#instant motivation to go heavier

[wereallqueer-here]

girl just approached me at the gym and said my lift was impressive and that I just became her new gym crush🥰

[takes1]

final part. bratty tsukishima x manager!reader enemies to lovers

thank you for all the kind words on this series!! fell in love with writing again and the support really helps me stay motivated! hit up my requests to lmk what else ya'll might wanna read from me!

warnings. heavy nsfw. minors DNI

details. nsfw / semi-public sex / safe sex! / m. first time / implied exp. reader / f. receiving oral / almost m. oral / mentioned handjobs / time skip / tsukki has horrible stamina / tsukki figuring out condoms / tsukki needing his glasses / needyshima / 3.5k

🤍 kei series. part one -- four here

more links. my ao3, my other stuff. request box

"What? You don't have to do that!"

Honored that the team as a unanimous entity agreed that you shouldn't clean and lock up the gym yourself, you blinked away the unexpected backlash.

You turned to Daichi, unable to buck up the courage to address everyone, "It's really not a big deal. You guys need to rest before this thing, I want all of you to get home as soon as you can."

He turned it over in his head a few times, looking to Suga for a second opinion, while most others insisted that they didn't want you staying longer.

They all had their personal reasons. Most were only doing it to be polite, but there were also a number of idiots that wanted to train for much longer than they should be allowed to.

Logic won out and soon you were twirling the keys around your finger, waving goodbye to the most disheartened Hinata you'd ever seen.

"You can come out," You called to Tsukishima after securing the closed doors.

He blended right out of the crowd earlier, sneaking off to the gym closet before anyone noticed his absence. It was pretty impressive how he managed to go so overlooked at his height.

From the clacking and banging that ensued beyond the closet entrance, you could only imagine he must've buried himself under some tricky supplies to remain hidden.

These desperate measures weren't commonplace; your parents were gone often, so most of the risque endeavors were kept to your bed. You made the mistake of going to his house only once, and thankfully were (mostly) clothed when his brother barged in.

When you approached, he was kicking a bucket off of his foot with the grumpiest frown on his face. It only deepened as you laughed at him.

"Ooh, was that tough?" You teased, taking his attitude-stricken face in your hands.

He rolled his eyes and let you pepper him with a few quick kisses.

"It was your idea," You reminded him, trying to make him maintain eye contact.

Neither of your homes had been a good option to see each other in lately. For a week, it was just studying together in public spaces. Though the normalcy was nice, you were both itching after the end of every practice to really 'see' each other.

His eyes flickered to match your gaze, but it was gone in an instant because he stole your lips for a gentle, long-awaited kiss. His body melted into yours, features relaxed when you pulled away.

He let you pull him back deeper into the closet, but not without some payment in return. It wasn't exactly a sexy place to be.

"This is-," You said between rushed, indecent kisses, "Pretty exciting," Your hand caught on a pile of heavy gymnastics mats to catch yourself from his clumsy pushing, "Isn't it?"

The presence of the mat did give him some ideas. Maybe it wasn't so bad.

With a bit of tantalizing force, he picked you up and smushed you against the only bare wall in the closet. Your tummy tightened and you locked around him with an uncontrollable moan.

There were a lot of things he thought to say, but didn't dare ruin how hot that was with his, at the worst of times, mood-ruining comments.

You nonverbally thanked him with a roll of your hips on his strained cock and a bold tongue against his own. He felt heavier on you, clawing at your ass under your shorts, a low groan just barely tangible against your mouth.

His tendency to get lost in these small things held the romantic in you captive- while also tending to your more animalistic impulses.

He just wanted more and more of you, and couldn't ever get enough.

It was because of this that you found it so difficult to wriggle out of his grasp, even though it was clear you were trying to take your shirt off.

You chuckled at his uncoordinated grabbing, nuzzling against your hair, and eventual drop to his knees when you unclipped your bra.

On his way down, he removed his soaked shirt off and cast it aside.

From this height he could offer his hands and mouth much easier. He never envied shorter men until he started getting neck pain from kissing you all the time.

His hands took up so much of your chest it looked a bit funny to you. At least for a moment. He pressed the flat of his tongue to a sensitive bud and sighed some preoccupied satisfaction through his nose when he sucked a kiss to the other.

His eyes were fierce and hard to look at when he was ever beneath you, it always sent a chill down your spine.

You bit back many a-sound to not let it all go to his ego too quickly. Despite this, he felt your excitement through your rapid, uneven breathing and relished in it anyway.

The imaginative idea of being on his knees was new to you-- and it gave you a good opportunity to introduce a growing interest of yours.

He was of course grumpy to be directed back up to stand.

It came out mostly in the form of his arms catching you before you could replace him on the floor.

"What- What are you doing?" His cool demeanor failed horribly.

You craved to see the way he got all huffy and sensitive again at your touch. The furthest you'd gotten so far regarding his pleasure were two brief hand jobs.

A gentle, yet firm rub of your palm on his clothed erection eased his doubt. His hold twitched into something softer and his chest puffed out.

"Relax, Tsukki," You cooed with a small peck to his jaw, "I just wanna try something."

He had horrible stamina, it felt quite complimentary to your abilities. You wanted to see how long he'd last when you were actually trying. He slowly allowed you the freedom to drop down to your knees.

There was just one problem.

He was so far away in this position. Not even just his head, which really did look like it was a mile up- but his hips were not where they needed to be.

His legs took up so much of his height, you were shocked to just now be noticing.

Confused, yet determined to make this work, you tugged on him.

"I'm... not squatting," Tsukishima bit back the humor bubbling beneath the surface just for you.

He watched you glance around the room for anything to put under your knees. A bit disinterested in finishing too quickly, he didn't allow you much time to think beyond a few more unproductive seconds.

"Probably for the best," He muttered, brought you up to stand, and glanced over your impossibly cute disappointment, "'M too sweaty for that."

It was a fair reason to be hesitant, but did nothing to ease your dismay. It was short-lived though, because his fingers flitting over your ribs gave a new intensity to your better-hidden desire.

