#i spent the better part of my teenage years being fucking terrified of him knowing i’m gay

[gregmarriage]

“i’m too old to change.”

well, maybe if you weren’t a fucking coward

[goodluckclove]

John Green's Thoughts on Adulthood: A Post-Mortem Analysis

So I was thinking about the time years and years ago, back when writer John Green was more active on Tumblr. Someone asked if he would ever write a book about adults, and his perspective were that adults were boring.

There's mixed physical evidence online. I remember seeing it, the first line of the ask was captured on a Buzzfeed article from 2013. I couldn't find the actual ask, because from what I've heard at some point John Green was torn apart with such intensity that he is now just a collection of atoms. And I don't hate John Green. I liked his books when I was also young. I watched the VlogBrothers. If I met him in an author space I would thank him for introducing me to NaNoWriMo when I was in middle school.

And then I would ask if he was doing okay. Like - emotionally? Because the shit she said in that ask is some of the saddest I have ever heard in my life. I'm using this Wordpress post as a reference of the rest of what he said and I just want to go through why it's just such a fucked and dangerous thing to say as an author who advocates for young people.

Follow me!

“Would you ever write a YA novel where an adult plays a key role? I know you like to leave the focus around the teenagers and their “peer relationships… but I was just wondering if it had ever crossed your mind.”

That was the ask. Fairly reasonable! And John Green responded immediately with the following:

I mean, to be totally honest with you, I don’t really give a shit about adults.

This on its own is a massive self-report. Not to any sort of crime or character flaw. In my mind, it's part of the reason why I feel like a point where big enough online figures, writers included, either need a PR team or a LOT of therapy. But he continues.

Like, all of my friends are adults. My spouse is an adult. My parents and brother are adults. I know and like many adults. But I don’t want to write for them. Or God forbid about them. They’re just so…boring. It’s like, “Oh I have a mortgage. I buy six pairs of identical khaki pants at a time. I take care of children and watch the television program CSI.” I admire people who can make that crap into the stuff of interesting fiction, but…yeah. No.”

I am angry. I am very angry. If someone said this shit to me in person I would make a face. If we were sharing a space with anyone under the age of 21 I would immediately say "you need to shut the fuck up right now jesus christ".

The thought of a writer who really made his whole brand caring for youth telling them that their future is inevitably dull and unremarkable, especially when you deal with themes of suicide and mental illness, is actually one of the most artistically unethical things I can think of at the moment. I understand that John Green struggled with untreated OCD for very long time, so there's a chance this could actually just be him voicing an intrusive thought that honestly terrifies him.

But he's wrong. We know this, right? Including the adults on here who complain about the tedious aspects of adult life? We know that in a majority of cases it is generally better to be a legal adult than a minor? If you are someone who would go back to being in high school because you maybe had less responsibilities, are you really prepared to lose bodily/legal/societal autonomy?

Like I struggle in life. Sometimes I've struggled a lot. But at my worst, when I was unemployed and flat broke and I couldn't even sell my blood because I took Lithium, if someone told them they could magic me back to being 16 years old again I would scream in their face until they left.

Also, I have a mortgage. It's not boring. Mortgage and insurances are, in fact, pretty confusing and something you have to learn and research. The most boring part about my mortgage was the thirty minute meeting I spent signing paperwork, and once I did that I owned a house with my wife.

Young people who see this - there are going to be boring parts of your life. That's a thing that happens, and sometimes you'll actually be grateful for it. You aren't boring for being thrilled that there's a sale on khakis if you're buying them for a theatrical production, or donating them to a war relief effort, or you're using the fabric, or if it allows you to save money and time in a way that means you get to have a smoothie or something later.

I cannot speak for the experiences of people with higher support needs than I have. But I did talk about this to a friend with higher support needs, and they agreed that being an adult rules. There is a point in which you are no longer an extension of your family or upbringing and it is your life.

It's not always fun. It's scary and confusing and lonely. I had to learn a lot of what my parents never taught me. Adults are always learning things. But since I graduated high school, the only boring period of my life has been the times where I overworked myself into a breakdown and was forced to recover.

And, considering where John Green is now, that kind of explains his perspective a lot.

I hope he figures stuff out. There's no age limit to having to figure stuff out. We're all going to have to do it a lot in our lives.

[earnestly-endlessly]

hi! hope you're doing well :) do you have any domestic!cherik fics? or established relationship ones?

Hi anon, thanks for the ask. I'm doing very well, been super busy because I'm currently moving but it's all good. I have plenty of great domestic/established relationship cherik fics for you. I hope you enjoy!!

Domestic/Established Relationship cherik

Daycare ‘Verse’ – orphan_account, pocky_slash

Summary: A modern AU in which Charles runs a mutant daycare and Erik is his long-suffering engineer boyfriend.

Runs in the Family – Anonysquirrel (chibirisuchan)

Summary: Alex knew his own reputation. Hell, he'd started some of his own reputation, because it kept some of the smarter thugs off his back. Everyone knew Alex's reputation. There was no way Hank didn't know his reputation, but he'd brought Alex into a house with some really expensive things and a lot of innocent little kids and his too-friendly, too-harmless dad.

But clearly Hank hadn't told his family anything about Alex, just like he hadn't told Alex anything about his family. At least, not about the brain-breaking parts of his family.

"I didn't know where to start," Hank said, for the dozenth time.

Gift of the Magi, But Screw it Up – librata

Summary: He doesn't know if he's buying too much, too little, or even the right things at all, because he's never entertained a guest as important as Edie Lehnsherr.

Making perfect – aesc

Summary: As is the case with most trials in Erik's life, this one starts with Charles gazing beseechingly at him and asking him for a favor. Not that their going-on-three years relationship is a trial, even though it started with Charles giving Erik the full benefit of sad blue eyes and asking him if he wouldn't mind opening his car door since he'd locked his keys inside, but still.

Continue firm and constant – aesc

Summary: Moira hasn't seen her old partner in saving the world from threats human and intergalactic, Erik Lehnsherr, for a few years. When she finally does see him again, she finds a man different from the one who's been with her down in the dark and the dirt and the blood... or maybe he isn't so different after all.

After School Special – listerinezero

Summary: Charles was barely seventeen and Erik was his social studies teacher. But after almost fifteen years together, does it really matter how they met?

Terrifying Domesticity – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is the most dangerous and notorious mafia boss around for miles, and yet the strangest things terrify him.

For example: his children, and his very pregnant mate.

Trying is Half the Battle – Pookaseraph

Summary: Post-Cuba, no divorce, Charles and Erik are in an established relationship and when Charles gets sick with a random flu bug, they discover that Charles can get pregnant. They then try to get pregnant, and try, and try.

We’ll all be gone for the summer – pocky_slash

Summary: Charles and Erik's usual family beach vacation gets a little bigger when they agree to watch Erik's teenaged twins for the summer. Charles is looking forward to a chance to bond with his step-children. Erik is terrified of screwing them up even more.

A Summer Day So Late in Coming – helens78

Summary: Fifty years after they fell in love, Erik comes to Charles with a proposal that rocks Charles's world.

Still Going Strong – JackyJango

Summary: Speaking of forty-eight, Erik hates it. Hates it even more that others are aware of it. While he’s pragmatic enough to know and accept that aging is inexorable, the increase in number gives the people around him the freedom to pounce at him with questions, opinions and advice he'd fought to keep at bay all year.

Besides, Erik believes that youth is a state of mind, not a phase in one’s life.

You have a child’s mind in a man’s body, Charles constantly tells him.

But despite his age, Erik is healthy. He works out daily. His muscles are steel and he can dead-lift four hundred pounds. He can break bones without breaking a sweat. Most importantly, he can still carry Charles to the bedroom and fuck him senseless. And as long as Erik can do that, he’s perfectly happy.

Before You Attempt Me (Fair Warning) – kianspo

Summary: Charles helps Raven get ready for the prom. Surprisingly, that part goes well. The prom itself not so much. Erik cooks a lot of unhealthy comfort foods and is incredibly patient. Charles mostly frets about everything, until Erik does something neither he, nor Raven see coming.

And now you will not be alone any more – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik gives driving, sewing, and cooking lessons, soothes nightmares, bolsters self-esteem, and still can't figure out why Charles keeps smiling at him like that.

Some sense of touch and a melody – pocky_slash

Summary: On a day when Charles, for once, finds himself saying the right thing to everyone he sees, he allows himself to be talked into a field trip to a local orchard.

It’s kind of our whole thing – pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: After two years of best friendship, Charles and Erik thought they knew everything there was to know about each other. They're surprised, then, when their first summer as a couple reveals that they have a lot to learn about each other and themselves.

Indulgence – grim_lupine

Summary: “The children are still asleep,” Charles murmurs groggily, flinging an arm out as if searching for Erik beside him. “The house is still standing, this is a ghastly hour, and more importantly, I’m still here. Why do you insist on doing this every morning?”

Your Father’s Daughter – ConsultingWriter

Summary: Wanda proves just how much she takes after Erik.

Pietro reeled back before leaning back in "They didn't tell you what happened? Wanda got in a fist fight and totally wailed on this guy, I mean, on one hand I feel kinda embarrassed for him, but it was so epic."

Erik's eyebrows shot to his hairline. Wanda got in a fight? That was....surprising, to say the least. Wanda tended to take after Charles in temperament and preferred talking to violence.

This Crazy Game Called Life – chiasmus

Summary: Raven declares game night in the mansion. Sean finds an elephant, Erik inherits one hundred unwanted cats, and Charles scars Hank for life with misdirected dirty thinking. This is five thousand-something words of crack with a dose of schmoop. I'm not sorry. Written for this kink meme prompt: Raven is tired of the boys going off to play chess (if they're even playing chess!) and pulls out a load of board games from one of the closets in the mansion. Madness ensues.

To my roomba with love – sareyen

Summary: There are a lot of things that Erik loves about Charles. He loves all of the obvious things; Charles’s kindness, his intelligence, his laughter, his eyes. He also loves the little private things; the way Charles sneaks Erik his unwanted tomatoes, his warbled opera singing in the shower, that sensitive spot on his hip.

And he loves the silly things about Charles, especially the way the man has a habit of talking to inanimate objects when he thinks no one is looking. Charles has conversations with the kettle, the washing machine, and their roomba – and every time Erik eavesdrops on him, he falls in love with the man a little bit more.

Everything About it is a Love Song – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik's spent fifty years being a figurehead and he's ready to leave that behind. Luckily, so is Charles.

(aka Old Retired Dudes in Love)

A Very Xavier-Lehnsherr Christmas – zamwessell

Summary: Erik is discovering new things about Charles Xavier all the time. Charles sometimes talks in his sleep. Often about food. Occasionally in Latin. Charles has a scar on his left thigh from attempting to demonstrate relativity to a girl by sitting on a hot stove. Charles doesn’t mean to be so loud when they make love, but sometimes Charles can’t help himself.

Charles is a voracious reader. Charles has an unspeakably filthy imagination. Charles will try anything in bed twice to make sure he wasn’t wrong the first time.

Charles is unexpectedly fond of Christmas. Perhaps that is not the phrase. “Unhealthily obsessed” might be better.

The fluffiest holiday fluff you ever read in your dang life.

Of Crabs and Castles – flightinflame 

Summary: Charles and Erik take their children to the beach. Wanda builds a sandcastle, Nina makes some friends, and Pietro gets some exercise. Some family fun in the sunshine.

Bring Your Daughter To Work Day – listerinezero

Summary: Charles brings three year old Lorna to class with him.

Glasses – grim_lupine

Summary: Charles blinks at him bemusedly, but Erik barely notices because Charles is wearing glasses— wire-rimmed, and Erik can feel the metal humming, traces without touch the way they follow the curve of Charles’s nose and rest behind his ears.

Genetics Isn’t Sexy – pocky_slash

Summary: Charles lectures. The kids aren't very responsive. Erik, on the other hand....

Peanut Butter and Honey (The Fairytale Remix) – pocky_slash

Summary: Once upon a time there was a Princess named Anya who lived in a house with her Daddy and her wicked stepmother Charles. (A wicked stepmother is the person who comes and lives with princesses and their daddies after their mommies go away.) She had a best friend named Leroy, and one day he was lost.

The Bystander (The Consultant (aka A Westchester Telepath in the Avengers Tower) Remix) – Nanimok

Summary: When it comes to Professor Charles Xavier, telepath, SHIELD consultant and compulsive flirt, no one is safe.

Not even the Big Three.

[justauthoring]

You’re Stuck With Me Now

Prompt: He’d never leave you again.

A/N: is my return to writing (after a short break) oikawa? yes it is. honestly, i just love this boy so much and ive been rewatching haikyu and i can't... my heart.

ALSO HAPPY BIRTHDAY OIKAWA TOORU <3

Warnings: past implied abuse

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x F!Reader Please don’t plagiarize my work!

“Come on, Y/N-Chan, it’ll be fun.”

With a quirked brow and look of disbelief up at your boyfriend, you roll your eyes. “You know I don’t really like parties, Tooru,” you mumble, taking a bite out of your lunch just as Oikawa lets out a whine of disappointment.

He’d already spent a majority of your lunch break, which the two of you were lucky to have together, begging you to come out tonight with him to Mattsun’s party. He’d spent the entire weeks’ lunches trying to convince you to come with him, to no avail everyday, and now, the day of; he was even more desperate for a yes.

“But it won’t be any fun without you.”

And his pout is almost convincing enough, eyes droopy at the edges with a certain puppy-dog look. The corner of his lips are flipped downwards, but he looks positively adorable (as he usually does - his group of fangirls aren’t for nothing). But, you’ve held restraint all week to this point, and by now, this really isn’t anything new.

“You say that every time, babe,” you counter, pointing your chopsticks at him with a quirked brow. “And every time I come with you, you end up leaving me to mingle off with Hajime.”

His shoulders slump.

“Is Hajime coming tonight?”

“...Yes.”

“Then,” you nod, satisfied, “you won’t be alone.”

“Bu-But!” He all but whines, and before you know it he’s suddenly sidled up behind you, arms curling around your waist firmly to press you flush against his chest. You let out a squeak in response, whining yourself when your delicious lunch is suddenly before you and tauntingly not within arms reach. 

Oikawa is fast to pull your attention on him.

“He won’t be there till later!”

“So I’m just entertainment until he gets there?”

“Of course not!”

Oikawa looks positively betrayed at your assumption, and the look on his face is enough to have you giggling. Shifting in his grasp, you move so you’re facing him, brushing back a few strands of his unruly hair that no matter how hard you try is never ever neat, before meeting his eyes with a soft smile. “Honestly, Tooru,” you whisper gently, “why do you want me to go so bad? You usually don’t care this much.”

“Because,” he shrugs, “I like having you with me.”

And that, unfortunately, is the zinger.

His words all but melt your heart and with a heavy sigh, you realize there’s no possible way that you can say no when he goes ahead saying something so sweet like that.

“I’ll go.”

The way his eyes practically glow is enough to make you smile though.

“Really? Yes!”

However, now that you’re here, cramped in a house of drunk, loud teenagers, you’re suddenly wishing you’d had a bit more self restraint when it came to your boyfriend. As per usual, an hour into the party, Iwaizumi arrived and now even further convinced your boyfriend is more in love with his best friend then you -- you’re completely alone.

“’I’ll be right back’ my ass,” you mutter to yourself, taking a drink from the cup in your hands, instantly regretting it at the bitter taste that goes down your throat.

It wasn’t that you didn’t have any friends, you just weren’t entirely comfortable in social situations. It’s a wonder how you got along with Oikawa so well, but the two of you seemed to just mesh really well together. And of course, he’d been there for you in a time no one else had, and had helped fix you from the person who made you so nervous and skittish around others in the first place. It’s because of him that you’re even able to stand in a room so crowded, even if you’re not really socializing. 

It would’ve been nice to have him to talk with, though. Iwaizumi too.

Pulling out your phone, you send a quick text to Oikawa, hoping that he’ll see it and at least drag you along for whatever Iwaizumi and him got up to in parties like these. It’s because of this that you don’t notice the shadow that falls next to you, not until a hand swipes your phone right out of your own and a voice you’d hoped you’d never hear again speaks;

“Oikawa Tooru, huh?”

Your heart practically drops.

“Figures you’d find someone in volleyball again, you did always love it.”

“H-Haru...”

He smirks down at you, and your lips part when he pockets your phone without a care in the world, his grip moving to your wrist where he tugs you towards himself. “Never thought I’d be able to find you again, Y/N, after you so abruptly moved schools. In your third year no less.”

You pull back on the grip he has on you, trying, to no avail, to get away. “What are you even doing here?”

“I play volleyball, remember?” He quirks a brow, speaking to you like you’re a child. “I know some of the boys here.”

How unlucky can I get...

Digging the heels of your feet down, you use all your strength to fight back the pull Haru tugs on your wrist. It’s clear he’s trying to get you to go somewhere with him, maybe even leave and that's the absolute last thing you can let happen. Haru still has such a pull over you, as much as you hate to admit it, and if you’re alone with him, there’s no telling what would happen.

And you’re terrified to find out.

“Let me go,” you hiss, “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“It seems you’ve forgotten your place, Y/N,” he growls down at you, grip turning bruising as you let out a cry in response, unable to stop yourself. “I’ll give you credit, it was brave of you to think you could get away from me, and finding you was hard. But now that I have you, I plan to remind you just exactly why you’re with me.”

Eyes widening, it suddenly feels like you can’t breathe.

“I mean, after all,” and his eyes gleam, turning dark, “you can’t live without me, remember?”

Your frozen state allows him to gain the control. Before you know it, you’re being dragged through the familiar halls of Mattsun’s house that feel like a blur and unfamiliar in your panic. You don’t even notice where you are, and barely hear when Haru suddenly announces “this’ll do” and then you’re being shoved into a room and the door is slammed behind you.

You fall to the ground with a loud cry, Haru shoving you.

When you turn to face him, staring up at him, he’s blocking the door, staring down at you expectedly. 

“What are you waiting for?” He huffs, “take off your shirt.”

Hands shaking, you push yourself up into a sitting position with shaky muscles, not trusting yourself to stand in that moment as you stare up at him. Everything had moved so fast, and your heart feels as if it’ll break when you realize despite how much better you thought you’d been getting -- none of it meant a damn thing when faced with Haru himself.

You were scared, terrified, and it felt like back then all again. You had no control. You had no strength.

A harsh kick in the stomach has you doubling over, and clutching your sides, Haru crouches down before. “No one’s coming to save you, Y/N. Not even your boyfriend,” he taunts, smirking at you. “I’m pretty sure I saw the infamous Captain shoving his tongue down another girls throat.”

Eyes widening, you stare at your lap. “No,” you mumble, voice breathless, croaky. “Tooru wouldn’t--”

“It’s true. He’s not here, is he?”

Swallowing thickly, you meet Haru’s gaze.

“So, see, at the end of it all, all you have is me, right?”

And you hate the way his hand against your cheek feels like comfort compared to all the pain.

Shaky fingers reach for the hem of your shirt, just as the door slams open.

It’s Iwaizumi.

His eyes widen at the sight of you, flickering to Haru before focusing back on you. “Oikawa!” He calls, voice booming, tone dark, and it’s then you see how angry he looks. “I found her!”

In the next second, Oikawa is bursting pass Iwaizumi. He stills at the sight of you, tear-stricken, face pale, eyes wide with fear, and then Haru, crouched before you, look positively smug about the entire situation. And there’s a moment of pause where nothing happens, and Haru moves to stand, lips parting; “sorry, but it looks like Y/N--”

But he never gets to finish before Oikawa’s punching him straight across the cheek so hard he falls to the ground with a loud thud. 

In the next second, he’s in front of you.

“Shit, Y/N. I’m so sorry,” and you don’t miss the way your name lacks ‘chan’, meaning Oikawa’s serious. “I didn’t mean to leave that long. Fuck. Are you okay? Where did he hurt you? Show me, and I’ll--”

But your hand is grabbing his own frantic ones and when Oikawa meets your gaze, he’s shocked at the soft smile on your lips.

“Y/N-Chan?”

“You came,” you whisper, voice soft with astonishment and adoration. “You came for me.”

And, shoulders easing, Oikawa nods. 

“Of course I did.”

Squeezing his hand, to the point Oikawa is blinking in response, lips parting in worry. You stare into his eyes, imploring; “please don’t leave me like that again.”

And guilt settles deep within his chest, hating himself for what happened, blaming himself for it as well. But he knows that’s not what you mean, nor what you think; you just want a guarantee he’s there for you. And if there’s one thing Oikawa can promise, it’s that.

“You’re stuck with me now, yeah?” 

He grins, trying to make you smile, make you laugh and everything ease when he succeeds, that giggle of yours he loves filling the silence of the room.

“I’m good with that.”

[ghostdrew22]

Angel || Draco Malfoy

Requested: No. Pairing: post-war Draco Malfoy x fem!reader Warnings: Lots of angst in the beginning, mentions of self-harm/self-destructive behavior, mentions of blood, quite a few mentions of the devil, ptsd, just a lot of dark themes ig (let me know if i need to add another warning) Summary: You’ve always been an angel in Draco’s eyes and now, years after the war, he’s reminded why once again.

WORDS: 3440

I’ve been wanting to write about the ‘devil on the shoulder’ trope for a while and I felt like @anchoeritic‘s 3K WRITING CHALLENGE was the perfect opportunity though i think i lost the plot a bit at some point and this probably isn’t what you had in mind.

i had to do so much research for this, probably the most research i’ve ever done for a fic. It’s a lot heavier than I’d intended for it to be (i almost cried at certain points) but I still really love it.

anyway this fic is inspired by ‘Angel’ by FINNEAS (which is a great song that I recommend listening to) and i hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

~~~

Anger.

So much anger that he doesn’t know what to do with it. Red, hot, fury just begging to be unleashed.

He takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes. When he opens them again his fist collides with the wall. “Fuck!”

The miniature Mephistopheles that’s made home on his shoulder tells him to keep going, that this is the only rational response. Draco heeds the advice until his knuckles are bleeding and there’s a dent in the wall.

He lets out a frustrated sigh as he thinks about you returning in a few hours, then he punches the spot one last time out of frustration. Draco’s own love for destruction lies parallel to the myths surrounding Beelzebub, his own virtues bringing him to peril instead of an unseen force of evil. But it’s much easier to believe that the voice always telling him to do wrong, is not his own.

Maybe this is who he is, a fucked up kid with anger issues. Maybe this is all he’ll ever be, knuckles spotted in crimson and harmful thoughts being shoved down as to not raise alarm.

He feels violated by the mark on his arm. Sobs stacking up in his lungs at the very thought, but all he can express is anger- all he can understand is the resent that crawls beneath his skin and settles into his bones like calcium.

Was it his choice? No. Did it matter? No. Choice means nothing in a world run by circumstance. Intention holds no value when there’s no action to follow through. In another world, a better world perhaps, he would’ve had the right to choose and he hopes that he would’ve chosen the right side- the good side.

Forgiveness, they say, is often practiced by the strong willed. He’d tried to forgive, he really had, but Iblis had told him that it didn’t matter who he forgave because they’d still done this to him anyway- they’d still sold his soul to the Devil.

“Draco, when will you forgive me?” She pleads and he shrugs with a thin smile.

“I don’t know mother. I don’t know.”

“It’s been years.” He turns a steal glaze toward her.

“And yet I still can’t get the mark off.”

“What am I meant to do?”

“There’s nothing you can do. It’s too late to do the right thing.”

“What would the right thing have been back then? Huh?”

“The right thing to do would’ve been to protect me.”

“I did protect you. I took the Vow for you!” She yells as she stands out of her chair and points an accusatory finger toward him. He’s seen this scene so many times before that it’s permanently imprinted in his mind, but this time he’s not a scared teenager being scolded by his mother.

“I didn’t ask you to do that.” He stands as well, “I just asked you to save me. Why didn’t you save me?”

“What?” She’s taken aback,

“Summer before fifth. You told me that you’d had enough of him, you told me that we were going to leave and run away so that you could save me from him, from all of them.”

“So now you hate me because I couldn’t leave your bigoted father?”

“No, mother. I hate myself because you couldn’t leave my bigoted father.” He tucks his chair back into the table and pulls out his wand, “Thank you for dinner mother, it was lovely.”

Then he’s gone, and he doesn’t come back.

Draco had shut himself out from the world, hoping that his loathing would dissipate with time but it hadn’t. He still wakes up every morning with that tiny voice reminding him that he’s worthless, and he still believes it.

Why had he done it? Why had he allowed them to put the mark on his arm in the first place? Why had he put his own morals, his own principles, on the line to save a family who might not have done the same for him? Why had he allowed himself to succumb to the many ministrations of Diabolous, which dragged him further and further down the dark side?

Weakness. That’s the only answer he can conceive. Or maybe that’s the sound of Lucifer on his shoulder, consistently reminding him that he’s no match for the evil that resides deep within his soul. He can’t fight it, it’s who he is. He’s weak and he’s unholy. Bathed so often in sin that it’s sunk into his DNA. Does that even make sense?

Draco shakes his head and runs his hands down his face in an attempt to ground himself. But it doesn’t work, all he can see is red and all he can hear is his own conscience belittling him for continuously making the wrong choices. Why does he always make the wrong choices?

His throat so dry it feels as though he’s swallowed sand. His palms sweaty like he’s dipped them in oil. He paces around the room in a desperate effort to remember where you’d placed the box last time this happened. He can feel himself disconnecting from the world, feel himself sinking further and further into the dredges of his mind that torment him most.

That part of his brain that holds the memories, the shame, the anguish, is his biggest obstacle in recovery. It’s always on good days, days when… He blinks when he realizes that no fond memories come to mind. Does he even have good days? Or does this always happen, is this what’s become normal for him?

He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and steps back in shock, completely forgetting about his mission to find the box. The man in front of him looks clean, taken care of. When had he become this man and stopped being the terrified teenager that never ate and wore bags beneath his eyelids like name tags.

There is muscle on his arms, taut beneath the dress shirt that he must’ve put on that morning before going to classes… or work? When had he earned the right to stop looking the way he felt? Which of his actions had merited his beauty returning, when the dark mark still lays clear beneath the dress shirt that he’s got on? There are hickeys along his chest- one, two, three, littered around his torso like a map to his heart- and he can only assume that they’d been left in the wake of your last meeting, because he can’t seem to piece together the memory of them being made.

You. Where are you? Why can’t he remember where you are or what you look like? Did you finally leave? Did you finally realise that he wasn’t worth any of the pain and anguish that he’d put you through? Had you ultimately decided that Draco and the dark mark could not be separated, both physically and mentally? Maybe he never managed to redeem himself in your eyes, and it hurt so much to lose you that he made himself forget.

Redemption, he’d searched far and wide for it. He’d spent the months after the war trying to find some spiritual cleanse for the ailment in his essence, had dabbled in every muggle religion he came across in hopes of finding something that would provide him freedom from guilt. The Bible, the Qur’an, the Gita, the Torah, the Guru Granth Sahib, the Tripitaka- none of the holy books he’d read had promised him enough solace to feel deserving of love from a higher entity. They had all just reminded him of the purity and innocence that muggles embodied, the same qualities he came so close to erasing.

Redemption wasn’t in the cards for him. If it had been a game of Poker, Draco would’ve been the first fold with the knowledge that he didn’t stand a chance against the better players at the table. Who were the better players? He didn’t really know, he just knew that he wasn’t one of them.

His eyes drift toward his reflection once more and he feels disgust crawl through his anatomy. Nausea, a familiar friend in times like these, making itself comfortable in the barrel of his gut. Why had he even eaten today anyway? Sustenance won’t fill the emptiness that’s making domicile in his chest, it won’t make him less of a habitat to repulsive regret and desolation.

He walks toward the dresser and picks up a pocket knife that’s sitting in-between some make up and a music box. Then like deja vu he can already feel the weapon pinching, digging beneath his skin as if it’s trying to excavate bone. He recalls blood pouring out, drowning his pale skin in spills of vermillion and carmine, and dropping to the floor. The floor, chalky tile with tiny chards of black glass engrained in it, something that he hadn’t come up with himself but liked anyway. Who had come up with that again?

Screams, familiar but unrecognizable, had filled his ears soon after. He remembers his arm being wrapped in a bandage, him being carried off the bathroom floor and taken to the Hogwarts infirmary, no, it was actually St Mungo’s. He remembers being treated and loud cries settling down into comforting whispers beside him. He remembers feather light touches being placed on his face and kisses settling onto the skin of his palm.

He remembers something good, but he doesn’t know what.

He remembers the injury, and knows that it didn’t work.

Draco takes a deep breath and puts the knife back down. Staring at his reflection once more he sees that the man standing before him is not the same child that had stepped into battle way back when. When was that? Months? Years? He can’t tell.

The box. The box will tell him. But he doesn’t know where it is, he doesn’t even know where he is anymore. This room is definitely not his Hogwarts dorm room, it’s not in Hogwarts at all, and it’s not his room in the Manor either. Where is he?

His eyes shoot up when he hears a door shutting, and soon after voices follow suit. The voices are coming toward him, in this strange room that he’s in, and Draco struggles to identify them. His dorm mates potentially? No, this clearly isn’t Hogwarts. Friends? His mother? You?

Then there’s a laugh, from a child, from two children, and suddenly none of it makes sense any more. He knows those voices, he knows those laughs, so well that they might as well be his own, but he can’t seem to attach faces or names to them.

A few of the voices drift off, further down the hall, and one gets louder as the door to the bedroom opens. Draco holds his breath as the person walks in, not knowing what to expect, and feels a confused sense of relief wash over him when he sees you standing there.

You laugh as you enter the room, “If you can get an outstanding in Transfiguration then we’ll get you whatever your heart desires.” You respond to your daughter as you recall how both you and Draco had struggled with the subject during your Hogwarts years.

You furrow your eyebrows at the state of your bedroom- documents scattered across the bed, clothes in tiny piles all over the floor, and a tiny dent in the wall beside the bathroom door. A sigh escapes your lips as you process the mess and prepare yourself for what’s about to come. You turn and your eyes land on your husband, and your heart breaks at the sight of him. He’d promised this morning that he’d be fine, it was the only reason that you’d left him alone, but clearly he wasn’t.

“Love? Are you okay?” You ask softly as you take the shoes off of your feet and close your bedroom door behind you. He tilts his head to the side momentarily in confusion, but then realisation flashes across his eyes and he takes quick strides toward you.

“Oof.” You breathe out when he pulls you into his chest and rests his forehead on your shoulder.

“Y/N.” He muffles into your shoulder and you feel your heart swell with love for him- this man who recognizes you instantly, even when the entire world is nothing more than a distant memory.

“Miss me?” You ask with a small laugh as you bring your hands up to wrap around him tightly. He mumbles an agreement and you smile, “I missed you too.”

“Bad day.” He whispers and you nod, rubbing his back in an effort to soothe him.

“I know baby, wanna talk about it?”

“No. Can’t remember.”

“Okay, that’s fine.” You pull him away from you and kiss his forehead with a warm smile, “We can just lie down for a while.”

He obliges as you pull him toward the bed and shuffle the papers off of it, climbing on after you and setting his head in your chest. You run your fingers through his hair and hum, trying to your best to make him feel calm and prevent another breakdown.

But your efforts are futile, within the hours that Draco had been alone he’d thought every terrible thought that he possibly could, Al-Shaitan had already tormented your husband through a series of painful misconceptions. Draco had never really subscribed to religion or faith but after the war he’d identified quite quickly with the concept of the Devil- confessing that he believed he had an evil conspirator sitting on his shoulder- and felt that his own soul deserved to be damned. You’d tried to rid him of that notion, many times, but it never worked, he was in too deep.

You tense up when you feel a cry escape his lips and his fingers tighten into the space of your torso. “I’m sorry.”

He feels terrible, terrible for ruining all of your hard work. All the effort you’d put into rebuilding him now disintegrating in the blink of an eye. But you’re here now, you’re going to fix him again, he knows it.

You try to level your breathing so that you don’t cry too, so that you don’t fall into this pit of despair with him, because Merlin knows that any pain Draco feels takes as rough a toll on you. You pull him off of you and sit up, bringing him to sit as well, so that you can look him in the eyes.

“Sorry for what Bub?”

“For being broken. I-“ He feels another sob rock through him and you pull him into your chest. “Please fix me Y/N.” He pleads, a whimper following suit.

His fingers are digging into you again, he’s clinging so tightly to you like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t stay close enough, and it hurts you to know that even after all these years he’s scared that you’ll leave.

“You’re not broken Draco, there’s nothing to fix.”

“But I’m- I’m-“  Cries start to escape rapidly and interrupt him. He can’t see clearly anymore as tears form in his waterline and obstruct his view of you. It hurts, everything just hurts.

“You’re not broken, my love.” You whisper as you cup his face, “You’re not evil, you’re not bad. You’re good. You’re my husband, I love you. Did you open the box?”

He shakes his head, “Couldn’t find it.”

“Okay, let me get i-“ You’re cut off by your bedroom door opening and your children marching in.

“Dad, you’ll never guess what happened at school today- Oh, is this a bad time?” Ariel, your daughter, stops in her tracks as she raises her eyebrows at you.

You shake your head and gesture for them to come in. “I think it just got a little much for him this year. Please get me the box, love.”

Ariel goes to the headboard and pulls out the aforementioned box from the first drawer, before her and Cael, your son, get comfortable on the bed beside you and Draco. But Draco doesn’t need it anymore, he can already sense himself coming back down to earth. He knows where he is- with you, in your house, with your children, in your bed. He’s home, he’s safe.

He takes the box anyway and begins to unload its contents in silence, the three of you observing him with admiration. It’s a small circular box that your children made a few years back after witnessing one of his episodes for the first time, containing momentos from the last 18 years of you and Draco’s lives together. Pictures, notes, a few school projects.

“Tell him about what happened at school today, it’ll probably make him laugh.” Cael encourages his older sister Ariel, and she does as told.

Draco pays a significant amount of attention to the story, piecing together facts that he’s slowly starting to understand and recognize as a part of his normal life. He intertwines his fingers with Cael’s as Ariel continues telling the story from her spot on your lap.

Love.

So much love that he doesn’t know what to do with it. Bursts of it just choking him out.

Draco remembers everything now. He remembers this house of yours, the one he’d bought straight out of Hogwarts and begged you to live in with him because “It’s nothing without you in it”. These children that you’d had 14 years ago, that’d he’d been so scared to raise because he thought they’d resent him, and that made everything in the world just seem brighter. This life that he modeled with you on the embers of his haunting past, this life that reminds him he’s good.

Before you, he would’ve been terrified to show any one his vulnerable side, especially his children, but you’d taught him that loving someone means loving all the good bits and the bad bits, all the happy moments and the sad moments. Now he knows that when days like this happen, when he gets so lost inside the mental maze of his own construction, the three of you will always be waiting to help him out.

Ariel finishes her story and Draco bellows out a laugh, feeling thankful to have you three around in his moments of weakness.

His three guardian angels- the only people who can always lead him away from the shadow in his mind and toward the luminescence that he carries within him. “All the good within us is split in the middle, half from you and half from mum, just as it should be. I hope you remember that we wouldn’t be who we are without you both.” Cael suddenly speaks up and you smile pridefully at him.

“They wouldn’t.” You add once he’s done and smile, “I couldn’t have done such a bad job without you.”

“Hey!” Ariel accuses and you all laugh.

“She’s right though, I am the one who taught you hexes at age 7.” Draco grins bashfully and you roll your eyes.

“And look at us now, acing Charms!”

“See love,” Draco turns to you, “There is a method to my madness.”

“Mhmm.” You hum with a small smile. “Go do your homework, dinner soon.”

“Yes, I’m making pizza tonight.” Draco adds as he kisses both of your children on their foreheads.

They excitedly hop off the bed and run out of the room. “I can’t belie-“

“Harry called.” Draco interrupts you and your eyes go wide at his statement but you nod for him to continue, “He wanted to know how I was doing, you know with it having been 18 years since the war and all. Offered to come spend the day with me and make sure I’d be alright while you were gone.”

“And you said no?” You raise your eyebrows and he shakes his head.

“No, I told him that I’d come by his office instead. Then when I was getting ready… I just started having flashbacks again, and my mark hurt. I felt horrible all of a sudden, like there was huge weight on my chest and this fog obscuring my vision.”

There are few things that Draco has faith in, but you, you he never runs short on trust for. You’re a constant in his life, a shoulder that he can always rely on when he needs it, and as he sits here and tells you about his day, he feels love for you hit him tenfold.

You, this beautiful, kind, ethereal being that has no place on earth. You, the one who’s managed to convince him that saints are real. You, who has given him your entire life, along with all the love that you have to offer. You, Y/N, the love of his life.

You.

An angel.

