#he just 'rests' while closing his eyes it's very different

[sttrawberries]

A little side note: I read this on my computer, saved it as a draft so I could edit it my phone and add emojis to react to some things that I couldn't put into words but I think the draft is too long and it doesn't open in my phone, so this will be emojiless :(

‘’Unfortunately, while you’re apart, the Joker makes things even more complicated with a phone call and a gun. And your world comes crashing down before you can even put names to all the stars in your sky.’’ okay time to get tissues for my future tears before I start

‘’in this version, Rose and Jason never get together’’ THANK YOUUUUU!!! sorry but I��m so relieved sksksksks I’m just very glad things don’t get complicated adding Rose in the middle considering how close these two were

‘’mentions of Jason and the reader sharing a dark sense of humor to cope with their traumas’’ my kind of people

STARTING HARD ALREADY, PHEWWWW

‘’He would make jokes about ‘shutting you up’ by keeping his dick in your mouth, and you never wanted him to get too cocky about having this.’’ Me with the first half: -.- Me with the second half: :)

‘’Naturally, the room was filled with nothing but the sounds of you gurgling on his cock and the moans that he could barely contain due to the deadly heat of you eagerly swallowing his dick’’ *meanwhile the rest of the group*: ‘’oh no they’re at it again’’

‘’It was a move much more tender than he would have ever made before’’ progress!!!

‘’This Jason put his arm around you in a room full of people, not caring who looked on.’’ OH *imagine my eyes full of tears with a little smile*

Can I just say that I love how detailed this is? I love it!<3

‘’loving the absolutely lust-sick look on his face as you did this.’’ AAAAAAAAAAA if only I could see it

‘’It was a smooth, steady motion - a joining of two people that came from silent, delicate knowing and trust’’ manifesting this into existence

‘’Staring right into your eyes, no shying away, no backing down. As if inviting you to a more intimate part of him that you had somehow never seen’’ IT’S HAPPENING AAAAAA

‘’there was that thing deep in your gut that yearned for him to pull out and peel the condom off so that you could feel every single raw inch of him - but you told yourself you were smarter than that. You should be.’’ You better be! (meanwhile I would do the same sjsksksj)

‘’holding you like you were something precious. It was so unlike every other time he had fucked you - when all of his touches were about grabbing, consuming you, holding you like you were an object to be taken and owned by him in those moments.’’ !!!!

‘’But this was so different. Especially for you and Jason’’ enjoying this new way but also loving the old one

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You whispered back, fishing for some of that old banter - the humor that had founded your entire ‘relationship’ with Jason. ‘’ PLEASE THE BANTER MUST NEVER GO AWAY

‘’He resisted the urge to get sappy, to say ‘I meant you, you’re perfect’.’’ SHUT UPPP

OOOOOOH THIS NEW POSITION

‘’He sucked slightly, leaving marks, being entirely selfish in his claiming of you’’ I’m not complaining ksksksk

‘’It was his silent way of begging you not to double back, not to realize what a mistake you had made. ‘’ mhm..

‘’With his face buried in your neck, kissing you, breathing in your scent - it was almost tender.‘’ I’m speechless with this masterpiece

‘’You didn’t want to scare this part of him away. ‘’ :(

‘’You would be horrified if that tricky piece of latex got lost inside of you and you had to tell someone else in the Tower why you had to go to the ER to get it out.’’ SKSJSKSSJKSJS

‘’Dick had you guys locked up in the Tower, constantly breathing down your necks - that was one of the reasons why you even turned to Jason for sex at all. He was right there. He was available. He was decent looking.’’ Well asajshjshsjj

‘’that had you even more adamant about the condoms, because you didn’t know where he had… been. ‘’ KSJSAKSJAKS

‘’And then when Rose first came around, you saw the way she looked at him.’’ D:

‘’They don’t fuck other people because they’re in love. ‘’ *intense staring*

‘’and him giving that small bit of physical affection to Jason was about as good as an outright apology, telling him how much of a mistake it was to send him away in the first place.‘’ ugh

‘’You knew that Jason from a few weeks ago would have jumped at the chance to go back to Gotham, to resume his duties as Robin. ‘’ oh my boy

“The Tower was just supposed to be a temporary stop-over, right?”  well yeah

‘’Gotham needs Robin.” :/

‘’One of the main reasons he took up the mantle of Robin, taking on someone else’s costume and name, rather than creating his own - was because he knew that lots of lost kids looked up to Robin. When he was a young kid, growing up in the shittest parts of Gotham, he admired Robin. He had been truly thrilled to meet Dick for the first time because, in a world where he was starving and alone and none of the adults in his life cared - Robin was his hero. Someone (seemingly) not much older than himself, who donned a cape, didn’t have any superpowers or magic, and got to stand alongside the Bat himself, fighting for justice. A voice for the voiceless. A fist for the powerless’’ pls i want to hug him

“But… but what about us?”  AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

‘’He said it so fondly, like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to think of you and him as a pair. ‘’ CRYING EMOJI x6

THE ‘’ Say it and I’m yours for the rest of your life.’’’ TO THE ‘’ How much I fucking love you? How I can’t leave here now because I can’t leave you? How I would quit being Robin if it meant getting to be with you?’’ HAS ME SCREAMING

 “The Tower was supposed to be a stop-over. At first. (…) But then… we… happened.”  It doesn’t matter from which part of the world you’re reading this, if you focus enough I bet you can hear me screaming

‘’Was it the two of you finding your life-long soulmates and being too traumatized and stubborn and stupid to actually acknowledge it? ‘’ YES

‘’Jason’s face cracked with a flutter of disappointment and sadness’’ NOOOO BABY

‘’When he had found out how similar the two of you were, he found his soul more and more drawn to yours.’’

‘’Jason called it luck because it was that incident that led you on the path to meeting him. ‘’ HE’S SO IN LOVE

‘’Of course Dickhead was being righteous about his moral code. ‘’ JSSKJSKSJ

“Do you want me to go with you?” PLEASEEEE

‘’Jason had no clue why it was his first instinct to offer this. But it felt right. It felt instinctive to attempt to comfort you these days, rather than combating you or coming up with some annoying, clever comeback. ‘’ AAAAAAAAAA I’M CRYING

“You also have a habit of running toward situations that don’t benefit you.” I mean.. he’s not wrong

 “He keeps a trophy room full of stuff from every criminal he’s ever taken down (…) It’s his own form of weird, fucked-up sentiment.” (?

‘’Will I ever see you again?’ He wanted to ask.’’ aaaAAAAAAA

‘’Jason couldn’t imagine not having you around.’’ i could cry again

“I could come to Gotham.”  YESSSSSS

 “I guess I could come see that stupid cave you’re always talking about.” SKSJSJSS

“Come back afterwards.” He replied, clearly hoping for more cuddles - or more sex. ‘’ OKAY SKSKSSKSK

“So… I guess this is goodbye?”  NO

‘’If you had known that was going to be the last time you kissed him, you would have savored it more. ‘’ SHUT UP

‘’Or the shocking delightful kind of cold like when you played a prank on him, running your super-powered icy fingers up his back just to get a rise out of him.’’ SJSKSKS

‘’His arms were pinned behind his back and bound at the wrists –‘’ WHAT ALREADY NONONO

‘’His throat became dry and he held back a whimper of fright when he saw that the limp body on the floor was you.’’ IT’S A NIGHTMARE

‘’something that caused him to fall in love with you.’’ AAAAAAAAAAA

‘’But he had never seen you afraid’’ :(

‘’Why should it be Jason’s choice to trade one life for another? ‘’ *staring*

‘'And even if he did - he wasn’t going to give up Dick. He had a strange sense of loyalty to the person who had shit on him and failed to help him time and time again. ‘’ ah :(

‘’Jason grabbed you up in his arms, hoisting you onto his lap. (…) He hated the contrast of your cold flesh and the heat of the blood rushing out of you and quickly covering him.’’ Uf

‘’he was in his bedroom in Gotham.’’ :/

‘’He wanted to blame it on your lack of presence in his bed, or the fact that Bruce had practically banned him from training, now that he was benched from being Robin’’ too many things

‘’Bootycall Temporarily Unavailable’’ KSKSKDDJD

‘’The two of you often changed each other’s names in your contacts as a joke.’’ Aw cuties

‘‘Robin’s Ice Machine’’ KSSJSJSSJSSJ

‘’He had sent you a simple ‘u up?’ around three o’clock in the morning, being sleepless and horny, and you had replied ‘don’t come in here with that fuckboy attitude unless you’re bringing snacks’. ‘’ AJAKAJSKAJS

‘’I miss you. I can’t stop thinking about you.’’ SO CLOSE

‘’He heaved a sigh, deleted the message’’ NOOOOOO

‘’then considered texting Gar to ask where you actually were’’ pls

‘’When Jason went back to Gotham, Bruce made him go to therapy.’’ We’re getting there *crying*

‘’He genuinely thought that her only job was to dig around for his secrets - any signs of his weakness, and report them back to Bruce.’’ I feel him

“Mother.” Leslie said, posing the first word. 

“Fucker.” Jason said upon instinct, doing what he did best - deflecting from being too vulnerable by using crude humor. ‘’ KSSSJSSKSKSKSKSSKS

‘’She was one of the only adults in his life that he had ever felt bad for disappointing. Not because she put too many expectations on him - but because she didn’t. Because she expected pretty much nothing of him, and he wanted to show her that he could be great.’’  :/

‘’Jason appreciated it - nobody had ever given him the chance to ‘try again’. Not even you. But he was glad about that. When you mocked him for his mistakes or called him out on his bullshit, it made him want to try harder. You were the only person in the world that he found himself actively trying for.’’ AAAAA

‘’practicing the honesty that you had forced him to find within himself, Jason tried a more honest approach to Leslie’s word game.’’ Okay

‘’Bruce was the closest thing to a father that he ever had. And Jason knew that he was a bad son, constantly disappointing him - constantly failing to live up to the giant shadow that Dick had left behind.’’ NOOO I need to hug him please

“Safe.” She announced the next word.

“Y/N.” He said your name without hesitation.’’ AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA !!!

‘’She knew that someone like Jason hadn’t grown up feeling safe, and she was curious why the concept of safety came to him now as a person’s name - and why he seemed so conflicted about it, about someone he had never even mentioned before’’ HEHEHEHE

‘’Leslie didn’t presume to know Jason’s sexuality, or the gender of his special person (and she wouldn’t judge him, no matter what he said)’’ nice!

‘’A friend that he sometimes fucks? Should he even call you a friend? You had tried to save his life, but before that, the two of you had never really been friendly.’’ KSKSSKS

‘’it meant that you cared.’’ *eyes with tears and a smile*

‘’They know me - they - they’ve seen all the worst parts of me, and… somehow, they don’t care. Y/N saw me at my worst and didn’t run.” Making use of the tissues I got right now

“So - you find safety in not being judged? In… being allowed to be messy?” 

“Yeah.” Jason nodded. 

“Well, that’s perfectly normal.” She told him. 

Jason found an odd sense of relief in this. There wasn’t a lot that was normal in his life‘’ aw I’m happy

‘’Jason resisted the urge to speak up and say that you and him were definitely in the ‘something more’ category, but he didn’t want to jinx it. Not when it was yet to be official.‘’ SSKSSKS okay

‘’are founded on the truth. Founded on two people coming together because they find safety in being allowed to be their most authentic self with the other person. Feeling that they can make mistakes without being judged.” She explained this to him gently, and Jason couldn’t stop thinking about you. “So if you have that with someone, you should embrace it. Embrace that feeling of safety.” AAAAAAAAA

‘’Maybe it was something he wanted even more badly than becoming Robin again. ‘’ ah

‘’Jason knew that he wanted to be loved, even at his worst. But he thought that even you weren’t capable of that. Nobody was. ‘’ WE DO

“Next word.” Leslie looked back down at her list. “Fear.” 

Jason didn’t take long with that one either. 

“Y/N.” 

Leslie looked utterly confused at this one.’’ KSKSSKSKS OKAY I FEEL BAD FOR LESLIE SKSKSKS

‘’It was this mindset that brought him to visiting Crane in prison. He worked hard to reverse manufacture the Fear Gas, wanting to be brave for you - not knowing that it would ultimately be his downfall. ‘’ NOOOOOOOOO HERE IT COMES

‘’It was the type of wealth you had encountered very sparsely in your life. Initially, you had only met that type of rich person for the first time when you had met Dick - someone who drove a vintage Ashton Martin and said it was a ‘family heirloom’, yet thought nothing of trading it in for a minivan on a whim. ‘’ KSKSKSK

‘’You felt awkward accepting something that you hadn’t worked for.’’ :/

How reader felt when she first came to the tower :(

‘’she often mocked you for being so ‘obsessed’ with that ‘brick’ in your pocket’’ sksksksk

Reader constantly checking their phone for Jason’s crumbs

‘’she would rather spend her last days ‘in grace and dignity’ than to be balding and ‘out of her mind’ - so she didn’t accept the only potentially helpful chemo treatment that was offered to her. ‘’ I can understand that

‘’she was going to perform some voodoo ritual on you in order to use your young, healthy body to keep living her life’’ kssjksksks

‘’then you would consider it a much needed vacation.’’ Vacation abruptly interrumpted by a call about Jason..

‘’After the incident where he had free fallen from the building to his near death, he had changed his contact name in your phone to ‘The Flightless Bird’ - a terrible bit of dark humor. You loved it, and you had kept it since then.’’ JAJHSJAJSJJAKAJAJ

‘‘Cold Hands, Hot Ass’’ PFFF

‘’As much as you loved his cock, you thought about how weird it would be trying to get off in your grandmother’s house and Jason was so damn persistent and so damn tempting. ‘’ KSAJSKAJ

‘’I miss you like hell.’ ‘’ AAAAAAAAAA

‘’Dealing with homicidal psychos in costumes and you nagging me for a dick appointment. You on the Gotham tourism board?’’

‘' First stop on the tour - my bed. Second stop - night patrol. We spend a few hours kicking ass together. Which leads into our third stop - Little Tony’s downtown for some pizza’’ Im in

‘’perhaps slightly out of jealousy because he actually got the importance of a title and a suit and you didn’t yet have either.’’ NOOO WAIT YOU WILL HAVE ONE

NOOOOOOOOOOO DON’T DELETE THE MESSAGE

Ohhhh they don’t know yet…

‘’the biggest Robin fan you knew (Gar)’’ SKSKSS

‘’in a sense, he did. That he had begged you to let him go because he hadn’t thought that he was worth saving.’’ :/

‘’For once, this was something that Bruce had done that actually gave you hope for Jason’s future. ‘’ okay..

‘’The typing bubbles appeared at the top of the screen a few times and then disappeared, indicating that Jason had read your message and was unsure about what to say in reply’’ that awkward feeling..

‘’I know that you’re kind of fucked up - but so am I. And I don’t want to spend my time around anyone else because your kind of fucked up matches my fucked up really perfectly, and nobody else understands me like you do.’’ Okay that was a perfect answer

‘’It was something that a version of yourself from a few months ago would have done without hesitation, but you absolutely knew that things between you and Jason had changed. Hopefully, for the better. ‘’ :D

‘’I don’t think my place is with Bruce anymore.’’ AAAAA

‘’he had the ‘choice’ of being homeless or becoming Robin.’’ *SIGHS*

‘‘I got to be away from Bruce. I got some distance from the way he made me think about myself - about Robin. I used to think that I was nothing without him. That I was just some bullshit street kid nobody and him picking me up and making me Robin was what MADE me something.’’ Imagining isn’t enough, I need to cross the screen to hug him

‘’you’re the one who helped me realize that I am something without him. That I can be great - even without Robin.’’ PLEASE

‘’a part of you thought that you weren’t good for Jason. That you were just another nagging force in his life, another negativity. Then - you thought that you were just something he used to fill the time, to distract from the mental noise, as you did with him. And even then, as you realized that you needed him in other ways, and you might be coming to love him - you thought that he would never feel the same about you’’ AAAAAAAAAAAA

‘’The Flightless Bird: ‘Too much?’’’ I snorted

HE’S BEEN LOOKING FOR APARTMENTS

‘’Your stomach curled with warmth at the thought of you and Jason living together, and this time not because of some half-baked superhero team. But by choice.’’ PLEASE I WOULD LOVE TO SEE THAT

‘’Oh, living with rich grandmama has you getting used to the fancy pants lifestyle now? Shall I start looking at mansions with 500 acres and golden swimming pools?’’ SJSJSJ

‘’You’re the only person I know who grew up more poor than I did.’’

‘The correct tense is: poorer.’’

‘‘Yet you could afford grammar lessons? Damn.’’ I’M LAUGHING SO MUCH WITH THE WAY THAT TALK HAS TURNED INTO

‘‘Grandmama will probably have it steam cleaned when you leave. To get the street rat smell out.’ (…) ‘Anyway, do you like the apartment or not?’’ KASKAJAJAJ

‘’But - I thought me and you could help keep it safer.’’ MY HEART

‘’You resisted the urge to correct his grammar again, wanting to tell him the tense was ‘you and I’.’’ THE WAY I ALSO THOUGHT ABOUT THIS SKSKSKS

‘’You had no clue what stupid love bug had bitten you - but you were seriously agreeing to go view an apartment with Jason Todd. And you were more excited than anything else.’’ My hear is so warm now and I know I’m going to get my heart broken in a few paragraphs

‘’For the first time in your entire life, you felt giddy and optimistic for the future. ‘’ awwww

‘’On the other end, Jason pumped an arm and cheered quietly to himself,’’ MY BOYYY

‘’This was just the start of your life together. In his mind, this was just the first of many plans. ‘’ THEY’RE SO IN LOVE

‘’You didn’t want to tell him that you were getting attached to your grandmother, and you didn’t want to leave her yet. You thought he might mock you for developing those vulnerable familial attachments too quickly. And he would have been right’’ hehehe

‘’You sent it to him and received back several heart emojis. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Gorgeous as always, babe.’ 

Right then, Jason made that picture into his lockscreen.’’ AAAAAAAAAAAAAA A MAN

BUT I GUESS YOU’RE MINE????? AAAAAAAAAA

I knew her grandma would interrupt at some point, but why now? Crying

‘’Besides, I have heard they can give you cancer.” 

You let out a snort of laughter. At least it was nice to know where your sense of dark humor came from.’’ SSJSJSJ

‘’the Joker never made himself that obvious unless he wanted to get caught.’’ WE’RE GETTING TO THIS PART ALREADY NONONONO

And we don’t know what his reaction was to the last message, I’m gonna cry

‘’But it just made his senses dull and useless to everything around him. It made him less aware of his surroundings, it blurred out all his fight or flight that nature intended.’’ AAAAAAA NOOO

‘’Bruce tried to give him distance. Without Alfred around to keep an eye on him, nobody reported Jason missing. Nobody even noticed that he was gone. ‘’ NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO THIS IS TOO MUCH

‘’When Jason stopped answering your texts, you got a horrible feeling in your gut. ‘’ AAAAAAAAA THANK YOU

But they can’t tell they’re worried about him because they’re nothing official, crying again

‘’Maybe he had met someone else.‘’ reader spiraling, I don’t know if I should laugh or cry

‘’He spent the interim torturing Jason in increasingly creative ways.’’ Oh no

‘’But he had a feeling that the Joker wasn’t going to let him out of this. ‘’ shhhhh

‘’The Joker clapped his hands together above Jason’s head, loudly. Jason hated that he flinched.’’ Seeing Jason like this is breaking my heart

‘’He should never have made that picture of you into his lockscreen, you were too important, he had put you in danger’’ *crying emoji*

‘’Jason was beaten, dying because of the consequences of his own stupid actions, and you were worried. ‘’ PAINNN

‘’Bruce had gotten him when he had come back to Gotham. A bid to buy his affection’’ D:

‘’Also, sitting with your feet curled underneath you at the dining table caused her glare at you - a lot. ‘’ I feel called out

‘’But you supposed that those deathbed regrets ran deep and she preferred to spend this time with you actually embracing you instead of arguing with you and potentially driving you away.’’ OH GOOD

‘’Everything your grandmother was going for you, it made you feel like you truly mattered for the first time in your young life. ‘’ okay, her grandma it’s not that bad

‘’You wished more than anything that Jason was there with you. Not only would he pull you aside and relentlessly laugh at these plastic-y women with you, but you knew that he would be able to save you from this. He did have a bit more experience being around rich people because of Bruce, and he would actually be able to tell you what the hell they were saying’’ :(

‘’It was a picture of him sticking his tongue out that you had taken using the front facing camera when he had been annoying you over your shoulder one day’’ they’re so cute

‘’You were beginning not to care if he broke your heart. At this point, you were just along for the ride’’ this would be so nice if we didn’t know where this is going

‘’It hadn’t even occurred to you that you had given up Jason’s secret identity - the name behind the Robin mask. You were too busy quaking with fear, your chest tight as you considered: this might actually be the end of his life. ‘’ I DIDN’T NOTICED EITHER UNTIL THIS POINT

‘’You decided right then and there - maybe you had decided a long time ago - if he broke your heart by leaving you alone, by dying, you didn’t care. You didn’t care if he left you fucked up and broken. All of the time the two of you had spent together - it had all been worth it. ‘’ AAAAAAA

“I love you.” I’M CRYING

‘’Moments before his death, you sentenced him to the worst crime of all - breaking your heart. Now, with his own foolish choices, he had damned you to a life without the one you loved.’’ THIS IS SO RAW AND IT’S SO GOOD AND WELL THOUGHT AND ALSO HEARTBREAKING

‘’You weren’t surprised that Jason didn’t say it back - but you hoped that your words, that you saying it brought some comfort to him.’’ NOOO AND IT WAS THE OPPOSITE

“I’m - I’m so sorry, Y/N. Jason’s - he’s gone.” SHUT UP NO

*finishes drying tears* okay I know it took me a lot of time but I finally finished reading it, I absolutely loved it, again, this is a rollercoaster of emotions, from laughing to crying, I’ve enjoyed it so much. Everything was so well put together, thinking in every detail, even the heartbreaking parts had impacted on me so much (and I’m not usually the kind of person that goes looking for angst) but I appreciated every bit.

Now I have to ask, do you have a taglist? Can I be added for when the next part is posted? Thank you!

And thank you so much for sharing your stories! THEY’RE SO GOOD!!!!!!!!

The Jaws of Life

Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader

Now part of me has holes in it, and part of me is whole. 

We’ve only begun. 

I can’t decide - maybe it’s enough to get by for now.

But I’m having the time of my life - rotting in the sun.

We’re inside The Jaws of Life.

Part One: Panic Room

Summary:

You and Jason don't really hate each other - at least not anymore. Your feelings for each other are more than complicated, and before you have time to figure it all out, you have to part ways.

Jason goes back to Gotham at Bruce's behest, and you're off to visit a long lost relative that you didn't even know cared about you.

Unfortunately, while you're apart, the Joker makes things even more complicated with a phone call and a gun. And your world comes crashing down before you can even put names to all the stars in your sky.

Jason Todd x GN!Powered!Reader. Friends With Benefits to Lovers/Lovers Reunited. Smut, Extreme Emotional Angst, Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 3. 

Word Count: 19,900

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

This is a sequel to Emergency Contact, so make sure that you read that fic before you start this one. This can be read as a standalone, but reading that fic first provides emotional context for the relationship between the characters, and it gives you more amazing stuff to read! Either way, I hope you enjoy it.

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this fic has a lot of warnings, so strap in - the reader character is completely gender neutral - the main pronouns used for the bulk of the fic are you/yours and there is one scene where Jason is talking to someone else about the reader and uses they/them pronouns for the reader and there is absolutely no descriptions of what genitals the reader character has (I like all my GN fics to be interpreted so that the character could be trans, or cis, or nonbinary, and that they could have a penis or a vagina); there are implications of the reader being trans or nonbinary (something I threw in last minute cause it felt like it fit the fic well), but like with my fat reader fics - if you're cis then just ignore it, roll with it, and remember that most fics are catered specifically for you; this fic DOES use Y/N (as do all of my fics); the reader character has meta powers - the reader character can form ice crystals out of nothing and can freeze pretty much any substance; Jason calls the reader 'babe' (but as I said with the previous fic, I think this is a genderless nickname and Jason would call anyone this when flirting and being affectionate); mentions of Jason's canon kidnapping and canon interactions with Deathstroke (and the trauma those incidents likely caused for him); mentions of canon deaths; the fic starts off with a smut scene - the reader gives Jason a blowjob; mentions of Jason 'gagging' the reader with his cock (during previous incidents, not this time); Jason uses the word 'pretty' to describe the reader (he says they have a 'pretty mouth') - again, I feel like this word is fairly gender neutral, especially in the context of him being affectionate; finger sucking (the reader sucks on Jason's fingers); protected penetrative sex - Jason and the reader fuck while using a condom (and because I didn't describe the reader's genitals, it could be vaginal sex or anal sex, who knows); marking kink; some dirty talk; the reader is more submissive and Jason is more dominant, but there is no explicit BDSM roles; (very brief) cockwarming; (and I think that's it for the smut section, the rest of the warnings are non-smut related); mentions of Rose having a one-sided affection towards Jason or flirting with him to try and further her mission (in this version, Rose and Jason never get together); mentions of Jason's past and the trauma he has surrounding it - including discussions of his poverty, his parents' deaths, his abandonment and neglect by all the adults in his life, his time in foster care; Jason has a generally poor self-image in this fic and has negative internal dialogue surrounding himself when he is narrating; mentions of the reader having a backstory similar to Jason's - the reader grew up in severe poverty and neglect and was homeless for the majority of their young life, and also had a parent who had issues with substance abuse; descriptions of Jason being kidnapped by Deathstroke; semi graphic descriptions of blood and violence (and death); semi-graphic descriptions of Jason being tortured by a kidnapper; mentions of the reader going to visit a long lost relative who is dying of brain cancer (if themes around hospice and palliative care are triggering to you, then these sections might be triggering - but I haven't gone into detail about the medical aspects or mentioned any medical environments or medical equipment, the cancer is a background plot point); mentions of Jason and the reader sexting in the past (none of the messages are detailed here); mentions of Jason and the reader sharing a dark sense of humor to cope with their traumas; an enemy describes the reader character as a 'pretty one' and 'pretty thing' (again, I think this is fairly gender neutral, and the villain uses this term in a more condescending way); descriptions of gun violence; this entire fic has extreme emotional angst, and this first half is the more 'light-hearted' part, so do be warned that this fic will not make you happy and it is a big whump fest.