He stepped between your legs and leaned forward, forcing you to take a stumbly step back. The back of your knees hit the heavy stack of training mats and left you no option but to sit.

For all you knew, his excuse could've been a clever cover-up to get to his preferred method of foreplay.

If there was anything he picked up the best from your weeks of scattered and fervent physical rendezvous, it was eating you out. The pride of making you cum on his tongue completely consumed him for the days following.

It was so strong at practice that Kageyama would often identify his newfound, difficult confidence in a series of angry disputes.

"You should lay down," Heavy-lidded eyes flickered over that validating look on your face that told him you just couldn't wait to be under his skilled tongue.

You fell into a rhythm whenever his courage found him again; once he believed he was good at something, he put 100% of his effort into it. This was, to your delight, one of those lucky instances.

Warm, wet, rushed kisses over your tummy preceded the skilled and subtle slide of your shorts and panties to the floor.

He knew what you liked. A rough grip around your thighs and a gentle, teasing kiss over your sex.

"So wetalready," He mumbled against you, prepping you for that addictive slide of his tongue from your entrance to your clit.

"A-ah," You failed to bite back a broken sound.

A combination of embarrassment to eclipsing pleasure left your thighs flexing against his grasp.

At the foreign feeling of something a bit hard, a bit uncomfortable, you realized--

"You're-- mmn-, glasses," You tried to communicate.

Completely deaf and unconcerned with the process or any words that didn't express how good he felt, he let your shaky, clumsy hand remove them.

He knew how to be just cocky enough to make you squirm. This gentle, endearing action inspired him to start swirling some soft circles around your clit.

"God," You choked, "That's soo fucking good..."

You rested them next to you and opted for your fingers in his fluffy blond hair.

It did help him, though. He felt them getting a bit crooked when he started, but didn't want to let you go and interrupt his flow. Now he could lean more freely.

Another rough kiss and your body curled in response- he kept your thighs, despite their straining, where he wanted them.

"Mm-!" You whined at his strength and tenderness all at once. Your mind couldn't help but wonder how that translated to his cock.

It must've been tough, since most of your bedroom activities centered around making out, eating you out once he fell in love with it, and the couple of times you made him cum with just your hand in record time.

Little to your knowledge, he was committing your visits to memory by getting off before and after. Not to mention nearly every morning now, and after the practices you couldn't be with him after. It was a pretty chronic addiction.

He lapped up the excess wet and used it as extra, completely unnecessary lubrication for his gentle, steady assault on you.

It edged you so close to finishing you had to tug him up by the roots.

"Tsukki- a-ah, I'm-,"

His chin dripped in lewd clear, his eyes bordering on mean how he squinted (blind) up at your interruption.

Ohh, fuck.

Despite hating the premature ending, even his contentious personality couldn't deny that pouty, needy expression on such a pretty face.

He only had a moment to wipe off the drool, amongst other substances, from his chin, as you pulled him in.

"I need you- so bad," You begged between hot kisses and his preferential taste for sucking just under your ear.

You heard him quite clearly stop breathing for a moment.

"Yeah?" He rasped, hardly a trace of brown in his sparkling eyes. The generous bulge prodding against you from his athletic shorts was a welcome challenge.

His body weighed on you as he smashed his lips into yours, clumsy and enthusiastic and wanton. Your legs wrapped around his waist and stirred a shaky groan from his throat.

That vivid print crammed against your pussy gave you a very bleak, disheartening reminder.

Your brow furrowed and you pushed a bit on his chest.

Highly sensitive to this small act of rejection, he took nearly all of his weight off of you at once.

Quick on the uptake though, you explained, "I-, I really do want you, it's just- I'm not comfortable doing this without a condom."

The epic battle playing in his head halted at once.

His eyes lit up wide, but his voice was as flat as usual, "I have one."

Confusion, relief, and chiefly the excitement between your legs took over all at once.

You laughed, leaning up to give him a smiley, lustful kiss, "Since when are you so optimistic?"

He returned it with an ardent, brief passion and tore himself away to collect his wallet from the floor. There was no extra inflection nor amorous implication to his words as he responded.

"Since you."

In a way, it almost sobered you up. The matter-of-fact statement was somehow new and old news, but hearing him declare it, instead of a mere suggestion, built a bridge you didn't realize you were still missing.

You got up to a kneel on the mats and pulled him in for a softer and appreciative kiss. He wore a little confused smile when you pulled away, but didn't question you.

Between you was the condom pinched between his index and middle finger. The thumb on his other hand was hooked under his waistband.

"Can you-," He looked away from you, bashful with a cute frown.

"Show you?"

A tiny nod.

There was no doubt in your mind for how you wanted to take him.

"Get on your back for me, baby," You mumbled against his lips with a fleeting kiss.

Stiff with nerves from your self-assuredness, he swiped off the rest of his clothes and put his back to the sticky vinyl-covered mat. You weren't aware of the curious tilt your head gave as you settled above him, but it spurred a whole-body shiver in him.

"You see the little rim? And how, if I turn it upside down, it's not the same?"

He squinted only for a millisecond before grabbing around for his glasses -adorable- and gave a nod when he saw what you meant.

"It's like a contact," He muttered.

You nodded, carefully picking up his hard-on enough to slide the thing on. He watched, learned, intently how you managed to do this.

"If you put it on the wrong way, it's more likely to slip off."

Your hips slid up over his now-safe dick. He was silently relieved he could feel just a fraction less with it on, because you looked too damn good perched up on him like that. No way he'd be lasting very long.

Dropping to your elbows, you gave him another soft kiss and took his glasses off again with a chuckle.

"I can't watch you?" He muttered, finding your eyes now that he couldn't see as well. That was your goal; he always gave you better eye contact when he couldn't tell his left from right.

"Mm-mm," You hummed against his cheek, positioning him against your aching pussy.

It was all on your accord to take him as you liked. He was too smart to move before he knew you wanted him to.

That didn't stop the grip on you from getting twitchy and hard, nor his unrestrained sounds.