~~~

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[sparklysung]

✨OPEN CURTAINS PART II – h.r.j.✨

© sparklysung – 2021. all rights reserved. no reposts, modifications and/or translations allowed.

pairing – huang renjun x female!reader

genre – fluff, smut | non-idol!au, neighbours!au

warnings – voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation, fingering, penetration, protected sex

word count – 3.150 words

summary – after being caught jerking off to his neighbour, things only got better for renjun.

note – writing this was so frkng difficult and i’m still not completely convinced, but i hope it lives up to your expectations, tho! i’m sorry if it doesn’t :’) but i tried my best. also, i finished it earlier than i thought lol. enjoy and now, just you wait for part iii soon!

taglist – @junguwuuu​ , @prvncejxon​

part i ; part 2 ; part 3

to say that renjun was mortified was an understatement.

after the incident of you catching him red-handed, he started avoiding you like the plague. he even started keeping his bedroom curtains closed, afraid of being seen inside and you deciding to confront him about it.

the poor boy couldn’t even sleep properly. he kept waking up almost every night with sweat coating his forehead, dark hair sticking to it, while heavy breaths filled the room.

the times when renjun was lucky, the cause of his insomnia was a wet dream, in which the both of you did everything but innocent things. every time it happened, he woke up in the middle of the night or early in the morning with a painful boner, precum staining the crotch of his boxers. either way, it always ended up with his hand down his pants, desperate for some kind of relief. never, not even during his teenage years, had he experienced so many wet dreams in such a short amount of time.

though when he wasn’t, nightmares tormented his slumber, messing up his sleep schedule even more. he was terrified of the idea of facing you after what happened, as he expected you to think the worse out of him. and to be fair, you had every reason to.

the sleepless nights he spent turning and rolling around in his bed plus the time he spent studying and working on his school assignments had deep dark circles forming under his eyes. it also had become part of renjun’s routine to fall asleep on his desk at school, too tired to pay attention to what was happening during class. and he was getting out of excuses for his exhausted state.

you were driving him crazy and he didn’t know how much time he was going to last until he broke down.

~.~.~.~

the day renjun most dreaded eventually came when he accidentally bumped into you while going to the nearby store.

it was supposed to be a quick and easy task. he just needed to buy some groceries his mother needed to make dinner later that day and the only person he would be required to talk to was the cashier. so he thought he was safe. that’s why, for the first time after the incident –as he had named it–, he decided to go out of his house for other than school and take a break from everything.

“ouch,” renjun didn’t look up at first, so he didn’t notice it was you who he had bumped into, his attention focused on the place where his arm was hit. “i’m sorry, i wasn’t paying attention,” he mumbled, ready to continue his path to the store.

“it’s fine, i noticed,” he froze in his spot as realization fell on him that it was you, the last person he wanted to see. his head shot up, eyes wide in panic and breath turning uneven as his mind raced with thoughts of how to get away from you as fast as he could.

maybe he should go back to china, after all, change his name and erase all traces of ever being alive.

“renjun, right? your name is huang renjun?” you slightly tilted your head and renjun thought he had never seen someone look so effortlessly pretty, his heart felt like it was about to combust. curiosity about your good looking neighbour –who you’ve been wanting to get to know so bad for a while– grew inside of you as you observed him nervously moving around. and had to admit you were especially intrigued after seeing him so unashamedly touching himself with his eyes locked on your body.

a completely different side of him from what you were currently seeing.

gathering the little courage he could find within his body, he spoke up, “uhm, yeah… i guess that’s me?” the sound of his awkward laugh made a smile form on your face.

“so…” renjun awkwardly scratched the back of his head, “i’m sorry for, you know… snooping around and nutting off to you like that, you know, a few days ago.” his hands started getting clammy as he felt his body heat up. “i know it wasn’t nice of me and it was so wrong… i just…” you almost let out a small chuckle at his flustered state.

as he stopped talking and just stared ashamedly at the floor, you decided to tease him just a little bit. “you just…?” you raised an eyebrow, waiting for a response before continuing, “you just happened to have your hand on your dick while looking out of your window the moment i caught you?” you jokingly questioned.

when his eyes opened wide with shock and the tip of his ears turned red out of pure embarrassment, you knew you’d hit the right button.

“fuck, i-i’m really freaking sorry, alright?” his hands came up to cover his face, voice wavering. “i don’t know what else to tell you or how to make it up to you?” he spoke quietly, unsure of what he was saying. your smaller hands took his out of his face, forcing him to look at you once again.

“oh, don’t worry about it, renjun,” you took a step closer without letting go of his hands, your chests almost touching, “you’ll have an opportunity to show me how sorry you are and make it up to me.” with a breathy whisper in his ear, you let go of him, turned around and walked away.

renjun stood there, dumbfounded, not knowing at all how to react.

you were so confusing to him. always so mysterious, staying locked inside your room instead of going out with your friends –and he knew for a fact you had quite a lot–. he had never seen you bring people to your house, let alone your room. he could tell you weren’t exactly shy, but more on the quiet side. you liked keeping to yourself and being a spectator rather than the main character, but either way, you were captivating. so much so that you didn’t need to be in the spotlight to be the center of attention.

since the first time he laid eyes on you when your family was moving in next door, he couldn’t take them away. it was like an invisible force pulled him towards you, making him want to get closer.

but you were out of his reach. and out of his league.

he could never catch up to you after class ended, as you always left as soon as your teacher bid goodbye. so he rarely got to see you due to being in different classrooms and hanging out with different friend groups.

that frustrated renjun to no end.

it felt like the universe just didn’t want you two to happen. like it despised the idea of something sparking between you. like it wanted you apart and as far away as possible.

that’s one of the reasons why he ended giving up on trying to get to know you. apart of you apparently not being interested in him anyway.

~.~.~.~

the one day renjun decided to open his curtains to let natural light and fresh air in, you happened to be at home. just like the first time. he felt a strange sense of déjà vu, as this was the first time in a while he was looking past his window and into your room.

through the also open curtains, he could see you, looking prettier than ever. your hair was messy as if you had just woken up from a nap. your oversized clothes made you look even smaller than you were. biting back a smile, renjun thought about how you would look like wearing his clothes. he was a few inches taller than you, so one of his shirts would probably fit you like a short dress.

he was scared of how much he had been thinking of you lately, especially of the way his heart fluttered against his chest whenever he did. the two of you hadn’t even held a proper conversation, he knew how slim the possibility of something happening with you was and yet he was crushing on you.

renjun didn’t notice he had been staring until he felt your intense gaze burning back at him. his eyes moved away from you as heat rose to colour his cheeks, tongue poking the inside of it. his hand ran through his hair, softly messing it up, to distract himself and prevent him from looking back at you.

he had been caught staring by you, again.

renjun tried to control himself, nails biting into the skin of his palm. he knew you were watching his every move the exact same way he was watching you. you had already confronted him one time about it and it was pretty awkward. he didn’t want to go through something similar again.

once was enough.

his eyes darted back towards you when you moved, successfully getting his attention back to you. neither of you broke eye contact as you positioned yourself so he could see you perfectly from where he was standing up. you laid on your bed, back pressed against your mattress as your head sunk into your pillows. he gasped when your legs opened, allowing him to look at both your face and hand as it slid down to the crotch of the leggings you were wearing, lightly rubbing your clothed bundle of nerves. 

renjun forced himself to stay still and not give in so easily. his jaw clenched tightly as ragged breaths filled his room. he could feel his hardening member throb from the confines of his pants.

he wasn’t sure if you were just testing him, trying to see how much you could push him until he finally snapped, or if you were making a move on him, putting on a show to hint your interest.

and he was scared he was mistakenly reading your signs.

he knew he couldn’t afford fucking up his nearly non-existing chance of getting closer.

tugging your pants down your legs, you threw the cloth next to your bed. the revelation of you lacy panties made a groan fall from his lips, his own hand betraying him and making its way to the tent forming in his pants. fingers squeezing his bulge, he chewed on his lip.

you had him just where you wanted him, hot and bothered, hand rubbing himself through his clothes. he looked so good and you couldn’t wait to see him cumming again. truth is you couldn’t stop thinking about the fucked out state he was in a couple of days ago since he left you to get yourself off to the memory of the sinful things he had done.

you pushed the cloth aside, too eager to touch yourself to properly undress. gently massaging your folds to spread your slick arousal, you sighed in content. you would be lying if you said you didn't enjoy the way renjun was eyeing you hungrily, hands aching to touch you.

seeing your parted lips, red and swollen from biting into them, he wished he was able to hear you and listen to the sound of your moans and whimpers. all of the times he had fantasized about it flashed before his eyes as he tried to pretend they were coming from you.

“f–fuck,” mouth agape as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, hand sliding up and down faster when he saw your lips move into what seemed to be a moan of his name.

he hoped he was right and you were actually calling out his name while touching yourself.

soon enough, your fingers were plunging themselves as deep as they could go inside your pulsating core; renjun’s hips fucking his fist as fast as his body allowed him. loud moans and groans filled both of your rooms, neither of you bothering to keep quiet inside your empty homes.

both your orgasms came faster than you thought, thighs shaking as you both threw your heads back, crying out each other's names. renjun shot his load, his seed dripping down his hand, eyes focused on you as your walls clenched around your fingers, juices running down and staining your bedsheets.

your chests heaved with every pant you let out as you tried to control your uneven breathing, neither of you moving a muscle as you stared into each other's eyes.

~.~.~.~

the second time renjun got to see you put on a private show for him was slightly different. 

this time, you weren’t exactly alone.

bitterness filled renjun’s body as he saw a guy, who he thinks looks an awful lot like one of his classmates, entering your room, hands intertwined with yours. his mouth fell agape when you closed your door and made your way towards the guy, who was sitting on the edge of your bed. he saw you straddle him, hands going to his cheeks before leaning in for a kiss.

renjun couldn’t see the guy, as his back was facing the window, but he didn’t need to, he could tell where his hands had travelled and it made him feel sick to the stomach. he didn’t like one bit of it, standing there by his window with a clenched jaw.

he wanted to be the one there with you, sitting on your bed with you perched on his lap while the two of you kissed. he wanted to run his hands along your body, softly caressing your sides. hold your smaller hands in his bigger ones, comparing them and laughing happily at the difference. tell you how beautiful you were and how he thought you were a work of art that blessed his eyes every time he looked at you.

it hurt his heart to see you with someone else that wasn’t him, but at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to look away. not with the way your eyes had wandered out of your window until they locked with his. he was about to yeet himself out of this world, hand reaching to close his curtains until you smiled at him.

you just smiled. at him. after catching him staring, again. while you were with another guy.

renjun stood frozen, hand mid-air, not knowing, again, what to do with himself. seeming to notice his internal conflict, you resolved you could be a nice neighbour and put on a show, just for his eyes to witness.

it was like a switch had been flipped inside of you.

he saw how your expression changed and he didn’t know if he should have been afraid.

with one of your hands, you pushed daehyun’s chest –the guy you were with– so he was laying down. the new position was perfect for renjun to see everything; he could see your hands pressed against his chest, hips hovering over his and hair covering your pretty face.

he tried to ignore the way the guy’s hands explored your body, feeling every part of you.

without breaking eye contact with renjun, you pulled daehyun by the collar and connected, once again, your lips. he propped himself in a more comfortable position, resting on his forearms. you pressed yourself down on him, rutting against his groin and earning a groan.

the bulge in renjun’s pants was getting more noticeable as time passed, but this time he didn’t restrain himself from touching himself.

two could play this game.

clothes flew all around the room as you both undressed. you pushed daehyun so he was laying on the bed. after rolling a condom on his shaft, you straddled him again, his hands coming to rest on your hips and help you grind on his length pressed against his stomach. a sigh fell from your lips as his hip bone came in contact with your sensitive clit.

with one of your hands holding onto his shoulder, you positioned yourself right above his dick. and as much as renjun despised the idea of someone else being so intimate with you, he was still curious about how you looked like when being pleasured. he wanted to see how your face contorted in ecstasy when cumming undone.

as he saw the guy’s cock ease into you, he tried to ignore the burning feeling in his throat.

lower lip caught between your teeth to prevent blurting out renjun’s name instead of daehyun’s, you couldn’t help yourself but imagine him instead of the man currently thrusting up into you.

you wanted him, not daehyun. as hot as you thought the latter was, something in the way renjun looked at you as his hand moved, trying to replicate the rhythm of your hips, turned you on to no end. you wished you were gripping into renjun’s shoulders instead, tugging at his hair, while he pounded into you and his fingers played with your clit.

and oh, how he wished he was that asshole.

definitely, you behaving so dirty under his intense gaze without a trace of shame, eyes never leaving him instead of looking at the guy you were with, was such a turn on for him. it made him think that, hopefully, you craved him just as much as he craved you.

daehyun kept ramming into you, both hands resting against the mattress and leaving your clit unattended. you internally scoffed, reaching out to get the job done by yourself. renjun seemed to understand your upset state as he visibly scowled, glaring at daehyun.

the asshole was only focused on chasing after his own orgasm, without thinking the smallest bit of the beautiful girl sitting on top of him.

renjun huffed angrily, he surely could treat you better. he would prioritize your pleasure before his, stay hard for a whole day without complaining if it meant he could make you feel good.

if only he could take care of you just how you deserve.

he could sense the change in your demeanour as soon as your fingers got to work, and he took a mental note to treasure this piece of information and make good use of it if he ever got the chance.

soon, the tightening knot in your lower tummy snapped and just like that you were cumming, squeezing around daehyun as he groaned, thrusting harder. your eyes closed, head tilting to the side and hands gripping the sheets while sloppily grinding down on him.

“so pretty, fuck,” renjun’s hips stuttered while his hot seed dripped down to stain his pants, a guttural groan leaving his chest. 

and yet another pair of pants ruined.

but he wouldn’t mind dirtying more if it was because of you.

he reached for some tissues from his nightstand as he looked away, sudenly feeling ashamed.

renjun usually prided himself on thinking objectively before acting, but he was aware that letting all this happen wasn’t one of his wisest decisions.

or was it?

–lia:)

[issaxcharlie]

Ghost of you (1/2)

Pairing: Luke Patterson x Fem Reader

This fic is inspired by Dancing with your ghost by Sasha Sloan and specially Ghost of you from 5SOS and one of its verses also makes an appearance.

It’s also a collaboration I did with the lovely @cookiebuba, thank you for trusting me to write it, love! (I really hope you like it🥺)

Summary: This first part is angst and is basically Y/N catching up with her boyfriend Luke one last time in the 90’s and then Luke founding her once he’s back in 2020.

And that's the only thing I'll say because I really don't want to spoil you. I also adored to write it🥺💖

1997

“Hello again, my love.

Today marks 2 years since you left, And it's still as hard as the first day. One of the hardest things is waking up. Sometimes I stay almost an hour on bed, looking towards the door. Terrified to turn to your side and find it empty again.

Every night I try to rest for hours until finally exhaustion allows me to sleep wrapped in one of your old shirts, pretending that you are quietly sleeping next to me. Sometimes I have to play the only slow song from the first and last Sunset Curve record to ease the craving of you and in the hope that it will help my mind to meet you in my dreams. Those nights when I am lucky enough to find you are what keeps me relatively sane, because no matter how much it hurts to have to say goodbye, not seeing you again would be so much more painful.

I could dream of us anywhere, doing anything. But it’s always the same dream, what I yearn most projected in it. It always starts with me opening the door of our house, you are writing a song in the living room and as soon as you look at me you smile as if you had not seen me in years, wrapping me in your arms with all your strength.

You tell me how much you love me, and that when you are without me you feel as if your soul is missing. And then you ask me to promise not to leave you again. And it hurts, it hurts like fucking hell. Because I know I’m dreaming. Because I know it’s not actually you. Because I know I can’t promise you that. And god, how much I want to promise you that.

I divert the conversation crashing my lips on yours because I don’t want to lie to you, even if it’s only a dream. You pick me up and I hang my legs around your waist. And for a second I allow myself to forget. I sink in your perfume, in your arms, in your kisses, in how your tongue feels inside my mouth, in how your hands walk all over my body, In how my name sounds almost magical in your husky voice.

We spent the rest of the day just being us. Laughing, writing, playing, singing.

I sing to you the last song I wrote, the one I wrote especially for you after the first dream. The first time it just came out naturally, like it had been there the whole time. When I woke up I decided to write it down and complete it, and the next time I dreamed you I started playing it for you, just like all the following times. Because it’s the only excuse I have to cry there, for you to comfort me. Because it’s the only way I have for you to understand a little of what I am suffering without ruining the illusion.

“Come here beautiful, you’ll never have to experience something like that, I promise. You’ll dance with the real deal.” If you only knew, love.

That's when I melt on you. The tears don’t stop falling as you practically wrap me in your arms and we dance calmly around the room, I’m sobbing like crazy while you sing in my ear to try to help me relax.

I can tell you’re freaking out, comforting someone while crying was never your strong suit, but being me you always try your best,and that was more than enough.

The dream always ends with me in your arms, when I finally calm down and our heartbeats sound as one. Everything feels good for a second until suddenly I can't hear yours anymore. I beg you to hold on to me but little by little you fade away. I try to dance alone, pretending that you are still there to try to make you reappear, but I never get it. I never get you. So I keep dancing and crying until the stabbing pain wakes me up.

And I know it sounds awful and heartbreaking, but I can assure you, If to see the shine in your eyes, hear your voice and feel your lips, I have to end up dancing with the ghost of you, I’ll do it every single time. It's worth it... you are worth it. I would happily pay for the suffering I go through when I wake up every day in order to continue living the good moments.

I officially released the song a month ago, and it's doing fairly good. I knew I had to come to tell you, and it was a good excuse to finally dare to tell you that I still find you recurrently in my dreams. You will always be the love of my life, my biggest dream. I love you Luke, yesterday, today and always.”

After talking to him for hours, she gets up, wipes her knees, and examines the tombstone of her beloved for a few more seconds before leaving the cemetery.

The only thing on her mind right now is how unfair life was with her.

2020

After several months Julie finally decided to hear the music that she used to listen with her mother at full volume every day. Iconic songs from the 90's that marked the life of her mommy and later, in some way, hers.

‘Ghost of you’ starts playing and Julie can't help but feel even more connected to the song now that she lost Rose and the boys came into her life.

Just as she thinks of them almost as if she had summoned them, Sunset Curve appears. Reggie is about to speak when Alex puts his hand on his mouth. The three turn pale and begin to search where the sound is coming from, until the three approach their friend's laptop, a tear instantly falling from Luke's eyes.

“Ghost of you by Y/N Y/L. The story says that the poor thing lost the love of her life when she was just a teenager, she couldn’t recover from that loss. 2 years later she released this song to honor his lover on the anniversary of his death, and ended being one of the most iconic songs of the 90's era."

“Dancing through our house with the ghost of you. Cleaning up today, found that old Zeppelin shirt you wore when you ran away, and no one could feel your hurt.”

There is no doubt that she wrote it for him. The pain on the young woman's face makes him want to hit his head against the wall until he’s unconscious.

Reggie and Alex aren’t in better shape, they both seem about to pass out. Julie wasn’t expecting them to be so affected over an old love song.

“I know the feeling guys, her voice is breathtaking and heartbreaking at the same time, is insane. I know she would have done a lot more of amazing music if she’d had more time.”

If Luke's heart continued beating it probably would have stopped at that very moment.

“Julie, What do you mean with If she’d had more time?”

“She died a month after releasing the song in a car accident. I think in 1997.”

THANK YOU FOR READING, part 2 HERE✨

[hello-everyfandom]

“How do you know that you won’t fall out of love with me?”

Warnings: N/A

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Words: 2.5k

Summary: Your love language is Words of Affirmation

(This is a continuation from my series “Love Languages”)

Growing up in Malfoy Manor was less than loving. Although the Malfoy’s had the extremely upheld ideal of family, loyalty, and honor, Draco’s upbringing was not so much about comfort and love but the constant pressures of being perfect. Perfect. Always perfect. From his young ages, he was expected to always be pristine, polite and most of all: quiet. A young Draco spent a lot of time outdoors, trying to hide from the pressures of his family, climbing trees, and touching the breeze, enjoying the small moments of being alone. He basked in the safety of being outside in the open until one day when he accidentally got dirt on his trousers. That afternoon, his father berated him, yelling and harshly reprimanding him. How dare he decide to dirty himself, to look less than ideal. As his father scolded him, his mother stood in the background, arms crossed to hold herself. By the end of Draco’s familial slaughter, his father decided Draco needed something more than verbal punishment. That was the first time Draco had been hit by his father. He could still feel the sting, even as a teenager, and the bruises from his father’s hand, gripping his wrist tightly, seemed to stay forever. From then on, Draco suffered, molding himself, hurting himself to become the Malfoy definition of “perfect.” 

When Draco fell in love with you, part of him was ecstatic. He had you. The kindest and flawless human there ever was. He was merely enchanted with your sweet nature. He would question, every morning, how such an amazing creature, like yourself, could be any type of enamored with him. But part of him was terrified. More than terrified. There was a deep seeded insecurity that lied within his chest. You, the light in the dark, was his one happiness, his one source of love. Draco Malfoy knew he wasn’t good enough, not for someone like you. He could not handle the idea of you seeing him as anything less than perfect. The moment you whispered those three words, the words that would make him swoon, he vowed to be the perfect boyfriend. He vowed to become the man you absolutely deserved. 

Draco’s insecurities, his faults and fears did not need to be said out loud. You knew of his childhood and had heard through the grapevine of the Malfoy’s ferocity and less than ideal traits. Even before you met him, you knew Draco Malfoy was deserving of love. Most students in Hogwarts, besides the ones in the Slytherin House, seemed to despise Malfoy for his bullying and constant insults. However, you saw him as who he was, a boy who has been nothing but hurt. 