A/N: I am so fucking excited to post this fic, you guys have no idea omg. This is just the first half, and I think the fic as a whole is what makes it a great fic, but I think this is an amazing start/introduction and I am so excited to hear what you guys think of it!! Especially considering that this fic has been two years in the making and I am finally getting to post it omg. I am SO EXCITED !!!!!

...

“Fuck, babe.” 

Jason let out a breathy sigh as your mouth worked on his cock, sloppy and eager against the beautiful dick that you had come to know so well over these past few months. 

It was rare that you treated him to a blowjob. Since the two of you had started this ‘relationship’, you had noticed that he often got too greedy when you sucked him off - trying too hard to take control, shoving his cock into your mouth with unhinged care, rather than just sitting back to enjoy the ride. He would make jokes about ‘shutting you up’ by keeping his dick in your mouth, and you never wanted him to get too cocky about having this. 

You wanted him to know that it was a privilege to have his cock in your mouth, especially without you simply biting his (very perfect) cock off. 

But after the chaotic past few weeks that the team had - with Gar and Conner being captured by Cadmus, with Donna’s funeral still fresh in everyone’s minds - you thought that Jason deserved this to take his mind off all of it. His wounds from Deathstroke had barely healed and everyone was still mourning. 

So you had him flat on his back in his bed - similar to the position he had you in not too long ago, when he had pulled the bullet fragment out of your stomach and bandaged you up. And you were straddling his knees as you worked your mouth on his cock, your tongue flat against the underside of the thick, impressive length while you bobbed your head, letting spit flow freely from your open mouth without care. It sloppily gathered around the base, slick down over his balls in a perfect, messy way. 

Naturally, the room was filled with nothing but the sounds of you gurgling on his cock and the moans that he could barely contain due to the deadly heat of you eagerly swallowing his dick. 

“Fuckin’ love your mouth.” He moaned, bringing a hand down to stroke gentle fingers across your cheek - burning, something that made you gasp quietly against his flesh. 

It was a move much more tender than he would have ever made before. 

This Jason was a Jason much sweeter than the one Doctor Light took from you on that near-fatal night. You knew that it likely had a lot to do with you laying your life on the line for him - the fact that you had dangled yourself out of a high-rise building trying to save him, vowed that you would never let him go. 

That night had changed everything for the both of you. 

This Jason was not the same sex-hungry, carnal, ‘live for the moment’ person who had left The Tower that night, half-cocked and determined to prove that he was better than the old ‘relics’ who kept leaving him out of all their plans. This Jason was humble, quiet, thoughtful. This Jason put his arm around you in a room full of people, not caring who looked on. This Jason actually took the time to think before he spoke. 

This Jason - even if he didn’t want to admit it - clearly cared about your feelings and wanted to show it. 

(And that made him a lot more deserving of a blowjob, unlike the Jason who would fuck into your mouth without asking and then laugh when you gagged on his cock.) 

“Goddammit, ‘m close.” Jason mumbled out - you could feel the muscles of his thighs straining under your palms, a concerted effort not to buck up into the warmth of your mouth to chase the finality of his high. 

You would have thanked him for it, if you didn’t have your mouth full. Instead, you bobbed your head faster and moaned around him - a wordless invitation for him to cum down your throat, for him to have a prize that he wouldn’t have been worthy of before. 

“Shit, babe-” 

Jason seethed through his teeth, and then curled his fist into the back of your shirt, tugging - surprisingly, urging you to pull away from his cock. 

“Come on, come up.” He said, gulping for breath. “I wanna fuck you.” 

You pulled off, leaving a sloppy twinge of spit trailing from your swollen lips to the pink head of his cock, glistening wet and slick sounding. His dick bobbed back toward his pelvis with a filthy, wet sound - causing him to groan as you caught your breath with a small gasp. 

“You feelin’ okay?” You chuckled, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “I have never known you to turn down cumming in my mouth.” 

“As tempting as it is to see my cum dripping from your pretty lips…” 

Jason said, reaching down and gently shoving his thumb past your over-worked, swollen lips. Naturally, you stuck your tongue out and tasted his skin, wrapping your lips around the digit and sucking once again, loving the absolutely lust-sick look on his face as you did this. 

You couldn’t help but to indulge in the attention - not when it was his eyes on you. 

“I definitely can’t pass up the opportunity to watch you cum while you ride my cock.” He added on, his voice rumbling quietly with lust, the idea clearly something that truly excited him. 

You popped your mouth off his thumb before you spoke. 

“Oh? You think you’re gonna make me cum before you blow your load?” You chuckled, posing it as a challenge - knowing that he fucked you better when he was riled up, when he thought of it as another thing to prove himself in. 

“Think I’m some kind of amateaur?” Jason scoffed quietly under his breath. 

He put a hand on your hip and pulled you up his body, silently agreeing to the challenge that you had posed. You shed your shirt while he grabbed a condom - you were already prepped and well lubed, seeing as Jason had made you cum with his fingers and his mouth before you had turned him over on his back, seeking to return the favor. 

He rolled the condom on and slicked up his cock with more lube for good measure, something that made a wonderfully filthy slick sound. Then, with his hands firm on your hips, he pulled you up to straddle him and had you mounting him like he was a throne that you were meant to sit upon. 

You let out a rattling moan as you sat down on his cock, feeling the full hot length stretch you open for the first time in too long. It was a smooth, steady motion - a joining of two people that came from silent, delicate knowing and trust. At this point, he didn’t have to stop and ask if you were okay - he simply knew from the blissed-out look on your face that you were enjoying every inch of it. 

It was perfect. 

With your hands balanced on his chest and his forehead pressed against yours, for once, his eyes daring to gaze into yours past the thickness of his lashes. Usually he busied himself with his head in your neck, or squeezed his eyes shut when your dirty talk got to him particularly well. And often, insisted on fucking you from behind so that he could focus more on destroying you with ‘skill’ than falling apart due to the expressions on your face and seeing every little echo of his cock flicker in your eyes. 

But this was distinctly different. Staring right into your eyes, no shying away, no backing down. As if inviting you to a more intimate part of him that you had somehow never seen, even if you had been naked together and fucked each other dozens of times by now. 

He was hot and heavy inside of you, so beautifully thick, filling you up so well. Strangely, there was that thing deep in your gut that yearned for him to pull out and peel the condom off so that you could feel every single raw inch of him - but you told yourself you were smarter than that. You should be. 

“Perfect.” Jason sighed, his breath puffing out against your chin. 

It was that single word that warmed your insides and made you clench around his cock, causing him to hum from deep within his chest. He stroked a slow, gentle hand from your hip to the fullness of your ass, up your back, holding you like you were something precious. It was so unlike every other time he had fucked you - when all of his touches were about grabbing, consuming you, holding you like you were an object to be taken and owned by him in those moments. 

You had liked it then. It was emotionally detached - but it was hot. It always made you cum hard and fast. 

But this was so different. Especially for you and Jason. 

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You whispered back, fishing for some of that old banter - the humor that had founded your entire ‘relationship’ with Jason. 

Jason laughed, and you bit back a moan when you felt the sound vibrating through you, when it drove his cock just a bit deeper inside of you. 

He resisted the urge to get sappy, to say ‘I meant you, you’re perfect’. Instead, he wrapped an arm around your waist, tucked a possessive touch tight around you and planted the other arm in the middle of your back, sitting himself up slightly, bending his knees - getting good leverage for what he wanted to do next.

“I don’t need to stroke my own ego when I have you, babe.” Jason announced, his smirk appearing in its usual stance and his voice soft.

Before you could muster any clever reply, he used his tight hold on you to lift you slightly off his cock and then began fucking up into you. In tandem with his rough, heavy thrusts up into you, he slammed your body down to meet the thickness of his cock, creating a rough, demanding rhythm that easily chased the air out of your lungs. 

“Jay-” You gasped, quickly becoming breathless. “Jason, fuck me!” 

You could little more than let him fuck you senseless. You were used to the feeling of his cock filling you up like this, yet it created that deadly curl in your gut each time like it was brand new. It sent harsh stinging across your nerve endings, a deadly wash across your skin as the heat crept through you. 

You knew that Jason was talented at this, but you also knew that it was something else. Something more than attraction - something you couldn’t get from anyone else that you still refused to fully acknowledge. 

“Hey, shh.” 

Jason hushed you, using that beautifully condescending coo that you knew meant he didn’t actually want you to be quiet - he always wanted to hear how loud you became when you were entranced by his cock. He bent his knees more to fuck up into you even harsher, causing you to make a wounded sound as his cock got even deeper into you. 

“I’ve got you.” He whispered, hot against your chin. “I’ve got you, babe.” 

The gentle, soothing nature of his voice juxtaposed with the venomous sting of his cock continually snapping against your pelvis was something that made you downright dizzy. All the combined sensations had your body arching against him - your muscles were tightening up, and though he felt that distinct warmth rising up in his own gut, he was proud to know that he had you there already. He was going to make you cum first, just like he had promised. He knew your body too well by now not to play you like a well tuned fiddle. 

“You gonna be good for me?” 

Jason mumbled against your neck, leaning in to gently skim his teeth along your skin. He sucked slightly, leaving marks, being entirely selfish in his claiming of you. He loved the taste of your skin on his tongue. If you refused to let him go, if you refused to leave him to let him rot in his own poisonous life, then he would let everyone know that you had taken him on and that you were owned now. It was his silent way of begging you not to double back, not to realize what a mistake you had made. 

“You gonna cum on by cock?” He added on, his throat flexing slightly as his own lust clutched at him. 

It was something that you couldn’t have refused if you tried. 

“Jason-!” 

You gasped out, unconsciously bucking your hips down to meet his thrusts as he continued fucking up into you hard, getting quite the workout in his legs and abs, spearing his cock into you from the angle below you. 

But fuck, you were so worth it. Seeing the twisting pleasure on your face as your orgasm washed over you, feeling the pleasant sting in his back as your nails dug into his shoulders. Hearing your choked off moans and panting breaths as you could do nothing but hang on for the ride, feeling the beautiful mess across his pelvis as you came, showing him just how good he was fucking you. 

“So good.” Jason moaned into your neck, latching on to suck the skin there once again. “Fuck, Y/N, so good for me.” 

He found his own skin on fire once again as you tightened around his dick, your muscles becoming a hot vice around him as you rode out your orgasm, forcing his mind blank from the pure pleasure of it all. He loved the sounds you made, the look on your face, the way you ground your hips so closely against his as you savored every second of it. 

Jason was dizzy as his own orgasm hit him, his whole body tingling and sparking with pleasure as he shot his load into the condom. He put a hand across your back, pulling you close, pressing your body flush against his and grinding up into you in tentative, almost gentle strokes as he rode it out. With his face buried in your neck, kissing you, breathing in your scent - it was almost tender. 

It was the closest to love-making that you and Jason had ever gotten. 

“Fuck, Jason.” You whined, your stomach curling with a new kind of heat, your skin on fire - this time, alight with the newly birthed feeling of his loving touch on your skin. 

To an extent, it almost frightened you. Especially because of how much you liked it, how you could see yourself growing to love it. Especially because now you felt timid. You didn’t want to scare this part of him away. 

“I’ve got you.” He said again, quietly mumbling the words into your neck like a sacred promise. 

Unable to resist the urge, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, truly holding him, leaning into his touch. You relaxed against his body, sagging into the hold, and Jason hummed with content against your skin at the feeling. 

For a few moments - a capsule against the world that felt more peaceful than you had ever known - you let yourself become lost to this feeling. 

Still speared on his slowly softening cock, you simply enjoyed the feeling of his hard, muscled frame against you, the feeling of his arms wrapped around you in such an affectionate hold - like two giant pillars keeping you safe from the world. You enjoyed the scent of his fading cologne twinged with his sweat, let one of your hands wander up into his hair and thread a couple of your fingers along his scalp, which got another pleasant moan from him. 

When you unconsciously clenched down on him again, you had a thought.

“Jason,” You whimpered out quietly. “The condom.” 

It was a cruel disturbance to your peaceful little world, but he knew that the two of you couldn’t just stay like that forever. He would have to separate from you to throw it out eventually. You would be horrified if that tricky piece of latex got lost inside of you and you had to tell someone else in the Tower why you had to go to the ER to get it out. 

“Oh shit.” He sighed in return. 

You hesitantly climbed off him and luckily, the condom easily slid out on his soft cock, and he tossed it away while you collapsed to lay on the bed beside him.

“We should just stop using condoms.” Jason chuckled, giving you a sly grin as he laid back against the pillows beside you. 

“Funny.” You griped sarcastically, moving to lay against his chest. You couldn’t resist the urge to cuddle, even if you wanted to go take a shower and get cleaned up. You could use the excuse that your legs were jelly right now and you wanted to gain back some of your energy first. 

You wanted to bring up the fact that you had been so adamant about using condoms with Jason because your ‘relationship’ with him was supposed to strictly be about sex. Sure, when the two of you started fucking, you didn’t expect that he was going to be sleeping with a different person every other week. Dick had you guys locked up in the Tower, constantly breathing down your necks - that was one of the reasons why you even turned to Jason for sex at all. He was right there. He was available. He was decent looking. 

And when you and Jason had started sleeping together, you had thought he was lying about how many people he had fucked before you. You thought he was a mouthy virgin or that he had slept with maybe one other person before he so boldly started pursuing you. But he could definitely back up all the talk, and that had you wondering how many of his claims were true. And that had you even more adamant about the condoms, because you didn’t know where he had… been. 

And then when Rose first came around, you saw the way she looked at him. You had seen her trying to flirt with him - a gentle touch on his arm, trying to pull him aside to talk after he came back from his brush with Deathstroke. You had wondered if there was something going on between her and Jason. 

You wondered if Jason proposing to drop condoms was his strange way of asking you to upgrade the status of your relationship. Friends with benefits, people who are still allowed to fuck other people - they use condoms. They have to use condoms, just in case. But people in a more serious relationship - they don’t always use condoms, because they don’t fuck other people. They don’t fuck other people because they’re in love. 

“Jason-” You said his name gently, about to ask him this, but then - his phone rang. 

A high-pitched digital tone chimed out from where he had put it on the nightstand and Jason groaned loudly in annoyance before he picked it up, looked at the Caller ID, and then promptly ignored the call. 

“Who was it?” You asked, curious who he would outright ignore like that. 

“Bruce.” He said, his tone dull, clearly feeling uncertain about the man. “The old man can leave a voicemail. Or send a text like a normal person.” 

This was strange to you. You thought that Bruce and Jason were coming to be on better terms. 

Bruce had come to Donna’s funeral, and you had seen the two of them talking quietly at one point. You had tried not to stare at the interaction unfolding, poorly reading Bruce’s lips out of the corner of your eye (but you didn’t get much out of it). Near the end of it, you had seen Bruce give Jason a fatherly pat on the shoulder before he walked away from the conversation, and Jason had looked entirely pensive about the whole thing, even if he hadn’t told you what it was about. 

You hadn’t been introduced to Bruce, then - the funeral really wasn’t the time for ‘meeting and greeting’, seeing as everyone was quietly in mourning over their lost friend. But you got the sense that he was a stoic and reserved man, and him giving that small bit of physical affection to Jason was about as good as an outright apology, telling him how much of a mistake it was to send him away in the first place. 

Apparently Jason didn’t feel the same way. 

“I didn’t know you were screening his calls.” You said, curious as to why Jason didn’t want to talk to Bruce. 

“I’m busy.” Jason said, giving you his usual stunning grin before he leaned in and began kissing up your neck again. It was a pleasant, sweet type of affection, but he was clearly deflecting from the actual point you were trying to make, trying to distract you. 

He didn’t want to talk about Bruce. And that only made you want to press the point harder. 

“Why?” You asked, trying not to fall victim to the feeling of Jason’s soft lips against your neck, lovingly sucking, moving with gentle kisses against your skin.

“‘Why’ what?” Jason replied - perhaps playing dumb, perhaps genuinely not knowing what you meant. 

“Why won’t you talk to Bruce?” You asked, clarifying. 

Jason sighed and leaned back against his pillow, collapsing with defeat. 

After a moment of tense, thoughtful silence - a moment in which you worried that you had pushed too far and he would simply tell you to get out - he finally gave in to the fact that he would have to talk about it. He gave in to the idea that talking to you about it would be easier than not talking about it at all. 

“He wants me to go back to Gotham.” Jason announced. 

He sounded oddly sullen speaking these words, which instantly confused you. You knew that Jason from a few weeks ago would have jumped at the chance to go back to Gotham, to resume his duties as Robin. He would have screamed with joy and eagerly asked Bruce when the next flight out was. 

So why was he hesitant now? Did it have to do with the incident with Deathstroke? Did he doubt his capabilities as Robin now? Did he want to quit?

“You don’t want to?” You asked, trying to sound gentle rather than accusatory. 

Jason found it all too easy to open up to you now. 

“I don’t know what I want.” Jason shrugged, entirely raw and honest in this declaration - for once, not dancing around his more serious emotions with jokes or sarcasm. “I mean, before, I would have been excited for Bruce to invite me back. But now…”

“This is probably for the best.” 

You said, trying to motivate him past his potential insecurities. Before it was something you had done with playful combatance, knowing that if you faced him with a challenge, he would always rise to prove himself, even if it was out of spite. And now it was something you did with brutal, soft honesty, but still, it was nothing new for you.

“The Tower was just supposed to be a temporary stop-over, right?” 

You posed, reaching out and gently brushing your fingers across his jaw. He stared into your eyes then, and you saw something swimming there - nerves. Longing. 

“Gotham needs Robin.” 

You repeated it because it was something you had heard Jason say before. 

One of the main reasons he took up the mantle of Robin, taking on someone else’s costume and name, rather than creating his own - was because he knew that lots of lost kids looked up to Robin. When he was a young kid, growing up in the shittest parts of Gotham, he admired Robin. He had been truly thrilled to meet Dick for the first time because, in a world where he was starving and alone and none of the adults in his life cared - Robin was his hero. Someone (seemingly) not much older than himself, who donned a cape, didn’t have any superpowers or magic, and got to stand alongside the Bat himself, fighting for justice. A voice for the voiceless. A fist for the powerless. 

Jason went to bed cold and hungry many nights thinking about Robin. Thinking about how one good person can make a difference in a cruel world. 

So when he had been given the opportunity to make up some dumb name of his own, or to become Robin - it wasn’t really a choice for him. He became Robin in order to be that symbol of hope for others, and in truth - to fulfill the hope he once needed for himself. 

“Right.” Jason sighed. He did have a duty to the people of Gotham. But something else was bothering him. “But… but what about us?” 

Us. 

He said it so fondly, like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to think of you and him as a pair. 

It was the first time either of you had truly acknowledged it. Finally acknowledging the way your dynamic had changed since that night. Otherwise, it had been absolutely unspoken. 

“What about us?” You echoed back, your voice trembling quiet.

You were truly afraid to hear his answer. 

‘Say it.’ You wanted to scream at him. ‘Say the words. Stop making me think that all of this has been just big one big hallucination on my part. Say it, asshole. Say it and I’m yours for the rest of your life.’ 

“Come on.” He sighed, flickering off towards the wall and refusing to look at you now, the words grating against his throat. 

‘Are you really gonna make me say it?’ He wanted to scream. ‘How much I fucking love you? How I can’t leave here now because I can’t leave you? How I would quit being Robin if it meant getting to be with you?’ 

The air trembled with the might of all those unspoken words as Jason gathered a better, more guarded reply. 

“The Tower was supposed to be a stop-over. At first.” He shrugged, still distinctly refusing to look at you. “But then… we… happened.” 

He explained it clumsily, clearly stuck for words in that entirely emotionally constipated way, motioning vaguely between the two of you. Once again, he was refusing to acknowledge the thing going on between the two of you. He was refusing to put those exact, big, serious words on it. Afraid that the weight of it all would knock him over, swallow him whole if he wasn’t careful. 

But his lack of words bothered you so damn much. 

Was it a casual relationship? Was it sex? Was it love? Was it the two of you finding your life-long soulmates and being too traumatized and stubborn and stupid to actually acknowledge it? 

You hummed in agreement of this, nodding. 

“You shouldn’t stay just for me, though.” You told him. 

His duties as Robin were important. Mending his relationship with Bruce was important. Far more important than having sex with you and training for whatever vague threat Dick had in mind (especially when Dick couldn’t stand up and protect Jason from very real threats, like Deathstroke). 

Jason’s face cracked with a flutter of disappointment and sadness, a rattle of emotions coming through that he usually wouldn’t show around anybody else. He thought that you were breaking things off with him - whatever things were. But that wasn’t the case. 

“I might have to leave soon anyway.” You added on, trying to clarify your point. 

“You’re leaving?” He asked, sounding entirely hurt by this, the words acting as a bitter accusation coming off his lips. 

He held in the other thing he wanted to say. 

‘Where else would you have to go?’ 

He was trying to be more thoughtful with his words these days - and he knew this sounded far too much like a dig, mocking at the circumstances of your past. A past which you had divulged to him in bits and pieces while laying in bed with him after a healthy fuck, much like this. 

When he had found out how similar the two of you were, he found his soul more and more drawn to yours. Your mother had been a deadbeat, much like his. Apparently she came from some richie rich family that you had only met a few times, when you were so young that you could only piece together a few memories from it, but she left behind all of it to be with her deadbeat boyfriend - someone who may or may not have been your father. Someone who got your mother hooked on drugs and petty crime to pay for the habit when your rich grandmother cut her off from the family money, knowing the kind of life she was living. 

You grew up a lot like Jason did. 

You saw your mother faded, abused, you had been forced to mature up and take care of yourself and even take care of your own mother when you had been far too young to do so. You had lived in slums. At many points in your life, you had been homeless. 

You never had a real father to speak of, and when your mother overdosed, you were left abandoned when you were still a young teen. But you took care of yourself well enough, especially considering that you had an advantage that Jason didn’t - icy powers from a freak accident that happened around the time you were born that should have killed you. 

It was only by luck that you ran into Dick and Kory when they came into the diner that you had been waiting tables at, whispering harshly under their breath about a young girl with severe, mysterious powers that they had lost track of. And you had pointed them toward the old Caulder house on the edge of town and offered to go with them - because you knew Niles Caulder from a time when he had offered to ‘help’ you with your own powers and you had gotten a bad feeling about the man. 

Jason called it luck because it was that incident that led you on the path to meeting him. 

“I’m only going for a little while.” You told him. “My grandmother - the one I’ve only seen like? Twice? Apparently she hired a P. I. to track down my mom. Found out my mom was dead, and then eventually - she found me. She’s getting sentimental because she has brain cancer or something? I didn’t read everything in the letter.”

You shrugged, spotty on the information and unsure if the trip you had planned was even a good idea in the first place. 

Jason easily understood why you were jaded when it came to the concept of ‘family’. You had been abandoned by them and left alone in the world. You had raised yourself, essentially. Why would you need them now? 

“She wants me to come and see her - something about deathbed remorse and blah, blah. I don’t know. I wasn’t gonna go, but Dick thinks I should, because she’s like the only living family I have that I know about.” You finished the explanation with a sigh, and Jason frowned. 

Of course Dickhead was being righteous about his moral code. 

Jason wanted to convince you to stay, but - maybe Dick had a point. Maybe, if you had a shot at having a relationship with your ‘real’ family - maybe you should take it. 

“Do you want me to go with you?” Jason had no clue why it was his first instinct to offer this. But it felt right. It felt instinctive to attempt to comfort you these days, rather than combating you or coming up with some annoying, clever comeback. 

You should have said yes. 

It would have been fun at the very least; an amusing trainwreck, perhaps. You could only imagine what it would be like - bringing your mouthy situationship along with you to visit your rich, uptight, estranged grandmother. Even just explaining the nature of your relationship with Jason to her would have been a wild and fun ride. 

But instead, you let your guarded instincts get the better of you. 

“No.” You sighed. “I - I can handle it myself.” 

You sounded a lot less sure in your reply, but you made yourself sure as you continued. 

“If she gets too whiny, or too… sentimental, I’ll bail. I know that Dick or Kory would come and get me if I asked them to. And I am very good at running from situations that don’t benefit me.” You tried to laugh it off, though this did evoke some painful memories of your past, when you had to run from things that very well could have ended your life - or worse. 

“You also have a habit of running toward situations that don’t benefit you.” Jason sighed, not letting you easily forget the fact that you ran into a gun-hot hostage situation and dangled yourself off a building to rescue him. 

You lightly smacked his shoulder in response, and he quietly grunted at this, rolling his eyes. 

“I can handle myself. Dickhead.” You replied, much less bite behind the words than there would have been before. “Besides, you have to go to Gotham and deal with your own sentimental old bag.” 

“The last word I would ever use to describe Bruce is ‘sentimental’.” Jason argued gently. 

“He keeps a trophy room full of stuff from every criminal he’s ever taken down,” You reminded Jason. “It’s his own form of weird, fucked-up sentiment.” 

Jason shrugged.

You laid back down, tucking yourself into Jason’s side and laying a few simple kisses against the skin of his chest before you settled in, closing your eyes. He wrapped his arm around you, and there was only a moment of quiet before -

“What are you gonna do after you visit your grandmother?” He asked, so entirely timid. “Are you gonna come back to The Tower?” 

‘Will I ever see you again?’ He wanted to ask. ‘Is it really over between us?’ 

Jason couldn’t imagine not having you around. 

You were the tape that had held him together after everything went down with Deathstroke. When the Titans went south, ruined by Dick’s lies and the pressure of enemies from their past, you were the brick wall that had held him up. If not for you, he could have easily imagined himself drowning in booze, crashing his motorcycle off the side of a cliff in a drunken blur; or jumping off the top of this incredibly impressive building to make himself nothing but a stain on the concrete below. 

You hesitated, but worked up the courage to truly speak what was waiting on your lips, especially when you weren’t looking at his face, tracing every micro-expression for potential disappointment or glee. 

“I could come to Gotham.” You whispered, barely letting your words break into audible sound. When Jason took too long to reply, you rushed to add on something else, to make your proposal seem less serious. “I guess I could come see that stupid cave you’re always talking about.”

Jason laughed at this, and you loved the feeling of the vibrations under the side of your face. 

“Yeah.” He said. “Sounds cool. I - I think Bruce would actually like having you around.” 

You wondered if that was true, or if Jason was just amplifying his own affection for you within his mind. Either way, it was sweet. 