"Augh-aha, jesus--, fuck..." Awe flashed across his face for a moment, quickly overshadowed by a deeply furrowed brow and an unwavering, adoring stare.

You seethed, eyes rolling back at his size filled you up. There was heavenly electricity he somehow pushed through your entire body. Even your fingers were buzzing.

His hip-work was a bit confused, but it was charming, slow, and good for a start when you suggested that he move.

"That feel good?" You breathed, shaky, but wanting to know all of his thoughts. As if he wasn't wearing it all over his face.

He was coated in sweat- you were, too, because there was no cooling in here, but he was distractingly so. The side of his face glistened in the orange-hued room.

"Fuc-k, ye-ah..." He wore an open-mouthed half-smirk as he admired your slick body sit up on his cock and ride him.

You kept your palms on his chest to support yourself, head leaning to the side as you focused on taking him. He kept his touch on your thighs light now, since he didn't want to risk fucking anything about this perfect performance up.

A hand slipped from his chest and to your own needy clit- you gasped and let out a quiet moan, bucking a little at the feeling.

You had no idea how much you needed it. After his tongue, the grinding, and how he started matching your own preferred pace, that thrilling, pleasant strain deep inside of you grew at an irresponsible rate.

"That's--s' hot," He choked, eyes narrowed and glued to the sight of your swirling fingers.

"Hm?" You smiled and moved both hands to the sides of his head, mistaking his admission to mean a more general vibe.

His breath stalled with effort as he bottomed out and stayed there.

He guided your hand back and pressed it between your legs again.

You sat a bit up again so you could better chase that high, tingly with an acceptable amount of embarrassment of being watched like that. You were practically edging yourself at this point and his gaze was threatening to throw you off the edge.

Those massive, sweat-slicked hands filled once more with the plush of your hips. He was struggling to keep his eyes open to watch, but managed alright.

"You-gotta teach me,h-ah- sometime," His bottom lip caught between his teeth as his focus tunnelled on the filthy sight of his own rough hold and his cock sliding in and out of your cunt.

He was a fast learner. His strokes were less shaky now, and grew more confident by the second. It may have been partially due to the fact that he knew you could take him, which just drew him closer to orgasm.

You could ride and listen to him all day, if it wasn't for your own body's limited capacity for the way he was taking you.

"Why don't I--mmn! Teach- you- ah, now?" You made him look at you again, a favorite maneuver of yours now, only just barely clawing to a paper-thin veil of poise to torture him with, over a quickly approaching climax.

"'Cause, I'm gonna cum before I figure it o-ut," Tsukishima sigh-laughed and moved one hand to your lower back.

It brought you down to your elbows. From here, he could kiss you hard and hit at a deeper angle- it was messy and rough and uncalculated; astoundingly hot coming from him.

Tsukishima never let himself act that way. It was a telltale sign that he was coming completely undone.

That hold on your hips hardened, his nails digging into you as his groans gradually started turning into whines and curses.

"F-uck--! Mmn- ha-h-ah," He cried softly on your lips as he came, panting like a dog.

Those unabashed, vulnerable sounds seized your heart and your pussy, and soon you found yourself not close behind, thanks to the fact that he didn't stop fucking you even after he came.

Shaky fingers scratched at his neck and shoulders, clinging like a lifeline. White-hot waves crashed over you as he drowned the rest of your sounds in another sloppy, worshiping kiss.

The gym was so quiet when neither of you were making any noise.

There was the hum of cicadas outside, but not even the fans were turning. It was just your laden breathing in here.

Slowly, you were able to see more of him on the backend of that shared high. Your head buzzed with the comfort and warmth his body provided you. His heavy arms squeezed around your middle.

It looked like he was swimming in satisfaction with a familiar, smug smile on his lips and closed eyes.

"Mm, you gonna look at me, pretty boy?" You rubbed the laughable amount of sweat around on his tummy and chest.

A deep shade of red returned to his cheeks. You grinned.

"Pretty?" He repeated in a scoff.

He'd come to appreciate it more, because, "It's true. You are pretty."

Sure, he sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes, but he wouldn't be so embarrassed if he didn't see a little truth in it.

It was getting a bit cold, now that you weren't so worked up anymore.

"Shit...we've gotta clean this place up."

There was a quiet beat between you.

For a very slow and hesitant 30 seconds, you gripped the rim of the condom on his still rock-hard cock and slid off of him with a shudder. He remembered that maneuver for next time.

You climbed off of the mat and began putting on your clothes. The gym around you felt 300 times bigger than it actually was.

After figuring out how to take it off without getting drenched in his own cum, he tied it and observed the thing for a second. Then, he slid -yeah, slid- to the corner of the mat and stayed seated while he watched you get dressed.

Now you had even more to put away and wipe down, because Tsukishima left a 6 foot long pool of sweat on the mat. He wore a devious smirk.

"Since I'm the one competing in Nationals tomorrow, I think I'll just leave you to it--"

"You better get your lanky ass up right now," You swatted him with your shirt and he broke out into a playful grin as he heaved himself up and snatched it from you.

Now when he stood over you, it felt thrilling instead of threatening. He fixed the twist in your bra strap without looking away from your eyes.

He kept the shirt far out of your reach while he stole a kiss, "I'll help as long as you clean like this."

taglist:

TYSM FOR THE SUPPORT AND REPLIES!! the energy here was so great! requests are open!

@v15aexe @hotvinimon @cyzvx @aloveablechaos @kozumesphone

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[samsalami66]

And I'm back again with an addition to my Knight!Hob Prince!Dream au (I've decided to go with royal au for shortness' sake lmao) which you can find the first part of here.

Once again all the love and thanks to my wonderful @im-not-corrupted , who provided me with motivation and screams as I wrote this little drabble and is the #1 fan of this au.

-----

Dream hated audiences. 

Audiences meant spending an awful amount of time in his parents' presence, and even if nobody paid much attention to the third royal child in a line of seven, it was still painful to spend even a minute longer than necessary in the King's and Queen's presence. Dream could feel his father's disapproving gaze drift towards him every time his eyes would droop a bit too low, whenever his elbow would slip from where he had it propped on the armrest of his throne to hold his head upright, which felt heavier with every word the current Lord or Duke let spill from his lips. 