Therefore, it was your own duty to compliment every aspect of him. Your words of love were endless and you loved to see the way Draco’s neck blushed while he attempted to keep himself cool. You loved to surprise him by finding different ways and different things to compliment him on. While Draco would roll his eyes or scoff, you knew he thrived off of it. Other times, you’d comment on his nice penmanship or his ability to cast difficult spells. It came naturally to you as you were raised in the most loving, passionate and encouraging family. You wanted nothing more than to spread that compassion to your boyfriend.

If Draco was honest with himself, he couldn’t help but stand, anxiously, on his toes. He was constantly worried about disappointing you, hurting you, being anything less than perfect. Insecurities in the shape of heart murmurs kept him up at night. There was an ache, a hurt, a fear that nearly rendered Draco breathless.You were, by far, the most radiant person Draco knew. Equal parts funny and sweet, sarcastic and kind. And, much to Draco’s exasperation, many of the other boys at Hogwarts knew this as well. And, to make his insecurities and self doubt even worse, you were Draco’s first relationship. Draco was not yours. Many boys, since first year, had fancied you and you had even dated a few. This was always a sore spot for your boyfriend who seemed to be jealous of any past relationships you had. The jealousy and insecurities made Draco more fearful, worried even, that you’d slip away. 

You sat in the empty classroom Draco had found for the two of you. While other couples took to the Common Rooms, corridors, courtyards, and even sometimes the Great Hall to inflict PDA, Draco preferred utter privacy. He felt that wherever he went, people gawked. Instead, he much preferred being alone with you. He wasn’t sure if it was because in private rooms he could kiss you whenever he wanted or if it was because when you were alone he did not have to worry about other blokes staring at you. 

The afternoon sun streamed through the class windows, casting streaks of light onto the table in front of you. You were perched on the wooden bench, sitting on your crossed legs, a book held leisurely in your hand. Draco sat next to you, leaned over his Alchemy essay on antidotes and blended potions. Though the essay was difficult, Draco felt relaxed, resting his hand on your bare thigh and rubbing shapes on the skin. He listened to your steady breathing and the crinkling of the paper as you turned the pages. 

He only turned to look at you when you let out a long sigh and snapped the book shut.“Good book?” Draco asked, looking at you from the corner of your eye.

“Oh yes, I think it has to be one of my favorites.” 

“Is that why you look so grumpy?” he leaned to dip his quill in more ink, his hand never leaving your thigh.

You laughed and shook your head, “No no, I’m not grumpy. But, there is so much drama in it and it renders me rather exhausted sometimes.”

Draco hummed, “How does a silly little thing like you become tired from books?” 

“If you knew me,” you ticked your tongue, “you’d know I become tired from nearly everything.”

Draco let out a chuckle and put down his quill. “I do know you, well enough to know you become grumpy when tired.”

You opened your mouth to protest but paused to realize that your boyfriend was annoyingly correct. “Damn you,” you huffed and leaned back before picking up your book again.

“Exactly.” Draco’s smile was small but still prominent. It was silent again as you began flipping through the pages once more, easily letting yourself fall into the plot and dramatics of the story.

“Love,” Draco shook your leg lightly, “Do you have any extra parchment paper?”

You raised your hand to shoo him away, “In my bag, help yourself and let me read, I think they are finally about to kiss.” Draco shook his head, clearly amused. 

Entranced in your book, you didn’t notice Draco’s hands shaking. A piece of parchment held tightly in his fingers.

“What is this?” Draco’s voice was strained. 

Peeking up from your book, your eyes moved from Draco’s hand to his distraught and angered face. “It’s,” you stuttered and quickly sat up. “Draco,”

“What. Is. It. Y/N.” Now, Draco was standing. Eyes skimming through the words over and over again. 

“Honey,” you swallowed. “It’s really nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing, Y/N.” Draco said, his voice a painful mixture of hurt and outrage. 

“Truly, it really is nothing. I was going to tell you about it-”

“But you didn’t.” Draco seemed to snap.

“But I forgot.” You shook your head. 

You knew exactly why Draco was upset. By your parchment, crumpled up in the corner of your book bag, was an old love letter. 

Before, as you were walking to Care of Magical Creatures, an old boyfriend, William Franklin, of yours had stopped you. Your fourth year boyfriend greeted you with a smile and you smiled back as your break up was neither malicious nor horrid. The two of you had split up merely because you fell out of love and decided to remain friends instead. William was exactly that, just a friend. And when he approached you, he teased you, handing you the old love letter you had written him in fourth year. It was a pathetic letter, one a lovesick little school girl would have written, but it was enough for Draco. 

William and you laughed it off, you called him a “Nasty bastard,” 

And he returned the insult as well as whistling and said “Malfoy’s got his hands full, poor bloke.”  

However, Draco did not see this as two friends reminiscing on cringey memories, he saw it as the girl he loved, effortlessly, proclaiming her love for someone who wasn’t him.

“Darling,” you sighed, standing and brushing off your skirt, “Please, don’t be upset.”

“Don’t be upset?” Draco asked incredulously.

“Yes.” 

You moved slowly around the table, knowing Draco needs both space and company when the two of you fight. Everyone in the world knows, couples fight. All healthy couples, all loving relationships are not without some mode of arguments, bickering or debates. However, you wouldn’t really call your arguments with Draco even arguments but rather heavily emotional conversations. It took a while to understand Draco’s argument style, sometimes he was harsh and critical, others he was quiet and sarcastic. But you knew Draco’s defensiveness stemmed from the demons of fear and self-doubt.

“This is ridiculous, what the fuck is this, Y/N?” Draco shouted. The veins in his neck began to bulge and you could see his eyes narrow, his heart pumping. You didn’t flinch. 

“Let me explain, yeah?” your voice steady. Your arm raised slowly to take the letter from him, but Draco pulled back harshly. “It is an old love letter.”

“I can see that it is a love letter.” 

“No,” you shook your head again, “It is an old love letter. Old.”

“And yet you still have it?”

“Yes-”

“So you’re off just dreaming about some other fucking wanker then? You keep this to remember your old better boyfriends?”

You took a deep breath, “No. I don’t. William-”

“Don’t say his bloody name.” Draco groaned. You stopped to hold in laughter, although it seemed rather insensitive, you couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity. 

“Draco,” you clenched your jaw to stop yourself from laughing, “he gave me it during class. I had wrote it back in fourth year. Darling, have you read it? It’s mortifying, not romantic.”

“But-”

“But nothing. There is nothing to it. No secrets, no affair, no sneaking around. Nothing. Just two old, old, old friends laughing about something extremely embarrassing.” 

As you said that, you slipped in the small space between the table and him. You gingerly took the parchment out of his hands and placed it on the table. Draco watched as you put your hand on his chest and another on the side of his abdomen and sighed.

“Really?”

“Really.” you confirmed. “I am, solely, without a single doubt, yours.”

“Are you sure?” Draco’s voice was timid, quiet.

“Draco,” you looked up at him. His pale eyes looked into yours, no longer narrowed or angry but looked almost in defeat. 

“You are my one and my only. No one else has made me laugh like you do or made me feel loved like you do. You are, and I say this with nothing but honesty, the love of my life. Nothing will change that.” You stood there for a while in silence, feeling the slowing heart beat of your boyfriend.

“I’m sorry.” Draco whispered, eyes closed.

“Don’t be,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “If I were to find an old love letter from one of your ex-girlfriends, I’m sure I’d go mad.”

“May I ask you something?” Draco mumbled, he leaned forward so his chin was on the crown of your head.

“Anything.”

“Do... do you... does it bother you that I haven’t had any girlfriends before you?”

“No,” you replied, “Does it bother you that I’ve had boyfriends before you?”

Draco stayed silent as his response. You bit your lip and shuffled closer to Draco, not wanting to upset him more.

“My love, look at me,” you said quietly. “There is no one else but you. All the past boyfriends were... childish crushes, nothing more, nothing less.”

“Then why did you and William break up?”

“William and I fell out of love, simple as that.”

Anxiety. Draco felt anxiety. He attempted to push it down, to swallow it, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t decide whether to leave or to stay and bask in his insecurities. 

“Then,” Draco’s eyes flickered to yours, “How do you know that you won’t fall out of love with me?”

You were taken aback by his bluntness. Nearly speechless and fighting to find words. 

“What?”

“You wrote him a love letter-”

“It was when I was fourteen!”

“If you were that in love with him, who's to say you won’t wake up and realize that you-”

“Stop.” you said firmly. “Draco, why are you doing this?”

Your eyes looked into his, searching for anything, hoping to find the answer in the grey of his eyes. The helpless look he omitted hurt. Your body ached in sync with his. What were the words you could say? What could help him? Aid him? What simple words, complex words could you speak that would ensure Draco of your love and affections.

Your hand shifted to softly hold his. With a kiss on each of the knuckles, you answered, “On my last dying breath, on every child we have and every memory we will experience, I will love you. I am,” you paused, “So lucky to have you. So utterly happy and content. My silly boy.”

“Y/N...”

“And, I am so, so proud of you.”

“You don’t have to say that if you don’t mean it,”

You rolled your eyes jokingly, “Must you always argue with me?”

“Still-”

“Of course I am proud of you. If I could shout it from the Astronomy Tower, I would in a heartbeat.” 

Draco laughed along with you. The idea of your small body chanting and screaming to the wind that you were proud of him made him feel both embarrassed and loved.

“I would write you a thousand, a million, a billion soppy love letters. I will gladly tell you everyday how in love I am with you. If not for you, for myself.” you finished and pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips, “I find it quite amusing to see you flush when I compliment you.” “

Are you-”

“Please do not ask me if I am sure,” you laughed, “I am most sure.”

“Real-”

You interrupted Draco’s question, silencing his insecurities and pressing a long kiss to his lips. His lips were wet and nervous between yours, but he felt the way you pushed and pulled, the way your fingers gripped his shirt tightly, the way your smile imprinted onto his. He simply could not describe it. He could search every dictionary and learn every language, but he would not be able to find any definition that could explain your love. 

The only thing that could even come close to describing how you made him feel is the feeling he got when he was young, high in a tree, and touching the comforting breeze.

[aliwritesfic]

Night Shift Part 3 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

Summary: Yours and Frankie’s weekends take very different turns

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: Emotionally abusive relationship, very brief mention of drug use, drinking, T*m D*vis makes an appearance

Part 1 Part 4

Frankie slept better that week than he had in months. Every night was long, uninterrupted, mercifully dreamless sleep. The diner had done exactly what he had hoped. When he awoke that Saturday afternoon, he felt better than he had in ages. He hummed while he rummaged through the refrigerator, grabbing out some leftover padthai and throwing it in the microwave.

Each night that week, a routine between you and him had formed. You’d work, barely exchanging words until the dinner rush was completed, then you’d make him a coffee and he’d make you something to eat. You’d requested something different each night, and each night you’d spoken to him a little more. Some nights you were in a better mood than others, but he quickly realised it wasn’t personal against him.

He found he was a little disappointed when he woke up that afternoon and remembered that it was his day off. If he was being honest with himself, he’d grown to enjoy your company. Something about you intrigued him, made him want to get to know you more.

Frankie spent getting stuff together for poker night with the boys. It was his turn to host, so all he had to do was make sure that his dining room table was clear and his portable speaker was charged. 

While he got ready, his mind kept wandering back to you.

He thought of the way you had a different smile for certain customers. The truly genuine one was reserved for only a select few of your favourites. He felt himself hoping that one day you’d give him one of those smiles, instead of the one that didn’t really reach your eyes and disappeared quickly. 

He thought of how when the diner was quiet, you’d lean against the counter and sip your coffee, your gaze firmly out the window. 

He thought of how when your shift ended and you checked your phone, your face would change for just a fraction of a second before you’d say goodbye and rush out the door. 

Jesus fucking Christ, he thought, do I have a crush?

Frankie hadn’t had a crush since high school, when he had finally had the guts to ask out Portia Inglewood. That relationship had lasted until he left the military, and brought all the emotional baggage with him.

A loud banging on the door knocked him out of his thoughts. 

“Cat!” Benny didn’t wait for Frankie to open the door. “We’re here, and we have beer!”

“You know where it goes,” Frankie called back. 

Santi grinned at his best friend and handed him a beer. “How’s the new job?”

“It’s exactly what I need right now,” Frankie told him. Santi nodded in understanding. They all had their own ways of dealing with what they carried. “Plus, the extra cash doesn’t hurt.”

Frankie didn’t want money - he had plenty from when he’d do private jobs with Santi. If he ever became desperate, he knew he could just join Santi on his next job. 

“Well, extra cash or not, I’ll always be the hottest person you’ve ever worked with,” Santi winked, making Frankie roll his eyes.

“Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better, man.” Frankie laughed. 

The night progressed in a haze of pizza and beer and poker. Will lost money to Tom, and Tom promptly lost it all to Benny. Santi told the group about the new girl he was seeing, some French expat over stateside for a few months. Benny double checked everyone was coming to the fight next weekend. Tom revealed that he and the girls were moving to Ohio to be closer to Molly’s parents. The boys promptly began planning a going away party, which would basically just be another poker night but with more beer and possibly a cake.

Any worries Frankie held seemed to melt away on nights like these. At one point, he briefly wondered what you were doing and if you were thinking of him too. Yep. Definitely a crush.

~*~

You didn’t like Kurt’s friends. Unfortunately, you were stuck spending your Saturday night with them crowded in your apartment, loud and disrespectful as hell. It didn’t matter to them that you’d asked time and time again could they please go outside to smoke, could they please put their beer bottles in the recycling bin, could they please not use your nice plates to do coke on. 

If your grandfather could have seen you now, he would’ve called you a push-over. You hated that you had become this person - afraid to stick up for yourself in your own home. Hell, you didn’t even know at what point you’d become this person. It just seemed to happen over the five years you’d been dating Kurt.

You had lost yourself in trying to be what he wanted.

With a sigh, you sealed yourself away in the bedroom with a bag of Doritos and your phone, wishing you could call your grandfather. You still had his number in your phone. Occasionally, you’d look at it, the numbers seared into your brain. 

Instead of calling the now disconnected number, you settled for messaging Sara. She was one of your only remaining friends from high school, and knew as much about your feelings as you were willing to let on. The thing was, you knew what she would say if you told her how you felt every single day. How lost, how hopeless you felt. She’d tell you to leave, forget Kurt and all the years with him, but to you it wasn’t that simple. 

Part of you still loved him, despite everything, and that part remained hopeful that you and Kurt could fix the fractures in your relationship. Plus, a voice in the back of your head told you he was right when he said he was the only one who could ever love you. 

Being alone, unloved, was one of your deepest fears.

This was one of the nights you actually missed being at the diner. You missed the lemon scented countertops, the radio that seemed to be permanently set on the oldies station, hell, you even missed Frankie and his amazing food. He’d been working with you less than a week but he had already wedged himself into your stomach. But, it was just two more nights until you were back there. It struck you that this was the opposite of how most people thought. No one you knew actually wished to go back to work. 

It was almost dawn when you were woken out of your half sleep by Kurt stumbling into the room. 

“Baby,” he slurred, crawling into bed beside you. “Baby, I love you.”

“I love you too,” you mumbled, moving over so he could fit in the bed easier. He reeked of sweat and booze. 

“I’m sorry,” he planted a sloppy kiss on your neck. “I really try to be good.”

“I know,” you ran your fingers over his head. He liked his hair cropped short, in an almost military like style. “I try too.”

“Can we go back to how we were?” Kurt continued kissing you, his hands moving drunkenly over your body. You bit back a sigh, knowing where this was heading.

You decided it would be easier to let him do what he needed, despite how badly you wanted to sleep. The only saving grace was you knew Kurt would only last a couple of minutes before it would be over. 

~*~

“So, what’s the new guy like?” Manny asked. You were seated outside, at one of his favourite cafes. The sun shone down warmly on you both, brightening your mood.

“I like him, I think,” you said. “He’s nice, quiet.”

“And pretty cute, right?” Manny wriggled his eyebrows. 

“I hadn’t noticed,” you lied. Of course you had noticed. It was impossible not to notice. 

“Don’t feed me bullshit, I can tell when you’re lying.”

“Ugh, fine. He’s good looking. But that doesn’t mean anything.”

“That’s the thing lover, it only means something if you want it to.” Manny took a conspiratorial sip of his drink. “And I didn’t get a gay vibe from him.”

“Oh good, because the only thing holding me back from jumping his bones in the kitchen is that I didn’t know his sexual preference.” You rolled your eyes, deciding to quickly change the subject. “Anyway, how’s the new job?”

“I’m loving it!” Manny lit up. “Everyone says teenagers are the worst group to teach, but it’s like they forget middle school exists.”

You smiled at Manny’s happiness. It thrilled you to see someone you considered your best friend so happy. If anyone deserves the whole world, you thought, it’s him. But he wasn’t going to let you change the subject that easily.

“You know, maybe you could invite Frankie to one of our lunches,” Manny said slyly. “It could be a night crew thing.”

“That would mean inviting the weekenders,” you reminded him. Manny held a grudge against the weekend crew, but you could never figure out why.

“No, weeknight crew only. Come on, lover, it could be fun! Plus, I want to get to know my replacement a bit better. Make sure I’m not handing the spatula to someone I don’t approve of.” Manny pouted and switched on his puppy dog eyes.

“Ugh, fine, I’ll ask,” you conceded, “but don’t be surprised if he says no. The man probably has a life.”

“It can’t hurt to ask though, and I will bother you about it until you have an answer.”

“What are you planning?” You knew that look all too well.

“Just on making a new friend,” Manny said innocently. “Lover, you can never have enough friends.”

At that moment your phone buzzed with a text from Kurt.

Where r u?????

You grimaced and sent a quick reply, hoping it wouldn’t lead to what it usually did.

At lunch with Manny from work. I’ll be home in a couple hours, do you want anything?

“Why don’t you just break up with him?” Manny asked, watching you carefully.

Is he the gay 1?

Yes, you met him and his husband last year.

“It’s complicated,” you said. You didn’t have anywhere to go. You were terrified of being alone. Part of you still felt like you could salvage what you had. The one and only time you had tried to break up with him, he had threatened to kill himself if you left. 

“You deserve better than that,” Manny said. You remained silent, not sure if he was right. “You’ve been unhappy for ages now.”

“I’m happy!” You protested.

“No you aren’t. Don’t fucking lie to me. You’re miserable with that douche bag, even James agrees.”

“I haven’t seen James in months! How the hell would he know!” You were getting defensive, but you still managed to keep your voice lowered. 

“Lover, I talk that man's ear off every chance I get. Because I love him. Because he likes to hear me talk about my day and the people important to me.”

“I’m important to you?”

Manny rolled his eyes and threw his napkin at you. “Of course you are, you’re a sister to me. Stop trying to change the subject.”

“What subject!” You scoffed.

“The subject of you for some reason wanting to stay in a relationship with a man who makes you miserable,” Manny’s voice softened and he gently held one of your hands. The gesture almost made you tear up with its gentleness. You merely shrugged.

“Like I said, it’s complicated.”

Manny nodded. “Just please think about it, for real. I couldn’t sleep at night if I never said anything to you about it.”

The walk home was slow, you took your time to sort out your scrambling thoughts. Manny had offered to drive you, but it was a nice day, and you wanted to enjoy the sunshine. You pushed the issue of Kurt to the side, knowing either way the outcome would be the same unless you magically grew a spine and a few extra zeros in your bank account.

Instead, you thought about Frankie and how best to ask him to Sunday lunch. Honestly, if there was going to be a night shift tradition, it just felt downright rude to not at least extend an invite. And if Frankie said yes, well, that was even better. It was like Manny said - an opportunity to make a new friend. Just a friend.

So why did your stomach flip at the thought?

Tagging @hnt-escape if you’d also like to be tagged just let me know <3

[bookishofalder]

Emergency Contact

Requested by: @beccaaurora 💜

‘One where Flip Zimmerman x reader get into a big fight and don’t talk for awhile . But then the reader gets a call that something happened to Flip cause the reader is still his emergency contact.’

Warnings: Language, angst, gunshot wound, hospital.

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! This was fun to write, I love a good argument that makes the audience go ‘wtf JUST SAY WHAT YOU FEEL’!

You had been having an excellent dream about being a contestant on The Price is Right. You were spinning the wheel and Bob Barker was telling you to say hi to your family back home when the beeping from the wheel turning morphed into a shrill ringing.

Your phone was ringing, and it pulled you rudely from your dream. Now you’d never know if you were going to win.

Sighing, you rolled over and reached for the phone, squinting at the alarm clock. It was four in the morning. Fucking four am? Whoever was on the line better be dead, you thought miserably, pulling the receiver to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Miss. (Y/F/N) speaking?” An efficient voice spoke down the line, and you frowned. You didn’t recognize the woman at all.

“This is she.” You replied, sitting up and flicking on your lamp. Concern already growing as you woke up.

“This is nurse Greer over at Colorado Springs General. I’m sorry to disturb you so early, miss, but we have an officer Philip Zimmerman in our operating room with a gunshot wound, and he has you listed as his emergency contact.”

You were glad, at that moment, that you were already sitting down. You felt the air evaporate from your lungs, your entire body going rigid in fear; you were pretty sure had you been standing you’d have fallen over “Wait-is he okay?” Your voice sounded small from the fear now growing within you.

Yet you were angry, too. If the last fucking time you spoke to Flip Zimmerman was last month when you...no, you couldn’t think like that. But if it was, you’d kill him. You’d bring him back to life yourself just to kill him.

“He took a bad hit to the shoulder, but it was clean through so the doctors are just repairing the nerves and assessing for any other trauma. He should be out within the next half hour.”

When your lungs began to work again, it was like you were learning to breathe for the first time. The air rushed into your grateful lungs and you heaved a small gasp as relief swept through you. You thanked the nurse and confirmed you were on your way.

After hanging up, you dropped your head into your hands and took a few deep breaths to steady yourself. Your thoughts turned to memories of the last time you’d seen the love of your life, fucking Flip Zimmerman.

++++

Flip was staring across the diner table at you in surprise, his brows raised comically high, nearly disappearing into his raven locks.

“Darling, what?”

“I said...no, I don’t think we should live together, yet.” You shrugged, but leaned closer and took one of his hands into yours, rubbing your thumb across his skin reassuringly. “It’s not that I don’t want to, or haven’t been thinking about it myself. But, Flip, I don’t think you really want that.”

His surprise fell into a frown at your words, and he leaned across the table toward you, mirroring your pose. His eyes searched your face for a long moment before he spoke, “I asked you because it is what I want. If you want it as well then that’s all I need to hear, darling.”

“Flip, I’ve known you for a long time. Speaking as someone who was your best friend for most of that time until you finally admitted you loved me-which by the way, was only two years ago, I’m not sure this is smart.”

“What the hell does that even mean, (Y/N)?”

You sighed, “It doesn’t bother me that commitment and change is tough for you. Just getting you to leave a few extra pairs of pants and some shampoo at my place was an ordeal, remember? You really think taking both of our lives and putting them inside the same house isn’t going to...” You trailed off, searching for the right words. How could you tell him you were terrified he was going to leave you one day? Once he realized that he could do so much better. Moving in together seemed like the perfect storm for that to happen. “I don’t want you to regret moving too quickly. We’ve always taken our time, you and I. I’m not impatient.”

Flip leaned away, his hand pulling away from yours to cross his arms over his chest. He always took his time to speak whenever you had serious conversations. You were the live wire, the one who got emotional too quickly regardless of your intent. You took the opportunity his silence presented to take a breath, your eyes never leaving his.

“This really what this is about-you think I’m not ready to commit? Or is it you that ain’t ready?”

“Flip, you know I’m being careful here. I care about you, about us. I don’t want us to fuck this up.” You didn’t add the rest, the part where you’d waited too long to be with him, that every day together felt like a dream and you were waiting for the shoe to drop and wake you back up.

You probably should have just been honest.

One thing Flip was excellent at was shutting down. You read his expression the moment he decided the conversation was over, your stomach flipping over as you saw his disappointment and pain.

“Flip-“

He raised a hand, “Don’t. It’s fine. Let me take you home.” And just like that, he stood up, pulling his wallet out and tossing some cash on the table to pay for your food before turning and walking away. It was this reaction that always, ever since you were stupid teenagers, set your teeth on edge. You couldn’t understand how he didn’t argue, how he didn’t have feelings bubbling up inside that threatened to spill out with every breath. He just took a moment, and then he’d walk away.

It made you want to scream.

Ever the gentleman, he was holding open your door for you when you joined him outside the diner. You settled into your seat, your mind reeling. Did he actually think you didn’t want to live with him? The idea of waking up every day in his arms was a fantasy you harboured for years before the night he showed up at your apartment two years ago. Before you could do more than open the door, he had cupped your face with his big hands and gave you the softest, sweetest kiss you’d ever had. Your knees had nearly given out, it was so perfect.

“Flip,” You began, watching as he started the car, his eyes fixed straight ahead, “Please, I know what you’re doing and I do-“

He froze in the process of reaching to shift the car into gear, his head whipping around at your words, “You know what I’m doing? Really?”

You gazed at him in surprise, but didn’t hesitate to reply, “You’re just giving up-you didn’t hear the exact answer you wanted and now the conversation is just over?”

He huffed out a noise of agitation, hands tensing on the wheel, “(Y/N), we don’t need to beat this around- you don’t think I’m ready, and I don’t think you’ll ever trust me enough to be convinced I am. I can’t see a way around it.”

“You think I don’t trust you?” You gawked at him, emotion swelling in your chest like it always did, bursting out. “That’s what you fucking think?” Your voice had risen now, as your mind began to scream at you that you were an idiot and deserved this fight, deserved this pain, so keep digging the hole.

He didn’t reply, he just gave you a rather pointed look. And then the fucker turned to the road, threw the car in gear and drove you home. You sat in a heavy silence the whole way, your mind swirling with so many thoughts you worried you might throw up. He believed you didn’t trust him, you saw it in his face. It had been like being slapped hearing him suggest that.

You were pulled from your thoughts when the car shuddered to a stop. Looking up, you saw the pathway to your front door. Flip put the car in park but didn’t shut it off. He wasn’t going to come inside.

“Just like that?”

He looked over at you, his expression unreadable. “Let’s just, cool it for a day and we can talk about this some other time.”

“Some other time? You want to just forget this conversation happened?”

“Yeah,” He rasped, voice low, “Yeah, I kind of fucking do.”

Letting out a breath, you shook your head in dismay. You’d been having a great day together before this fucking conversation. Maybe if it hadn’t caught you so entirely off guard, you would have had a better answer to him asking to move in together. Instead, you blurted out your concerns in the worst way and unintentionally hurt his feelings. You were angry at yourself.

“I think I’m going to need some time.” You said, looking away from Flip. He turned toward you in the cab of the car in surprise.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him reach toward you hesitantly before ultimately dropping his hand into his lap. “What do you mean?”

You flinched at the pain in his voice, “It means if you think I don’t trust you then we have bigger issues than I thought. It means we should take a break and think about what we want,” You looked up at him, meeting his dark eyes, “I’m sorry this conversation got away from us. I-I’ll call you.” And without another word, you had climbed out of the car and walked quickly toward your front door, never looking back.

You let yourself break down once you had locked your door, great sobs painfully ripping from your chest. So consumed by shame and anger, you never called him. Flip had left a few messages-all the same, that he missed you and was there whenever you were ready to talk. But you never returned them because it would mean having to admit to him all of the fear that was behind your words that night at the diner.

Maybe he deserved better, and this was his out, you thought.

But then nearly a month passed by and you were so miserable that you spent your free time watching the fucking Price is Right like an old lady and crying yourself to sleep each night.

And now he’d been shot.

++++

“Excuse me!” You waved at the first nurse you saw once you’d entered the emergency department doors, frantically looking around as if Flip would be in the middle of the room.

The nurse paused and gave you a knowing smile as if your current state of undress was something she’d seen many times before. You had been sleeping in a silk pyjama set Flip had gotten for you last Christmas, and you hadn’t bothered to change. You’d simply thrown a cardigan on, not bothering to button it, slipped on your converse and driven to the hospital, ignoring the rules of the road in a fashion that would have gotten you in a lot of trouble with Flip.

You were thankful that it wasn’t too cold out, as the sleep set did little in the way of keeping you warm. Which had been the point, Flip had told you, because he liked holding you while you slept together and he didn’t want you getting too hot. The man was a furnace. The shorts only came mid-thigh, though they were loose-fitting at least. All the same, the amusement on the nurse's face was clear. You would laugh about that later.

“Are you here to see the detective who was shot?” She asked you kindly. You nodded feverishly, and she gestured over your shoulder.

“His colleagues are just in there waiting. You can join them until his nurse comes out for you-shouldn’t be long now honey.”

Thanking the nurse, you spun around and walked into the waiting room. It was a quiet night, the only people in the room were Flip’s partner, Jimmy, fellow detective Ron and Sergeant Trapp. They all looked up as you came into the room, Jimmy standing quickly to meet you.

“(Y/N), it’s alright he’s just fine-“

Your eyes widened at him, “Just fine? He was fucking shot-who the fuck shot him? What the fucking shit happened?”

One of the things that Flip loved about you was your mouth. For various reasons, but he’d always appreciated just how many curse words you could contribute to a basic sentence. It always made him laugh, endeared him to you even as teenagers. All of the men in front of you had to decency to gulp as they took in your dangerous expression.

Ron rubbed his hands down his thighs, “Perp had a partner we were unaware of, Flip caught him sneaking around to ambush Jimmy but the guy got a shot fired off before he took him down.”

