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disgustingtwitches · 1 month ago

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A Rose In Harlem

You're stuck in a romcom with your new asshole neighbor, Simon Riley

Masterlist

PART 1

A rose in Harlem starts to bloom…

***

Simon despises New York. But, truth be told, he hates every big city; they're all too loud, too crowded, and too filthy. Too prone to tragedy and attacks. He much preferred the solitude of the countryside, miles of quiet stretching in every direction. As long as he had one of his squad mates snoring close by and the soft chirp of crickets, he could sleep far better than he ever did now.

Because right now, someone decided that playing Shakira at nine in the morning on a Sunday was acceptable. The ceiling shook with every kick of the bass. Simon stared up at the ceiling, frustration gnawing at his patience. He considered himself a patient man, but his sleep was sacred. He barely got any as is; nightmares he refused to acknowledge, waking up in cold sweats, insomnia from irregular missions. He’d fallen asleep just as the sun rose. And now it was… 9:01 AM. He groaned while he rolled off his mattress on the floor and stretched, muscles tight as ever.

Throwing on some sweatpants and a hoodie, he headed next door, ignoring the little doorbell with a camera on it.

He pounded on the door, adjusting his mask. Nine bangs and the music finally stopped. A feminine voice came through the speaker,

“Can I help you?”

“Your music’s too loud.”

There was a pause.

“Welcome to Harlem,”

That was all he heard before the music up again-louder than before. He clenched his jaw and took a deep breath in. Go to your happy place, his mandated therapist told him. He doesn't have a fucking happy place. His childhood home? His shitty flat back in London? In his new, somehow shittier apartment in New York? He thinks that the back of his eyelids are the happiest place he knows of, just blank and dark. On some days he wishes that he'd stay in that darkness for good.

He clears his throat and opens his eyes, looking at the stupid little camera in front of him. He pounds on the door again, harder this time. The door seemed to flinch under his fist. The music didn’t stop this time, just lowered.

“Jesus, you knock like a cop.”

The voice on the other end sighed, annoyed. The fucking audacity.

“Lower your music. Surprised no one else has complained.”

“Because they know how to mind their business. Keep banging on my door, and we’ll have an issue.”

Simon laughed internally. Did she really just say that? He was big enough to make any threat against him ridiculous. Or maybe the camera makes him look smaller than he is. He leaned in towards the camera, finally acknowledging it.

“We’ll have a real issue if this keeps up.”

“Oh really?”

“Really.”

“You’re real bold, you know that? Coming in here, smoking those nasty-ass cigarettes, stinking up the place. Then banging on my door, telling me what to do? Go fuck yourself.”

Simon’s fist clenches as the music turns back up to full volume. He has half a mind to kick down the door and throw those speakers out the window. Maybe the listener too. But he was working on his temper, so as he walked out of the building, he looked up where the nearest hardware store was.

•

It was nearly 3 AM when the drilling started. Right on the wall behind your headboard. What the fuck? You groan and cover your head with your pillow. Who the fuck is drilling at this time? You think for a moment, then remember that big fucker who was pounding at your door earlier. Of course, it's him; of course, he'd be the type of asshole to do some shit like this.

Ten minutes passed, and the drilling stopped. Thank God. Just as you were about to drift off to sleep again, it started back up. You bang on the wall repeatedly out of frustration. There is a moment of silence. Then you hear a few bangs back, mirroring your own before continuing to drill.

You feel like screaming.

“Piece of shit. Wanna wake me up in the middle of the night? Act like you don't have any fucking sense?”

You mumble to yourself, throwing on your slippers and a hoodie. The drilling keeps going as you walk out your door and head to his. You repeatedly press the doorbell indignantly. The whir of the drill stops. You brace yourself to face that hulking mass that you stared at through your doorbell app earlier. Fists clenched in your hoodie pocket and chest tight, breathing hard and fast, still worked up. You think of the right words to call him, something that would cut deep. But after a moment, you realize he's not going to answer the door. Pussy. You say to yourself before turning and storming back to your place.

It was quiet for the rest of the night.

***

You're disoriented when your alarm goes off, eyes blearily looking at the screen, trying to read the time. You drop your face into the pillow, groaning in exhaustion. Ishta wanted to meet you for coffee before work today, which means she wants to talk for at least thirty minutes. You contemplate texting her and calling off the rendezvous, but she gets in a mood when you do that. And you are not in the mood to deal with that today. You roll out of bed and get ready for work.

As if the day couldn't get any worse, the elevator's broken, so you have to use the stairs. Your mood sours with every step down, thinking of all the bullshit that's happened in less than 24 hours. Fucker knocking on your door, talking crazy to you, then waking you up in the middle of the night? Acting like he can do whatever the hell he wants. The hallway reeks of cigarettes.

You bump into someone while walking out of the foyer, distracted by your thoughts and phone, checking to see what time the train is coming. You almost apologize then stop yourself when you look up. It's him.

You're pretty sure he's wearing the same clothes as yesterday: a black hoodie and sweatpants with a face mask. Does he wear that because it's flu season or because he wants to hide his face? Probably the latter.

“You're gonna make people nervous running around like that.”

You don't try to hide your face of displeasure. He is unaffected, catching his breath slowly and deeply. His dark eyes lock with yours.

“Am I making you nervous?”

He asks in a tone that's almost taunting. You roll your eyes, taking a deep breath.

“No.”

“Then why do you care?”

His question upsets you a little.

“Because I'm a decent person,”

Is what you settle on. His eyebrow twitches. You don't like how heavy the air suddenly gets. You adjust your bag and step around him, rushing to the subway.

***

Ishta giggles zooming in on the man on your screen.

“He looks tall. And strong.”

You sigh, taking your phone back and tucking it into your bag.

“He's an asshole.”

“He's hot.”

“You can't even see his face!”

You groan, exasperated. This is the first time you actually get to lead the conversation, and the topic isn't even about you.

“I knew it was only a matter of time when I saw that stupid Chick-fil-A open up here. Now we have him running around like he owns the place.”

You sigh into your tea, trying to calm down. Ishta is enjoying this much more than you.

“They opened another one up at 181st too,”

Ishta smirks, leaning back into her chair.

“Do you think I'll be seeing any big, strong, mysterious men in my neighborhood anytime soon?”

She laughs when you make a face. Putting your cup down, you groan.

“He's British.”

Ishta waves her hand around, gold jewelry catching the light of the rising sun.

“Oh babe, he can't help it. You know, I heard it's a genetic thing.”

Her smirk turns into a wide smile when you chuckle at that. Maybe today won't be so bad.

Wrong.

You are blindsided coming into work, forgetting your very important presentation with the museum's benefactors. It takes ten minutes just to pull up the slideshow and they all seem unimpressed and bored. Halfway through, your manager calls for a quick break and meets you outside in the hallway.

“What is going on in there?”

She whispers in a harsh tone, leaning so close you can smell her ridiculously overpriced perfume. You bite your lip, avoiding eye contact.

“I'm sorry, my neigh-”

She pinched the air, manicured fingernails held up to your face.

“I don't care what you got going on, just don't embarrass me like that again.”

It takes all of your strength not to smack her hand away. She stares at you, waiting for a response. But you keep your mouth shut, knowing that if you open it you'll likely lose your job. She pulls back, straightening out her skirt.

“Try to be more engaging. And you look like hell.”

The rest of the presentation goes without a hitch, the benefactors perk up when you start spouting some technolect bullshit about the newest artifacts your department has been working on procuring. Your manager soaks in all the praise like she had anything to do with the newest developments in your department.

The lack of sleep is catching up to you when you're sitting at your desk, staring at the same email for twenty minutes, trying to remember how to tell someone to jump off a bridge professionally.

As per my last email,

You hold the backspace, erasing and writing the same sentence over and over again.

“RISD giving you a hard time with the Hiroshige prints?”

Ishta’s voice startles you, her tall frame hovers over your shoulder. You feel a headache forming right between your eyebrows.

“I don't know what they want from me, they seemed so eager to work with us before.”

“Their board of trustees got a new member, total cunt. The Met is having a hard time too.”

“What the fuck is her deal?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, nearing a total meltdown. Ishta places her hands on your shoulders, taking deep breaths.

“Just close your eyes and think happy thoughts,”

You roll your eyes but humor her, mimicking her breathing.

“Think of getting more grant money. Chocolate cake from the bakery down the street. And your hot neighbor's barrel chest-”

“Knock it off, he's so insufferable.”

You smile, playfully knocking her hand away and waving her off.

“I need to focus now, so go.”

She blew kisses at you while walking away and you turned back to your computer, a small line blinking on a blank screen.

Just following up on my email below. Let me know if I should be talking to someone else about this…

After spending too much time writing your email, you leaned back in your seat, checking your phone absentmindedly, opening your doorbell app and playing the videos of whoever walked by. Miss Dowdy with her miniature pinscher, Nina bringing her groceries, a masked figure donned in all black tucking a cigarette behind his ear.

“Am I making you nervous?”

His words replay in your head, uninvited and relentless. You don’t like the way his voice makes you feel. It crawls under your skin, makes your stomach twist.

***

Your bed feels softer than usual when you flop down on it with a groan, slipping into deep sleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. You jump when you hear a bang. Groan when you hear another. Grit your teeth at the third bang.

Hammering. This jackass is hammering in the middle of the night. Blood boiling, it takes all of your strength to not scream and bang your fists on the wall like a madman. Your head hurts from clenching your jaw while you slip into your slides and storm next door.

You press the doorbell rabidly. It takes a solid minute before the locks click and the door swings open. You stare at the tattoo sleeve that peeks out from under the hoodie he rolled up to his elbow before looking past him and into his bare apartment. It's clean but empty and cold; there is a mattress and a huge TV on the floor, a single chair at a small table, some weights, and a milk crate. He leans against the doorframe, blocking your view.

“Evening.”

He’s insouciant, lighting a cigarette as he addresses you, his calm cutting deeper than any words. Your vision blurs with red, fists trembling at your sides, shaking with the force of your restraint. He catches it, and the corners of his lips twitch upward, like he’s savoring the storm he’s pulled from you. It takes everything in you not to lunge at him, but the bitter knowledge of how futile it would be keeps you rooted in place.

“You're an asshole.”

The words make him hum in acknowledgment, taking a long drag before blowing the smoke into his apartment.

“Don't know what you mean. You're being very hostile to me right now, angel.”

The disparaging pet name sends you over the edge, you snap.

“Don't act stupid. You keep doing that shit and I'll take that dumbass hammer and…”

You keep going like this until your anger subsides, blood no longer molten, just under a simmer for now. His face is stony, eyes unnervingly dark and devoid of any emotion. You wait for his response, the silence stretches for longer than you're comfortable with. He looks down at your chest briefly.

“Chilly out here, huh?”

He finally says, twisting his body to grab an ashtray from the countertop next to him. You furrow your eyebrows, confused.

“What?”

Then you glance down-and your stomach drops. You forgot to put on a bra before coming out. Mortified, you cross your arms in a desperate, clumsy motion. The shame burns hot, but it’s fleeting, quickly overtaken by a rage that feels twice as strong now. If that’s even possible. He cuts you off before you cuss him out (again).

“Start the music later and I'll stop.”

You want to argue. Be stubborn. Lie just to spite him and wake him up bright and early next weekend. But you’re too damn tired. And he’s too damn good at making your life miserable when he wants to. So you sigh, rolling your eyes with the kind of exasperation that feels like defeat.

“Fine. Yes. Whatever. Just stop banging on the fucking wall.”

He stubs out his cigarette, shoving the ashtray aside like it’s an afterthought. He turns, stretching lazily, his arms braced against the doorframe, looking every bit the smug bastard he is.

“What’s the magic word?”

“Fuck you.”

That gets him. His split lip twists into a crooked grin, sharp and mean, but somehow entertained all the same. For a moment, it throws you off, and you realize this is the first time you’ve actually seen his face. All of it. Every nasty scar and shadow he hid underneath that mask.

He snaps his fingers and points at you amusedly.

“Yeah, that’s the one. Night, angel.”

And with that, he shuts his door, leaving you in the hallway alone to stew in your frustration.

You tuck your annoyance away while lying down to sleep, you've spent enough time stressing over that man and you'll be damned if he messes with your sleep anymore than he already has.

***

"A mattress on the floor and some weights? That's it?"

Ishta's voice crackles through the phone, entirely too enthusiastic about the details you're sharing. It's clear her concern lies more with Mr. Asshole than with you. She's already connecting dots you wish she wouldn't.

"You know guys like that always have good dick,"

She says, tone smug.

"All they need is a bed and a pull-up bar or something. The rest takes care of itself."

You sigh, leaning on the windowsill and opening the bedroom window, letting the cool air hit your face.

"Is dick all you think about?"

"Maybe if you got some decent dick in your life, you'd be less stressed. How do you think I keep so calm?”

“You said it was kickboxing last week.”

You wedge the phone between your shoulder and ear, twisting the cap off a bottle of rosé. She continues,

"Well, that too,"

Her voice is light and breezy, like this is just common knowledge.

"But it's all about balance—therapy, exercise, and, you know, some mind-blowing se-ex."

She drags the last word out, sing-songy and teasing, the grin in her voice unmistakable. You can picture her lounging somewhere, phone in hand, not a care in the world. You roll your eyes and take a sip, the tart sweetness of the wine softening your irritation.

"Dick is more trouble than it's worth."

That sets her off, laughter bubbling through the phone. It’s the kind of laugh that makes you soften; it’s contagious, disarming, and you hate how it pulls the corners of your mouth up despite yourself. She catches her breath,

“Oh, please. You just never got good dick.”

“I've gotten good dick!”

“Not recently!”

You finally give in, a reluctant laugh slipping out, satiating her smug amusement before you bid her a quick adieu and hang up.

Putting on something soft and slow, you hum along, the melody wrapping around you as you sip your wine. The night feels calm, city heat radiating from the sidewalks finally cooling down, loud music being played a block over. Leaning out the window, you take in the cool air, only to startle when you spot him sitting on the fire escape, smoke curling lazily from his cigarette.

“Jesus fuck! ”

You jump, heart pounding as you clutch your wine glass.

He looks at you, unbothered, a glint of amusement in his eyes as he takes a slow drag. You’ve seen his scarred face before, but now you really take it in: the crooked nose, proof of who knows how many fights; the slit through his eyebrow, jagged and uneven; the deep-set eyes that seem to pierce right through you; and a jawline that looks like it could cut glass.

He shifts, catching you staring, and for a moment his brow furrows, like he doesn’t like it. But then, he talks, voice low and calm, smoke puffing out between his words.

“That true?”

He asks, breaking the silence as he exhales a plume of smoke.

You blink, caught off guard.

“Is what true?”

He flashes a smile, like he just thought of a joke.

“You never got good dick?”

Your face gets hot,

“Do you usually listen to people's conversations?”

“Only when it pertains to me.”

“How do you know I was talking about you?”

“You familiar with a lot of men who sleep on the floor?”

You twist your face, disbelief etched in every feature.

"No. I am not."

"Yeah, didn't take you for an easy lay."

He tilts his head, a flicker of smugness dancing in his dark eyes.

"Need some good dick?"

You cringe, the audacity hitting like a slap to the face. He shrugs, unapologetic, like he's just offered you a drink instead of an indecent proposal.

"Offer stands. You know where I am."

"Unfortunately."

You mutter, disgust laced in the single word. He drinks up your venom, savoring the bite in your tone. He places a hand on his chest, feigning hurt.

“You wound me, angel.”

Does he ever take anything seriously?

“Are you always such a jerk off?”

He points at you, cigarette dangling between his fingers.

“You know, you like calling me every name under the sun, don't you wanna know what it actually is?”

“What? Your actual name? Thought you preferred ‘asshole’.”

He snorts,

“Might as well, seeing as you've got that down pat.”

He cocks his head, shadows cutting across his face, deepening the scars and crooked edges of him. His face was rough, but you always liked character—distinct features that tell a story.

You don't say anything, trying to hide your flicker of curiosity by sipping your wine, but he sees right through you.

“Simon. Be sure not to wear it out. Yet.”

“I like ‘asshole’ better.”

“Does have a nice ring to it, doesn't it?”

He stands, towering from your perspective as you perch on the windowsill. He stretches, a casual movement that feels anything but. Your eyes betray you, catching on the faint trail of hair that starts at his belly button and disappears under his waistband. He’s definitely doing this on purpose.

“Night, angel.”

He winks, self-satisfied.

“Bye, asshole.”

Your voice has softened, more playful than biting. He flicks the butt of his cigarette onto the street below before looking down at you.

“Good girl.”

The words are tossed down like a gauntlet, casual and deliberate, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. Your stomach twists, warmth spreading before you can clamp it down. You frown, annoyed—at him, at yourself, at how easily he gets under your skin. You sit back, swirling the last drops of wine in your glass as you watch him slip through his own window, vanishing into the dark. You hate the way his words echo in your head.

You're not gonna fuck your neighbor. Don't fuck your neighbor.

#asshole Simon you will always have my heart #a rose in Harlem #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost x you #ghost x you #ghost x reader #cod x reader #cod x you

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zeltqz · 1 year ago

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selfish | haitani ran

synopsis. haitani ran wants you, but can't have you because it would be considered selfish. content. 12k words (listen ik its long just hear me out..), fem!reader, friends to enemies to lovers, mild fwb situation gone wrong, ran's mother is in prison and gives shitty advice, implied sexual harassment (some creepy junkie, nothing happens though), mildly toxic ran, possessiveness, alcohol mentions, ran says hurtful things when he's drunk. NSFW content. authors note. this was inspired by an ask that i changed up a little because i LUV drama, so anon if you see this and recongise the plot creds to uuuuuuuuuuuuuuu for the idea!!!!

You were jolted awake by the violent buzz of your phone, muffled by your pillow. You groggily sat up, wiping your eyes and slapped around under your pillow for your phone. Carefully, you rolled to the far edge of your bed and answered.

“Hello?”

“Come down. I’m outside.”

“Ran it’s…2 in the morning.”

“Just come. I want to talk to you.”

You slipped from your bed, yawning and grabbing your house keys on the way out. Once you were outside, the instant regret of not bringing a jacket hit you as you shivered from the cold. You were about to run back inside, but decided against it when you saw Ran’s car parked at the end of the road, the lights on and the windshield wipers actively wiping away the snow.

You resisted the urge to dramatically slam the door shut when you got in the car. “There better be a zombie apocalypse happening right now if you think waking me up at 2 am was a good idea.”

“So I can only contact you when the world is ending?”

“At 2am, yes.” You leaned your head back against his car seat, mindlessly closing your eyes to savour onto the lingering signs of sleep. “Why’re you even here? I thought you were out of town.”

“I had plans.” He drummed his fingers along the steering wheel.

“Like plans or ‘plans’?” His smile turned into a smirk and you grimaced. “Ew don’t touch me.” He laughed playfully and gestured at your seatbelt. You put it on as he started the car, pulling out onto the main road.

“So where are you taking me anyway?” you asked, plucking at a loose thread on your pyjama bottoms.

“Nowhere in particular. Just driving around.”

“Cool. So why am I here then?”

“Wanted company. Is that so wrong?”

You looked his way, wondering if he was being serious right now. “Why didn’t you call your brother then? Or literally anybody else.”

“Because I wanted to see you.” He glanced in your direction, seeing the stunned expression on your face that you quickly fixed when you realised he was staring.

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah sure. Whatever.” You yawned and turned to the side to lean against the window.

“If you’re tired you can sleep.”

“I don’t wanna fall asleep on you. That’s rude.” Another yawn. “I’ll manage it.”

“You hungry?” he asked, pulling up towards a late night fast food drive-thru across the street.

“Kinda. Now that I think about it, I barely ate all day.”

“Don’t know how you do it honestly.” He was plucking at his baby hairs as he slowed the car to a stop. “Alright whaddya want.”

You peeked past his body to look at the menu on the wall, the bright lights straining your tired eyes. “Literally anything. I don’t care.” He clicked his tongue and stared at you. You sighed. “I don’t want you to waste money on me.”

“Don’t stress,” he said, waving off your concern with a wave of his hand. You settled in your seat as he rolled down the window. You were distractedly scrolling on your phone to pass time as he spent the next five minutes ordering.

Looking up, you saw he already had the bag of food on his lap, but instead of handing it to you, his arm is leaning against the window, smirking as he talks to the cashier working the drive-thru. She has her finger twirling her hair, leaning so far from the narrow window you’re surprised she hasn’t fallen out yet.

“Hello?? Can we go?!” you snapped.

“Oh, sorry.” The girl leered in your direction, taking you back momentarily before she fixed her features in time when she looked back at Ran. “It was nice meeting you,” she said softly, her voice lacking the same venomous tone she gave you earlier.

“Pleasure meeting you too. See you around beautiful.” You don’t know if he winked or did his signature smirk at her, but it was something of that nature because she had to fan herself to calm the redness on her face as his car began driving off.

You took the bag of food from his lap and ripped it open. “Do you really have to flirt with every girl you meet?”

“Someone sounds jealous.” You weren’t even looking in his direction but you could envision the shit eating grin of his face when he said that.

“I’m not jealous. I just know how to keep it in my pants and not go around flirting with every guy I meet.” You bit the packaging of the straw and poked it in your drink more aggressively than you intended.

“Have you maybe thought that’s because you just suck at flirting?”

You almost choked on your drink with how quick you moved your head to face him. “I don’t suck at flirting!”

He snorted, taking one hand off the wheel to support his head as he leaned against the door. “Sureeeeeeeee.”

“Don't say sure like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t believe me!”

He shrugged. “I don’t.” He stopped the car at a red light. “Show me how you flirt then.”

You stared down at the food in your hands, contemplating if you should. When you looked up, you saw him already staring at you, waiting. “Fine.” You wiped your hands and set your food back down, putting it back in the takeout bag before shifting to face him on your seat.

You cleared your throat, readying yourself to speak. The second you opened your mouth, it was like your mind blanked and you instantly closed it again. “This is too embarrassing. I can’t.”

“It’s only embarrassing if you make it embarrassing,” he responded back, shifting his attention back on the road when the light changed to green.

“No. I just know you’re going to laugh at me if I do it.”

“No I won’t.” He put a hand over his heart. “Scouts honour”

“You’re so ridiculous,” you grumbled but laughed nonetheless. “Okay, I’ll do it once we get home. I need time to prepare.”

Ran seemed to agree with that and in the fifteen minutes it took you to get home, you finished your food. He was parked outside your house across the street and you were idly sipping at your drink.

“Alright, ready?” He turned the engine off, leaving the radio still on.

“Wait this is my favourite song.” You inched forward to turn the volume up only to recoil when he slapped your hand away. “What the hell?!”

“Stop stalling.” He ignored the frustrated look on your face. “Show me already. I didn’t drive you here for nothing.”

“You shouldn’t have driven here at 3 in the morning anyway!”

“So ungrateful.” He pinched your nose with two fingers, laughing when you swatted him away. “Show meeee.”

“Okay fine! Fine!” You set your drink in the cupholder and turned to look at him. “I actually don’t know how to flirt.”

“Had a feeling.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Want me to teach you,” he asked gently, looking directly into your eyes. You found it hard to look away in that moment, like so much was riding on your answer.

You nodded slowly. “Yeah… okay…”

“Alright. Guys love it when you’re confident and can hold eye contact. So hold eye contact as much as you can, but don’t stare like a creep. That shit’s weird. Show ‘em you’re engaged in the conversation when they’re talking about themselves and just stare into their eyes. Shit, that even gets me all fuzzy when a girl knows how to hold it. Had me stutterin’ and shit once.”

You blinked and envisioned a stuttering, flustered Ran in your mind. “Really? Eye contact? That’s all?” He shrugged and nodded. “That sounds really hard to believe honestly.”

“Really?” You nodded. “Reaaaally?” he repeated, extra slow, giving you enough time to back out when you have the chance.

“Yes. Reaaaaally Ran.”

“Tell me what you did today.”

You crossed your arms and looked up at the ceiling. “Well…I woke up this morning…I went to work, had lunch, worked until 4, then came home and studied.”

“In detail.”

“Is that really necessary?” you complained, but the look on his face was completely serious. Sighing, you settled back into your seat. “Okay so I went to bed late as fuck last night and I woke up at like 12 which was so bad because my shift started in fifteen minutes. So I wondered whether or not I should go and—”

“Look at me when you talk.”

You were about to slap him. You sighed and turned to look at him.

“I went to back late last night and woke up at like…” Your mind blanked, and you struggled to find your words or remember what the hell you did hours ago with him looking so intently at you. “...11 ish? Which was—”

“You said it was 12, no?” he tilted his head, his stare unwavering.

You gulped. “Yes. Sorry. I woke up at 12 and my shift started at 12:15.” Your face burned. Just what the hell was wrong with you. In that moment, you felt like you were out of your own body, spirit you watching as you did nothing but blink uselessly at Ran. You fought the urge to slap yourself and ignore his slutty mind tricks.

You looked down at your lap only to have him lift your face back to him with a single finger. “You’re not done with your story yet.”

“...right…right.” You cleared your throat again. He leaned forward, forearms resting on the steering wheel, locking his gaze on you. Was Ran always this hot? Surely you’ve noticed it before but not like this, where your mind is focusing only on him, and pushing all other stray thoughts out of the way

You inhaled deeply and regained composure. “And I briefly considered whether or not I should go in late…but my boss has been kinda mean to me lately and…”

He raised an eyebrow, nodding as he studied your face, and urged you to continue when you stopped talking.

“...so I went in and finished my shift. My boss wasn’t too mad at me which was good I guess.”

“Then what?” His voice was purposefully different than usual, it was lower in that moment, throwing you off balance completely.

Your throat suddenly felt dry. “One second.” You grabbed your drink from before and began taking long sips from it, still feeling the intensity of his stare against the side of your face. Once you gulped half the drink down, you forcefully swallowed your burp, not wanting to ruin the weird, but heated atmosphere in the car with your natural bodily functions.

“Then I went home to study for my exam on Thursday and fell asleep. Then your annoying ass woke me up and here I am.”

He laughed lightly, pulling back to return back to his seat. “How hard was that? Be honest.” His head rested back against the headrest, smirking at you. “Don’t lie now.”

You looked down at your lap, averting your eyes from his and refusing to make eye contact. You hated that you had to admit that it actually worked, his intense eye contact had actually effected you. He kept urging you until you persisted and you groaned inwardly. “Fine. It worked.”

“Seeeeee?” He jostled you playfully, and you smiled weakly. “I told ya. Anyway, want more advice?”

“There’s more?” Was the eye contact not enough? You didn’t even want to think how much power this man has.

“Yeah. Say his name a lot. Drives me crazy when I hear a girl say my name.”

You snorted. “Sounds oddly narcissistic of you,” you retorted before you could catch yourself. “Sorry.”

“(Y/N),” he called your name in a deep, rumbling tone that had you internally shut down and log off.

Once you came back, you grinned, impressed. “Wow…you’re good,” you admitted, subtly rubbing your hand along your arm to rid it of the goosebumps that seemed to sprout up whenever he spoke to you in that tone. “You’re actually a danger to society.”

“It’s fun making girls all flustered.” His hand rose to rest on your thigh. When you didn’t shrug it off or tell him to stop, his fingers began to caress softly against your skin. His touch felt electrifying, zapping through the fabric of your pyjama bottoms as he continued his actions.