Lord Burgess, the man currently grazing the family with his abnormally boring presence, looked about ready to explode as the King once again denied his request for an addition to his land, which would allow him to hunt in the forest neighboring his crops. But the forests were strictly royal territory, and Dream could have told Lord Burgess in much fewer sentences than his father that they would never give up on ancestral lands, not in this lifetime or any other. 

But just as Dream's eyes were about to close to allow him another few moments of respite from this whole ordeal, sounds echoed through the halls outside the throne room. Voices got louder in volume and increasingly more frustrated the closer they got. It was a blessing, an escape from these confines of literal hell, and Dream perked up curiously to figure out what the tumult was about. 

Between the shouts and hisses he could make out a hysterical You can't just waltz in there! and a very joyful Watch me, mate! and Dream decided that this was bound to become a much more interesting audience than he had anticipated. And, true to the small exclamation Dream overheard, a man did just waltz into the room, a smile on his face that would cause even the strongest hearts to faint in charm. Dream didn't quite know how he managed not to, when bright brown eyes caught his over the entirety of the room in an instant, familiar mischief hidden somewhere behind the obvious amusement. 

Christ, those eyes had brought ruin upon Dream once already, years ago, when they had both been young and stupid. Though, by the looks of it, Hob Gadling had not cast that particular trait aside, if his entrance was anything to go by. Guards were hot on his heels, panic written all over their faces as they didn't manage to keep this man from interrupting a private audience with the royal family, which would surely end in them being excused from their service. 

But Hob Gadling seemed to care little for their steps behind him or the guards eventual fate, his stride purposeful, a clear destination in his step. Dream realised much too late what that destination was, too distracted by the way Hob's shirt clung to muscles that had not been there when they had last met, hair that was longer and curlier than he remembered and that framed a bearded jaw so beautifully Dream almost swooned. There was no time for that though, not when those eyes finally left his and were cast towards the ground, not ten meters away from Dream. 

Hob Gadling was kneeling, his head tilted in a bow that was entirely unnecessary for the position he was already in, in front of Dream. 

Not in front of the family, or the King himself, but before Dream's throne, an unmistakable message to everyone present, a showcasing of ultimate loyalty.

To his left Dream could hear Lord Burgess hiss in annoyance at the interruption, the words You dare to interrupt my audience, commoner? falling from his lips like venom-infused blood. Dream did not care for boneless threats. 

He merely cared for the smile stretched over rosy lips before him, the cheeks that stretched with unconcealed amusement. Two guards reached Hob Gadling's side, prepared to force the uninvited guest out the room, and it took all of Dream's years of carefully trained composure to not jump from his throne in a sudden surge of panic. 

"Leave him be!" he demanded, voice overshadowing any and all conversation as he slowly rose from his throne. Hob's grin turned victorious at the exclamation, his posture more relaxed where he knelt on the black carpet to Dream's feet. "I want to know what he has to say." 

There were eyes on him, Dream knew, those of his parents, those of Lord Burgess, those of his guards. He knew his eldest sister was hiding a smile somewhere to his left, fully aware of his and Hob Gadling's relationship, and the only person in this world aware of Dream's feelings towards this infuriating, obviously insane man. 

All the attention Dream had held with his command shifted towards Hob Gadling when he opened his mouth to speak, determination colouring his voice with self-confidence that vibrated through Dream's body like the pleasant rumble of a cat's purr. 

"I come to pledge myself to you, my Lord," Hob started, almost causing Dream to choke on thin air. "In body and in mind, I swear to protect you with my blade and life. Make me your knight, Dream of the Endless, so that I might serve under your name until I take my last breath, until my body betrays my desire to keep you from harm." 

There was no sound filtering through the pounding of Dream's heart in his throat. This – This, Hob's declaration, his offering of complete and utter submission – it was insane, completely crazy, simply not done, not in royal families, not in any politics around the world. One pledged themselves to the King and thereby the country, not to a prince who would never be king, an outcast from his own folk, from his own family. 

This wasn't done, had never been done before, and yet Dream found he didn't care. He didn't care for one single moment about propriety, not when all he had ever wanted kneeled before his feet and offered him Heaven. 

"I do not know who you believe yourself to be, but I will not allow-" The King started off, but Dream cut his reply short, his voice purposefully overpowering that of his father. 

"I accept your request." 

The answer wasn't grand or eloquent, entirely false in its deliverance, unofficial without the ritualistic knighting. But Dream was in a trance, his hand not his own as he stepped down the stairs to stand before Hob, one hand reaching to the hilt of the sword that was hidden beneath his robes. 

When Dream pulled the sword from its sheath and held it to Hob's head, all those eyes reflected back at him was trust, even when faced with total submission, with surrendering himself entirely to Dream, his office and his personal whims. All of this, when Dream had left him behind at the mere notion of friendship, knowing he could not be friends with a commoner. He could be friends with his personal guardian, with a Knight who stood entirely under his protection, and the fact that Hob had been willing to go to such lengths to find a way to be in Dream's presence… 

Well, if Dream felt tears build in his eyes as he allowed his sword to rest on Hob's shoulders, once on each, then that was between him and his Knight. And when his voice trembled slightly as he spoke next, then that was just between them too. 

"Rise, Sir Robert Gadling." 

Dream huffed a silent laugh into the hug he was pulled in next, the excitement bubbling in his chest enough to chase away every ill thought of his parents' opinion as he burrowed his face in Hob's neck. 

The sense of safety he felt in the arms of his oldest friend was almost too much to bear. 

[jasntodds]

Caving In [12]

Pairing: Gar Logan x Fem!Powered!Reader, Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 10,267

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, angst, hurt/comfort, blood, lots of feelings of guilt amongst Jason, Reader, and Gar, I’m asking you all to have faith in me for a minute lmao, Jason Todd is sad™️, there’s an author’s note at the very end with who the endgame is if you’re curious lol

Summary: ❝Tell me Atlas: What is heavier, The world or its people’s hearts?❞ You never expected your life to end up this way, turned upside down by an infamous Gotham villain. It’s been a living hell, every single day, until Dick Grayson brings you to Titans tower where you meet Gar Logan and Jason Todd.