You continued to glare at the men and Jimmy cleared his throat, “Perp that shot him is in custody, we booked him before coming straight here.” You crossed your arms, sighing as you nodded curtly.  

You were incredibly worked up despite their assurances. You didn’t trust yourself to speak again. The silence in the room only lasted a few moments before Jimmy spoke up again. “He’s going to be thrilled you’re here, you know. Man hasn’t been right all month.”

“You two sure had one hell of a fight.” Ron supplied, forcing you to respond.

“It was stupid,” You ran your hands across your face, exhausted and filled with regret “Listen, thank you for having his back.”

Before Jimmy could reply, a nurse entered the room and called your name. You quickly followed her out, your heart rate increasing with each step that took you closer to Flip.

He was sitting up when you came into his private room, his face pale but looking otherwise healthy. His arm was well bandaged and skin clean. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of navy briefs you had gotten for him at a sale a few months prior. His lean muscles and broad chest always made you blush-he was just so big, so strong. When he looked up and saw you moving toward him, his mouth opened in surprise. You weren’t sure if it was for the fact that you were there, or if it was from seeing the fiery expression on your face, but before he could do more than choke out your name, you were on him.

Taking great care not to touch his left arm, you wrapped Flip Zimmerman in your arms, leaning across the narrow bed and burying your face into his neck. A sob broke out when you spoke, “I’m so, so fucking sorry, Flip.”

His good arm wrapped around you, pulling you closer so that you had to sit on the bed next to him, tucking yourself into his side. You rested on hand on his chest, just over his heart so that you could feel it beating. He dropped his head and placed a kiss on top of yours, rubbing up and down your back comfortingly.

“Sweet girl,” He breathed, his voice thick, “Missed you so fucking much. I’m so glad you’re here.” He was holding you so tightly, as if afraid you’d disappear.

Tears that had been threatening for a while now broke free, streaming down your face. The emotion bubbling in your chest peaked. “Of course I’m here. Fuck, Flip-you scared the hell out of me.” You pulled back slightly to meet his eyes. They were warm tonight, gazing at you with affection you certainly did not deserve.

“Scared the hell out of myself,” He admitted, raising his free hand to stroke your jaw, pushing your hair over your shoulder, “Thought I’d never see you again, never get to apologize for for-“

You shook your head, abruptly cutting him off, “Flip, it’s me who should be apologizing. I fucked up. I freaked out when you asked to move in together and convinced myself it was the worst idea because you’d realize how uninteresting I really am and how much I’m not worthy of you and you’d want to leave before the moving boxes were fucking unpacked.”

He stilled, his eyes searching yours to seek out how truthful you were being. He looked utterly astonished, “Christ, sweet girl, you really don’t see how much I fucking love you, do you?”

You looked down in shame, “Never really felt like I deserved to be loved by a man like you, Flip Zimmerman.” More tears slipped out, hot on your cheeks.

Flip sighed heavily, his hand sliding to cup one side of your face, thumb tilting you to look up at him. “Woman, you are everything to me. I don’t care anything unless you're with me. Not the sun or the stars or anything in this entire universe, got that? If I have to spend the rest of my life convincing you of that, then I will, but don’t ever say you don’t deserve me. You’re my soulmate, sweet girl. I love you.”

You blinked as the emotion swelled within you at his perfect fucking words, and then you were crashing your lips to his, releasing your hold on him to slide your fingers into his hair and tug his face as close as possible. He responded in kind, deepening the kiss despite your salty tears and trembling body. You both put everything into that kiss, the hospital around you fading away.

It was just the two of you and a million I love you’s.

Eventually, you broke the kiss to breathe, your cheeks and chest flushed. Fuck, you had missed him. Panting, you looked him in the eyes, enjoying the mixture of love and desire they reflected, before you smiled. “I love you too. And I’m moving in this weekend, so you’ll want to get those fuckers in the waiting room to help me so that you can rest up, okay?”

Grinning down at you, Flip kissed your forehead happily. “Yeah, they owe me anyway.” He chuckled, his entire chest rumbling with the deep, warm sound.

And just like that, the worst night of your life became the best and the world felt whole again.

Once Flip was discharged, you took him home, driving much more carefully now and helping him inside when you arrived at his place. Despite the early hours and the lack of sleep, you followed Flip Zimmerman to his bed. You spent the next few hours showing each other how much you loved and missed one another before eventually succumbing to the best sleep you’d had in weeks, curled up against his good side in his bedroom.

Well, you supposed, it was your room now too, wasn't it?

Did you enjoy this story? Please consider reblogging or commenting to ease my inner turmoil as a writer. Likes are basically just a bookmark!

[curligurl0896]

So getting to read @thejakeformerlyknownasprince 's FMA AU reminded me of my own ideas for a FMA/Animorphs fic. A crossover, in this case, a Megamorphs of sorts (complete with rotating narration) because I really want an excuse to have the Animorphs interact with the characters of the FMA universe. I don't have enough ideas worked out to confidently write a whole fanfic yet, so I think I'll just share some of my ideas so that at least they don't stay inside my head forever like the vast majority of ideas that I either never finish enough to post it or just never get around to at all, especially when my brain is always generating new plot bunnies instead of focusing on developing the ones I already have, it's so distracting lol

(Also maybe y'all could give some suggestions if you wanna, I'd definitely appreciate it lol)

Anyway, here it is:

First off, the answer as to how exactly the Animorphs end up in the FMA universe: I was kicking around a few ideas for this, and was originally thinking something along the lines of like, a freak accident that somehow results in them ending up in front of the Gate of Truth, but I think a better idea would be for an alchemist (or perhaps even several alchemists) to end up in the Aniverse, get Yeerkified, and the Yeerk (or Yeerks, as it may be), intrigued by the memories and knowledge of an alternate Earth where you can manipulate matter and shape it according to your will with nothing more than a well drawn chalk circle (or even less than that if you've been through the Gate, as the Yeerk(s) will eventually discover), lured in by the idea of a legendary object that supposedly can be used to circumvent a pesky little law known as Equivalent Exchange, decides to pull something of a "Tom's Yeerk and his Yeerk buddies a la book 52" deciding to start their own colony in the FMAverse where they won't have to answer to the Council of Thirteen or the Visserarchy (well, at least the ones higher ranked than the Yeerk in charge, who, I imagine, would have to be a Sub-Visser at the very least to have the power to arrange all this) in addition to being able to use alchemy, which, much like the morphing power, can be used for a massive variety of things, ranging from merely convenient to pretty damn useful in a pinch to OP as fuck to even just downright terrifying.

It takes a lot of time and meticulous planning, of course, as they have to find a way to transport the Yeerks, their ship, and all the other stuff they'll need to thrive over there through the Gate and into the FMAverse-- all while in a universe where alchemy flat out doesn't work. The Yeerks have to figure out how to get around that issue, and it takes at least a year of research and using their new hosts' alchemical knowledge to work out a solution, but they work it out, and soon enough they get everything set up and ready to go. At some point, the Chee find out about this secret unknown project going on, inform the Animorphs about it, and Jake decides that they should at least check it out on the off chance that it's something big.

That's where the story officially starts: with our team of traumatized teenage shapeshifters at the location where this thing is being set up (haven't figured out the where yet). They've spent the past several days spying on these Yeerks, but still aren't sure what exactly is going on-- they keep talking about opening a gate-- and aren't sure if it's worth it. Marco's convinced the whole thing is ridiculous, especially after overhearing a human Controller mention something about a "Philosopher's Stone" ("What is this, Harry Potter? Are they gonna wave wooden sticks around and yell in Latin?") . Rachel is bored at this point, and just wants to kick ass and call it a day-- they were probably up to no good anyway. Cassie isn't particularly keen on the asskicking part, but she's been having a bad feeling about all this that she can't shake, and Tobias agrees that something fishy is going on and says they should wait a few days-- after all, from what they've gleaned, whatever plans these Yeerks had would be set in motion very soon. Ax, being Ax, declares as usual that he'll just go along with whatever Prince Jake orders, though when Jake presses him about his opinion, he just says he isn't sure what to make of it. In the end, they keep it up for a couple more days, and sure enough, the time comes for the Yeerks to "open the gate", whatever that means.

After all the time they'd spent spying on the Yeerks, it is conveniently now, when the Yeerks are about to do their thing, that they're discovered. It quickly turns into a fight, and the Animorphs attempt to bail as they're soon overwhelmed-- and then the Gate is opened.

None of them had any idea what to expect next. They certainly weren't expecting the blue lightning that erupted around them in a massive circle, seeming to originate from the curving lines that had been so painstakingly carved into the floor. They aren't expecting the atmosphere to turn dark and purple and creepy, or for a giant grey eye to suddenly appear beneath them, or for wavy black tentacle arms to come out of that eye. And they definitely were NOT expecting to abruptly find themselves in the white void of Zerospace.

Only they aren't in Z-space, exactly. Surrounded by it, sure, but somehow they stand there, as if on solid ground, surrounded by the eerie blankness that had once nearly suffocated them to death.

Each Animorph is utterly alone, with nothing and no one else in sight. That is, until they hear a voice, one that sounds like several voices speaking in unison, and suddenly they see a figure-- or, more accurately, an outline of a figure, with only shadows to mark where the figure ended and the void began. The figure is shaped like a human in all but Ax and Tobias's case: the figure Ax sees is shaped like an Andalite, and Tobias's version takes the form of a bird.

Truth gives the whole "I am God, I am the world, and I am also you" speech, then informs them they can't pass through the Gate without payment. Suddenly, there's a huge gateway where previously there was nothing. Truth is unconcerned with the fact that these "A-ni-morphs" have zero clue what's going on-- it simply takes the required toll and sends them on their way.

Except the toll is literal body parts-- which, even then, isn't usually a big deal for an Animorph, but in this case it absolutely is a big deal, because, as they'll soon discover, there's no way they're going to just replace their lost limbs through morphing. It's expressly forbidden for one to simply have nice things in this universe; in other words, Truth isn't letting them off the hook that easily.

The discovery that they're not able to replace their lost body parts through morphing is especially horrifying to Ax, because, well, y'know... book 40. The one that every Ax fan, and really anyone who otherwise genuinely enjoys Ax's character, would like to pretend never fucking happened.

In fact, given Truth's precedent for irony when extracting payment from people who've opened/been through the Gate in the series, I have no doubt in my mind that Ax would end up suffering the exact same fate as Mertil. Andalites, after all, place high value on their tail blades, especially the warriors; it's their number one go-to weapon when shit hits the fan. Ax himself is such a warrior, in fact it's a huge part of who he is as a person. Needless to say I think yeeting Ax's tail blade would be the exact kind of twisted irony that Truth would employ.

He gets over himself eventually-- well, sort of. However, it takes him a long time to truly come to terms with it-- instead of accepting that the attitudes he'd been taught his whole life regarding those who aren't fully able-bodied are actually shit, I feel like he'd be more likely to double down on them, internalizing them, and actually go into full-on self loathing as a result.

He holds his metaphorical tongue, though, upon seeing that Tobias has suffered a payment that is arguably far more cruelly ironic-- given that Tobias is a bird, given that his initial attraction to the morph that eventually became his default body came from the sense of freedom and escapism only provided through flying, I think it's fairly obvious what Truth would take: his wings.

As for the others: Rachel has lost her arm (for basically the same reason Ed did), Cassie loses her hands (which she uses to, you know, help injured animals and stuff), and as for Jake... well, it was a bit of a struggle, the best I could come up with is the idea of him going blind much like Mustang did after being forced to open the Gate (though maybe not for the same reason, though... idk. If anyone has any better suggestions, please let me know lol, I couldn't think of any solid ideas for what body part would be ironic for Jake to lose). Marco is the only one who doesn't lose any outwardly visible body parts-- what he loses is his voice.

At some point, they are discovered, taken into custody by the Amestrian military, and eventually they end up in Colonel Mustang's office. Mustang listens to their story with a massive dose of skepticism. He isn't sure what to make of these bizarre barefoot children, nor their claims of fighting bodysnatching slugs from outer space by turning into animals, nor their wingless pet hawk, nor... well, he could only assume the other creature was some sort of chimera, although he had zero clue what animals could have possibly been used to make something with blue fur and extra eyes.

At this point, they're about to do a morphing demonstration to prove to the Colonel that they aren't completely batshit, when suddenly the door is slammed open, and a teenage boy with blond hair and sharp golden eyes comes sauntering in, accompanied by a hulking giant covered head to toe in a suit of armor.

The boy immediately starts shouting at Mustang, calling him a bastard and accusing him of wasting his time, to which Mustang responds by merely rolling his eyes and sighing, as if this sort of thing happens all the time (spoiler alert: it does). After a moment, the kid stops as he takes notice of the other kids standing in the room.

"So," he says, calmly, as if he wasn't yelling at his superior just a moment ago, "what's the deal with these fuckers?"

The casual use of the kind of language that would have surely landed them in hot water back home was quite shocking, but they don't comment on it. Instead, Rachel says, in a voice sweet as honey, "Oh, look, Marco. He's just as short as you are."

Before Marco could turn to glare daggers at her (come on, it wasn't like he could argue back in that moment), the boy goes absolutely ballistic, and the armored guy has to physically restrain him as he screams obscenities at Rachel ("The fuck did you just call me, you freakishly oversized bitch? I'll show you too-fucking-short-to-fucking-sit-at-the-fucking-table-without-a-fucking-booster-seat! Call me short one more fucking time, I fucking dare you to! You think I give a shit that you're a girl? I'll fuck that pretty face of yours right up, just you fucking wait--")

"Brother!" The armored guy cries. "Calm down!" Then, to the Animorphs: "I'm sorry about my brother's behavior. He's, um, a bit sensitive about his height."

"A bit sensitive" is the understatement of the century, but none of the Animorphs call him out on it. They're too dumbfounded by the sound of his voice, which sounds sweet, innocent, and, despite his size, sounds like it belonged to a boy no more than nine or ten years old.

And that's where I'm going to leave it for now, since I've spent way too long on this post already. I have a few other ideas, but mostly in bits and pieces, not really any more comprehensive plot points beyond this point. Please do let me know what you think!

[cl-01-kestis]

Shut Me Up - Jerome Valeska x Female Reader | Part 1

Summary: it’s been revealed that Jerome was the killer all along, you can’t process the information and try and convince yourself to visit Arkham Asylum to have a word with him.

Prologue <

Warnings: None

It was a few days since your encounter with the strange circus boy, Jerome. You had a hard time getting him off your mind, especially with loads of schoolwork and your job on the agenda.

Your father and Leslie didn’t update you about anything to do with the case about Lila Valeska, you were eager to know but whenever you asked Jim he’d push it to the side with a clenched jaw and tense figure. It didn’t make any sense to you as to why he was hiding stuff from you, you were one of the only, if not the only person to comfort Jerome when he was crumbling about his mother’s death. It’s understandable as to why you’d want to know who was behind this diabolical crime.

Thankfully, you remembered you had Harvey and visited him at the GCPD whilst your dad was away on some other mission. Leslie was in the morgue so you were in luck, Harvey could help you discover who was behind the murder.

For some reason, it took a hell of a lot more convincing than you expected, Harvey was stubborn and insisted it was best if you didn’t find out. He was acting strange, secretive. If there’s one thing you hated, it was being lied to.

Harvey tried telling you it was no use but you were desperate, Jerome had such an impact on you it was almost scary. You’d never acted this way towards someone before, especially to do with one of your fathers cases. Harvey eventually gave in due to your constant bickering and whining about him keeping secrets from you. He warned you multiple times about preparing yourself for what you were about to see as he guided you into one of the empty security rooms which was dark, tv screens and camera feeds airing through.

You sat yourself down on one of the seats, Harvey sitting in the one beside you and typing in something in one of the computer data bases of the GCPD. It took less than a minute for a security camera feed to pop up and cackle to life on the screen before you, revealing your Dad and the boy who was on your mind constantly.

“Again, please prepare yourself” Harvey whispered, turning up the volume of the feed so you could hear it better.

You watched intensely as the interrogarion filtered out between your dad and Jerome. He was crying, that poor boy. Your heart ached for him and you wish you were there as the interrogation went on. But, slowly you started realising something wasn’t right.

Jim started accusing Jerome of killing his own mother, the boy looked completely appalled at your dads accusation and you were too. How could he say that?

“Don’t be deceived” Harvey butted in once again, fast forwarding the camera feed and stopping it to point at Jerome’s face.

Something was wrong. A new man was sitting next to Jerome, a blind man with a walking stick and grey hair. Jerome was crying, his head ducked and eyes squeezed shut. But everything around you seemed to shut off when the ginger headed boy started laughing to himself, shoulders bobbing with each chuckle he made. You felt your heart drop when his emotional facade came to a close and his eyes held such evil and darkness. This wasn’t the Jerome you met at the circus.

“Why did you kill your mother, Jerome?” Your dad asked, hands pressed on the desk as he faced Jerome with a face full of thunder.

“Oh, you know how mothers are,” Jerome scoffed. “She just kept pushing... and I’m like, fine, mom. Be a whore, be a drunken whore, even. But don’t be a nagging, drunken whore” Jerome’s voice growled with venom as he finished his sentence, his words catching you completely off guard as you watched through tears and leaned back in your seat. Harvey watched with sympathy as you covered your mouth with one hand.

“I don’t believe it” You choked, leaning forward and pressing your elbows onto the desk as you hid your face in your hands. Harvey awkwardly patted your back, trying to comfort you as you sobbed quietly to yourself, to pity yourself that you’d been so oblivious.

“I gave him so much support, I told him about my past- oh fuck Harvey what am I going to do if he’s after me?” You panicked, gripping the sides of your hair as you lowered your head and sniffed back more tears. Harvey was quick to assure you.

“The lunatics been locked up in Arkham, you’ll be glad to know. He’s not getting anywhere near you anytime soon” The detective said, you looked up through your hands and breathed out a sigh of relief. You rubbed away the tears only to have more falling down as you tried to compose yourself.

“Jim didn’t want you knowing because he knew you’d react this way, he’s just looking out for you, kid” Harvey rubbed your shoulder before leaning over and switching off the camera feed, only for you to stop him halfway.

“I need a moment Harvey, I’m going to look over this stuff” You sighed, turning to face the computer once again and finding your way around the controls, reversing the feed so it went all the way back to the start. Harvey wanted to say something, he certainly didn’t want you to hear more of what was yet to come in the tape.

“I’ll leave you to it, but you got 10 minutes” He pointed his index finger at you in a warning manner before saying his farewells and leaving the room, closing the door behind him so you could bathe in the darkness and soil in your grief as you replayed the feed.

Whilst you were watching the interrogation, you felt sick to your stomach as Jerome laughed like a maniac and started talking to Jim about you. You felt scared, targeted by the most insane man you’d ever met, well, seen. You didn’t understand why he’d done this, why he’d drag you along with his little act and make you out to be a fool. It destroyed you more than it should’ve.

Jerome smiled and spoke about you in a somewhat positive manner, at least not threatening Jim by doing anything to you as he sat back in his chair cockily and continued giggling. You tried not letting the butterflies get to you when he said different sugar coated words that were bitter sweet.

“That girl back there was so sweet; ...yours, isn’t she, Gordon? Certainly gets my blood pumping, seeing that innocent face of hers... poor thing, thinking I was a good little boy” Jerome teased, grinning from ear to ear as he cackled. Your dad looked like he was about to kill Jerome, balling his fists and clenching his jaw as Jerome continued taunting him with crude words and snarky comments. You couldn’t take anymore of the torment and switched off the feed, standing up from your seat and leaving in a hurry whilst trying not to get caught by either Jim or Leslie.

Ever since then, you’ve been struggling with trusting anyone at all, even your own dad. You stopped opening up to people because of Jerome, you stopped being who you used to be. Of course, you were still friendly and kind, happy and bubbly, but you didn’t say anything to anyone about your family or personal life. You had over shared your life to a psychopath who slaughtered his own mother, it’s safe to say you have a reason for not opening up to anyone now a days.

It’s been around a week since Jerome was sent to Arkham and to say the least, it was taking a toll on you. With exams coming up and endless studying, you couldn’t seem to get your head down and concentrate because of the handsome red headed deranged teenager. Your dad occasionally checked in on you about Jerome and how you were feeling, usually you said you had to study which always ended with him giving up on trying to get you to open up to him and leave your room.

You and your dad didn’t always get along since the very beginning. He adopted you when you were 9 years old and at first you didn’t like him. You didn’t speak to him very much and spent little to no time trying to get on with him because of your traumatic past. You came from an orphanage with abusive caretakers and nuns, other girls like you were just the same when they were adopted by couples or single parents. However, as the years went by, you warmed up to Jim and started speaking to him like a daughter would with her father. He became the only person you ever trusted and it was still the same to this day. Jim fought hard to help you, he fought hard to keep you in his care and bring you up as his own considering he never had the chance to have his own kids. He adopted you in his mid 20’s with not much experience of being a parent so your relationship was strange to say the least.

When you started high school, that’s when you started changing and forming a new identity. The girl who was once vulnerable and terrified of human contact and so much as speaking to someone was finally blossoming into an outspoken omnivert who’s curiosity outshone everything around her. Jim was proud to say the absolute least, his girl was growing up and now, here you were at 17 years old, almost graduated high school and spending more time with him than you ever had in your life.

Jim knew how much caring about someone fragile meant to you. You thoughtlessly cared for people who were complete strangers but were suffering of some kind. That’s why when you comforted Jerome, he had a feeling it would turn in a different direction. And it did, it did alright. It was worse than anything he ever imagined which is why he never wanted you to find out about Jerome’s true character. Your heart was too fragile for this kind of stuff, your empathy and sympathy towards people was your downfall and for all Jim knew, Jerome could’ve killed you if he wanted to. The thought made him shiver alone.

When Jim was off to work and left you alone in the house, he had a horrible feeling something would happen to you and he wasn’t there to protect you. Even though Jerome was locked up in Arkham, he couldn’t help but worry. Of course he had to worry, his father instincts were hammering him and he hated leaving you alone, considering there were a few occasions when you got caught up in a couple of his cases and ended up being put in danger.

Jerome was different though, unlike the others Jim could see that you really cared, or used to care, for Jerome. You never formed any connections with any of your dads cases but Jim could see the look in your eyes when you bid the red head farewell. Your eyes were full of sadness and sympathy, Jim had never seen you look so upset before, so the fact Jerome turned out to be the complete opposite of what he seemed to be was the worst possible thing to happen. Jim kept the tapes and recordings of the interrogation away from you, covering up the truth with assuring lies that seemed to keep your curiosity and urgency at bay. But you were one step ahead of him and knew everything there was to know.

Jerome was a cold blooded killer, a killer with an innocent act you were so stupid to fall for. You weren’t worried about being killed, it wasn’t the first thing you thought about. It was the fact that Jerome was buried in your mind like a parasite. His crocodile tears and whimpers invested themselves in your memory and you could only see Jerome as a sweet, gentle teenager. You hated the way you felt whenever he crossed your mind, you certainly weren’t the type to get caught up with a boy but this was different.

Everything felt different.

-

You were finding it hard to keep your composure as you stood in front of the gates to Arkham Asylum. It was 3pm in the afternoon and it had been a while since you’d viewed Jerome’s interrogation tapes. You held your coat tight to your body and waited to be let in, leaning on your toes and rolling your balance back to your heels in an attempt to distract yourself from tie burning anxiety cackling in your stomach and chest.

You gave Arkham Asylum a call before you arrived, so you were expected and it saved you from explaining yourself as to why you were here.

“You must be (Y/N) Gordon, follow me please” A man dressed in a white shirt and a doctors coat unlocked the gate and let you inside, closing it with a loud clash behind you which made you jump suddenly. You didn’t like this, but you had to remind yourself that you’d be here for a short moment and then you’d never have to visit again. You were here for one thing only, and that was Jerome.

You reluctantly followed the man into the main entrance of Arkham, hearing yells and screams from the windows of cells around the building. You weren’t entirely terrified but you were wary enough to fear for your own health as you entered the building and took off your coat.

The man lead you down hallways and past many cells where insane inmates rattled the bars that replaced the small window in the door. You tried not to be intimidated by them but you’d never been in this sort of environment before.

Eventually, you were led into a room which was full of booths, the room separated in half by a long stripe of glass. There was stalls to sit at, boards at either side so there was a form of privacy within the person and whoever they were visiting.

“Mr Valeska will be happy to have a visitor, if anything happens please report it to me and I’ll have it taken care of” The man nodded to one of the stalls at the end, leading you to it and pointed out a small red button at the front of the table. It was an emergency button, in case of any emergency’s.

“Thank you” You mumbled, sitting down in the seat and exhaling out a shaky breath. The man left and closed the door, the noise of it slamming scared you briefly but you quickly composed yourself and cleared your throat.

You kept your feet flat against the ground, legs fairly spread as you sat comfortably in the chair and held your coat in your lap. You waited for a few minutes at most, tapping your fingers against the table which was split in half by the glass and hearing the sound echo around the visiting room. No one else was here, it was clear this wasn’t a popular day for visiting inmates, lucky for you.

A loud buzzer rung out in the room and you almost fell out of your seat as a result, placing a hand on your chest and feeling your heart speed up in your chest as the door on the other side opened.

Two guards walked in, holding a familiar ginger by each arm and leading him to the booth you were sitting at. Jerome’s face was empty until his eyes met yours, smiling the same creepy smile he had in the recording of his interrogation.

“You’ve got half an hour” One of the guards said in a stern voice before leaving the room and slamming the door shut. Silence was cut short when Jerome started giggling to himself, straining in his handcuffs as his hands rest on the table.

“Well look who came to visit me! I must say, it’s nice seeing your pretty face again” Jerome snarled with a grin on his face, his eyes narrowing slightly as they looked into yours.

“Why did you lie to me?” You cut to the chase, crossing your arms as a glare made its way onto your face. Jerome only laughed.

“Not even a hello? You’re boring” He repositioned his arms so his elbows rest on the table and his hands held his face. You didn’t lean back and instead moved closer, you weren’t scared of him.

“I don’t have time for games, Jerome, I trusted you!” You slammed your fist against the table, frowning as Jerome continued smiling as if you’d told a funny joke. This whole thing was a joke to him.

“Trusted me huh, that’s your mistake, doll” His voice lowered a tiny bit and the fact he was right made your blood boil. You clenched your fists, looking away from his face and down at your hands.

“What, are you sad because the person you had so much faith in turned out to be crazy? News flash! We’re in Gotham! Sorry I hurt your precious feelings, doll” Jerome started getting meaner with his statements, leaning closer so his head was inches from the glass. You didn’t move, you didn’t even feel like replying, but you were stuck in a room with him for the next half hour so it wasn’t like you could just leave.

“Stop calling me that” You hissed at the red head, feeling hopeless as he started cackling and leaned back in his chair, cuffed hands still on the table.

“Nope,” Jerome started, putting emphasis on popping the p.

“You are, you remind me of one; small and fragile, easy to break... easy to tear apart” His voice was low and had a seductive ring to it, but you weren’t going to let his words hurt you. He was terrifying as it was, but there was a wall of glass between you. You had nothing to fear.

“I’ll have you know I’m none of those things, you know nothing about me” You snapped back.

“Oh really? What about that time at the GCPD when we were outside the Interrogation room? From what I recall... you were an orphan, lost both of her parents, no siblings and no real family there for her. You’re favourite colour is red, you like cats, especially the ginger kind, that’s what you said right?” He smirked. You stared wide eyed at the psychotic teen sitting in front of you, horrified as you looked away once again and tried swallowing down the lump in your throat.

“You go to Gotham high school, you’re 17- oh! And your father’s Jim Gordon” Jerome continued, grinning from ear to ear as he watched your eyes begin to glisten with tears. You looked back up at him and Jerome swore he saw a fire in your eyes.

“You know, my mother never loved me. She never cared about what I did or where I went, she always spent her time fucking strangers and getting high, she neglected me most of my childhood... do you know what that’s like?” Jerome’s smile faded and he looked at you with a stone cold serious face, eyes boiling into your soul as he clasped his hands together and tilted his head to the side.

“I do” Was all you said in reply, gripping your upper arms as you fought back tears. Jerome smiled once again and winked at you in some form of congrats that you’d actually made common ground with him about something.

“Did your real mommy and daddy leave you?” Jerome pouted, putting on a baby voice as you sniffed and started slipping, tears falling at last and the lump in your throat taking over.

“Stop it” You whimpered.

“Oh but it’s true, they left you at that orphanage, didn’t they? Poor little baby, all alone... but I know,” Jerome lowered the volume of his voice so it was barely above a whisper. He looked at you as though you were the only thing that mattered, it made your stomach churn in a good and bad way. You tried denying his lingering, sincere gaze but your eyes betrayed you.

“How can you understand? Your mother may have not looked after you but at least she didn’t throw you away” You snapped, gritting your teeth together in anger as Jerome stated silent for a few seconds.

“I may not know what it’s like to be given away, but I know what it’s like to have no one there for me. You’ve been alone your whole life, all by yourself, but not anymore... you have me now” Jerome’s Cheshire-like grin returned to his face and you were so close to feelingc comfortable around him. Now you felt the same nauseating sensation buried in your stomach that was only there when he was around.