“Something wrong?” he asked teasingly when he saw you struggle to control yourself, clenching your thighs together.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“You’re not gonna tell me to stop?”

“No.”

“I see.” His thumb continued to stroke your inner thigh.

You don’t know what possessed you at that moment, but you grabbed his hand and placed it between your legs. He looked at you, confused and surprised at your sudden boldness.

You pulled him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck, and whispered into his ear, “I can be seductive too, you know?”

Something in your words ignited a flame inside him, something primal and raw when your lips softly grazed down his ear. He turned his head to meet yours.

“I’m sure you can be,” he said softly, leaning in to kiss you gently. The kiss was only a soft press of his lips against yours, and your desire to want him to kiss you for real grew stronger by the second.

His hand moved down your body, helping you pass the console to straddle him. One hand slid down the back of his neck as you kissed each other hungrily, your tongue sliding out to meet his. He bit your bottom lip, gently sucking it while running his tongue along the inside of your mouth, slowly parting your lips with his.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, pulling away to look down at him, resting your forehead against his. You went back in, and the kiss quickly turned heated, hungry and wild. “This doesn’t mean anything, right?” you asked, panting slightly.

He broke the eye contact to look down at his hands on your waist, sliding down to your hips and held you firmly in place, leaving no space between you. “Nah. Let’s just have fun.”

He cupped the back of your neck to bring you in for another kiss, your insides melting as your body temperature rose at the feeling of his rough hands working you over. He fumbled with the drawstrings of your pj bottoms until they loosened, slipping his hands inside, desperate to touch bare skin.

“No panties,” he grinned against your lips, giving you a peck when you flushed.

“They’re uncomfortable at night…gotta let it breathe, you know?” you mumbled, looking down at his lap.

He nudged your head up using his own and reattached his lips to yours. His hands continued to explore your body, roaming up and down your back, clutching at your waist. He placed his hand firmly on the back of your head, gilding your head movements into the kiss.

His thumb traced circles on the soft flesh on your hip as your mouth left his to plant open, wet kisses along his neck, teeth nipping and skimming when the radio thought it’ll be a wonderfully convenient idea to switch from the soft music it was playing earlier, to sudden heavy death metal, loud instruments and screaming booming through the car.

You both jumped apart, your head smacked against the roof of the car, wailing as you winced when Ran started laughing. “It’s not funny!”

He doesn’t stop laughing because why would he, but he at least reached forward, your body on his lap following his movements as he turned the volume down.

“Why do you even have that on your playlist?!”

“Rindou had a…phase. I hate it too, don’t worry.”

You continued to rub the sore spot and pouted when you felt a headache blooming, already kissing goodbye to your good night’s sleep tonight.

“Come here.” He smoothed a hand over the sore spot. “Better?”

“Kinda.” Your sour mood lessens and you start laughing, hiding your face in his shoulder. Your shoulders shook as you struggled to control your laughter. He laughed alongside you, his arms tightening around your body as he pulled you back against him.

“That scared the living shit out of me,” you panted, finally catching your breath, kissing down the side of his neck.

He turned his face to properly meet yours. You kissed him deeply, slowly rocking your hips with his as his strong hands squeezed tightly against your ass. After a while, you broke the kiss, your body now craving more than just kissing.

“Stop teasing me,” you complained, pushing him lightly on the chest.

“‘S fun seeing you so worked up,” he said with a shitty smirk, pressing a kiss to your neck. Your head lolled back as he steadily worked his way down the column of your throat, then down your chest.

His fingers bunched around the hem of your shirt, about to tug it off when you looked outside. The sun was still dark, but the promise of sunrise just around the corner as it rounded near 4 am. Obviously people wouldn’t be up and walking around this late, but the thought still made you stiffen.

“What’s wrong?” Ran asked, pausing with your shirt half way up your stomach.

“Can we go inside?” you asked, dragging the tips of your nails along the flat plane of his stomach. Despite having spent the last ten minutes making out with this man, the question implied more and your face burned when his eyes widened a bit.

You looked down at your hands moving under his shirt, tracing patterns across his skin and bit down a giggle when he squirmed as you hit a particularly ticklish spot, poking his belly button. You took a mental note of that for later…

“You sure you wanna?” he asked carefully. You nodded. “Alright. Let’s go.”

You quietly stumbled out of the car, holding his hand as you crossed the street to your house. You were fumbling with your keys, hard to find the keyhole in the darkness. It wasn’t helping your focus and accuracy with Ran behind you, fingers caressing your hips and waist, nipping at your neck. You let out a soft moan, giving up with your keys to lean your head back against his shoulder to give him more access before you quickly came to your senses.

“I need to open the door, go away,” you said with a huff, ignoring his laughter as you pushed him away.

The door slammed shut and you locked it before pouncing on Ran, letting him press you up hard against the door as he hungrily devoured your mouth. His lips branded the soft skin of your neck as he dipped lower, carrying you to your bedroom. You were dropped mindlessly on your bed, bouncing from the impact as he hovered over you, your mind pleasantly blank as you focused solely on how badly you needed him right now.

His fingers slipped down your underwear and you saw stars.

~*~

As you were walking through the aisles of the grocery store, your music was interrupted by your phone ringing. You jerked your phone out from your jeans pocket to stare at the caller ID. Just a long string of numbers.

“Who is this?” you asked suspiciously, racking your brain for a time you handed your number out to anyone you hadn’t saved.

“It’s Ran. What, forgot about me already?”

Your mood immediately dampened and you clutched your phone tighter in your hand. “Why’re you calling me?”

“Easy with the hostility, man. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“And you couldn’t have done this, I dunno, in the two months you spent ghosting me? And don’t tell me “easy with the hostility”, I have a right to be fucking mad after you just hit and dipped like that.”

“Hit and dipped?”

“You ghosted me dumbass.”

You heard a loud exhale. “Right… yeah about that.”

“What do you want Ran?”

“I miss you.”

You almost forgot how to breathe. “Areyoufuckingkiddingmerightnow?”

“You heard me. I said I missed you.”

“Let me guess, there’s no other girls available right now, right? That’s why you’re bugging me?” It would be a wild accusation if not for the fact after that night you spent together, his phone buzzed incessantly, the constant vibrations waking you up and you saw notifications of girls in his inbox, sending him the usual “are you up?” text messages, followed up with images of themselves half naked.

He hummed. “Why would there be other girls? I’m talking to you right now.”

“Because you’re you.”

“Ok, but I’m serious though. I miss you a lot.” You found it so hard to give this man any sympathy.

“Well who’s fault is that? Nobody asked you to stop speaking to me after that night.”

“I know I know. I messed up. I just didn’t know how to approach you after that.” He sounded seriously stressed over this, and your face softened for a fraction of a moment before memories of you constantly checking your phone to see if he bothered to open your message yet reappear in your mind; just like that, your scowl is back, sympathy long gone.

“Right. Because THE Haitani Ran gets nervous after sex. Wow, shocker.”

“I mean, you were the best lay I ever had.”

Your traitorous heart stuttered without your permission, making your lips quirk up into a smile. “Really?” You cursed yourself for even entertaining his bullshit, and cursed your body even more for reacting in such a manner.

“Yeah, course you were.”

“Then why’d you ghost me? It’s like you want me to hate you. I swear to god for the life of me I’ll never under male logic.”

“It’s not male logic. ‘S just me, being a dumbass.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“This was different though because we were friends before we fucked, and I didn’t wanna make things weird. I had no clue how to text you after that.” You guessed that made sense, having felt the same awkwardness the morning after waking up sore with him beside you.

“Oh. Well, it’s only weird if you make it weird.”

“Right. So…can I make it up to you?”

“How?”

“Let’s hang out.”

“Like hang out or ‘hang out’?” Part of you wanted it to be the first one, not wanting to ruin anymore awkwardness in your friendship by sleeping with each other again. But the other part of your body already was hellbent on it being the second, already addicted to the way he makes you feel in bed.

“The former. But,” his voice dropped lower, “it can also be the latter, if you’re down.”

“I’m down,” you said a bit too quickly for someone trying to seem indifferent.

“Cool. See you tonight then.”

Before you could say goodbye, he was already saying hi to someone else, and then hung up. Any negative emotions you felt for him was tempered by the excitement buzzing through your limbs as you continued shopping for groceries with a dopey smile on your face, happy you were able to patch things up.

~*~

Time passes since you both agreed to this weird friends with benefits arrangement. All awkwardness is stomped on and thrown out the window, now more open to the matter. Months go by of you losing yourself in his sheets, of him mapping out your body with his tongue, latching his mouth onto your skin and marking you all over. Months go by of you craving his touch whenever you’re alone, picturing his voice in your ear, his presence caging you from above when you’re with other men. Months go by of you both making plans, with you, more than him, staring at your phone the entire day, starting the mental countdown to when you’re next able to see him.

Life is good for Ran, until the day he dreaded the most every year rolls around. The day he has to visit his mother in prison along with Rindou. Their meet-ups are nothing more than an annual thing, visiting her on her birthday every year.

“So what have you been up to this year?” she asked disinterestedly.

Ran could see right through her, can see she’s started using again if the bloodshot eyes and the not so subtle way she rubs her nose were any clue.

“Good ma,” Rindou responded. “I’ve took up DJ’ing in a few of Dad’s clubs in my free time.”

At the mention of her ex-husband, she sneered. Rindou rolled his eyes. “Are you gonna do that every time I mention him ma?”

“I’ll react however the fuck I want when you bring up that passed around, dried up whore of a man,” she snapped. Rindou doesn’t react, already used to her mood swings and aggressive comments about his father. She jerked her head over to her weirdly quiet son. “And you? What’s your deal?”

“My deal?” Ran asked, matching her levels of indifference.

“What have you been up to,” she repeated slower, like he was dumb.

“Nothing.”

“What? Your life is that shit you haven’t done anything for the past year? Nothing at all?” She stared at Ran who responded with silence and a blank stare. “Even I’ve done shit and I’m stuck in this hell hole.”

“Well whose fault is that?” Ran snapped back. Rindou slapped his forehead.

“Listen here you—”

“Ran’s been seeing a girl ma,” Rindou said quickly, hoping that small drop of information about his brother’s life was enough to diffuse a bad situation.

“A girl?? Who?”

“Just some girl. You don’t know her and never will,” Ran grumbled.

“Is she…?” she gestured at him, at herself. He didn’t respond and she changed the wording of her question. “How did you meet?”

“She’s not involved in what we do ma. If that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Good.” She let out an exhale in relief. “And you make sure to leave her out of it.”

“What?”

She pointed her finger at him. “Don’t pursue this girl because you’re selfish and want to bring her in potential danger. Keep her around, fuck her or whatever it is you do in your spare time that you wanna keep a secret from me, but if you pursue her romantically then you’re a selfish piece of shit.”

Ran stiffened, his glare hardening in her direction. “Keep out of my goddamn business.”

“You know I’m right, Ran. That’s why you’re mad. Isn’t that right, Rindou?” She looked at her youngest son who looked tentatively between them both, staying stubbornly silent. She clicked her tongue and turned back to Ran. “You’d rather put this girl in danger because you can’t stand being alone by yourself. You’ve got issues, Ran. That’s why you haven’t had a relationship longer than 3 months. Correct?”

Ran stared down at the table, silent.

“Do you care about her?” she asked and Rindou had no idea if he pictured it or not but it looked like she softened for a moment.

Ran didn’t respond, but nodded in slight movements.

“If you truly care about this girl, you’ll leave her alone. It’s for her own good. Bringing her into your lifestyle is just selfish.”

“Times up,” The officer from the back of the room said, walking towards the table with handcuffs.

She stood up and placed her hands behind her back. “Do the right thing, Ran.”

“How do you know that’s true though?” he asked.

“Speaking from experience. Look at me, suffering from the actions of your father. He brought me into this lifestyle, and I wasn’t prepared for it. So now I’m facing the consequences. You’re just like your father, Ran. An emotionally distant, sadistic, messed up man. Embrace it or don’t. Try to change or don’t. Either way I don’t care. Just don’t ruin others because of that nature.”

The officer tightened her handcuffs and locked them. “Let’s go,” he said, before escorting her out of the room.

Rindou looked at his brother with sympathy. “You okay?” His hand rose to rest of his shoulder but Ran stood up before he could make contact.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and turned around. “Let’s go.”

~*~

You weren’t sure what was going on with Ran but he seemed emotionally distant. He was no longer affectionate towards you when you both hung out, his response time was a lot slower than it used to be. When you had sex, he was totally fine though, which weirded you out because he would randomly do a complete 180 out of nowhere with the affection.

“That was amazing,” you said panting as you collapsed back on the bed. Ran hummed in agreement, gathering you in his chest as you cuddled. You buried your face in his neck, the scent of his cologne heavy in your nose.

“I know,” he sighed, looking down and kissing your forehead. You smiled harder, fighting back the urge to giggle and use his warm body as a blanket.

You were playing with the tip of his braid, occasionally twirling it around the tip of your index finger when you decided now was the time to approach the topic that’d been brewing inside you the last few months.

“So…” you traced your fingernail across the spiral tattoo on his chest.

He looked down at you, a lazy smirk on his face. “So?” He kissed your forehead again.

You bit down on your lip and forced yourself to look into Ran’s eyes. “This might sound cliche, or cheesy or whatever but…”

“Doubt it,” he snorted, taking your hand off his chest and linking his fingers with yours, clutching your hand tightly. When you looked stumped for words, he nudged his shoulder, softly jostling you in the process. “What’s up?”

“Well…” God, this was harder than you thought it would be.

You chewed the skin of your lips as you tried to calm your nerves before you exploded with anxiety. You nearly froze when he placed his thumb against your lip, tugging it free from its brawl with your teeth.

Fuck it. “I just wanted to know…what are we…?”

It didn’t help your already racing nerves when he froze beneath you, and you swore you could feel the blood in his body stop flowing at that moment.

He sat up abruptly, sending you sliding off his chest. You blinked uselessly at the muscled plane of his back, grabbing the sheets and clutching it towards your chest, your body deprived of the warmth his body provided earlier now making your limbs go cold.

He scratched his hair and sighed exhaustedly. “I gotta be honest with you.”

You barely found your voice as you softly said, “Go on.”

“I don’t want a relationship right now.”

“Oh.” You quietly cleared your throat, sitting upright and shifting backwards on your mattress until your back hit the headboard. “With me…or?”

“Anyone.”

“So…what was the point of this then?”

“I dunno? I mean I just thought you liked…” he gestured at the both of you, hoping you’d see where he was coming from. When you didn’t and just stared at him confused, he got more frustrated. “You know, this? What were we doing? I didn’t know you—” He sighed again and groaned.

You felt like your throat was stuffed with cotton with how hard it was to breathe. “But I thought you liked me?”

“I do like you.”

“So then what’s the hold up?”

“Just because I like you doesn’t mean I have to be with you, okay? I’m busy all the fucking time and you’ll just be getting in the way of that,” he said curtly, not bothering to hide the clear frustration in his voice.

Hurt prickled across your skin, your ears felt full as you toned out everything he was saying. He turned to face you, those eyes of his that normally made you flush from head to toe now felt so cold and distant, like you didn’t know who the man in front of you was.

“Just get out, Ran.” You choked back tears as they threatened to fall from your eyes, but you quickly looked away before they could. He’d seen you vulnerable beneath him many times, but this time was different. You couldn’t—no, you won’t allow him the satisfaction of seeing he made you this upset.

“No wait.” He reached out for you, his heart shattering when you pushed him away, sulking.

He had a weird feeling in his chest, one that he wasn’t used to feeling, and instead of combating his emotions like a regular person, he discarded them to the side, pretending they didn’t exist. He sighed exasperatedly and slid off your bed.

You moved to lay down, covering your entire body with your bedsheets as you heard him pack up his things. He silently changed and gently closed the door when he left. Once you heard your front door close, you sat up and wiped your tears, grabbing your phone from your dresser.

The next few hours were spent watching youtube videos, laughing softly at the comments people left. It made you feel less useless about yourself and tried to desperately take your mind off what just happened prior. Honestly, you blame yourself for even bringing it up. It wasn’t worth ruining a two year friendship over.

Sure, it’s normal to catch feelings for a guy that treats you nice, isn’t selfish in bed and actually takes his time to account for your needs. That doesn’t mean you’re romantically interested in him though, right? Guaranteed it could’ve been any other of your friends, like Sanzu or even Mikey and you would’ve developed those same feelings, right?

Before you had any time to digest that topic deeper, a text message notification popped up on your screen.

Ran: ok so that was awkward before. Can we talk this over properly?? I dont want to ruin what we had honestly. It…was a mistake to start sleeping together i know. We both had different intentions and i apologise if I sent you mixed feelings. Your friendship is something I value a lot and I don’t wanna lose that. So can we start over??? Just be friends this time?

You: sure i guess. Sorry if i made things uncomfortable earlier.

Ran: ur good. Ill see you later then?

You: yeah okay

You and Ran had fought many times over the course of your friendship, and each time you both were able to move on like nothing happened. But this time, it just felt different. You felt it.

~*~

“You know it’s 3 in the morning right?” Sanzu rubbed his eyes, yawning obnoxiously. “I mentally check out from 2-10am.”

“Shut up.” You dig around in his pocket and pull out a box of cigarettes. “Give me a lighter.”

“Since when do you smoke?” he asked, then tacked on, “Oh and I don’t have one.”

“Then why do you have a box of cigarettes then?!”

Sanzu blinked at your sudden outburst. “Okay first. Calm down. Inside voices, we’re outside right now.” You fought the urge to point out how contradictory it was to use your inside voice outside but let it slide. “Secondly, why are you acting so…”

“So what?”

“You know…” he looked carefully at you, trying to gauge your reaction if he were to say the words he truly wanted to say.

“If you’re about to say bitchy save it.”

“I wasn’t!”

“Then what were you going to say?” you raised your brow, waiting. He slowly closed his mouth and looked down at the floor in defeat. “Exactly,” you said triumphantly, then exhaled softly and looked around the street for any convenience stores that sell lighters.

“So can I ask why you suddenly want to smoke?”

“I’m stressed out okay?” You began walking towards the 24 hour convenience store across the street, Sanzu following behind you. “I sort of, maybe not, confessed to Ran earlier and he wanted to stay friends. So now I don’t think I can handle being in the same room as him without wanting to die.”

Sanzu yawned again, scratching his eye. “That sucks. I dunno what that has to do with me though.”

“I need company! I feel like I’m going to explode if I’m alone with myself tonight.”

The bell chimed when you both entered the store, instantly heading over to the counter to buy the lighter. The cashier went to the back to grab the lighter.

“All I’m hearing is that you missed me,” Sanzu teased, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He was expecting you to push him off like you normally do. He definitely was not expecting you to chuckle, hug him back and mildly not in agreement.

He backed away dramatically, narrowly avoiding stumbling into a display shelf and tapped your shoulder to get your attention. When you turned around, he kept staring gingerly at your face, causing you to raise your eyebrow.

“What?”

“Who are you and what did you do to my friend?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, pushing him away from you. The cashier handed you the lighter and you paid him, leaving the store with Sanzu behind you. Grabbing the box of cigarettes, you lit one up and exhaled for the nth time tonight.

“Do you think it’s normal for a guy to just be friends with a girl they used to have a thing with? Or if it’s normal for them to be friends with girls they know like them?”

Sanzu shrugged. “Are you asking the opinion of all men or just Ran? Because nobody knows what that guy is thinking when it comes to women. He’s way too comfortable around girls so probably? I mean, it’ll be in the back of his mind, sure, but as long as you’re not awkward around him it’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Guess we’ll have to see.” He pulled the cigarette from your mouth and dropped it on the floor, stubbing it out with his foot. At your shocked face, he held his hand out. “I don’t want you taking on bad habits because you’re having an emotional meltdown.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m not having an emotional meltdown.”

“Sure…” He yawned for the fifth time tonight. “If I stay out any longer I’m going to pass out on the street. I’ll see you later, okay?” He pat you on the head, deliberately ignoring your complaint of “don’t fuck up my hair” and made his way home.

~*~

In the time you spent avoiding anything Ran related, that also meant avoiding people and situations that he was guaranteed to be there. It meant you stop hanging out with your mutual friends in groups, stopped going to parties you knew he was hosting. Was it bad your other friendships had to be jeprodized because you were too scared to confront your newfound, fresh start with Ran? Yeah, it wasn’t your proudest moment either. But it also meant you were spending a lot more time with Sanzu and Mikey. Out of everyone in his gang, they were the least close, only talking to each other with work related issues. Sanzu and Ran had this unspoken hatred with each other, that made the two of them avoid each other at all costs, not wanting to start another argument or fight.

That was great news for you because it would mean no impromptu visits, like the incident at Hanma’s house, or no unexpected calls from Ran like when you were hanging out with Kakucho, or no fear that Ran would be upstairs in his room when you were hanging out with Rindou.

Hanging out with Sanzu more often also meant getting closer with Senju. She’s two years younger than you and you treated her like a little sister. It was her birthday next weekend and Takeomi was in charge of the planning the surprise birthday party, which meant nobody had a single clue who was coming.

If that were the case, you wouldn’t have shown up that day.

“Ran. Are you going to Senju’s party?” Takeomi asked, exhaling cigarette smoke over the phone.

“Do I have to? I don’t know that girl.”

“I don’t care what you do. Just tell me so I can start planning her shit.”

“Depends honestly. Who’s going?”

Takeomi started listing off the names which included some of Senju’s college friends that Ran didn’t care about, some of their mutual friends like Sanzu (duh), Mikey, Kakucho, you, Rindou—wait, hold up.

“Wait, (y/n)’s going?” Ran cut Takeomi off mid sentence.

Takeomi grunted. “Yes.”

“Fine. I’ll go.” He hung up before Takeomi could say anything. Honestly Ran couldn’t care less about Senju, his only motivation was the thought of seeing you.

The fact he sent you that message, hoping it’ll mend whatever dent was placed in your friendship, only to get slapped in the face when you spent the last four months avoiding him pissed him off to no extent. He wasn’t blocked, he knew you wouldn’t do that to him, but he didn’t have the courage to check either. Maybe this party would be the perfect time to talk to you, to catch up and mend until he could selfishly hold you in his arms again.

He didn’t spend the whole four months pining over you, the group of girls in his bed would confirm that, but there was an unknown feeling in his chest, something always wriggling at the back of his mind that he knew distantly was caused by you. It was getting annoying, having his shitty mother’s words ringing in the back of his mind every time he thought about making up with you. It took him about three months to realise that he actually loved you, whether that was a fact he wanted to accept or not. That feeling he was deliberately avoiding, was his conscious telling him to stop self sabotaging himself and just tell you how he feels.

He can’t wait to see you next Saturday.

~*~

When Ran says he knew nothing about your life in the last four months it wasn't an exaggeration. He genuinely had no idea who you were with, what you were doing, where and when. So you could only imagine his shock when he sees you’ve somehow become best buddies with Manjiro and fucking Sanzu, the idiot currently sitting between your legs on the floor as you braided his hair.

You looked so pretty tonight, dressed up semi formal. Your hair and makeup was done in a way that Ran had never seen you in before. Senju sat beside you, talking loudly and making you laugh. Sanzu scrolled on his phone, waiting for you to finish his hair. Mikey sat next to you, his head resting on your shoulder as he looked like he was on the verge of sleep.

If you noticed him come in tonight, you sure hid it well, not even bothering to acknowledge his existence. He was planning on talking to you after Senju blew out her candles, that was until he saw what he did.

After a load of drinks, everybody was pretty tipsy, including you and Manjiro as you both made out in the patio, his hands caressing your thighs as you sat sideways on his lap. The patio was filled with Senju’s friends in the pool, the smell of barbecue (requested by Senju) filling the air as people hovered around the grill, desperate for some savoury meat. It was hard to see you and Manjiro at first, but he did, as if his eyes were automatically drawn to you no matter where in the room.

Granted he had no right to feel the way he did, he knows that, and his words from that night constantly play on loop in his mind. He told you he wanted to be just friends and you agreed to that, and friends don’t get mad at friends for having relationships. But his boss of all fucking people? He wouldn’t give this much of a fuck if it was Shion or something.

“Drink up bitch!” Sanzu shoved a cup into Ran’s hand, resting his arm on the taller boy’s shoulder as he watched Ran grimace at the beverage.

“The fuck is this supposed to be?”

“Dunno honestly. Just mixed a bunch of shit together.” Sanzu clinked his cup with his. “You’ll probably wake up tomorrow with memory loss and severe liver damage, but bon appetit.”

“I’m not drinking your mystery drink.”

“Boo. No fun.” Sanzu pouted, taking a big gulp of his drink.

“Why are you even talking to me?”

“Because you look like you’re about to kill somebody and as much as I relate to that feeling, I don’t want any drama on Senju’s birthday. She’ll never shut the fuck up about it. So drink up and enjoy the party dude.” He lifted the cup to Ran’s lips which stayed stubbornly closed until he gave in, making a face as it burned down his throat.

“See! It’s not so bad!” Sanzu slapped his back before walking away, ready to hand out samples of his new drink to random people.

Fifteen minutes later and whatever Sanzu poured in that drink did wonders, Ran couldn’t help but admit. He got over his sour funk sooner than he’d thought. The liquor running through his veins made him socialise a hundred times better and managed to snag five pretty girls’ numbers tonight. He was currently leaning against the wall, hovering beside this girl he couldn’t remember the name of for the life of him (it wasn’t his fault, he blames it on Sanzu), as she tilted up to whisper provocative things in his ear. She looked like she’d be good in bed, and that was all Ran was thinking about when he saw your hair bounce past him.

Ran looked just in time to see you disappear through a doorway, and he abruptly pulled himself away from the girl before him. “I’ll be back in a sec. Just…do whatever,” he said, not even looking at her as he walked away.

When he rounded the corner, his stomach did backflips as he saw you yell something to some people inside a room down the hallway before turning around. You almost recoiled when you saw Ran and mentally cursed the fact there was no objects, or people you could hide behind.

You pressed your lips into a wry smile and tried to walk past him before he grabbed your arm, stopping you. “What, so you’re not talking to me at all now?”

“Okay, calm down. It’s been like four months.”

“Which is a long time?” His phone lit up in his hand, a text message of a girl asking where he is with a string of sad faces emojis, and to add fuel to the fire, a tongue and water splash emoji. Ran clicked his tongue and made a mental note to block her when he’s done with this.

You scoffed. “Sorry I hadn’t been able to entertain you these last four months, Ran. I just assumed girls 1 though 56 had it handled for me.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean,” he said curtly, shoving his phone back in his pocket.

You looked up at him, mouth in a thin line as you hissed, “Exactly how it sounds. Now I have somewhere to be.” You tried to skirt past him but he blocked your way out. He suddenly felt too big, too close, and your simmering temper was beginning to surface. “Ran seriously move.” You tried pushing his chest, but it didn’t work.

“Why? So you can go back to sucking face with Mikey?” Shut up…please, just shut up, sober Ran was yelling inside his head, but the words just came out before he could stop them. Note to self, never drink anything from Sanzu ever again.

“Sucking face? Why are you…why do you even care?! You’re the one that said “I don’t want a relationship right now” so you don’t get a right to act all possessive over me and shit. Just because you’re too emotionally stunted to maintain a goddamn relationship, doesn’t mean everybody else is like that.” Your chest burnt with anger at his fucking audacity. Seriously, who does he think he is?