A/N: Look, I love this chapter. I’ve had it picking at my brain since I started writing this. I love a vulnerable Jason Todd idk lol I am easily motivated to post more often when I get feedback 😂 You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary​ and turn on notifications if you prefer that!!

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

You hear Jason scream and your entire world crumbles in that instant. Kory rushes over to you, and you almost don’t notice her. The breath is gone from your lungs and a lump forms instantly your throat. Your arms go weak and you swear the only reason you don’t slip is because your hands are impaled. Kory grabs you though, and pulls you into the window, Dick sliding over to help. You sit for a second, letting your hands bleed onto the ground under you as your legs are bent and pulled up to your chest.

You failed.

“Come on.” Dick is kneeling in front of you, a hand on your elbow to help you up. “We gotta go.”

“I-I-I-I-” You choke on a whine, tears brimming your eyes. “I couldn’t…I couldn’t save him.” You lock eyes with Dick and his heart is broken for you but Jason’s alive.

“Someone caught him.” Dick’s words are slow and you think he’s lying. Jason is human and couldn't survive a fifteen story fall.

“None of the Titans can fly.” Your voice is a broken whisper.

“Wasn’t a Titan.” Dick adds. “Come on.” He grabs one of your elbows while Kory grabs the other one to help you up. “We have to get out of here.” Dick pulls you with him, he’s worried maybe you won’t follow him if he’s not dragging you along.

The three of you, quickly, make your way through the building. You still think Dick is lying because you understand you need to leave because Dick and Kory didn’t take down Deathstroke. He escaped and he’s out there. There’s no way he’s just done. Not with Rose still at the tower. You think Dick is lying to get you all out of the building and everything is a mix of pain and numbness. It’s the worst cocktail ever poured down your throat.

The numbness clouds your bones. It’s somehow so painful and painless. That’s the thing about being numb. It doesn’t always mean pain-free. It lingers and covers you like a black cloud of doom, just looming over you but never doing anything. It taunts you, stalks you. You’ve felt like this before and it’s so hard. It’s so painful. It's paralyzing.

The three of you exit the building and Dick is first to start running, followed by Kory. You drag your feet as your breathing is ragged. Everything seems to be going in slow motion. You reach the front of the car that Dick and Kory ran behind and there’s Jason. Your heart stops in your chest and everything freezes for just a second. Jason gets to his feet and he’s okay. Given everything, he is, for the most part, physically okay and you have never felt more relieved about anything in your entire life.

You sprint to him and collide into him like a tidal wave at full force, wrapping your arms around his neck. Jason nearly collapses from the impact, the car being the only thing keeping him on his feet. Jason lets out a breath and takes just a second before wrapping his arms around you as tightly as he can because he swears you’ll disappear if he doesn’t.

This hug is the most cathartic thing he has ever experienced and Jason is not a hugger. But, he can’t help it right now because you’re crying into him and you’re alive and you’re okay and he’s alive. And at least right now, you don’t hate him for him being the reason you were basically dropped from a skyscraper and he never wants to let go of you. He wants to live in his exact moment forever, his eyes closed and his arms wrapped so tight around you, Dick would have to pry him away from you with a crowbar.

Dick looks up from mending the strange man that saved Jason, someone you didn’t even notice, and looks at Jason and you. You arms are wrapped tightly around his neck while Jason’s arms are wrapped around your waist, his hands holding his own forearms. Jason buries his face into the crook of your neck and Dick remembers that night he caught you both in the bathroom together. And the night he caught you both training and he remembers how Jason told him about Jerry.

The first words that came out of his mouth when Dick picked up the phone were “it’s not her fault.”. Jason threw himself in front of the bus Dick was driving to try to protect you that night. He took the blame and he never told you about it. It’s why you were so mad when Dick pointed the finger at Jason. You took the blame that night in the sparring room and Dick is watching you both feeling like maybe there’s something to the two of you, you’re a little bit of chaos together, sure. But he’s never seen Jason look so content and after something like this, Dick expects Jason to lose it but he’s just hugging you with everything in him. But, he feels bad because he knows this night will change everything between the two of you. The relief of being alive will wear off and something will shift. 

You pull away, just enough to get a look at his face, as if making sure he’s really here. His eyes are dark behind the mask as they move over your face. The whites of his eyes are bloodshot but he looks relieved. You’ve never felt panic like you did with him falling. Heights, foster care, the streets, none of it even competed with that feeling. You were so certain if he died, you’d be devasted, it would destroy you. You were so certain of it before but now, you know that without a doubt, that would be it. That would be the thing that finally shattered you into slivers of glass that can’t be glued together. Everything else that’s happened, adding the death of Jason onto that, would be it. Because you adore him with every bone in your body. So, for the first time, you commit to it.

You place your fingers on his jaw, trying to avoid touching him with your palms, and bring his lips to yours. Jason freezes. He doesn’t move, he tenses up completely because not in his wildest dreams did he ever think you’d ever commit to it. It was always jokes and banter, he swore you’d never do anything about it. Jason swore he was the second choice for you. That’s why you’d forfeit the game, save his feelings if he decided to keep it going. He never thought it’d get here and then a beat passes and he relaxes into you, squeezing you closer to him. His world stops and it all goes quiet.

The guilt riddled in his blood and bones and veins evaporates. The constant voice in his head, blaming him for everything horrible that’s ever happened has finally shut up. It’s gone to hide in the shadows and it’s quiet. The weight on his shoulders is gone and his heart doesn’t feel like it’s being crushed by an elephant. Despite it all, despite tonight, in spite of tonight, you kissed him. And for the first time in a long time, Jason Todd does not feel like damaged goods.