“You can go to hell if you think I’m coming back here, you’re lucky I even came here-“

“Yeah, your right, I am lucky” Jerome snapped, resting his chin on the palm of his hand and blinking up at you with eyes that didn’t exactly scream insanity. You had yourself on the edge of a sharp knife, you kept wobbling about whether to get the hell out of Arkham, or stay and take time to see Jerome, if he was really as insane as you thought he was.

“You amuse me, doll,” Jerome purred.

“You know, you’re the first person to ever treat me with compassion. Not even my mother held me in her arms like you did... it was a strange experience” The red head looked at your eyes and down to your lips, biting the inside of his cheek as his hands played with the cuffs. You tried looking away but his eyes held you in place.

“I didn’t ever get enough of it; affection, it’s my instinct to give what I never received” You said, not much emotion in your voice but Jerome seemed to be impressed with himself that he got a sincere reply.

“Shame really, if I hadn’t been caught, do you think you would’ve fallen in love with me?” Jerome smirked, licking his teeth teasingly as you tensed in your seat and let out a frustrated sigh. The tension in the visiting room was thick and the two of you looked at each other with narrow eyes. You no longer felt anger or disgust towards Jerome, he was still an insane inmate at an asylum so you couldn’t let your guard down too fast.

“It’s too late to ask that, Jerome” Was the last thing you said before the buzzer from earlier rung out in the room, signifying that your visit with Jerome had come to an end. The red heads eyes were wide with shock, he wanted to say something but the two guards from before came in and grabbed his arms.

“Goodbye, Jerome” You mumbled, standing up from your seat and waiting for him to leave before you did. The door on your side opened and out came the man who escorted you in.

“Well, that went pleasantly well” He smiled, watching as the door on the other side opened and closed. You nodded once, not saying anything as the man turned around and lead you out.

“Would you like me to send updates about Jerome’s behaviour?” The man turned his head to ask you.

“Oh no, I’m okay thank you” You cleared your throat, looking behind you as you walked out into the hallway outside the visiting room, feeling like Jerome’s eyes were still on you the whole time.

You had to get out of here.

[tumblezwei]

Why Kyoko Mogami is the GOAT

And why y’all are SLEEPING ON HER

Spoilers for Skip Beat, but honestly idk how much of the story I’m gonna get into for this since I’m flying by the seat of my pants. Still, read at your own risk.

Also this is LONG lmao

Kyoko Mogami is a 16 year old middle school drop-out that works two jobs day and night in order to pay rent for the Tokyo apartment that she lives in all by herself 6 days out of the week. Going into the first chapter, there are three things immediately clear about her. 

1. She’s cheerful, kind, and also kind of batshit insane. From the first moment we meet her, her personality is throwing itself at our faces and refusing to calm down. (apologies for the bad quality images, I work with what I have)

2. She loves Sho Fuwa, her childhood friend and rising rock-star that asked Kyoko to come with him to Tokyo after middle school graduation to support his career

3. Nothing matters to her as long as Sho is happy. Sure, she laments that her love for girly dresses, cosmetics, and fairy tale princesses will never amount to anything since all of her money is going toward paying the rent on her and Sho’s apartment, but that’s fine. As long as her precious Sho is happy, so is she. 

And, as you’d expect, things go to shit pretty quickly afterwards. During one her off days from her night job, Kyoko decides to visit Sho at his recording studio with dinner. After sneaking in past the hoards of squealing teenage girls waiting outside to catch a glimpse of him, she overhears him talking to his manager. 

“I’m the heir to a prominent Japanese inn, do you think I’ve ever cooked or cleaned all by myself?” She hears. 

“That’s awful,” the manager replies, “you make it sound as if you brought her just to be your maid.”

“She’s basically been my maid since I was a kid, or else I wouldn’t have brought her along with me. It’s not like I forced her, I asked her a question and gave her the choice. It’s only natural that she’d work her butt off to support me.” 

And he just keeps going. Once he’s made enough to live independently, he’ll send her back. How dare his parents try to set him up with a plain-looking girl like her. She doesn’t even wear make-up! 

As images of flash in Kyoko’s mind of standing in front of make-up stores with no money to buy anything, she takes Sho’s words just as well as one might expect. By unleashing the box of tucked away emotions she’s held in her chest and swearing to take revenge on Sho for using her and throwing her away like this.

. I failed to mention this at the start, but the beginning of the chapter introduces us to the most important piece of symbolism in Kyoko’s character development: Pandora’s box. 

For Kyoko’s entire life, she’s held this box inside herself. In myth, once this box was opened, all of the evil of the world is unleashed, never to be put back inside. So for Kyoko, the metaphor is quite apt. Hearing Sho’s words unlocks the box and unleashes a kind of anger that not even Kyoko knew she was capable of, a kind of determination and vengeance that has her dyeing her hair and staking outside of a talent manager’s house for days on end to whittle down his willpower and give her a chance to audition at Sho’s rival talent agency, LME. Every time she hears his name, or sees his picture, she’s filled with myopic sense of rage that no one can calm her down from. 

Her sole mission in life is to get revenge on Sho Fuwa, a sentiment that finds her at odds with LME’s top actor, Ren Tsuruga, who sees her one-sided quest for vengeance as an insult to people who truly love acting. But as if Kyoko cares, she needs to get revenge! 

I’m gonna drop the pseudo-narration for a bit because I actually need to skip over a fair bit of plot to get to what I think makes Kyoko incredibly compelling, outside of being the funniest female character in existence. We’re going to jump forward in time to Kyoko’s first acting gig. Well, not so much an gig as much as it is a competition. She’s been tasked to play the role of a dignified inn keeper that’s serving tea to the main male character. After having broken her ankle and been challenged by the real lead actress, this is her first shot to prove she has the talent to make it in the acting industry. So in order to immerse herself in the role, she utilizes her experience of being trained by Sho’s mother to take care of the inn that his family owned. It’s here that we finally understand that Kyoko giving up her life back home for Sho wasn’t just a spur of the moment decision brought about by infatuation. It was something she’d been doing for her entire life. Everything she knows how to do, every skill she’s obtained, has been because of Sho. And this is the moment that she realizes that fact too. (the first image is from after the scene is done, wherein Kyoko cannot snap herself out of her character due to the lessons she was taught as a child, despite her sitting position making her broken ankle unbearably painful). 

Even her righteous fury at being left in the dust is focused solely on Sho fucking Fuwa. Is there anything that she has than can be attributed to her own success? Does she have any skills that can’t be traced back to trying to make Sho happy? Who is Kyoko Mogami? Is she worth anything without Sho? 

And I want to make this clear right now, because I know the term “shoujo” makes people hesitate. THIS is what Skip Beat is about. Kyoko’s journey to find out who she is, and with every new role she takes on and with every experience she gains, she becomes just a little closer to finding out who she is and what she wants for herself. 

We watch as her love for acting slowly eclipses her thirst for revenge. A few arcs after this moment, she is contacted about a job to act in a music PV with none other than Sho himself. In the beginning, she accepts the job in order to prove to Sho that she’s climbing the ladder and catching up to him, but her performance suffers whenever she thinks about her revenge. And what saves her isn’t even putting aside her revenge, but prioritizing her own feelings above it. She wants to act! She wants to put on a good performance! So she needs to put aside those feelings of anger and draw from her past experiences to create a character that leaves Sho in the dust. 

I’m gonna bet y’all are wondering about the romance, though. Because this is a shoujo, and of course it has romance. But hey, guess what? That romance is equally compelling and is an integral part to Kyoko’s character too. In the first....5 or so arcs, Ren Tsuruga ‘s relationship with Kyoko crawls it’s way out of the it’s rocky beginnings, and he slowly becomes a mentor figure to Kyoko. He’s her superior in acting, and she looks to him often for support and guidance when she’s struggling to perform a role or having difficulty with her fellow actors. To Kyoko, Ren is the goal, his level of acting is what she aspires to be, so she can stand on equal footing with him. Before there’s even a whiff of romance between them, there develops a solid bond of trust and support. And once the romance starts. Hoo boy. 

To fully understand why it’s taken 12 years irl for a confession scene to finally take place, we need to bring back the metaphor of Pandora’s box. Because not everything escaped Pandora’s box when it was opened. Pandora was able to shut the box just in time for one thing to stay locked inside: hope. In the myth, this is a good thing, while negative and vile emotions run free, hope still exists within people to become better. But for Kyoko, the box isn’t a safe place, it’s a repressed place. She spent her entire life locking away the negative emotions she felt, placing a smile on her face and hoping for Sho’s happiness. And when those emotions are set lose, she locks the box back up, sealing something else inside. Her hope, her confidence in anything having to do with love. 

It’s not just that Kyoko isn’t in love anymore, she feels as if she can’t be in love anymore, that she’s entirely incapable of it. The idea of falling in love with someone else terrifies her. What if she goes back to the way she was before? An empty shell that exists for other people and not herself. The box has been sealed tightly again, and by God this time she’s not going to let anything open it. And like, I don’t want to spoil much in this, as contradictory as that sounds. Because the scene where she realizes she loves Ren? One of the best fucking scenes in any romance manga ever. 

And. God. I haven’t even touched on her mom. Kyoko’s desire for love, that became so warped under Sho and so desolate after his betrayal, can all stem back to Saena Mogami. A woman who, no matter what Kyoko did, rejected any affection that her child tried to give, and gave none in return. “Even a mother can hate her own child.” We get bits and pieces of what Kyoko’s mother was like, and the environment that a very young Kyoko was raised in before her mother left her in the care of Sho’s parents. And eventually we realize that Kyoko isn’t afraid of her love being rejected twice, but a third time. 

Like, y’all, I’m not good at these kind of essays. I keep wanting to go off on tangents, nothing is ever focused, I spend to much time just reading the manga instead of writing this fucking post. But please believe me when I tell you that Kyoko Mogamis character development is like none other. She’s truly at the top of her genre and it’s an actual crime that she’s so underrated. 

I HAVEN’T EVEN TALKED ABOUT KANAE, THE WEISS TO HER RUBY, THE TSUNDERE TO HER GENKI

Before Kyoko gets even a single arc with Ren, she gets two with Kanae. The first with Kanae as a central figure, and the second where Kanae is her support. She’s the one that gives Kyoko the eureka moment she needs to pull of her performance with Sho. They are one of the most developed and deep friendships in shoujo that I’ve ever seen AND Y’ALL NEED TO STOP SLEEPING ON IT. LOOK AT THESE TWO

And don’t take this poorly assembled post at face value, I’ve left out a lot of shit. Starting with how fucking funny this manga is. Kyoko’s special talent for her LME audition is peeling vegetables, there’s a running gag where Ren asks for her advice while she’s in a giant chicken costume, unaware that it’s her, the president of LME is an eccentric millionaire that likes to dress up in different themed costumes every day and loves throwing extravagant parties, Kyoko’s hobby is making voodoo dolls and talks to a miniature Ren doll whenever she needs encouragement or advice. 

And it’s all packaged alongside some of the most compelling character development I’ve ever seen (for both Kyoko and Ren), and some absolutely heartbreaking drama. You will never know true pain until “I don’t have a daughter.”

Read this, ya’ll. You won’t regret it. 

[sweetestlamb]

Teenage Dream Pt. 2

Summary: Mun-Yeong learns that Gang-Tae has an admirer, she handles it very well. 

Notes: So, I really had fun playing with blushingshy! GT and aggressivepossessive! MY, I thought the high school au would be the perfect place to have some fun with their roles, I love domGT to bits but domMY does something special to me. I tried to incorporate things you guys said in the comments for part 1, so if you see your idea in the story thank you for the suggestion! This has smut but I am also enjoying the slow burn of their teenage years, so no full sex yet. Blame GT he wouldn’t stop blushing long enough to get ridden. All in due time. Anyway, here’s part 2 enjoy lovelies! 

 In all actuality, she hadn't expected him to approach her that night. Had felt his eyes on her several times at school, Seung-Jae jokingly labelled him her "not so secret admirer" but she wasn't sure if he actually liked her. She was aware that people considered her popular, a byproduct of wealthy parents with celebrity status, therefore people thought they should like her. The same way you liked a useful tool, she wasn't naive enough to believe that her classmates liked her genuinely. Most of them didn't even know what her stories were about, couldn't see past the grotesque imagery and hidden messages. In reality she knew they found her strange, pretty but too different to truly understand  but they played their parts well, fake smiles plastered on. 

So, she only had Seung-Jae  and that was fine by her, one great friend was infinitely better than a thousand faux friends, who only viewed her as a means to an end. But then he approached her and he was just precious, for goodness sakes he had complimented her school uniform of all things, even his constant stuttering and nervousness had been cute. None of her short stories were about damsels who needed saving, writers honestly needed to get past that ancient trope, yet she found herself playing that role with him. He would show up whenever she needed him, slaying all the dragons that stood in her way and asking nothing in return. It made it easy to give him everything, she'd never met anyone quite like Moon Gang-Tae. She hadn't planned on getting a boyfriend, too focused on school and her goals of being a writer, but he had stumbled into her life and she didn't know how to pass up beautiful things. Being with him was effortless in a way she'd never experience with another person, he listened to her and made her feel like she was important and enough as simply Ko Mun-Yeong, not the daughter of Ko Dae-Hwan and Do Hee-Jae . He had once told her as she cried quietly in soft of his collar, "You belong to you." Oblivious to the fact that he possessed a piece of her too, a piece she'd given willingly, no take backs. She was happy and it terrified her. Which, explained why the universe decided to tip her boat of happiness. She stood waiting for him, in the same spot they had been meeting for weeks now, their spot, not to be confused with their other spot outside where he often waited with her for Sang-In, who she had  recently informed commanded to take a scenic route from now on when picking her up, cherishing every second extra she spent with Gang-Tae. It was his first day back since his untimely suspension, she had visited him everyday under the ruse of bringing him school notes, his mother would smile as she greeted her at the door. Unsuspecting that as soon as they were alone, studying was the last thing on their minds. It was beneficial for science class though, she was learning key information about the male anatomy. Excitement bubbled up as she waited for his arrival, fixing her hair and then immediately moving it back to its original position. Agitated at her nerves, it was unsettling to say the least, no one had this affect on her. His smile was brilliant, when he spotted her, his eyes scoping her out like he had a radar system solely for tracking her, he easily walked away from his friend leaving him mid sentence, closing the space between them with a few wide steps, courtesy of those long legs. Suddenly, it wasn't fast enough, she needed to be in his arms, sooner, now and she propelled forward, rushing to meet him halfway. They bounded to each other like long last lovers who were finally reunited, torn apart by the cruelties of an unfair life. She watched him drop a bag carelessly on the ground as he reached her and grabbed her by her waist, immediately she reciprocated his hold, throwing her arms around his neck. With ease, he lifted her up off her tiptoes, her feet left dangling inches off the ground as he effortlessly supported her body weight. She let out a soft gasp, always shocked by his unassuming displays of strength. She snuggled her face into his neck, it was flame red and and she yearned to kiss it. After a short consideration, she pressed a light kiss into his neck, his soft gasp music to her ears. Tightening his hold, he swayed them side to side, inhaling the scent of her intoxicating shampoo. Unbeknownst to them, Jae-Su looked on in disgust and horror, he hadn't even gotten a chance to finish his story before Gang-Tae had taken off, he rolled his eyes watching their dramatic reunion. They hadn't seen each other for two days; Saturday and Sunday, yet they were acting as if Gang-Tae had just returned from military service. He'd known Gang-Tae for a much more substantial number of years, and he was never greeted in such a fashion. He stomped past them grumbling under his breath, "You never hug me like that, I have to beg for any affection." Unfortunately, Gang-Tae's ears were occupied listening to Mun-Yeong's soft breaths and his complaints were left unheard. Mun-Yeong was the first to disturb the hug, drawing back until they were face to face, but still locked in their tender hold. She couldn't help the exuberant smile that spread across her face, "I'm so happy you're back. I missed you." She watched with amused eyes as his signature blush colored his face, his adorable grin tempted her to kiss him right then and there. It was only his next words that halted her, "I got you something." He finally broke their hold, she suppressed her sigh, and he picked up the bag he had discarded prior to their hug. She clapped her hands in excitement, she adored surprises. He reached into the bag smiling at her adorable response and handed her a plastic cup filled with milky brown liquid, her eyes lit up in recognition. "It's coffee milk. I went to the coffee shop you like, that's why I'm late, I'm sorry didn't mean to keep you waiting." His glossy brown eyes stared at her, apologetic and pleading. She giggled before finally giving into her previous urge, yanking his checkered collar, bringing his face close enough to kiss. His eye was huge but he didn't resist, allowing her to draw him in. She curled her free hand around his thick neck, leaning up to capture his slack mouth. He tasted like cereal, sweet and succulent and she chased the taste with her tongue, licking into his moist mouth before he returned the favor. His tongue insistent in her mouth, gasping when she pulled his bottom lip hungrily. She let out a surprised puff of air, as he walked forward forcing her to retreat until her back met the hard wall. He placed a broad hand on her back, dragging her deeper into the kiss as the other cradled her head. Time slowed down as they kissed, wet sounds filling the air. Their mouths broke apart only to come back together, time and time again. A loud cough sounded off to her right, she willfully ignored it, lost in the flavors of her boyfriend. But the cough continued followed by an obnoxious clearing of the throat, she pulled away to shout at whoever was interrupting them only to meet the eyes of her best friend. "You do realize that you're in public right and that you're giving everyone a free show?" Seung-Jae asked eyes never looking up from her phone, her fingers flying across the touch screen, most likely on Tumblr again. As she took a moment to catch her breath, her eyes scanned the hallway and yes, all eyes were on them. Thankfully no teachers but their classmates were looking on with gaping mouths. Some even had their phones out, she glowered at them until they hurriedly hid them shamed-face, before snapping back to Gang-Tae. He was painfully shy, she knew his face would be alight and she was right. He glowed scarlet red above, satisfaction settled in her belly, poor baby. Looking down at her watch with a despondent sigh, she brought the gifted drink to her lips, still tingling from the passionate kiss. His eyes followed the motion, lingering on her mouth. "Thank you for the coffee milk. You were even more delicious though." She teased, hearing him groan in embarrassment. "Come on girl, we need to get to class. " Seung-Jae impatiently interrupted again, tapping her feet now, code for hurry the fuck up. "Alright I'm coming." She picked up her fallen book bag, swinging it over her shoulder, before Gang-Tae's arm shot out grasping the bag in his large hand. "I can carry it." He said in the softest voice, sounding like he was being given a gift, she'd forgotten how he seemingly couldn't stand to see her carry anything. Just adorable. "No. No, lover boy. You go to your class, we don't have time for another long goodbye. She can carry a book bag." Gang-Tae's eyes shifted to hers pleadingly and she almost lost her resolve, but she knew her friend was right, if he carried her bag she would notice his arms and how muscular they were and that would lead to her wanting to kiss him again and this ferocious cycle would repeat. With an apologetic hand on his smooth cheek, she shook her head, "She's right, you shouldn't be late on your first day back. I'll see you later." He nodded, subconsciously swaying into her hand before she pulled it away. Suddenly she was violently yanked away by her book bag, Seung-Jae's patience all but worn out. She longingly looked back at Gang-Tae, blowing him a kiss. If she hadn't spun around to threaten her best friend for being so aggressive, Do you have a death wish? She would have seen him catch the kiss, delicately putting it in his pocket.

She'd always judged girls around school who couldn't stand to be away from their boyfriends, rolling skeptical eyes at their dependency, she was already whole no other half needed, thank you. So when she found herself thinking of Gang-Tae, unable to focus on the teacher's voice, affronted annoyance seared in her blood. What was he doing to her? Mentally berating herself for her weakness, she rose her hand, catching the teacher's attention. "May I use the bathroom?" She requested, already knowing the response would be yes, this was one of her best classes and missing a few insignificant minutes wouldn't alter her high standing. She grabbed the pass at the teacher's nod, avoiding Seung-Jae's suspicious glance. She didn't need her negativity, weren't best friends supposed to be supportive? Hers was clearly defective. She told herself she would use the bathroom after checking on Gang-Tae, see how his first day back was going, merely good girlfriend duties. Peering into his classroom she easily located her handsome boyfriend, a chiseled chin laid on his hand, gazing out the window as if lost in a daydream. Her heart skipped a beat. Her eyes eagerly devoured him, the hours they'd spent apart ached, she longed to be back in his arms kissing him senseless turning him into a blushing mess. She was so wrapped up in his beauty, she almost missed another set of longing eyes. Nam Ju-Ri, she didn't know her well, had declined her hand in friendship after seeing how quickly she could go from “nice” to malicious. She'd always preferred the wolf rather than a wolf in sheep's clothing. Her eyes narrowed as she watched the oblivious girl gaze at her boyfriend, the flames of jealousy searing in her blood. Who was she to look at him? Wasn't it clear that he was off limits? Her taste was probably still in his mouth from this morning, she'd happily recreate the moment to remind the two faced bitch to back off. Finally, after a few minutes she stalked off to the bathroom, a bad taste lingering on her tongue.

They were working together on a group project. Her smile had fallen as he explained to her that he would need to leave early to meet Ju-Ri and Jae-Su at the Subway's to begin working on their group project. She planned on asking him to stay at school with her, she needed to work on her new short story for the school paper. It was the perfect excuse to get some much needed alone time with him, this new information threw a proverbial wrench in her plans. Only his sweet sad eyes stopped her from throwing a tantrum. He didn't look happy at the prospect of being away from her either. Using the situation as motivation, she penned a tale about a slow-witted girl who learned the dangers of touching that which wasn't yours, the grass wasn't always greener on the other side, sometimes it was best to appreciate what you had, least you lose everything. Or at least, a few fingers in the process.  She never claimed to be subtle. After adding the finishing touches, her story was complete. Not her best work but adequate, a true Ko Mun-Yeong classic, dark but revealing. Are you still at Subways? As she collects her belongings, she awaits his reply to her message, humming and setting a new course of action as she exits the school, the sun warm on her skin, restoring her energy. Yes, we're still here.

They are the scene of academic innocence with textbooks sprawled across the dining table, and notes and writing utensils precariously dangling. Gang-Tae is seated next to Jae-Su, Ju-Ri directly across, currently leaning over to point something out to his watchful eye. He rubs his jaw, nodding in agreement before jotting down notes on a stray piece of paper. With a firm hand she pushes the door open, a melodic chime announcing her arrival, all eyes glance to see who has entered including the only eyes that matter to her. He instantly stands up, wide smile on his face as he waves her over, missing the grimace that covers Ju-Ri's face. As soon as she's close enough to touch, he does. Drawing her into a warm hug, that she happily returns, breathing in his fresh scent. "I didn't know you were coming. Are you hungry?" He motions to the cash register, she shakes her head in decline, nodding at Jae-Su and Jae-Su, alone. Ju-Ri makes a point of checking her phone and looking as occupied as possible, she's happy to act like they’re strangers. In most ways, that's exactly what they are. "Do you want to sit?" There are no additional seats she notes, the establishment packed as it usually is after school's dismissal. "No, you sit." He looks at her in apparent confusion, about to argue before she forces him back into the seat, before taking her seat. 