You ended up falling asleep for a few hours. Jason’s gentle breathing flowing through his lungs under your cheek soothed you into an easy sleep - when you woke up, you were reminded of the drying mess between your thighs and wicked soreness that had set into your muscles. You needed a hot shower, and you needed to go pack a bag. You had to tell Dick that you wanted to book the ticket to go and see your grandmother. 

Knowing him, he likely already had one booked on the principle that you would come around to his line of thinking and he would end up being right. 

You were crawling out of bed when Jason’s hand caught your wrist. 

“You sneakin’ away on me?” He mumbled out, sleepy, not yet opening his eyes. 

“I gotta go shower, dipshit.” You said, your voice gentle and chiding, no real force behind the words. 

Jason gave you a sleepy smile. 

“Come back afterwards.” He replied, clearly hoping for more cuddles - or more sex. 

“I can’t.” You told him. “I have to get ready to leave. Remember?” 

This caught his full attention, and he sat up abruptly, blinking his eyes open to catch a glimpse of you in the barely there, dim light. It was just before sunrise, the sky kissed hazy gray outside of the giant windows that lined his bedroom.

“You’re leaving so soon?” He asked, disappointment barely masked in his voice as he continued to grip your wrist. 

“Yes.” You said, knowing that you were echoing that tone right back. “So… I guess this is goodbye?” 

“Fuck you.” He replied, a harsh sigh from his lungs. He hurled the expletive at the concept of a goodbye with you. That was something he never wanted. 

He tugged on your wrist and you were reeled in like a fish, walking around the bed toward his side. You tucked your butt tightly beside one of his thighs, sitting close to him, vowing that you would get up soon as he wrapped a thick arm around your waist. 

He had the other arm across your chest, tucking his hand along your jaw and tilting your head toward him. You eased into the kiss with a small moan, enjoying the softness of his lips like a tree enjoys the sun. You soaked him up for a few long moments, and when you tried to pull back the first time, he held you there for just a bit longer. 

If you had known that was going to be the last time you kissed him, you would have savored it more. 

In a silent agreement - he finally let you go, and his eyes stayed glued to you as you got dressed enough to go down the hallway and then, you left out his bedroom door. His eyes lingered on the door for a few prolonged seconds after you did so, and then finally, he turned over again and fell back into an unpleasant sleep. One that felt fitful now that you weren’t in his bed. 

… 

Jason felt cold. 

The room he was in - some mysterious, wall-off concrete place with no light - was freezing. And it wasn’t the pleasant kind of cool like the touch of your icy skin when you crawled into bed with him late at night. Or the shocking delightful kind of cold like when you played a prank on him, running your super-powered icy fingers up his back just to get a rise out of him. 

No, this was a shocking, dead kind of cold. 

This was the kind of cold that would bring death after a short period of time. It was the kind of cold that easily made his fingers and toes numb, and made him struggle against his binds - and it was only then that Jason realized he was tied up. 

His arms were pinned behind his back and bound at the wrists - though he couldn’t tell with what. He couldn’t feel the texture of the binding through the thickness of his Robin uniform gloves in order to know how to best get out of it. Whether it was duct tape or rope, that would determine his next move, and he needed to make a move - fast. 

His legs were free. That was a good sign. That would definitely be useful. 

Before Jason could contemplate much more of this, a door that he hadn’t yet noticed off to his right burst open, creating a rush of light into the dull, dark room - a blinding moment where all he saw was shadows and movement. By the time his eyes had adjusted, a body was being thrown at his feet. Or rather, a very limp, fully alive person. 

Deathstroke towered over this person, wearing his full gear, the armor thick and imposing, his silhouette blocking out nearly all the light that had just been let into the room. 

Jason’s eyes flickered from him, to the person on the floor - purposefully stiffening his jaw in his best attempt not to show any fear. 

His throat became dry and he held back a whimper of fright when he saw that the limp body on the floor was you. 

Your hands were bound behind your back, too, and you were forced silent with a cloth gag in your mouth, tied tightly behind your head. But your eyes truly captured Jason’s attention the most. Beyond the scrapes and bruises that littered your cheeks, signs of pain that already made him ravenous with rage, more than eager to rip apart whatever was holding him back in order to tear Deathstroke to pieces just for daring to touch you - your eyes were full of pure terror. 

Jason had never seen you like this before. 

Right from the moment he had met you, you had been nothing but confident - a palace of strength, calm, cleverness that he wanted so badly to topple. It was why he flirted with you, argued with you. He wanted so badly to get under your skin, to see you rattled. It was only when the two of you had sex that he finally saw some wavering in that, finally saw you falling apart. 

And eventually, it pushed away to something deeper, something softer - something that caused him to fall in love with you. 

But he had never seen you afraid. That fear in your eyes, you silently screaming at him for help - it put his stomach in knots within seconds. 

“It’s okay,” Jason rushed to assure you. He would get you out of this. “It’s gonna be okay, Y/N, I swear-” 

Deathstroke let out a chuckle - one that sounded muffled, cold, robotic behind his mask. 

“I can’t tell if you’re truly lying, following in the careless footsteps of your leader, or if you think that placating is the way to soothe someone in crisis.” He said, his tone entirely mocking. “There is no room for soothing here. Things most certainly will not be okay. Not unless you give me what I ask for,” 

“What the fuck do you want, asshole?” Jason spit back bitterly, posturing, trying his best to seem big and strong when he felt so utterly weak, so small in those moments. 

“Dick Grayson.” Deathstroke announced. “Tell me where he is, and I’ll let your little friend go.” 

Jason hesitated. 

When Deathstroke felt this, he continued. 

“And if you don’t, I won’t hesitate to dispose of this pathetic excuse for a Titan.” He added on, giving you a harsh kick in the back with his heavy boot. You cried out in pain, and Jason’s insides jolted. 

It was a move that made Jason want to scream, and make threats that he knew he couldn’t live up to. 

He deeply feared what Deathstroke meant when he said ‘dispose of’. 

“Is Grayson really that important to you?” 

Jason began to panic, his eyes flickering from Deathstroke’s imposing shadow to your terrified face once again. 

His brain felt scrambled. He searched, thought hard, concentrated, and somehow - came up empty. For some stupid reason, he had no clue where Dick was. The Tower, Gotham, Detroit - the fucking idiot could be anywhere. And something else nagged in the back of Jason’s mind - even if he did know where Dick was, why the fuck should he tell this asshole? Deathstroke only wanted to kill Dick. Why should it be Jason’s choice to trade one life for another? 

And even if he did tell Deathstroke where Dick was, there was no promise that Deathstroke wouldn’t kill you anyway as soon as he had the information. 

No - Jason could save you some other way. 

There had to be another way, some other way to get out of this, something else-

“Tick tock.” Deathstroke said, rushing Jason’s answer. 

“Fuck you!” Jason barked back instinctively, still panicked. 

And it was that panic that cost him everything. 

“Well…” Deathstroke hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose they truly didn’t teach Junior Robin anything, did they?” 

In seconds, he could sense it - Deathstroke could see right through Jason. He knew that Jason didn’t know the answers to his questions. And even if he did - he wasn’t going to give up Dick. He had a strange sense of loyalty to the person who had shit on him and failed to help him time and time again. 

Before Jason could come up with whatever magical solution he was hoping would come to him, Deathstroke reached down, fisted the shoulder of your shirt, and brought you up onto your knees with a surprising strength. You continued to look Jason in the eyes with an intense panic while the man reached for his belt, unsheathing a sword that glinted in the little bit of light. 

When you heard the sound of the metal slicing through the air, your muscles quaked with fear and you tried to get away - but you were too weak against him. 

It was too late. 

“No, no!” Jason cried out in protest, having nothing else to do but watch on in horror and hope that his pitiful cries could somehow stop this, tearing harshly against the bonds holding his wrists in place. “No, fuck you! Stop it!” 

It happened too quickly. 

The sword appeared through the front of your stomach, coated in bright red blood, and you let out a scream of anguish through the gag. Then suddenly, you were being shucked off the blade, thrown away like you were nothing, tossed back to the floor in a puddle of your own blood, limp and near lifeless. Deathstroke turned and left the room without a single care, shutting the door behind him, shutting out all of the light, leaving Jason in cold darkness once again. 

And it was only then that the ropes on his wrists somehow loosened, allowing him to break free and rush to your bleeding body - too late. 

Too fucking late. 

Jason grabbed you up in his arms, hoisting you onto his lap. He was empty with shock. He didn’t know how to feel. He hated the contrast of your cold flesh and the heat of the blood rushing out of you and quickly covering him. 

“Y/N, Y/N, baby, look at me,” 

He found himself sobbing, forcefully turning your face toward him with a gloved hand, tearing the gag out of your mouth - your lips scarily pale, more than they ever should be. 

“Fuck, fuck!” 

He couldn’t contain his screams of anguish when he pressed a cheek closer to your lips and felt the shallow nature of your breath. 

You were dying, and it was all his fault. You were dying, and it was all his fault. You were dying, and- 

Jason awoke in a cold sweat. 

He was shaking, frantically looking around in the dark, soon to realize that he wasn’t locked in a concrete room with your bloody corpse - he was in his bedroom in Gotham. He was at home in the comfortable, cushy Wayne Manor. 

He had been having far too many nightmares since returning to Gotham. He wanted to blame it on your lack of presence in his bed, or the fact that Bruce had practically banned him from training, now that he was benched from being Robin. So he wasn’t getting nearly as much physical exercise as he used to and it left him anxious and not nearly as physically exhausted when he went to bed, making his sleep uneasy. 

Bruce had suggested sleeping pills, but Jason hated the idea of the side effects. The potential of hallucinations didn’t seem like it would make his sleep any more pleasant. 

Jason sat up on the edge of his bed, and turned on the lamp, wincing as the bright light prodded at his eyes, aggravating a headache he had that wouldn’t quit for days now. He reached for his phone, and almost unconsciously, brought up your contact. 

He laughed when he saw the contact name you had given yourself - clearly something you had done as a joke right before you had left the Tower. 

Bootycall Temporarily Unavailable

The two of you often changed each other’s names in your contacts as a joke. He guessed that this one was a joke about how you would be gone for a while, unable to fuck him. But he hated that you insisted that he still thought of you only as a Bootycall. He decided to change it to ‘Robin’s Ice Machine’ - one of his favourites, and what he kept you listed as in his contacts most often. (Even though he wasn’t sure if he was actually considered Robin anymore…) 

He opened up his last text messages with you, and couldn’t help but smile when he re-read them. 

He had sent you a simple ‘u up?’ around three o’clock in the morning, being sleepless and horny, and you had replied ‘don’t come in here with that fuckboy attitude unless you’re bringing snacks’. 

And this had led to the two of you having the most amazing sex and eating junkfood afterwards. That was what he missed most about you. Simple nights. The ability to just be calm with you. Doing nothing with you and feeling so complete. 

Jason began typing out a message. 

‘I miss you. I can’t stop thinking about you. I-’ 

Then, he realized how terribly sappy and stupid it sounded. And he thought about how much you would hate it. And even if you didn’t hate it, surely you would have no clue how to respond. The two of you weren’t like that. You weren’t those kind of people. He heaved a sigh, deleted the message, and then he got out of bed. He changed into some jogging pants and a sweatshirt and put on some running shoes. 

If Bruce was going to ban him from being Robin, the least he could do was go on a run to get his head straight. 

While he jogged through the cold night, Jason tried to convince himself that he didn’t need you. Tried to tell himself that if you decided not to come to Gotham after all, he would be just fine. 

When he was finished with his run, standing at the kitchen counter chugging some way-too-expensive vitamin water that Bruce liked to buy, he pulled out his phone again and pulled up your contact. He considered calling you, and wondered what you were doing right then. He wondered if you would answer. He looked up what time it was in San Francisco, remembered you weren’t there, and then considered texting Gar to ask where you actually were - and then he went and took a long shower so he wouldn’t be able to touch his phone at all for a while. 

… 

When Jason went back to Gotham, Bruce made him go to therapy. 

Jason thought that the entire thing was a colossal waste of time, but Bruce insisted that if he was ever going to wear the Robin mask again - he was going to get ‘cleared’ first. 

Apparently, something about being kidnapped by a murderous psychopath, dropped off a building, and going to a funeral all in the span of a month doesn’t really scream of stability. 

Jason was weary of Leslie at first. 

He genuinely thought that her only job was to dig around for his secrets - any signs of his weakness, and report them back to Bruce. He still wasn’t all too trusting when she tried to assure him that whatever she said would stay between the two of them. But he wanted to get back to being Robin. He wanted to get back to doing his job. And if getting all mushy with her was the fastest way of doing that, then he would. 

… 

They were playing the stupid word association game again. 

“Mother.” Leslie said, posing the first word. 

“Fucker.” Jason said upon instinct, doing what he did best - deflecting from being too vulnerable by using crude humor. 

Leslie gave him a deep frown, and he actually felt a pang of guilt at disappointing her. 

She was one of the only adults in his life that he had ever felt bad for disappointing. Not because she put too many expectations on him - but because she didn’t. Because she expected pretty much nothing of him, and he wanted to show her that he could be great. He wanted to defy whatever bullshit Bruce had told her about him. He wanted to show her that he was more than worthy of being Robin again. 

“Sorry.” He said timidly. “Habit.” 

“It’s okay.” She said, forgiving him too easily. Jason wasn’t used to being forgiven. 

Jason appreciated it - nobody had ever given him the chance to ‘try again’. Not even you. But he was glad about that. When you mocked him for his mistakes or called him out on his bullshit, it made him want to try harder. You were the only person in the world that he found himself actively trying for. Everyone else - he didn’t give a fuck what they thought of him. He knew that they always had preconceived notions of what he was - a screw-up, a street kid pretending while waltzing around in Robin’s costume. 

But when you looked at him, you saw an asshole trying to be clever and you tore right through that persona, looking for something real. So even though he hated it - even though it made him wiggle and gape like a fish on land - he showed you more and more real parts of himself. And he couldn’t deny how good it made him feel when he was with you. 

So, practicing the honesty that you had forced him to find within himself, Jason tried a more honest approach to Leslie’s word game. 

“We can try again.” Leslie said, taking a small breath. “Mother.” 

“Gone.” He said, announcing the first thing that truly came to mind when he thought of that word. 

“Father.” Leslie moved on to the next word. 

“Bruce.” Jason felt far too naked and vulnerable when saying this, but it was true.

Bruce was the closest thing to a father that he ever had. 

And Jason knew that he was a bad son, constantly disappointing him - constantly failing to live up to the giant shadow that Dick had left behind. 

“Robin.” She said. 

“Freedom.” He easily responded. 

“San Francisco.” 

Jason felt like she was cheating at this point - trying to get him to weep and cry and spill all of his secrets like some kind of soap opera. He felt like she was purposefully pitching hits at his weak spots and waiting for him to block or be taken down. 

“Mistake.” He said, trying his hardest not to flex back on his honesty. 

He wasn’t even sure what he meant by that. If going there had been a mistake, or if he had made too many mistakes while he was there. Either way, it felt like the truth. 

“Safe.” She announced the next word, and Jason was not at all surprised by the first thing that came to mind. 

“Y/N.” He said your name without hesitation. 

You were the only safe thing in his life. The only thing - the only person that ever truly made him feel safe. Sometimes he was terrified of losing you, or hurting you, or poisoning you as badly as he had done with so many other people. But when he was in your arms, it was so easy to forget about all of that. 

You were safe. 

Which was a fucking rare commodity in his life. 

Leslie saw the look that came across his features - the look of fond longing mixed with gut wrenching fear. Naturally, she wanted to dig more into this. She knew that someone like Jason hadn’t grown up feeling safe, and she was curious why the concept of safety came to him now as a person’s name - and why he seemed so conflicted about it, about someone he had never even mentioned before. 

“Who is Y/N?” Leslie asked. Jason didn’t immediately answer, so she prodded more. “Boyfriend? Girlfriend? … Friend?” 

Leslie didn’t presume to know Jason’s sexuality, or the gender of his special person (and she wouldn’t judge him, no matter what he said) - but beyond gender, for Jason, it was even more complicated than that.

Jason didn’t know what to call you when speaking about you to someone else. 

A friend that he sometimes fucks? Should he even call you a friend? 

You had tried to save his life, but before that, the two of you had never really been friendly. Mostly argumentative. But no matter how much the two of you argued, you had never hurt him the way that Dick had, or Bruce had. Or even the way that the other Titans had when they had accused him of all those things he hadn’t done. 

Your arguments were playful. The two of you never said anything to each other that would actually dig deep, that was ever truly meant to hurt. Nothing like when the Titans had doubted Jason’s loyalty to the team - had accused him of truly trying to harm them. Your arguments with him always held a certain kind of passion. Every time you fired back against dumb shit that he said, even if you were blatantly disagreeing with him for sport - it meant that you cared. 

Jason shrugged. “Kind of.” 

“Can you… explain more?” Leslie asked, careful and curious. 

“Shit’s complicated.” Jason mumbled, truly unsure what to say in order to describe the situation. 

“Okay, well… whoever this special person is, whatever they mean to you… why is it that they make you feel safe?” 

Now that was a million dollar question. 

Jason had never really asked himself that before. The ‘why’. 

“Well…” 

He began trying to explain it, and found himself stuck for words. But Leslie was patient, and waited for him to find the right ones. 

“It’s like…” Jason sighed, finding the whole thing very difficult. “It’s like Y/N knows what I am.” 

“‘What you are’?” Leslie parroted back, using his own phrasing carefully. “And what would that be?” 

“An asshole. Ya know - a fuck-up.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Y/N has seen it first hand. They know me - they - they’ve seen all the worst parts of me, and… somehow, they don’t care. Y/N saw me at my worst and didn’t run.” 

It was the best way that Jason could think to describe it. Everyone else who had seen him beaten down and broken - Dick, Bruce, the other Titans - they all saw him at his worst and wanted to dump him at the first possible opportunity. But you held onto him tighter and refused to let go. Even when he struggled in your loving hold like an animal caught in a trap - you still held onto him tighter than anyone else ever had. 

And it made him feel a little less broken each time that he was with you. 

“Okay.” Leslie smiled. “So - you find safety in not being judged? In… being allowed to be messy?” 

“Yeah.” Jason nodded. 

“Well, that’s perfectly normal.” She told him. 

Jason found an odd sense of relief in this. There wasn’t a lot that was normal in his life. 

“A lot of great relationships - whether they are friendships, or something more-” 

Jason resisted the urge to speak up and say that you and him were definitely in the ‘something more’ category, but he didn’t want to jinx it. Not when it was yet to be official. 

“-are founded on the truth. Founded on two people coming together because they find safety in being allowed to be their most authentic self with the other person. Feeling that they can make mistakes without being judged.” She explained this to him gently, and Jason couldn’t stop thinking about you. “So if you have that with someone, you should embrace it. Embrace that feeling of safety.” 

Jason definitely had that with you. Or - he had the start of that with you. And he wanted so badly to embrace. To see where a life with you would go. Maybe it was something he wanted even more badly than becoming Robin again. 

Ultimately, Jason knew that he wanted to be loved, even at his worst. But he thought that even you weren’t capable of that. Nobody was. 

“Next word.” Leslie looked back down at her list. “Fear.” 

Jason didn’t take long with that one either. 

“Y/N.” 

Leslie looked utterly confused at this one. 

But - he was too raw, and he ended the session before she could prod him to explain it further. 

… 

Jason was afraid that he wasn’t good enough for you.

He was afraid that if the time ever came, if you were ever in danger - he wasn’t going to be able to save you like you had tried to do for him. Thinking back on it, he had no clue how you had so boldly stepped into the line of fire, how you had dangled yourself out of a window that many stories high, desperately holding onto him. 

You acted fearless, put yourself on the line just to save his life - ultimately, one that wasn’t worth saving. 

And if he couldn’t do the same for you, then he wasn’t worth the risks you had taken for him at all. 

It was this mindset that brought him to visiting Crane in prison. He worked hard to reverse manufacture the Fear Gas, wanting to be brave for you - not knowing that it would ultimately be his downfall. 

… 

Going to your grandmother’s house was certainly… interesting. 

She was rich. Old money rich. 

It was the type of wealth you had encountered very sparsely in your life. Initially, you had only met that type of rich person for the first time when you had met Dick - someone who drove a vintage Ashton Martin and said it was a ‘family heirloom’, yet thought nothing of trading it in for a minivan on a whim. 

When you first moved into the Tower - a million dollar condo with advanced tech that you could barely comprehend at first, you didn’t easily feel comfortable among all of the shiny, lavish, modern furniture and the fancy touchscreens just to access everyday necessities. At the time, you had still been sporting an illegally jailbroken iPhone 6 that you had pickpocketed off some random guy a few years prior, and soon as Dick found out about that fact, he insisted on buying you a new phone that you had a very difficult time accepting because you were not at all good with gifts or ‘being spoiled’. You felt awkward accepting something that you hadn’t worked for. 

It was one of the reasons that you so easily crumbled to Jason’s sexual advances. 

You felt so fucking alone when you first started living in the Tower. Your queen sized bed with a brand new mattress and brand new sheets felt too big. Being so new, it felt too cold. Sometimes you went stir-crazy, thinking about how much the silverware in the kitchen cost and the fact that the fucking television had an ipad for a remote (which apparently also controlled the curtains and the lights in the living room) - fixating on how if you had pawned those things off, if could have fed so many hungry children. 

At the time, you were desperate for a distraction. Jason became a very easy one to fall into. It was all too easy to fall asleep in his bed afterwards, because even if you hated the smell of Axe body wash and drying cum, sleeping beside someone, having a warm body at your back - it eased you so much more than sleeping in a big luxurious bed by yourself.

Your grandmother’s house was a different type of rich than the Tower was. Most definitely not modern; everything in her house was about as old as things can get - but still rich. It seemed that she was blatantly against technology, in fact. She didn’t seem to have a TV anywhere in the place, and all the phones were corded into the walls like it was the 80s, and she often mocked you for being so ‘obsessed’ with that ‘brick’ in your pocket (checking, looking for Jason’s calls or texts). 

All of the furniture was far older than you, and well taken care of. Polished, the fabric clearly patched or reupholstered by professionals in places where it had worn down over time. She was the nick-nack type. Tall china cabinets full of fancy dishes with patterns on them, and the moment she caught you looking at them, she went on long winding stories about how the pieces were rare antiques that had been owned by some Duke from some place in Europe - again, something more expensive than you could comprehend or even really care about.

Like it had said in the letter, your grandmother had brain cancer. 

She had a large tumor that was eventually going to kill her. Apparently money can buy a lot of things - but it can’t buy a miracle treatment. The tumor had invaded too much of her brain before it had been discovered, and operating on it at her age was more likely to mean death than recovery. And as she so gracefully put it, she would rather spend her last days ‘in grace and dignity’ than to be balding and ‘out of her mind’ - so she didn’t accept the only potentially helpful chemo treatment that was offered to her. 

Apparently, one of her last wishes was to meet and spend time with the grandchild that she had ‘lost’ when your mother took you away all those years ago. Your grandmother seemed nice enough - she peppered you with cheek kisses and invited you to tea the moment that you came in through the door. She had even sent a limo to pick you up at the airport, which made you feel far too important and awkward, sitting alone in the back of the expensive vehicle with a classical music station playing that you felt too intimidated to attempt to change.

And although your paranoid instincts were waiting for some horror movie reveal, waiting for someone to drug you and tell you that she was going to perform some voodoo ritual on you in order to use your young, healthy body to keep living her life and that’s all she wanted you for - you stuck around. Because the longer you waited with baited breath, the less that seemed to be the case. 

If the old woman wanted to spend her last weeks of life telling you winding stories about old dishes from Europe and drinking tea with you on her porch, then you would consider it a much needed vacation. You would simply sit down and listen. 

… 

“And you know, her granddaughter, she was a - a handmaiden for the Duchess of Yorke, and…” 

When you looked over at your grandmother, she had fallen asleep mid-sentence, holding her tea cup at an odd angle that made the small amount of tea inside almost dribble out. Though she had been talking just a moment before, telling a long, winding story about the history of the vase holding the flowers in the middle of the table - she let out a deep snore, and you worried that she was going to drop her cup or spill tea in her lap. 

Strangely, after such a short period of time being around her, you found yourself caring for the woman. 

You put down your own cup and crept over to her, trying not to wake her, and gently wriggled the cup out of her hands to place it down on the table. 

You nearly jumped out of your skin when your phone buzzed in your back pocket. When you realized what the sudden, frightening feeling was, you took a deep breath and calmed down. Your grandmother had asked you to turn it off and leave it in your room, a luxurious guest room that she had you staying in, but you couldn’t help yourself. You missed Jason and you were eagerly waiting to talk to him. You didn’t want to miss a potential call or text from him. 

You made sure that your grandmother was sleeping peacefully (in the oddly upright position as it was) before you took out your phone and sat back in your own chair, looking to see who had texted you. 

New message from The Flightless Bird

Yes, Jason had a very strange contact name in your phone. For a while, you had kept it as Hot Guy, as it had originally entered it, before changing it to (Not) Hot Guy as a joke. Then, when the two of you started living at the Tower, it became a running gag for you to steal each other’s phones whenever possible and change the contact name to something strange and odd, usually paired with a memey photo to jokingly represent the other person. 

After the incident where he had free fallen from the building to his near death, he had changed his contact name in your phone to ‘The Flightless Bird’ - a terrible bit of dark humor. You loved it, and you had kept it since then. 

Right before you had left for your flight out, you had snuck into his room and grabbed his phone while he had been sleeping, and changed your contact name in his phone from ‘Cold Hands, Hot Ass’ to ‘Bootycall Temporarily Unavailable’. Mostly because you didn’t need him sending you dickpics at three in the morning when he got bored. As much as you loved his cock, you thought about how weird it would be trying to get off in your grandmother’s house and Jason was so damn persistent and so damn tempting. 

You did have to wonder what PG-13 texting would be like between the two of you. It had been incredibly rare. All of your text conversations before living together at the Tower were R-rated enough to send anybody who read them into a mental meltdown. 

Before you could wonder if you should send him a message, making it clear that he wasn’t to pull any of his typical fuckboy antics, you opened his latest message, and a large smile ripped across your face. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘I miss you like hell.’ 