The world spins for you the second you feel Jason squeeze you. Everything spins and you can’t hear the other Titans coming up from behind you, questioning the strange man. You don’t hear the helicopter above you or the cars still passing by on the street. Everything goes silent around you while your stomach jumps into your throat. You kind of thought Jason didn’t want you to commit to it. He tossed you the ball and hoped you’d play, but he never asked. But, he’s pulling you closer and relaxing under you touch, unbothered by the blood that’s definitely getting on his face and it was never a game. You’re so sure of that, it was never a game to him and it wasn’t to you. Your heart beats for this boy against you like it’s never had a purpose before.

Jason pulls away first, resting his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he takes a breath. It’s like this is the first full breath he’s taken all night. And you can feel it. Jason Todd thinks he’s hard to love and hard to care about but right now, you swear it’s the easiest thing you’ve ever done. Despite everything and every bad decision you both make, caring about him the easiest thing you’ve ever done. Caring about him is like breathing, effortless and easy. I’s always there tugging at the bottom of your heart and echoing in the back of your head, silently like calming sound of a soft rain again the window.

“You're alive.” Your voice is fragile against him.

“So are you.” Jason's words are soft as he opens his eyes. “You held on.”

“You let go.” You whisper and you’re so thankful he let go.

“I had to.” Jason pulls away just enough to fully look at you. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“I know.” You nod your head quickly and you move your hands down to his shoulders, getting a look at the blood on his face. “Thank you for saving my life, Jay.”

Jason nods at you and he gets why Gar gets touchy-feely. There are a million things he wants to say to you but he can’t get his voice to work and he doesn’t know if he should say any of it. He doesn’t know how. So, he just pulls you into a tighter hug again because that’s the only way he can express how he’s feeling. He saved your life tonight by letting go of you but what you don’t know is that you saved his life tonight, too. You saved him because if it weren’t for you, he would have fought so fucking hard against Deathstroke and Dr. Light, they would have had no choice but to kill him. Jason doesn’t give up that easily but you’re a reason worth living for, you’re that person worth protecting to him. You don’t know it, but you saved his life, too.

“I’m sorry I got blood on you.” You whisper to him, grabbing your sleeve to try and wipe it off without smearing more blood on him.

“It’s alright, don’t worry about it.” Jason shakes his head at you and if you keep this up, he’s sure you’ll have his blood on you at some point. It’s bound to happen at this rate.

"Hey, guys." Kory calls, getting your attention and this time, neither of you step away from each other like you would have yesterday. "Come on, we have to get back to the tower." Kory jerks her head towards the black SUV while Dick and Hank are lifting the strange man's arms over their shoulders to help him up.

Jason and you nod at her, finally pulling away from each other. The two of you follow the Titans to the car, getting into the third row with Kory. The car is completely packed but none of you are willing to complain about that small detail right now. Instead, Dick starts driving while Kory has a look at your hands, using the dome light to have a look. She can't see much given the bad lighting and blood everywhere, unfortunately.

Meanwhile, you ask about the guy and Jason explains that he came out of nowhere, midair, and caught him, that’s it. But, you catch the lack of excitement in his voice that would normally be there. He’s flat and dry, distant. And you get it. To say tonight sucked, would be an understatement.

Everything is starting to settle in Jason's bones. The adrenaline is starting to crash and he feels the weight creep back over him, inch by inch. The darkness migrates from the shadows of his head to the very front, damaging every thought that pops into his head. The kiss with you, scared the darkness away but now he’s in silence, putting himself in his own bubble and thinking about every single thing that happened tonight. The weight almost feels too heavy.

The rest of the ride is quiet but the air is the car is stiff. It's as if tiy and Jason can feel all of them wanting to yell at you at the same time but they're managing to bite their tongues for the drive. But, you're both thankful for the silence anyway. It does, however, worry you for Jason to be so quiet and have nothing to say about anything. Not to harass Dick about failing tonight or about him dropping Jason. Jason is silent as he stares out of his window. And you’re worried.

Once you get back to the tower, you and Jason are the last to leave the elevator with your heads hung. The other Titans take the strange man off to the infirmary to try and help him. You look over at Jason as he's limping with every step.

“Meet me in the bathroom, okay?” You ask. “Your leg.”

Jason glances at you. “Yeah, alright.” He nods and decides to not to fight it.

Yes, he saved your life but the adrenaline of it all is wearing off and is being clouded by guilt. He saved you but you shouldn’t have been in that position in the first place. At the end of the day, he still failed. This was his chance to prove himself and instead, he got kidnapped, tortured, and then dropped from a skyscraper. Every minute that passes, adds ten pounds to his shoulders and it’s crushing him. He’s supposed to be Robin but he couldn’t even take out a lightbulb.

Gar is the first to greet you and Jason, rushing over to you and hugging you both at the same time. You turn your hands, palm up to hug him back and Jason pats Gar’s back. The both of you feel a bit of relief to have Gar hug you. And then you both feel worse all over again because you just put Gar through hell. The helicopter was likely the news meaning it was probably live and Gar was probably watching it. At least you and Jason were together, knowing what was going on. Gar was stuck here with radio silence from you. And you both swear the guilt from it might eat you whole.

“I’m so glad you guys are okay.” Gar rushes his words as he pulls away, seeing blood on your clothes, Jason’s suit, neck, and jawline. “I mean…are you guys….okay?”

You look to your hands. “It’s fine. I’m fine, Gar. Thanks.” You nod at him and give him the weakest smile he’s ever seen.

“It’s mostly hers.” Jason states, his voice still flat. “I’m gonna change.”

You and Gar watch Jason limp off and Gar looks back to you with furrowed brows. Jason is hurt and Jason doesn’t get hurt. Of course, Gar expects you both to be traumatized and weird but not…quiet. Jason is never quiet and you look like you’re holding your breath.

“Deathstroke carved the tracker out of his leg.” Your voice is sad and hushed.

Gar's eyes widen and it feels like he’s being stabbed in the chest again. “Seriously?”

You nod. “Yeah…so, um…” You swallow thickly. “I’m gonna meet him in the bathroom and help him clean it. I just…I think we need to talk about tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah, no I get it.” Gar nods his head, understanding why you and Jason would want to talk about everything. He has to be patient. “I’m really, really happy you’re okay.”