In his lap. His gasp breezes against her ear as she faces Ju-Ri, placid smile on her face at the girl's evident irritation, she makes herself comfortable turning to look at Gang-Tae, who shyly meets her eyes, his hands cautiously holding her hips for support. "Hey, you." She whispers only loud enough for him to hear, his coffee-brown eyes soften in response, "Hi, I missed you." Her lips find his in a sweet kiss, as he brushes her hair behind her hair. A quiet moan escapes her lips at the gentle touch, his eyes are dark when she draws away. A million miles away. She would never tire of her affect on him and how unashamed he was about showing her. "Alright that's enough from you two." Jae-Su's exasperated voice interrupts, she squashes the urge to glare at him, Gang-Tae had asked her to be nicer to him claiming he was terrified of her. She really didn't see the issue with that but she was trying for Gang-Tae's sake. He soothed out her rougher edges. Gang-Tae struggles to focus with her in his lap, absentmindedly stroking her hair instead of answering a question that was posed to him. When he brought his sandwich to his mouth, she leaned over taking a bite too, accidentally biting his finger, soft apology on her lip. She slowly licked mayo residue from the corner of her lip, his eyes raptly watching its journey as she swallowed, "Mmmm it tastes good." He briskly repositions her in his lap, shifting her into his leg, away from her place in the center. Ju-Ri finally speaks after the display through clenched teeth, "I need to go, my mom is expecting me." Gang-Tae and Jae-Su bade her goodbye and safe travels, Mun-Yeong merely looks at her while stroking her finger possessively across Gang-Tae's massive shoulders, mouthing one word, mine. He looked scrumptious in his basketball uniform, arms tensing and flexing as he dribbled the ball up and down the court. She'd happily agreed to stay for his practice today, unwilling to pass out the chance the see a slightly damp Gang-Tae. She hasn't yet spoken to him about his...admirer. It felt ridiculous to waste their time together talking about anything other than them, when they weren't devouring each other. So she didn't expect to run into the very person who was infiltrating her thoughts. The two faced bitch, alone, walking down the stairs text books in her arm. Impulsively she calls out, "You know he's mine right? Stay away from my boyfriend." The girl's head snaps up in shock, before her face settles into vexation. Good at least she's being real. She would loathe to see the fake calm smile Ju-Ri typically sends her way. "He's not your property. You don't own him." With a tight smirk she stalks over, climbing the stairs until they're level, still knowing she'll always be above her in every way imaginable. "That's where you're wrong, he is mine. My boyfriend, so why don't you get someone who actually wants you and stop drooling over what you can't have? You act so nice but you're just a two-faced bitch." She bites out the last word, stepping into Ju-Ri's face, blood singing at the opportunity to put her in her place. The sting of the harsh slap against her cheek, whiplashes her head to the side, momentarily she's impressed, surprised that the girl actually had the gall to strike her, whatever I do now is technically self defense now, she thinks. Before viciously grabbing the other girl by her thin hair, yanking at the tender follicles. "Are you crazy?" She screams loudly, lost in her rage. "Are you on something? How dare you slap me?!" Emphasizing her question with a particularly hard pull of her hair. They tussle on the staircase, Ju-Ri frantically trying to pry her hands from her hair as she pushes her head into the wall. Both unaware that the commotion from their fight has garnered the attention of the basketball team, the boys cheering them on, cacophonous yells filling the previously quiet hallway. "Oh shit is that Mun-Yeong?" "Someone get Gang-Tae!" She slams Ju-Ri's head into the wall, satisfaction overcoming her at the pleasing smack it makes. Soon Ju-Ri's screams drown out the boys and then she feels her body being lifted, completely swept off her feet. Only his familiar scent stops her from lashing out at the arms around her midsection, prying her away from Ju-Ri.  Her hands remain in their tight clutch of the girl's hair but then his voice cuts through the fog in her mind, like a lighthouse. Guiding her back to the light. "Mun-Yeong, let go of her." His voice is too quiet to be a command but there is no inflection indicating a question either. He pulls her bodily away from Ju-Ri, his arms like steel around her abdomen, making her feel like a wayward child. With a final cry, she releases her hold, only to roughly shove her, aptly watching as she tumbles down the three measly stairs. Ju-Ri screams as if she had been murdered, dramatically wet eyes staring behind her, looking at him. She grabs at her once more, regaining her attention. She is elated at the look of fear in Ju-Ri's eyes as she looks up from her spot on the ground. She growls at her, bearing her teeth as she is carried away. "This was your only warning!" As soon as she is freed from the prison of Gang-Tae's arms, she begins pacing like an trapped animal, hot puffs of breath rasping out of her lungs. She feels hot with anger, which morphs into frustration before coiling into ugly shame. She dreads the look of disappointment she will see on her boyfriend's face, unlike Daniel, who was no friend of hers, she had just attacked someone he considered a friend. She knew that she had let the flames of anger consume her, this was the real reason she didn't have true friends. Most people couldn't handle her... intensity. Which was putting it nicely. She didn't like to share. Years of loneliness with parents that couldn't be bothered with her existence, had formed an ugly desire in her to latch on to the people she opened up to. She would squeeze so tightly until they ultimately burst, realizing her darkness and leaving before they too were consumed. She'd never cared enough to worry about losing anyone, all she had was Seung-Jae and Sang-In and they knew first-hand about her uglier traits, and loved her despite her flaws. But Gang-Tae had never seen this side of her, had never given her reason to show it. He looked at her like she was the sun and moon and all the stars, it would be crushing to see that love twist into fear. "Are you okay?" His voice. It was gentle. He didn't sound scared. Or disappointed. Or repulsed. Just worried, his hand on her cheek further shocking her until she brought her head up to meet his eyes. In them she saw concern, but not much else, none of the emotions others usually exhibited when they saw the real Ko Mun-Yeong. "Mun-Yeong, are you okay?" He repeated his question, cupping her cheek in his hand now. A cool balm on her hot skin. She forced out a reply, "Yes. She only slapped me, I hit her a lot more." His eyes perused her body, looking for more injuries and he let out a sigh of relief when he found none. "Aren't you.. aren't you upset that I hit your friend?" She cursed out the final word, unable to control the venom in her tone. "No, I'm mostly... confused? I didn't know you didn't like her." His brows knitted together in bewilderment, "Why were you fighting? What happened?" The memory of overhearing Ju-Ri talk to Byeol about Gang-Tae played in her mind, all of the earlier anger resurging in her blood. "Should you really be going after him? Isn't he with Mun-Yeong now?" "I liked him first! She stole him from me, I just want him to know how I feel too. Let him know he has options." After that the rest was inevitable, she couldn't hold herself back. Didn't want to in all honesty, the slap was merely the straw that broke the camel's back. "She likes you! I heard her talking about you, she said she wanted you to know you had options. I simply reminded her that there are no options, you're mine." Flabbergasted, if you searched the word in the dictionary Gang-Tae's face would be the image. He sat down in an chair of the empty classroom he had dragged her into, looking dazed. His mouth opened. Then closed. Opening once more, before closing again. Until he finally found his words, "You're jealous....of me? Of other girls liking me?" She took high offense at the skepticism in his voice and passionately retorted, "Yes, of course I am! Those...those ants want you and are trying to steal you away from me!" He grabbed her arms, stopping her mid pace, drawing her into his lap. Calming her with a single touch. His raspy baritone hypnotized her, "Breathe with me, please." She took a deep breath, matching his even breaths until she felt her anger dissipate, fizzing into nothing. "You have nothing to be jealous about. I don't want Ju-Ri or anyone else, I want you. Only you. I am yours, for as long as you'll have me." His hands rubbed up and down her sides in a soothing motion, massaging away any negative emotion left in her body. "You don't mind.... You're not upset I called you mine?" She peered at him with huge bewildered eyes. "Why would I be? As long as you're mine too." He looked at her hopefully, she didn't deign that inquiry with a verbal response. Instead taking the opportunity to utilize her spot in his lap, grabbing his face and kissing the query off his lips. Possessively shoving her tongue into his mouth, hands falling to his neck to pull him deeper into their embrace. She bit his lip then swiped the pain away, lapping at his hot wet mouth. Humming at his taste, thirsty for more. He gasped, pulling away to inhale deep breaths, his eyes were hazy with arousal. She attached herself to his neck, sucking his sweaty skin into her mouth, aroused by his moan of pleasure. "Wait, should we do this...here?" He gestured at the classroom, "What if someone comes looking for us?" She perked up at the idea, delighting in the thought of that two-faced bitch finding them and seeing first-hand that Gang-Tae belonged to her. She sucked harder instead of answering, running a hand through his hair, pulling his head to the side to give her better access. He melted in her arms, boneless at her ministrations. She looked proudly at the purple-red bruise that formed on his skin, stark on his porcelain pale skin, it would be seen a mile away. "Beautiful." She sighed caressing the marked skin, awed and proud of her work. Gang-Tae blushed looking at her like she was a predator and he couldn't wait to be eaten. Realization washed over her like a tidal wave. He hadn’t acted at all like she had imagined.  "You like this." It wasn't a question, the hard line prodding into her ass told her everything she needed to know. "I never thought you'd get jealous of me. Seeing you like this is...." "Sexy?" She finished his sentence, he held her heated stare before nodding in agreement. She laughed, boisterous laughter, he was utterly perfect for her. She wanted to wreck him. Swiveling her hip into a seductive roll, she watched the pleasure wash over his face, his pretty red cheeks and open mouth calling out to the beast that had been unleashed. She swallowed his moans, groaning as he licked into her mouth, their tongues wrestling for control, she ground into his hard erection, playing dirty to get the upper hand. "Cheater." He rasped out, eyes narrowed at her. She grinded harder, wrapping her arms around his neck, riding him through their clothes. The head of his hard cock rubbing on her moist center, she'd moved her uniform skirt out of the way, desperate to feel him. They hadn't done much sans clothes yet and she was hungry for it. Whispering into his red hot ears, "Can I take off my panties?" His hands tightened painfully on her hips, as he threw his head back in a long suffering groan. She pressed on, "Please I'm so wet, I know you're not ready for.... that. But I just want to feel you." He was shaking in her arms, little hitching breaths and she waited for his response, mouthing at the large hickey on his neck. Finally he nodded. Eyes too bright, they almost seemed to be glowing. She stood up, leaving his lap, eyeing the rigid tent protruding from his uniform pants, covetously watching, eager for the day it would also be hers. Raking her skirt up under his watchful eyes, she took a hold of her panties, he subconsciously licked his lips in anticipation, as she slid the moist material down her thighs, bending over to slip them off. He watched her soaked panties hanging from the tips of her fingers utterly captivated, before she tossed them to the side carelessly. With a coy smile, she slid back onto his lap, moaning at the sensation of his clothed cock pressing on her bare opening, rocking harder on him, as spots of color exploded behind her eyelids. It felt incredible. He was burning hot and so stiff beneath her, all her thoughts minimized down to this moment. She wanted to come. Desperately. Could feel the persistent itch under her skin. When she opened her eyes Gang-Tae's were fixed on the space between her thighs, he looked ravenous as she used him for her pleasure, muscles coiled tight as he sat painfully still as she bounced on his lap. "You can touch me. I want you to, don't be nervous." She insisted, seeing his hands brutal grip on the sides of the chair. His nails were digging into the plastic, leaving indentations. He hesitated before bringing his fingers to the lips of her pussy, briefly sliding into the opening before retracting this fingers. She groaned in frustration, it felt so good she needed more, why was he stopping? Fucking tease.  Voice laced with veneration, he said, "You're so.... it's so wet." She glared at him before chastising him, he was like this every time they were naked, surprised that she was aroused by him, "You made me like that. Don't be a tease now." He glowered at her statement, she had called him that various times before.  His fingers slowly crept to her wet opening, a barely there touch that had her shouting, and she couldn't wait anymore she was too turned on, using his thighs for support she leaned up before bearing down on his fingers, easily slipping down their entire lengths, feeling a breath punched out of her. Gang-Tae was still frozen as she began to ride his fingers, pulling him into her tight hole, wet sounds filling the room, her juices coating his fingers. Then she felt him moving inside her, driving his fingers up to meet with her downward thrusts, his thumb momentarily pressed against her clitoris and she bit her tongue at the euphoria. She was dangerously close. His dick twitched underneath her and she slowed her sensuous movement in a slow rock, peering into his pleasure dilated eyes, "Do you want to feel me?" She watched the war on his face, control and hunger battling, "I don't...I don't want our first time to be in a classroom. You deserve more." She softened at his precious words, if only he knew that any first time would be perfect as long as it was with him. The location was insignificant. "There are...other ways to feel me." At his blank stare she continued, "Do you trust me?" Instantly he nodded, and she smiled, before reaching down to catch his zipper and slowly lowered it. He wheezed, sounding short of breath but didn't stop her. She pulled his erect dick from the slit in his boxer, it stood red and impressive in her hands, perfect in size and shape, thick and long. She hummed in approval, giggling at Gang-Tae's embarrassed face. With a dick like this, he had nothing to be embarrassed about, she doubted hearing that would help his blush though.  He closed his eyes at the feel of her hands on his dick for the first time. It surely wouldn't be her last. She would make sure of that.  Then with her eyes boring into his, she slid over his cock, rubbing her wetness over the hard ridge, simultaneously they moaned at the sensation. His engorged head caught on her opening but it never went in, instead sliding through her sopping wet folds, rubbing on her swollen clit.

Soon, she was the one being devoured as he inhaled her lips with a deep sloppy kiss, his spit running down her chin, as she vigorously rode him, letting him plunder her mouth. Without prompting, his hands slithered under her shirt, groping her breasts. Roughly, moving her bra out of the way, squeezing them the way he knew she liked. His fingers twisting her rigid nipples until they were deliciously sore.

"Gang-Tae!" She screamed his name, her body overloaded from pleasure. He met her thrust for thrust, their pace vigorous, a race to the end. She pulled away from his lips, taking his face in her hands feeling him stiffen under her, she forced his head up until their eyes met, with a final punishing thrust she was falling off the edge, shouting her release. She squeezed her eyes shut, riding the waves of pleasure. He twitched beneath her, bruising grip on her breasts as his cum shot out of his cock and landed in thick streams on the floor.  She took huge gulps of air as her body cooled down, coming down from her extreme high, thin layer of sweat settling on her skin. Lifting her head from where it had fallen on his shoulder, she grinned at his goofy smile, he looked wrung out, it was a good look on him. After regaining the feeling in her legs she hopped off his lap, retrieving her panties from the floor, as she was placing her legs into them, she paused before looking at him, before walking up to him as he adjusted his own pants, flaccid cock now hidden away sadly enough. With a salacious grin, she stuffed her panties into his pocket, "You can keep those." He stuttered, too tongue tired to respond but didn’t stop her or give them back.  They stumbled downstairs to wide eyed stares that shifted into knowing glances from Gang-Tae's teammates who were just finishing up with practice. All eyes immediately latching on to the giant hickey on his neck. She'd never seen him turn quite that red.

The next day, Jae-Su's loud voice assaulted her ears as he looked at his best friend in horror, "What happened to your neck?!" Before looking at her with an accusatory glare, "What did you do to him you....you vampire!" She smiled serenely as Ju-Ri snuck past them, avoiding her eye contact, a small scrape on her knee from the fall. Gang-Tae flushed at the words but didn't cover the mark, instead taking her books before kissing her on the forehead. He was hers, happily and she wouldn't take that for granted and had no problem reminding others who might forget. 

[fuckingdeadbutroyal]

Jasonette July- Soulmate AU- Part 4

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

!Season 3 spoilers coming right ahead!

A tiny sigh escaped Maris lips as she felt her body filling up with energy. “He ate. I think I’ll be fine in a few”, she told her partner, who was currently swimming next to her. She hadn’t dared to detransform for a day now, knowing that doing so would mean her finally collapsing. The duo hasn’t been wasting time, though. Theyvwere trying to come up with a new plan. Ladybug told him all about her being the new Guardian of the Miraculous, about Chat Blanc and Bunnix. Pointed out how if Bunnix hasn’t turned up yet, that meant that they could handle the situation. Explained why she wouldn’t dare share her identity with him, even though she wanted to, because of how she couldn’t afford to risk him turning into Chat Blanc again. Ladybug told him about her soulmate. Now he finally understood how she had such incredible stamina and... had a hard time agreeing to the two of them staying as nothing more than friends.

Adrien did not disregard their friendship as something unimportant. Knowing that he was Ladybugs best friend and feeling that she was just as well his... best friend, his partner, the person he could rely on the most. It was amazing, unique and so very very important to him.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t hurt, though. He loved her and she liked him, they both knew that. It just was never enough. Not for Adrien.Now was not the time to grieve his broken heart, though. He was used to suppressing his emotions due to Hawkmoths terror. He could keep it together for a little longer.

Now that all their cards were laid out on the table, they were ready to come up with a plan.

“Look. I can’t cast my cure while the akuma is still out there. Creation doesn’t work with destruction working actively against it.”, Ladybug told Chat who, though currently detransformed as Adrien, winced. The word “Destruction” has already intergrated itself as a trigger, setting off a bad reaction in the teenagers mind. Plagg did not like that in the slightest. “Kid, you’ve gotta get it together. Yes I am the god of D-Trigger, but I’m also the God of Chaos and let me tell ya, I can’t sense a hint of chaos on that dusty dirtbag out there.” Adrien smirked, a drained, sarcastical smile forming on his lips. “Are you trying to tell me I have another power you’ve just forgotten to mention?” 

The heroes knew they still weren’t off age and therefore didn’t have access to their full potential. That didn’t stop hope from lighting up in the backs of the duos hearts. They already couldn’t use the other Miraculous power, since all of the previous Miraculous holders were eliminated on day three, due to Hawkmoth already knowing their identities (thanks to what he had done on heroes day two years ago) and him finding the civilian heroes’ hiding places before Ladybug and Chat Noir could even locate their presence in Paris. Searching for new holders was clearly not a good idea. They couldn’t risk throwing someone inexperienced and terrified into a battle they didn’t know how to win yet.

But if Chat could use a new power? 

That would be the element of surprise they needed! Adriens 18th Birthday was just around the corner, there's a chance it could work!

"Nah, he's not in the right condition to try, too young and way too exhausted"

Bye bye little flame of hope.

"But if you were to get some ACTUAL sleep and eat some fucking food? You would totally make it."

"Wait what?", Marinettes eyes were the size of asteroids. They had a chance! She just had to get him to one of those bunkers so he could get some sleep and then..."Then we'll have to go without it. I'm not leaving you alone milady."

Oh, yeah, there was that tiny detail she had forgotten. The two of them were too protective of each other to leave their partner to their own devices and Ladybug entering any building was not an option.The girl let out a frustrated huff, "Cha-" "I understand what you mean, Ladybug.”, Adriens voice was solid and left no room for argument. Batman would have been proud. “But this is not up to debate. I'm not leaving you alone, not while you are in this state nor during any of our battles. It has never ended well in the past and it sure as hell won't end well now."

Plagg' and Maris' annoyed sighs were absolutly identical, which would've made Adrien laugh, if it weren't for their current situation. He knew he was right, though, and he knew she did as well.

Mentally, Marinette was feeling better. Less on edge, more focused. It was surprising to all of them. Of course she still was incredibly tired, even more fatigued than yesterday, which was understandable since she has not slept for about a week now and spent most of her time swinging around Paris, thinking her head off and crying her eyes out while trying to save as many civilians as possible. Nontheless, even though her body was about to shut down, her brain was working at a thousand miles per hour. She knew it was thanks to her soulmate, who was currently fueling the both of them by ingesting loads of energizing substances and getting closer.

Marinette was now certain her soulmate was a man. He was in Paris, in danger and aware of her dependance on him.

Who could he be? How did he get here? Why now? Why hasn’t he ever tried to find her before? 

She didn’t judge him, of couse. Did not expect him to put everything aside just to find her. Who if not Ladybug could understand what it meant to have duties holding you back, chaining you to the ones who claim to love you? (While they only do so because they need her, Marinette believed. Paris didn’t actually love her, no-one cared about her wellbeing unless it was important for their safety. No-one would jump into fire for Ladybug if they wouldn't trust her to sacrifice her sanity to resurrect them. No-one has ever jumped to rescue Marinette in her civilian identity, after all.)

Marinette was spiralling. Memories and repressed emotions suddenly jumping to the surface, reminding her of all the ways she had offered her very self to help anyone in need and receiving nothing in return. She had people who were nice to her, she had friends and family and people who loved her for who she was. Sadly, Mari only just now realised that love wasn't enough. It has never been enough. She would spend many nights awake, working on gifts and projects and helping her friends out or even just simply entertaining them over the phone. What for? Why?!

"Marinette is a saint", her parents would say, "She can do anything." Mari knew that wasn't true. She wasn't almighty. She couldn't even say "No".

That’s where the spiral came to an end. All those thoughts were standing at a cliffs edge, staring down into the abyss right beneath their feet. A tiny step forward, a minimal lean in and she would fall. Where would she go? What would she encounter? Was it okay to do this? Was it okay to change?

For once, Mari felt sure of herself. In a place she would've never thought she'd be, swimming under a god damn Ladybug themed boat in the middle of the Saine. Her mind was clear, certain. She opened her eyes and her mind jumped.

"Well fuck no I can't always do everything.", Mari heard Ladybugs voice, only partly recognizing it as her own.

The black cat duo next to her winced, having been discussing the topic of whether or not Adrien could leave Ladybug alone for a few hours. Not at all have they been expecting the sudden change in the star of their argument.

"Bug...?"

She looked at him, face straight but full of rage. Eyes sharp but full of thought. She didn't need to look around to figure out how to use her lucky charm, instead she had a horrible, unstable and unfinished plan she was absolutely going to follow.

"I have an idea."

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

Hawkmoth was nervous. The akuma was stronger than he had expected and definitely much harder to control. He hasn't yet decided whether or not it was a good idea to akumatize a homeless man, especially considering his educational history in architecture and geography.

It was like the Akuma was thinking, not just feeling like all his previous ones did. It could either mean victory or the literal end of the world. Gabriel was hoping for the first option, of course.

Another reason for his nervous state of mind, were the unexpected members of the justice league, who for whatever reason just now decided to enter the battlefield. He hasn't been expecting them anymore, once the first year of his reign had passed without a droplet of attention from Gotham and the rest of the world. If they've never cared before, why now? Did they suddenly have more free time or did they only just realise they were literal vigilantes and could therefore ignore any and all international borders?

Or was Hawkmoth finally on the right track, finally about to win so they sent the last of their forces to come and save his enemies? A grin split his masked face in a horrifying grimace. His secret weapon was still leashed, still waiting for his order. Agreste Senior had the upper hand, this was his time to shine, his time to win.

Finally.

----------

Much clearer air seeped into Jason's lungs. He even went as far as removing his mask, just so he could properly breathe in something that wasn't poisoned with a literal mist of dust and the stench of death. His heart, no, their hearts were beating faster. Jason stood right by the river. He felt the cold water numbing her legs and reaching for her throat. He felt her dizzy fatigue and her clenching stomach. He knew her thoughts were just as clear as his. It felt as though their minds were finally complete, as if their brains could finally grasp the whole situation. Their body's were so close, they could finally function the way they were meant to. Together, helping one another.

"Red Robin. I found her. The boats are meant for shelter, the akuma can't come out in the open and it’s afraid of water. The heroes must be somewhere underneath those fat kanus."

"Copy."

"I'm going in."

"Hood wai-"

Jason was already underwater, hearing but not listening to Tim's voice.

Red Hood was about to find his Red Lady and no one could stop him.

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

Marinette had just finished explaining her plan to Adrien, who was now transformed and ready to move, when she felt it. "He's here.", was all she could muster. Chat didn't have to think twice to guess what she had meant and subconsciously started to brace himself. He couldn't help but think that now really wasn't the time for her soulmate to interrupt. They were at war, which meant that her uninvited lover was putting himself and Ladybug at risk. Risking her safety meant risking Paris safety which meant that over all, Adrien felt like they were being royaly fucked by the Kwami of Timing.

The Duo felt the water underneath their feet moving. (The rivers flow has been stopped right at the beginning of the akuma battle. It was a safety precaution the mayor has ordered after a particularly unpleasant spread of akuma poison. Now, whenever the Akuma-alert went of, the city shut down, sealed shut and closed up. Not a single soul could enter and not a single twig could leave.

The heroes had formerly agreed to that being a great idea, now that they were short on everything, though... let's say they have learned that isolation wasn't always the best solution to their problems.)

Ladybug felt him before she heard him, a weird sense of Deja-vu overcoming her.

He came up behind her. Her spine felt like it was buzzing with electricity.

"Pixie?"

Jason didn't know why he called her that, but it sure as hell felt right.

Another shiver went down their spines. Marinettes reaction caused by her soulmates voice, while Jason's body just seemed to mimic hers even more intensely now.

She turned around.

Their eyes met.

Their scars felt like they've lit up in flames.

Two sleeping bodies were sinking towards the floor of the river Saine.

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

Hey ho, friendioh

I am so tired, my eyes are so done, je suis juste come Jasonette in my story.

You comments though? I LOVE YOU. Thank each and every one of you lovely message-leavers, my heart is now full of love and excitement and it’s your fault!

I can’t stress this enough, your feedback is shooing my depressay far far away.

Now back to the content. I am not finished yet, there’s more coming and the end is still uncertain, even to me. I have my plotline and my scenes, but this story has kind of started writing itself (which in my opinion is what makes writing so great). So I guess we’re all looking into a future just as uncertain as Dukes vision :)

My taglist has grown! Message me if you are interested in joining that cute group you are about to read the names of, I’ll be happy to add you ^^

Tag List \o/

@maribat-is-lifeblood @lokilex @amayakans @readingismyoxygen 

Thanks for reading ^^

[vikingpoteto]

middle children must unionize

read on ao3 ______________________

my contributior for @batfam-big-bang

Summary: Jason realizes no one is taking care of Tim - not even Tim himself. He decides to do something about it.

Notes: I can't stress enough how grateful I am for joining this event. First of all, stan the mods. Stan my beta reader team, @timmydrakewings, @stormleviosa and @sun-lit-roses. Stan my artist team @houser-of-stories, @reese-haleth and @anicomicqueen To all of these amazing talented people that, for whatever reason chose to help me with this story, I can't stress enough how grateful I am. ________________________

Jason doesn’t keep in touch with the Bats after Bruce’s gone.

Batwoman only trusts him as far as she can throw him. Dick is not easy to avoid, but Jason keeps their contact to a minimum nonetheless. Ninja girl doesn’t speak with him. Replacement… Well. Jason does have a weird professional relationship with the kid. As professional as you can get with someone you tried to kill. Barbara will probably never forgive him for making Dick cry so many times. Brat girl will probably never forgive him for trying to kill Replacement. The other one, whatever his name is, is low-key/high-key terrified of Jason. As for the gremlin... Well, he’s like 10? 11? Jason doesn’t hang out with children, not even assassin ones.

So yeah. Not on friendly terms with anyone in the Wayne family.

However he is an instigator at heart and, while whatever they’re doing in the Batcave is none of his business, he’ll be damned if he doesn’t finish one of his rare visits by stirring things up a bit.

Dick usually makes sure he doesn’t do anything too outrageous, but a distraction comes in the form of Gremlin, who shows up demanding to know why Dick is late for their training session or whatever. The brat sends Jason a scathing look but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge him. Dick only smiles patiently and waves Jason goodbye, leaving Replacement unsupervised. Before heading out, Jason approaches Replacement, who’s sitting by the batcomputer.

“So,” he starts. Jason notices when the kid flinches a little. Your regular guy wouldn’t, but Jason was once a bat too. “How does it feel to be replaced, Replacement?”

Replacement’s shoulders go stiff for half a second.

When he turns to face Jason, however, his expression is empty.

“Predictable,” he says.

Jason quirks an eyebrow up. “Meaning?”

“I was only a Robin because I was, how can I put this, a coworker?” Replacement turns his eyes back to the computer and starts typing. “It was a no-strings-attached sort of deal. Bound to end at some point.”

That’s… new.

“You’re legally adopted into the Wayne family,” Jason hears himself reminding him.

“Yeah, ain’t that a pickle,” Replacement laughs. “Can you guess who forced Bruce to do that? My money was on Dick, but now I think it was probably Babs or Alfred.”

Jason stares, unsure what to make of that. Before he decides, the kid stands up.

"I have always been a patch job, so being dismissed is to be expected. I'm just overstaying my welcome at this point."

“You can get dismissed? I thought this was an until-your-untimely-death sort of gig.”

That was not how Jason expected this conversation to go, like, at all. He had never seen Replacement looking so… worn out? Lifeless?

“I don’t know, man,” Tim frowns as though he made himself confused. “God, I’m sleepy. See you around, I guess.”

And Jason watches him leave the cave with his shoulders hunched and an empty stare. Dick and Gremlin are so preoccupied with their sparring session that they don’t seem to notice. Jason sticks around for a few more seconds, stunned, before he realizes what he’s doing. He goes home.

Jason can’t stop thinking about what the kid said.

It’s not that he didn’t think something of the sorts, especially when he was angriest at Bruce. He had thought about how Batman trained his children to be soldiers and, like soldiers, they could be easily replaced. After all, what was one more problem child joining their broken family? What’s another deadly brat being thrown at some creeps wearing literal clown costumes?

He did think of them as Bruce’s kids though.

Not that Batman had any expertise in healthy parenting techniques, but Jason didn’t have any healthy son experiences to compare so it didn’t matter much. They were Batkids for the better and mostly for the worse, and if something happened to them, well, the crusade must go on.

He never thought of Robin as someone that could be sent home out of the blue, like your average GC Pig. A disgrace to the family? Sure. See, kids, we don’t talk about cousin Jason. He got himself killed and came back all crooked. That’s what happens if you kill murderers or forget to brush your teeth. Still, the idea of being dismissed for no reason never occurred to Jason. It was absurd, because, as far as Jason knew, his replacement was the perfect little soldier. Why would he walk away?

Dick fought with Bruce. Jason… well. You know. Brat girl had to move cities or whatever? Or she died, but got better? Jason doesn’t really know anything about the chick. Either way, he knows she became Batgirl soon after. Tim, however, had nothing stopping him from staying masked. Why would Replacement talk about being Robin as if it was a summer job?

Does that mean that the wimpy kid Jason has been bullying was really that cold and detached?

He thinks about it until his head hurts and he starts remembering times with Bruce and Dick and Alfred and suddenly he doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

It’s a good thing Jason is good at compartmentalizing, because that’s what he does. He pushes thoughts of Batman and Robin to the depths of his mind and forgets about it.

He doesn’t find out until weeks later.

He’s not visiting the manor because he wants to. It’s just that there is this stupid encrypted information he needs for a case and he isn’t exactly tech savvy. He doesn’t think Barbara would do him a solid - she’s still ignoring him for… whatever. He doesn’t even know. Probably something about hurting Dick’s pwecious feewings or eating the last cookie Alfred made. Either way, Jason first tries contacting Replacement directly. Only when the kid doesn’t pick up he forces himself to go to the cult headquarters.

He needs that data, dammit, and whoever called programming logic, was out of their damn mind. If true, execute commands 1, 2 and IV, it said. If what was true? Jason read and read and still didn’t get what it was referring to. And why would someone name the commands regular numbers then just… throw a fucking roman number? Just to spice things up? Whoever wrote that damn code should get a bullet in the foot.

“Jay!” Dick grins at him, although he looks unamused by the fact that Jason is coming in through a window on the second floor. “You do remember that we have a door, don’t you?”

“I like to keep ‘em guessing,” Jason says. “Which room is the kid’s? I have a job for him.”

Dick tilts his head to the side, confused. “Damian is at school?”

And then there’s that. A lot to unpack. First, Jason is deeply offended that Dick thinks he would ever go there after Gremlin, the child that likes to criticize Jason's  skills despite the fact that a) Jason was trained by Damian's father and then b)Jason was trained by Damian's mother. Second, Damian Wayne. Going to Gotham Academy. Does he wear the uniform? Does he have homework or does he threaten the teachers with a sword until they quit? Did anyone explain to him the concept of playing tag before he murders a bunch of 9 year olds? Jason has so many questions. If only he had time.

“I said the kid . The human one, not the imp.”

“Oh.” Dick seems taken aback. “Oh, he... Jason, Tim isn’t in Gotham. You didn’t know?”

Jason groans. “Are you kidding me? You annoyed him into leaving the planet with his alien friends again, didn’t you?”

“No, he… I actually don’t know where he is now.”

Jason blinks in surprise. So Dick didn’t pick Bruce’s habit of microchipping his kids?

“What do you mean you don’t know? How do you lose a whole Robin? The uniform is basically a traffic cone.”

Dick sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Jason had seen Bruce do just that so many times he forgets for a moment whatever stupid joke he was about to make. When did his older brother become the dad?

“He left a while ago. He barely spent any time here at the manor after I gave Robin to Damian, so…”

Jason freezes. After I gave Robin to Damian, he says. Being dismissed is to be expected, the kid said weeks ago.

“Dick. What the fuck did you do?”

Dick looks surprised at the raw anger in Jason’s voice, even though he shouldn’t fucking be. Jason remembers the distant voice on that day. He did think that was oddly cold for Replacement, even if he was a calculating nerd. Except that wasn’t him being cold. That was him lying to himself.

Jason would know. He spent most of his childhood telling himself he didn’t need a loving father. A good part of his teenage years telling everyone that would hear that he didn’t care at all that Bruce kept holding him to the standards of the perfect son that went away. It’s a lot easier to pretend you didn’t care because it makes it hurt less when things are taken away. Jason was a fucking pro at that technique, so much he wonders how the hell he didn’t notice earlier.

“I did what I had to do,” Dick says, defensively. The way he does when he’s second guessing himself, but still in denial about it. “Tim’s a hero of his own right and he’s capable enough that…”

“That you fucking fired him?” Jason barks.

“Damian needs Robin, Jason! He’s just so lost and being Robin gave him a sense of purpose, allowed him to actually be a child.”

“No shit Gremlin is a child! What about Replacement? He’s, what, 15?”

“He’s 17, how do you not know your own brother’s age?”

“Whatever! He’s just a teen and you basically just told him to fuck off.”

Dick sighs. “Look, I tried to help Tim. Tim’s friends tried to help Tim. But he’s a mature person and he wanted some time for himself.”

Ain’t that a familiar song. A good dose of leave me the fuck alone while still wearing a goddamn bat on his chest and making sure to make enough noise to draw attention. He doesn’t like how close it hits to home, how Dick, who’s supposed to be the best of them, ends up being just as shit as recognizing emotions as any other Bat. Jason laughs without any humor.

Incensed, Dick’s jaw sets in challenge as he adds: “I trust Tim and I respected his choice to leave on his own mission, because he knows what’s right for him.”

“Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night,” Jason says. “You’re right. Give the demon what he needs. Replacement is a grown ass adult because you respect him so much .”

“Jason, I didn’t say that…”

“He was never a kid here, Dick, even I know that. You all keep throwing shit at him, messes for him to fix ‘cause it’s fine, it’s little Timmy, he’s so fucking capable, he can take it. Have you ever considered that he was always an adult because you all are the fucking children?”

I have always been a patch job sounds awfully similar to I’m here because he got lonely after you left.

But apparently Dick is done exercising his brotherly patience and Jason hit a nerve.

“What do you know about him? You never bothered to talk to him, to spend time with him. You don’t know shit about Tim.”

Jason scoffs. Dick’s face grows unevenly red.

“You don’t, Jason! You were busy trying to kill him. Remember that bonding experience? Must have been fun for him. Having the hero he grew up admiring trying to murder him?”

Jason throws the first punch. Dick easily dodges, the motherfucker, the damn superior Robin.