You hated that you grinned uncontrollably and your stomach flipped like a teenager with a stupid crush, but you couldn’t help it. Jason just made you feel like that these days. Even just knowing that he had been missing you too - that he had been thinking about you. That was something that had you floating as you typed out your reply, trying not to seem too desperate in your response. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Gotham must be really boring if you miss hanging out with me.’ 

You sent back the simple message and opened another app, browsing while you waited for his reply, trying not to seem too eager. 

Moments later, your phone buzzed again. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Gotham is Gotham. It’s always been a boring shithole. The only time it’s not boring is when some fucker in a mask is trying to kill everyone.’ 

So very Jason. Before you could reply, he sent another message. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Plus, it’s not just hanging out with you that I miss. ;)’ 

Leave it to him to make even a virtual wink look so incredibly sleazy. Somehow, it brought up fond feelings within you because you had missed him so much. 

You resisted the urge to tell him to cool it. Especially because your grandmother was sitting at the table with you. But you didn’t want him to get the wrong idea and start sending his cock out of nowhere. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Oh, you make it sound so appealing for me to visit.’ 

Then you quickly added on: 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Dealing with homicidal psychos in costumes and you nagging me for a dick appointment. You on the Gotham tourism board?’ 

It was only a moment before your messages were seen, and you could practically hear Jason’s dry laughter in response, even though he was so far away. You felt validated when he sent you back several laughter emojis and then quickly typed out another message. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘I am, actually. First stop on the tour - my bed. Second stop - night patrol. We spend a few hours kicking ass together. Which leads into our third stop - Little Tony’s downtown for some pizza. Aka the only reason I keep coming back to this shithole.’ 

You couldn’t help but to grin at the thought of it. You resisted the urge to hide your face in your hands, almost embarrassed at just how cheek-splitting your smile was - waiting for someone to call you out on it. 

Your imagination ran away with you, and you couldn’t help but to feel warm, thinking about yourself living out his ideal day in Gotham. Being warm in his arms again, feeling his touch all over your body. Getting thoroughly fucked and only leaving his bed when the call of those in need beckoned you both to action. 

You soon began picturing yourself in some spandex costume - something you didn’t yet have and made fun of Jason for wearing so often, perhaps slightly out of jealousy because he actually got the importance of a title and a suit and you didn’t yet have either. You imagined yourself in something themed around a hero name with an ice pun to suit your powers, kicking ass beside Jason while he proudly carried the mantle of Robin. The two of you taking down criminals like a perfectly paired team and topping off your night with pizza from a familiar place that Jason praised.

You began typing again. 

… Robin’s Ice Machine is typing …. 

‘You wanna make it a date, Jay?’ 

But you feared that it would sound too forward. That he was simply joking about all of it and you would seem too eager. So you deleted that message before you sent it and typed out something else instead. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘You brave the streets of downtown Gotham just for pizza?’

The Flightless Bird: ‘It’s worth it.’ 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘I guess they probably give Robin the hero discount.’ 

You typed out the message and sent it without thinking. 

You had been so absorbed in your own world over the past few weeks that you had no clue that Robin hadn’t been active on the streets of Gotham for a while. You hadn’t checked the news or hadn’t thought to check in with the biggest Robin fan you knew (Gar) to ask for updates. 

But ever since Jason had gotten back to Gotham - Robin hadn’t seen a night of patrol, his costume quarantined away in the Batcave like Bruce considered him some kind of disease. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘I wouldn’t know.’ 

You found this reply to be confusing, but waited patiently while Jason typed out more. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Bruce has me benched. He said I’m not allowed to take on Robin again until I get “cleared” by a fucking shrink. Like I’m a fucking war vet or something. He’s acting like I jumped off that building on purpose or some shit.’ 

You wanted to remind him that in a sense, he did. That he had begged you to let him go because he hadn’t thought that he was worth saving. But you didn’t want to rub salt into the wounds. Instead, you felt curious about his words and hoped that he wouldn’t clam up if you went prodding. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Bruce has you seeing a shrink?’

You were more than tense with curiosity at this point. More than anything, you wondered if it was actually helping Jason, or if he was just going through the motions, trying to please Bruce. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Yeah. Someone named Leslie. Wants me to talk about my feelings and be vulnerable and all that type of bullshit.’ 

For once, this was something that Bruce had done that actually gave you hope for Jason’s future. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Maybe it’s not a bad idea.’ 

… The Flightless Bird is typing … 

The typing bubbles appeared at the top of the screen a few times and then disappeared, indicating that Jason had read your message and was unsure about what to say in reply. Your stomach twisted up and you hated it. You hated to think that you might have insulted him. 

Finally, after a few long moments, he sent something back. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Do you think I’m crazy?’ 

There it was. He was terrified that you thought he was broken. That because he had to go to therapy - it meant he was weak. That’s probably what Bruce thought. Or why he feared that he had been benched from being Robin. 

You carefully chose your words as you replied. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘I don’t know.’ 

You easily sent in a single message, and he read it quickly. And then, you moved on to adding more, clarifying your words. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘I don’t know if you’re crazy or not, and I don’t care.’ 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘I know that you’re kind of fucked up - but so am I. And I don’t want to spend my time around anyone else because your kind of fucked up matches my fucked up really perfectly, and nobody else understands me like you do.’ 

You sent the messages, and then thought of something important to add. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘There is no normal well adjusted person in the world who would understand me like you do. Fuck normal people.’ 

(On the other end, Jason grinned and sighed with relief when he read these messages.) 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Yeah. Fuck normal people.’ 

Jason easily echoed back the sentiment, and then he said something that you weren’t entirely expecting. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘This therapy bullshit has got me thinking about a lot of things.’

You resisted the urge to make a ‘don’t hurt yourself’ joke - but you knew that he was sensitive, and you should encourage him to open up rather than make jokes. It was something that a version of yourself from a few months ago would have done without hesitation, but you absolutely knew that things between you and Jason had changed. Hopefully, for the better. 

While you were mulling that over in your head, Jason typed out another message.

The Flightless Bird: ‘I don’t think my place is with Bruce anymore.’ 

You were curious what he meant by this. Did he want to quit being Robin? Had he come to realize that everything Dick said about Bruce was actually true? 

When that argument came up, multiple times, you were never sure whose side to choose. You had never known the man personally, but you did find it strange that Jason seemed to idolize him and Dick seemed to resent him like he was some kind of cartoon villain. If anything, it made you wary and cautious of Bruce. 

Especially because you knew that Jason had been intensely dependent on Bruce when they first met - he had just aged out of foster care, and he had the ‘choice’ of being homeless or becoming Robin. And who would really make that choice when three square a day, a giant mansion, and a shining costume are staring you in the face? Especially after everything else Jason had been through - all the adults who had given up on him, told him he was nothing. Then he was being presented with the chance to truly be something, someone so damn important.

Again, before you could question him, Jason saw that you had read the message and moved to explain himself further. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘When I was at the Tower, I thought that being away from him…’ 

The Flightless Bird: ‘I thought that not being Robin was a punishment. But now I know that it was really good for me. And not for the reasons he thinks - not because I was benched and focusing on training.’ 

The Flightless Bird: ‘I got to be away from Bruce. I got some distance from the way he made me think about myself - about Robin. I used to think that I was nothing without him. That I was just some bullshit street kid nobody and him picking me up and making me Robin was what MADE me something.’ 

Your heart ached reading this. 

So that was why he idolized Bruce so much. He thought that he would be nothing without the old man. He didn’t see all of his own strength and determination that he put into Robin. He didn’t see all of his own bravery and resolute stubbornness.

The Flightless Bird: ‘Now I realize that I can be something without him.’

The Flightless Bird: ‘I know it sounds like sappy bullshit, but you’re the one who helped me realize that I am something without him. That I can be great - even without Robin.’ 

You re-read the message a few times over, those words clutching at your throat, nearly bringing you to tears. For a long time, a part of you thought that you weren’t good for Jason. That you were just another nagging force in his life, another negativity. Then - you thought that you were just something he used to fill the time, to distract from the mental noise, as you did with him. And even then, as you realized that you needed him in other ways, and you might be coming to love him - you thought that he would never feel the same about you. 

You thought that you had been fighting a losing battle, trying to comfort someone who didn’t want it, or wouldn’t accept it. But reading those words, feeling the rawness of their honesty - it flowed through you and hit you with a radical force. 

You actually helped him. 

You thought he was too stubborn and hard-headed to get through to, but hearing it directly from him - that was nice. It was more than nice, it was… it shook you to your core. 

Your phone vibrated in your hand again, and you realized that you had gone too long without responding. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Too much?’ 

Clearly he thought that he had frightened you off. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Not too much.’

The Flightless Bird: ‘Good. So you won’t think it’s too much if I tell you that I’ve been looking at apartments?’ 

Wait - what? 

You had barely finished reading the message before he sent you a screenshot of an online listing - a picture of some shady, broken-down building. When you glanced at the address, you were almost sure that it was in downtown Gotham.

You wanted to believe that Jason was joking. But from the general tone of the conversation, he didn’t seem to be. He was eager to get away from Bruce, to be out on his own. 

Your stomach curled with warmth at the thought of you and Jason living together, and this time not because of some half-baked superhero team. But by choice. This time because you were… what? Friends? Lovers?

You armed yourself with humor as you replied. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Jason, that’s downtown Gotham. It’s a shithole.’ 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Oh, living with rich grandmama has you getting used to the fancy pants lifestyle now? Shall I start looking at mansions with 500 acres and golden swimming pools?’ 

You let out a small chuckle at his joke. You could practically hear him reciting the words with a fake snooty accent to drive home his point, but you eagerly felt the need to correct him. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Hey, I grew up in shitholes too. You know a lot of the time I didn’t even have a roof, Jay.’ 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Yes, and you slept on a bed of bricks and ate dirt for dinner. Oliver Twist ass. You’re the only person I know who grew up more poor than I did.’ 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘The correct tense is: poorer.’ 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Yet you could afford grammar lessons? Damn.’ 

You couldn’t hold back a small bit of laughter at this. One of the things he hated most was you correcting his grammar, and you still found it highly amusing.

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘My point is that all this fancy shit makes me uncomfortable. I feel like I can’t even sit down on the furniture at my grandmother’s properly.’ 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Grandmama will probably have it steam cleaned when you leave. To get the street rat smell out.’ 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Anyway, do you like the apartment or not?’ 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘I don’t know. It looks… sketchy.’ 

The Flightless Bird: ‘It is. It’s a sketchy ass neighborhood.’ 

You started typing out a reply full of protests against this, wondering why he would want the two of you to live in a place that was full of drug dealers and other crime, but he beat you to it with another message - and when you read it, your heart warmed. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘But - I thought me and you could help keep it safer.’ 

You grinned widely at this again. 

You resisted the urge to correct his grammar again, wanting to tell him the tense was ‘you and I’. He was truly onto something here and you didn’t want to ruin the moment for him. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘I’ll have to see it in person first.’ 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘When I come to Gotham.’ 

You had no clue what stupid love bug had bitten you - but you were seriously agreeing to go view an apartment with Jason Todd. And you were more excited than anything else.

You finally resigned to the idea, feeling a certain kind of joy in making plans with him. You were entirely unfamiliar with the feeling of looking forward to the future. It was delightfully strange. 

For the first time in your entire life, you felt giddy and optimistic for the future. 

On the other end, Jason pumped an arm and cheered quietly to himself, knowing that he would hold you to the promise of coming to Gotham to visit him. Knowing that once he had you in town, he would somehow talk you into getting an apartment with him. 

This was just the start of your life together. In his mind, this was just the first of many plans. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘You could be on a plane tomorrow.’ 

The Flightless Bird: ‘I’ll pay for your ticket.’ 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘You mean Daddy would?’ 

You knew Jason was rolling his eyes at this, and while he rushed to type out protests about Bruce being his ‘Daddy’, you corrected his initial thought. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘I can’t come tomorrow, anyway. My trip isn’t supposed to end for another week, at least.’ 

You didn’t want to tell him that you were getting attached to your grandmother, and you didn’t want to leave her yet. You thought he might mock you for developing those vulnerable familial attachments too quickly. And he would have been right. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Well, don’t take too long. I miss your stupid face.’ 

In your mind, the only proper response to this was to open your camera and take a picture of yourself - one crudely sticking your tongue out and flipping him off.

You sent it to him and received back several heart emojis. 

The Flightless Bird: ‘Gorgeous as always, babe.’ 

Right then, Jason made that picture into his lockscreen. 

You rolled your eyes, and bit your lip to suppress another stupid giddy smile. 

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘And you’re a charming asshole, as always.’

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘But I guess you’re mine.’ 

You sent the last part without much thought, feeling a twist in your gut when Jason read it and didn’t immediately reply. You stared at the screen for several long moments, waiting for something, wondering how he would react - 

But then your attention was snapped away from your conversation with Jason when your grandmother let out a loud snort and woke from her nap. 

“Playing with that brick again?” She said, sounding quite displeased. 

Though you felt anxious, wondering if you had scared Jason away with your affection, you locked the screen and put the phone back into your pocket.

“Sometimes these ‘bricks’ can be useful.” You told her. “Maybe you should get one.” 

You suggested it on the idea that you could communicate with her more easily once your trip was over, though you knew what her stance on the matter was. It didn’t hurt to try. 

“Oh deary. I’d never want to strain my eyes looking at that. You know what they say - old dogs, and such.” She let out a small yawn. “Besides, I have heard they can give you cancer.” 

You let out a snort of laughter. At least it was nice to know where your sense of dark humor came from. 

… 

Jason wasn’t sure why he did it. 

Bruce told him not to. It should have been obvious that it was a trap. If history had anything to say about it - the Joker never made himself that obvious unless he wanted to get caught. Unless he was planning something and he wanted a lot of people to get caught up in the smoke. 

Unless the Joker blatantly wanted attention, then he stayed hidden. 

Maybe it was the Anti-Fear Gas. Maybe Jason needed to prove that he was brave. That he was good enough to take up the mantle of Robin again - even if he didn’t necessarily want it. Deep down, he needed to prove to himself that he was good enough for you. That he wasn’t just some broken bird that you needed to fix.

Jason thought the drug made him brave, but it probably just made him stupid. He thought this would be a good field test for it. But it just made his senses dull and useless to everything around him. It made him less aware of his surroundings, it blurred out all his fight or flight that nature intended. 

When Bruce said that fear served him, he had no clue that this is what the old man meant. 

The Anti-Fear Gas made perfect conditions for someone to sneak up on him. 

He heard the cackling laughter - a sound coming from one of those stupid carnival machines, or from the Joker himself, he wasn’t sure - before he even realized what was going on. There was a bag over his head and some heavy, hazy drug forced under his nose. 

He was stupid. 

He thought he learned something from the incident with Doctor Light. 

But it turns out that he was just as stupid as everyone accused him of being. 

Because when he woke up, he was right back there. Tied to a chair. Confused. And when the Anti-Fear Gas started to wear off - he was scared. Utterly terrified. Just like he had been on that night. 

Bruce was at some investors’ meeting halfway around the world. When Jason didn’t pick up his calls, didn’t answer his texts - he thought that Jason was still pissed off about the fight they had before he left. Bruce tried to give him distance. Without Alfred around to keep an eye on him, nobody reported Jason missing. 

Nobody even noticed that he was gone. 

… 

When Jason stopped answering your texts, you got a horrible feeling in your gut. 

The next time you looked at your phone, he had left you on read, and you had an utterly horrible feeling about it. Your stomach twisted over on itself, you became ripe with worry. You immediately wanted to cry to Dick about it, beg him to go searching for Jason’s tracker, or at the very least, call Bruce and ask to confirm where Jason was. 

But technically - you had nothing to cry about. 

Jason wasn’t your boyfriend. He didn’t owe you anything. Especially not his time. He didn’t owe you an immediate reply to your messages. He wasn’t supposed to be at your beckoned call like a loyal dog. 

You had to guess that he got busy training. That he was angry with Bruce, so he was spending extra hours at the gym, working off that anger. Maybe he had doubled down on the apartment search and he was somewhere in downtown Gotham, looking at more shitholes where he didn’t have any service. 

At the very worst, you thought maybe you had scared him off with your affection. You thought maybe he was finally realizing that he didn’t want that big, scary thing with you, and he was getting ready to run away from it. Maybe he was debating blocking your number so that he didn’t have to break-off this non-relationship with you. 

Maybe he had met someone else. 

You went over the possibilities - made yourself sick, wondering why he wasn’t answering you. 

But you had never considered the most sickening possibility of them all. 

… 

As usual, the Joker had seemingly no aim with his chaos. 

He took Jason to some random location. Tied him up, hit him. Some of the Joker’s goons came and went. The Joker talked about potentially setting Jason out as ‘bait’ for the Bat to come and get. Jason wanted to tell him that his precious Bat was out of town, but he couldn’t risk revealing Bruce’s identity if he divulged that information. 

If that was the Joker’s plan - using Jason as bait - he waited a long time to get on with it. 

He spent the interim torturing Jason in increasingly creative ways. 

Jason watched the sun rise and fall three different times - through a tiny window in whatever place they were keeping him. When darkness fell on the fourth day, his eyes were becoming too swollen to see light anymore. 

Jason tried not to flinch when he heard footsteps approaching. 

Every single inch of Jason’s body ached - he was sure that he had fingers broken, an arm broken. Broken ribs. He had several missing teeth, and he was leaking blood freely into his mouth. If he did get out of this, he would be severely fucked up for the rest of his life. 

But he had a feeling that the Joker wasn’t going to let him out of this. 

A cold hand moved across his forehead, and instinctively, he flinched away from it. The Joker tutted his tongue, and other voices came - echoes of laughter in the room, goons he had brought along with him. 

“So shy, Little Birdie.” The Joker’s voice mocked him. “You weren’t so shy when you came looking for me… in fact, you were eager then. Eager, eager, eager. Eager to play my games. But you don’t wanna play now, do you?”

Jason was exhausted. But he knew that he couldn’t give up. If he stopped fighting, then the Joker had won. 

“Fuck you.” Jason said, fighting past blood flowing in his mouth, deflated, clearly tired. 

But he was still fighting. 

The Joker laughed. 

Cruel. Harsh. 

“Well, I’ll take that as a sign - game on!” 

The Joker clapped his hands together above Jason’s head, loudly. Jason hated that he flinched. There was another round of laughter from the goons. 

Jason expected that the ‘game’ would be something violent. Removing his fingers, having the goons take turns to hit him harder. Perhaps they would strap him to some kind of target and make up point values for his different limbs and then have a knife throwing contest around him. 

But no. 

It seemed that they were growing bored of physical violence. 

Something that Jason hadn’t even thought of - an utterly terrifying possibility. 

With his eyes out of commission, he was relying on his ears more. He heard a small click, a button being pushed - if he wasn’t mistaken, it was someone trying to wake the lockscreen of a phone. It was very close to his head. 

“My, my, that is a pretty one.” The Joker teased. 

Jason sucked in a sharp breath, causing a painful sting in his likely broken ribs as an even more painful realization hit him. 

They had taken his phone. The Joker was talking about you. 

He should never have made that picture of you into his lockscreen, you were too important, he had put you in danger - 

“Tell me, does this pretty thing have a name?” 

The Joker chuckled - Jason thought maybe the phone with your picture was being waved in front of his face, but he couldn’t quite see it. 

“Oh wait! You can’t see it, can you?” The Joker seemed amused to remember this, his voice light and jaunty as the thought crossed his mind. 

“Fuck you!” Jason spat out, much more energized now, refreshed with the might of protecting you - quite literally spitting blood, hopefully getting some on the clown. 

The Joker simply let out another cackling laugh. 

There was a ping. A text message coming in. 

Let it be Bruce. Let it be Dick. Let it be Gar, for fuck’s sake. Anybody but you. 

“You know, this friend of yours sends an awful lot of text messages.” 

The Joker chuckled, putting emphasis on that word, clearly mocking Jason’s relationship status with you. Even with his psychotic mind, he could see that Jason loved you more than he cared to admit, and he was terrified to speak it aloud. 

“‘Jason, I’m worried about you. Please text me back when you can. I know it’s stupid to be worried just cause I haven’t heard from you in a few days, but Gotham is a stupid shithole and I wanna know that you haven’t been eaten by a giant mutant crocodile or something.’” 

Jason’s skin crawled when the Joker read a text from you aloud. 

You were worried. 

Jason was beaten, dying because of the consequences of his own stupid actions, and you were worried. 

“Well, that’s almost sweet.” The Joker sniggered. “You’ve been ignoring these for days now! That’s rude!” 

Another round of laughter from the goons. 

Jason was then struck with the realization that because of his current situation - idiotically kidnapped, tied to a chair, beaten - he had been ignoring you for days. He had unintentionally caused you to worry, on top of everything else. He had hurt you. 

Had you sent someone looking for him? Would he actually somehow get out of this? Was there a chance that he might actually be rescued? 

“I think we should answer. Your sweet little friend deserves some closure - a load off the mind, you know.” 

The Joker’s voice took on a menacing dark tone as he said this. 

Jason’s insides clenched with horror. They had tortured him in almost every way imaginable - taken it as far as they could without actually killing him. They had inflicted all kinds of pain on his body. Now they were going to torture his mind. 

They were pulling you into their game as a fucked up pawn. 

“No!” Jason tried to weakly protest, but then, entirely against his will, came the sound of his phone unlocking. “Fuck you!” 

He hadn’t put a password on it yet. It was relatively new - a present Bruce had gotten him when he had come back to Gotham. A bid to buy his affection. He hadn’t gotten around to putting a password on it yet. 

Another stupid mistake. 

Jason nearly lost his breath when he heard ringing. The Joker wasn’t just going to reply to your text messages - he was calling you. 

Whatever happened to Jason next - whatever torture, whatever pain they inflicted upon him - they were going to make you listen. 

… 

One thing you had come to learn over the past week: rich people have a lot of peculiar habits. 

Your grandmother would insist that you be there for afternoon tea at three o’clock sharp, and apparently having too much sugar in your tea was considered rude, because it was a reflection of the quality of the tea that the host had presented you with. She insisted that you ‘dress for dinner’ - which meant that you weren’t allowed to wear sweatpants at her formal dining table, and even ripped jeans were frowned upon. Also, sitting with your feet curled underneath you at the dining table caused her glare at you - a lot. 

But as much as she had scolded you for your brutish, poor people ways - you had managed to bring her around to some of your ways of life. You showed her how binging reality shows could be fun, and that not all types of processed junk food were terribly beyond her taste. 

It was probably why you were putting up with this now. The garden party. 

You were surprised that she had been able to put together a party this elaborate so quickly. But she said that it was necessary because she had insisted that she wanted you to meet all of her friends. 

You thought that it would be just a few people; no more than would fill up the dozen chairs that she had at her exceedingly large fancy dining table. But you grew more anxious as cars filled the long driveway and more people filled the ‘garden’ out back, picking at tables that had been set up with expensive catered food and sipping on drinks that were being poured by a bartender that had been highered last minute. 

Of course - your grandmother insisted on picking an outfit for you. She didn’t bring herself to care where exactly on the gender spectrum you fell - she didn’t even bring up your birth gender at all, which surprised you, since she had known you as a baby. She simply took it at face value when you introduced yourself to her by name and the two of you easily rolled with things from there. It was strange for an old woman, especially one so caught up in the history of all the objects in her home. But you supposed that those deathbed regrets ran deep and she preferred to spend this time with you actually embracing you instead of arguing with you and potentially driving you away. 

She insisted on picking your clothes because she simply hated your graphic band tee shirts and your ripped jeans, and insisted that you wear something ‘light and airy’ worthy of a garden party. All she had asked before she consulted her personal shopper was if you had a preference of pants or a skirt. And you couldn’t bring yourself to protest, even when you saw the pastel colours that you normally would have utterly hated. 

You weren’t sure why you were trying so hard to impress someone that you barely knew - someone you could barely even call family. Perhaps it was because your mother had treated you so poorly - she had never cared if you were clothed or fed, so having someone buy you expensive new clothes after caring to have ‘family dinner’ with you every night, it was touching. Especially considering that she was throwing an entire party in your honor when your mother hadn’t even wished you ‘happy birthday’ most years - often forgot the day and let it pass without acknowledgment at all. 

Everything your grandmother was going for you, it made you feel like you truly mattered for the first time in your young life. 

Perhaps for the first time since Jason had insisted on stitching up your wound - after he had told you that you being hurt on his behalf in the first place was such a terrible crime. But you didn’t want to think about that too much because you missed him so terribly. 

You did find yourself picky at the itchy, slightly too tight collar as you went downstairs to join the other guests. Your grandmother paraded you around, introduced you to different people. And soon, she abandoned you near one of the snack tables when she was called over by some ‘business associate’. 

You couldn’t resist the urge to pull out your phone and check - your stomach sank when you saw that there was still nothing from Jason. 

Entirely against your own will, you began typing. 

‘Jason, I’m worried about you. Please text me back when you can. I know it’s stupid to be worried just cause I haven’t heard from you in a few days, but Gotham is a stupid shithole and I wanna know that you haven’t been eaten by a giant mutant crocodile or something.’

You hoped that he would reply soon. Even if it was telling you to fuck off. 

You hated when you got sucked into another conversation with more people you didn’t know. You quickly found yourself mentally begging to be released from the hell as more and more people asked you questions that you couldn’t even begin to form the answers to. 

“What are your top three?” One of the women asked you, looking at you with precise, dissecting eyes. 

‘Top three what?’ You wanted to shriek. 

“My Brandon is going to Dartmouth after summering in Metropolis. Doing a lot of volunteer work there - an angel, he is.” 

The other women standing around you all nodded, giving approving looks with strangely fake smiles, and all you could do was nod and smile along with them. 

‘Summering? Since when is that a verb?’ 

You wished more than anything that Jason was there with you. Not only would he pull you aside and relentlessly laugh at these plastic-y women with you, but you knew that he would be able to save you from this. He did have a bit more experience being around rich people because of Bruce, and he would actually be able to tell you what the hell they were saying. He would be able to translate all this shit to ‘Oliver Twist’ for you so that you wouldn’t feel like you were suddenly living on some alien planet. 

“Where do you usually summer? When you’re not with your grandmother, that is?” 

You felt more panic rise in you as another question was directed at you, desperately racking your brain for an answer that wouldn’t make you sound stupidly out of place to them. 