You see the worry lines and you think they might be permanent now, because of you and Jason. “Yeah, me, too. I’m really glad you weren’t there.” You say quietly. “I’ll catch up later.” You cut it short because if you keep talking to Gar you’ll lose it and you can’t lose it, not yet.

You go right into the bathroom and get out the medical supplies. You wash and wrap your hands haphazardly with gauze. You’re not all that concerned about yourself and really just wants to help Jason. This isn’t about you because it can’t be. This is going to take time to recover from mentally and you know that but that’s thing. You’ve been through it and while it is unfathomable to have gone through it twice, you’ll get better from it because you did before. And tonight was not for you, it was always for Jason who wants nothing more in the world to be the best Robin. He let himself down and you can’t let him do that to himself. You need to shelve how you’re feeling for him. You can break over it later.

“I can do this in my own, ya know that?” Jason asks as he stands in the doorway.

You look to him, now in a pair of shorts and a black t-shirt. You can see the gash on his leg that’s deep, blood stains go down his thigh. “I know.” You state as you look back to him. “But, you cleaned up my hands last time, so sit your ass down, Jay.” You try to give him some snark but you can feel that your tone failed.

“Whatever you say, bOsS.” Jason mocks how you’d normally respond if he were you.

“Ha-ha.” You roll your eyes but give him a smile.

Jason hops on the counter of the sink, putting his hands behind him. He doesn’t like to deal with this stuff. It makes him feel too exposed but after tonight, he can’t very well be more exposed to you. And it’s you, it’s different with you. It doesn’t feel all that scary and you want to help. Jason would do anything you told him right now.

You get a wash rag, soaking it before starting to clean his wound. Jason hisses as you touch it. “Sorry.” You mutter, trying to be more gentle.

“It’s fine.” Jason lets out a breath, seeing the gauze in your hands that looks like a complete mess. “How’re your hands?”

“Oh,” You pause for a second before continuing. “Fine, they don’t hurt really and they’re barely bleeding.” You lie, trying to brush it off for Jason's sake.

Jason nods. If it weren’t for everything else that happened that night, he wouldn’t be feeling too guilty about your hands. It would just have been an accident of trying to save you both, which it was. But given everything that happened, he blames himself because it’s about the injury you sustained tonight because of him. It was his idea for you to melt the glass and that’s what lead you to fall onto the shards. Deathstroke beat you up and now you have cuts on your hands and he’s blaming himself for it.

You glance up to him, the distant look in his eyes haunting you. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” His voice is stern this time.

“It’s okay if you’re not. You were just dropped fifteen stories.” You state as you clean the dried blood around his thigh.

“I’m fucking fine.” Jason huffs. “I can do this myself if you’re gonna fucking badger me, alright?”

He’s completely fine, except for the fact that he feels like he’s still falling, the pain in his leg, his hands shaking, his arms feeling like they’ll fall off at any moment, the whole thought that he’s a failure, and the guilt that’s eating him from the inside out. He’s completely fine, besides all of that.

“Fuck,” You let out a scoff. “I’m just saying that it’s okay if you’re not, alright?” You glance up to him and his eyes are trained on the wall in front of him, glossy and it breaks a part of you. You look back down at his leg. “It’s normal. It’s okay. You don’t have to be fine around, Jay.” Your voice goes quiet. “It’s you and me, okay?” You look up to him and Jason’s eyes just barely glance in your direction as if looking at you makes it real. “I’m not fine, for the record. Nightmares will definitely be coming back in full force but ya know, you told me to talk about shit. I did and it does help. You know that and I know that. So.” You suck in a breath and you want Jason to talk because he has to be okay.

“I’m sorry, alright?” Jason huffs. “I’m not trying to be an asshole, it’s just,” He pauses. “It’s my fault, alright? And it fucking sucks.”

“It’s not your fault.” You shake your head as you continue to clean the wound.

Jason scoffs, shaking his head as if to not believe you. “Right, just my dumbass idea, right?”

“No,” Your voice is soft as you ditch the rag in the sink and reach for a few butterfly stitches, wishing you knew how to do proper stitches because Jason probably needs them. “It’s not. I was mad.” You feel the guilt wash into your blood. “You called me useless.”

“I didn’t mean it.” Jason’s words are rushed and he finally looks down at you fully. The guilt coats his stomach like cement. “I’m really sorry.”

“No, I know.” You nod at him, but don’t keep your eyes on him, getting the sense he doesn’t want you looking at him very long. “We say these in high-stress situations that we don’t mean.” You state. “It sucks but it happens. I didn’t mean it and you didn’t mean. It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, it fucking is.” Jason groans, not wanting to talk about it anymore. “Can’t you pick any other topic?”

“It’s not and I will tell you that every single day until you believe me.” You ignore the question because you know he’s going to drown himself in his own guilt if you don’t get him to listen to you.

You’ll suck up your fear of heights and scream it from the rooftops if he needs you to. This isn’t his fault and you will do everything and anything to get him to believe you. You can’t let him drown himself. You can’t lose him.

“I got you kidnapped, beat up again, and dropped from a fucking skyscraper.” His eyes are narrowed at you but his voice is pleading. It’s as if he’s pleading and begging for you to put the blame on him. Let this be his fault. He deserves it. He’ll never forgive himself for it. Jason huffs. “If I would have just….fucking listened and stayed behind, none of this would have fucking happened.”

“We.” You correct him and he quirks a brow at you. “We, had we listened but there were three of us who didn’t. So, it’s not your fault.”

Jason thinks you’re just trying to make him feel better. How isn’t this his fault? Everything about tonight came down to the decisions he made. Maybe had he just escaped instead of helping you, he could have brought to the Titans to where Deathstroke was and saved you from the rest of the night. Had he been faster, maybe you both could have escaped. If he could have escaped the restraints on the building, he could have gotten you to melt the window faster and you would have been saved. This is his fault, every single way he looks at it. It is.