Screw it, Jason thinks as they start yet another classic Robin Brawl that would only end when Ninja Girl mysteriously dropped from the ceiling and kicked both of their asses.

Jason doesn’t hear from the cave for a while. His phone gets a weird virus, so he guesses Oracle heard he pushed Dick down the stairs. He just tosses the whole thing away and decides that screw his stupid case with the weird code, screw detective work. The biggest detectives aren’t around anymore. He'll just call Kory and convince her to help torch the place up and hopefully the new Batman and Robin will have to deal with the aftermath.

The next time Jason hears from his brothers, it’s a frantic call from Dick that makes Jason’s blood turn into ice: freaking Ra’s Al Ghul is in Gotham doing his whole Head of the Demon thing. He grabs his bike and he’s still on the comms with Dick as he heads to the manor because Alfred is in there.

“What did Gremlin do?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Dick answers and Jason can barely hear him over the wind. He’s probably swinging around Gotham as he speaks. “It was Tim. Tim’s back and Ra’s is after him and everyone he cares about.”

Fuck. This is the kid Dick trusted to go out alone on a self-discovery journey or whatever. Jason wonders what the hell he had been up to get that much unwanted attention.

In the end, everything works out, kind of. No one on their side dies, but Tim does get thrown out of a window. Of a very, very, veeery tall building. Jason still thinks he got off too easy. As smart as he is, Tim shouldn’t have survived a run in with Ra’s.

Jason is curious enough about it to stay in the cave after the fact. He and Dick sit near Tim’s bed while Leslie works her magic. Dick doesn’t take his eyes from his little brother’s pale face for even a second.

“We almost lost him,” he whispers at some point. “Again, we… I almost lost him.”

“But you didn’t,” Jason says, voice flat. “You saved him.”

Dick bites his lower lip hard enough to break the skin. Jason punches his shoulder to snap him out of it.

“Jay, about last time…”

“Ugh, don’t apologize, you freak. Why can’t you just bottle up your emotions and pretend nothing happened like the rest of this stupid family?”

That makes Dick give him a weak smile. If not for the bottling up part, for the part in which Jason admits they’re a family.

“You were… well, not right. I still think Tim shouldn’t be treated like a sidekick anymore,” Dick continues, despite Jason’s disgusted noises. “But he shouldn’t be left alone either. No one in this family should.”

Jason pretends to be gagging long enough that Dick gives up on trying to be a sensible adult and returns to silently watching over his brother.

After that, it’s a matter of stalling and by stalling he ends up watching the other Bats. He finds from Alfred that Ninja Girl isn’t looming over Tim’s bed because she’s in Hong Kong. Brat girl comes and goes the whole night and Jason doesn’t understand why she can’t simply sit down and wait as a pile of nerves like Dick is doing. At some point, she reads the morning newspaper and starts making so much fuss the one Jason doesn’t know the name - Dave? Dylan? - takes her upstairs to calm her down. Damian is nowhere to be found

In the end, Jason manages to be there when Replacement wakes up. Everyone is busy celebrating, too elated that Replacement is fine, so much they forget Jason is still lurking around. No one sees when his face goes pale and he feels like he’s going to puke.

“How did you know I was going to catch you?” Dick asks.

Tim gives him a tired smile. “You’re my brother, Dick. I knew you’d save me.”

Fuck.

Fuck. It’s like looking into a goddamn mirror, except Tim is so much better at this than Jason ever was. So much that he might even be fooling himself.

But he can’t fool Jason. Dick wants to believe in the best of them, he wants them all to be sane and safe and happy - as much as a Bat can be, at least - but Jason is more of a realist. He knows no one can plan that far ahead. He knows Tim went to a meeting with the Head of the Demon fully aware that he would most likely be carried out in a coffin. Considering Dick’s misstep from a couple months earlier and the fact that Tim had already assigned him and Damian a task, Batman was the last person Tim was expecting to show up.

Of course Dick would save him, any of them. Despite his issues with Bruce, Jason had his hero worship towards his brother restored pretty fast. Dick, the golden boy, the perfect son, loved him no matter what and Jason loved him back. Knew now that Dick had love enough to go around for all of them - all of them. But did Tim know that?

Tim finished his little mission, wrapped it all pretty with a bow, making sure no one kicked the bucket. Except for himself. Timothy Drake-Wayne was the contingency plan for Batman’s contingency plan, but he didn’t care enough to make a plan for himself.  

Bruce is gone. Dick is painfully blind. The Drakes are dead. Alfred has his hands full. The Behemoths or the Little League, or whatever the hell the super kids call themselves now, were just that. Kids. Jason curses to himself, because, if no one else will watch out for Replacement, it’s none of his fucking business.

It’s not.

However…

Jason doesn’t know how to put his not-plan in action. He can’t exactly walk up to Tim and say hey, I think we’re not so different, you and I, so I’m worried for your safety. I know I tried to kill you, but that like... two years ago, get over it. Let’s be friends.

Before he figures it out, he hears that Bruce is back. The real Bruce.

He doesn’t know how to feel about it, so he decides to put some distance between him and the family one more time as he takes some weeks to process. He goes out of town to hang out with his friends. He is done with Gotham bullshit for a while.

Unfortunately, Jason finds himself facing his worst enemy: the damn encrypted data.

He hates that dealers now do their thing through the internet. Who the fuck buys marijuana online? Where is the poetry in that? The class of being friends with the sketchy guy that lives around the corner and hangs out with you while you smoke? If they’re gonna sell oregano online to rich white kids, fine, but they’re selling heavy stuff to people that live in his territory and there is a thing bigger than just drugs, if Jason’s hunch is right. He could confirm it by cracking the numbers he stole from their stupidly unguarded computers.

Except the encryption is too complicated for him to access the files.

Well, isn’t that the perfect excuse to take a visit to the kid’s apartment.

Because that is the situation right now. The kid is emancipated, controlling Wayne Enterprises and living by his damn self. There is so much to unpack that Jason wants to throw away the whole suitcase.

He should probably do just that, or at least that’s what he thinks when he climbs to Tim’s balcony (in his head, he hears Dick’s voice going what do you hate about front doors, man?) and he is immediately pushed to the ground.

He is wearing his helmet, sure, but it doesn’t make it less painful when someone fucking stomps on his head, forcing his face against the floor.

“Fuck,” is all Jason thinks of saying.

He then kicks his assailant in the shin and is satisfied when they tumble backwards. Unfortunately for him, they - she - doesn’t fall over the railing, she just stays away long enough to give him time to stand.

A bald girl wearing a distasteful crop top glares daggers at him. She is already back on her fighting stance - one that looks way too familiar for Jason’s taste - ready to strike. And strike she does.

Her movements are similar to Jason’s - fast, strong, unpredictable, unfair - but she has the advantage of being more slender and having more freedom of movement in the small space. All Jason can do is defend himself and not get tossed over the edge. Who the fuck is this girl? Why is she attacking him? Doesn’t she know he is the freaking Red Hood? He just wanted the damn-

“What on Earth are you guys doing on my balcony?”

The girl freezes. Jason does not. He lands a punch straight on her nose and she falls backwards, her mouth opening in pain even if no sound comes out.

“What the hell, Hood!”

Tim rushes to the girl’s side.

“What the hell Hood?” Jason parrots, indignant. “I just got here and she attacked me!”

Tim frowns and turns to the girl. “Is that true?”

Instead of answering, the girl holds her bloody nose and glares at him. She uses her free hand to show Tim four fingers. Tim sighs.

“I know it’s the fourth time you’ve had your nose broken,” Tim gives her a wry smile. “But the three other times you had it coming. And maybe even this time. Why did you attack Red Hood?”

She makes the gesture of someone walking with two fingers then points at Tim’s balcony door. Jason doesn’t know a lot of ASL, but those don’t seem to be the same signs Cassandra uses.

“She attacked me because she thought I was trying to break in?” He asks. “You have a bodyguard now?”

Tim stands and holds out his hand to the girl. She begrudgingly takes it and lets him pull her to her feet. “Why don’t we all go inside before someone notices the Red Hood on my balcony?”

Jason grumbles in annoyance but does make his way in. Tim is right behind him and Jason can’t help but think he’s acting as a shield in case the girl wants revenge for her nose.

“Come here, Pru, I’ll get something cold for your nose.”

Jason takes a look around. As they cross the living room, he notices it looks like a shiny rich person apartment you’d see in a magazine. Jason wasn’t sure what he expected of Tim’s new crib, and he knows the kid just moved in, but the fact that the place looks like a hospital’s reception makes him feel some sort of way.

Fortunately, the kitchen is a bit better. Not much, but it’s something. There are papers spread across the table, dirty glasses in the sink, a mug full of black steaming tea, Tim’s laptop open on top of a pile of books, and there are pictures on the fridge. Jason remembers vaguely Dick mentioning that one of the kids had a thing for photography and another liked drawing. He has to assume Tim is the photographer as he takes a good look at them: one of Brat girl’s grinning face with a big heart magnet, one of Tim and Cassandra sharing the same reading chair, one of Bruce in one of those fancy sweaters he used to wear at home, one of Dick and Cassandra doing handstands, one of a red head kid, behind him Tim, a muscular girl and an even more muscular guy. Jason doesn’t need to be a detective to figure those, even without the uniforms, are Impulse, Wonder Girl and Superboy.

“So,” Tim starts. He hands the girl a pack of frozen peas and shrugs at her dirty look. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Without ceremony, the girl takes a seat by the table and tries to steal a glance at Tim’s laptop. He casually closes it and smiles at her. She scoffs.

“First, you explain the bodyguard,” Jason says, gesturing to the girl.

“Right. Where are my manners? Pru, this is Red Hood. Hood, this is Prudence.”

He doesn’t turn to her so she can read his lips or use gestures to speak, so Jason figures she isn’t deaf, only mute. Maybe it’s something like Cassandra?

“Really? Prudence? That’s ironic. ”

She shows Jason her middle finger. Definitely not deaf then.

Unlike Prudence, Jason doesn’t make himself at home. When he crosses his arms and doesn’t say anything for a minute more, Tim reads his silence correctly and adds, “We’re working together for a while and there are a lot of people that want us dead, so you’ll have to forgive her. She saw a suspicious guy trying to get into my place and she assumed the worst.”

Jason quirks an eyebrow. Tim can’t see his expression behind the helmet, but he sighs nonetheless.

“Come on. She couldn’t know I sometimes work with the Red Hood too.”

I sometimes work with. Ouch. Jason supposes that’s fair, though. Tim hasn’t exactly been informed of Jason’s newfound empathy or his protective streak.

“How did you know where I live, by the way?” Tim asks.

“Alfred told me you moved,” Jason says. “I got your address from Cassandra.”

Tim’s brows disappear under his messy fringe. “Really?”

Jason nods. “Took a lot of convincing before she believed I didn’t want to kill you in your sleep.”

At that, Tim snorts. He’s still grinning when he asks, “What did you want it for then?”

“Tech support,” he says as he fishes a small flash drive from his pocket. “I was hoping you could crack some files for me.”

Tim takes it and nods. “I’ll check it out. I’ll send the results to you as soon as I have them. Anything else?”

Again… ouch. Apparently imprudent girl is welcome to kick back and hang out, but Jason is just a fellow associate that came to hand in an assignment and promptly piss off.

Then Jason realizes that that was exactly what their relationship was like before Tim went around the world to fight Ra’s al Ghul. Damn.

Well. It’s not like he can take off his helmet and stick around when there is a stranger in there, especially when Tim carefully introduced him as the Red Hood instead of good ol’ Jason Todd. He just wanted to check on the kid and he did. No need to get all clingy. That’s Dick’s thing, not his.

It isn’t until much later that Jason realizes how pointless the visit was. He wanted to see if the kid was okay. He suspected he wasn’t, but it wasn’t like he had any idea of what to do about it.

Lucky for him, Tim looked a lot better than last time. Less dead eyed, more like he has some sort of purpose. The fact that Dick is included in his little photo collection must mean they made amends. Whether it was because Jason’s whooping Dick’s ass or in spite of it he’ll never know. Based on what he knows about Tim, the kid might have just worked everything out by himself and forgiven Dick on his own terms.

Despite his decision to take care of Tim from then on, Jason is definitely not great at it. He doesn't think he lost the rights to admonish Dick for not talking to his brother. The fact is Jason isn't great with words. He wants to help Tim through actions.

Still the question remains: how?

(And Tim emails him the files he needed 8 hours later and Jason worries that the kid didn’t sleep, which… great. This is just great.)

Less than two nights later, someone gets into Jason's frequency. He's about to head out for patrol when a creaking sound inside his helmet precedes a familiar voice slightly twisted by static.

"Red Hood, this is Red Robin. Do you copy?"

Right. He goes by Red Robin now.

"What you want, rep… kid?" Jason inwardly winces at his misstep.

There is a moment of confused silence before Tim mercifully decides not to ask what that was. "I'm pursuing a lead in your territory."

Jason hums. "What's it? I'll handle it."

"No!" Tim says too fast. "I mean… it's my case. I just thought you could take the night off? Please?"

This is supposed to be the smart Robin, right? He does know that Jason isn’t a complete moron, right?

“What’s in it for me?” Jason asks.

If this was Damian, he’d get a colorful death threat. If this was Dick, a winded speech on how brothers are supposed to have each other’s backs and he's just asking for a tiny favor, Jason, don’t make me make my ex-girlfriend hack into your phone and block Netflix again. Tim, however, knows that everything has a price and has an answer ready.

“You owe me for those files I decoded for you.”

Straight to the point. No bullshit. Jason is starting to really like this kid.

“Fair enough. You go follow your lead and I won’t murder you for being in my territory.”

“Always a pleasure doing business with you, Hood.”

Jason didn’t say anything about taking the night off, though.

Jason knows that, if he was working alone, Tim wouldn’t ask for permission. He would let himself in and out of Jason's territory assuming Jason wouldn’t even notice - he’d done it before as Robin, and Jason did notice but pretended not to. He can’t track Red Robin as easily, but the fact that he doesn’t want Red Hood around means there is something or someone he can’t control tagging along… and who’s the one person even Tim Drake can never control?

“Brat girl,” Jason mutters to himself, a cocky grin spreading on his face. One of his informants just confirmed he saw Batgirl driving whatever the fuck that is that capsule vehicle into an empty building just south of Jason’s place.

Oracle is probably out of town again, otherwise she wouldn’t allow her precious not-daughter to be messing around with Tim in Jason’s territory. But then, if most of the rumors are correct, even Barbara can’t quite control the new Batgirl.

He wonders what the duo are up to as he lets himself into the abandoned place through a hole in the ceiling. Red Hood walks on the rafters in the dark until he can hear familiar voices. He stops on his tracks when he notices that Red Robin and Batgirl aren’t alone. Wonder Girl and Impulse stick out like bright red sore thumbs against Gotham’s darkness.

Red Hood hears enough to know they’re planning on saving someone - one of Impulse’s friends? - from a local group connected to Black Mask. Their plan is solid, but it’s hardly a task herculean enough to warrant the presence of a speedster and an amazon. Red Robin makes it sound like it’s absolutely necessary nonetheless, assigning each of them a role that fits their powers and going over every little detail. It’s the first time Hood sees the kid in a position of leadership and he thinks it suits him. He seems extremely at ease.

Actually… that’s not quite it. He’s not as wary of the world as he is when he’s with the Batfamily. Not Batman’s perfect mini-detective, not Nightwing’s model little brother, not WE CEO. He’s still very much a hero, a Robin, but it’s possible to see he’s seventeen under the cowl. Even his posture changes, his shoulders relax and he allows himself to be… God, himself. That must be the first time Jason sees Tim completely in his element, no tension, no (metaphorical) masks.

Real Red Robin stays close to his friends. Very close. Hell, Impulse is almost sitting on his lap, his arm firmly wrapped around Red Robin’s waist as he points at some sort of map his wrist pad is showing. Batgirl is clinging to his other side, her chin resting on his shoulder using the excuse to see better what he’s showing. Hadn’t those two broken up?

Then Red Robin says something so softly not even Hood picks up. The other three teens get tense. Impulse nods and disappears in a gust of wind as his friends wait in silence.

Half a second later, something hits Hood’s back at a very alarming speed because of course Red Robin noticed someone listening and sent his speedster friend to get him. He curses while he falls, barely managing to roll fast enough to avoid serious knee damage when he lands.

“Jason!” Red Robin whines not unlike an embarrassed child crying out mom, not in front of my friends!

“Maybe check who’s spying on you before sending a child bullet careening into their back, will ya?” Jason complains.

Wonder Girl frowns. “Is that…”

“The Red Hood,” Batgirl confirms in a flat voice. “Yup.”

“Isn’t he a criminal?” Impulse asks, genuine curiosity in his voice.

A facepalming Red Robin groans. “He doesn’t do crime anymore.” Under Batgirl’s skeptical glare, he corrects, “He doesn’t do bad crimes anymore. What are you doing here, Hood? You said you were taking the night off!”

“I said I wouldn’t shoot you for being in my territory,” Hood corrects. “But I didn’t say anything about your super friends, because I didn’t think you’d be breaking so many rules in so little time. Really? Bringing metas to Gotham?”

Red Robin simply shrugs. “What Batman can’t see doesn’t hurt him.”

Batgirl snickers and Hood grins a little under his helmet.

“Little Timmy,” he gasps, resting his hand on his chest in mock shock.

“Shut up, why are you here?”

“What, you can’t tell me there is a case and expect me not to follow up.”

The other three kids look from Red Hood to Red Robin. It’s obvious that whatever Tim’s verdict is, they’re going to accept it. Even Stephanie. And she knows Jason (sort of).

“Fine,” Red Robin groans. “But no shooting anyone.”

“No promises.”

Wonder Girl and Impulse are obviously wondering whether they’re joking or not. Knowing they’re completely serious, Batgirl makes a face and pokes Red Robin’s cheek. He frowns at her and the two of them seem to have a conversation consisting of weird mouths and head shakes for a moment. Jason would know. He and Dick used to do that all the time. Finally, whatever face Red Robin is making convinces her and she lets out a defeated sigh.

“Well then, ladies,” Batgirl deadpans, “let’s get this bread.”

Despite Dick’s best efforts, Jason never quite fit in with the Titans. With Tim and Stephanie, however, he can work.

Breaking into one of Black Mask’s hideouts is a piece of cake, if not outright fun. He has to hand it to Stephanie. She is not as cunning as Barbara or as deadly as Cassandra, but the girl can blow up a marijuana deposit like no one else.

Sure, the smoke makes them at least 30% high—all of them except Impulse, whose metabolism won’t let him get intoxicated, to which… Just R.I.P. you funky little man, Jason really feels for him.

Even with the little diversion, there were still plenty of crooks to fight. Wonder Girl takes care of most of them on her own— amazons, man —and soon enough Impulse comes running, carrying a dark-skinned boy wearing power-dampening cuffs who keeps yelling at them in Spanish. At that, Red Robin announces they’re retreating.

Tim looks a lot more comfortable with his peers than he is with the Bats. Part of Jason wonders if he could’ve been like that. If he would have ended up differently if he had actually stayed with the Titans and made friends like Tim had. He tells himself not to go down that path, because he is who he is, he certainly doesn’t make friends in that teen sitcom way and you can’t change the past.

He is genuinely glad that Tim has those friends, though. He’s glad that he can feel that way despite the hint of jealousy.

As they leave a ruined hideout behind, Wonder Girl and Impulse are drowning Red Robin in hugs and cheering so loud one would forget they’re still in Gotham. Their friend laughs with them even with the stress of being so rambunctiously rescued. Batgirl slaps her arm around Hood’s shoulder and admires the Titans being loud as if congratulating themselves on the job done.

If all of them— all of them—are still smiling themselves silly as they leave, it’s only 50% because of the marijuana.

Jason quickly learns that Tim doesn’t like owing people. When Jason asked Tim to crack some encrypted documents, he just needed the damn files. He didn’t expect the kid to show up to tear down the place when Jason decided he had enough reason to dismantle the operation.

“What, you can’t tell me there is a case and expect me not to follow up,” Red Robin quips as he nudges a goon with his foot. The man groans, but doesn’t get up. Seemingly satisfied, Red Robin crouches down and starts cuffing the man to another by his side.

“Remind me to never ask for your help again,” Red Hood says.

Red Robin glowers. “I saved your ass from getting stabbed about three times.”

“I shot the kneecaps of four guys trying to murder you, so don’t expect me to thank you.”

They hear sirens. Red Robin stands. “Well, guess our job here is done.”

Hood nods. It’s been a while since he fought side by side with a fellow Bat, just him and another Robin and... it was nice. Roy and Kori are great partners and all, but they don’t have the same training a Robin does. They don’t get the specific maneuvers and the subtle secret signs. The fact that it had been so fun fighting side by side with Red Robin makes Jason feel like his not-plan of taking care of the kid was finally going somewhere.

Then Red Robin stretches his arm to grapple his way out of there and gasps.

“Red?”

“Uh…” He is now pressing his hand to his side.

“Is… is that blood?”

“Uhhhh…”

“Did you get stabbed and didn’t notice, you freaking idiot?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he groans, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes over the cowl. “Why me?”

Red Hood sighs. “Relax, kid, it doesn’t look that deep.”

“I’m gonna have to call Batman,” Red Robin whines. “A’s gonna kill me.”

“Over a tiny stab wound? Don’t be a pussy, I’m sure you can stitch that yourself.”

“The stitches aren’t the problem, it’s just the medicine…” Red Robin says, making vague hand gestures. “I have no spleen.”

And then there’s that.

“I’m sorry. You what?”

Red Robin pulls a guilty face visible even under the cowl. Jason wouldn’t blame Alfred for killing him. He has no spleen and he just… decided it was a good idea to bring a staff to a gunfight at one of the grimiest places of Gotham.

Tim Drake-Wayne, everyone, smartest Robin to date.

Jason, however, decides not to kill Tim for his stupidity. He recognizes that particular frown. It’s the I-messed-up-and-I-don’t-want-dad-to-find-out face.

The GCPD sirens are getting closer.

“I’ve got a big collection of antibiotics back at one of my safehouses,” he mentions casually. “I could patch you up so A doesn’t have to.”

Tim’s wide eyes are evident. Jason wonders if this is him being able to read the kid too well or if Tim straight up sucks at hiding his emotions. It’s probably a bit of both.  

“You know. As thanks for helping me.”

“I thought you wouldn’t thank me.”

“Don’t push it, kid.”

By now, they can see the red and blue police lights.

“Lead the way.”

He rolls his eyes and drags the kid to his bike. He really hopes the pigs didn’t see them, because it’s bad enough that a hero showed up to Red Hood’s bust, he doesn’t need any cops thinking that he kidnapped Red Robin or any shit like that.

“Are we going to the one behind the new theater or the one around crime alley?” Tim casually asks.

Jason freezes halfway through mounting his bike. “How the fuck do you know about those?”

“I know the location of all of your safehouses,” Tim admits.

“Batman knows about my safehouses?”

Tim quirks an eyebrow. “Last time I checked, I’m not Batman.”

...oh.

That’s… nice. Kind of. A confirmation that he can trust the kid to have his back.

“Smug nerd,” Jason mumbles.

Tim only chuckles in response. They set off to Jason’s place.

The rest of the night is peaceful. At least for a Bat’s standards. Jason helps Tim disinfect his wound and stitch it closed while Tim raids Jason’s medicine stash until he finds the ones he needs. Jason promises to hook him up with his supplier so he doesn’t have to rely so much on the cave. By the time they’re done, Tim’s lips are permanently curled upwards.

When he starts shuffling awkwardly as if looking for a way to say goodbye, Jason nonchalantly announces where he can find clean towels and clothes, as if this is a thing they do everyday. Tim seems baffled, but thankfully he doesn’t call Jason’s bullshit and obediently heads to the bathroom. By the time he’s done, Jason is fixing a meal for the two of them and some stupid movie is on TV—never the news, god, Jason hates watching the news.

Like a skittish stray, Tim is unsure of what to do with himself at first, but he catches the cue fast enough. He sits on the couch all stiff and restless until something on the screen grabs his attention.

“You like Wendy the Werewolf Stalker?” Tim asks, eyes wide.

“Do I like fucking what?”

Jason just needed the background noise to avoid freaking out about  how weird he’s being right now. Apparently, that was the wrong answer. Tim launches a rant on how amazing Wendy is and half of it goes over Jason’s head. He just gets that apparently Tim and Superboy both have a crush on this werewolf hunting chick and they used to spend hours watching her instead of doing actual work at Titans Tower.

He also manages to actually eat the food Jason made, which is a win in Jason’s book.

It’s a nice night, overall.

It becomes, not a habit, but a thing. Tim sometimes shows up to one of Jason’s safehouses needing a stitch job or medicine. Jason doesn’t know how he nails which one Jason is at currently or if he just goes to every single one still bleeding until he finds Jason. Or even if he just lets himself in and takes care of his wounds without any help. If so, Jason wouldn’t blame him. He’d choose his crappy hideouts over Tim’s soulless apartment any day.

On the third time it happens, Tim isn’t hurt at all. He just wants to bitch about Vicki Vale stalking him and his supposed ex-fiancée that he's actually trying to date. Jason feeds him real food, as usual, and listens to what he has to say, as unusual. They end up on the couch watching A Nightmare on Elm Street, which, oddly enough, has Tim getting overly enthusiastic about going to bed because he’s curious about the magic behind Freddy Krueger. Jason tells him to let him know if any dream demons show up when he leaves Tim dozing off on the couch.

Tim starts texting Jason. At first, it’s all very professional. Messages like 1 of the stupid crooks in your territory almost killed robin yesterday do smth abt it followed by I don’t care that he’s a demon in a kevlar vest Hood you didn’t have to deal with nightwing crying afterwards!!! Then they slowly shift into something more casual on the lines of is dis u? An d attached a picture of Elizabeth Bennet wearing the red Power Ranger helmet which… What sort of context led to that meme being created?

Jason pretends not to care, but he preens with pride when Tim laughs at his dark jokes. Stupid gallows humor that would have made Bruce call an expensive therapist and Dick squirm in discomfort have the kid snorting coffee out of his nose.

It’s like they’re friends.

Part of him sometimes toys with the idea of them being normal kids —or as normal as you can be in Gotham—and he realizes that he would’ve made friends with Tim so fucking fast. Dick is the golden child and all of them would end up worshiping him and respecting him as their older brother, of course. Tim would be added to their family and Jason, not-murdered, regular problem-child Jason, would resist him at first, but he would soon see that he wasn't just an annoying nerd. He was a fun, annoying nerd. They would gang up on Dick, as younger brothers ought to do, and Jason would protect Tim from bullies and Tim would use his good son credit to get Jason out of trouble with Bruce.

This, however, may be as good as it gets for people with their fucked up upbringing. Jason already knew Tim wasn’t your regular spoiled rich boy and they bond over having shit childhoods even if they don’t talk about it.

All in all it feels nice to be looked up to. To have the kid come to him when he’s in trouble. To have someone looking at him with a shine in his eyes like the one Jason has when he looks at Dick. It makes Jason feel like he’s worth something. He sees Tim get comfortable with him after weeks of acting like a stray cat and he knows the kid feels the same. It’s a new feeling for both of them.

It’s like they’re really brothers.

Being part of the Red Robin fan club, Jason finds out, gives him good credit with the Bats.

Bruce and Dick are always going to be concerned about Jason’s slightly loose moral compass. Gremlin is always going to hate him because he’s a Gremlin. Barbara tolerates him at best.

Stephanie, however, shows up unannounced to one of Red Hood’s busts and laughs it off when he complains about Batgirl ruining his rep. She then invites Jason to watch a movie with her since they finished early. He thinks that’d be very weird, so he refuses. Unbothered, she says an airy “Maybe next time” before leaving.

He thinks a shadow once told him to come by the manor more often, almost giving him a heart attack. He thought Cassandra was in Hong Kong, for fuck’s sake; when did she come back?

One time he texts Tim for tech support and no one but the Signal shows up at Jason’s doorstep with a codebreaker and a list of instructions from Red Robin. Duke doesn’t look as wary of Jason as he once was and the two quickly fall into friendly banter, complaining about Tim’s nerdiness.

Jason knows if he asked Steph about it, he would never hear the end of it. Cass isn’t the easiest person to hold a conversation with. He guesses Duke is decent enough not to dwell on it, so he asks,

“Why are y’all suddenly okay with me?”

Duke quirks an eyebrow at him. Fortunately, he’s smart enough that Jason doesn’t need to explain further. “Tim trusts you,” he says simply. “Tim is the holder of the one brain cell of this family, so long we follow his cues, we’re golden.”

Jason doesn’t know what to say to that.

“Why, you don’t want us around?”

He mumbles something about it not being a big deal. Duke shrugs it off and changes the subject. Jason knows he’s doing it for his sake, because Duke might be the kindest person in their whole messed up family. Jason feels bad for refusing to learn his name for so long.

So it seems like two-thirds of the Batgirls and Signal were always less worried about Jason’s past than they were about his rivalry with Robin III.

And, fine, Jason does get a little jealous of that but he’s mature-ish enough to take what he can get. Plus Stephanie is funny as shit and it’s always fun to annoy Barbara by getting Batgirl involved in his fights, especially when Red Robin is around to back him up.

Everything is sort of nice now.