Luckily, before you had to stumble your way through the interaction, your phone began to vibrate in the pocket of the overly expensive blazer that your grandmother had made you wear. You wanted to breathe a sigh of relief at the chance for distraction - even though it was probably a spam call, or Gar, calling to complain that he was lonely because Rachel wasn’t back from her trip yet. (Without you and Jason there, and with Rachel extending her stay on Themyscira, he near constantly complained to you that he was lonely, and that he hated everyone leaving.) 

But still, you jumped at the chance to escape the many pairs of eyes, staring at you, studying your every move like you were a very fascinating bug. Looking at you like you were something that didn’t belong there. 

“I have to take this.” You grinned at them, reaching to grab your phone out of your pocket. 

You moved away from the group of clucking hens, hoping for some privacy in the conversation. Even if it was just Gar, you would use this opportunity to stall for as long as possible before being pulled back into the party. 

When you took your phone out and saw Jason’s contact photo lighting up the screen, you couldn’t hold back the smile that broke across your cheeks. It was a picture of him sticking his tongue out that you had taken using the front facing camera when he had been annoying you over your shoulder one day.

Pure, unadulterated joy. That stupid teenager crush igniting your insides yet again. 

You moved toward the refreshment table, knowing that you looked like an idiot as you stared down at your phone, smiling so widely. 

You knew that you were in too deep. That you probably felt far more deeply for him than he did for you - that you would have dared to call it that deep, ‘tied together forever’ thing, and he probably wouldn’t. 

But you were caring less and less each day. You were beginning not to care if he broke your heart. 

At this point, you were just along for the ride. 

A very small voice in the back of your head told you that maybe he was calling to break things off with you. Maybe, all this time that he had gone without speaking to you, he had been waiting, working up the courage, finding the right words to tell you that he was truly done with you. 

But no. That wouldn’t be the case. 

He had simply been busy. And now, he was calling to tell you what a hectic, shitty few days it had been, how much he had missed you - 

“Hey, asshole. I don’t know if you leeched some of Rach’s psychic powers, but you called just in time to save me.” 

You breathed into the receiver as soon as you picked up, throwing out a casual greeting, knowing that Jason wouldn’t be offended by the words. 

“I always hesitate to say that you were right, but I am beginning to regret not taking you up on that offer to come with me. You should see some of these rich, stuck-up snobs - you would be laughing your ass off if you were here right now.” 

There was a long silence. 

Your stomach dropped. 

On the other end, you had no clue that Jason felt that exact same sting of regret about not coming with you. If he had - the two of you could have been safe and happy together. 

Fear clutched at your throat. 

It was a basic instinct, but you knew that the silence wasn’t a good thing. You thought that all of your worst fears were about to come true. That Jason was about to tell you that he was truly done with you, that he never actually felt anything for you in the first place, and he was just working up the courage to speak the words aloud. 

But it was so much worse than that. It was worse than anything you could have imagined. 

A single, ragged breath. 

Air struggling to get in and out of his lungs past broken bone - pain. 

Standing in the radiance of a warm, pleasant afternoon, with people mingling happily all around you - all the life drained from you. All the happiness sucked out of the world in a matter of seconds. 

You wanted to scream at the top of your lungs, wanted to cry out for help. 

There was a unique cruelty in the fact that everyone else in the garden simply went on, chatting, laughing, engaging in merriment. The fact that they went about their stupid party, having no clue that a world away, in Gotham - a great tragedy was taking place. 

All of those rich assholes sipped their drinks and carried on with their day, having no clue that your world was about to end. 

“Jason?” 

You knew that your voice was so utterly wounded, small and terrified. You made no effort to hide it. 

There was a harsh sound - a collision of flesh, a groan. A hit. It was a sound that somehow made your guts twist in on themselves even more. 

“Go on, Robin.” 

That voice wasn’t Jason. It wasn’t someone you knew. It was wicked and harsh and made you want to scream. All you could do was swallow around a thick dryness that had formed in your throat - like sandpaper had been put there. 

You didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t do anything more than listen. 

“Go on, answer your pretty friend.” 

Jason sucked in another harsh breath, and sputtered out a cough. 

“I - I fucked up.” Jason said, his voice ragged. “I fucked up big time.” 

You felt a hot, wet tear run down your face before you realized that you were crying. Your legs were filled with concrete and you felt the world spinning on its axis. It was a miracle that you managed to stay standing upright. 

You couldn’t even comprehend how you might have looked to someone else in those moments, and truthfully it didn’t matter. No one else at the party even noticed the terrible grief that had struck you. They simply carried on, absorbed in their own little world. 

“Jason?” 

It hadn’t even occurred to you that you had given up Jason’s secret identity - the name behind the Robin mask. You were too busy quaking with fear, your chest tight as you considered: this might actually be the end of his life. 

And you couldn’t do anything about it. 

What the fuck could you do about it? 

“What happened?” You rushed to ask, your voice full of breath, full of fear. “What’s happening?” 

More tears poured down your face, and you swallowed around the tightness of your throat, forcing a clearness to be able to speak. 

“I made a mistake.” Jason said, his voice coming out in a tight wheeze as he struggled to breathe. “I - I never should have gotten you involved in this.” 

You knew what he really wanted to say. He wanted to apologize for letting you get close to him. For giving you the potential to get hurt. 

“No!” You easily argued back. “Don’t you fucking dare.” 

You decided right then and there - maybe you had decided a long time ago - if he broke your heart by leaving you alone, by dying, you didn’t care. You didn’t care if he left you fucked up and broken. All of the time the two of you had spent together - it had all been worth it. 

You needed him to know that. You needed him to know. 

“Jason, I-” 

You hesitated for a moment before you said it. Before you crossed that line into the abyss. Your voice clouded with the thickness of your tears when you finally said the words. 

“I love you.” 

When he heard it, Jason let out a wounded howl. 

You thought that he had been stabbed. You let out a sob of your own, echoing his pain. 

You did not know that it was these words alone that damned him. It was something that hurt him more than any baseball bat crashing down over his knees or any brass knuckles against his jaw ever could have. 

Moments before his death, you sentenced him to the worst crime of all - breaking your heart. Now, with his own foolish choices, he had damned you to a life without the one you loved. You had sentenced him to dying with the knowledge that he was the worst piece of shit to ever touch your life. That he truly had rotted everything good about you - just like he had promised. 

You could have chosen anyone else, and you chose to love the stupid, fucked up, idiotic Jason Todd. The man who was about to die due to his own incompetence. 

“Aww, isn’t that sweet?” The stranger’s voice was there again, mocking you. 

You weren’t surprised that Jason didn’t say it back - but you hoped that your words, that you saying it brought some comfort to him. 

You were about to open your mouth again, about to promise that you would find him and rescue him in time. 

And then another pillar of hell struck you. 

“Now, it’s time for the little birdie to go bye-bye.” 

You couldn’t even muster your voice again, couldn’t scream out against this. Your throat was swollen shut, like an allergic reaction to the tragedy as it happened. 

There was a silence - a second of your life that swallowed you whole like an abyss of fifty endless years. 

And then, that silence was cut through by the worst sound you had ever been forced to hear. 

A gunshot. 

The sound was distinctive, clear as day. 

“Jason?!” 

You screamed his name at the top of your lungs - this time, undeniably drawing attention to yourself. Even the plastic party goers couldn’t ignore a tragedy of this magnitude. You couldn’t bring yourself to care as multiple of their heads snapped toward you, taking in the now utterly disheveled sight of you, crying, clutching at your phone like it was the most precious thing in the world. 

“Jason?!” You screamed again, your voice nagging into a hopelessly dead line. 

You didn’t know that they had smashed Jason’s phone, disposing of it now that they were done with their game. 

Upon instinct, you ran. Your legs were heavy and felt stupid and you stumbled into multiple people on your way into the house, causing murmurs as the crowd stared at you. You didn’t care. You were panicked, shaking, confused. You made your way up to the guest bedroom that you had been staying in and began frantically shoving your things back into your bag, half-packed when you finally realized that you had no clue where you were going. 

And you collapsed onto the floor, then. Your whole body was weak, overtaken by shock. Clueless and terrified, your chest was barely taking in breath and your own phone slipped out of your shaking hand when you tried to think of your next move. 

For a long time - what felt like endless hours, days - you could do nothing but sit there and desperately try to suck air into your lungs, playing the gunshot sound over and over again in your mind. 

They shot Jason. They shot Jason. They had shot Jason. 

Your brain could hardly process it. 

One of your grandmother’s caretakers knocked on the bedroom door and you couldn’t gather words to answer. When she asked you what had happened, you couldn’t even begin to explain. That was when you realized that you had needed concrete answers yourself. So as she left the room to make you some peppermint tea ‘for your nerves’, you forced your shaking hands to work, and you grabbed up your phone again. 

You needed to call Dick. 

He didn’t pick up. Then you called Kory. No dice. Then you called Gar - you could hear the bustle of a crime scene in the background, but he sounded okay. He was talking in his usual bright, excited voice. The Titans had likely just made a bust. He was excited to be making a difference, helping people. 

You sucked down breath and tripped over your own words trying to explain it. Jason was in trouble - a gunshot, he was hurt. He was dead. Gar barely understood, tried arguing against you because you sounded hysterical. But he passed the phone to Dick at your insistence. Dick made sense of your words, and made you wait fifteen long painful minutes until he was back in front of the computer at Titans Tower to give you some kind of answer. 

Jason’s tracker was online. It was in Gotham. It was at the Amusement Mile. 

It wasn’t picking up any heat signature from Jason’s body. That only meant one thing: his body was cold. 

“I’m - I’m so sorry, Y/N. Jason’s - he’s gone.”

...

A/N: This is part one of two, and I do have the second part ready to go in my drafts.

Based on the original, Emergency Contact, having around 400 notes, and based on the fact that Jason Todd is a popular character:

I would like to see around 50 reblogs and around 50 comments on this before I post the next part.

Which I do think is a modest ask - if the same amount of people who enjoyed the original show up to read this sequel, then I will be asking one quarter of those people to comment or reblog. And I say 'around' because if I see a good amount of people commenting and reblogging, even if we don't meet the goal, then I will post the next part more quickly.

(I just don't want another incident to happen where people stop commenting immediately as the goal is met and then I end up with 30 comments and 900 likes, clearly showing that people don't care to support a fic even if they clearly enjoyed it.)

However, if you are going to comment, please do not just comment asking for the next part or asking when the next part will be posted, please comment about the body of work that has already been written and posted. I find it inconsiderate and stressful when people only ask for updates. I much prefer to spark a discussion about the existing work that has been written.

Anyway - I am just insanely proud of this fic and I really want to hear what you guys think of it so far!! So please do comment, reblog and rant in the tags, or come to my inbox and chat with me on anon if you're shy. I always wanna hear from fellow Jason Todd lovers and fellow Titans enjoyers.

[mercutio-the-velaryon]

A Close Reading of Viktor's 'ascended' Form

Disclaimer: These are very jumbled thoughts but I've been trying to articulate this for a while so I'm just baring it to the public flaws and all.

I am being dead serious when I say that Melvik is a lens of viewing that serves to recentre Mel as a major character and reassert her value in the hextech trio dynamic. I will be utilsing this lens to analyse Viktor's choice to make his 'perfected' beings carry Mel's attributes.

Immediately, I will preface by saying, that although I read Jayce and Viktor's relationship as romantic, this choice has nothing to do with Jayce, at least, not in relation to feelings of romantic jealousy or romantic insecurity.

So, what does it mean when Viktor wears Mel's white and gold? I think it shows that he views Mel as the epitome of Piltover priivilege and the personification of the social barrier he could not supercede through hard work and picking himself up by his own bootstraps.

The scene above where Mel seems to be singularly be imploring Jayce to militarise Hextech as defensive action is essential to understanding why Viktor views her this way.

In this sequence, Mel is originally conversing with Viktor and Jayce on an equal physical level until she presents her ideal plan of action then she stands straight and focuses more on convincing Jayce rather than Viktor. This is not an attempt to be cruel or malicious, though it very well be an expression of her irritation because in Mel's eyes Viktor's reasonable protest seems like a juvenile outburst. As a Noxian and a Medarda Mel is accustomed to war and bloodshed she does not want the carnage of such an event to bring Piltover to ruin. However, she is also painstakingly aware that losing a war would be a death sentence. The stakes are life and death, and I believe based on what I understand of Mel's character that she would not attempt to bypass Viktor's opposition in more normal circumstances. She respects him to an extent but not more than she respects her position, her legacy and not more than she fears the consequences of losing a war.

Additionally, I view the way she stands and directs attention at Jayce as a demonstration of how she is by nature of the social system always above him. That she and Jayce, are classist as is everyone conditioned and socialised in this system, and for them as citizens of Piltover, as members of the bourgeoisie, and the council their dismissal of Viktor is not that active of a choice, its a reflex, its a manifestation of their biases. Which is terrible in its own right. Viktor discovers in this scene, that Jayce can and will go over his head despite hextech being a joint creation because his social positioning is just higher than his is. It always was and it always will be. These are unchangeable factors and immovable dynamics.

That is to say, that I think Mel's show of power in this scene, her long-term investment in hextech as well as very likely witnessing her political maneuvers from a distance during his time as Heimerdinger's assistant has cemented Mel in Viktor's mind as the paragon of Piltover privilege.

I like to imagine this reaction to Mel's powers "the arcane stirs within you" as a twisted delight. Magic is a natural force, its wild and uncharted and its presence in Mel has this undoing effect, it perplexes her, to use it she physically exerts herself, it makes her bare her teeth. It's a side of Mel, Viktor would have never witnessed, in her struggle with this he finds a glimmer of kindredness that briefly enthralls him.

When he creates his ideal form, a white and gold, sleek and slim faceless robot with a gentle elegent gait and manner of movement and is seeking to conform the entire world to it, know that Viktor in his mind is equalising both himself and the rest of the world to what he considers the apex of privilege, therefore ridding the world of social hierarchy, difference and struggle.

The grand irony of this act is that he ends up bypassing the autonomy of literally everyone by subjecting them to this much like Mel bypassed him. Meaning, he hasn't rid the world of this hierarchy at all, he's put all these people beneath him and robbed them of choice and freedom.

Separate Melvik spiel:

Mel and Viktor's inherent relationship to each other through nature, disposition and as narrative foils is just so meticulous I can no longer genuinely view Arcane as a text without noticing the absence of an established personal dynamic between them. The groundwork for a romance is embedded in the text, their relation to each other is already by itself canonically quite romantic, all of their qualities and attributes are either contrasting or is eerily similar, everything about them serves to say something about the other within the constraints of the Arcane narrative (I doubt this will continue in game and in the follow up series). His admiration of her is tainted by his resentfulness at her position and the way she's wielded it. So many characters in media have kissed for less than that.

[kiemiu]

𝓒𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓: 𝓣𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝓣𝐨 𝓜𝐞

pairing kang sae-byeok x fem!reader | wc: 1.8k

summary -> a day that goes your way. warnings -> none.

( beneath the quiet masterlist )

7:09PM

Time had slipped by, and as the days flew by quickly, there were no abrupt changes in your schedule, still leaving a lot left to be desired from your normal day-to-day. Sae-byeok began to make more frequent appearances at the orphanage, her visits often stretching for hours on end as she quietly kept Cheol company. Always talking quietly to him to keep the peace in their own little bubble, shared smiles, and poorly concealed laughter showcased just how close they were as siblings, a small tug on your heartstrings happening every time you walked past the visitor area to get a quick glimpse of them.

Yet, like clockwork, she’d end up disappearing for days at a time once her injuries healed, only to soon return with fresh marks on her skin—bruises and cuts adorning her skin, showing a brutal side to her that she kept concealed. It was as if her long felts of absences were silent declarations of something raw, something she refused to acknowledge no matter how much you pried.

You truly worried for her, always being unsure if the next time you saw her would be you or Cheol’s very last. Anxiety couldn't help but continue to bubble inside you with her resistance. Every time you attempted to check in, to offer even a hint of concern, she deflected, retreating behind the same curt, almost robotic phrase: “I’m fine.” as if it was something she had been taught to say instead of feel. The faint limp in her step, the weary slant of her shoulders, the cuts on her hands, the bruises on her face, the swell of her left eye, all telling a different story. That she was everything but fine.

With the added uneasiness of wondering about Sae-Byeok’s health, there was also a relieved air that brushed over you at the absence of your boyfriend. After his less than desirable return, he decided to stay at his own apartment for a little while instead of crash at yours, his excuse—not that he needed one—was because he needed space, feeling as though he needed to get his feelings sorted out, while simultaneously hinting at the solution of a breakup. You showed no indifference to his choice, not a smile even when you were bouncing off of the walls excited, but also not a frown to feign heartache in a play to stroke his already huge ego.

He didn't like your reaction, leaving in a huff like he usually did and he hadn't returned in a week or so, his radio silence being a serene peacefulness to what he usually brought you.

You rolled your neck to release the tightness in it, You had been on your feet since 5 in the morning, having to work an early shift at Café Gippeum, while also having to be at the orphanage by 11. Throughout your shift your eyes couldn't help but trail back to the array of treats that sat on the display. All of them glistening in their own delicious glory.

Feeling a tug towards the banana bread that sat untouched. You hadn’t seen Sae-Byeok eat it before—or anything at all quite frankly, you had just hoped that the fullness of the sweet bread would be enough to get her through the rest of the afternoon.

Arriving at the orphanage, you had to take a minute to gather yourself in your car. Practicing on how you’d give the treat to her, anticipating with crossed fingers that she’s there today, as well as doesn't completely reject the offering of bread you brought her.

The first thing you did as you walked into the house was greet the children in the lunchroom before walking towards the visitor area, thankfully spotting Sae-byeok but this time she was alone, Cheol most-likely running off somewhere to seek out yet another of his little creations to share. You approached her slowly, your steps deliberate, unsure on whether it was an appropriate time or not to intrude on her solitude. Yet something inside you, possibly a desperate hope, urged you forward to her. Forcing you to do something—anything.

You carried two thick slices of banana bread wrapped in a napkin and a chilled water bottle you had grabbed from the fridge on your way out of the lunchroom, both simple offerings, but ones that felt important to you and ones that hopefully showed her how much you cared.

Her head lifting at the sound of your soft approaching footsteps. Her gaze, soft, and gentle, different from her usual judgy pierce. “It’s not much,” you murmured, holding the food toward her. “But I noticed you stay here during the kids’ morning stretch and nap time. They usually have two meals and two snacks by then.” you add on quietly, your eyes trailing back and forth from the bread to her eyes.

Sae-byeok’s gaze shrink as they flickered to the bread, scanning it briefly with a look that could only be described as skeptical, almost dismissive.

“You—uh, You don’t have to eat it,” you said quickly, your voice quieter, more uncertain now. “But… it’s here if you need it.” you gently stammered before setting down the items in front of her. The awkwardness of the moment hung thick in the air as you took a small step back, feeling her eyes on you, but avoiding their weight by staring down at your feet.

With a murmur of a quick apology, you bowed before turning to head outside where the rest of the children were starting to retreat after lunch. Leaving her to herself and soon Cheol, wherever he may be.

You could feel the vibrating joy from the kids who were finally free to run outside after a string of rainy days had kept them indoors. Their excited voices filled the yard as they ran around gleefully, a smile stretching on your face as you watched them.

Your moment of tranquility sadly interrupted at the sound of your mom calling out to you. Your eyes wavered on the kids, leaving them to play together and enjoy their own little world that they've created. Slowly you started to make your way toward the swinging bench that sat on the side of the yard, your eyes flickering to the window of the visitors area as Sae-byeok lingered on your mind.

Your eyes found her immediately. Still sitting this time with Cheol by her side. He was talking animatedly, his hands making grand gestures as he shared whatever tale had caught his imagination. Sae-byeok fully absorbed in the story, her cheeks round and stuffed with banana bread, her doe-like eyes soft and attentive as she nodded along to his words. Her water bottle, half-full, rested beside her, forgotten for the moment as she brought a hand up to cover her smile at something funny Cheol must’ve said. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight—Cheol’s energy infectious, and Sae-byeok’s rare moment of quiet contentment touching, you wish you saw that side of her more.

You tore your gaze away quickly, turning towards the bench your mother sat on, the familiar pull of responsibility tugging at you. She wasn’t the type to wait long, and you didn’t want to be caught staring at something you couldn’t quite define.

Your gaze then found your mothers, her hand holding two cups of tea, and her head gesturing over to the available seat next to her. A bit of surprise fell over you as you slowly fell into the seat next to her, grabbing the glass of a tea with a grateful smile and a gentle nod not being used to her actually wanting to spend one on one time with you.

“How are you doing, sweetie? You seem a little… distant lately.” she interjects first before bringing her mug to her lips.

“I’m fine, just busy. You know, same old stuff.” you reply, your eyes falling on your own mug that laid in your lap, watching as the liquid moved languidly with the soft sways of the bench.

“I know things have been a bit off lately… I’ve noticed you’ve been keeping to yourself more.” she adds, her eyes flickering from the kids over to your figure for a split second,

“Just a lot on my mind. I’ll get over it.” you mutter quickly with a shrug of your shoulders, resistant on going down a path of talking about your feelings on a day as pretty as the one you were having.

There's a moment of silence, your mothers head fully turning towards yours, her eyes trailing up and down your figure before finally asking “What’s going on, really? You know you can talk to me, right?”

You let out a small sigh, your shoulders slumped forward, a slight hesitancy in the way you speak “I—I don’t know. It’s just… you know me and David aren’t on the best terms right now.”

With furrowed eyebrows your mother starts to pry a little more. “What happened? You two were so close not too long ago.” she asked, Oh right, you never told her about the situation before he left.

With a frustrated sigh you murmure out “Things just… fell apart. We’ve been fighting a lot and I don’t think we’re in the same place anymore. My heart just hasn't been in the same place for a while.”

A soft hum leaves her and a moment of silence follows. “Your heart hasn't been in the same place…is there someone else?” she suddenly asks, her shoulder bumping into yours teasingly.

“I—no! No, no, no. I just haven't been-” you cut yourself off, giving your mother a deadpan stare at the look she gives you with a teasing smile, her eyebrows lifting up and down in a mocking way.

Your mother giggled at the look you shot her way, a playful glint in her eye as she continued to relentlessly tease you. You tried fighting the smile on your face but couldn't hold it back, letting out a flurry of laughter as you gave into her playful taunts.

Despite the way her questions made you squirm and want to burrow yourself in the ground out of embarrassment, there was something undeniably familiar about her warmth. You didn’t always like the way she handled things, but in the end, she was the woman that raised you. Blood or not, she was still your mother, even when there was a flickering light inside of you that hoped and prayed for the arrival of your birth mom if she was still out there.

As her teasing continued, you found yourself glancing once more towards the visitor area. This time, Sae-byeok’s gaze met yours, direct and unblinking. Cheol too focused on his drawing to notice, yet Sae-byeok, almost as if uncertain, lifted her hand in a small, hesitant wave. Without thinking, you returned the gesture, your wave shy, unsure of how to handle the sudden, quiet connection that hung between you, a wordless bridge formed in the space between.

' 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ' 📷 : @miabcuzz @twicesuuui @kissyslut @kritkalhit @st4rcs @dumbbellxo @theforestchoseme3 @wlvlurvsfimmia @genshinenjoyer @theweirdanimation @ch-3-rry @nenukkjhj @giaqnn @crack240 @pookalicious-hq @laurenkenss @sheinhamood @pooksterrr @bbynai @diorzs @beaaluv @colorfulkittenperfection @yourl0caltrash @kidicaruslover911 @sherryuki-callmeyuki @i0nic02 @knfthxv @mina-has-been-here @monroesturnns

[silkenwinger]

lightning crashes

yellowjackets lite, post plane crash (and post getting shot) johnny soap mactavish x reader.

part three. read on ao3

You watch them disappear into the dark wood, Oliver heading the group with the other two flanking him. The forest swallows them whole after a few moments. 

The remaining people at camp keep doing their tasks, this weird normalcy among the abnormal recent events of your lives. Carving out a good piece of wood, to make a bowl, a spoon or a figurine, like the ones in grandmother’s house. Cleaning the fish from any bones, stringing apart the lean meat until only fine strings remain. Obsessively stoking the fire, fearing its quenching like the vestals of old Rome. And cleaning the weapons, even more than once a day. 

You watch Johnny use the thin rod to clean the barrel with an ease given by his experience. While indeed spartan, the previous owner of the house you’re squatting in right now at least knew something about guns, and kept a wide range of accessories to clean them. Solvents and brushes almost outnumbered the amount of food supplies in the cupboard, which was very demoralizing to a starving you when you opened it. Thankfully you know someone who can make use of them.

Johnny sits removed from the group, but not too far, gun pointed towards the void as he works. It’s like a ritual for him: a moment of peace from the nervous chatter, the petulant snipes, the despair in the eyes of others. His head hurts at times too, ghosts of war peeking their way through– he’s good at hiding the pain, but you’ve been attached to the hip for so long now you’ve picked up a lot of his microexpressions. Still, he looks peaceful now, back to you, straight but relaxed, never hunching. It’s now more than ever that he registers as a different entity than the rest of you: a warrior among plebs. For all his joking and protectiveness, you can catch a glimpse of his true nature under the mask. A chaser, someone who stays put the way a lynx waits for its prey. Not a bystander. His reasons for not spearheading the mission-like expedition must run deeper than five scary minutes in the forest.

For the rest of the morning you do little. Check the rudimentary traps close to the cabin (empty, all of them), try to tend to your hair as you can in a small moment of vanity that ends when you remember the remaining shampoo is so little, the less you touch your hair with your hands the less it gets dirty. In the afternoon, you sneak out, almost like a teenager leaving their room on the sly, to do something. Anything. Once the first, unending period of fear ended, and once the hope diminished, as well, boredom started sitting on your bones. On everyone’s, you think. So you keep yourself sane by walking, and doing stuff with your hands. If you find food, even better. There comes a time when hunger is so strong and powerful your limbs can’t move, and you don’t want to reach that point. Ever. 

You make your way through a patch of woods where you’ve previously found some mushrooms (still unidentified, but that you dried and put in a container just in case), the opposite side of where the trio went. Sniffling, you look beneath the plants for any similar luck, moving stems and branches away: but you find only mud and moss. You run your hand on the bark of a fallen tree full of the latter, the touch pleasing and soft. If you close your eyes, and try really really hard, you can visualize the texture of a couch, or a velvet chair, your home or another one. You store the thought in the corner of your mind where the hope resides.