“What, so you want a relationship with Mikey, that it? Someone’s who is even more emotionally stunted than everybody in this fucking party combined?”

“And if I do? Is that your business? Whatever my decision is, it’s not up to you. Now get out of my way.” You leaned in close to his face as you glared up at him. His anger gave way into something more heated that made him lick his lips, wondering how you’d react if he were to kiss you right now. You were about to attempt to walk away when Kakucho stumbled out of one of the rooms in the hallway, slightly tipsy.

“What’s going on? Why are you yelling?”

“Kakucho. Get your boy and tell him to leave me the fuck alone.” You pointed at Ran who snapped out of his stupor.

“Ran, let her leave.”

“Not till I get my answers.”

You pinched your temples, not even bothering to lower your voice as you yelled in sheer frustration, “What answers Ran?! I don’t owe you shit!”

“What’s going on?” Mikey stumbled out of the room you were exiting earlier and his arm instantly found itself on your waist. You were still seething, your heavy breathing only calming down once Mikey’s hand curled a little more around you, pulling you flush against his side.

“Nothing. Let’s go,” you said softly to Mikey, letting him lead you back to the room.

Ran’s anger returned tenfold upon seeing your hand hold Mikey back. “Since when are you two such good friends?”

“That’s none of your damn business,” you yelled back from the end of the hallway, your grip around Mikey tightening significantly.

“Don’t tell me you’re fucking him now? What is he your new boy toy? You’re that desperate?”

Kakucho slapped a hand on his forehead, regretting not pulling Ran away before he had the chance.

You froze at the door, turning to look at him. In the years of your friendship with Ran, he’d seen you get angry many times, yelling at characters in movies when they do something stupid, yelling at him over the mic when you were playing video games. And in every one of those instances, he was never on the receiving end of your anger. The look you gave him, if it could, would’ve turned him to stone with how irate you looked right now. Dimly, he knew what he was doing was wrong, and if he was sober enough he would've definitely stopped himself from saying those things, but he was hurt, and angry, and those two combinations had him feeling like he had a right to make you feel the same way.

“I’m sorry, what?” You stepped out of Mikey’s grip. “Oh this is fucking rich. The irony right now, holy shit!” You began laughing. “If what I’m doing is considered “desperate” to you, then what does that make you? Pathetic? Huh? Needing fifty girls attention on you every second of every fucking day doesn’t seem desperate to you?”

Your loud laughter began to draw people in the party towards the hallway, interested in the loud argument going on. Kakucho grabbed Ran’s arm, shaking his head as if he could read his thoughts. “Don’t respond. Let’s just go.”

Ran shoved his hand off him, sending Kakucho back against the wall. “Nah I’m gonna respond.” He turned back to you, uncaring of all the eyes watching the scene take place. “You stay bringing up these girls in every single conversation I have with you and shame them like you weren’t proud to be one of them months ago.”

Your eyebrows rose in surprise. “So that’s all I was? A number to you? Enlighten me Ran, what number was I? 34? 52?”

“What fucking difference does it make if you know.”

“It makes no difference. I just want to hear you say it.” You closed the distance between you both and poked a finger into his chest. “I wanna hear you say that you enjoy ruining girls lives by making them fall for you with your shitty words and affection, then running away the second things get serious because you’re a coward afraid of stability.”

He pretended your words didn’t cut as deep as they did, pretended your words didn’t take him back to his mother’s birthday all those months ago, sitting at that table and listening to her spew hot garbage in his face about his personality and issues that he refused to acknowledge.

“That wasn’t the case with you. I didn’t tell you to fall for me.”

“That wasn’t the case? So I’m somehow different? How so?”

“Because—” Even in his drunken mind, he knew telling you he loved you now would only pull you further away than you already were. He pressed his lips in a thin line, and looked away from your oppressive stare. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Because your reasoning doesn’t exist, Ran. Stop searching for nothing. You’re a shitty person and you need to acknowledge that.” You pulled your finger away from his chest and turned around, lowering your voice to almost a whisper. “Now just stay out of my life.”

He didn’t say anything and only watched you approach Mikey again, the man not even bothering to look at Ran the entire time as he took you inside the room, closing it shut. Ran’s ears were burning and his chest clenched as he realised the gravity of what he’d just done. So much for making amends.

You went home and instantly blocked his number and cried yourself to sleep that night, regretting even messing with him to begin with.

~*~

“Are you sure this is safe?” you asked, looking around the strange alleyway surrounding you.

“Don’t be a fucking wuss! Besides, I can fight remember? Nobody’s touching me tonight.”

“Yeah but…underground clubs are scary.”

“I know but that’s what makes this so exciting! Come on, let’s go!” She held your hand firm and tightly in her hand, giving you a reassurance squeeze that did nothing to help calm your raging nerves.

“Imagine your brother finds you here tonight,” you laughed.

“Oh fuck. Takeomi would probably lock me in a house with no contact to the outside world for years,” Senju responded, shivering at the thought. She led you down the stairs and opened the janky door, leading you inside the club.

The rest of the night proceeded as follows, Senju getting drunk out of her mind; she nearly passed out on the floor from dancing too much, and you guarded the drinks, making sure nobody gets roofied tonight. This club was known for being shady, with drug transactions being held in the bathrooms of this place, and not just regular drugs, hardcore drugs. You had to use the bathroom and decided holding your pee in was much better than relieving yourself in a bathroom that had a woman passed out on the floor after taking too much drugs.

It was scary, and you had your guard up every second, and only felt relieved when you were carrying Senju outside, back through the alleyway to call for a taxi home. “It was soooooo much fun today. I loved it,” she slurred as you picked her up, struggling to hold her upright.

“Yeah yeah I know. You told me this fifty times already,” you laughed lightly. “Come on, help me a little bit. I can’t carry you all the way, you’re too heavy!”

“I can’t feel my legs~”

“Oh for fucks sake.” You set her agaisnt the wall and caught your breath. You pulled out your phone and decided you had no other choice. You were calling her brother.

“Who are you calling?” she asked after hearing the phone ring.

“Your brother.”

All traces of alcohol left her body as she practically screamed, “YOU’RE CALLING MY BROTHER?!”

“Relax! It’s Sanzu, not Takeomi. I considered Sanzu would be more understanding about this. It’s not like he and Omi are on speaking terms anymore.”

“Yeah but…”

“It’ll be okay, I promise,” you reassured her, patting her head.

“Hullloooo?” Sanzu’s voice rang through the speakers and you instantly perked up.

“Sanzu! Hey! We kinda need your help right now.”

“‘M sorta busy right now. Is it urgent?”

“Senju’s kind of passed out right now and I need help taking her home. I can’t do it myself.”

“Senju’s WHAT?!” Takeomi’s voice boomed through the phone; Senju shivered in fear.

“Sanzu! Why’d you put me on speaker phone you idiot!”

“So I can hear you better! Nothing’s wrong with that!”

You groaned and slapped a hand over your face, whispering sorry to Senju who looked like she was already planning her funeral.

“Where are you guys right now?” Takeomi asked, sounding positively furious.

You gulped, Senju rapidly shaking her head no no no no. “We’re at this club…” you admitted, giving him the address.

“Wait, that club?” Sanzu perked up. “That place is like known for hardcore ass shit bro. Don’t tell me Senju took anything from there?”

“...she did.”

“Ah shit. Yeah, okay. Coming. It’s really close from here Takeomi. Don’t worry, lets’ go.” He turned his attention back to his phone. “You two. Stay right there—”

“You girls look pretty lonely by yourself.” The three of you froze as a deep voice spoke from behind you. You felt time pass in slow motion as you turned around to look at a guy waiting by the club’s backdoor.

“We’re not lonely,” you said slowly. “Thanks for your concern though.”

Senju stood up on shaky legs and clutched onto your arms when she felt his stare on her body. “Yeah, we’re fine.”

“Who is that?” Sanzu asked from the phone.

“I don’t know,” you whispered back, clutching the phone tightly.

“Seriously don’t move. We’re heading out right now. All of us, okay?”

“Okay okay.” You had no clue who “all of us” meant, but you didn’t care, not when the guy slowly stepped away from the wall and began walking towards you both. You missed Sanzu calling for Ran to come in the car with them, your attention solely focused on this strange man in front of you.

“How old are you girls?” he asked, not even bothering to hide the shameless way he was gazing you both up and down.

“It’s none of your business,” Senju spat, slowly stepping back when he began walking forward.

“It’s rude to not answer a question.”

“It’s even ruder to ask personal questions to strangers!”

“Senju, stop. You’re provoking him.” You squeezed her arm roughly, digging your nails into her arm.

“I don’t care! I hate men like him that think they’re entitled to us!”

“Men like me, huh? Go on, babe. Enlighten me on men like me.”

“Senju just ignore him,” you whispered, panic filling you when you looked down at your phone to see Sanzu had already hung up. “Sorry but we really have to get going,” you said to the man, bowing slightly before grabbing Senju’s hand and beginning to walk away from him.

You could hear his footsteps behind you and began walking faster until the point where you were running away towards the end of the alley. The end of the alley seemed so far away with how small your vision was as you panicked hearing him begin to run after you. Senju was a faster runner than you and grabbed your hand tightly, leading the way as you both bolted as fast as you could.

“Stop running girls! I just wanna touch you!” he screamed out, laughing obnoxiously. He was clearly high on something.

Senju bumped into the chest of Takeomi at the end of the alley, and the man came to stop upon seeing Sanzu exit the car, a manic smile on his face.

“You wanna touch my sister huh?” Takeomi gritted out.

“Wow, uh I didn’t mean for—I didn’t know she was—”

Sanzu walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I think we should have a little chat, huh? Come with me.” He had this strangely friendly smile on his face that sent shivers down your spine.

Your heart was beating out of your chest and you barely heard Takeomi telling you both to get in the car. He and Sanzu stayed behind and taught the man a lesson, and Senju slipped in the back, taking up all three seat as she laid down, exhausted.

You had no choice to sit in the front seat. The windows were tinted so you didn’t see Ran until you opened the door. You blinked uselessly at him, fingers tightening against the handle. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving your stupid ass, that’s what. Now get in.”

You swallowed whatever retort you had because he wasn’t lying, and as much as you shouldn’t a part of you felt relieved to see a familiar face after that incident. You slipped in the front seat and slammed the door behind you, putting your seatbelt on and looking straight ahead.

Ran got the order from Takeomi to take Senju home first and so he began driving towards the Akashi household. Senju was dead to the world in the backseat, drooling partially on the seat as the fatigue from running finally hit.The two of you sat in silence the entire ride, and Ran exited the car to put Senju inside once they arrived. He locked the door behind him and re-entered the car to see you facing the opposite way, staring out the window.

No other words were said as he dropped you back at your house, and you were surprised you both said nothing to each other the entire time. After sitting in silence outside your house for a while, Ran finally broke the silence.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Ran scolded. “What made you think coming to an underground club was a good fucking idea?”

“Oh sorry, I was just playing the role of the dumb desperate slut that can’t keep her legs closed. Sorry if I gave you a fright.”

“Listen to me,” he said sharply, making you snap your mouth shut. “You could’ve died tonight if we weren’t here tonight you know that? That place you went to, that’s not for girls like you. Not for girls like Senju either. I don’t know what fucking possessed you to be acting this fucking recklessly, but I just hope you know what you experienced tonight was a wake up call. You aren’t built for this goddamn lifestyle, so stop trying to act like you are.”

“...you’re right. I’m sorry, Ran.�� You looked down at your lap when the tears started to drop from your eyes. “Tonight was so scary, I genuinely don’t know what would’ve happened if you weren’t there.”

Ran sighed and you kept sniffling as you heard his door open before slamming shut. You watched him round the car and open it on your end. “W-what are you—”

He carried you out of the car, your legs wrapping around his waist as he kicked the door closed behind him, walking up to your front door. He set you down on the ground and held his hand out. “Keys.”

You swallowed and reached inside your purse, pulling them out and into his hand. He unlocked your front door and once again carried you inside, locking the door behind you. He led you upstairs to your bedroom and set you down on your bed.

You watched in confusion as he walked over to your chest of drawers and began searching for your pyjamas. Once in hand, he tossed them next to you on the bed, and then walked into your ensuite bathroom. You heard him turn the shower on.

“Get changed and come in here,” he said from the bathroom.

You stripped out from your dress and entered the bathroom, not even bothering to cover yourself in his presence, nothing he hasn’t seen before anyway. He was in the midst of taking his shirt off when you stepped into the shower, the warm water running down your body as you waited for him to join you.

You stared at your feet when he grabbed your soap, placing some on his hand before lavashing your body with soap, rubbing them along your arms and sides.

“What are you doing Ran?” you finally asked as he bent down to wash your legs.

“What I should’ve done months ago.” His tone left no space for a remark from you, so you stayed silent and let him do what he had to you. Once you were washed clean, he turned the shower off and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and wrapped it around your body. “Go and get changed.”

“You need a towel too. I’ll go get one.” You quickly towelled yourself dry before stepping out, returning with an unused towel from your storage. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

You entered your bedroom and got changed into the clothes he picked out for you, then handed him some clothes of his you kept when he used to sleep over all those months ago. You sat on the bed and listened to him change.

“Are you going to sleep over?” you asked, looking up at him.

“You want me to?”

You nodded slowly, getting into bed. He followed you, giving you some space as he laid down beside you. He had his back facing you, turned away from you and you frowned at the lack of attention.

“...Ran?” you tested, seeing if he was asleep or not.

“What?”

“Why don’t you want me?” you whispered, remembering the last time you were in your bed together.

“Because I don’t deserve you,” he responded, voice flat and devoid of any emotion.

“Huh?” you asked, confused.

He turned around and looked at you, your eyes glossy with fresh tears. “I uh. I spoke to my mom a few months ago.” Your eyes widened, knowing the estranged relationship he has with her. Why didn’t he tell you this?

“I spoke to her and she uh, gave me a fucking reality check.”

“What did she say?” You shifted closer, close enough that you could see and finally notice the eyebags under his eyes, like he hasn’t had a good night sleep in time, which was strange for Ran as he savours sleep more than anything else in the world.

“A lot,” he sighed exhaustedly, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “Said I was a lot like my old man. That was I was emotionally stunted, sadistic, and a downright shitty person.” His chuckle was so emotionless, you almost reached out and hugged him, but stayed still as he wasn’t finished talking. “Worst thing was she’s right. I can’t savour relationships for my fucking life and when I actually felt something for the first damn time, I fucked things up and ruined it. Nobody else did that. I did. I’m responsible for that shit. I don’t wanna bring you down and you deserve better than me, whether you wanna admit that shit or not.”

He took a moment and you were unsure if you should respond or not. When you were about to, he continued.

“She told me I’d ruin your life if I pursed you. Told me I was being fucking selfish. Can you believe that shit? And you know what, I fucking believed her. I thought I would do that, that’s why I pushed you away. I wanted you all to myself which is why I continued sleeping with you, which was wrong of me I know, but you seemed happy which is why I didn’t think much of it. Then you had to go fuck with my goddamn head and tell me you wanted me too.”

“...sorry,” you whispered, feeling the breath sweep out from your lungs.

“It’s not your fault, dummy. It’s mine. I—In that moment I should’ve been selfish. I know I should’ve, and every fucking day I regret not doing that shit. But as usual I fucked things up again, then you were gone. I thought we could still be friends so I could at least see you again, but nope. You distanced yourself from me.”

Another tear fell from your eyes, wetting your pillow the longer you heard him talk. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologising. You did the right thing. Keeping you as a friend would’ve been selfish of me. You clearly distanced yourself because you wanted to get over me, but I wanted you all for myself and wanted you in my life at all times, even if that wasn’t what you wanted. Once again, proving my ma right. I’m fucking selfish. Then that stupid party happened and just seeing you with Manjiro made me want to lose my shit. The fact that I wasn’t able to have you because as a guy living this type of lifestyle, it would be considered selfish. But yet Mikey was? How come he was allowed to be selfish and I wasn’t?”

“It’s not selfish Ran,” you finally got a word in. “I didn’t even like Mikey like that. We were just drunk and horny. I never dated him. In fact, I hadn’t dated anyone since I was with you. Nobody else made me feel the way you made me feel and it was selfish of me to want you when you didn’t want me back at that time. We’re allowed to be selfish Ran. Don’t let that stop you from getting what you want.”

Ran’s eyes were wide as he listened to you talk. When you finished, he shook his head. “My level of selfish and yours aren’t the same. In my world, if you’re vulnerable it can get you killed, or put in a bad situation where you have to take a live, or have yours taken. You don’t need to be involved in that. That’s why I can’t be selfish.”

“But—”

“No. Buts. Go find a nice accountant to date or whatever. You don’t need me tying your life down.”

You frowned. “I don’t want an accountant though.”

“Why not? You always said you wanted to marry rich.”

You shifted closer, flush against his. “I never said it had to be good money though.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek.

He looked down at you. “You’re fucking crazy,” he said with a light laugh, and you were happy you were able to break the ice.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulder, pulling him closer till your noses touched. “You love it though.”

“Damn right I do.”

#—tr </3 #ran x reader #haitani ran x reader #ran haitani x reader #tokyorev x reader #tokrev #tokrev x reader #haitani ran smut #ran smut #tokrev smut

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ocinstar · 3 months ago

Text

Cat nap

Peter parker x fem!reader

Summary: after a long mission, you end up falling asleep on the shoulder of a certain spider boy.

Cw: blurb, fluff

A/n: I've been struggling with such bad writers block, so here's a blurb i managed to write. (Sorry if its not the best 😭)

Wc: 616

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Peter and I groaned in unison as we sat down on the jet. We sat there in complete silence, both our bodies aching after the 2 hour long mission we had just had. As the jet rose off the ground and took off, I felt my eyes grow tired.

"I never wanna stand again." I leaned back against the wall and blew the strand of hair that had fallen on my face away. All I got from peter in response was a weak groan of agreement. He leaned back with a huff, rolling his head to look at me.

"Do you think Mr. Stark will let me nap on his couch?" I turned my head to him.

"If he doesn't I'll put fart spray in his helmet." He gave me a tired chuckle. His loopy smile, tired eyes and messed up hair almost made me forget the aching pain across my whole body. Peter had a talent for making me feel better, or making me forget what there was to feel better about.

