself from you, only enough to see your face. “Close your eyes.” He watched as you looked back and forth between the lenses of his mask for just a moment before you complied and swallowed a lump in your throat. He found your wrists before you were able to pull them back, and he slowly brought your hands to the sides of his helmet. He covered each of your fingers with his own as he guided you to where the release buttons were, just behind each of his ears. He pressed your index fingers into them and when the soft click sounded, he used your hands to pull the helmet free. There was no domino mask beneath it tonight. He could see how much faster your breathing had gotten when he took the helmet from you and set it aside.

Jason watched you carefully for any sign of discomfort as he reached for your face. He first ran a thumb over your cheekbone and felt you press into the touch. He then dragged it gently over your bottom lip, and when he heard the soft gasp it drew from you, his restraint vanished. He closed the distance.

When Red Hood’s lips met yours, it felt like it was the first time you’d ever really been kissed. Your arms immediately wrapped back around him, fingers finding their way to his hair this time as you pulled him as close as you could get him. It was as though he’d had the same thought, because suddenly you were lifted by his arms, now around your waist, and placed in his lap. You refused to let the movement distract you and instead used it to get into a more comfortable position straddling his thighs. It only seemed to spur him further, and when you felt his tongue brush against your lip, you allowed him full access. You moaned slightly at the taste of him in your mouth, and you felt one of his hands crush into your hip to push you back slightly.

He continued to kiss you, but he let the pace slow so it wouldn’t escalate any further. He needed to keep control of himself if he was going to have any kind of meaningful conversation with you after this. As the kiss turned more languid and comfortable, Jason dragged his thumb back and forth over your jaw while the rest of his hand rested against the side of your neck. Finally, he thought. He’d been wanting this for months. A small smile crossed his features, and he knew you could feel it by the appreciative hum you released in response. He felt a smile on your face for a moment as well.

“Y/n,” he started between kisses.

“Hm?” Was all the response you gave as you continued to melt into him, convinced you didn’t need air anymore as long as you could keep kissing him.

He pressed one more long but chaste kiss to your lips before pressing his forehead to yours. A new wave of nerves crashed over him as he considered his next words. “You can open your eyes now.”

You wanted to. “Wait,” The only reason he was doing this was because you asked him to. It was a huge risk to his safety, and he was going to show you anyway because of you. “You don’t have to do that for me, it’s not worth the- Red?”

Jason didn’t even hear the end of your sentence as his ears began ringing. He was right before. You didn’t want to know; it was better for you if he stayed under the mask. He pulled you off him and got up, and in an instant his helmet was secured again.

“Wait, Red-” You shot up from where he’d placed you on the couch and opened your eyes to find he was pulling his gloves on as he walked toward the fire escape. Tears sprung into your eyes. This wasn’t what you wanted. “Hold on, I wasn’t- stop!” You reached for his arm and your fingers latched onto the leather of the jacket he had yet to throw back on. He froze under your grasp. “Please, I just don’t want to make things more complicated for you. I don’t want to uproot your whole life like this, it would change everything for you.”

“Oh, we’re way past that, Sweetheart.” There was a venom in his voice, and he watched you flinch at the sour use of the name. Don’t. Something in him still didn’t want to hurt you.

“What?” You questioned and Jason’s heart only broke more as he watched tears stream from your eyes as you clutched the jacket draped over his arm.

He ripped it from your grasp as he spoke. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll see you around.” He turned and ignored your pleas for him not to go as he ripped the window open and disappeared.

What the hell just happened? was your only thought after he was gone. You broke down.

Jason’s ride home was brutal as he stewed in the rejection. He should have known better than to think you’d ever want him. The Red Hood, sure, but the forgotten, useless, Wayne son? Not a fucking chance. When he got home, Jason didn’t even bother putting his suit away. He stormed through the cave, ignoring Alfred as the man attempted to ask what was wrong, and when he got back to the manner, helmet under his arm, he headed straight for his room. Dick caught him in the hallway just outside his bedroom door.

“Woah, hey! How’d it go?” He put his hands out in front of himself toward Jason in attempt to slow him, but the younger man blew past him.

“Fuck you and your stupid fucking advice about giving shit a chance!” Jason turned to scream it in his brother’s face, tears visible in his eyes, before slamming the door shut behind him.

Dick could hear the crash and clattering of what was likely Jason’s helmet colliding with whatever used to be on the top of Jason’s dresser or nightstand. “So not great then,” he said to no one but himself.

Tag list: @4rachn3, @lettucel0ver