More rustling and checking among the shrubs, and you finally find something worth your time: a bush of blackberries. Exhaling a breath of joyful surprise, you start to pick as many fruit as you possibly can, knees propped on the damp ground. The blackberries are smaller than commercial ones, of course– and you hope their seeds aren’t too big, but beggars can’t be choosers. Halfway through, though, you reckon you probably shouldn’t pick them all in a sitting. Patience and restraint are the key to surviving hardships, and gobbling a new resource the day you found it just feels wasteful. Plus, you will have to share with the others.

At the very start, some had argued everyone should hunt and gather their own food. The extremely individualistic idea never went anywhere: there wasn’t a weapon for everyone, and hunting could also be fruitless for days. At the end, re establishing a minimum of social structure among strangers was the chosen way of living. Everyone contributed with what they could do: and if they didn’t know how to do anything, they learnt from someone who could. You’d taught Martha and a few others the basics of foraging, and a few ways to store food (even though the resources’ limitations made it a challenge). Johnny had taught some not only how to shoot but also how to hunt. When asked about it, he said it just came naturally to him, and there was little difference for him in hunting a stag from hunting a man inside a forest.

Making sure to hold the bag carefully so you don’t smash any fruit inside, you start to make your way out of the woods. There are two landmarks you’ve kept in mind: the fallen tree covered by moss and a big rock just at the start of where the woods start to clear. The sun is still out, but evening falls quite fast here: the moment the sun starts to go down, it’s only half an hour before the sky becomes dark enough not to see further than your feet. You grab a couple of blackberries to munch on as you walk back. 

When you reach the camp again, everyone is huddling around the fire. You can’t see Johnny, though, and it sends an unpleasant spark up your back.

“How’s Aurora?” You ask Martha.

“Way better. Stood up and had a walk before. Where were you?” She asks, tone curious. The light of the fire makes her blonde hair look a lovely amber shade.

The loud, sharp noise of something slamming almost makes your soul leave your body.

“Bonnie! Where the hell were ya!” Shouts Johnny, who apparently was just inside the cabin. You release a breath, and scanning his body, you notice he changed from the morning. He’s wearing that one black sleeveless shirt… Around his neck hang his binoculars, lenses shining. You'd always find it peculiar, how he just had those in his baggage, but after all there's a lot you don't know about him. Maybe he was checking for Oliver and the others?

“I found these,” you tell the group showing them the blackberries. There’s a collective “woo” and “nice”. Johnny leaves the doorstep, and the view of him immediately reaching for you flips your stomach. You smile at him while he walks right next to you, his face pointing towards your bag.

“Want some?” You ask him with a smile, tilting the sachet towards him. Eyes pointed towards the inside, he brushes his arms against yours as he picks a blackberry, fingers almost too big in comparison to the small spheres. He throws one in his mouth with a fluid gesture, and smugly smiles at your slightly impressed expression while he chews.

“Where exactly did you find them?”

“A little past that bit,” you answer, pointing to where you came from.

He hums. Johnny is not the type to pick plants (he could if he needed, but why do it when there’s other people who only know how to do that?) so you don’t know what he will do with that, but if it helps him organize his mental palace, who are you to deny him the information?

You spend the evening sitting at the fire with the others. Everyone gets their share of blackberries, and in return you get some edible flowers and a bit of fish. You would still be starving in normal circumstances, and you do feel a small, almost imperceptible ping; but your stomach and expectations have been restrained, changed, and you don’t suffer as much as you did the first days. 

“And I remember thinking a month or so after, “I should have just gone ahead and told on him”, but in hindsight, everything is easier,” Martha finishes her story, legs crossed. You nod, sipping on water. You brush your knee against Johnny’s almost by accident, almost on purpose. While his eyes were distracted and unfocused a second ago, they seem keenly sharp now as they watch you.

“Should we try planting the little fruit seeds?” Asks Joon, an enthusiastic, if not a bit clueless young man.

“Are you saying we should play farmers? I want to be out of here before the plant can bloom,” mutters Luca, another survivor.

People say their own piece about trying to cultivate, and whether it’s a useless waste of energy, especially now that autumn approaches. 

Meanwhile, Johnny keeps staring at you. It would be uncomfortable in any other situation, you think, a man just keeping his full attention on you. Almost stifling. You look away first, not out of proper embarrassment, but more out of common courtesy towards the people around you. Johnny is far from done, though.

He makes his move when you’re all laughing from a witty banter between Martha and Henry. You can’t even move away from where you’re leaning against his body that he scoops you up in his arms to put you on his lap. You’re so startled and still chuckling that you almost fall face forward in the fireplace, but he grabs you by the neck of the shirt and pulls you against his chest. Breathless, you turn to see his face filled with so much tenderness it sobers you quickly. 

You’ve been feeling so alone. He makes everything better: not only surviving in a physical sense but also mentally, spiritually. Both a tether to the world you come from and a sure thing in hard times like this.

You’re not going away without him.

Linking your arms around his neck, you settle your body so that you can face the others. Your face is on fire, you can feel the blood pooling over; but to your surprise, no one is staring at you and Johnny, like you being in his lap is no big thing.

You run your nails against his arm as another banter session starts.

It must have been an hour outside when it starts to drizzle, little raindrops shifting to bigger ones. Everyone rushes to put most things inside– when it rains, it rains hard, and no one wants their clothes or food spoiled by water of all things. You slide off Johnny’s lap remorsefully and as an apology you pet his hair, almost like you would a cat. He leans happily into it for the one second it lasts.

A brief question strikes your mind– what about Oliver and company? But by yourself you reason they’ll be covered by the high trees.

A thunder wakes you during the night, flash of lighting appearing on the darkness of your eyelid. It’s still raining, heavy water passing through the rudimentary gutters and no doubt flooding the outside corners of the cabin. Beneath the sound of the rain, though, you hear the door opening and closing softly. That wakes you completely. Who in their right mind goes outside with this weather? You think it could be someone who has to go about their business and doesn't want to wake up everyone using the (rudimentary as well) toilet. But still, you will try to wait for them to come back. 

You wait. Still, they do not come back inside. You’re starting to worry now, and even if the rain has ceased to fall as hard as before, you worry they might have fainted or lost their way. You get up and avoid the sleeping bodies on the ground to grab the holy, almost untouchable flashlight on the table. It’s supposed to be used only on emergencies, and the grand council, now attended by just you, has decided this counts as one.

You light it up as you’re near to the window to try and look out of it, but it’s too small to really catch more than what is just outside. You cross over to the door and open it, not yet closing it back as you try to look in front of you. When you hear a sleepy mumble lamenting the cold, you close it behind you. Walking right next to the cabin, hand on the wall to guide you, you keep pointing the flashlight towards the forest, but you can’t see anyone. Starting from the ground, you make several horizontal swipes, trying to catch as much as you can. You circle the whole house, becoming more and more anxious and alert to any and every sound, but you can’t hear anything but the remaining trickling of water. Turning the last corner of the cabin, your light painting finally illuminates a back, and the rush of panic that runs through is so pure it’s a wonder you don’t scream. It’s extinguished in a second, though.

“Johnny! What the fuck are you doing outside?!” You whisper yell to him, and if he’s surprised, he has no external reaction. He turns to look at you as if he was watching a match on tv and not the dark forest at night as it rains. Like this is a very normal thing to do. And God, he’s soaked! Isn’t he cold?

“Thought I would check if they were back on their way,” he says simply, and you almost make a sad, cooing sound in empathy. It’s weird, though. You could have sworn he didn’t really care about them. And it’s been less than a day. Whatever could they have accomplished, even walking for hours? But tired as you are, you don’t really vocalize all of that.

“I’m sure they’re fine,” you sigh, “and they don’t want you getting ill for them. Come inside,” you plead.

He grins a bit too wide.

“Sure thing, love.”

Days pass. There’s this push and pull with Johnny, your own will-they-won’t-they skewing decisively towards will-they, but you’re somehow pushing it back, too. Besides his weird surveillance methods, Johnny is still flirty and touchy-feely, and you’re crushing so hard on him you just want him to not fall sick over worry. You’d like to have a really private moment with him, too, but it’s not happening. Not as the nights pass and there’s no sign of the three men that left, and everyone is growing extremely jumpy and scared.

And the paranoia only erupts when you find George’s ratty shirt by the river one morning.

[catboy-jupiter]

I decided to do this with three sets of my OCs, because I was amused by how different their responses would be!

Little scenes/snippets under the cut! Was very excited to write some stuff for them, especially since the last one is from a setting I haven't thought much about in a while ₍^ >ヮ<^₎

The Knights ❀༊·˚ [scene: alive and well]

"That… Lucien…" Anish falters, eyes stinging as he looks away, takes a deep breath; and finally meets Lucien's eyes again. "You shouldn't be used to it! That's horrible. Your powers… They're incredible. I've always, always been so, so grateful that you developed them to help me. Why… Why would they scorn such a thing?!" He asks, more to the universe than to really get an answer.

"Because they think it makes me weak." Lucien replies, easy and nonchalant, as if he hadn't just shared that their former classmates almost killed him, only a few months after he moved out. Anish's hand shakes as he grips his sword tighter. "You weren't there to take the brunt of it anymore, so their target switched to me. Naturally." Then, he hums as he looks at this rapier, inspecting it closely.

Anish deflates immediately. If only he'd stayed… Then, Lucien wouldn't have had to go through that. He wouldn't have had to find him completely separate from all his peers, young and dumb and prejudiced and unwilling to see the value of a healer on the battlefield instead of on the sidelines, just waiting to patch them up.

"I'm sorry." He murmurs, closing the distance between them and resting his head on his shoulder. Lucien spares him a quick glance then looks back at his rapier; back and forth, back and forth, before he sheathes it with a sigh.

"You needn't be. Father took care of it. I'm alive and well, right?"

Anish stares at the deep cut, scarred, on Lucien's cheek. Thinks to his unrecognizable dead, dead eyes that only lit up when Lucien had recognized who'd invited him to their squad that day, finally prompting Anish to connect the dots. Alive? Yes. Well? Most certainly not. But he will try his best to keep that newly-rekindled spark alive.

"Yes. And I'm so grateful for that." He finally replies, closing his eyes and tucking his head closer into Lucien's neck.

He's so deep in his mind he doesn't notice the other's shiver and blush, nor the soft smile unravelling on his face.

Gossip Trio ❀༊·˚ [scene: unimpressed]

Met with Brittany's unblinking stare, Lowell shifts in place. "What." They bark out, arms crossed.

"So you realized what was going on. Stayed. Had a nasty fight before your break-up. Had other, healthier relationships… And you're still into the guy?"

"I am not into him. Not anymore."

"Yeah sure. You only don't drool every time he comes here to pester us because you'd never give him more ammunition for his huge ego."

Lowell huffs and looks away, but their eyes catch onto soft pink clothes, perfect blond curls and an innocent-looking smile that hides the man's sharpest edges. His soft laugh reaches his ears, like twinkling bells, or the clink of chains doing their best to keep someone captive. Lowell tries not to think about how much hotter he's always looked after they'd make out. They fail.

"Not into him." Brittany scoffs, and goes back to sucking on her lollipop and scrolling through her feed, utterly unimpressed. Those two are another level of messed up she hadn't seen even on her worst exes. Or on herself.

Mecha World ❀༊·˚ [scene: carefree smile]

The boy breathes deeply, staring at their bodies, grip firm on the blast gun in case they move a muscle. His breaths are the only one heard in the room, but he still keeps a close eye. The seconds pass, and they remain still, unmoving on the grass. Finally, he slowly lowers it until it points at the ground.

His frown remains as he turns around, clicking the safety back on and going back towards their car. Its auto-drive could take him back home, but it might also complicate things. Implicate him. So he just takes his bag, puts the gun inside it, checks for anything else of his and starts walking.

To his sister, beside whom he'll finally be able to relax. They won't be able to hurt her anymore. Or him. Or anyone else. They're just cooling corpses, now.

… He'd thought she was safe. He'd thought they'd focused it on him, that her smiles reflected how much more they loved her. He'd been grateful for it. He's so dumb. He needs to do better. He should've noticed sooner that they didn't have a name for her, either. But he can't change the past, and he's changed the future. She'll be able to have a carefree smile. He'll be able to relax. They'll choose their names themselves. They aren't controlled by their parents anymore.

#37 What would your character do if they discovered their sibling/friend was abused?

I know you all have amazing creative juices in you and some amazing characters. This prompt is just for you to have fun and to help you explore your Character in a different setting. I would LOVE to hear what your Characters would do.

[randomnameless]

Random Rhea HC : Nap time.

Back when she was a wee litle thing, she used to nap, like her siblings, in both human or lizard form, on Zanado's warm benches when there was some sun or anywhere, even if she prefered, as always, to sit next Sothis who would always find a way to hum her lullaby and have her sleep on her lap.

When it was cloudy and Sothis wasn't available, Cichol had to put her to "sleep" for naps, and while she always refused to, listening to his stories always did the trick (helped by Cichol tucking her to bed first), to the point where putting Cethleann to sleep was very easy for him, because he had to deal with Rhea for years previously (something he often teases her about when she pretends she's alright and doesn't need to sleep when she's Archbishop Rhea).

As Seiros the Warrior, Rhea has trouble sleeping, because even if she is Seiros the Warrior, whenever she falls asleep, she becomes the Rhea who couldn't do a thing in Zanado again, and her nightmares/memories are so frightening that she refuses to sleep.

Whenever she feels like she has too - else she will collapse - at first, when she still cannot trust humans, she escapes to the most secluded place she can find (a mountain, the top of a tree, a forest, some secluded place where no human can find her, or a cave) to rest but her nightmares mean she cannot really rest/sleep.

When she trusts them a little more (but still not that much!) she allows herself to rest for a few hours, but always alone, in a closed space, and with her weapons at hand. When she "rests" like this, she is a very light sleeper and, coupled to her nightmares, it means she cannot get effective sleep.

Willy does his thing, and while she still has some nightmares she finally manages to get some sleep, even if Willy is annoying because while he may be as warm, or even warmer, as the warm rocks from her childhood, he snores and his heartbeat is loud.

Besides, they rarely sleep when they're together because he has to polish his sword or whatnot.

When Cichol'n'co join her quest, she finally feels "safe" enough to sleep in Enbarr's palace without Willy. It's thus a common occurence during the sunny days, to see Saint Seiros sitting on a bench, or against a column, or even in the gardens, "meditating" for the most devouts. Her nightmares are still there, but knowing some of the others survived "lessens" them.

Lycaon and his friends of course pretend to "meditate with Saint Seiros" whenever they want to escape their tutors, they bring their toys and play next to her, until they fall asleep. Rhea was always puzzled to see those children sleeping next to her when she woke up, but was so amused and touched, because it reminded her of her younger days with Sothis, that she never told them to, uh, stop "missing" their lessons.

(To Cichol's great disarray, why are they always running away from his important "philosophy and life lessons" classes? To which his wife would often reply that to a bunch of 5 years old his classes are way too boring.)

Post War of Heroes, once the monastery is built, Rhea isn't "afraid" anymore to sleep because of humans, but her nightmares came back in full force, "updated" with the WoH and her "new" losses, her brothers, Cichol's wife, Lycaon, Willy, etc etc.

Jeralt once spot her asleep at her desk, he tried to wake her up gently by pushing her shoulder, but she broke his jaw as a "reflex" startled.

Sitri worries about her sleep schedule, so she arranges some time in her planning when she would be free to nap, especially when there's sun outside! However, she later discovers that Rhea's sleeping issues are caused by "nightmares" and while she never prays, she introduces her "not mom" to chamomille, maybe it can help her relax, if not sleep?

Cichol returns and while he knows she has nightmares (even since her Seiros the Warrior days) she refuses to talk about them. Ultimately Seteth, with his years of experience, pulls out the same tricks he used in his youth, giving her his reports at night, while she's tucked in bed, and making sure she drank her chamomille.

It's an old method, but it works.

Hanneman once surprised him with a book about nightmares, and asked him if he needed help, which of course attracted Manuela who gave the advice to "drink so much that you pass out and don't remember what happened when you fell asleep".

Cyril refuses to "nap" next to Rhea, or put his head on her lap despite her insistence, because that's way too embarassing and damn, he's not a kid anymore! Catherine doesn't mind at all though, and takes his turn, which annoys him even more, but for some weird reason, Lady Rhea doesn't seem to mind.

AG!Wise, Shamir catches her, Seteth and Flayn (and even that new merc who joined?) sleep in the Camulus Cathedral, when there'd be a ray of sun peering through the windows.

"They are all in deep religious meditation", says a random monk. Shamir knows better though, they're having a nap.

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

Alright know what here's a little Guild Wars 2 reblog game for everybody; what mounts (if any) do your characters have in their canon, do they have names? Personalities? How'd they meet??

Spill it all below, tell me about all your creatures!!

[capricornlevi]

nanami x reader - w.c 3k, marraige of convenience, mentions of societal pressure but everything is consensual!, nsfw, mdni!

without even meeting him, you agreed to marry nanami kento without any expectations of future love, romantic or otherwise.

the pairing is advantageous for the both of you; you get access to the impressive nanami family fortune that has grown substantially now that kento is managing it, while he gets to enjoy a close association with your prestigious family and the subsequent educational opportunities that your children will benefit from. it's sensible and by far the best option you'd been presented with.

you've exchanged letters with him, polite and concise. you can read between the lines and see that he shares a disillusioned view of jujutsu society, but is more than willing to step up for the good of his family.

you weren't coerced by anyone. far from it -- your mother and father had sat you down and asked if you were sure, that they would understand if you wanted to take more time or to choose a different path for yourself altogether.

but you know the rest of society would not be so kind or understanding. marriage between two sorcerers, as antiquated as it seems, is how you survive amongst all of these competitive, power-hungry families.

from what you've read and heard about him, nanami will provide stability. he's progressive in his thinking, and so wont expect anything from you that he wouldn't be willing to do as well. you've learned that he's a teacher at tokyo tech, and has received glowing reviews; he'll be a good father.

and so on this misty thursday morning, you lay eyes on your fiancé for the first time as he slips a ring on your finger and promises to stay by your side forever.

the ceremony is as bare-bones as your reputation will allow. the guest list doesn't hit the triple digits, a huge departure from society norms, but representatives from the major houses sit in floral-clad wooden chairs to watch you repeat the words that the officiant speaks in your direction.

nanami takes your hands in his. they're warm, which is nice. this dress isn't designed for November weather, but it's an heirloom -- and truthfully, you're glad to be wearing it. you'd never given much thought to a wedding, but it makes your mother and grandmother very happy.

you'd be lying if you said you weren't relieved to discover how handsome nanami is. you were previously shown a few polaroids of him -- staff pictures, mostly, but some with the rest of his family -- and had known he wasn't bad-looking, but the pictures weren't clear enough to give you a proper understanding of his looks.

his blond hair is styled neatly, not a hair out of place. he has nice features, strong jawline and cheekbones, and soft eyes, a good combination. you know his gaze can be piercing when he wants it to be, but now, he looks at you gently.

you know you made the right decision.

more vows, a kiss, and you're married.

___

the reception goes mercifully smoothly. the mix of guests -- powerful sorcerer family heads, rich businesspeople, and just a few of your personal friends -- didn't appear to gel too well on paper, but they mostly stick to their own factions. you greet them all until your vocal cords grow tired.

a meal is served on plates so ornate it makes you feel awkward eating off them. you nurse a glass of wine for most of the evening and nanami does the same, politely waving off the servers who approach to refill his glass.

a promising sign that he doesn't feel the need to drown his sorrows. this is a marriage of convenience, yes, but you'd like to be able to get along reasonably well with your spouse.

and, to his credit, he's been making light conversation with you all evening. he doesn't dip into deep or uncomfortable topics like your marriage or future plans, figuring that's best saved for later, but he asks you questions about yourself. by the end of the evening, you feel safe enough to allude to your desire for a future somewhat outside society's norms -- "I've always wanted to travel, honestly. maybe ... spend a few years abroad" -- and, to your pleasant surprise, he doesn't rebuff them. if anything, he seems somewhat pleased.

you have another glass of wine and before you know it, it's the early hours of the morning. you're nowhere near tipsy but feel ready for bed, ready to wipe off this makeup and slip into something more comfortable; thankfully, guests have started to slip out one by one, with only immediate family remaining.

your unpleasant and friendless older cousin makes a joke about you needing to say your goodbyes to 'go please your husband', and nanami's face sours for the first time all evening. your cousin notices and sheepishly takes a drink, mumbling something about it being his time to leave too.

with some final hugs to your respective families, it's time to leave with ...

... with your husband.

in his last letter before the wedding, nanami agreed that your city-centre apartment would be the best place to live in the first few weeks of your marriage, until you find somewhere more permanent that suits you both, and so that's where you go.

you show him around each room, including some storage space where his luggage had been delivered this morning. interspersed with some more small talk, you explain that although it's small, it's well placed for both of you to get to work. he smiles and nods, thanking you with a warmth that doesn't feel forced.

you offer him some tea or whiskey; he says he's fine.

you yawn. he loosens his tie, clearly exhausted himself.

the last room you show him is your bedroom, and it becomes harder and harder not to address the elephant in the room. there's very clearly no second bed, no room for him to stay that wouldn't necessitate a lot of closeness between the two of you.

the silence hangs heavy and loaded, both of you waiting for the other to speak.

well. this is one issue you hadn't covered before the ceremony.

you have no issue with a sexual relationship -- in fact, you're somewhat looking forward to it, having spent the evening admiring the way nanami's shirt hugs his strong arms and chest. but you're not sure if tonight, the first night you've ever met, is the best night to start.

sure, the concept of the wedding night speaks for itself, but it's not as black-and-white in your situation. he might want to spend some time settling in, first. he might not even be that interested in you.

"want me to take the couch?" he asks quietly, with no hint of resentment or offence in his voice. he makes the offer with a sincerity you haven't heard from a man in a long time.

you don't break your silence, but not because you're uncomfortable or anything of the sort -- you're just assessing your options.

"there's nothing i expect from you, just so you know," he continues, and you turn your head to face him, seeing his eyes scan your face for any sign of unease. "the last thing i want is for you to do ... this ... out of obligation or pressure. we have a lifetime to get to know each other, to reach that point -- i want you to be comfortable around me."

your upbringing has made you a sceptic, a pessimist at times, but for some reason, you believe him. maybe it's the look in his eyes, or the fact that he's taken your hand in his own, interlocking your fingers, but there's something about him that sets him aside from normal sorcerers.

he seems real. he seems as though, powers and fortunes and family names aside, he has some substance about him.

"do you want to?" you ask then, voice almost inaudible quiet from a day spent conversing with guests at your wedding.

he doesn't hear you, so he dips his head in your direction; you repeat yourself and wait, hoping you hadn't pressed the issue.

his composure doesn't crack, but something flashes in his eyes as he processes your question. he has such control over the movements of his features, over every expression in his body, except for his eyes, you think.

maybe you just happen to be good at reading him.

he mulls it over for a second, his grip on your hand never slacking.

"i want to," he finally admits. "i've wanted to for a while, truthfully. I've spent a lot of late nights picturing how it would feel to be inside you, to hear what my name sounds like when you say it. but i only want that if you want it too."

you smile without meaning to. "you imagined that from just reading a few letters?"

"yes, and it's a testament to my trust in my new wife that I'm telling you that," he replies, still polite but tinged with amusement.

it feels strange standing at your bedroom doorway, hand in hand with this almost-stranger, imagining what it would be like to indulge in these thoughts you've both been having, spending your first night together tangled up in the sheets and allowing some of the indulgence you've long denied yourself.

duty gets tiring. for a long time, you've been unsure what it feels like to genuinely want something.

now, you're pretty sure it feels something like this. it's organic and unforced, a natural desire that sends heat curling in the pit of your stomach.

wordlessly, you guide nanami into your room, closing the door behind you. there's a hint of a smile on his lips as you ask him for help to untie your wedding dress, the intricate pattern of buttons trailing up your spine proving too technical for your own hands. he's methodical in his work, careful to not damage the delicate clasps.

soon your dress is loose around your hips, your chest covered by the thin slip you wore underneath. you set the garment carefully aside before returning the favour and starting to undo nanami's shirt, avoiding eye contact as your hands expose more and more of his bare chest.

you want to do this, you know that for sure, but that doesn't mean you won't feel a bit of awkwardness at the start. you're not well practiced, having had too busy a life for romantic relationships until now. you hope that instinct will kick in sooner than later, but you've no doubt nanami will help you along the way.

when you finally build up the nerve to glance up at him as he shrugs off the shirt, he's looking at you as though you're the only person he ever wants touching him.

you hear the soft clink of metal and realise he's undoing his belt.

"are you sure?" he asks one more time.

that one question, and the earnestness with which he speaks, erases the last shred of doubt you had. you place your trust in him for the second time today.

you nod and reach across to his belt in the same breath, helping him pull it free from the loops to be tossed by the armchair near your desk.

you move as though controlled by something other than yourself, the decisions coming so naturally it feels as though you've been imagining it for weeks as well.

and maybe you have, you think to yourself, as you confidently guide him back slowly until he's sitting down on the plush armchair, his suit pants still on as you crawl onto his lap, pressing your chest against his. the thin fabric of your slip means you can feel the heat of his body against your skin, nipples hardening as they graze against his muscles.

you've just about balanced yourself, carefully perched on his lap when you feel his hand on the nape of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss that has you grinding against his thighs before you can even catch your breath.

you've never been kissed like this. the few kisses you've had before have been with partners who see you as a means to an end, be it for your family name, your reputation, or just for sex. you've never been kissed by someone who seems to get more from your pleasure than from his own.

you now know he meant it when he said he's been picturing this.

you kiss him for as long as you can, and you're not sure if it's for seconds, minutes, hours. you kiss him until there's a heat burning between your thighs you can no longer stand, that you need to have satiated by the visible, prominent bulge in the front of his suit pants.

when you finally break away, lips numb and kiss-slick, nanami's hair is touselled - you don't remember running your hands through them, but you must have at some point - and he reaches up to run his fingers under the straps of your slip, asking with his eyes if he can guide them off your shoulders.

you nod, and your chest is exposed to the cool night air for a split second before nanami's mouth is on one of your nipples, tongue circling the sensitive skin and making you cry out.

one of the words you moan must be his name, because you feel him smile as he turns his attention towards the other nipple, hands now at the small of your back to keep you close to him.

you can't take it much longer. you need to be touched so badly, you didn't even think you were capable of wanting it this much -- and you only want him to do it, now and maybe forever.

maybe he can read your mind or maybe you babbled out the request, but nanami finally takes pity on you, giving your nipple one final lick before resting his shoulders back against the cushion of the armrest and sliding his hands up your thighs, hooking your underwear with his fingers -- you lift your hips up to let him slip them off.

his composure slips further when he finally touches you between your legs, feeling how wet you've gotten for him, seeing how you react when he slips his index finger inside.

your head falls back and you hold a breath, focusing all of your attention on the sensation of him inside you, on the way he curls the digit ever-so-slightly before pulling it out and fucking you with two this time, almost -- almost -- tipping you over the edge.