We both turn our heads forward, falling into a comfortable silence. The heat radiating from peter onto my arm and the quiet hum of the jet had my eyes feeling heavy. I found myself struggling to keep my head from tilting, slowly falling towards peter. I fought to stay awake, but soon enough my eyes closed and sleep overtook me.

~~~

I let out a surprise gasp as i felt something hit my shoulder. I glanced over, feeling my heart start to race upon seeing a sleeping y/n. Her face was serine, calm breathing and a few strands of hair tickled her cheeks.

I felt my face heat up, turning a light shade of pink. I could hardly believe this was reality, that she was really asleep on my shoulder. My shoulder! The girl of my dreams, my long term crush, was now peacefully sleeping on me. I know she didn't mean to, that it was an accident, but yet that didn't stop the nervous smile creep up on my face.

I did my beat to stay perfectly still, doing my best not to wake her. She shifted her head slightly, causing more hair to fall on her face. Her nose twitched, insinuating the hairs were tickling her. I cautiously moved my hand to move from her face and tuck it behind her ear. She hummed lightly, a sound that made me weirdly happy.

I didn't move a muscle as she continued to nap peacefully on my shoulder. She stayed there for the entire ride home. Bucky and sam took notice of my situation and naturally teased me about it, making jokes and jabs for the other half of the ride.

It pained me when we landed, since that meant i had to wake her up. I contemplated not waking her, staying on the jet till she woke up on her own. But i assumed she'd want to sleep in her comfortable bed rather then my hard shoulder. So I called to her softly and shook my shoulder lightly. I watched as her eyes fluttered open, her gorgeous eyes now revealed.

"Hey there sleeping beauty." I joked softly. She looked ul at me, her eyes still hooded and half asleep. She gave me a tired, loopy smile and sat up.

"Um, sorry for passing out on you." Her cheeks darkened, an embarrassing tint linger on them.

"It's ok, you needed some sleep."

"Well, thanks." We both stared at each other awkwardly, neither of us knowing what to to next.

"Do you wanna watch a movie or something?" She asked, looking away. I nodded and we both stood, walking off to enjoy our night.

#peter parker #marvel #peter parker x reader #blurb #spiderman #one shot #tom holland #spiderman x reader #fem reader

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slvtforsimon · 11 months ago

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Spicy Book

Synopsis- The boys reactions to you reading a spicy book.

Warnings - NSFW.

Word Count - 2.3k.

{Caffeinate Me}

SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY isn’t necessarily interested in the books that you read, or at least he thinks he wouldn’t be: he assumes you just read cheesy romance novels and that wasn't his cup of tea at all. He comes home from deployment to find you curled on the sofa, book open to a page you must have been reading before you had fallen asleep. How sweet: you were trying to wait up for him. Simon picks up the book you were reading, placing your bookmark in between the pages before the word ‘cunt’ caught his attention. His eyes widen slightly underneath the mask as he reads the words written on the page aloud, waking you up in the process. “Si,” you whisper, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“What’re you readin’ this for?” His gruff voice asked, thrusting the book your way. You couldn’t help the blush that rose to your cheeks. “Couldn't wait until I got home, hmm?”

“It’s just a book,” you grumbled softly, sliding off the sofa and attempting the reach for the book. Simon grins underneath his mask and holds it high above his head and completely out of your reach.

“Puttin’ you to sleep, was it?” He asks, cooing at you and tilting his head. You mumbled something under your breath as you let your arms flop to your sides, knowing you would be unable to get the book from your large boyfriend. “I would never put you to sleep, bunny.”

You’re about to yawn and say something witty in response when Simon pulls the mask up just above his lips, bending down to catch yours in a passionate kiss, his arms sneak around your waist and pull you close to his large frame. A gasp of surprise leaves your lips and you feel arousal swell within your core as Simon’s hands grope your breasts eagerly. “Si,” you whimper.

“Wanna reenact some of that filth you were reading?” He asks, eyebrow raised. You nodded, a giggle leaving your lips as you grabbed his hand and led him to your shared room. Simon’s eyes scanned the pages of the book, reading the smut as you undressed yourself, laying down on the bed and spreading your legs wide for him. Simon was eager to please, not even bothering to remove his mask as he fucks you roughly. You made a note to read more smutty books when he was due to come back from deployment if it got him this excited.

KÖNIG loves reading with you, doesn't seem to matter what genre it is. You’re reading something particularly smutty when he asks why you’re not reading it with him. “I don’t think you’d be interested in this,” you say, closing the cover to the book and looking up at your boyfriend.

He’s without his mask, eyes boring down at you as he looms over the sofa. “Why not, Liebe?”

You wriggle uncomfortably in your seat: both from his intense stare and the arousal bubbling in your gut. “Just don’t think you would,” you reply, biting your bottom lip.

“Are you hiding something from me, Liebe?” He asks, voice stern and serious.

“H-Hiding something from you?” You ask, voice stuttering slightly. König just nods, watching as you chew on the skin of your lips nervously. “I would never hide something from you, you know that.”

“Then you won’t mind if I just…” he mumbles, taking the book out of your lap and opening it up to the page you had bookmarked. “Ja?”

“König,” you warn, watching as his eyes flick over the words on the page, his mouth hanging open at the pure filth he was reading.

“Liebe…” He growls, looking at you, face filled with a serious expression. “You really think I wouldn’t want to read this with you?” You shrug lightly, feeling the sofa dip slightly as he sits down next to you. König put a hand on your thigh, squeezing tightly as he felt his cock hardening in his trousers as he thought back to your book. “Want me to spit in your mouth too, Schätzen?”

“You’d really do that?” You ask him with wide eyes. You find yourself rubbing your thighs together in a desperate attempt to gain some friction on your throbbing clit. König nods at you in response, his hand trailing further towards your clothed cunt. “Please,” you let out a gasp. Within the blink of an eye your large boyfriend had scooped you up off the sofa and marched into the bedroom, throwing you effortlessly onto the bed with a silent thud. You would definitely be inviting him to read smut with you more often after he was through with you.

JOHNNY ‘SOAP’ MACTAVISH is like König in the sense that he loves to read with you but unlike König, you knew Johnny would love your smutty books. You were currently running a finger over your bookcase, looking at the different books you could read together. ��This one’s particularly smutty,” you grins, pulling out a paperback from between rows and rows of hardbacks, turning to look at Johnny.

“Great,” he grins back, settling down onto the sofa and holding his arms out to you.

You read the back of the book before nodding, sitting down comfortably next to Johnny and opening the book to the first page: the dedication. You knew what was coming already, but Johnny was not prepared for the smuttiness this book included. You were on page three when the main character had already engaged in sexual activity, getting fucked by some stranger in an alleyway outside of a club. Johnny shuffled slightly as his eyes trailed the words, mouthing the words as he read them. After a few more pages, he looked at you, seeing a deadpan expression on your face. Were you not getting turned on by reading this? You look back at him, feeling his eyes on your form, before smiling at you. “You okay Johnny?” You ask, watching as he bit his lip.

“This not doing anything to you, lass?” He asks back, eyes trailing down your body.

“I never said that,” you reply, smile still placed firmly on your lips.

“Oh?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you teasingly. He lets his hand fall from the book and to your clothed chest, playing with your tits immediately and earning a moan from you in response. “How about we put the fuckin’ book down?” He growls, lips immediately attaching to yours.

You let out a squeak in response but wrap your arms around his neck pulling his body on to yours. It didn’t take Johnny long before he was ripping your clothes off of you and throwing them to the floor. He was slicking his cock against your folds eagerly and had you moaning his name over and over again already. Well, it was nice to know that smutty books got him as worked up as they did you.

JOHN PRICE is like Ghost in the fact that he doesn’t know the type of books you read. He sees you smirking to yourself at the words on the page and always makes a mental note to ask what it is you're smiling at, but he always forgets. It’s only when you’re in bed reading one night that he finally asks. You’re giggling like a child and kicking your legs under the covers slightly. “What is it?” John asks, rolling over to see you closing your book immediately.

“Just this book,” you say, motioning towards the now closed hardback.

“What’s it about?” He asks. Sitting up, he takes the book out of your hand and reads the blurb. “Romance novel, huh?”

“Guess you could say that,” you mumble back to him, praying to whatever Gods were out there that he didn’t open the book to the page you were on. Your eyes widened as he did, flicking through the book and playing with the cover absentmindedly.

“This isn’t romance,” John replied, wincing at the erotica in front of him. “This is the complete opposite of romance. This is just porn Y/N.”

“And?” You ask him, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Why do you need this when you have me?” He asks teasingly, thumb stroking your bare thigh gingerly.

“Sometimes you’re not here,” you counter.

“I am right now,” he whispers back huskily, fingers dipping underneath the damp fabric of your underwear and stroking at your throbbing clit. “Fuck Y/N, you’re dripping.”

“Are you going to fuck me or am I going to have to keep reading?” You snap at him, taking your book back.

“I’ll fuck you nice and good sweetheart,” John smirked, lips trailing down your neck and sucking at the sensitive flesh of your neck. “I promise.”

You arch your back as he rolls on top of you, bunching your nightgown up against your hips and roughly tugging your underwear to the side. He makes you cum on his tongue twice before he finally fucks you, roughly too. It was almost as if the part of the book he had read had worked him up too. It was definitely the best sex you had ever had with anybody.

PHILLIP GRAVES acts like he doesn’t know the type of books you read, but in reality whenever you’re not around and your book is out, he’s flicking through the pages to see what you’re so hooked on. You come back from the bathroom one time to see Phillip’s eyebrows furrowing at the page. Your own eyes widen as you see his fingers tracing the words on the page before he notices you skulking towards him. “Hmm,” he mused, chuckling as he closes the book and throws it onto a single-seater. “This is a bit raunchy for you, don’t you think?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask Phillip, scoffing a little bit at him.

“Sex with a gun?” He asks, narrowing his eyes. “That’s not you, pet.”

“What if it is and I just haven’t told you?” You ask, stepping towards him.

Raising his eyebrow at you, a chuckle left his throat. “Oh? You been keeping your desires from me, sweetheart?”

Phillip wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close before pressing his lips to your right ear. “Yeah,” you breathe out softly, trying to suppress moans as he nips at your lobe.

“Never hide anything from me sweetheart,” Phillip growled. He looks at the book on the chair and rolls his eyes before biting down at your earlobe harshly. “You hear me, hmm?” You nod softly at his words, blushing furiously as Phillip’s hand trails up your body to play with your clothed nipples, causing them to pucker between the fabric of your bra. “Are you that much of a slut that you read about getting fucked too?”

“Yes,” you whisper, nodding your head lightly as your boyfriend continues to trail his lips down to your neck.

Phillip points at the floor. “On your fuckin’ knees.” You do as he says, sinking down onto the cold, wooden flooring of your apartment. It’s then that he pulls his cock out of his trousers and slaps it harshly across your face forcing you to drool slightly. He fucks your face roughly, almost as if he was punishing you for reading smutty books in front of him, cumming down your throat with a growl. You thought that would be it, that your boyfriend would have had his fill, but no. He grasps your hair roughly in his hand and drags you off the floor and onto the sofa. “Stop squrimin’ baby. It’ll hurt otherwise.” You nod and stop moving, allowing him to fuck you deeply. Next time you read smut in front of him, he won’t be so kind as to let you cum until he does.

KYLE ‘GAZ’ GARRICK doesn’t mind that you read smut. That, and he’s always there to offer a hand if a scene gets you particularly worked up. “Something wrong princess?” He asks as he watches you wriggle in your seat across the room.

“Just this scene,” you reply, mumbling and motioning to your book.

“Need some help?” He offers, grinning devilishly before he stands up and makes his way over to you.

“Kyle,” you whimper softly as he takes the book from your hand and throws it across the room for you to find later.

“Tell me about the scene,” he mumbles, hand stroking your hair gently as you look up at him through your lashes.

“It was a shower sex scene,” you explain, closing the book and shuffling comfortably against Kyle. “It was steamy, hot and rough.”

“You like it rough don’t you poppet?” Kyle grins at you, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “How about we go and have rough shower sex hmm?” His voice is practically purring.

You feel the wetness collecting between your thighs, causing them to become sticky with your slick. “Really?” You ask softly, eyes widening. You and Kyle have had sex many times, but you’d never had sex in the shower before.

“Yeah, come with me poppet,” he smiles softly at you and takes your hand gently, dragging you into the bathroom and turning on the shower. It took a few moments, but eventually the bathroom was filled with steam as Kyle tugged your clothes off and threw them onto the landing to be put in the washing machine later. Droplets of sweat fell from your forehead as Kyle got between your legs, licking a stripe up your slit and looking at you through his lashes. He pushed you into the shower before slamming into you, not even giving you a second to adjust to his thick length. Your moans were louder than the droplets of water shooting from the shower and if you weren’t being fucked dumb right now, you’d be embarrassed. Shower sex with Kyle was definitely something you wanted to do more of after tonight, and the way he made you cum so effortlessly as he pressed you against the cool tiles of the shower has you dizzy from just thinking about it.

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anticanonsposts · 6 months ago

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Hii

I have an idea and it's kind of silly but I'll ask anyway because I love your writing

But you could do a Konig domestic where he passes out for some reason (not a battle wound or anything) and reader take care of him and then he's SO clingy afterwards

Tks 🤍

omg tysm!!! also i appreciate the requests so please keep making them!!! (i live off of the validation i get on here)

also i have some more stuff in the drafts that i wanna write, and i love the trend thats been going around about nerd!konig and i rly want to contribute so stay tuned!!!

cw: none

König had such a big day. His girlfriend y/n had been working tirelessly for the past couple weeks at her new job. She was definitely more stressed out than normal and König felt so bad. So he decided to run multiple errands that day (Friday) before she got home for the weekend. First he went grocery shopping, a smaller store and Costco to get some essentials. Then he came home and cleaned their apartment from top to bottom, because he knew it wasn’t her favorite and it would be so nice for her to come home after a long week. When he was at the store he also made sure to pick up her favorite snacks, drinks, and ingredients for dinner. By the time he was all done he fell onto the couch exhausted. Flicking his wrist up he saw that it was 4:30 which meant that in a couple hours y/n would be home. He felt pretty satisfied with himself, but also very tired. As he was thinking about getting up to shower and wait for her to get home, the grips of sleep clasped over his eyes and he fell asleep :/.

Some time later, y/n opens the front door to her and König’s shared apartment and walks in, ready to just relax this weekend. Immediately she notices how clean everything is. After putting her bag down she goes over to the refrigerator, knowing there wouldn't be much in it since they needed to go grocery shopping. To her lovely surprise whens he swung open the door she saw all of her favorites. This makes her connect the dots in her mind, König must have done all of this while she was at work today, how sweet.

“He’ll be getting something nice later” she mutters to herself, smiling as she walks away toward the bedroom. But she quickly stops when she looks over to see Konig, absolutely passed out on the couch.

Carefully pitter pattering over to him, she pauses and lovingly gazes down at him. His mouth slightly agape, a small snore coming from him. Although he looks precious sleeping on the couch, she knew that if he stayed like that, he would wake up with the worst back pain ever. So gently she started to sit him up, and led him half asleep to their bedroom. König would have absolutely no recollection of this when he woke up, thinking he had either moved himself to the bed or that he had fallen asleep on the bed by accident.

Once in bed, y/n gently arranged pillows and squishmallows (shameless self insert <3) around König’s body to make him as cozy as possible. Once satisfied she started to strip so that she could go shower.

About ten minutes later, König gently woke up to a slight steam in the room, and the smell of strawberry and rose from y/n’s soaps. He stirred more, bringing his hands to his eyes to rub them awake. Then, with a sudden jolt, he sat up, feeling panicked.

How could he let himself fall asleep?? He was supposed to finish setting up the perfect, relaxing evening for y/n. But no, his sleepy ass just had to ‘rest his eyes’ for a second.

But before his thoughts could spiral too much, he hears the shower being turned off. So, quietly he meanders to the bathroom door, slipping off his shirt, hoping to join her in the shower. Giving the door a few soft taps so as not to spook y/n. He’s met with the door swinging open and a beaming (naked) y/n, her body freshly moisturized, hair tied up since she washed it the day before, and in the middle of her skin care routine.

“Hey baby! I noticed everything in the kitchen, and I really appreciate it.” she says, eyes shining with nothing but love. It is returned by König’s eyes, practically with hearts in them. Nothing made him happier than doing things for her, other than being with her.

Wordlessly, he steps closer to her, pulling her body close to him by the small of her back and shoulder. He knows from past experience to not touch her face while she is doing her skin care, (he has been reprimanded before). Bending over slightly, he presses his lips to hers taking a breath in as he does so. Pulling away, he sits himself on the closed lid of their toilet that of course has a fuzzy pink cover on it.

Now taking a moment to scan his eyes over her body. Not quite in a hungry way, but more so admirable. Taking a few moments to appreciate every plush curve, every supple, plump part of her body. She was too perfect, she looked like a renaissance painting, something that an artist created when they were tasked with painting beauty itself.

Broken out of his haze, y/n says, “Can I do your skincare?”

“Yes of course.” he responds, giddy inside. Whenever she offered to use her products on him, he was always super happy. It meant that she would be looking at his face, and giving him small, gentle touches. He had never been with someone like this. His past was mostly hook ups, a couple ‘relationships’ here and there but nothing this intimate. Having someone’s gentle hands glide over your face over and over again as truly more intimate and sensual than any sex he had ever had. Now, he had no idea what products she was using on him, she could be painting his face purple for all he knew, if it weren’t for the mirror. But this was part of the trust he liked about this activity. Knowing that she was sharing her products that she spent her money on, that were clearly good enough for her beautiful skin, and she was sharing them for his scarred, damaged skin.

Once she started putting eye cream on him, König took his large arms and wrapped them around her body, pressing his bare chest to her naked body. Minutes passed as she finished the routine, and all König could focus on were how pretty her eyes looked when she focused on something. As well as how their bodies moved opposite each other with their breaths.

Y/n, smoothing out the last moisturizer onto her boyfriend’s face, letting each of her hands rest on either side of his face, palms pressed against his cheeks, fingertips gently clasping onto his face. His face has its share of scares, but is warmer and plumper now that he has been out of the military for a while. She appreciates everything about this man, his tenderness, his patience, and of course how obsessed with her he is. Then breaking her own rules after skin care, she starts pressing soft kisses along his cheeks and jaw, then resting her forehead against his when she was done.

This man’s eyes welled up with tears. He loved how soft she was with him, how kindly she treated him. His mind started to wonder as he started giving her small half blinks, completely enamored with his girlfriend.

“König?” y/n says softly, it was about the third time she called his name. Bringing him out of his stupor. “I’m gonna fix my hair really quick then we can cuddle ok?” she says raising her eye brows slightly. Earning a small nod from König, she figured he would leave and go wait for her on their bed. But instead, he slightly loosens his grip and allows her to stand up. Facing the mirror again, y/n starts to fix her hair from the various clips she used to clip up her curls for her shower. König, still in the bathroom, chose to stand right behind y/n. Completely behind her, pressing his front against her back, bracing his arms on either side of her body.

He can be pretty clingy sometimes, but this was surprising, even for him. Nonetheless, y/n doesn’t mind and finishes with her hair before turning her body. Signaling to König that she was leaving. He holds onto her left hand as she basically leads him to the bed. Quickly breaking from his grasp, she goes to her closet and puts on one of König’s shirts, and a pair of undies before climbing onto the bed and pulling König along with her.

He grabs the tv remote and switches it on, telling her to put on whatever she wants. Then he settles himself in between her legs, now that she’s lying on her back. And nuzzles his face into her chest, wrapping his big ass arms around her middle and sighs contently. She reciprocates by running her fingers through his hair which just brings him past cloud nine.

Y/n switches on some tv show that she has been binging recently and König soon falls asleep against her chest, feeling completely at peace.

notes:

I know this isn’t exactly what the prompt says?? I rly just wanted to write sm where König does a bunch of little things for the reader

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drunkenkissesatdusk · 5 months ago

Text

MATCHING BRACELET

pairings — oscar piastri x reader

warnings — none

summary — you love making bracelets, so it was easy to come up with the genius idea of making you and your boyfriend matching bracelets.

notes — this made me wanna make a version for five 😰 also i’ve read every yuki thing on this app guys please put out more 😞🤬 also woah no way it’s short?? i have such small motivation 😞 btw, working on requests!! expect soon maybe

━━━━━━━ YOU HAD A TALENT FOR MAKING bracelets. whether it be on a bracelet wheel, beaded, or a knot bracelet, you loved making them. more specifically, you loved making them for others.

your boyfriend knew that better than anyone else. it wasn’t a surprise that you’d fallen into a steady habit of making bracelets for him before he left.

his entire jewelry collection was either fan made or made by you, and he definitely wasn’t complaining — it always gave him something to talk about in interviews.

“can you make me one with green and blue?” Oscar asked late one night, his phone held in his hands, your face on the screen.

you looked up from your bracelet wheel, smiling and nodding. you had of course (read his mind,) already known he would want one. what he didn’t know, was the second part of your super totally secret plan.

that night, after he’d fallen asleep on the call, you had begun creating two bracelets. they both had hearts, but one had a green background and the other had a blue background, the same with the heart colors.

now all you needed to do was wait for him to come home, and you could surprise him.

he came home two days later, not only was it good since he’d just won, but because you also missed him an insane amount. he mentioned how he would be on a break for a little, and that made you happy.

originally, he came home late at night, finding you asleep in your shared bed already. he didn’t hesitate to take a shower and join you in bed afterwards, your body curling into his like muscle memory.

it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep either, relaxing into your comforting embrace and eventually he was sound asleep.

you guys slept until the sunlight creeped through the curtains, basking you both in a comfortable warmth that lasted as you slowly adjusted to the morning.

neither of you, by any means, had the plan to wake up and instantly do something. you cherished these mornings like nothing else, curled up to your boyfriend with the sun casting a warm temperature all over.

“‘morning.” he groggily muttered, wrapping his arms tighter around you, as if to mold the two of you together. you smiled into his chest, breathing him in. you’d missed him.

“morning.” you muttered, looking up at him. you shared a sweet and soft kiss. it was peaceful, there was no rush to spend every second together, because you currently were.

“i have a surprise.” you smiled wider, rolling over slightly and grabbing the two bracelets.

“you made two?” he asked.

“no, Osc, one for me and one for you.” you showed him the initials on the end of them both, and handed him one. he smiled, kissing your head. you both agreed to wear them later.

“now we can match. matching bracelets. i’ll never take it off.” he muttered, yawning.

“what about racing?” you scooted closer to him, closing your eyes.

“i’ll do the paperwork.” he muttered.

no surprise the two of you fell asleep again, waking up later that morning and spending another hour in bed.

your day started at 11:30ish that morning, and had officially began after you both helped each other out the bracelets on.

masterlist — reminder that asks / requests are open!!

#ceciljameswork #fluff #formula 1 #formula one imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula one #formula racing #oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #mclaren

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starlightandfairies · 9 months ago

Note

Ok ok I really love you! That's the last request hahaha I don't wanna annoy you ❤️ I had this somehow cute idea where you've fallen in love with him but he doesn't know and one time you get a little drunk with the girls, later deciding to grab a taxi to the Mikaelson house. Klaus is the one letting you in but Elijah already felt your presence and tries to keep you safe around Klaus, or as you start playing with their swords and stuff. Klaus watches with amusement at his brother taking care of a human girl and makes a comment like "better keep her before I do", and that wakes something in Elijah that he takes you to his room, just to keep you safe. You end up cuddled on top of him, admitting your love to him before falling asleep. He also realizes that he has feelings for you, but he decides to tell you properly in the morning when you wake up 😊😙

Description: A drunken reader leads to playful chaos between the Mikaelson brothers and feelings being revealed.

Warnings: she/her pronouns, drunkness, fluff, swearing

*Requests are open, please send through as many requests as you want, check my character list and requesting rules.*

Thank you so again for requesting! No! You're not annoying me! I'm really enjoying getting requests so don't feel bad! I hope you also enjoy this one!

Key: Y/N = Your Name, POV = Point of view

Word Count: 1,156

First Person's POV

Girls' night out was amazing, I haven't had a night like this in ages, away from all the drama and finally able to just relax with the girls and just be us. I knew I was getting tipsy, I could feel my giggles becoming more and more prominent than normal. The girls were going home, so I decided to head towards the Mikaelson house, I stood on the street hailing a taxi and stumbled into the vehicle once it arrived. I asked to be taken to the address, the walk to the porch of the Mikaelson resident seemed like an incredible challenge, I'm sure that to an outsider I just looked like a fawn learning to walk but I felt as if I was climbing Mount Everest.

I giggled to myself as I fell against the door, I sucked in a breath, trying to pull myself together as I knocked waiting for someone to answer. I was surprised when it was Niklaus, I waved almost childishly, smiling brightly at the Hybrid who clearly seemed amused by my current state.

In all honesty, I have no clue how I ended up sword-fighting with Niklaus, however, somehow this is where we ended up. Sword fighting in the parlour. I highly recommend it, however, do take care. I grinned brightly seeing Elijah walking forward with his usual look of concern plastered on his face, however, once he was at my side he smiled.

"Good evening, Y/n, I didn't realise you'd be joining us."

"Spur of the moment type thing." I turned my attention back to Niklaus, continuing our little sword fight, I jumped as Elijah used his speed to appear in front of me, I grinned excitedly but quickly pouted as he took the sword off of me.

"How about instead you sit with me, and tell me all about your night?" The pout faded away, I nodded in agreement, sitting on the sofa with him and instantly began rambling on about every little detail that went on tonight. I'm sure I shared details I wouldn't typically share in normal conversation, my filter was non-existent and oh, how I know that if I could watch myself right I would wish for it badly.

"Am I okay to take my shoes off?" I questioned glancing down to the hells that were now becoming painful and unwanted. Elijah nodded, though, after watching my struggle he lightly took my hands and proceeded to continue to charm me with his gorgeous smile that drew me in the first time I saw him.

"May I help you?" I nodded, frustrated with my inability to undo the damn straps on my shoes, Elijah kindly took my shoes off for me and rested them to the side. The vampire stared at me for a good minute, assessing my needs and whatever else that was needed to be assessed.

"I'll be right back, I'll get you some water." I threw my arms around him, giggling happily, thanking him and plopped back into the couch. I waited patiently for both vampires to return, I fiddled with my hands, staring at everything in the room and running my finger over my lips making odd sounds just for the sake of it.

Elijah's POV

I began pouring some water, and getting some things prepared for Y/n knowing that in the morning the hangover would come, I wanted her to be okay and wanted her to be safe. So I was quite glad that Niklaus chose to follow instead of causing more havoc with Y/n.

"You know, brother, you better sweep her up before I do." His smirk and words struck a chord. He knew of my feelings, Niklaus knew that I would do anything for her and knew that he would follow through on his words. I made my way back to the living room, stopping in my tracks seeing her laying upside down on the couch, he head on the floor and her legs dangling over the backrest of the sofa.

I bit back the smile dying to show, I sat beside her, smiling as she waved happily and awkwardly twisted and turned trying to get back into an upright position. I took her hands, smiling as she rested her head on my shoulder and that gorgeous smile just permanetly stuck on her lips.

"Come with me, will you, please?" Y/n nodded, taking my hand and following me to my room. I handed her the glass of water, watching as she plopped onto my bed finishing the glass of water within a gulp and began curling up underneath the blankets.

'Would you lay with me, please? I couldn't refuse, I nodded and kicked off my shoes and rested besides her. I wrapped my arms around her as she began to lay upon me, her eyes were fluttering open and shut her words escaping in a mumble.

"I love you, Elijah. I really love you. Like a lot. Super a lot." Before I could even deny anything, I could feel her swiftly fall asleep, I didn't want to disturb her, I didn't want this moment to end. I knew that in this moment I wanted to confess my feelings for her, so I thought it would be best to do so in the morning.

First Person's POV

As the light shined into the room, I knew my headache would be a bitch to deal with, I pushed myself up into a sitting positon in the boat. I stretched briefly, jumping slightly to see Elijah walking into the room with a glass of water and a packet of painkillers.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you." I whispered, sipping the water and taling the painkillers. Elijah sat on the bed besides me, I rested my head on his shoulder and began sharing my apology.

"I'm so sorry, was I a complete mess?"

"No, not at all."

"You're a liar." I whispered.

"You were just really giggly and silly. You told me you loved me- I don't know how much of that was true..."

"That was true, I meant that." I confirmed, seeing there was no point in denying the fact that I loved him. Elijah sat in silence for a good moment, I could feeel my heart halt for a second fearing that his reaction cold be poor and that he would react in a way that ruin our friendship.