Sometimes, however, Jason wakes up in a cold sweat with the taste of copper in his mouth and a nightmare gunshot still ringing in his ears. He tried to kill Tim. He could’ve killed his little brother. He’s thankful for the times the nightmares come when Tim is sleeping over, because he can walk to the living room and check on the kid. Remind himself that Tim is alive and breathing under the old blankets and that he’s forgiven Jason. When he isn’t around, Jason is absolutely not above calling him in the middle of the night, making up a stupid case he needs Tim’s help with. For all his smarts, Tim never seems to realize Jason’s true motives.

Now that he thinks about it, he notices that Tim is on good terms with a lot of people that tried to kill him. Jason. Damian. That Prudence girl. He doesn’t find out the details, but he does hear something about Stephanie fucking him up and she’s now his best friend. Jason is more than a little concerned about that forgiving side of his.

Red Hood hates a lot of things. If he were to make a list, it’d take days to write it all down. He knows for sure that on the top of that list would be clowns. There is nothing he hates more than clowns.

Scarecrows are a close second, though.

Definitely close to a tie as he watches Red Robin stumble. “I think…” he mutters. “I think my rebreather is broken.”

“ Shit.”

Red Hood has to think fast. Fear gas is every-fucking-where and he lost sight of Scarecrow three canon-fodder crooks ago. He doesn’t have an extra rebreather, because he’s wearing his helmet and that does the job. He’s used to fighting alone. Not that having another rebreather would do them any good now that Red Robin has already breathed the nasty toxins.

In the end, Hood decides to take the defeat for what it is: a defeat. He throws a smoke bomb on the ground and grabs Red Robin by the waist, ignoring the startled squeak the boy lets out. They need to get out before Scarecrow’s goons realize what they’re doing.

“Stay with me,” Red Hood hisses. “Whatever you’re hearing or seeing, it’s not real.”

They’re five minutes away from his nearest safehouse. It’d be faster to take one of their bikes, but he can’t risk it in case Tim starts hallucinating halfway there. They can make it there swinging, he can keep his brother out of danger.

“I’m fine,” Red Robin says. The way he’s limp in Hood’s hold, says otherwise.  “We’re going home. We’re safe.”

“We’re going home. Close your eyes. Focus on my voice.”

He does it.

“It’s just us now,” Hood reassures him. “We’re on the way to a safehouse where no one can find us and you can rest until the toxin is out of your system. Safe, easy.”

“Steph is fine, Bart is fine, Cassie is fine,” he chants, “Cass is fine, Alfred is fine, Dick is fine, Tam is fine, Pru is fine.”

He keeps listing people that are fine, because of course his fears are all about his friends being hurt. Surprisingly, Hood recognizes all of them. He’s heard Tim talking about all of them repeatedly and he knows their names and personalities, even if he doesn’t have all the faces to match. He isn’t surprised that his friends come first then their family.

“That’s right, kiddo,” Jason encourages. “Who else?”

“Dad..” Tim’s eyes shoot open. “Dad’s gonna kill me. Dad, Dad will know I’m Robin, he’s- He’s gonna take Robin away from me, I can’t- This is the first time I’m being useful.”

Fuck.

“Your dad isn’t here. And you’re not Robin, kid, you’re Red Robin,” Jason reminds him.

“That’s… that’s right. I failed him. I failed Dick, so…”

Double fuck.

“That’s bullshit,” Jason says, but it’s hard to keep the conversation going while he’s carrying Tim’s weight.

They’re two minutes away from safety before Tim starts struggling to get away from Jason. He doesn’t say anything else, which may be more concerning, he just grunts with the effort and squirms. Jason really hopes no one was paying attention enough to notice what looks like Red Hood kidnapping a terrified Red Robin.

“Shit- Stay put, Red, we’re almost home,” Jason says.

Tim’s breath catches and returns, erratic, and Jason can’t bear to look at his horrified face, he hates to see the utter fear that has his brother’s already pale complexion turn ashen, his lips pressed into a line so tight it has got to hurt. Jason starts listing the names of the people that are supposedly fine and that catches Tim’s attention long enough that Jason can swing straight to the fire escape of the abandoned building where he set his hideout.

He sets Tim on the dusty mattress on the corner in a hurry and tosses his helmet aside. He starts undoing Tim’s safety measures so he can remove his cowl. Unlike Jason, he doesn’t wear a domino mask beneath it and Jason makes a mental note of talking to Tim about that later.

“Almost there, Timbers,” Jason says. He rips off his own domino without caring about the sting, hoping a familiar face will help. “I’m here. Now, where do you keep your fear gas antidote? I know you carry some around.”

Tim unconsciously reaches for a particular capsule on his bandolier. That’s enough of an answer for Jason, who pushes his hand away not as gently as he should and reaches for the small vial inside.

“Jay,” Tim whines. “Jay, you’re okay, right?”

Jason blinks, confused. “Of course I’m okay, Timbers. I’m right here.”

And as he rushes to grab the first aid kit under the sink, Jason starts to freak out. This gas isn’t causing hallucinations as much as it’s making Tim feel paranoid, it seems. What if it’s a new formula? What if the antidote doesn’t work? What if Tim keeps having anxious thought after anxious thought, until his heart gives in and-

“Jay!” Tim calls, desperate. “Jay, we have to get Kon! He’s- He’s in danger.” He starts getting up.

“Nope!” Jason pushes him right back into the mattress. “Kon is fine, he’s invulnerable, remember? He’s probably doing superdouche stuff in Metropolis.”

“He’s not, he’s- He’s gonna kill himself, Jay!” There are tears welling up in his eyes and Jason feels like someone just punched him in the gut. After all the shit they went through, he had never seen Tim cry. “He’s gonna sacrifice himself to save everyone, I can’t lose him, please, I’ll do it instead. He’s- No! Please, don’t do it!”

There we go. There are the hallucinations they all know and hate. Tim stretches out his hand as if he’s reaching for an invisible Superboy, so Jason takes the opportunity to start rolling up his sleeve and cleaning the inside of his elbow. Lucky for him, he always has a sanitized syringe. Now he just needs Tim to stay still.

What if it doesn’t work? What if I make it worse?

“Kon El, no,” Tim gasps. “KON EL! CONNER!”

Jason had never seen Impulse going full speed. But he did meet Barry Allen back when he was Robin and he never forgot the deafening noise of someone breaking the barrier of sound. More familiar is the noise of his freaking wall exploding. Before Jason realizes, he’s being ripped away from his screaming brother. He hacks and struggles, but there isn’t a lot he can do when a kryptonian steel arm presses against his throat, effectively pinning him to the wall.

“Give me one reason not to kill you,” Superboy growls, his eyes already glowing red.

Jason would be impressed with the boy’s ability to look murderous if he wasn’t about to have his head melted. He struggles a little more. Superboy doesn’t even seem to notice. Jason then pathetically raises the syringe in his hand and manages to choke out:

“A-antidote.”

Superboy blinks once. His eyes return to the regular shade of blue. He blinks twice. His expression shows only confusion when he releases Jason, that promptly falls on his knees. Jason coughs, touching his throat as if to make sure it’s still intact. Damn clone.

“What happened to him?” Superboy demands.

Tim isn’t trying to get up anymore, but rather convulsing on the same spot, screaming wordlessly in horror, tears streaming freely down his pale cheeks.

Jason coughs some more before he’s able to say something. “A-ask that first next time, will you? It’s… it’s fear gas.”

“And, what, am I supposed to believe you were helping him?” Superboy snarls.

Jason groans. He doesn’t have time for this. Tim has his eyes firmly shut and every scream, every time his voice breaks, it feels like someone is slashing at Jason’s chest, robbing him of air almost as effectively as Superboy did.

“I was about to do that before you interrupted,” Jason shows him the syringe again. “What do you think?”

Superboy squints at him, unhappy with his response.

“We don’t have time for that,” Jason snarls. “At this point, he’s gonna have a heart attack. I need you to hold him still.”

Superboy bites his lip in hesitation but Tim screams his name again and he winces as if the sound is kryptonite for his ears. Finally, he nods and crouches down by the mattress.

“It’s okay, Rob,” he says. “I’m here now. I’ve got you.”

At that, Tim miraculously relaxes for a second. Jason kneels by his side again and holds the outstretched arm Superboy is keeping still.

“Don’t hurt him,” Jason warns. Judging by the look Superboy gives him, the only reason he’s not getting the laser eye treatment is because he’s the only one around capable of helping Tim.

“No,” Tim whines. “Not Jason…”

Jason freezes. Superboy’s eyes start to glow again.

“Not Jason, not again,” Tim continues, delirious, his expression twisting in pain. “Please, please, don’t, help him, HELP HIM!”

Jason stabs the needle into his pale skin and it’s a miracle that he does it right, because he is shaking. Fuck this. Fuck Scarecrow. It’s wrong, it’s horrible to hear Red Robin begging like that. He hates the way the kid startles with the needle. He’s thankful that Superboy makes sure Tim stays put, because he doesn’t think his trembling hands could do that now.

“It’s okay, Timbers,” Jason hears himself saying, “it’s over now.”

“Please,” Tim sobs again, “I- I’m gonna solve this.”

God. Jason grabs his hand. “You did enough, baby bird. You solved enough already.”

Tim whimpers, but finally starts relaxing. It seems like the antidote is working its magic and the boy falls right asleep.

Superboy refuses to leave, much to Jason’s chagrin. It doesn’t surprise him, though. Conner is Tim’s favorite conversation subject when he’s in a good mood and apparently the clone is ready to just fly to Gotham if he hears Tim’s voice.

“You know, metas aren’t allowed here,” Jason reminds him.

Superboy has been stomping back and forth around Tim’s mattress. He's so angry that Jason is worried he’ll break the floor any minute now, but he stops to give Jason the biggest, meanest glower of the night. He doesn’t look anything like the mental picture Tim painted of him. Even with his ripped skinny jeans and 90’s leather jacket and dumb earrings, Superboy looks absolutely murderous.

“I’m not going anywhere until I see that Tim’s fine,” he says.

Jason sighs.

“Why are we here?” Superboy snaps. “Why didn’t you call Alfred or… or Batman or…”

“Because we don’t do that,” Jason cuts him. “Red Robin is not Batman's sidekick. If we can solve shit without involving Batman, we don’t involve Batman.”

It’s their unspoken rule, Jason knows that since the first time they fought side by side - the first time they had a sleepover - and he brought Tim home to patch him up. They don’t call dad or their older bro if they’re in trouble, because that’ll lead to them being in more trouble. They simply watch out for each other as much as they can.

Superboy isn’t happy with that explanation, but, before he can murder Jason for real, Tim stirs.

Jason and Superboy are kneeling by his side at the same time, which says something, since Jason doesn't have superspeed.

“Timbers?” Jason calls.

“Jay…?” Tim mumbles and his voice is still a little raw from all the screaming. He blinks and his eyes set on his best friend. “Conner? What are you doing here?”

“You called,” Superboy says simply. “I told you all you had to do was call my name.”

“How’s the head?” Jason asks. “You're still smart, right? You can’t afford to lose your brain cells, Timbers, with your ugly face they’re all you have.”

Tim snorts. Then groans. “Fuck off, Jason, don’t make me laugh.”

Jason smiles at him and he doesn’t notice the weird look Superboy is giving them.

“Rob? Do you remember what happened?”

Tim starts to sit up and Superboy is faster than Jason in wrapping an arm around his shoulders to steady him. He helps Tim rest his back against the wall and the grateful look Tim gives him makes Jason frown a bit because he feels there is something there he’s missing.

“Hmmm… We were fighting Scarecrow,” Tim says. “Fear gas, broken rebreather...” He looks at Jason as if seeking for confirmation. When Jason nods, he continues, “Jay got me out of there and the rest is… Wait. Where is Scarecrow? Did he escape?”

“That should be the last of your worries, Timothy, you almost died of fear,” Superboy scolds.

Tim sighs. “Oh, to be a young vigilante in the XXI century… passing away of fright.”

Superboy doesn’t get it, judging by his expression, but Jason does and he laughs out loud. He doesn’t miss the way Tim’s lip quirk up.

“See, baby bird, this is why I wear a helmet and so should you,” Jason says.

“Okay, but have you considered that we’d look stupid if we were all the man in the iron mask?”

Jason raises an eyebrow. “God forbid a whole family fighting criminals in leather fursuits look stupid. We wouldn’t fucking want that.”

Tim laughs, even if his voice is still a little hoarse, and Jason is relieved.

He is so relieved to see his brother fine that he doesn’t pay attention to the fact that Superboy still has his arm around Tim’s shoulders. That Superboy’s eyes get all soft when Tim laughs. That Superboy looks a little hurt when he offers to fly Tim home, but Tim refuses, saying that he’d rather spend the rest of the night here.

“I mean, if that’s fine…?” He glances at Jason, reminding him of those first sleepovers, when he was still unsure whether he’d be welcome or not.

Jason is so done feeling or letting his brother feel like an outsider. “The mattress is big enough for both of us, I don’t see why you’d go back to your own apartment when you can just sleep on a perfectly good mattress on the floor.”

“Hm. Cool then,” Superboy says, but instead of flying out through the giant hole he made on the wall, he shifts his weight from one foot to another awkwardly, clearly stalling.

Both brothers notice it. Neither has a problem interpreting Superboy’s fidgeting. Jason finds it annoying, but Tim gives him a pleading look. Jason sighs.

“You can stay too, big guy, but you gonna have to sleep on the floor.”

Superboy’s face lights up and he definitely doesn’t look like he wanted to melt Jason’s head just a couple of minutes ago. He rambles that it’s all good, he just needs to text Ma Kent to let her know where he is and he’s used to sleeping on the floor of the barn with Krypto and the cows (Jason would find that more upsetting if he didn’t know there is a cow somewhere in the Wayne manor too and Damian sleeps in the cave with it all the time).

In the end, Tim bullies Jason into giving Superboy the thickest blanket he has around. He tries suggesting he should sleep in the blanket and let Jason and Superboy share the mattress, but shuts up mid sentence under their glares.

It’s probably the most awkward sleepover so far, but Tim grins at Jason, grateful, and turns his back to him to be able to talk to Superboy in hushed whispers.

Jason tunes out their conversation and focuses on the fact that he did it. He saved Tim. It doesn’t make up for the times he fucked up in the past, but it sure makes him feel better about the present. He’s also thankful that Tim stayed instead of going to his own place. Hearing your little brother scream in fear for your life isn’t something enjoyable and Jason is sure he would have nightmares about if it wasn’t for the fact that Tim was laying right there in front of him. It’s the sound of his brother’s muffled laughter, mixed with Superboy’s, that lulls him to sleep.

Jason should have noticed then. But he didn’t.

For an intelligent guy, Jason can be really stupid sometimes.

The thing is… Jason is smart. He’s not Tim Drake smart, but he’s still a good detective. He’s also fairly sociable. Or at least he used to be, before he, you know, died and went through all the trauma, etc. He is no Dick Grayson, but he can hold a good conversation, pick up the right social cues, all that crap.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t mess up sometimes.

You see, months go by. Red Hood and Red Robin don’t often go on the field together, after all it’d do a number to both of their reputations, but, when they do, one of them always ends up injured and the other carries him home. It’s like a curse, the universe telling them to stick to their off-patrol partnership. Then a couple of weeks go by and they miss the feeling of fighting side-by-side and there they go again.

Tim keeps showing up at Jason’s place whenever he feels like it and he even hangs around Jason’s visiting friends sometimes. Kori adores Tim from the first time she puts her eyes on him. Roy takes a little longer to warm up, but even he can’t resist the kid. Jason likes it. He likes having his brother around. He likes that they get on like a house on fire.

So much he forgets Tim is a master of hiding shit.

On the week nearing Tim’s 19th birthday, Jason goes to his apartment. He doesn’t realize until he’s halfway there that he hadn’t been to Tim’s place since the night he met Prudence, which is odd, because it’d been basically a year and a half. Still, Tim goes over to Jason’s place all the time. The fact that Jason doesn’t repay the favor has everything to do with the fact that Jason hates Tim’s magazine apartment and nothing else.

Right?

Instead of going for the door, Jason uses his signature move and just swings to the balcony. The door is unlocked - Jason really has to have a talk with Tim about security, they’re in Gotham, for fuck’s sake - and he lets himself in.

To Tim’s credit, the place looks more well lived in now. There are mismatched pillows on the couch, a forgotten mug and a couple of books on the coffee table. Jason recognizes his copy of The Count of Monte Cristo and makes an annoyed sound noticing Tim’s bookmarker is still somewhere in the middle of the book even if it’s been weeks since Jason let him borrow it.

“Tim?” Jason calls. It’s half past nine, a little early for vigilante standards, but…

He hears the sound of someone sputtering and coughing from the kitchen. There he is.

Jason heads there and finds Tim desperately grabbing paper towels to clean coffee he apparently just spilled on his bare chest.

“J-Jason!”

“Jumpy aren’t we?” Jason comments. “What’s up, baby bird?”

It’s clear that Tim had just woken up, judging by his messy hair and the fact that he’s wearing nothing but red sweatpants with Superman’s symbol all over. His mildly terrified expression is weird, though. Tim is usually slow in the morning, but not that easy to startle.

“What are you doing here?” Tim whispers, clearly panicking.

The fact that Jason never visits Tim’s place suddenly comes to his mind. The possibility of him not being welcome hits him and it’s surprisingly painful. He thought they were doing well, that the kid liked him. All this time, was he being arrogant?

As his brain scrambles for something to say, something to think, he notices a sound that he hadn’t registered before: the shower.

Suddenly Tim’s rapidly reddening cheeks and doe wide eyes gain a new meaning. Jason forgets the hurt and a sly smile stretches on his face.

“Oh my god. Oh god, this is priceless. Baby bird, do you have a lady guest from last night?”

Tim makes a weird choking sound and this is too good, Jason is too delighted, look at little Timmy go, already getting it. (Jason would’ve chosen different pants for the morning after, but alas.)

Then a voice calls out: “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

A male voice.

Tim’s face becomes three shades darker, now perfectly matching his pants. Jason’s grin is now frozen on his face, his eyes wide with the realization.

The shower stops.

“Tim?” The voice calls again.

“I’m fine, Kon!” Tim responds and his voice is surprisingly even, considering he looks like he’s having an aneurysm.

That’s a bat for you. Master of hiding their emotions.

Sort of.

Kon, Tim said. Jason realizes that Tim isn’t wearing Superman merch. The sweatpants are Superboy themed.

Jason still remembers Superboy’s protective streak all those months ago and the fact that he woke up to the two of them holding hands - at the time, he thought nothing of it, because it had been a stressful night and he didn’t blame either boy for wanting to make sure the other was okay - and he thinks of all the subsequent times Tim went on and on about Conner and how a couple of weeks ago Tim just stopped mentioning Conner altogether.

God, Jason is the worst detective ever.

Tim pushes Jason out of the kitchen and towards the living room, presumably farther from the bathroom where his boyfriend with super hearing was showering.

“Fuck,” Tim mutters, “ fuckfuckfuck… ”

And he looks and sounds so distraught that Jason loses all the eagerness to tease him, concern quickly replacing any initial surprise he might have been feeling.

“Look,” Tim murmurs, looking anywhere but at Jason’s eyes, “it’s not… we’re just…”

Tim scrambles for words and this is so unlike him - Tim always has a plan, always knows what to say - it takes a moment for Jason to catch up on why he’s a stuttering mess. Jason had been so excited to find out his little brother had a boyfriend he forgot he lived in a world where homophobia was a thing.

“Timbers, chill out.” Jason grabs Tim’s hands from where they’re still resting on his shoulders. “It’s just me.”

Tim dares raise his gaze to meet Jason’s and it hurts a bit to see still a little fear in his blue eyes. Jason gives him an encouraging grin.

“I can’t believe you officially bagged a kryptonian. Way to go, kid.”

His shoulders slouch in utter relief right before he starts blushing again. What a cute kid.

“You keep calling me kid. You’re not that older. And don’t say it like that,” Tim mumbles.

“Like what? Like you’re snogging Superboy?” Tim punches him on the shoulder and Jason laughs. “Now I know why you were in such a hurry to leave the manor, you wanted your own place to bring your boyfriend over…”

“That’s not why I left and who said anything about a boyfriend? Maybe this was just a one night stand.”

Jason gives him a condescending look. “Timbers, I might have not realized you’re gay, but I do know you. You’re a boyfriend kinda guy.”

Tim rolls his eyes and mumbles something about assuming shit. “I’m bi,” he says.

“Cool,” Jason says, a shit-eating grin never leaving his face.

“Fuck,” Tim groans and lets himself fall on the couch. “How do you de-escalate an emotional situation so fast?”

“It’s a Bat thing, and you know how to do it too. All of us are trained to avoid emotions like the plague.”

“I was not prepared to come out when I got up this morning,” Tim admits.

Humming, Jason finally realizes that Tim doesn’t want to skip the emotions for this one. He sighs. The things he does for his brothers.

“It’s not a big deal, though,” he says. “I mean, you’re happy right?”

“I’m never happy.”

“Don’t quote Zuko. You started the real talk. You don’t get to bat your way out of it now.”

A sigh. “I’m happy. Conner is… the best.”

Jason nods. “Then it’s all good. I’m sure all the others would say the same.”

“You can't tell them!” Tim snaps, his eyes suddenly wide with panic again. “Seriously, Jay, you can’t-”

“Calm down, kid,” Jason cuts him off. “When did I make a habit of spilling your secrets to the B-man? It's none of their business.” Tim visibly relaxes and Jason adds: “Actually… Want me to make your house Dick-proof?”

“...what?”

“I mean, not kryptonian dick, you’re clearly into that,” and he ignores it when Tim pops him on the back of the head. “I mean Dick Dick, our brother. I could set up a better security system so you don’t have to worry about one of your siblings walking into something scarring, especially the clingy one.”

“No security system can stop Dick’s clinginess.”

“How do you think I keep him off my place?”

That’s when their little pow wow gets interrupted by more kryptonian skin than Jason ever wanted to see as Conner walks in with nothing but the smallest of the towels wrapped around his waist.

“Babe, what is--” He notices Jason and slips on literally nothing, barely catching himself before falling on his ass. “ Shit- I mean, nothing, I mean, we were just binging Wendy!”

Jason doesn’t say anything, but he does give Tim a look that says it all. He wasn't judging earlier, but he is now. Tim gives him a look that definitely means shut up.

In the end, Jason stays for breakfast.

It’s only mildly awkward, because he and Tim fill the silence talking about the latest case Jason’s working on while Conner makes them pancakes. Judging by the fact that he’s getting the ingredients from a bunch of plastic bags, he must have brought all the food with him. If anything, Jason is grateful that he and Alfred are no longer the only people trying to get Tim to eat actual food.

When Tim turns to Conner for his opinion, leaving Jason to enjoy his coffee, Jason looks around and notices that there are new pictures on the fridge. There are some of those disgustingly cute pictures of Tim and Conner, their cheeks pressed together as they make weird faces for the camera. There is a picture of Conner by himself and, again disgustingly, he is smiling at the camera as though the most precious person in the world is behind it. Both pictures are held by a sun magnet. There is a new candid shot of Cassandra, one of Alfred-Alfred holding cat Alfred, a new one of Dick and even Damian is in there.

And, his heart stops for a second, because now there are pictures of Jason as well.

They’re carefully placed far from each other, but there are three different pictures. There is one of Jason wearing his Lord of the Rings shirt, eating cereal on the couch, a confused expression on his face. He remembers when Tim took that picture, because Tim waited until Jason had his mouth full before calling hey Jay? and snapping the picture right as Jason looked at him, his cheeks like a chipmunk's. The second picture is a candid of him smiling, leaning against the rail of some safehouse balcony. The shot was carefully framed to not show anything distinct of the surroundings, just Jason and Gotham’s sky.

The third one is a selfie. In it, Jason is asleep, his lips parted and face relaxed, his head resting on Tim’s shoulder. Tim has a shit eating grin on his lips as if there is nothing funnier to him than his giant older brother falling asleep on him in the middle of movie night. Tim had the decency of drawing a mustache on Jason’s face to decrease sappiness, but that effect is ruined by the fact that the picture is held by a magnet that was clearly Iron Man but Tim had painted it red to look like Jason’s hood.

Jason had sworn off killing, at least for a little while.

But he would gladly kill again for his little brother.

As he gets ready to leave, he turns to Conner and deadpans, “I don’t have to tell you that I can and I will make kryptonite bullets, do I?”

“Jason!” Tim scolds.

“What? I’m the first of the family to find out. Least I can do is taje care of the shovel talk.”

“Stop threatening my boyfriend.”

Conner blushes profusely and mouths the word boyfriend with marvel and ugh. Just… ugh . Jason is happy that Tim is happy, but he and Conner are apparently that kind of couple and Jason wants to have none of it.

“So, first we kill Damian,” Jason starts.

“No,” Tim says.

“Aw, come on, you didn’t even consider it!”

Cassandra waits until they decide their plan of action (it’s probably going to be Tim’s) and keeps her expression carefully neutral as not to show which one of them she agrees with (Tim).

The thing, Jason realized, is that all of them have favorites in their family and knowing that makes it easier to tear them down. Dick can fuck off with his I love you all equally bullshit, because he clearly always favors Damian. Damian swings between Batdad’s little boy and Nightwing’s murder baby. Tim will easily lose focus whenever Steph is involved. Steph is oddly protective of Duke, for some reason. Cassandra is mostly neutral. She’s everyone’s favorite, including Bruce’s, but she’s also the deadliest of them all so she is no one’s weakness. She does, however, have a soft spot for Tim over any of her brothers. Since Jason became close friends with Tim, he entered Cassandra’s selective protection bubble and he’s now, by all definitions, untouchable.

Or at least that’s how he felt when she chose him for her team right after Tim.

“We kill Dick first,” Tim knocks down the little Nightwing action figure on the carpet. “Cass, you’re the only one who can take him down. Jay and I distract the others while you do the job. Damian will get personally offended by that and will grow reckless.” He knocks down the little imp figurine. “I can take care of him then. Steph will be hiding somewhere ready to strike. She is best in close range combat. Jay, I need you to take her down before she gets too close.” He pushes down the Barbie doll someone dressed as Batgirl, because apparently they couldn’t find blonde Batgirl merch and they were very offended. “Then we win.”

He may sound impressive, but the whole time he’s speaking he has his head resting on Cass’ lap and she is carding her fingers through his hair as a villain would do to their evil pet cat.

“Can’t I murder the demon brat?” Jason complains.

Tim glares at him - again, not very intimidating while he’s basically lying on his sister’s lap.

“You know Steph would wipe the floor with me. You’re the only one I can trust to get her.”

“Unless…” Jason turns around. “Du-”

“No.”

“Come on, I’ll give you ten bucks.”

“Jason, we��re all rich, you can’t buy me.” Duke doesn’t even raise his eyes from his book. “Plus last time I let y’all drag me into this shit, Steph knocked off one of my teeth with Tim’s staff.”

“If you hadn’t killed me, then she wouldn’t have taken revenge,” Tim argues.

“And yet you’re planning to kill Dick counting on the fact that Damian will try to avenge him.”

“Wet blanket,” Cassandra says.

Tim and Jason go into a giggling fit as Duke sputters, too indignant to put his thoughts into words.

In the end, Duke still doesn’t join them.

As they expected, the enemy was listening to their plan - Jason is sure Dick was against it, but Stephanie and Damian are definitely not above spying - nonetheless they still played their parts as expected: Steph and Damian tried protecting Dick first and foremost, but not even the two of them combined could take Cassandra. Not with Jason and Tim backing her up.

Cassandra knocks Dick down and sits on his back. The large yellow paint splash on his chest proves that he’s dead. Rather than being upset, Dick starts doing push ups with his sister there as the rest of his siblings and Steph fight to death.

Unfortunately, Damian wasn’t as angered by Dick’s demise as they expected and is still a good match for Tim. Until Tim gasps and goes Titus, don’t eat that! It was an obvious ploy, but still got Damian to let down his guard and whip his head around looking for his precious dog. Tim shoots him without hesitation and Damian goes on a rage soliloquy.

Jason would appreciate it if he wasn’t having such a hard time with Stephanie. Apparently Barbara has been feeding her steroids, because the girl is now as quick as a ninja. She hits Jason in the kneecaps with Tim’s staff - they’re not even in the same team this time, how the fuck did she get Tim’s staff??? - and shoots him point blank in the chest. And damn, that shit hurts. He bets it’s purple under his shirt too.

Steph is mid celebration when her victory whoop turns into a pained groan. Twin splotches of red and yellow bloom on her back as Cassandra and Tim lower their guns.

“Fuck,” Jason complains. “Couldn’t’ve done that before she killed me?”

“We win,” Cassandra says.

“Shouldn’t you be fighting to the death now?” Dick asks. Now that Cass is off his back, he’s lying on the side like one of your French girls. Jason wishes Cass would shoot him again.

“I would never betray Cass,” Tim says.

“We rule together.” She walks to him and stands on her tiptoes to kiss his forehead.

Tim grins a wicked grin because he knows he is Cassandra’s favorite and everyone can die mad about it.

Steph and Damian start shouting their complaints at the same time while Dick laughs his ass off. From his lawn chair, Duke is glaring at them as if he can’t believe he’s legally related to any of these weirdos.

His gaze meets Dick’s and his older brother looks absolutely elated with pride even though all of their siblings are yelling about paintball.

Jason simply smiles back.