"such a pretty wife," he mumbles almost under his breath, voice and gaze reverent as he watches you rock yourself against his hand. "my beautiful, perfect wife, aren't you?"

you want to answer him but can't, lungs feeling near-empty as you fumble with the buttons of his pants.

"i will never be able to think of anything else but you, i think," he muses, half-smiling. "you in my lap ... you making those pretty little noises ... i might be a ruined man, you know. and I'm glad of it."

he only stops speaking when you finally get your hand on his clothed cock, his breath catching in his throat as you trace it with your fingers.

you want tonight, the first of many times together, to start with you cumming on your husband's cock.

nanami just watches as you finally pull him out of his underwear, his length thick and hard in your hand as you give it a few messy strokes. it's all the both of you can manage before you need to have it inside you -- you shift your hips to sit on it, nanami's eyes fixed on the site of the head slipping inside.

it's a stretch, as you expected, but one you've been craving since you closed the bedroom door. you take him inch by inch, lowering yourself down as his breath quickens, clearly battling the urge to thrust up inside you.

but he's careful with you, and doesn't want to hurt you. his wife.

you lift yourself up too much and his cock slips out, slapping aginst his stomach and you nearly cry at the sudden emptiness, eager and clumsy as you guide him back inside you.

he kisses you when you sink down next, tongue massaging your own until the feeling of almost-too-full turns to a perfect, satisfying heat in your core.

eventually you're ready to quicken the pace, bouncing on his cock before long, your mind working too fast for you to keep up as you see nanami's cheekbones flush pink, his pupils dark as you ride him until your thighs ache.

you power through the sensation, nanami helping you along by meeting your hips with his, his thumb tracing uneven circles on your puffy clit. he calls you perfect and other beautiful words; you don't say anything besides more, more and, soon after, nearly there, nearly there, please, please, I'm so close --

your entire body lights up with the most wonderful sensation, hitting you like a wave and sweeping you away in its warm glow, with nanami's hands now on your hips, guiding your movements in exactly the way you need it -- not too hard, not too slow, not too fast.

you're still pulsing around him when you feel his body stiffen, his strong thighs tensing as he groans through gritted teeth. he pulls you in for a crushing kiss as he finishes, filling you up and thrusting as deep as he can until oversensitivity takes over.

the afterglow has you a contented and exhausted mess, muscles aching but satisfied in a way you'll spend forever seeking.

reluctantly, you slip off his cock to retake your place on his lap, marvelling at how undone you both have become, a far cry from your perfect wedding appearance.

you look perfect to him, though, you know as much from the kiss he presses to your sweaty forehead and the way his arm wraps around your shoulders.

"we didn't even make it to the bed," you observe, eyebrows raising as you finally return to your own body. "i ... wasn't expecting that."

"we have a lifetime to spend in bed," he replies, a smile in his voice.

and once again, for reasons you still don't understand, you believe him.

[inmaki]

gojo showing off your back scratches to geto

( cont from this fic! req, visual ) .

contains: sex talk, desc of back scratches, crack, sugu is called daddy once (as a joke.. right..)

everything was relatively peaceful in suguru's apartment. key word: relatively.

a forgettable yet appreciated sunday afternoon, not a cloud in sight despite the weather forecast predicting downpours of rain. either way, the raven-haired man insouciantly rested across his white couch, reaching the conclusion that today would be a day for self-care, relaxing, and perhaps some meditation.

there was only one thing ruining his peace.

all morning, suguru has been forced to try and ignore the stain a certain someone has left on his couch — a pair of unecessarily expensive yet dirty shoes being the culprit.

despite these attempts, every once in a while his gaze can't help but wander over at the mark — as if it'd poof out of existence if he glared hard enough.

"fuckin' asshole.." he mutters. it was a wonder his relationship with his best friend managed to stay so promising despite all their differences, yet suguru wouldn't have it any other way, even after situations like this.

right when he grumpily turns back to the tv — which was playing some crappy, low budget rom-com — his apartment door is yanked open and suguru swears he nearly jumps out of his seat.

great, was this it? was he about to get robbed, perhaps evicted? and then probably die? forced into the afterlife knowing gojo's shoe-shit was still on his new couch? no that can't—

"i fucked her!"

suguru whips his head towards the apartment door, announcement being disregarded as he nearly groans in agony. speak of the devil.

big blue eyes peak out from under circular sunglasses, one hand already raised in preparation for a dap up while his stupid, big, dirty shoe pushes the door closed behind him. gojo wears a black compression shirt with grey sweats, marching over to his friend with a ginormous grin across his cheeks.

"take your shoes off, now," suguru snaps, nodding to his friend's feet with a frown.

"yeesh... whatever y'say, daddy," the bastard never loses his smile as his hands raise in surrender, kicking them off by the door smoothly. "what's got your panties in a twist?"

geto pinches his nose bridge. "don't call me that," as he continues the scolding, he points to the living room with his free hand. "you got a mystery stain on my couch, satoru. do you know how many youtube videos i watched trying to get this shit off?"

unphased, gojo takes a look at the strangely colored blob against the armrest's leather material and shrugs. "my bad. did you try febreeze?"

"what— no? dude, febreeze is for.." when suguru looks back up to sourly meet his gaze, he could immediately tell the white-haired man was already drifting back into la-la-land, words going in one ear and out the other. "..nevermind. why're you here?"

at the reminder, satoru seemingly brightens, head shooting back up as if he was just told he'd won the lottery.

"oh god, don't make that stupid face—" he pauses. "the fuck are you doing?" suguru might as well say goodbye to his self-care day, because now gojo was stripping in the middle of his living room, shirt thrown haphazardly onto the still-very-much-stained couch.

"just look!" suguru squints as his friend swivels around to face the wall, pushing his bangs away to get a better view of the— oh shit.

it takes the raven-haired man a second to process what he's seeing before shuffling forward, closely examining the achingly red, bulging scratch marks displayed sexily across the latter's back and shoulders. "no way.."

suguru knows the strongest sorcerer well enough to notice how he purposely didn't use reversed cursed technique on these scratches, just so it'd be obvious to anyone that caught a glimpse of what exactly occured. to his further dismay, he can already picture a smug and sweaty gojo walking around their local gym like this, proud simper on his pretty lips as he easily raises a pair of weights in his veiny hands.

a hiss escapes geto's mouth as he runs his finger down a particularly agitated one, knowing exactly how painful they could be after experiencing many hook-ups of his own. even so, satoru only licks his lips, neck craning to the side so he can pride himself in his friend's gobsmacked expression.

"damn, these are deep. you actually hit it?" suguru confirms, raising a celebratory hand.

turning back around, satoru daps him up, a massive smirk now on both their faces. "hell yeah, it was amazing."

it was impossible to predict what gojo would do next after barging through his front door — especially considering how many times he's done so — but this has to be the last thing suguru ever expected.

not that he was complaining — in fact, all of geto's temper and need for relaxation seemingly flew out the window, the feeling of proudness for his best friend overthrowing anything else.

and even if he hated to admit it, the way gojo was so eager to come over and announce his virginity loss to him was more than a little endearing, and dare he say cute.

"that's great, man. congrats." suguru leads him into the kitchen — still shamelessly shirtless — to grab them both a can of beer in celebration. while the white-haired man usually didn't get involved with any form of alcohol, this occasion was most definitely exception-worthy. "you made y/n cum too, right?"

an offended glare is shot his way. "duh, two times."

"huh. surprised you could last."

as suguru pours their drinks into two fragile cups, gojo exhales, not bothered in the slightest by his jab. "dude, same.." he admits dreamily. "she was so fuckin' tight and warm.. and oh— fuck, her moans? heavenly.. 'can't believe i didn't bust after the first minute.."

geto gulps, trying his best to ignore the mental image his brain was producing from his dirty words. you can't blame him — both of you were smoking hot, and he was a simple man.

even now, he could already imagine what you both looked like; panting and moaning, skin-slapping so loud that it echoed through the whole room, how blissed out you'd look as gojo's cock split you in t—

satoru's playful sigh cuts through the tensing air. "who knows sugs, maybe you'll have another kind of stain to worry about next time we're over~"

he's never snapped out of a daydream so quickly. "don't even joke about that."

over the next hour, the two men sat manspread on the stained couch, taking leisure sips while recalling satoru's final moments as a virgin — suguru giving out his secret tips and tricks along the way.

maybe sometime, suguru could offer some.. hands-on learning instead.

mlist! <- sugu.. how could u think abt ur bestie and his gf like that... tsk tsk tsk (if u enjoyed reblogs/comments r appreciated heheh)

© inmaki on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not cross-post, translate, copy in any way, etc.

[yzzart]

౨ৎ⊹. BOYFRIEND!KENJI HEADCANONS!

── content warnings: F!reader, mention of Emiko, Emi and Mina, Ultraman form, Kenji being a little needy (once again), fluff, a little something to warm our hearts and minds so dreamy.

── word count: 683!

⭑.ᐟ Underneath, and sometimes over, tight-fitting t-shirts and extremely expensive fabrics, wear a necklace; however, there is something special there. — His promise ring hangs on the gold chain; like a talisman, something that surrounds he with luck and passion. — Staying attached and close to you, even with a small object.

⤷ If he needs to think or try to decide something dramatically important and you're not around, Sato will take his fingers to the necklace and hold the ring; looking for guidance. — Oh, and waking up, before him, and contemplating that shiny and significant piece, which rests on his broad chest, is angelic.

⭑.ᐟ It's not uncommon to feel, in the middle of the night, Kenji's face trying, persistently, on your neck; readily, wanting to harness the huge and strong body between your. — He doesn't care about the grotesque difference in size, just at that moment, and he doesn't give up.

“Kenji, be careful…!” — Your voice, fully, drunk with sleep and maintaining stillness, murmured between the boy's black and shiny locks; who only responded with a snore, more like a purr and clinging even tighter to you.

⭑.ᐟ Sato can't keep his hands off you, no matter what's going on, what you're doing or what simple task you're performing; hands on your waist, kisses on every exposed and revealed part of your body, thin and wide fingers catching on some part of your clothes. — Don't be upset with him, this poor man is in love with you.

⤷ One day, Mina compared him to a sloth and obviously got a frown of disapproval and the adorable Emi observes how her “father” remains so attached to her “mother”. — Even laughing and grunting when he saw a completely sleepy and desperate Ken crawling towards you.

⭑.ᐟ Please, we have, we need to talk about all the times Kenji and Emi train together, most of the time, being just leisure moments, you sit in the stands, virtually, scheduled and cheer for them; accompanied by Mina. — The feeling of nostalgia, remembering an incredible part of his life, is exposed in Ken's chest; remembering his mother.

⭑.ᐟ I can easily imagine Ken pressing his nose against your cheek or neck wanting your attention; also, when he wants to show you the way Emi is sleeping, enjoying the baby's sweetness. — And, together, pressing his forehead against yours during countless moments of the day and night, when you get home after confronting some creature and every time he want to say "i love you" to you.

⭑.ᐟ This man knows you like the back of his hand; no one can disagree or dispute this fact. — Kenji pays attention to your gestures, noticing your body language and, for a matter of seconds, he knows that something is bothering you; and, there he is, dedicating himself, with all his attention, to doing his girl well.

⭑.ᐟ Funny situations, for Ken, between you and his Ultraman form are included in your lives. — Once, while chasing Aboras, he ended up finding you on the street, wanting to go home, and clearly he was distracted by wanting to cause a provocation. — Mina gave the boy a long, and rightly so, scolding.

“Go back to the house, young lady.” — The robotic voice filled a part of the city's environment, wanting to convey an authoritarian image. — “You know…” — He pointed one of his gigantic fingers in your direction, then towards the place he was. — “The streets have been very dangerous lately.” — Oh, you stopped yourself from answering him like you really wanted to.

“Thank you, so much, for the advice, Ultraman.”

⭑.ᐟ There are nights — many, many nights — that Ken spends watching, contemplating you sleeping, peacefully; your face remained full, without signs of tiredness, exquisite and messy locks spread out, this was adored by the player's eyes. — Between seconds of fascination, Kenji longed, dreamed, deeply and painfully, of his mother meeting you; this way, she would have the chance to know the light that raised her dear son.

⤷ Kenji prospers, sometimes praying, that one day his mother will return, safe and sound, and be able to achieve what he wants so much in his life.

[ambros1an]

sunday x reader - halovian courtship

warning: no spoilers, gn! reader, pining/soft sunday, Sunday info dumping as usual

summary: where Sunday will do everything except confess, and you just think he’s emotionally stunted.

a/n: i read about birds for this

halovian courting rituals

1. Gift giving. Like their close bird companions, Halovians participate in 'nuptial gifts,' a form of gift giving to a potential partner.

You were walking into the Oak Family Headquarters, Dewlight Pavilion, sent to deliver some letters. Although, you’ve been here before, it was still a bit nerve wracking to be in such a place, undetached from your usual position as a lower end employee.

The entrance to Oak Family Head’s office was right in front of you. You bite your lip, shifting the documents to your other arm and knock.

“Nightingale Famil-“

The door swings open. The family head holding the door stands to the side.

“Ah,” Sunday says your name, “it’s you.”

Your eyes widen, blinking a couple times. He remembers me?

“Yes, it’s nice to see you again Mr. Sunday. I’ve come with documents from the Nightingale family detailing a new plan for the dreamscape.”

He looks a bit disappointed?

He chuckles, then calls out to a lone employee, “you’re dismissed for today, I’ll take care of the rest.”

The Oak employee dips his head and leaves. Watching him leave fills a pit in your stomach.

“Mr. Sunday, is something wrong?”

Sunday sits up suddenly, “Oh, no. Not at all.” It’s that movement that makes you realize that he’s been fidgeting with something in his lap…Is he always like this?

“I guess I was just a bit surprised,” he smiles, looking down to the side. You caught him.

“Surprised? To see me?” Although Sunday and you have met a few times. It was always business, just like now—well maybe he did stare a bit intently at you before, but something really was different this time!

He looks up and sheepishly slides a box across the table. “Take it as…being a good part of The Family.”

For a few moments, your eyes set upon him. What is he planning? It’s a small box. Almost nothing could fit in there. You lift the top up.

You gasp. Earrings worth more than your entire life’s salary. You slam it shut.

“M-Mr. Sunday. This really isn’t necessary. I just—“ you ramble on. Sunday places his gloved hand on yours.

“Please, take it.”

Looking into his eyes, you realize that putting up a fight with the Oak Head won’t get you anywhere. You reluctantly take the box.

2. Preening. Similar to nature, touching a Halovian's wings is an intimate gesture to show one's interest in a romantic partner. Someone should never touch a Halovian's wings without asking!

Soon after, you come across Sunday again. This time at the Nightingale Family’s institution. You were putting away blueprints, plans and documents your coworkers left laying around haphazardly. When a familiar voice calls out to you.

“Good evening. Working hard, I see.”

“Mr. Sunday?”

He approached you, then looked around the room. He seemed to realize the situation you were in and scorned your coworkers. He mumbled something about you and moving to the “Oak Family.” As he spoke his wings were fluttering. They looked smooth and soft.

“You’ve been staring at my wings. Do they interest you that much?” He chuckles.

“Well, they are very pretty but—“

“Would you like to touch them?” A light blush spreads across his face. Despite that, he seemed perfectly poised. His hands clasped behind his back, standing straight and looking right at you.

“I-is that alright?” tumbles from your lips. You hesitantly reach out.

“I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”

Upon touching them, Sunday’s wings twitched away from you before settling down. The feathers are soft and plush. Some are darker in color while others are more pale. They’re surprisingly fluffy. A bit like fur but more delicate.

The blush darkened, his gaze shifted off to the wall. His composure utterly broken, his hands fidgeted behind his back.

“Did you know that birds groom each other as a social activity? It occurs between…ma-members of a flock.” He sputters. What is he saying?

Your fingers stroking his feathers create a flutter within his stomach. He leans into the touch. Taking that as a sign to continue, you reach farther up, a light brush into the coverts of his feathers. Sunday gasps and pulls away.

“…You must take good care of them. Are all Halovian wings soft like yours?”

He wishes that moment would never end.

3. Song. During courtship rituals many birds of different species tend to sing and dance. While that is popular among Halovian people, some may chose show affection through instruments instead.

One day, a notice appears at your door. Upon examining it you realize it’s an invitation from Sunday, instructing you to his office within the Dewlight Pavilion.

Could it be about the documents you sent him last time? You wrack your brain for any possible explanation. He had been acting weirder than usual.

Heat build up in your face upon recalling Sunday’s recent appreciation for you. The earrings that are far too expensive to wear anywhere, and even worse—you bury your face into your hands. In a profound display of unprofessionalism, he let you touch his wings.

Still, every muscle in your body jittered with excitement, even though it shouldn’t.

♫ ♬ ♩

Suddenly, the closer you got, the more the hallway echoed with the sound of a violin. Slowly, you carefully stepped towards the sound, till you found its source.

Sunday was playing the violin. You couldn’t help but freeze where you were and watch him. He truly did look like angel. As he drew his bow across the strings, the light from the window shined down on him. His hair reflected the light appearing almost white. Was he always this beautiful?

Abruptly, he stands up, “You’re early. Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” you closed the door behind you, “I didn’t know you could play. What song was it?”

He places the violin down on his table and approached you, “It’s ‘Salut d’amor,’ one of the first pieces I learned how to play,” Sunday put his hand behind his back, “the dream master was the one that taught me.”

“It was very pretty, I can tell you’ve been playing for a long time.”

“Thank you.” A light blush spreads onto his cheeks, but it’s gone before you can realize it.

A loud silence sweeps the room. The two of you avert your eyes. This side of Sunday feels so different from what you’ve been told. He always maintains a professional barrier. But if so, what was this?

Sunday calls your name, “how do you feel about me?”

“What?” The question is so out of the blue, you must’ve heard wrong, “I think you’re a nice guy—“

“I meant as a partner, I thought you knew. Was I not obvious enough?” He mumbles over the last sentence.

“I—well—“ you stumble over your words. He was serious. The earrings, the wing touching, the invitation. You dismissed it as him buttering you up. The ‘most handsome man in Penacony’ as delegated by the latest magazines, had feelings for you?

Your face felt so hot, you felt as if you could combust into flames at any moment, “I feel the same.”

His expression softened. “That’s a relief, I don’t have to cancel those reservations then.”

“Reservations?! Mr. Sunday-“

“Just Sunday. I’ll pick you up later then,” he smiled, then placed his hand near your ear, as if looking for something, “Oh, but this time remember to wear those earrings.”

a/n #2: soft Sunday is real, did u see how protective he was of Robin in the quest? i need more hoyo. feed my delusion

[lovesculprit]

Kinktober Day 6 - Cockwarming with Zayne

contains: nsfw content:(mdni), fempov, pnv (unprotected), creampie, cockwarming, brief mentions of wedding ring whilst fingering ˚₊‧ for more kinktober here - wc: 2.7k

a/n: this is honestly just very soft, can you tell i miss writing fluff?

You sat on the sofa, legs covered by a blanket, while Zayne limped in from the kitchen. The usual composure in his features was softened by the bandages circling his arm and ribs.

He had insisted on making the tea despite your protests, his stubbornness swelling both pride and unease in you.The sight of him moving carefully, his brow slightly furrowed in pain, reminded you just how fragile he could be, despite his strength.

“Hey,” you said softly, putting down your book as he sank onto the couch beside you. “You’re not supposed to be doing much. How are you feeling?”

“Better than I look,” he replied with a faint smile, his voice lacking conviction. “Just a bit sore.” He settled back against the cushions, letting out a quiet sigh as he eased into a more comfortable position.

You leaned in closer, hand finding his as the other trailed along his jaw, brushing your fingers gently across it. “You really should rest. You’re gonna push too hard and your body needs to heal.”

Zayne leaned into your touch, relishing in your warmth. “I just hate feeling…useless,” he admitted. “Sitting around doesn’t feel right.”

“It’s not useless if it’s what you need to get better,” you countered softly, your heart aching for him. You wanted to protect him, to ensure he took the time to recover properly. “Just let yourself relax for now.”

He opened his eyes, locking his gaze with yours. There was a softness there, a vulnerability that made your breath hitch. “What do you suggest we do, then?”

You tilted your head, a smile creeping onto your lips. “How about we just stay here? We can watch a movie or talk…order a  takeaway?”

Zayne smiled and there was a spark in his eyes that made your heart race. “Or…” he trailed off, his expression shifting as he moved closer to you too, “We could do something else…” he mumbles, hand moving to your thigh.

You looked up at him at the implication of his words. You were no stranger to the passion between you, or how high his sex drive seemed to be, but you definitely weren’t expecting it with his injuries, it felt different. “You were told not to, we shouldn’t, can’t.”

His lips curved into a gentle smile, one that held more tenderness than desire. “I know,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “I’m not asking for too much tonight” He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “I just want to be close to you.”

The raw sincerity in his words melted away your resistance. You shifted, leaning into him as he gently pulled you closer, wrapping his good arm around your waist and guiding you to straddle him. His movements were slow, careful, mindful of his injuries, but he held you as tightly as he could manage without wincing.

You nestled into the warmth of his body, resting your head against his shoulder, the steady beat of his heart comforting against your ear. But of course when he said he wanted to be close to you, he didn’t just mean cuddling on the sofa and you were quickly made aware of that fact when his fingers slid from your waist downwards, tracing the edge of your panties.

Zayne’s touch was delicate, almost reverent as he pulled your panties aside and though he was injured you knew better than to argue, after all, he was stubborn when he wanted something. There was a softness in his actions—a slowness that spoke of both tenderness and restraint. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin as he leaned closer, his lips brushing your temple in a quiet, unspoken promise of care.

You closed your eyes, letting out a soft sigh as his fingers traced slow, languid circles against your clit. His movements were gentle, cautious, as though mindful of his own pain but focused entirely on your pleasure. His ring finger slid along your folds, the cold metal making you shiver as he pulled back slightly to admire the view of his ring disappearing inside your waiting hole.

You felt his body relax against yours, the tension easing from his shoulders, "Just wanna be inside you. Can I? Please-" he murmured, his voice low and husky against your ear. The question was filled with genuine love, and the sound of it sent a shiver down your spine.

You nodded, unable to form words, your breath hitching as his fingers continued their slow exploration. Your hands wandered his skin, fingers dancing across his collarbone before settling on the back of his neck, pulling him closer. His lips found yours in a kiss that was as tender as it was intense, the heat between you simmering just below the surface.

He shifted slightly, careful not to aggravate his injuries, his hand moving to cup your cheek as he deepened the kiss. You could feel the gentle pressure of his fingers against your skin, grounding you in the moment, even as his other hand continued its slow, deliberate strokes, building your pleasure with every gentle circle of his thumb.

Your breath caught in your throat as your body tensed up, but his touch wasn’t rushed. It was as though he wanted to savour every minute, take his time with you. His lips parted from yours long enough for him to whisper against your skin, "I love you," before trailing soft kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck.

His hand finally moved down to his pants and with no hesitation in his movements, he quickly tugged them down past his hips so that he could pull his cock out. It wasn’t thick, but it was long and pretty, the tip glistening already from his pre. His eyes snapped back to yours, searching for any sign of hesitation, and when you gave him a soft, reassuring nod, his body relaxed.

Carefully, you lifted your hips, enough for him to settle his cock at the perfect angle as he positioned himself at your entrance. He couldn’t stop himself from tapping the head on your pussy, smirking at the sound it caused.

Slowly you lowered yourself down onto him, taking it inch by inch as his breaths came in soft, shaky gasps, leaning into you as he entered you slowly. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of heat and tenderness as he filled you completely.

The sound of his quiet groan as he buried himself inside you only made your heart ache with affection for him. You could feel the strain in his muscles, the way his body was fighting to keep moving despite his injuries, but he never wavered in his gentleness. His hands gripped your hips lightly, holding you in place as he was so tempted to move.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice breathless, his forehead resting against yours as he slowly began to, his pace steady and controlled.

You steadied his hips, stopping his movements,  “Let’s just stay like this, okay?” you whispered, “I don’t want you making your injuries worse.”

"Of course," he whispered, his voice tender, filled with understanding. His body stilled, the intensity between you shifting into something even more intimate, more comforting. His arms wrapped gently around you, pressing your bodies together, skin to skin, with no need for hurried movement or frantic passion.

You felt the warmth of him wrap itself around you, the cadence of his breathing smoothing your own. The nearness, the fact that you merely existed together, was enough to cause your chest to ache with emotion. His injuries were still on your mind, but right now it was just the two of you together, safe.

You laid your head against his shoulder, your fingers tracing along the bandages wrapped around his arm. The way he was holding you, despite the pain, said so much about how he cared. He wasn't just desperate to be physically close; he needed you with him in a way more profound than words could say.

His hand wandered down your back, lighter than a feather, as if he was committing the feel of you to memory, relishing the quiet moment between you both. There wasn't any hurry for anything else, it was just you two, wrapped up in each other's presence.

"Thank you-," he whispered, his voice low enough that it was barely there. “For everything.”

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. “You don’t have to thank me,” you murmured, your voice warm and tender.

Zayne held you close, his body warm and solid against yours, but you could feel the tension in his muscles, the careful way he was holding back, resisting the urge to move. The heat between your bodies was palpable; the connection between you two was so strong that even in the stillness every slight shift of his hips sent a ripple of pleasure through you. He was buried inside you, and though he wasn't moving, the feeling of being so intimately connected, so deep inside you was overwhelming.

You could feel the slight trembling in his arms as he resisted the urge to thrust, tension in his breathing as he concentrated on making his movements slow, measured. His forehead leaned against yours, the heat of his breath against your lips with every shaky exhale. He wanted to move-you could feel it in the way his body responded to yours, the way his fingers tightened slightly on your hips-but he was holding himself back, determined not to push too far, not to aggravate his injuries.