"I love you too." He whispered, his eyes focused on me, I glanced to him surprised and shocked about the outcome of the confession. I smiled pushing myself up and grabbed ahold of his face. Looking to see if the noble vampire was lying to me, he grabbed my hands, his look gentle and comforting. I knew just then that it wasn't a lie and that this was all true.

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wileys-russo · 1 year ago

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Hi! Idk if you’re taking requests, but maybe a sequel to ‘headache’ with Alessia, where this time reader is the one with the headache?

part one headache 2.0 II a.russo

alarm bells had sung out in alessia's head from the very first moment she'd woken up this morning, having fallen asleep with you tucked up beside her she was surprised to find the bed empty.

sitting up and rubbing her face tiredly she'd blinked the sleep from her eyes and checked the other bed, maybe you'd wanted some space.

but no, that one was also empty which further peaked her suspicion.

"babe? are you here?" she called out, frown deepening when she didn't receive a response at first. then after a few beats of silence pass she heard what sounded like the faintest of hums from the bathroom.

quickly kicking off the duvet she tied her hair up and out of her face, padding toward the open bathroom door, heart falling into her stomach at the sight of you laid down on the floor with a towel over your face.

"baby?" she was knelt beside you in an instant, gently peeling off the wet towel as you blinked a few times, wincing at the harsh white light of the bathroom and groaning quietly. "what's happened? are you hurt? sick? did you pass out? throw up?" alessia helped you to sit up, checking all over you as you softly pushed her away.

"i'm fine less." you brushed off her concerns with a sigh that didn't pass as okay. "well i just found you asleep on the bathroom floor, so something is up pretty girl. talk to me!" alessia worried, still fussing over you as you gently pushed away her hands, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"i just have a bit of a headache and i thought the cold tiles and a wet towel might help." you admitted, eyes closed as alessia reached up to flick off the bathroom light. "oh my love." the blonde's face softened, quietly murmuring that the floor was hardly clean and helping you up to your feet and back to bed.

"how bad is it one to ten? don't lie please." she all but whispered, squatted down as you sat on the edge of the bed, still pinching the bridge of your nose hoping it might relieve some pressure. "a six? seven maybe? it was worse before but it keeps going up and down, i woke up around four i think." you mumbled quietly.

"hey why didn't you wake me?" alessia frowned, thumb gently carressing your cheek. "didn't wanna bother you." you grumbled quietly, the obvious strain in your voice causing her heart to break a little further.

"my beautiful girl you are never a bother, we've spoken about this before." alessia assured you with another frown, kissing the crown of your head as you nodded and mumbled a near inaudible apology.

"i'm gonna go talk to sarina babe you cannot train today." alessia decided for you seeing the obvious wince of pain flash across your face once again.

"i'll be fine less! please. we're only in the gym today and i can handle that, i just need some water and some food and a tablet." you argued, alessia biting her tongue knowing just how stubborn you could be, especially when it came to national camps.

"fine. but i'm still telling her you've got a headache so she keeps an eye on it!" your girlfriend warned as you nodded, also not having the energy to go back and forth. "i can go down and bring you up some food baby? give you an extra hour or two of rest." her tone softened again as she looked at you sympathetically.

"no no it's okay. can you get me a bottle of water though please?" you requested softly, a cold bottle from the fridge in your hand within seconds, a sigh of relief leaving your mouth as you pressed it against your closed eyes.

whilst you did alessia raced around the room, drawing the curtains and trying to make the room as dark as possible, swearing quietly as she stubbed her toe on the end of the bed, biting down on her bottom lip to stop her from yelling out she took a few deep breaths.

"come here and lay down baby, we still have some time before breakfast." alessia moved to sit up against the headrest of the bed, tapping the space between her legs as you managed to shuffle over. laying down your head rested in her lap and her fingers carded through your hair.

"is this okay?" she asked softly with a frown, bending down to mumble the words against your forehead, leaving a lingering kiss on the warm skin as you nodded wordlessly, melting into her tender touch.

"i love you lessi." you whispered out as the blonde swooned, ducking down again to this time press a sweet kiss to your lips, whispering those same three words right back.

"maybe this wasn't the best idea." alessia mumbled, herself wincing at the sudden change of volume as the two of you entered the dining hall she couldn't imagine how it would feel for you. "it's fine." you dismissed with a small sigh, tucking yourself more into her side.

"what do you feel like you can stomach babe?" the blonde asked quietly, pressing a tender kiss to the side of your head, her arm draped protectively over your shoulder as you cuddled into her side.

"whatever you're having, maybe some eggs though please." you whispered, alessia nodding and ordering the two of you eggs the way she knew you liked, grabbing some toast and fruit for the pair of you as well.

"good morning lovebirds!" alessia winced as mary appeared beside her, throwing her own arm over your shoulder as the striker was quick to shove her off. "oi! feeling a bit possessive are we less?" the goalkeeper teased, earning herself a withering glare.

"she's got a headache mary and you're as loud as a foghorn. shut up or go away!" alessia warned sternly, smiling in thanks to the chef as she grabbed your shared tray.

"jesus alright! no need to bite my head off." mary rolled her eyes, staying behind to grab her own food as alessia guided the two of you to an empty table on the opposite side of the room, as far away from everyone as the two of you could get.

"i can feed myself lessi my head hurts not my hands." you cracked a smile as the blonde attempted to offer you a forkful of eggs, picking up your own cutlery.

"just trying to take care of you is all baby." alessia kissed your cheek sweetly, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence as you ate, your body still tucked securely into her side.

but of course that peace didn't last.

"oi ya left me on read this morning kid, not appreciated!" alessia's eyes nearly bugged out of her head as lucy teasingly smacked the back of your head, taking a seat with her breakfast and missing the pain which flickered across your face.

"lucy!" alessia seethed, fussing over you as you mumbled you were fine, gently prying away her hands.

"what? she's not made of fine china less she hits me about all the time." the older girl rolled her eyes unknowingly. "she's got a fucking headache and you just smacked her right where it hurts!" alessia growled protectively, lucy's face paling as she paused mid mouthful.

"shit! sorry kid." the northerner winced apologetically as you waved her off wordlessly, the pain starting to set in behind your eyes now from the harsh light of the hall, training your gaze down to the table instead.

"good moorning england!" alessia winced now as ella, grace and georgia joined the three of you, ella screaming at the top of her lungs as she dropped herself down across from you, grace and georgia chattering away.

"what no good mornin back? where's ya manners gone then!" grace teased as she greeted you and you remained silent, pulling you into a headlock as alessia was on her feet within seconds, yanking the younger girl off who paled at the sight of the scowl on her face.

"i was jokin round with her less honest!" the blonde apologised with her hands in the air, wide eyed and terrified of the striker who suddenly sent a mean glare to the entire table, stood protectively behind you.

"whats in your shorts this morning then less? why do you look like somebody pissed in your cereal." ella sent her a toothy grin, lucy stamping on her foot and shaking her head as the mancunian frowned in confusion. "what?"

"she's got a headache would all of you please shut up and keep your hands off of her and to yourself!" alessia warned firmly, dropping back into her seat and tugging you tighter into her side, arm again wrapped securely around your shoulders.

"a headache? aw poor baby!" ella teased, lucy sighing with a wince as even georgia shook her head to signal ella to lay off.

"tooney would you like to get through today being able to talk? because i'll personally shove my hand in your mouth and tie your tongue in a knot if it means you shut up!" the blonde threatened seriously, rendering her best friend speechless.

"lessi it's fine love, eat your breakfast please." you murmured knocking your knee against her as she fixed the girls with one final glare, kissing your cheek and going back to eating, an awkward silence settling around the table.

"so less would you prefer we call you nurse russo or doctor russo?" "right thats it come here tooney!"

#alessia russo x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #alessia russo #woso blurbs #engwnt #woso

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whorekneecentral · 1 year ago

Text

Come Home

Dominik Szoboszlai x Fem!Reader

Warnings: separated for the holidays, staying up late, waking up your partner for a selfish needs, phone sex, dialogue heavy, masturbation (self - fem and male), mutual orgasm, some scandalous things that on both ends, dom!reader for a second there, lots of pet names.

Word Count: 1,573

Author's Note: okay this is my first full fic for dom, I had only written like 2 blurbs or him prior so hopefully it's okay <3

merry smutmas series

The two of you are separated over the holidays and you’re missing each other a little too much to keep this going.

London was rather cold this time of the year, not quite as cold as Germany, but still cold.

In your boyfriend's recent move to Liverpool, you had joined him, which meant a new apartment, a new city and a new job. Your family was originally from London, so it wasn't much of a difference that you had moved back but Dominik's family was not.

Your boyfriend have gone home to Hungary to see his family for the holidays, and while you wish you had been able to join him, you were stuck doing last-minute work as everyone else had booked the holidays off and you were one of the last hires - automatic grounds for you having to stay in doing the grunt work.

It wasn't so bad seeing that the time difference between Hungary and London was only an hour. Dom had always been an early sleeper, so when you got home nearing midnight and you finally settled into bed at some point after that.

You couldn't help but text him anyways.

To Dom: hi my love

It was 2am for you and you couldn’t sleep but you figured Dom would be sleeping. Hence your surprise when he answered.

From Dom: hi baby

To Dom: you’re awake? Shocking.

From Dom: barely, I heard the phone buzz. are you okay?

To Dom: yeah, just couldn’t sleep.

It takes him a minute to answer, you figured he might have fallen asleep. You send another message, it’s selfish when you know the noise will wake up - he had always been a light sleeper - but you missed him.

To Dom: I miss you.

From Dom: I miss you more.

To Dom: that’s cheesy. don’t one up me, dom.

From Dom: only you’d think that.

To Dom: can I call you? Just for a minute? I wanna hear your voice.

From Dom: of course babe

The phone rings quietly, resting on the pillow next to your ear as you wait for your boyfriend to pick up. You hear the click of the line, "hi love," he whispers, the sleep evident in his voice.

You feel a bit bad for waking him up but you were but a woman and selfish one at that.

"Hi Dom," you whisper back, "I miss you."

"I miss you too, darling."

You sighed, your hand stretched over the empty half of the bed - his half of the bed. "It's hard to sleep without you, I'm so used to you suffocating me."

It was no secret that Dom was affectionate, even in his sleep. The man clung to your side and at first, you hated it and his furnace like body but you had gotten used to it after a few days. As much as you complained, you found it hard to sleep without him now.

Dominik smiles, a soft chuckle slipping past his lips. "I wish I could be there too but I doubt you'd be sleeping if I was there, my love."

"Yeah?" You find yourself smiling, Dom had no idea what he was opening up by saying that. "What would we be doing instead?"

"Well," he whispers, it sounds like he's shifting on his end. "Perhaps what you had on would end up on the floor.. or maybe my hands would slip under it, touching everywhere you want me too."

"And where would that be?"

Dom hums, taking a moment to think. "Your tits, or maybe I'd drag a finger down your stomach to your hips, biting that sensitive little spot by your upper thigh? Maybe I'll skip all of that and bury my face in your cunt, what do you think?"

He can hear the way your breath hitches, the man smiles to himself.

You clear your throat, "y-yeah.. that sounds like a good plan."

"Which part, darling?"

"Uh-"

"Use your words, princess. C'mon."

"All of it," you whispered, the man smiling. Dom glances down at the scene before his waist; his hand wrapped around his cock, imagining all the filthy things he could be doing to you if only you were there.

"Dom?" You called out to him, "you still there?"

He lets out a breath, nodding. "Still here babe."

"You got quiet for a minute there. Thought you fell asleep on me."

"Oh no, I'm still here, darling."

Dominik is quiet, his hand moving up and down his cock slowly as he reimagines what he could be doing to you. You find yourself in the same situation; imagining what your boyfriend was doing on the other end of the line, your hand slipping down the front of your panties.

“Is that why you called?” He asks you softly, his voice pulling you back to reality. “Mhm, missed your pretty face,” you say and Dom smiles.

Even when you're horny, you're still as charming as the day you met him.

“I think you miss more than my face, my love.”

You play dumb, “what do you mean?” And it’s almost like you can see the cocky smile on his face.

“I think you miss me, y/n. My touch, my hands, my lips, my taste.. my-”

“Yeah,” you cut him off with a ragged breath. “Everything about you.” Your words cause him to smile to himself.

You rubbed slow circles over your clit. “I was thinking about you,” you tell him, “missing the way your fingers stretch me out, make me feel so full.”

“Really?” He asks a little too eagerly, mentally kicking himself for sounding so desperate but 3 weeks without you is a long time.

“Really, baby. Mine don’t feel as good as yours do.”

Dominik groans, “you can’t tell me that.”

You bite back a smile, and you’re quiet for a moment before you speak. “Why not? Not enough to get you to touch yourself ? Or did you already start?”

“You’re horrible,” he huffs, earning a laugh.

“Oh come on Dom, you’re no fun.” You smile when you hear the movement of his hand on his side. “What are you doing?” You ask him.

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“You can’t answer a question with a question, Dominik. I know you know better than that.”

He groans, irritated that he’s been on the phone for the last 15 minutes, you’ve been spinning him in circles and he has yet to cum. “Either you help me or I hang up, sweetheart.” He tells you, the pet name a dig at you.

You love to tease him, it was your favourite pastime honestly. “How can I help you if I don’t know what I'm supposed to help you with?”

“Fuck- y/n, come on. It’s not funny. I can’t stop thinking about you.” He rambles out in one breath.

“About me? How sweet.” You chuckle, “get your hand wet, baby. I know you didn’t.”

He hums, moving his hand to spit on it before wrapping it around his cock again.

You hear the satisfied sigh that leaves his mouth, “that’s better,” you tell him, your own fingers moving a little faster. Your boyfriend is quiet, his hand moving up and down, he can hear the soft whimpers coming from your side of the line, the slightly wet noise filling the silence in between.

He musters up the energy to speak, “what are you doing?”

“Exactly what you'd be doing if you were here.” You tell him, panties pulled to the side and your own two fingers buried in your pussy. He huffs a breath, “fuck- god I wish I was home.”

“You’ll be home soon.”

“Not soon enough.”

“I miss you,” you tell him, starting your teasing again. “I miss waking up beside you, miss your touch, your arms around me, your mouth, your fingers, your cock.”

Dominik's brown eyes close, imagining how pretty you looked laid there; legs spread, fingers in you. He could sit there and watch you all day if you let him.

“Dom,” you sigh, your fingers curling up. “Yeah?” He answers.

“Feels so fucking good.”

“I wish I was there,” he admits, hand still moving but a bit faster this time. “Me too,” you hum, eyes closed as your other hand reaches down to rub on your clit.

Both you and Dom were on the edge of orgasm, the tightening knot in your stomach. “Dominik, god, fuck, please.” You ramble out, “yeah me too, baby.”

Head tossed back into the pillows, eyes fluttering shut as you feel yourself slip over the edge. Your fingers are moving but you barely register the physical feeling of it. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, along with a string of please, yes and all the explicits under the sun. Dominik follows a moment after you; his name coming from you, in that context, imagining how pretty you must look was enough for him. The warm liquid all over his hand and his lower stomach.

The line goes quiet, Dom breaks the silence as he reaches over to grab a tissue. “Do you have work?”

You yawn, settling back into bed. “No, have the day off today and tomorrow."

“Good,” he smiles, wiping off his stomach and hand. He tosses the tissue in the trash before settling into bed again.

You whispered, feeling yourself get more tired as the seconds passed. “Going back to sleep?”

"Probably, stay with me?" He asks and you hum, turning over to settle on your side. "I love you, Dominik."

He whispers back; "I love you too, y/n."

---

taglist: @nosugarallspice @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16 @books-and-netflix-pls @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @trentsfav @trentsmyfave @noturbabe22

#merry smutmas xoxo #dominik szoboszlai #dominik szoboszlai x reader #dominik szoboszlai smut #football x reader #football smut #football x you #football x y/n

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milliesfishes · 6 months ago

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౨ৎ꣑ৎbilly and coryo on their girl's birthday౨ৎ꣑ৎ

According to Billy, you should be celebrated every day, but on your birthday he made it extra special.

The influx of love you received from him daily was already wonderful, but he was absolutely devoted on the day you were born.

On the first birthday since the two of you got together, he woke you up with gentle kisses, his stubble scratching slightly on your skin, and you felt his fingers running through your hair before you opened your eyes.

When you did, he was smiling brightly, face hazy with what could only be described as pure love. “There she is. Happy birthday, m’ love.” He leaned down and kissed you softly.

You smiled, reaching for him. Billy let himself be pulled down into you, sliding his arms under your body and tucking you so your head was under your chin. “Shouldn’t you be at work already?”

“Nah, took the day off,” he murmured, kissing your hair. “Wanna spend it with m’ girl. ‘S the best day ‘f the year after all.”

Giggling in delight, you snuggled into him although it was nearly impossible to get any closer. He chuckled at your excitement, smoothing your hair. “Watcha wanna do today? Nothin’s off the table, sweetheart. We can cuddle in bed all day if that’s what m’ baby wants.”

“Wanna cuddle for awhile,” you said, and he grinned, pressing a smattering of kisses to your cheeks. “I don’t care what we do as long as I’m with you.”

Billy took your face in his hands, kissing your nose and then your lips. “My baby,” he cooed, swaddling you back up in his arms. “Gonna give ya so much lovin’ today.”

And he absolutely did. After a long stretch of cuddles, Billy got up to make you breakfast. But you didn’t want to let go of him, intent on spending the little time you had with him on him.

So he found himself stirring the eggs on the stove one handed with you wrapped around him, perched on his hip like a baby. He kept one hand on your back to steady you the whole time. It was impressive the way he kept hold of you. Billy wasn’t about to drop you for anything.

He put the eggs on one plate because he knew you’d be sitting in his lap, and of course he wasn’t about to deny you that on your day.

You get dressed after breakfast and Billy took you to your favorite spot by the river, letting you relax against his chest and tucking wildflowers haphazardly into your hair like a birthday crown.

It was so rare that the two of you got to just rest like this, and be with each other without some other circumstance making things difficult. You cherished every second with him you were gifted.

As the sun was setting, Billy shifted unassumingly. You didn’t think anything of it until you felt something cold against your collarbone. Looking down, you saw the prettiest silver necklace resting there. He was fastening the chain, rough fingers struggling with the little clasp. Once he finished, he pulled your hair out of the loop, kissing your temple.

You touched the charm, a little heart, and turned in his arms. “It’s beautiful Billy, thank you.”

His grin broadened when he saw your happy smile. “Happy birthday, sweet girl.”

Reaching over, you gently removed his hat, searching his eyes as you leaned in for a gentle kiss, his nose smushed into your cheek. “I love you,” you murmured against his lips. “I love you, I don’t deserve you.”

“You’re my baby,” he pulled back for a second, his hand on your cheek. “Ya deserve the world.”

It was no secret that Coriolanus spoiled you beyond belief.

You were shocked and flattered by his generosity, by how much he cared that you had pretty things. You, his darling, his love. He wanted you to have everything.

So when your birthday came around, you were treated as a goddess.

Waking up, you were surprised to find his warm body still in bed, holding you nice and close just how you’d fallen asleep.

You sit up and look at him incredulously as he opens his eyes. “I thought you’d be at work.”

“I’m the President, darling,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep. “I can take a day off to celebrate your birthday with you.”

That made you smile. You smoothed back his messy blond hair, curly in its un-gelled state. “You already give me so much. What more could you possibly do for a day like this?”

He leaned in and kissed you softly, his fingers on your chin. When he pulled back, he grinned lazily. “So much, darling. So much more.”

Sitting up, he nodded lazily at the walk-in closet. “Take a look.”

Confused, you stood and threw back the covers, knowing he was getting a nice view of your backside covered by your pretty little nightdress.

When you opened the door you saw the prettiest red dress hanging there casually. Touching the fabric, you gasped, looking back at him. “Oh, Coryo!”

Coriolanus was already out of bed, shamelessly shirtless, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to your hair. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” you turned around and kissed him fully, your fingers on his cheeks. He smiled, smoothing your hair back.

“Why don’t you put that on-“ he nodded at the dress. “And come down for breakfast? I have a few things in store for the day.”

Smiling curiously, you tilted your head. “What does that mean?”

He merely patted your hip and walked away, presumably to his own bedroom to get dressed.

Arriving downstairs to breakfast, you found your plate of fruit, but no Coriolanus. There was a note next to your setting.

Darling,

You’ve got a few places to go today after you finish your breakfast. Our driver will take you, and I’ll see you shortly.

Love,

Coryo

Pressing the note to your chest, you sighed happily. You should have known he’d go overboard for your birthday; he always did when he felt like there was a reason to celebrate you, which in his opinion was fairly often.

The first place ended up being the high end salon near your home. The manicurist said she already knew what you were going to get, and when you saw that first swipe of red paint, you smiled. That was Coriolanus, through and through.

Afterward you were ushered to a jewelry store. Then a boutique. And then you were getting your hair done, sleek and shiny. At each place the employees had a set of things or instructions, all of which served to make you feel more beautiful.

The jewelry store presented you with a paid for set of diamonds. The boutique did the same with yet another red dress, and a set of crimson lingerie that made you blush when you looked into the box.

At the end of the day, you were dripping in luxury, feeling as beautiful as you ever had. It was so like him to do this- to want to make you feel lovely on your special day.

The driver took you to a restaurant you’d only been to once before, a nice one. He helped you out of the car, and you went inside, only a little surprised when you saw Coriolanus sitting at a table in the middle of a very empty restraunt.

“Darling,” he greeted, standing up and taking your hands. He leaned in and kissed you gently. “You’re beautiful. Let me see.”

He held up your hands so he could see your nails, looking pleased. Then he spun you once so he could see the whole dress, in its full glory. “Gorgeous. Absolutely stunning.”

“Thank you for doing all this for me,” you said shyly, holding him by the lapels of his suit jacket.

“For my sweetheart? Anything,” he affirmed, leading you to sit.

It was a lovely dinner. Not only was the food excellent, but Coriolanus was so doting and adoring toward you. Your heart fluttered the whole night, relishing in the way he looked at you.

When the check was paid, he stood, offering you a hand and leading you out to the car on his arm.

Getting in after you, he slid his arm around your waist and pulled you close, kissing you hungrily. “Happy birthday, my love.”

You sighed into the kiss, melting in his arms as his lips glided tantalizingly against yours. He pulled back for a moment, looking down at your legs. “There’s one thing I forgot to check.”

One of Coriolanus’ big hands slid up the slit of your skirt and dragged it up to rest against your belly, revealing the deep red panties you were wearing. He smirked, satisfied. “Good.”

Your dress looked prettier as it was falling off you and pooling around your feet. He hoisted your knees to hook at his hips and laid you down on the bed, lavishing you in attention. Hot, slow kisses all down your body, between your legs, on your thighs…everywhere.

Coriolanus spoiled you, to be sure, but it wasn’t just in gifts.

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newyearseve1979 · 24 days ago

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Cool Niece, Cooler Aunt

Or, Lilia and Alice spend some time together.

Content warnings, brief mentions of death and grief, allusions and mentions of malicious drug use. It’s pretty tame, generally

Lilia stared at the boiling teapot. The stove glowed gently under it, the sun lit up its shiny metal surface, but the water itself seemed unchangeable. If her stare bore into the kettle hard enough, the water would boil faster (or something like that.) “You could just use magic,” Alice said, leaning against the kitchen counter. Her hair was still messy from sleep and the orangish red streaks in her hair definitely needed re-done. She had an old Le Tigre band shirt on. Lilia vaguely remembered going to one of their concerts.

“It's the little routines that keep a girl together,” Lilia shrugged.

Alice nodded, smiling. She could appreciate the sentiment.

Lilia’s own robe was burnt orange and one of softest things she owned. Sun streamed through the window, lighting up the spacious kitchen. It was a far cry from her old apartment, Lilia knew, and she wouldn't have been able to afford it without the rest of the witches. After the road, after she’d fallen, she’d been stuck in a weird kind of Limbo. Alice had been there too, but that's all they could remember. Turns out the road had been made up so they didn't really die, even though Rio has still arrived to take them to that little inbetween world. Lilia didn't want to think too hard on that, because they’d gotten out when Jen completed her trial. What mattered was that she and her fuck ass coven (as described by Lilia herself) had bought a house together, roughly an hour’s drive out of East View, in the woods. It was close enough to other people for the working witches to keep up with their lives, and far enough away for Agatha to… what was she up to again? While the two waking witches assumed everyone else was asleep, Agatha had already gone out for a walk in the woods before the sun rose.

The teapot whistled, and Lilia took it off the stove. Alice had already set out two mugs and the honey pot. The house was quiet. Lilia and Alice were the only ones in the kitchen, and since it was a Sunday, no one had work. Not that there was much to do; Jennifer’s business was largely remote until she felt like returning to her shop, and Alice was still on the job hunt. Agatha was… well Lilia didn't need to touch that until she felt like it.

The quiet was interrupted by the music Alice had switched on. Bikini Kill, Lilia recognized it, Reject all America. “Good band,” she said, turning off the stove and mixing honey into her cup. Alice only looked slightly surprised. “I saw them live a few times.”

To Alice’s credit, she didn't let her jaw fall all the way down. “You Lilia? Really?”

Lilia smiled to herself. “Oh yeah,” she pointed at Alice’s shirt, “them too.”

“You’re kidding!”

“I’m not!” Lilia insisted, amused. She hugged her soft rope close, and sipped on her tea. Riot Grrrl had attracted plenty of witches in her area, and yeah, Lilia had been pretty into it. Alice shook her head, still smiling.

“I'm trying to picture you at a punk concert.”

Lilia rolled her eyes. She thought about a time when she’d straightened her hair and her old thrifted jacket. “Get me that leather jacket of yours, doll,” She smiled. Memories of stitching protection runes into the inside of her jacket came back to her. “I'll try it on and that’ll give you a pretty good picture.”

Alice gave Lilia a once over. Her robe was snug and secure, her curly hair was piled on her head, and an amulet hung from her neck. Lilia looked like a classy broadway star, not a Riot Grrrl fan. Still, she could almost picture it. Lilia with a shaggy haircut, leather jacket, and punk shirts, cursing out some moron. “Come on, don't tell me you think I'm too old,” Lilia huffed, half kidding.

Alice waved her off. “I’d sneak into concerts when I was younger. My um, well you know my mom died when I was thirteen? I wanna say that was the same time the movement was getting traction.”

Lilia nodded. “The years blended together for me after a bit. All my big losses happened -oh god- forever ago.” She finished her tea and put the cup in the sink. “How long did you keep up with it?”

Alice hummed, and hugged herself. “Till college. It kind of fell off a bit after I graduated you know? But freshman year was intense. I dated this girl who I thought was big into Team Dresch, so we’d gone to a few concerts. Turns out she’d been more into the story about my mom. That wasn't the whole reason we stopped going out though. But the movement had been this part of my life, in a massive way after mom died. She’d made sure music was always important to my life. I needed away from the magic shit, and it was a good place to be angry. I really needed to be angry; you know I stayed that way for a long time.

But after a few years, when I'd put in my old cd’s and records all I could think of was how… upset I was as a teenager. You know I didn’t deal with my grief until recently, so, I guess that’s something else. ” Lilia watched Alice, nodding at the right times. She definitely knew. She wasn't about to forget Alice’s trial on the road, or what she’d said later.

“Sad is better than angry.”

Alice’s head was tilted down, but Lilia saw her eyes getting misty. She moved over to Alice’s side of the kitchen. She put a hand on her shoulder. “I got back into it recently,” Alice added, "the music. It's way easier to find the old music on the internet, especially when Jen pays for my subscription.” Lilia knew what she meant; she was also on the plan.

“Well I don't know how to tell you this, but punk attracts all kinds of outcasts, witches included. Even if they tended to uplift white middle class girls over other groups.” Lilia patted Alice’s arm before stepping back again. “Trust me doll, you were where you needed to be.” The speaker had switched over to Dyke March by Le Tigre. Their singer was the same one from Bikini Kill. “I met her once,” Lilia mused, tapping on the speaker,“Kathleen Hanna.”

Alice wiped at her face. It was early enough that she hadn't put on her usual makeup yet. “Yeah? Do you think she remembers you?”

She chuckled. “No, probably not. But I know she’s touring right now with Bikini Kill again.”

“I saw that.”

Lilia didn't hesitate. “We should go see them. Tonight. They’ve got Eastview stadium for the week, and it's cheapest tonight.”

“Lilia Calderu is inviting me to a punk concert?”

“Lilia Calder is offended at this disbelief,” Lilia huffed, “you know twenty years ago I was getting more comments about my age when I was getting pins and patches than I bet your thirteen year old ass was. Compared to me, you’re practically a child. I should be asking if it's past your bedtime.”

Alice swatted Lilia’s arm. “You’ve been around Harkness too much.” Lilia shrugged. The pair made plans to go to a punk concert once the sun went down.

That evening, Lilia went through the boxes in her room that she still hadn't unpacked. “I know where it all is, there's no point in reorganizing!” She’d say, but it was really because part of her still wasn't certain the roommate situation would last. Either way, she found some dark, flowy clothes that were probably more Stevie Nicks than anything, but honestly, who was going to care. Lilia dug around for a few protection rings; the ones she always took, and the few extras she took to this kind of scene because she’d been around long enough to see some messed up shit.

A vision flashed to Lilia. Crowded room, packed venue. Sweaty bodies pushing her around. Someone yelling, Piss off Lilia! And harsh hands jerking her to the side. Too loud, too loud, too loud, so loud that it blurred her vision. She swayed. She dropped her drink; the mussels in her hand betrayed her. Was it the crowd or was it- no shit shit not again. When is this? Last time-

“Lilia!” Soft hands shook her gently, and Lilia put her own up in self defense, pushing back against a pink clad body. Soft hands held her in place as she pushed, letting Lilia have something to physically resist.. She found herself sitting, then, black skirts piling around her, grey curls falling in front of her face. Lilia was coming back to herself when Jen said her name again. “Hey? Kooky?” Lila looked around. She'd knocked over the box she’d been rifling through. Bobbles scattered around the floor, thrown about like whatever timeline was trying to speak to Lilia. Alice stood in the doorway. Lilia’s brow produced little beads of sweat as she tried to determine if she’d visited a vision or a memory. Jen nudged her again. “Lilia?”

Lilia shrugged Jen off. She rubbed her temple. “I just…”

“You went away for a minute,” Jen nodded. She tilted her head, with a rare Kale smile. “Anywhere good?” Definitely not.

Lilia chuckled dryly, using Jen to help her to her feet. “Somewhere loud.” She looked over at Alice. “You look… concert ready.” She nodded approvingly. Alice’s orange streaks had been re-dyed, with the help of Jen earlier that day. Her outfit was pretty close to what she wore the first time Lilia had met her. Only this time, it was a slightly different jacket with a list of different feminist punk bands painted onto the back. Her makeup was a bit bigger too. She tossed Lilia a pair of ear plugs.

“We’re good to head out in ten?”

“Give me twenty,” Lilia said. It wasn't a question. Alice nodded and went back downstairs. Jen smoothed out the shirt on Lilia’s shoulders. Then she went over and sat on Lilia’s bed. Lilia settled herself into a plush chair she’d picked up back in Vienna, right in front of her mirror.

“Where did you go this time?” Jen asked when Lilia didn't ask her to leave.

Lilia pursed her lips. “A concert.” She flexed her hands in front of her face. They did not fail her as she applied lipstick and mascara, or when she clasped talismans around her neck and wrists. They would not fail her again, and they hadn’t that night. It had been a close call, Lilia remembered, but that's all. She didn't tell Jen and Jen didn’t push. Oddly, she’d stopped pushing since the trial. But she had started watching Lilia. She’d stay in the same room a little longer, stay up a little later, all little things Lilia noticed, but wouldn't ask about yet. What right did she have to anyway, to tell her to leave. Not after she sent Jen down the road without her, and Lilia knew that.

Alice had the car running and music already playing. “What’s this?” Lilia asked as she slid into the passenger seat.

“Mommy Long-Legs,” Alice smiled. They pulled out of the wider part of the driveway and started down the road that wasn't necessarily a private road, but might as well have been because of how long it was, and the fact that there were only two houses on it, both perfectly crafted for woodland semi-isolation. As far as Lilia knew, their neighboring building was largely uninhabited. She’d never seen it though, as it was hidden so far back that the trees blended together into black before you could hope to see a house.

“What else do you listen to?” Alice asked, breaking Lilia from her thoughts.

Lilia hummed. “Jazz, older Italian songs, but seventies and eighties rock was a pretty good time for music too, I suppose. Stevie Nicks is wonderful.”

“Mom performed with her and Fleetwood Mac.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm. I was pretty young, but I remembered it being a huge deal.”

“I remember that,” Lilia reminisced, “that was a good show.”

They got themselves out of the woods and started driving along a series of fields. Houses slowly started showing up, becoming closer and more clustered the longer they drove. The lights of civilization began to shine down on them, and suddenly the road was a bit less empty. When they made it into Eastview, approaching the venue, Lilia could start to guess who was on their way to the concert. She smiled-

Fuck off Lilia! She’s pushed to her knees, or has she fallen on her own. Help! Who needed help! The picture is fuzzy. Wrong. It’s not as clear as it should be. She’s inebriated. No, she's… she’s…

Her body slumps down, and before she can catch herself, Lilia hits her head off the dashboard. She curses herself, looks at Alice who drives calmly, and sits back up in her seat. “Um,” Alice starts slowly. She turns into a parking spot and shuts off the music. “Are you… back?”

Lilia looks at Alice, searching. Who’s voice had told her to- “Say something,” Lilia said.

“Something? Lilia are you ok? Do I need to call Jen or…?”

Lilia’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t need a babysitter, baby. I’m fine.” But she wasn’t fine. Time was not linear and she was actively jumping around. She couldn't hold herself, couldn't find where she needed to be like she had on the road. She looked at Alice. She needed to ask for help. She needed her sisters for the craft.

“I dont…” Alice bit her lip, “I don’t know how to help you.”

“Well I'm sure that's really hard for you,” she snapped. She rubbed her temples. In the vision… she couldn't get a grip on reality. It was like something was infecting her.

“I’m not taking your shit old woman,” Alice snapped right back, not missing a beat. Lilia barked out a humorless laugh. She nodded approvingly. It confused Alice.

“You’re into punk, right doll? Right. So why the hell are you a cop?” She gave Alice a hard stare. Alice didn't flinch, but regarded Lilia with suspicion. “I’m not, ok, that sounded judgemental. It was.”

“I wanted-”

“To help people? That wasn't intuition, that's common sense. The Protection Witch wants to protect people. So why not get into security? And don't give me that mall security bullshit, that wasn't your choice.” Lilia had successfully deflected back onto Alice. For now. Divine Mother, she really was spending too much time around Agatha. That thought made her shiver, so she softened. “You could be anything, baby,” She reached over for Alice’s hands, “embrace it.”

“Oh fuck off Lilia,” Alice groaned, “fuck that. I’m glad you had your enlightenment moment on the road, but you’re not ok!You still haven't even told me what happened after I died, so unlike Jen, I still don't have a damn clue what's wrong with you! And that's fine! But how am I supposed to protect you?”

“Don't protect me then!” Lilia shouted, “Protect yourself, baby! I’m not senile, I don't-”

“Need a babysitter! I know! You’ve fucking said Lilia, youve fucking said.” Alice slammed her hand down on the horn of the parked car. A group of punk girls, in their early teens, late twenties, cheered. “You’re smart and you can take care of yourself because you've been doing it for centuries. You and everyone else in the house, ok, I've got it. No one taught me how to be a witch. I never made a habit of spending time with women literally centuries older than me.” Her eyes welled up with tears, even as her face contorted back to the familiar anger she’d lived with for so long.

Her mother holds her hand, showing her how to spread the tarot cards. How to read people like reading cards. She will see her mother’s death, and her mother may not see the truth in it. “Please Mama, please won't you listen? Let me help, let me help,” and then in the dark of the night after vision after vision-

“Just let me help you! Don't leave me alone!” Lilia cries out, her hands flying to her hair and pulling her curls out of place, like she’d done as a girl. She shakes as her lungs try to puncture themselves on her ribs, expanding against the shell of her body. She looks back to Alice, ashamed. “That wasn't,” she started, “that wasn't for you.”

Alice nodded. She had unbuckled her seatbelt and was sitting against the inside of the door, her feet pulled up to her knees. Her head was tilted on her arms like they had been at the campfire on the witches road. Alice wasnt smiling though, she was waiting. Lilia handed her a ring to fidget with.

“My mother,” Lilia confessed quietly, “well. I lost her too. I couldn't protect her.” Lilia glances at herself in the side mirror. Her hair had been pulled into disarray. Her makeup should just be wiped off at that point. “I do not want to talk about it. Jen knows. But I knew it would happen, and I couldn't stop it, and I was alone and no one wants to be around a woman who sees their deaths-” her voice cracked, “so I was run out of everywhere. I apologize if I don’t know how to fix you, doll-”

“So don't try to fix me,” Alice said. She started out firm, then paused. She reached over for Lilia’s hand. Lilia took it- hesitantly. “Don’t try to fix, try to help. Advise. Ok?”

Lilia nodded. She pulled the curls out of her face and readjusted the neck of her shirt., fixing her posture. “And you don't need to protect me… just, oh Divine mother, just, support me. Sometimes.”

Alice nodded. A silent agreement passed between them. They did not, in fact, hug it out. They didn't go to the concert, either. With a peace made between them, Lilia saw a worse future. Her abilities were not deteriorating, she was visiting a time where she was drugged. Roofied. After Alice would tell her to fuck off, again, the protection witch would be separated from her. Neither would reach for their powers in time, because they would both be incapacitated. So instead, they went to an old vinyl shop. They left with some Grateful Dead, Billy Joel, and Alice turned Lilia onto the Crane Wives.

The shop owner, an older man, didn't peg them as mother and daughter, like his assistant had asked Lilia. Of course, Lilia said no. The shop owner, who knew and sensed more than his young apprentice, immediately saw them as Cool Niece, Cooler Aunt.

Sisters of the craft. He charged them extra.

They had yet to really understand each other, but certainly, they were getting there.

#agatha all along #lilia calderu #alice wu gulliver #fanfic #writing #aaa marvel #agatha harkness

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gilbirda · 6 months ago

Text

Ouroboros

Sequel to "Another Harley Quinn"

Go to the first fic: "Deal"

After everything is said and done, it is no secret that Bruce doesn't approve of Jason's choice of partner. How far is he ready to go to reject her, and what are Jazz and Jason willing to give?

[Read on AO3][Read on FF]

---

She was running.

She was running and the streets were too dark, the shadows too long, the air too cold. She was running through a city she had come to know but was alien to her, a place she wanted to call home and yet she couldn’t call hers.

Jazz was running. Her chest hurt. Her feet hurt.

That’s when she saw it.

It was familiar, something that looked like home between the streets she didn’t belong in, and yet, it wasn’t home.

(Nothing was really home since Danny—)

She knew it. Jazz was sure. It was a ghost, she was positive, but a ghost she had never encountered before. It was bright, glowing in the dark streets, its light making its features difficult to discern. The body was more like a floating torn bed sheet than a human body.

It had a face.

It opened its mouth, jaw unhinged, and screamed.

***

Jazz woke up with a start, the only thing not letting her fall forwards and faceplant on the coffee table was a strong arm around her waist.

“Easy there, love.”

She looked up at Jason, blinking the sleep away. “Did I fall asleep? I’m sorry.”

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. She usually doesn't fall asleep like this, but lately…

“It’s okay,” Bruce set his cup on the table, “you must be tired after last night.”

Last night… Right, she had been up late taking down a drug operation at the docks. That Batman knew about it even if she did it alone wasn’t surprising. The slight judgemental glint in his eyes wasn’t a surprise either — she had killed the lieutenant after destroying the cargo.

It had been the third chance she had given him and that person decided to mock her for being soft, claiming that “a man would have pulled the trigger already”. If that wasn’t enough to kill him, the fact that his ex-girlfriend had filed for a restraining order for the second time, and had been dismissed by the police again, was a deal breaker for her.

Not that Bruce would care about things like that.

“She's been having weird dreams lately and wakes up really tired.”

Jason, as always, jumped to protect her. Maybe he was trying to remind Bruce that they were in this together, that it didn’t matter that she was taking over while he got his GED and started college. That if Bruce had a problem with her he had a problem with the two of them.

“I think she’s trying to tell me something,” Jazz sat straight, cracking her back. She shouldn’t have fallen asleep like that, now her back was going to be sore. “I mean Gotham.”

“Again?”

“Is the same dream over and over again, the same noise. I thought after Joker…” Jazz trailed off, remembering that encounter with the Spirit. She had been another person then. Another woman. Felt like long ago and yet like yesterday.

“Hm?”

Both ignored Bruce’s clear “hm” demanding her to elaborate. Right. They never explained what happened with the Joker.

“I think she is trying to warn me about something that’s coming.” Her mind went back to the screaming ghost, to the dark alleys. That wasn’t Gotham, even if it gave the illusion to be. “Something more in my, uh, expertise.”

“Well, that’s ominous,” Jason was deliberately only looking at her face, “and vague. Wanna go over it when we get home?”

Any thought was derailed when he lifted a hand to comb it through her hair. It felt nice. He was very warm.

“Sure.” She picked his hand and kissed the palm. “I’m going to check if Alfred needs help with dinner.”

Still ignoring Bruce, Jazz stood up and left what was going to be another interrogation.

***

“Elaborate.”

Jason watched her walk away, conflicted. She had been a bit distracted lately, spacing out more and more; and even if he was positive she was not actively hiding anything from him, he was sure something was going on with her.

The thought that not even she knew what was happening was not helping.

“Jason.”

He looked up at his father. “What?”

“Elaborate.”

Jason didn’t like that it was worded like an order. Or that Bruce used that tone with him, with Jazz. Honestly? He was fed up with Bruce’s behavior about his girlfriend. She said it was okay, that Bruce would eventually let it go, but Jason didn’t like that she had to endure that constant drilling because of—

No. It wasn’t because of him.

Jazz had been firm when she insisted it was never his fault. That if Bruce decided to be a dick about her it was not because of Jason.

But Jason knew his father better than her, he knew what made the man tick, what he was thinking with each gesture. Sure, Jazz had investigated Bruce Wayne, Batman, and everything about Gotham — but she hadn’t lived any of it.

What Bruce hated about Jazz is what he hated in Jason, the new Jason, and what he refused to accept. It didn’t take a genius to see that the man berated her for things Jason taught her or did with her. It was obvious at this point, after all these months, that Bruce just couldn't let go of the little boy that died.

Listen. If Jason had problems with Bruce, it was his problem, not Jazz’s. She was innocent.

“Bruce.” He cut whatever the other man was about to say. “You have to stop.”

This made him blink in surprise. Yeah right. As if he didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Stop what?”

“Don’t give me that crap. You know what I mean.”

They looked at each other in tense silence.

Bruce sighed, leaning back on the sofa, rubbing his face before looking elsewhere but him.

“I just —” he started, unsure of what he really wanted to say. Was he going to be honest, for once? “I don’t — There is something about her… I don’t like it.”

There it is.

I don't like her.

I don’t trust her.

Of course he doesn’t. That stupid control freak. Jazz was a bat trained individual that didn’t go through him or was approved by him. She had access to the Cave and to all their technology, just like Jason, just like Bruce promised they could.

But that wasn’t the problem. Jazz could be temporarily banned and put on trial phase until she passed all of Bruce’s tests and yet she would never be enough.

“We are a package deal, Bruce.”

The look the man gave him was equally annoyed and defeated. “I know.”

“She’s not a villain.” It hurt. How Bruce’s jaw muscle tensed like he wanted to say otherwise, it hurt. If he considered her a villain, he considered him a villain too. He was just too chicken to say it. “She’s my partner. She’s my other half.”

“I know.” He grumbled.

Bruce didn’t like her. He didn’t approve of her. He never would.

“Why do you hate her so much?” Jason swallowed the discomfort. He needed to know. He needed to understand if it was a stupid dream to think he could have both his family and his partner. If he had to put distance between them and Jazz, he had no doubt who he would choose to go with. “Why is she the villain and not me?”

Bruce looked at him like he grew another head. “That’s ridiculous. You are not a villain. I don’t agree with your methods, but—”

“But nothing! She’s just the same as me. I trained her! I brought her into this life! If there is someone you should distrust is me!” He stood up, angry at the argument.

Surprisingly enough, the older man was unfazed. He thought his words carefully, looking down at his clasped hands. After about a minute, he finally said.

“She killed her own parents.”

That was it? “What are you talking about? I was the one that did the actual killing.”

He still remembered it like it was yesterday. How he took his time, how he made it hurt. He let them know on whose orders he was doing that to them and why.

“She hired you to kill them,” Bruce shook his head, frowning, “is not the same.”

“What the fuck do you mean with ‘not the same’? Bruce, you weren’t there, you didn’t see what happened. They killed her brother.”

“It still doesn’t justify—”

“They tortured him, Bruce. Their own son. They deserved to die.”

Bruce blinked, eyes searching Jason’s face, like he was seeing him for the first time.

“They deserved to face justice. Not— Not whatever she asked you to do.”

She never asked him to torture them. Sure, she said ‘I want those two to suffer’, but she never specified how and what she wanted. She was angry and filled with rage, and she wanted to make them pay for what they did — but she didn’t ask him to break every bone in their bodies and keep them awake during the whole process.

It had been all him.

“That’s the thing, Bruce. She tried to seek justice, and the system failed her. If just—” Jason looked away, uncomfortable with sharing memories that weren’t his “ — If ‘Justice’ actually had helped her, her brother would still be alive. But she took too long with the longer route, and by the time she decided to fix it on her own, Danny was already gone. Torn apart by his own parents.”

“What she asked of you wasn’t justice either.”

“No.” He conceded. “She wanted vengeance.”

He remembered her dark eyes, so empty of any emotion except cold fury. It was easy to forget now that she smiled and regarded him with warmth, but not that long ago she had been an empty husk running on rage and rage alone.

“I still don’t understand… How?” At his questioning look, Bruce added: “We researched her, her family. There was no reason to believe they hurt either of their kids. Danny disappeared and run away and yes, it was suspicious as hell, but—”

“Are you listening to yourself? The investigation of Danny’s disappearance is a joke and obviously a cover up. Are you so dead set on making her the bad guy that you overlook something so simple?”

Bruce thought his words for a moment, maybe finally noticing how his rejection of his partner was affecting his own son. He was making that soft face he had every time he talked about how he messed up with Dick and how he could have done it better.

“A cover up by who?”

“What? The GIW, obviously.”

Did he not know?

Wait.

Bruce stood up, eyes wide. “The Ghost Investigation Ward?”

He doesn't know.

“Bruce?”

“They were supported by the GIW?”

He really doesn’t know.

“Bruce… they were the lead scientists of the GIW.”

Jason watched the pieces start to fit in Bruce’s mind, the whole story taking shape in his detective brain. Did he know about project P-001? About how Danny exactly died? About what they did to other ecto-entities?

“Did she know? Did she allow it?”

What was with Bruce and always assuming the worst? With a sigh, Jason gestured towards where the kitchen was, asking Bruce to walk with him. If what he needed to stop being hostile was answers, he would give them.

“About her parents working with the GIW? Yes. About the experiments? No.”

“And Danny—”

“Danny was taken away when she was away in college. Came back home to find her brother gone and her parents uncaring about his whereabouts.”

He truly didn’t like speaking for Jazz, but he also didn’t want her to relive all of this just because Bruce couldn’t let it go.

When Bruce didn’t ask another question, he continued. “She and Danny’s friends tried to get him back, but nothing worked. They were just kids against a whole shady fake government agency — they never stood a chance. They tried anyway.”

“They could have called the Justice League.”

Jason was already shaking his head before he finished talking. “And say what? ‘Evil organization that’s barely legal has kidnapped my brother’? Bruce, we both know that by the time a thorough investigation happened it would have been too late.”

“But we did investigate them. Sure, a lot of it was destroyed but the little we could find we completely tore down.”

He doesn’t know, he doesn’t know.

Jason took a deep breath as they arrived at the kitchen, smiling when he saw Jazz completely engrossed with her task of cutting the vegetables. She was smiling and chatting with Alfred about something he couldn’t hear from there, but she looked… good. At peace.

“There was an anonymous tip to the Justice League, yes?”

“How do you—”

Jason looked back at Bruce, not hiding his thoughts. The older man made the correct connections and the correct assumptions. Who destroyed the GIW bases, who killed all those people, who brought the Justice a lonely soul desperately needed.

“Bruce. She has suffered enough. Let it go.”

The other man was also watching Jazz cook; and as if she felt their gazes, she looked up at the pair. Jazz smiled, the emotion not quite getting to her eyes, and she waved with the hand that still had the knife.

Bruce’s mouth twisted a bit.

“I didn’t know.”

“You shouldn’t have to know. She’s what I want. That should have been enough.”

Jason didn’t imagine the pain in his father’s eyes when he looked back at him.

***

Tim glanced nervously at the woman quietly watching the horizon next to him.

What was Bruce thinking? Making him do patrol with her? Alone? What if she snapped and killed him?

“I know you are scared of me.”

He jumped at the mechanical voice, finding her smiling down at him. He wasn’t sure. With the mask in the way it was difficult to know.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

Yeah, right.

“Really. I don’t hurt children.”

“You shouldn’t kill people, period!” He snapped. “Sorry.” Tim muttered at his outburst. Murder girlfriend or not, he had manners and Alfred wouldn’t like it if he was rude to a guest.

Jasmine looked away, humming in thought, her eyes watching the shadows of the night. Did she see something special in them? Apparently she had some kind of enhancements due to her parents’ experimentation — something about contamination? — but no formal testing of her abilities had been done. Yet.

“Am I that scary?”

Tim almost missed the quiet question.

“It Isn't that — uh…” He tried to find the correct words. Scary? She was not scary per se. Her outfit was not made for intimidation, she looked pretty average with her dark pants, combat boots and black shirt. The most noticeable parts of her outfit were the full utility belt around her waist and the guns strapped to her thighs. And the red hair. But she was not scary. “I’ve seen scarier people.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” She turned to look at him.

Her eyes. He didn’t like her eyes.

They were an uncanny shade of blue that looked green under certain lights. Eyes that sometimes glowed Lazarus Pits green. Eyes that gave him goosebumps.

“Why do you want to know? You are the head of the Crime Underworld of Gotham, of course you are scary.” She found his words funny. “You don’t kill the Joker with kindness, either.”

She tilted her head, looking back at the city. “Yeah. You might be right.”

“Of course I’m right.” He scoffed, walking closer. She didn’t react to his proximity. “Did you really kill him, though?”

“B didn’t tell you?”

“He just said… He said he found him dead. That Hood and you sent him in a wild goose chase and it was all so he couldn’t stop you from killing him.”

“There you go, then.”

“He also said there were screams and that he couldn’t get in the room.” He looked at her profile, since she refused to look back at him. “We reviewed the cowl footage but it was all noise and snow.”

Jazz hummed.

Tim narrowed his eyes. “You know why, don’t you?”

She thought for a moment before answering. "I do."

"Well?"

She smiled. "Why would I tell you?"

Robin groaned in frustration, like he did every time she deflected his questions. Jazz was very private and didn't share any information that wasn't already guessed or known; and even in the case of the former, she usually smiles and let him ramble theories of what actually happened and never confirm or deny them.

Tim was still deciding if he hated her. Well. Hate was a big word.

Dislike.

Did he mind the murdering? Yeah, it was disturbing to know the woman smiling in front of him hired a hitman to massacre her own parents and then decided to become a crime lord. Just because.

But Jasmine was kind and patient and understanding, and she didn't bend even after how mean Bruce had been with her. And she loved Jason, really loved him, which made it difficult to reduce her to a mindless criminal.

"I'm curious." He finally admitted. "Truly. No suspicion, no investigation. I want to know."

"You are such a curious bug, huh."

Again she looked at him without really seeing him.

You remind me of him. You have the same spark. I hope it's never beaten out of you.

Tim wasn't stupid — he knew she was seeing her dead brother in him and it bothered him. It bothered him more than when Bruce called him 'Jason' those first months.

"I can talk to ghosts." She said out of the blue. Like it wasn't even that important. "The Spirit of Gotham asked me to kill the Joker."

Tim did a double take, surprised. "Why?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. For real. She just contacted me and told me to do it. So I did."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

There was more story to it, but Tim was going to count his blessings and let it slide for now.

Patrol progressed like normal without any surprises. Just minor crime, barely anything that required Bat intervention, but it was good to be seen around, especially with The Ghost at his side. The people loved Robin, and if they wanted to make them trust that The Ghost was not out there killing everyone, pairing her with Robin was the quickest route.

Was that why B did it? Had he turned a new leaf?

By the time they called off patrol for the day, Tim noticed Jazz being quieter than usual.

"What’s wrong?" He asked her.

Her eyes were hesitant when she looked at him. “Are… I mean, it is— uh…”

“Just spit it out.”

The Ghost was nervous. She shifted a little when they landed on a rooftop to talk.

“Everything okay at school?”

Tim did a double take, watching her like he was seeing her for the first time. What the heck? Was she for real? Asking about school, out of the blue like this? What was the point?

What was her angle?

“Why would I tell you?”

She chuckled. “I had that coming, huh?”

He laughed too, amused by her switch in behavior. It was relaxing to see her act like a human — Jazz was a quiet presence glued to Jason’s side, always watching with those sad eyes.

“School’s good, but boring.”

“Boring?”

“Too easy.” He scoffed. “Teachers don’t know what else to throw at me to make me shut up.”

She hummed. It felt good to not get the speech about school not being just about good grades and that he should be kinder to his teachers, that they were doing their best.

“Any friends?”

What was she doing? Was she trying to be his older sister, trying to fill a void left behind by her loss?

Danny was dead. She wouldn’t bring him back by adopting another kid.

Tim almost laughed, amused at the similarities between Bruce and Jasmine.

Before he could open his mouth to gently ask her to stop, she tensed, looking at a nearby rooftop.

“Robin.” She switched back to The Ghost, the ruthless crime lord. “Go home. Call Batman.”

“What—”

“Do it.”

Tim hesitated a second too long, the glint of a sword on the edge of his vision put him in fight mode. He blocked in time, his staff and his arms straining to withstand the impact of a sword that had been aimed to his neck.

He jumped back, closer to Jazz, watching as a group of ninjas quickly surrounded them.

“We have a situation,” he heard The Ghost’s voice coming from the comms and his ears at the same time. “Requesting back up.”

“En route.” Bruce’s voice was a relief. Even if Tim had been trained and he wasn’t alone, he was starting to get overwhelmed by the quick moving ninjas that were hellbent on killing them.

He didn’t recognize the uniforms and their motivations were unclear. No obvious target either, since they weren’t trying to crowd one of them specifically. The Ghost held her ground, dancing around the assailants with ease and practiced moves, some of them reminiscent of Dick and some of Jason, and he was grateful that she hadn’t whipped out the guns and started shooting at them.

Robin stepped back, staff ready, feinting to the left to do a sweep under the closest ninja, making them stumble enough to elbow them in the side of the neck, knocking them out.

One down, three more to go.

He focused on his own fight, watching them, expecting their moves, dodging the very sharp blades they were swinging in his direction. Tim knew he was fast and he learned even faster, something Bruce always praised him about, and he decided to prove he was worth the chance to be Robin as best he could do.

The second assassin made a mistake, one tiny misstep, and he used his grappling gun to tie their legs together, leaving them dangling from the edge of the roof.

Now that he was facing only two of them it was easier to keep up with the speed. His staff was very useful to keep them at a safe distance, and he used that advantage as best as he could, even if the ninjas understood that they were losing the upper hand.

They changed tactics, instead of going for the kill they were planning on tiring him out — when he blocked one he had to be watching the other and expecting their move, not having a second to breathe. He was starting to get light headed and his arms starting to hurt after blocking impact after impact, when he finally saw his chance with one of them.

He attacked fast, staff ready, doing a series of katas that were meant to confuse the opponent and end with a strong push to the chest. Tim even managed to knock the sword out of their hands. When he hit them on the head and the guy was down.

“Ha!” He allowed himself the shout of victory, turning around to face the other one—

Only to find wide eyes on a partially covered face, a choked scream escaping the trained assassin. Tim looked down to find the point of a sword right on his neck, barely digging in his skin. He continued looking down and saw rivers of blood coming down the assassin’s front from where another blade was piercing their chest.

The body hit the ground with a soft thump, leaving The Ghost standing, her face blank, her eyes glowing toxic green, her hands stained with blood.

Both turned to look when a new person arrived at the scene.

Batman didn’t look pleased.

***

Jazz was tired and needed a bath, but she couldn’t even think about going back home yet.

Jason. She needed him, she needed his comfort, but he wouldn’t be home until his fight with Bruce was over.

A fight about her.

She knew killing the assassin would have consequences. She could have simply reduced them, she could have pushed Tim away and gotten hit instead, she could have thrown a smoke bomb and given Tim enough time to run away.

But she killed, and it had been a deliberate choice. Bruce knew that, Tim knew that — even if he had tried to defend her a few times before being completely shut down — and Jason knew that.

She just couldn’t think about anything else the moment she saw the black silhouette approach the boy from behind. Tim was just that, a little kid roped into hero life, and she needed to protect him. She needed—

Jazz was not stupid. Tim wasn’t Danny, she didn’t have any right to be any kind of older sister to him. She had one chance at that and she lost it, she couldn’t just act like she deserved another.

The Ghost looked at the rising sun on the horizon, her ears ringing with the screams and threats Jason and Bruce had been throwing at each other by the time she quietly stepped out and left the Batcave. She doubted any of them noticed her leave, too engrossed in the moral question of taking a life and the what if’s and could have’s.

Jason looked distressed and unhappy, not just angry. She knew him, she knew he didn’t like to fight with Bruce like this.

It felt that was the only thing they did when she was near.

“Finally caught you alone,” a smooth feminine voice purred behind her.

Jazz turned, finding a dark skinned woman looking down at her, her long black hair flowing in the breeze. She was tall, and strong, her common-looking t-shirt and jeans not hiding the powerful stance of someone that knew she was in charge.

She didn’t miss the gun on her waist or the sword at her back.

“Talia.” She recognized her from the photos Jason showed her. She never thought they’d ever meet in person. “If you are looking for Jason he is busy at the moment.”

“I’m not looking for him.” Her deep green eyes were fixed on her, analyzing. “I wanted to have a chat with you.”

Jazz tensed. Knowing what she knew about Talia, that couldn’t be anything good.

“I wanted to make you an offer.”

She arched an eyebrow. “An offer?”

“Yes. I have been following you and I’ve seen what you can do. What Jason made of you.”

So Jay was right. Talia was watching. She really couldn’t let it go, huh.

“And?”

“I think we can benefit each other.”

This made her scoff. “What makes you think you can give me something I want?”

Danny was dead, he had been avenged. She didn’t need anything else.

Somehow, Talia found her response hilarious. She chuckled with that silky voice of hers and approached Jazz to watch the city besides her.

“This is not your world. This is not your place. You have been aimless since the death of your brother.”