“I’m trying,” he whispered, his voice low and ragged, barely above a breath. “But god it’s really- really hard- especially when you keep clenching around me.”

“I’m sorry- can’t help it-” you mumbled as you shifted slightly, adjusting your hips enough to feel him even deeper inside you, and a soft groan escaped his lips. His hands gripped your waist tighter for a moment, his body trembling with the effort to stay still. The pleasure between you simmered, slow and sweet, the tension in the air thickening as you both savoured the closeness, the quiet intensity of the moment.

His breath hitched as you pressed yourself against him, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you. You could feel how much he wanted to move, how much he wanted to lose himself in you, and fuck you properly like he wanted to, but he was holding back with a kind of tenderness that made your heart swell. His body was warm, solid, and yet so vulnerable beneath your touch.

“I want to,” he murmured, his voice tight with desire, “So badly, just slowly, please-”

His confession, raw and honest, sent another shiver through you. You could feel how hard he was trying to resist the urge to move, to hold back, and that only made the pleasure between you burn hotter. 

“You were ordered not to, you should know that better than anyone. Didn’t think you’d ignore medical advice-” you teased, a knowing smile on your face.

Even as he tried to hold himself still, every tiny movement—every shift of your bodies together—was enough to send waves of pleasure coursing through you. The intensity of his presence, the way his body was wrapped around yours, was almost too much to bear. Each subtle twitch, each breathless sigh, sent shivers of heat rolling through you, building slowly but surely.

He clutched at you, fingers digging into your skin like he was holding on for dear life, as though the pleasure was too intense to keep bottled up. "Feels… too good," he whispered, his voice rough, the words barely audible through his ragged breaths. "But I—" Another whimper broke free from his throat, his hips jerking involuntarily.

His body betrayed him, instinctively seeking more, despite the fatigue that was clearly wearing him down. His resistance only made the heat between you grow fiercer, feeding off his vulnerability, his soft sounds of helpless surrender to the sensations wracking his body.

Zayne’s breath hitched as another soft whimper escaped him, his body trembling against yours. “It’s been too long,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion, his words tumbling out as if he couldn't control them. “I haven’t felt you like this… in so fucking long.” His tone was filled with raw vulnerability, his exhaustion evident, but it was as if the floodgates had opened, and he couldn’t stop himself from speaking.

“I missed you,” he admitted, his voice almost a rasp now, punctuated by breathless gasps. “I didn’t realise how much—how much I needed this. How much I needed you.” His fingers tightened around your skin, like he was afraid you might slip away, his desperation palpable. 

“It’s too much, I—” Another broken sound slipped from him, his hips stuttering against yours as he pressed closer, like he was trying to fuse your bodies together, his cock twitching at every clench of your walls, your pussy sucking him in for all he’s worth, even as the two of you both tried to remain still.

“Stop doing that- I’m too sensitive right now- god-” His words came out in a frantic rush now, like he was unravelling beneath you, his carefully composed exterior finally crumbling.

Another quiet whine left his throat as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, surrendering completely to the feeling of your pussy gripping him like a vice, like you were doing it on purpose. He couldn’t help the low groan that escaped as Zayne’s breath came in ragged gasps, his body trembling against yours as he clung to you, biting down on your shoulder as his orgasm hit him.

It felt as though fireworks were going through him, his thighs shaking as he came, unable to hold back and whining at the sensitivity when you moved your hips slightly, prolonging the feeling as he sat back and let you.

"I..." His voice was barely above a whisper, muffled against your skin. “I didn't mean for that to happen that fast." He leaned back some, his face flushed, the faintest shade of pink climbing up his neck to his cheeks. "We weren't even really-”

Zayne's eyes darted away, the embarrassment palpable in every subtle movement of his body. His hands, which had been so sure and desperate before, rested now light on your skin, almost hesitant. You could feel the tension radiate from him as he was waiting for you to say anything, unsure how to handle the raw vulnerability that he had just let on.

You reached up, your fingers delicately cupping his cheek as you guided his eyes back to yours. His breath hitched, but he didn't pull away this time. The softness in his gaze was still there, lingering beneath the surface of his embarrassment, and you gave him a small smile.

"It's alright," you whispered, your voice low and soothing, the words filling in the space between the two of you with their warmth. "I'm glad I could help… even if only a little."

For one brief second, the tension in his body loosened, and his shoulders sagged when the weight of your words sank deep into him. His eyes softened a little more; the flush was still there on his cheeks, but for now, there was a flicker of something else-something akin to gratitude laced with relief.

Zayne exhaled, the breath shaky but less burdened now, and he leaned into your touch, his forehead resting gently against yours. “You always do,” he murmured, his voice quiet and full of unspoken emotion, as though the weight of everything he'd kept inside had finally lifted, if only a little. “Do you want me to help you-”

You interrupted him before he could even finish his sentence, “No- Just wanted to make you feel better.” you reassured softly as you leaned in to kiss him.

“I love you so much.” he whispered against your lips as he pulled you as close as physically possible.

“I love you too.”

taglist:

@yuhig-blog @psychedellyc @char-35 @yowumi

@kaeyeahsworld @sukunadckrider @veraiku

© lovesculprit - do not copy or translate any of my works

[tojipie]

toji x crybaby reader <3

content: hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, smut under the cut !

˚ ✧ ───────────

toji is a flawed man. 

short-tempered, married to his money, slow to show affection. but the one thing he does excel at is comforting you.

he knows you’re a sensitive girl, knows just how easy it is for you to get teary-eyed and red in the face over comments that otherwise seem like nothing to the untrained ear. 

you have a kind heart is all, too giving to a world that only knows how to take. he tells you that every time you break down in his arms, thick hands rubbing circles into the small of your back.

his father would have slapped him across the face for crying. called him soft, whiney like a girl. put him to work for the rest of the day to shape him into a man.

he wasn’t his father though, and you weren’t a zenin.

you were soft in the best way, tender-hearted and too trusting. a daisy among weeds, swaying idly in the too-strong wind. nothing like a zenin, nothing like him. 

he hadn’t the faintest clue what to do the first time he’d seen you get upset, standing there in the kitchen like a fool while you babbled on the phone with his bank.

it was a fraudulent charge, small, maybe only 10 dollars. probably dropped his card while paying for gas again, not the end of the world. the customer service rep assured you that much.

it was the principal, you sobbed. you’d lost his card and hadn’t even noticed. why wasn’t he upset with you?

he doesn’t know why he didn’t just tell you it was okay. that he didn’t have it in him to ever be cross with you, be it a ten-dollar charge or a thousand-dollar charge. 

instead he wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling your body flush with his to press soft kisses to the crown of your head.

you were warm there, warm everywhere really. the thrum of your blood heating your skin from the inside out. toji liked that about you, how you offset the perpetual cold of his much larger hands. 

physical touch was something he knew well. toji wasn’t—still isn’t good with words, opting to stay silent and just hold you while you sniffled into the receiver. he got the message across, he always does.

his methods are unorthodox for that very reason. he doesn’t comfort you with his tone, he does it with his body. whether it be thick arms squeezing you until you get your breathing under control, large hands tracing shapes into your tummy until you stop spluttering, or toned legs splaying wide to let you crawl into his lap, resting on him until your bodies reach the same temperature.

toji fucks you on your good days, likes to tease you, get you squirming. the key difference is that he makes sweet love to you on your bad ones. holding you flush to his chest while he rocks into you under the safety of your shared blankets.

you feel like a furnace under him every time, heat radiating off your body and into the deeper parts of his soul. 

he gets mouthy once the feeling of you wrapped around him flicks that little switch in his brain. turning off the mental barrier between him and his inability to use his words. 

“sweet girl,” is what he calls you, eyes never leaving yours. 

“gotta stay close to me, gotta keep you safe, huh?”

and keep you safe he does, tucking your face into the curve of his neck so you don’t have to look anywhere but him. letting you moan, and pant, and sigh into his skin while he rocks against that special spot situated deep in your core.

he goes harder when you ask him to. not faster, but harder—he knows the difference, letting the resistance in his hips subside so he can sink to the hilt over and over. 

the juxtaposition makes his head spin. how do you manage to sound so sweet while asking for something like that? able to melt his heart even on the brink of orgasm.

you kiss him when he fills you up, letting him sink on top of you with a huff and a shy laugh. he listens as you open up about the good parts of your day, his soft hums of agreement spurring you on.

toji wishes he was taught to articulate himself better. he’s trying, he really is. though the “i love you” he says into your skin seems like his best shot at a start. 

[gyaruhana]

pls write for thanos with hatefucking… like that man has that potential after seeing how he talks to the other contestants

Thanos/Choi Su-Bong - Hatefucking

Synopsis: You and Thanos hate each other and, no matter how many death threats he sends your way, you never listen. So he decides that, if threats don't work, maybe you need to be fucked instead.

A/N: wrote this in like two hours max so it may not be the best but I tried anyway !! I love Thanos so much and hatefuck with him has me thirstyy

Warnings: smut, penetrative sex, blowjob, degradation, thanos is a little meanie and you're sassy

If there was one thing that could be said for sure about Thanos, it's that he was a total fucking dickhead. 

From the very first game you played in this hellhole, he had been nothing but a problem. He skipped around like he owned the place and had no problem with sacrificing a few people. Not to mention, he was loud. So annoyingly loud. 

Unfortunately for you, he seemed to really hate you too. Maybe it was the fact you kept glaring at him like he did something or the way you'd make some sort of sarcastic comment every time he spoke. Whatever the reason, the feeling was mutual. He hated you. You hated him. That was the end of it.

Well, it should've been. 

As if some divine being took joy in your pain, Thanos walked up to you while you were alone with an angry look - clearly having something to say to you. You could guess he was going to try to threaten you into choosing to continue the games next vote since you had chosen not to.

“Yo. It'd be in your best interest to choose the blue button. It's really pissing me off when you keep pressing that red x button every time,” he spoke as he looked down at you from where you sat.

“Or what?” You say as you stand up and look at him with disdain. You weren't about to let this idiot try to scare you into doing what he wants. You weren't his slave. “Or I'll fucking kill you,” he says as he steps closer with a look that seemed like he meant it. Honestly, you didn't doubt that he was telling the truth. He's been killing people since the first game and it certainly won't be any different for you.

“Ooh, scary,” you say sarcastically before pushing past him. You didn't get far before he grabbed your wrist and turned you around, pulling you close to him. “You don't think I'll do it? Cause you'd be wrong,” he says as he looks at you dead in the eyes. You harshly pulled your wrist away from his grip and gave him a scoff.

“You're too much of a pussy to do shit. The only thing that gives you confidence are those dumb little pills you take,” you say as you look at him, challenging him to say something else.

It was quiet as you two just stared at each other, both silently praying for the other's death. He lets out an annoyed huff before finally breaking eye contact to look to the side. Without another word, he pushes past you and walks back to the other side of the room where the rest of the people who wanted to continue playing the game were. If that idiot really thought he could sway you, he'd soon learn you aren't swayed by death threats from high dumbasses.

When it came time to vote, you could feel Thanos staring you down. You turned your head to look back at him with an eyebrow raised and he turned his head away. You could see the annoyance all over his face. 

One by one, each player went up and placed their vote. The numbers were quite even and it was hard to tell who'd end up victorious in this vote. When it was Thanos's turn to vote, he made a point of stopping right behind you before he walked down.

“Remember what I said earlier. I'll kill you,” he whispers before walking past and skipping down towards the buttons. He kissed the blue button before walking over to the corresponding side but he was looking straight at you.

You ignored his hard glare and walked down to the buttons. You raised your hand and, no surprise, pressed the red button. You turned to him and flipped him off with a small smirk before walking off to the other side. 

For a moment, you actually thought you'd get away with that because it seemed that more people wanted to leave now. However, that was not the case as the result ended up being a tie.

Great. You were stuck here for longer. You definitely wouldn't be able to avoid Thanos if you were stuck here till tomorrow. He didn't seem to walk up to you immediately. It was like he was waiting for the right time to strike. All he did was stare at you from across the room as if he was formulating the most brutal way to tear you limb by limb. And, wow, he stared at you for a very long time. 

It wasn't until there were 5 minutes before lights out did he come to you. You were all by yourself in a corner and no one seemed to be paying much attention. They were all so busy in their own whispered conversations.

“Hey, it seems you didn't understand me the first time,” he says as he grabs you by your shirt and pushes you against the wall behind you. “I said I'd kill you if you pressed the red button,” he continues as he looks at you with annoyance.

“Go ahead then. Kill me,” you say as you look at him with a small smirk. He might have already killed a few people but you didn't believe he'd have the guts to kill people outside of the games.

He was quiet. All he did was stare. It was as if he was calculating some thoughts. He looked toward the timer on the wall before looking back at you.

“You're fucking unbearable,” he speaks before he's suddenly slamming his lips against yours. You didn't expect this move. You expected him to stab you or choke you - not kiss you.

You push him away with a glare. You couldn't be kissing this idiot. You hated him and he was fucking stupid. But even with that hate, there was something about the way he kissed you that had you thinking twice.

Fuck, you were doing this. 

You pulled him in by his collar and pressed your lips against his. There was nothing romantic about this kiss. It was pure hate. Just angry, rough kissing as if it would solve anything. His hands were all over your body before they finally decided to settle on your hips with a tight grip. He pulled away before starting to leave kisses along your neck. He wasn't gentle at all. He was biting you as if he wanted to draw blood.

“You're such a fucking bitch. Always acting so smug. I'm gonna shut you the fuck up,” he says as his hand goes to your hair before yanking it back roughly to give him better access to your neck. 

“You're the fucking bitch. Always walking around like you own the place,” you say back and in response he bites your neck hard making you wince slightly at the pain. “watch your fucking mouth,” he spoke as he pulled away and wrapped a hand around your throat. As if on cue, the lights suddenly turned off leaving you two in the dark.

He let out a small laugh as it went dark before he removed the hand on your hip and instead started pulling your pants down. 

“I'm gonna fuck you till you learn you're not in control, I am,” he says before pulling his own pants down. He wasn't going to play nice or take it easy. Not when you hadn't played nice with him. 

“You think you can fuck me into submission? You're way too fucking cocky,” you say with a quiet laugh, finding it amusing how he thought you'd fold once he started fucking you. “We’ll see,” he says, his grip around your throat tightening to shut you up. He pulled his boxers down slightly, enough to let his dick out, before he pushed your panties to the side.

“I'm gonna show you not to fuck with me again,” he whispers into your ear as he lines himself up with your entrance. Without another word, he starts slowly thrusting himself in till he's all the way inside you.

“You're such a fucking whore,” he says as he starts to pull out before thrusting in again with one stroke. He kept a pace of being fast and hard as if trying to make you feel his hate on a spiritual level. 

Well, God you could definitely feel it. He kept leaving aggressive bites all over your neck as he thrust into you. His hand around your neck kept its firm grip, enjoying the way you struggled to breathe. 

He wasn't fucking you for pleasure, he was fucking you to make you learn a lesson. He wanted to make you cum. He wanted to choke you till your vision got blurry. He wanted it to be clear he hated you with every fiber of his being. 

His free hand went down to your clit and he pinched it before rubbing it with a circular motion. He wasn't gentle so it brought a mix of both pain and pleasure. A feeling that brought you closer to the edge of a sweet, sweet release. He could feel you tighten around his cock and it made him let out a groan which turned into a small mocking laugh.

“Fuck, are you- going to cum? Already?” He says mockingly with a smirk. He took pleasure in knowing he could control you like this. Control someone who seemed to hate him. “C'mon, cum on my cock then, whore,” he said before pressing his lips to yours roughly. He forced his tongue into your mouth and he was clearly eager to get you to cum. 

With a slight angle of his hips, he thrusted into just the right spot that had you tipping far over the edge. He let out a groan at the feeling of you coming undone on his cock before he quickly pulled out. 

He released your throat and grabbed your hair instead before forcing you onto your knees. You looked up at him with a glare and he returned it with the corner of his mouth just barely quirked up. “suck my cock so I can come,” he said as he brought his cock closer to your mouth. He really didn't hesitate when you opened your mouth and immediately forced himself in with a groan at the feeling. 

“God.. do you taste yourself on my dick?” He says as he looks down at you. He thrusts into your mouth making you gag and he just laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. “You're such a fucking bitch when you talk shit. I like you better like this,” he speaks as he mercilessly thrusts into your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat over and over again.

“I'm gonna cum in your mouth and you're gonna swallow, yeah?” He says before throwing his head back with a groan. It didn't take long before you felt his cum run down your throat. He thrusted a little more as he came down from his high before finally pulling out of your mouth. There was drool running down your chin as he pulled his boxers and pants up before kneeling in front of you.

“Swallow my cum,” he orders as he tilts his head at you and waits. You look up at him before turning your head and spitting onto the floor instead. 

“I think I'll pass,” you say as you look up at him once again with a glare. Tension rose between you two again but this time, it was different. Sure, it was hate, but there was undeniably a different punishment waiting instead of an argument.

“Then I guess you haven't learnt your lesson,”

[luveline]

spencer x reader where she kisses his forehead and he’s 🥹🥹

“Spencer, are you dead?” 

Spencer ignores your question by accident. Heavy head in hand, he’s slowly sinking closer and closer to the hotel breakfast table to rest. His neck twinges with the effort it takes to stay up. 

“Spencer,” you say more sharply. 

His eyes track like the air is honey. He settles on your sluggishly while offering no greeting, tiredness pulling at him. “My eyes hurt,” he offers. 

“Make you some tea.” 

“Um, okay.” He’s disappointed when you leave, then dozing, face pressed to his desk as itchy eyes press along lids. It feels as though his eyelashes have turned inward. 

You return with a cup. Spencer grabs it blindly, lifts his head to squint one eye open. “What?” he asks. 

There isn’t tea in the cup. There are tea bags, two of them, wetted and leaking tan beige along the white china of the mug. Distinctly no tea. You must be tired too. 

“They’re for your eyes, Spence. They’ll make your eyes hurt less. The caffeine restricts your blood vessels to calm the inflammation, and the tea itself soothes sore skin.” 

“How do you know that?” he asks. 

You rest a hand on his shoulder. “I read about it in a book of modern home remedies. It really works. Here, can you tip your head back?” 

Spencer is very, very tired, but your voice is nice, your fingertips gentle against his neck, so he tips his head back. He doesn’t know how terrible he looks, having forgotten his untucked shirt, his rumpled sweater vest, his hair sticking up all over the place. 

“Close your eyes,” you murmur. 

Spencer shuts them. 

“It’s cold,” you warn, “but it’ll feel nice.” 

Spencer doesn’t care. He waits for you to move. The tea bags you place on his closed eyes feel cold and at first they sting just a touch, perhaps tea finding its way through his lashes, and he can’t confess to noticing a difference in soreness. 

“Hey… what’s this? It looks like it hurts?” you ask, drawing a short line over the side of the bridge of his nose. There’s an indent there that feels like a bruise.

“I fell asleep at my desk with my glasses on,” he says. “They dug in.” 

“You were up late, I’m guessing. Maybe you should go back to the room.” 

“No, I can’t. I’ll be okay. Thank you for the… tea.” 

Your hand rests tentatively against his cheek. He can’t open his eyes to see what you're feeling, and he doesn’t need to. There’s emotion to be felt in your slow strokes, how your thumb rests along his jaw as your nail scratches to the top of his ear, then behind the shell of it. It’s intimate enough to summon a different kind of tiredness. Exhaustion swapped for content. He could sleep in the curve of your palm all day. 

“You’re welcome,” you say. “I’m gonna take them off for a second to check the damage.” 

You take them. Your breath draws near. 

A warmth presses to his forehead atop his left eyebrow. Spencer doesn’t know what it is until your nose graces just above it, and your lips part —it’s a kiss. You’re kissing him sweetly, your fingers sewing through his hair. 

He peels his sore eyes open to look at you. You lean back as unhurried as you’d ferried forward, your hand cradling the nape of his neck. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask. 

Spencer stares up at you. In that moment, tired, aching, and balmed, he’s completely in love with you. You must see a little of it, your lips parting again in an unnamed emotion. It’s sheer luck that you’re the only one awake with him, because if any of his teammates saw the way he was looking at you they’d never let him forget it. And, he gets to see your reaction. Your partial smile. 

“Did that help?” you ask. 

You must mean the tea. “I feel better.” 

“Yeah? Do you…” Your voice turns to cashmere, a thread of bemusement tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Would another one be okay?” 

Spencer can only nod as you wrap your arms around him and position your mouth at the soft skin where his hair meets his forehead. When you kiss him again, his eyes flutter shut. 

“You really need some help with your insomnia,” you murmur. 

Spencer wonders if maybe you’d want to be that help. You must have melatonin in your kisses.

[delicioushottubpeanut]

♡ babysitter

oneshot - inspired by that one edit

fandom: five nights at freddys (movie)

paring: mike schmidt x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw 18+, dry humping, sexual tension, kissing, friends to lovers, cumming in pants, submissive mike, foul language, teasing, smut, riding, dom reader, consensual sex, age gap, minors dni..

You've heard a lot about him from Abby, mainly bits and pieces that she's told you, but nothing really about him and the only thing he really says to you is that he's eventually going to pay you back. But you always refuse.

The old couch squeaks softly as he sits beside you, a gentle hand goes to reach your face but hesitates.

He’s been very busy for a while now that he has started his new job at a security guard that was shut down ages ago. When he comes home he's always so tired, like he's a different person. As if he cannot relax. You hear the door open and slam back as it he closes it.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't hear you come back.." You whisper, groaning whilst you move out of the position you had been in for a while. Yawning as you gently wipe your eyes.

Mike looks at you, half-smiling as he leans against the cushions. He's tired, you can tell. "Sorry if I woke you, you looked exhausted, so I just wanted to cover you," he whispers back, stretching his arms. "Did Abby go okay for you?" he asks.

"I told her it's bedtime an hour ago, but you know how it is with little ones." You joke.

"Abby was great, she missed you, though.." You smile sheepishly, shifting on the coach to face him. "How was work?" You ask, seeing the slight bags under his eyes.

Mike chuckles softly, leaning his head back and letting out a deep sigh as he stares up at the ceiling.

"It was long," he sighs. "I mean, I've gotten used to it, of course, but god, it's draining..." He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, looking off to the side and fiddling with his fingers, trying to find the right words to explain what just happened at work. He seems hesitant to say.

"You okay? You can talk to me if something is bothering you." Hesitantly placing your hand on his shoulder, slowly forcing him to look at you. You've known him for years due to babysitting Abby, but he's never opened up.

"Well... it's just..." Mike sighs again, still not meeting your eyes. "...Abby asked me some questions about stuff today."

He rubs the back of his neck, shifting in his seat as if he's about to say something and then thinks better of it. He leans back against the coach, letting out a frustrated grunt as his eyebrows pinch in frustration. "I... I just can't tell her."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" You whisper, staring at him, waiting for a response.

Mike's face softens a little, looking over at you before he sighs, shaking his head. "It's nothing. Abby asked about the job, and... well, it got me thinking..." He shrugs his shoulders again, still looking off to the side.

"Look, I'll tell Abby about it myself, I don't... I shouldn't put it on you..." He sighs one again, staring at the floor.

"If you need me, don't hesitate." You place your hand on his thigh, squeezing it for reassurance. Gaining confidence, you slowly move your body off the couch and sit on his lap.

"Oh..." Mike says quietly, his face turning bright red as you place your hand on his thigh. He looks down at you, his expression of uncertainty on his face changing as his eyebrows rise.

He's speechless, frozen in shock at your touch, and his entire face is practically bright pink. He's suddenly a lot warmer, his chest heaving as his heartbeat picks up speed. "... Y- you're..." he says with the last of his breath, his brain having trouble finding the right words to say.

"Is this okay..?" You grind against his lap, whispering against his ear.

"Shit..." He stammers, his brain desperately trying to process what you're doing. He looks confused, his eyes drifting down to you as his mind races.

"What... what are you... n- no, it's... we can't..." Mike stutters, trying to find a way to reject you. But the longer you're in his lap, the harder it is for him to say no.

"Just relax, Abby is fast asleep in her room.." You grind harder against him, using your index finger to tilt his chin up, making eye contact when you suddenly hear him whimper.

"T- this isn't the time..." he mumbles in response, his eyes closing at the sensation and his whimpers becoming more noticeable.

"W- we shouldn't be doing this..." he whispers, his arms hesitating in the air for a moment before they eventually wrap around your waist. He's still torn between going along with it or saying no, his heart racing as he gazes at you.

"Beg for me to continue." You stop moving your hips, feeling his arousal throb against your ass. Wanting to see how he would react.

"P- please... God.." he whispers, the breath catching in his throat and his voice turning raspy.

He looks at you, his eyes pleading, his body quivering under your control. His heart is pounding out of his chest. He swallows, looking up at you as his entire body screams for you to keep going while his mind fights back.

"You can do better than that.." You tease, breathing against his neck, gently creating bruises as you feel his slightly breath hitch.

Mike whimpers loudly when he feels your bites, his muscles tensing as he tries to relax.

"H- I- please, don't stop..." he murmurs hoarsely, sounding completely different than you've ever heard before. He whimpers again, his head tilted back as he tries to hide the pleasure in his face. He can't believe what he's doing, but he can't turn away.

"Good boy.." Slowly reaching to take off your top, revealing your covered breasts as you start to grind against him, pushing your panties to the side, creating a wet spot on his jeans.

Mike looks down at you, taking in the view as your top is removed, his face getting even pinker as his heart races.

He swallows nervously in response to your wetness, his eyes trailing down your body before they eventually turn back to your face. His cheeks are bright red, his breathing heavy as he glances back down at you, looking into your eyes as you look into his. He takes a long, drawn-out breath, his entire body quivering with anticipation.

"Just take what you want, Mike, no one is stopping you.." You tease, eagerly watching his reaction.

"I- it's..." Mike starts to say, but he can't say no to you, not right now. He leans back, pushing himself deeper into you like he can't help himself, the breath catching in his throat as he takes in the sensation. His eyes are closed as he tries to ignore his own morals.

His eyes snap open, his lips parted as he whispers, "More.."

"You close?" Whispering seductively, moving harder as you feel your climax coming fast.

"Oh, god..." Mike breathes out, his face red, and his eyes roll back into his head. He moans, bucking his hips up against you, feeling himself come close to release as he cums in his pants, feeling you come down from your high.