Jazz didn’t give her the pleasure of seeing her react to her words. Talia was a snake that dealt with information, she taught Jason some of her tricks. She would know about Danny and the GIW and how she came to meet Jason, of course.

“I’m not aimless.” Jason’s smiling face came to her mind. He had given her a home when she thought she had nothing to come back to. “I have—”

“Jason. Yes.” Talia hummed. “But do you really?”

This made her tense. “What do you mean?”

Talia’s smile was pitiful when she turned to look at her, the rising sun painting half her face with warm colors.

“You are in the way of his happy ending, dear.”

Jazz blinked, her heart skipping a beat. She knew that, she knew that things were rocky with Jason’s family, but to hear it put bluntly like that…

“You can have him, sure, but you’d make him lose everything else. Everything he wants. Jason lost his edge when he met you, and since that day he has gotten as dependent on you as you are on him. He has been declawed and what he wants now is a happy family to come back to, something you cannot give him, but he is too blinded by love to see it.”

Jazz hated that it made sense, that Talia was wording her troubled thoughts like this. She knew Talia pulled stunts like this, manipulating people until she had you working for her, but it made so much sense.

“Let him be happy, let him get his father back. Get his family back. If you love him, truly love him, then let him get his happy ending.”

Jazz watched the sunrise without blinking until it hurt. Her eyes watered.

She swallowed the knot in her throat and asked: “And what do you want?” What was her angle? What did she gain by this?

She didn’t turn to look at Talia when she answered, knowing she would crumble the moment she saw her cunning eyes. “I can help you become better, become perfect. I’ve seen what you can become and I’m positive you could use those skills to make sure no one else gets hurt like your brother was hurt.”

“You are talking about becoming an assassin for you.”

Talia chuckled. “Not ‘for me’, dear. You’d be your own person, you could choose your own targets. All I’m offering is resources and training Jason can’t provide. And Bruce wouldn’t ever approve.”

Jazz didn’t answer and Talia didn’t push, both stayed quietly watching the sun climbing in the sky as the city woke up and started to pulse with life one more day. One more day where people would get hurt somewhere in the world, people she could help and yet she was in Gotham feeling like an intruder in someone else’s family, trying to play house.

Talia was making sense. She didn’t like it.

“I’ll think about it.”

***

When Jason came back to the apartment he shared with Jazz, he was ready to drop dead and nap for the rest of the day. He was completely spent, his mind frayed and reeling with the argument and following screaming match about Jazz and how Bruce didn’t like her.

He had been doing so well after the conversation they had, he had been trying, smiling more and including her in things and putting her on patrol with Timbo so people got used to seeing her fight crime with the Hope of Gotham.

She killed the assassin, true, but she had saved the kid’s life. Could she have done something else? Sure, of course, but it wasn’t like the assassins were playing games and letting many chances or going easy on them. If Jazz thought the best course of action was killing him, he trusted her.

Bruce didn’t. He kept going back to the recordings of Robin’s mask, marking places where she could have done better, where should have taken another route. It didn’t matter that the kid said he agreed the assassins were going for the kill or that it was his fault for being careless — Bruce was set on banning her from the Cave, from the Manor and from operating in the city altogether.

Jazz was nowhere to be seen at the Manor when Jason decided that arguing with Bruce was pointless and got on his bike and rode off without explaining more. He was tired. He needed his girlfriend.

Just as he thought, she was at the apartment, waiting. She was not in her usual chair reading or at the kitchen having her post patrol tea; but he found her on the bed still wearing her suit, sitting with her back against the headboard. She was looking at the opposite wall with unblinking eyes, brows furrowed.

“Darling?”

She blinked, turning to look at him with empty eyes. He never wanted to see her look at him like that again, he hated that the situation had made her this upset.

“Hi.” She smiled, but it was wrong. “How did it go?”

“Bruce’s pissed but I don’t give a shit. He can choke for all I care.” Jason huffed, sitting on his side of the bed to start on getting rid of the suit. “I know this isn’t over, but whatever. He’ll get over it.”

Jazz hummed softly, with her ‘I’m considering something that you wouldn’t like’ voice. He stopped unlacing his boots, turning to watch her. She looked… off. Not just upset, but genuinely like— like she was back to that empty shell that accepted his offer of coming to Gotham with him.

“Jason,” she started, “was this… a mistake?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I… If…,” she licked her lips, looking away from his eyes. “If I left, do you think Bruce would drop it?”

Jason felt like ice crystals started growing in his chest. She couldn’t mean…?

“I understand you love me, but I can’t pretend to understand the relationship you have with your father. All of… this — “ All of me, he knew she wanted to say “ — is putting a strain in that relationship that I don't want you to have.”

He felt like he couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t seriously be talking about breaking up. Not like this.

“I love you too, and—”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He had the urge to grab her by the shoulders and shake the stupidity out of her head. “Are you seriously thinking about breaking up with me over this?”

She shook her head. “Not just over this. I’m talking about everything else, too. You have been sweet and I love you with all my heart, but darling, this is tearing you apart.”

He couldn’t argue otherwise. He couldn’t deny he had been thinking about not coming back to the Manor and just say fuck it to the whole thing.

Jason was tired of arguing. He didn’t want to fight anymore. If he tried to argue with Jazz right there, right then, he would give up and let her leave without a fight.

“Can we— Can we please put a pin on this conversation?”

She was going to say something else, but closed her mouth, nodding. “Of course. I’ll… There is food in the kitchen. I’m going to shower first, if you don’t mind.”

It’s true that they didn’t bathe together all the time, but he really, really had been looking forward to her affection and, for once, her physical contact. It felt empty, watching her stand up and leave the room without looking back. Felt like an ending to their story, even if Jazz had agreed she would want to talk about this when both were in a better headspace.

This was not how he expected his day to end, how he wanted this to go. He wouldn’t let the best thing to ever happen to him to either leave him or regress to that broken woman he extended his hand to.

Jazz carefully avoided him after the shower, and she chose to sleep on the couch instead of the bed with him. Jason didn’t have enough energy in him to convince her to get into the bed.

When he woke she was still there, calming down his instinct that she just packed her stuff and left while he slept — Danny’s rocket model was still on her night table and the apartment smelled like freshly made coffee.

She was looking outside the window at the sun going down, a still steaming cup of coffee in her hands. Coffee, not tea.

“Hey.”

She turned to smile at him, eyes still haunted, deep bags under her eyes. Did she sleep at all? “Hey.” At least her smile was more normal.

“Feeling better?”

She shook her head, but approached him to kiss him on the cheek before sitting down on the kitchen table. “Wanna talk now?”

With a heavy sigh, Jason got his own cup of coffee and joined her at the table.

“Let’s talk.”

She nodded. “Talia came to see me.”

Jason choked on his coffee. “What?” He managed to say as he coughed out the liquid.

“She made me an offer.”

“You know her offers—”

“Hear me out.” She stopped him before he continued, lifting a hand to signal she wanted to talk. “I’m not going to accept. Talia’s motivations are not clear and I trust you when you say she is shady about her offers.” She tilted her head. “I also think that she is the one that sent those assassins to provoke me”

This made him sigh in relief. That did sound like Talia, and it was good that Jazz caught on that quickly. “Okay.”

“But she made a good point.”

“She told you to break up with me?”

Jazz hummed. “Something like that.”

“Well that’s stupid.” He scoffed. “That wouldn’t solve the problem.”

“And what’s ‘the problem’, then?” She arched an eyebrow, daring him to say otherwise.

“It doesn't matter if Bruce hates you. It doesn’t matter if you stay, or you leave or if we don’t see each other again.” He leaned in to take one of her hands and smiled when she didn’t move away, and even squeezed his hand. “Bruce’s beef with you is actually with the stuff I taught you, the stuff that’s a part of me I wanted to share with you. If he cannot stand you because of that then he is making the active choice to not see I am the same.”

Jazz’s eyes were fixed on their joined hands as she considered his words. She sipped her coffee without looking away.

“If the condition for him to love me is for you to go away then he doesn’t deserve me — and that has nothing to do with you personally.”

Seconds ticked by in the quiet kitchen.

He was firm about what he said and was completely ready to fight Bruce on that if it came to it. It was beyond if Jazz was a ‘bad influence’ or not, beyond trying to play perfect son for Bruce, beyond trying to make him see that they couldn’t go back to how they were before he died.

“Okay.” Jazz said, taking a deep breath. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Her smile was watery, her eyes shining with tears, but she looked less pale and less like she was about to crumble down.

“I love you.” She said. Neither commented on how shaky her voice was. She wanted him, he could see it in her eyes. It wasn’t because she thought he would need her, or because she thought that was what he wanted — she wanted to be with him.

“Love you too.” He stood up and walked around the table, extended a hand to touch her cheek. She leaned into the touch. “We’ll figure this out, but we have to do it together. I need my partner in crime.”

A few tears went down her cheeks as she nodded.

***

Jazz kept her distance from the Manor the following weeks and focused on things on the crime side of their lives. Jason had been taking on more tasks since they were doing patrol with Batman and Robin as well; but she was now going to focus completely on the Narrows and Crime Alley and let Jason take care of things with his father. He asked her to trust him and she trusted him. They were partners.

She was going back home thinking about her cup of tea and maybe convincing Jason to cuddle under a blanket and read together for a bit; when she saw it.

It was bright and just at the corner of her mind, and she understood she had to follow it.

Not one to question Gotham after all that happened, Jazz followed her gut instinct further and further away from their territory, across the bridge and deeper into the business district. There were some people walking around at night, better dressed people, that looked at her as she followed the faint signs of something other. She ignored them all, how men and women alike chose to get away from her as soon as she was in their sights.

She knew what the “nice” people of Gotham thought of her, it didn’t take a mind reader to understand that it took more time for these people to realize she was no Harley Quinn.

In any case, it was good that she found no resistance as she pursued the white form across the serpentine streets. She couldn’t shake the feeling she was being guided somewhere, but she still needed to investigate.

The chase ended in a deserted street that had an opening to an abandoned metro station — if her memory was correct, it was part of the first metro line in the city, and the route was adjusted after the city grew in another direction.

Jazz wasn’t looking at the art decó structure of the metro opening, though. Her eyes were fixed on the white form floating in the middle of the street.

It grew and grew, quietly and quickly taking a longer shape — a human shape. Legs, arms, torso and a head. It was so bright on a dark background that it hurt her sensitive eyes, but she kept looking at the humanoid shape, wondering what or who it was.

The white light started to dim around the body, a white sheet, torn and dirty, gently floated in an invisible wind, hiding the actual shape of the body. It’s face was still too bright.

“Hello?” Jazz asked, testing the waters with a step towards the ghost. Because it was a ghost, she was positive. “Do you need help?”

She never thought she would need to help another spirit, but if this lost soul needed assistance to find peace, she was the only person that could help.

It was also what Danny would have done.

The bright figure’s face was too intense to really see the features, but as she walked closer she could see short red hair floating around their face.

“I can help you. My name is Jazz.”

It was like she had said the magic words. The slight humming she didn’t realize she had been hearing stopped. The light stopped pulsing. The figure froze mid-air.

Two eyes opened in the creature’s face. Deep black eyes, full of hatred.

A mouth opened, impossibly wide open, in a way that a normal human could never be able to do.

It was a split second — just a tiny moment as the light in its face dimmed enough for her to clearly see the features — but she recognized that face.

The creature screamed a high pitched sound that blasted the windows of the buildings around them.

***

A ping on the phone and Bruce’s slight frown was the first sign that something was wrong.

“A rogue attack?”

The older man looked up from where he was tapping on the phone screen, the chessboard totally forgotten. It was “bonding day” and Jason had spent the day with Bruce doing whatever. They were in the middle of a post-dinner game of chess, and Jason would leave after they were done. Surprisingly enough, there hadn’t been new arguments that day — but after a few weeks of screaming at each other they were too tired to keep at it.

Jason didn’t miss how Bruce’s mood lifted once he learned Jazz was not coming to the Manor anymore.

He didn’t miss either how Dick, when he came by one weekend, and Alfred were worried at that fact. Or how Tim frowned and looked down, distraught at the development. He didn’t know the shortstack actually liked his girlfriend.

“The Ghost is on her way here.” He tapped the phone screen. Jason hoped he was deactivating security. He better be, at least.

He checked his phone in case there was an emergency and he missed her calls, but there was nothing. She had promised to follow his lead regarding Bruce and he told her to not come around the Manor until he said it was ok, so why was she doing exactly that?

His mind reeled with all the possibilities, since she wouldn’t break her promise for something light.

Jason abandoned the game and approached the door, quickly opening it and running his eyes over the pitch black darkness, trying to identify her silhouette against the dark.

He barely saw the two green eyes before a body slammed against his. Her arms and legs circled around him like a koala, her maskless face buried in the crook of his neck. She was also trembling and her face was wet.

Something was very wrong.

“Jazz?”

She sobbed, rubbing her face against his exposed skin. Her breaths were accelerated too. What could have sent his girlfriend into a panic attack like this? She was made of the tough stuff, she had seen and done a lot of bad shit with him, so why…?

“I…” Her voice was rough. “Jason…”

He squeezed her tighter against him, frowning. “Just breathe with me, darling. Okay? Breathe with me.”

She continued muttering his name, but mimicked his exaggerated slow breaths. In and out, in and out, in and out. The shaking diminished a little bit even if her body continued to be tense.

“Is she okay?”

Jason turned to find Alfred and Bruce looking from the door. It had been Bruce who talked, genuine concern painting his expression. They’ve never seen her out of it before, not even during patrol.

“She’ll be.” He said, walking back up the steps of the porch and into the Manor, registering how Bruce moved aside to let them pass, one hand reaching out to help but not actually touching Jazz. “Alfred, could you—”

“Immediately, sir.”

Jason took the whimpering form of his girlfriend back to the sitting room, walked by the abandoned chess game and settled down on one of the comfortable sofas. He maneuvered her to be on his lap and let her cry in silence as they waited for Alfred to bring a glass of water. He didn’t acknowledge Bruce taking a seat in front of them.

“It was her, Jason. Her… How could this be?” Jazz’s voice was hoarse and spent, barely above a whisper.

“Her?”

“Is not fair.” She rubbed her face against his shoulder. “Not fair.”

He tried really hard to follow her. A quick glance at Bruce told him he also had no idea what was going on, so it wasn’t anything Bruce had done.

Not that he suspected Bruce to try going behind his back and harm Jasmine, but… Well, he wouldn’t put it past him after everything.

Alfred walked right in with a tray with a glass and pitch filled with water, a teapot and some cups. His face didn’t betray anything, but Jason saw his eyebrows furrow for a moment when he glanced at the trembling figure on his lap.

“Thank you.”

The butler nodded and moved to stand behind Bruce, watching them as well.

It was a bit longer before Jazz uncurled enough to accept the water, which she gulped down like a parched man in the desert. She accepted a second glass rather quickly, only giving it a tiny sip before placing it on the coffee table with a frown on her face.

“Jason. She’s back. I don’t know when, I don’t know how. But she—” her voice cracked. “Is not fair.”

“You keep saying that. But who could be—”

“My mother.”

Jason’s memory supplied the tear stained face of Madeline Fenton as she begged for her life. Her screams in the secluded basement where he tied her to a chair. Her void eyes when he explained for the last time why he was doing this.

“She’s dead.”

Jazz laughed, but it wasn’t nice. “Haven’t you heard? Sometimes the dead come back to life.”

“That’s impossible.” He watched her die. He buried her body.

“She’s come back and she’s in Gotham.”

“A ghost?” Bruce spoke, voice carefully low.

Jazz flinched, suddenly too aware of their audience. She kept her gaze on the abandoned glass of water on the table. “A wraith, I think. It’s a type of ghost,” she explained further, feeling the older man’s pointed stare demanding more information, “a subclass, if you will.”

Jason wanted to signal Bruce to stop talking, to not ask the next question. He knew what a wraith was in modern folklore, and he knew that Bruce knew as well.

“What does that mean?” He asked anyway.

Jazz looked him in the eye for the first time since she arrived. “It means she died a painful death and wants revenge.”

The words lingered in the following tense silence. Jazz had never talked about it, especially not with Bruce. He already had a poor opinion of her and she tried so hard to not throw more wood to the fire, so to speak. Her direct admission of what she did, what she asked Jason to do, settled like a block of concrete in their minds.

Bruce’s shoulders tensed for a moment before forcibly relaxing them. He glanced at Jason, expression unreadable.

“Is she going to be a problem?”

Of all the ways to word that question, of course he had to choose the worst one. Jazz took it anyway, licking her lips before picking up her tea cup. She took her time blowing off the steam and taking a sip of the liquid.

The fine porcelain made a clicking sound when she put the cup down, too loud in the quiet room. “She won’t stop until she eliminates her killer.”

Even Alfred looked at Jason with worry.

“We have to—”

Jazz cut Bruce off. “No mortal weapon can kill her. Nothing we can do can stop her.”

They looked at each other, both very tense. Bruce was trying hard not to cave in and take over the situation, push everyone away and fix it himself. Or at least Jason thought so, given what he knew about his father.

The older man unclenched one fist, reaching for his cup of tea. He took his time, considering Jazz’s words, looking at her form still curled on Jason’s lap.

“There’s one thing that can kill her.”

Jazz’s anxious confusion was almost palpable. Bruce let her ruminate his cryptic words like the sadist he could be, gently placing the teacup on the table. He didn’t make any sound, his pinky properly cushioning the porcelain.

“The Justice League seized all that was left regarding the Fenton’s research on Ghosts. Including their—”

“ — weapons.” Jazz finished for him, realization dawning on her.

All the tension left her body, her limbs untethered like a puppet that got their strings cut. Jason felt her heartbeat pick up against his chest, the implications of Bruce’s admission rolling in her head.

***

Bruce waited patiently in his office, watching the soft moonlight coming in from the windows casting shadows on everything. He felt more comfortable in the dark, he was used to it, so he didn’t bother turning on the lights. He could see just fine with the full moon illuminating the room.

Jason, when he was done helping Jazz calm down enough to sleep, would be fine with it too — when he came stomping into the office to make demands and scream at him again.

It was the only thing they did lately.

And it was always about her.

He didn’t hate Jasmine, contrary to what Jason must think. He knew that she was capable of kindness and was a damaged person trying her best. He knew she had a rough childhood and had redirected all that trauma and rage into something constructive.

But so did Bruce, and he didn’t become a mercenary.

Jason taught her how to kill, but she was the one encouraging that behavior in him. She was the one selling him the idea that what they were doing was okay. Bruce had long discarded the idea that she had brainwashed Jason; but Bruce knew how equally damaging toxic love could be for people in their line of work.

Did he think Jason could be nudged in the right direction if Jasmine stopped pulling him further away? That she was knowingly, or unknowingly, associating that life of crime with love?

Yes. Deep in his heart, he knew that sometimes even the purest love could drag you down. He wanted to protect his son from falling deeper than he was.

“Alright, here’s what we are going to do.” Jason said as he opened the door to the office, not giving Bruce time to interject. “I’m going to talk and you will shut the fuck up and listen, ok?”

At least he wasn’t screaming. Probably because his precious Jasmine was sleeping.

Bruce let out a deep sigh and stood up to see Jason eye to eye. His son’s stance was tense and guarded, his eyes shining with controlled emotions.

“You will help — No, it’s not your turn to speak.” He said when Bruce opened his mouth. “You will go to your stupid castle in the sky and you are going to bring down all the weapons you can bring. I don’t care how you do it, but you will convince your boyband to let go of the goods.

“In exchange —” his voice broke a little, but he quickly hid it by clearing his throat and combing back his hair with his fingers. “In exchange I’ll be the perfect little son you always wanted. I’ll come every Sunday for brunch. I’ll patrol with you, with the shortstack and with the Golden Boy. I’ll give up the guns, the killing, everything. I’ll even wear a stupid bat symbol so everyone knows who — that I changed sides.” Bruce knew that was not exactly what he wanted to say. “I don’t care what you do to me. But you will help us and you will leave her out of — out of everything.”

The first crack in his mask. His eyes shone with unshed tears. Angry tears? Jason used to cry when he was a child and rage was overflowing his little body.

“You won’t make her beg. You won’t humiliate her with silly little tests and sadistic games. No power plays. No punishments. I killed her parents. The wraith is coming after me. I will be the one that fixes this and after that… After that we will act like you never met Jazz and like I never died and like — I don’t know.” He breathed, shoulders slumping. “I’m done fighting, Bruce.” The expression he made couldn't be called pleading. It was too angry to be considered in the same category. But still it was a face he hadn’t seen Jason make, ever. “You win, I guess. That’s — That’s the deal.”

Night was quiet as Bruce looked at Jason, really looked at him, for the first time in the whole night. His son has grown into a big man, a bit taller than himself, and nothing like the child he lost years ago.

In that moment, in that place, his boy never looked so small. So disarmed.

Not even in the first days after bringing him to the Manor, when Jason was distrustful and thought he was going to be kicked out at any moment, he looked like that.

He saw the exact moment something changed in his mind, because the emotions in his eyes turned into a wall of ice. “And if you do — If you hurt her in any way,” his hands clenched around the empty space where his holsters usually rested, “if you don’t keep your word and go after her anyway — You won’t like the person I become. And that… that is a promise.”

Frozen and speechless, Bruce couldn’t stop Jason from turning tail and leaving the office as quietly and quickly as he arrived. By the time he made his legs follow him to the hallway, his son was nowhere to be seen.

“Master Bruce?” He turned, finding Alfred standing next to the door, quiet as always. “How did the conversation go?”

“Did you hear us?”

Alfred’s expression was unreadable. He had been unusually somber as he helped the couple prepare a room for Jasmine to rest, once it was decided they would spend the night at the Manor.

“The lack of screaming, while a good sign, made it difficult for me to eavesdrop.”

Jason never raised his voice, but it would have been better if he had. Then Bruce wouldn’t feel like he had messed up again.

He looked so… so angry and defeated. Tired. Weary. He talked about coming back home and being part of the family, but he said it like a prisoner accepting his fate in the gallows.

“Master Bruce?”

Bruce blinked back to reality, focusing on Alfred’s worried eyes. “Yes?”

“How did it go?”

He wanted to say “good”, but somehow his voice wasn’t working. “I don’t know.” He finally managed to say.

Alfred nodded, understanding anyway. “I suggest sleeping on it. Things will look simpler in the morning.”

He was right, of course. He nodded at the butler and bid him good night before making the trek back to the Family Wing of the Manor.

Still considering Jason’s words and the disconnection between his promise and his body language, Bruce walked past Jason’s old bedroom. It should be closed, but the door was open.

Right. They were staying the night.

He almost ignored it and walked past without giving it a second thought, but then he heard a quiet sniffle coming from inside. Was Jason crying? He doubted so, but he still approached the door, peeking inside.

“Bruce.” Jasmine called from inside the dark bedroom. A lamp was turned on, revealing her sitting up, alone, on the bed. Her eyes were puffy and red, so she’d be crying for a while. “What do you need?”

He didn’t want to be in this situation, but he couldn’t say that.

“Just checking on you.” He lied.

She smiled, knowing that it was a lie.

“Well, I am fine. Thank you.” Another lie.

Awkward silence. Jasmine took a deep and fortifying breath and gestured towards the reading chair next to the bed. Probably Jason had moved it from beside the window, where it usually was, and sat next to her before going to talk to him.

“Please sit.”

“I don’t think—”

“Sit.”

It was easy to forget she was the Head of the criminal Underworld of Gotham. That she held power Bruce would never dream of grasping in his own city.

Jasmine and Jason never talked about that part of their lives when they were at the Manor, and she very carefully avoided talking about anything regarding their time together before coming to the city or how they operated in Gotham. She stuck to gentle memories about her childhood, about her brother and vague mentions about picking up hobbies in recent months.

In front of him was the whole Jasmine, he knew. Like the moment before with his son, all pretense was dropped and what he could see was the truth.

In Jasmine, that truth looked cold and hurt.

Bruce walked closer and sat down in the comfortable reading chair, his hands placed on his lap. If she wanted to talk then so be it. It was about time they had a heart to heart.

“We need those weapons.” She opened.

“I know. The League—”

“I speak. You listen.” Jasmine interrupted and lifted her chin, her back completely straight. Bruce wanted to laugh at the gesture since it was all Jason. “We need those weapons and you are going to get them for us. I don’t know how, but I swear if I have to go up there and beat the shit out of every member of the Justice League, believe me I would do it.” She narrowed her eyes.

He held her gaze, letting the seconds pass. As amusing as it was watching her tired visage making vague threats to his colleagues, he was not going to poke the bear and make fun of Jason’s girlfriend.

“I don’t care what I need to do. I don’t care if I have to pass some kind of cryptic test or if I’m banned from operating in the city or if I have to — I don’t know.” She breathed in and out, her hands gripping the sheets with white knuckled fists. “I don’t care how many little dances or how many promises or how much of my soul I have to sell for you to give me those weapons. Believe me I would do it all.

“Do whatever you want with me, but leave Jason out of it.” Her glare was all hers, though. Her teal eyes glowing Lazarus Pits green, the bioluminescence adding shadows to her face that completely changed her expression. “Don’t make him choose between me and you like some kind of immature toddler refusing to share his toys.” She spat. “Give me those weapons and in exchange humiliate me as much as your heart desires, I don’t care. Just—” she let go of the sheets, her eyes dialing back to the dull teal he was more used to “ — Just don’t hurt him anymore.”

Bruce watched new tears gather in her eyes, but unlike Jason, she didn’t even try to contain them. She didn’t acknowledge them either.

“That’s… That’s the deal.”

A strong sense of déjà vu hit him. Did they rehearse this? Some kind of pincer movement with a similar speech? What was her version supposed to do, tug at his heartstrings and pin Jason’s suffering on him?

He wanted to scoff and walk out of the room.

“If you break your word or your only condition is for me to leave the city, to leave him, I swear on my brother, Bruce Thomas Wayne, that there won't be a shadow or bunker in this world that could hide you from me.”

It was a threat. It should be a threat.

Jasmine was trembling. She tried to hide it, and if Bruce were any other person, if he didn’t spend most of his days watching people and analyzing their tells, he would have missed it.

She was terrified. Of her mother, who came back as a vengeful spirit? Of a life without Jason?

He was tempted to smile, but he stopped himself in time.

“What did Jason tell you?”

She blinked, taken aback by his words. “What?”

“Did you guys practice long? They were good speeches, I have to concede it. Yours is a bit over the place, but good enough.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Jason had the exact same conversation with me less than half an hour ago. He didn’t come to tell you?”

He saw it, clear as day. She didn’t know. She looked at the door and then at him, then at her hands that were still shaking. She fisted the sheets again, breathing in, breathing out.

“That idiot. What did he promise you?”

She truly didn’t know. Huh.

“Did he promise to give up his work? That he would be the son you want him to be?” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm and her laugh was hollow. “Of course he did. I don’t even need to ask.”

She folded her legs to hug her knees close to her chest. She looked at Bruce, more tears flowing down her cheeks.

“Don’t let him do that. Bruce, that could very well be the thing that breaks him for good. Living that double life, wearing a mask when he’s with you, burying a part of him... Please, I’m begging you, don’t accept that deal.”

She rested her head on her knees, eyes fixed on him. Her shoulders were tense and her posture was deceptively calm, but he could see her slowly curl on herself as if she were trying to give herself comfort.

“Don’t let him hurt himself like that, Bruce.” There was barely any more fire in her voice. “I love him.” Jasmine smiled, the gesture as weak as everything else in her at the moment. “But I guess it doesn’t matter what I say.”

The switch was subtle. Her eyes stayed on him for a second before straying away; and when they did, her blue glazed over like she was not even there with him anymore.

“Good night, Bruce.” She whispered, still not looking at him.

He stood up, ready to leave, staying a moment to watch this new facet of Jasmine he hadn’t seen before. She was always guarded, quiet, and had this sad air around her that only went away when Jason smiled at her.

Jasmine never cried. She never begged.

And she never looked like this.

Bruce ignored the pinch in his chest, murmured a quick ‘goodnight’ and walked out of the room.

***

Next morning found him looking at his coffee with unblinking eyes. Alfred had already tried to ask what was wrong, but gave up after the third grunt in response.

Bruce watched his own reflection in the beverage, eyebags on his face after spending the whole night unable to sleep. Good thing he didn’t have anything to do that day, because he was ready to drop and the sun was barely rising.

You won’t like the person I become.

There won't be a shadow or bunker in this world that could hide you from me.

He frowned, taking a sip of his coffee. Bruce wasn’t a stranger to his kids threatening him. The echoes of Dick screaming at him in the tumultuous era back before Jason’s passing rang in his ears.

What was new was how… how final they were. How ready to follow through they were — Dick had thrown around threats and tried to act tough, but at the end of the day he always came back. These two threatened him with the desperation of an animal in a cage ready to bite off their own paw if it meant getting free.

But you will help us and you will leave her out of — out of everything.

Do whatever you want with me, but leave Jason out of it.

This is the part that confused him the most. If they had a strategy then why contradict each other so blatantly? Why sacrifice themselves for the other and demand they stay safe? It didn’t make sense.

I’m done fighting, Bruce.

Just don’t hurt him anymore.

Hurt him? He wasn’t—

Well. He knew he was being difficult. He knew that his rejection of his partner was taking a toll on Jason, and he felt so horrible about it. He had been meaning to talk to him about it, and he tried a few times, but it always ended with them screaming at each other.

If Jason could just listen—

I’ll be the perfect little son you always wanted.

Jason’s eyes. Hurt and guarded and his brows furrowed. His hands clenching and his shoulders tense, as if he was bracing for the worst. Even under the sunlight he still saw that interaction in a weird light — why was it such a difficult thing to go back to how things were?

Don’t let him hurt himself like that, Bruce.

What did she know about Jason? They may have spent months together, but Bruce had Jason for years. He knew his son, and he knew the kind of person he could be. Sure, his time in the League and then with Jasmine he might have been influenced — but he could be good, if he tried hard enough.

Bruce looked up when he heard footsteps, hoping he could catch Jason and tell him he would accept his offer. It was the most logical solution, and even if he still didn’t understand why his chest kept being weird when he thought about their conversation; he knew it was best for everyone and that it was the most peaceful solution.

Jasmine was glued to his side, of course, when they walked in. She still looked pale and her eyes were distant, but she had a solid grip on his son’s hand as he guided her to the kitchen.

“Good morning, Master Jason.”

Alfred’s greeting went unanswered as the couple froze in the doorway. Jason frowned a little, and Bruce didn’t miss the slight gesture to place Jasmine behind his back. She also glanced at him without really looking at him, flinching when Bruce lifted his cup to them in greeting.

Alfred cleared his throat. “Breakfast will be ready shortly, the table has been already set.”

Jason’s relief could be tasted in the air. “Thank you, Alfie. Let’s go, darling.”

Jasmine hummed and quietly followed him out of the kitchen.

Bruce sipped his coffee. It was impossible to miss the mood shift. Even these past weeks, when they couldn’t be in the same room without an argument breaking out, Jason never acted so guarded.

Something was breaking. Something was changing right under his nose. Jasmine —

I love him. But I guess it doesn’t matter what I say.

Jasmine had flinched.

He remembered her trembling hands, how raw fear completely messed up her threats. How she looked at him with complete defeat.

Jason had explained before how she tried everything over the table before coming to him, and how broken up she was when they met. He had given a description of the things he found in his own research, but Bruce knew he was omitting some details, probably because they were too private or personal for Jasmine.

He had said that she gave up everything to avenge her brother, and how she had to beg and promise her godfather, a sketchy individual, for the money to pay the job.

Jason also had talked about her nightmares. How she saw her brother being pulled apart again and again by the GIW, by her parents, as she watched. How helpless she felt. There was a lot unsaid, but it didn’t take a genius to understand that Jasmine had many reasons and many people to fear.

And she was terrified of Bruce.

The thought made him stop.

Jasmine was terrified of him?

Is that why Jason was acting like… like this?

I’m done fighting, Bruce. You win, I guess.

Win? What did he win? There wasn’t a competition to win. He just wanted his son back, was that too difficult?

Jason’s voice cracked when he said he would do exactly that. Jasmine had said that it would break him.

Bruce looked at his hands grasping the coffee cup, suddenly not feeling tired anymore.

“Alfred.”

The older man hummed, going back to prepare breakfast for the couple. They didn’t even cross the threshold. They didn’t look at him more than a glance.

“Why do I feel like a villain?”

Alfred didn’t hesitate. “Because you have been acting like one.”

He hadn’t, had he?

It’s just—

He remembered Dick’s worried face. Alfred’s judging frown. Timothy lying to his face claiming homework as an excuse to not go on patrol with him.

Either Jasmine had managed to somehow brainwash everyone into feeling sorry for her enough to look past how she was taking Jason down with her—

Or Bruce was wrong.

About her, about everything.

“What do I do?”

The butler placed the scrambled eggs on a plate just as the toaster pinged and released the freshly toasted bread.

“As far as I can see, you have one last chance to make it right.”

He did. He didn’t have to take Jason’s or Jasmine’s offers, there was another option.

He stood up, taking the cup with him to refill it. As he did, he didn’t dare look Alfred in the eye. “Do you think there’s enough for three?”

The older man chuckled. “Way ahead of you, Master Bruce.” He turned, showing him there was enough toast and eggs prepared for everyone.

***

Jazz contemplated the zeta tube, trying to not get her hopes up just yet. Bruce may have done a one eighty, but that didn’t mean everything was fixed.

Once he apologized and acknowledged he had been a grade A asshole for the best part of a month, he promised to help. No strings attached. No mention to them giving up their life of crime or jabs at Jazz about killing her parents.

Jason had been distrustful for a few days but in the end he accepted it if she accepted it.

They still had to convince the Justice League.

Bruce warned them — he was still just one member of the League, and if the others were unconvinced, he couldn’t just steal the weapons for them. He could vouch and talk about his time knowing her, and he promised he would try his best to help.

Jazz’s relief was evident, guarded as it was. Hope was difficult to come by in their line of work, and she knew the tall task of convincing the Justice League that giving her confiscated weapons to re kill her mother was the right thing to do, as bad as it sounded.

“Are you sure?” She looked up at her boyfriend, smiling at his worried expression.

“I’m positive.”

Only one of them could go with Bruce to the Watchtower, and Jazz volunteered. It made sense — she was the only one deeply entwined with the problem, and she was the one that made the call to kill her parents.

“I worry.” He placed a hand on her cheek, the cold material of his gloves wasn’t uncomfortable at all.

“I know.”

“I want to go with you.”

“You can’t.”

“I know,” he sighed, leaning in to gently place his forehead against hers. He closed his eyes, feeling her presence. “I hate this, but— “

She hummed in agreement. This wasn’t the first time they had this conversation, and having it again in front of the zeta tube was not going to change the outcome. She was going, disarmed, with Bruce.

Jazz trusted Jason, and Jason trusted that Bruce was being truthful. That was enough.

A throat being cleared made them jump away from each other, turning to find Alfred and Dick, with Bruce approaching from the stairs. Dick’s little smile was refreshing after so much pain. He had been quick to like Jazz once he got to know her.

“Ready?” Batman asked, now next to the couple.

Jazz nodded, getting on the tip of her toes to quickly give her partner a kiss on the lips. “For good luck.”

“You think you are going to need it?” He asked, a smirk stretching his lips.

“I just wanted one.”

Both chuckled at the memory of another time, another place, and basked in the cozy feelings.

With a final nod, Jazz turned and joined Batman closer to the gate of the tube, head held high and shoulders thrown back.

Time to make her case.

***

Bruce watched Jazz closely since the moment they entered the Watchtower — maybe still wary about her murder tendencies, maybe to observe her behavior now that she was separated from Jason. Whatever he expected she was not it, since she looked exactly the same as she always did; a little bit sad but determined with the task in front of her.

She was very task oriented, so she didn’t stop for idle chat as they made their way through the Justice League base. Her steps were quiet, eerily quiet, just like his. He still couldn’t brush aside the discomfort of having another person know his techniques when he never actually participated in her training.

He heard her gasp, and turned to see what was wrong.

Jasmine was frozen in front of the nearest window, which gave an amazing view of the Earth from space. From being at the Watchtower so often, Bruce had gotten used to the views and usually just walked past without giving it much thought. Watching Jazz approach the reinforced glass holding her breath made him notice the astonishing view more than he did the first time he set foot in the space station.

He noticed one of her hands went for her neck and fished a necklace from under her shirt.

He had seen the chain before but he never asked about it, assuming it was a gift from Jason or something like that. Jazz didn’t strike him as a jewelry kind of woman, but he wasn’t curious enough to ask about it in case it was indeed a romantic gift from his son.

What an idiot he had been. He acted like he was concerned about their love being toxic but he actually just didn’t acknowledge their relationship as much as he possibly could.

“This was Danny’s.” Jazz’s voice cut him from his thoughts. He approached her and quietly waited for her to continue. “The only thing I could take from— When I ran away, there wasn’t much I could take.” He watched her fingers rub the piece of metal with a hole drilled in it. It was shiny from being rubbed like this many times. “Danny loved space. He had rocket models he put together himself.”

She looked back to the blue planet from the window, her voice trailing as much as her thoughts.

This was the first time Jazz actually talked about her brother to him directly, Bruce noticed. The first time she brought him up when they talked alone. She was usually fine with Jason doing the talking, or with him talking about her past to the others, including her past life back at Amity Park.

But she never talked to Bruce like this. She looked… vulnerable. In a way that wasn’t as broken and all over the place as she was when she tried to beg him back at the Manor.

“He would have loved the Watchtower.”

“Hm.” Bruce didn’t know what to say to that. Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn’t. He didn’t know the kid.

She glanced at him and smiled. “But it is better for all of us that he is not here now.” She put the makeshift necklace back where it usually rested, safe and sound. “Right?”

Bruce swallowed, unsure what would even be the right thing to say in this situation. Was she implying that Danny was better off dead? That he would hate confronting the Justice League? That he wouldn’t like having to kill their mother, who was turned into a wraith?

He nodded without really knowing what he was agreeing to and gestured towards the hallway that led to the meeting room he had prepared. She nodded back and continued walking.

Soon they were at the correct place, and Jazz froze at the door. He watched, waiting to see what she would do. She took a few fortifying breaths and nodded at him, signaling she was ready.

The meeting room was as it always was — pure chaos. The Justice League loved to appear professional and put together on TV, but reality is that sometimes Bruce almost yearned for his Gotham and herding Robin and Batgirl around every minute he spent with the League.

He cleared his throat, calling everyone’s attention.

Jazz’s feet make a bit of noise as she shuffled in discomfort at the looks from all the heroes in the room.

“Hi, Batman.” Clark greeted first with a polite smile. “And guest.”

Someone swallowed.

The others had been roughly briefed about the topic they would discuss that day, and Bruce could already see some of the frowns of clear disagreement. The weapons and technology they found in the Fenton household had been deemed too dangerous to even try to analyze. They were stored safely and untouched next to the other artifacts they keep hidden, just in case.

If he didn’t know Jazz and her situation like he did, he would have joined the ranks of the people against letting her have them.

“This is Jasmine Fenton,” her eyebrows twitched at hearing her real name, but she had agreed that she wouldn’t try to hide anymore, “and you should hear what she has to say.”

Without any other comment he glided towards his seat and gestured to Jazz to begin. No need for pleasantries. With a wraith loose in his city he wasn’t inclined to waste time.

He ignored everyone’s eyes on him. It was unusual for the Dark Knight to blatantly show this support with an unknown, specially when dangerous weapons were involved.

“Hi,” her voice cracked. She cleared her throat. “I am… well.” She ran a hand through her hair and glanced at Bruce, who nodded in encouragement. “As Batman said, I am Jasmine, Jasmine Fenton,” she swallowed hard as she said the last name. “My parents were Madeline and Jackson Fenton, who created all that anti-ghost technology you guys removed from my house about a year ago.”

Bruce could see a bunch of people were already twitching to interrupt her and speak up, ask her more about her story, ask her all the unanswered questions back when they were alerted of the Anti-Ecto Laws and found the destroyed labs.

“My… I need those weapons.” Jazz approached the table and placed her hands on the surface, eyes glaring at the pristine white material. “I knew they would be safe with you guys, it has always been my intention to bury everything, every gun, every device, every research; I knew it would be best if it was stored away wherever the Justice League keeps the doomsday devices and cursed amulets.

“But things have changed — my mother is back. Madeline is back. And those weapons,” she jabbed her finger against the table, making a point, “are the only thing that can stop her. I need you to help me kill my mother again.”

***

Jazz felt spent after defending her case for about an hour and a half. It was hard, and the Justice League loved to get distracted by questions that didn’t matter — what were ectoentities, who did the GIW really work for, who else was involved, how did they die, how did Maddie and Jack die.

No more secrets, she promised. Bruce helped her go through some of the questions since he knew all that information already. She watched as he skillfully redirected the questioning far away from Jason’s involvement in this whole thing without actually lying, offering just enough truth to satisfy his colleagues.

What a hypocrite. Always obsessed with knowing everyone’s secrets but refusing to give his own.

But she promised to behave, so she did, and after reliving the worst years of her life in front of a crowd of judging superheroes, she was asked politely to wait outside for the verdict.

She could still hear them discuss though. Did Bruce forget about her little ectoplasm-related enhancements? Or maybe he didn’t and he counted on her listening in.

Whatever was the case, Jazz paced outside the meeting room as she listened to her supporters and detractors pull apart her words and memories, talking about things she didn’t want anybody else to know. Danny would have hated sharing so much about his secrets, but Danny…

Danny wasn’t there.

Danny was—

“Jasmine.”

She looked up, startled. She didn’t hear the door open. Wonder Woman was there, gesturing her in with a warm smile. Diana had been supportive of her cause almost immediately, with the reasoning that if Batman vouched for her then she trusted her.

“Yes?”

“We have decided.”

She nodded and followed back inside with her head high and her back straight. She had been listening to the discussion go back and forth, but missed the actual verdict.

The heroes watched her intently, some with a slight frown, some with a curious smile.

Bruce was smiling one of his invisible smiles. Jason always said that understanding B’s microexpressions was an art in itself, and by this time she was starting to understand his wisdom.

Superman cleared his throat. “You can take the weapons,” she let go of the breath she didn’t know she had been holding, “but we will supervise and log what you take. And when it is… done,” he made a face, the topic of Maddie’s murder and wraith status had affected him, “you will return everything as it is. Do you accept these conditions?”

Jazz was already nodding. “Yeah! I don’t think I’ll need a lot. Just let me see what you managed to salvage.”

Having decided, the meeting was adjourned and almost everyone left the room as soon as it was declared done. Bruce stayed behind with Jazz, same as Diana, who watched Jazz with curious eyes.

“You have suffered, child.” She said in a soft voice. “I grieve for you.”

Jazz nodded, not knowing how to feel about the comment. Grief? Grieving was for the dead, and she was still alive. For a long while, that had been her problem.

She looked aside, feeling uncomfortable with her thoughts.

“Shall we?” Bruce took pity on her and asked her to follow him towards wherever the Fenton tech was stored.

The walk was long, but she didn’t mind it. It gave her time to focus back on the task and recenter herself after the grating discussion of her past in front of total strangers. She just had to suck it up and power through the discomfort, get what she needed and go back to Jason’s arms and brainstorm strategies with him.

Bruce guided her deeper and deeper into the guts of the Watchtower, sadly away from any windows that showed Earth and the stars.

“Here,” he stopped at a seemingly inconspicuous wall and placed his hand against a panel. There was a beep and the wall opened to show a computer. He typed something on the keyboard and a robotic voice requested a code. “Batman, B01.”

Another beep and the walls hissed before splitting open to show a giant storage room.

He went first, Jazz followed.

The room was floor to ceiling full of different things — weapons, jewelry, paintings, anything you could imagine. Some were easy to guess why the Justice League kept under lock and key, but others were more mysterious in nature.

Finally, he stopped at the back of the room, where a few crates were pushed to the side. They were labeled and carefully cataloged with numbers she couldn't decipher, but probably were some kind of League storage organization.

She did recognize her own last name written on the label.

This was it. Everything that was left of her childhood, reduced to a bunch of boxes.

She chuckled at the situation.

Under Batman's supervision she got to work. After a moment it was easy to ignore his quiet presence and got into the flow of opening a crate and rummaging through the items looking for what she knew was familiar.

Sometimes Bruce asked her questions she found easy to answer — what does this device do, what's an ecto signature, why did her parents use a toaster as a base for that. Jazz got into a comfortable stream of words and memories, feeling lighter as she revisited a past she had been trying so hard to forget. Maybe it was exactly because it was Bruce, and not Jason, who listened that made the detachment of her emotions and her memories work. It was less raw, it was less painful, but she still got lost in the memories and remembered facts that had drowned in the grief for so long.

Soon she made a pile with weapons and devices she knew she would need and aligned with Batman how exactly she planned to use them.

“What is this?” Batman asked with the same neutral but curious tone.

Jazz turned, finding him holding a wooden box in his hands. It wasn't a gun, and it wasn't anything she had ever seen before. She'd think that Bruce misplaced an artifact with her family's stuff if she couldn't clearly see the Fenton symbol burned on the lid.

She took the box and turned it in her hands, trying to guess what it was. Inside something rattled, something made of glass, and she decided against shaking the box just in case.

She opened it.

Inside she found a single glass marble. It was dull and cracked and she could guess it was supposed to be a light blue in color.

Jazz screamed, one hand rushing to her mouth.

She knew what this was.

How?

Why?

Bile rushed up her throat and she barely had time to push the box away from her before throwing up on her shoes.

“Jasmine?” Bruce carefully closed the box and put it on a shelf, but Jazz wasn't paying attention.

How?

“Jazz? Talk to me. Breathe.”

Breathe? She tried to breathe but air wasn't coming. She was hyperventilating. She needed to calm down, she needed to leave, she needed to close her eyes and disappear.

But the box was still there. On the shelf. He was still there. In the box. On the shelf.

She went back to the box, slapping Bruce's hand away. She needed to see it again, see with her own eyes, to feel it.

The marble — the core — Danny's core was still there, in the box, on the shelf. But Danny was gone. They looked for him. They looked so hard for him.

She opened the box and the dull piece of glass greeted her back. She lifted a hand to touch it, expecting it to be cold. One time, Danny explained he had an ice core and that if a human tried to touch it they would be frozen in seconds. He had been excited about it, talking about thermodynamics and ghosts' wacky physics.

But Danny wasn't here anymore.

The piece of rock was warm to the touch.

Danny is dead.

He was dead and his core was stored amongst velvet in a repurposed jewelry box.

Danny is dead.

“I can't feel you.”

***

“They're taking their sweet time huh?”

Jason ignored Dick and continued reading his book, not at all glancing at the zeta tube and wondering if he should start assuming the Watchtower was on fire and Jazz needed a rescue. Bruce promised he would be there for her and Jason believed him.

But it has been hours and he knew how difficult the situation was for his girlfriend. He wished he could be there for her but Bruce could only take one guest at a time and Jazz was the best option and of course, she's a strong independent woman, but still, after everything he worried and—

“Oh finally.”

The telltale rumble of the zeta tube coming back to life was a blessing. He immediately stood up and approached the machine, ignoring his brother's snickers as he followed.

He expected to greet his beloved with open arms, maybe a twirl or two to celebrate her success — because of course he knew she'd be victorious — but he didn't expect to be pushed aside and be left in the dust with a confused sibling and their silent father. Jazz ran directly towards the stairs and disappeared before he could question why she was crying.

He turned towards his next best target.

“What did you do.” It wasn't a question.

Bruce had already removed his cowl. He looked tired.

“I didn't do anything. Calm down.”

“Did the League say no?”

Bruce shook his head at his eldest son. “Agreement was favorable. She can take what she needs as long as she gives it back.”

Jason looked between the stairs and Bruce. Console Jazz or get answers.

“Then what—?”

Bruce brought out a box from somewhere in his cape. Robins still had a theory the cape was some kind of bag of holding.

“From what I could gather,” his expression was very serious, more than the usual, “this box contains what remains of Jazz's brother. It was left behind at the house amongst the weapons so we took it, assuming it was some kind of power source. It… It wasn't.”

He opened the box, showing a cracked little glass sphere. This is all that remained of Danny? And it was with experimental weaponry?

Dick and Jason looked at each other, their minds going to the same places.

***

Jazz had thrown up everything in her stomach and more, and she was past the guilt of ruining Alfred's carefully maintained garden. She hoped the old man understood.

She was hiding next to some bushes right outside the kitchen backdoor. It was the first place she collapsed in after finding a door and it was in the shade and outside and it was all she needed.

It was also quiet and away from everyone, and she sobbed in peace.

Danny is dead.

Danny has been dead and gone for a while.

How long?

Given how her parents had his core in a custom box, she guessed it had been a while, probably since the moment he died. Knowing them like she did, they would have harvested his organs for further analysis.

More bile shot up her throat. She almost didn't have the strength to retch this time.

“Need some water?”

She didn't look up, not wanting to face Dick.

“I came as a stand in. Your darling is being calmed down by Bruce and talked out of looking for your parents' ghosts and… well. You know him.”

This made her chuckle. Jason would descend to the deepest pit of hell and shoot everyone in his way down if a single soul hurt her.

Jazz accepted the offering of a cold water bottle. “Thanks.” Her voice was rough but she didn't care anymore.

Dick hummed and sat beside her, carefully away from where she had thrown up. He didn't mind the smell. Or her pathetic state.

“My brother is dead.”

The words came out on their own, as if a supernatural force dragged them up her irritated throat.

Dick nodded, but didn't say anything. He waited for her to continue.

“My brother is dead and my parents killed him.”

If it was another time, she would have hated sounding so small. She was being silly. Danny died a long time ago, why was she feeling so raw as if it just happened?

She had grieved. She had done her time.

More tears ran down her wet face. She thought she had run out of those but apparently not.

“They tortured him and then kept his core as a trophy.” She drank some of the water, feeling her mind getting sharper as she talked. “No. Not a trophy. It was research.”

It was used. Cracked. Dull.

Dick hummed again and this time she finally looked up.

“They experimented with him after his body was gone, right?”

The man controlled his face well as he nodded. “We think so too.”

Danny was dead, and had been for a long time, but didn't rest.

He didn't rest. And his core was used until there was nothing left of him.

He wasn't dead. He wasn't gone. If only she found him sooner—

“It's not your fault.” Dick stopped her spiraling thoughts. “Your brother's death. Is not your fault.”

“I could have contacted Jason sooner. I could have found his core sooner.”

Why didn’t he understand? Danny was her little brother and she failed him. She was supposed to take care of him and she let him fade.

And here she was, playing superheroes and getting cozy with some guy and trying to fit in with a new family?

Danny would never have that.

Danny was dead.

“But you didn't. You did what you could and it was enough.”

She shook her head. Nothing was enough. Her baby brother was gone.

“I didn't learn about Jason until I was back from a mission offworld. It was weeks. I learned my brother was dead because people told me they were sorry for my loss.”

Jazz already knew this, but nodded in encouragement.

“I… I felt like I failed my baby brother. We didn't start close but I grew fond of him and tried to be there, but I had the Titans and my team needed me more and more. I always thought that the kid was fine without me, that it was fine if I pursued my hero career away from Bruce's shadow and away from Gotham. Until I learned what happened. How Jason died. How Bruce pushed him away. And then I thought ‘If only I was around more, if only Jason felt more comfortable telling me things, if only.’”

“It wasn't your fault.”

Even as she said the words she understood the irony.

“I know that now, but I felt that way for so long.” He smiled, showing his dimples. “It really helped having Jason back, having this second chance.”

“Danny is gone.”

He nodded. “Danny is gone.” After a moment of silence he added: “There won't be a second chance and we can only guess. But from what you told us about him, he wouldn't like you thinking that any of that is your fault.”

She watched him, his calm smile under the sunlight, his strong shoulders. Is this what having an older sibling was supposed to be like?

She tried to speak but only more sobs came out. Dick made the choice for her and pulled her into his arms and flushed against his chest.

He didn't say anything else as she screamed and sobbed for the life she never had, for the brother she wouldn't have back and for the second chance she had been robbed of.

***

“You know, I can try to figure out the portal schematics.”

Jazz looked up from the Fenton insignia on the lid of the box. Tim looked small and unsure, looking at her briefly before averting his eyes.

The kid hadn’t been present for the worst of it, but the others must have told him what happened. He wouldn’t be so careful if they didn’t.

Jazz felt annoyed. She wasn’t going to break if her brother was mentioned. “Why would you do that?”

Tim took her question as an invitation and walked closer, sitting down next to her on the steps of the back porch.

“I read,” he made a face, both knew whose research he had read exactly, “that spirits can be dormant in their core and the right amount of ectoplasm could jumpstart it back.”

Jazz opened the box, proud when her hands didn’t tremble. It’s been a few days and she was still recovering but at least it didn’t hurt to see the little glass core as much as it did.

“Like a car battery?”

The other chuckled. He sounded so much like Danny. “Yeah. Like a car battery. But with ghosts.”

She smiled but couldn’t gather the energy to laugh. “Would you do that for me?”

The kid didn’t hesitate. “Of course! You saved my life.” He said it was a no brainer. “And you are part of the family now.”

If Jazz had the mental capacity to deal with it, she would have commented on the tone Tim’s voice had when he said the last comment — the longing and desire and frustration. She knew the circumstances in which he became Robin and how he felt about taking a mantle that wasn’t his.

But she just couldn’t deal with any of this right now.

“It’s okay,” she closed the box, breathing in slowly, “I don’t think it will be necessary. The world doesn’t need another Fenton portal. One had caused enough grief already.”

She ignored the look in Tim’s face and how he opened his mouth to comment but wisely chose to close it.

“What are you going to do?” He asked instead.

Jazz hadn’t seriously thought about it, but after a chat with Bruce the seed of an idea started taking root in her mind.

“Did it help? Having a funeral, the tombstone, keeping it all after he came back?”

She could see her own face reflected back when he answered. “It helped… for a while. What is harder is what to do after.”

“I think I’m going to bury him.” She lifted the box. “Danny never got a funeral. He was actually never declared legally dead. He was just… missing.”

Missing implies the possibility of him coming back. Missing meant she didn’t have a place to mourn.

She had asked Jason what he thought about his tombstone and he shrugged. “Funerals are for the living.” He had said.

Danny was gone and he wasn’t coming back.

Maybe it was time for her to move on.

***

Killing her own mother should have been a harder task than it actually was.

If it was another time, another place, she would have had a difficult time. Maybe she would have hesitated, or lacked resources or her plans would have crumbled down the minute her target’s erratic behavior overwhelmed her.

But she was not that person anymore.

Jasmine Fenton died when Daniel died. When her innocence was shattered by the same people that were supposed to protect her and her brother.

She had made something new, someone new, with the parts left behind in the destruction. She had become someone who knew how to plan, how to kill, how to pull the trigger when it mattered.

If she was another person, in another time, she would have found the emotional detachment aberrant as she took the shot that ended her mother.

But that was not her mother and she was not her daughter. The cycle of violence had to end.

Jazz was met with her favorite dish and plenty of hugs and a foot massage when she got back home. Jason didn’t ask her, and let her talk as much or as little as she wanted. He hummed or clicked his tongue as the conversation needed, but never stopped listening.

Bruce accepted her bag with the weapons without making a single comment, trusting that she was returning everything exactly as it was supposed to be. He didn’t ask anything, but pulled her into a hug and gave her a pat on her head that meant more than anything he could have said.

Tim and Dick never wandered too far, and helped her with figuring out the plans for the funeral. Her only request had been to plan it after she finished the business with her mother, and they patiently waited until she asked about it when she visited the Manor to give back the Fenton tech.

Jason was there every step of the way.

***

It wasn’t raining the day of Danny’s funeral. A miracle being Gotham.

Tucker had commented that maybe the city was giving her grace on such an important date.

Jazz chose to invite Danny’s friends after a long back and forth. Their parting words had been hurtful and they were completely against what she had done to avenge her brother, but she also felt like they deserved to know. About the funeral, about the core.

They booked the first flight to Gotham and stayed with Jason and her the week before the actual day, getting to know her and reconnect and reminisce about Danny.

They still didn’t approve of her life choices but at least had the decency to behave.

They guessed the whole Ghost and Red Hood thing pretty quickly, not that either of them was hiding. Fortunately for all the parties involved, nobody brought up the Batman elephant in the room, not even when they met the rest of the family.

The funeral was simple and to the point, and a very small event. Only the family and Sam and Tucker were there, who said a few words before Jazz put the wooden box with Danny’s core in the ground.

She didn’t cry during the ceremony. She had already cried enough.

“I still think it’s hilarious that you have a tombstone, dude.”

“What can I say? I dig it.”

Sam groaned while Tucker and Dick chuckled.

Jazz smiled and glanced at Jason’s grave next to Danny’s. It was weathered with time and the elements but you could still easily read Jason’s full name and date of birth and death.

Danny’s chosen death day was a hard debate between Sam, Tucker and herself — the date of the accident? The date when he was taken away? Or the date that Project P-001 perished, according to the GIW records?

In the end, just because Danny would have found it hilarious, they put the date of the portal accident.

Jazz almost jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned, finding Bruce watching her with a worried expression. Well, as worried as his usual neutral face could be.

“I’m okay.” She said, and it was the truth.

She was okay. More than okay — she was content. She had a home, she had love, she had a goal, she had hopes and dreams. She still missed Danny and mourned the life they could have had, but she had so much more than grief and pain inside now.

The clouds parted and sunshine fell on the cemetery, blinding her for a moment. She lifted her face to smile at the sun, basking in the warmth that enveloped her body like an embrace.

She was okay. She was alive.

It’s what Danny would have wanted.

---

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