“Yes, it fucking is and you don’t have to fucking baby me trying to make me feel better.” Jason barks and you pause again, eying him. “This is on me, okay? I had one fucking job and I fucking failed at it.” Jason’s voice cracks.

“We all fuck up, Jason.” You keep your voice calm and kind.

“Not like this.” The tip of his nose starts to turn pink. “I could have gotten you, Dick, and Kory killed tonight. Being Robin is the best thing that’s fucking happened to me and I fucked that up, too.” Jason sucks in a ragged breath and he just can’t take it. The night is too much and it’s all overflowing like a dam after a hurricane. “It’s my fault, Y/n.”

You shake your head. “You are a great fucking Robin and you know I wouldn’t tell you that if I didn’t mean it. You have saved people. Tonight was just…a lot. Deathstroke was just better than all of us. We never stood a chance.”

“We should have though!” Jason argues. “I fuck everything up. I touch anything and it just gets messed up over and over again. It’s like I’m fucking cursed.” Tears brim in his eyes.

It breaks your heart to hear that’s how he views himself. He doesn’t deserve it and you want to hunt down every single person that has ever made him feel this way.

“It’s….it’s fucking heavy, alright?” Jason lets out a breath and he hates this. He hates feeling useless and weak and vulnerable. He hates it all and he wants to leave and run but he doesn’t. “It’s all my fault and I have to live with it.”

“Put it on me.” You state, similarly to what he did to you that night at Jerry’s and Jason’s brows raise. “You wanna blame someone? Blame me. That’s fine. I will carry it for you, Jay.” You start placing the butterfly stitches carefully. “You carry it for me and I carry it for you, okay?” Jason shakes his head and he opens his mouth to argue but you start first. “You do it for me, right?” Jason nods. “Okay, let me do it for you. You know I, uh, don’t read but I can read to you if it’ll help. I’ll do whatever you want me to to help you. I promise, I can carry it.”

It simmers in his stomach and in his chest. His chest burns, aching with the offer because maybe it’s the nicest thing someone’s ever said to him. But he can’t let her take that blame. It’s a heavy thing to carry and for him, no less.

“Not your responsibility.” He tries to make his voice sound stern but it comes out broken.

You can't tell if this is one of his self-sabotaging things, where he pushes and pushes and pushes the argument until the other person literally gives up. Or, he fights and fights, trying to get someone to agree with his haunted thoughts or say something worse about him because he thinks he deserves it. You don't know if it's self-sabotage or if he's genuinely having that hard of a time believing you. But, either way, you feel this anger bubble in your stomach because how could the world have the nerve to treat him so poorly that you're even having this conversation right now?

People give up on him. It’s what they do. Jason pushes those people away because he doesn’t deserve the help. He pushes them away because if he pushes and pushes and pushes, they eventually leave. They give up and no one is ever up to the task to really, ever, truly help him even through his shit. No one ever sees through his shit and then there’s you. You see through him like cellophane. He is transparent and it makes him want to explode. No one sees him for him but you do. It’s just him and you.

“I need you to listen to me.” You cup his cheeks and Jason gets a good look at the fat lip and black eye this time. “You are one of my favorite people on this planet and I am not giving up on you. You can push all the fuck you want, Jason Todd but I’m gonna be up your ass every fucking day until I die. I give a very big fuck about you, okay? You do not deserve to blame yourself. You do not deserve what happened tonight, okay? You are good enough, Jay.” Your eyes are locked on his and your voice is unwavering. It is stern and solid but lacking harshness. It’s breaking you seeing him like this and Jason can tell. But, he’s never seen anyone, ever like this with him. If anyone else had ever said any of that, he isn’t sure he’d believe them but he believes you. But, he has one last argument because that's what he does. Push until he can't push anymore.

“Not to Dick or Bruce.”

“Fuck them! You’re good enough to me, Jay.” Your voice breaks with the last sentence, your brows are knitted together and your breathing is slightly ragged. Your eyes are rimmed with tears and Jason can't argue anymore. That’s enough for him.

He nods against your hands. “Okay.”

Your eyes scan over his face, as if making sure he’s not just saying that to get you to stop. You nods. “When you can’t sleep, you’ll come to me, right?”

“Yeah,” Jason nods his head once more. “You do the same, then, right?”

You nod. “Yeah.” You normally go to Gar but this is too much. He’s had so many nights awake with you because of nightmares and Jason was there this time. If you can’t sleep, you’ll go to him this time because at least you’ll be together in your guilt.

“Thanks.” Jason states, “For everything.”

You give him a smile. “I’d do anything for you, Jason Todd.”

You moves your hands from his face and wrap your arms around his neck. You pull him in for a tight hug. His arms wrap around your waist and he buries his head into your neck because this is cathartic. You help him breathe again. When it feels like the air is being ripped from his lungs, you push it all back in. He’ll never be able to repay you for it.

And because of that, he knows he can’t say anything about how he feels about you. It’s silly to think about that right now but he does. He does because he adores you and that is the one thing he is certain about. But, tonight, he almost got you killed. You’re begging him to blame you because you worry too much about him. If he told you and you made that decision to follow him into the dark, he’d never forgive himself if he ruined you. You’re worried about ruining Gar and Jason is worried about ruining you. But, he can keep you in a safe distance, friends. Keep everything else silent between you because Gar is good. Gar is careful and safe and protective. Gar is everything Jason Todd is not. Jason swears his best friend is better for you and you’re better for him. So, he swallows the thunder in his chest and bites the sour taste of silence.

You pull away and nod at him. “Thank you again for saving my life.”

Jason smiles softly at you. “Yeah, you’re welcome.” Jason clears his throat, glancing to your hands and then back to you. “Switch with me.” Jason jerks his head up while you take a step back. “You did a shit job with your hands.” Jason scoffs as he hops off the counter. “I’ll do it.”

You give him a tender smile. “Was a little too worried about you to focus on it.” You shrug but do as he asks and get on the counter.

“You don’t have to worry about me.” Jason assures you, taking one of your hands in his and unwraps the botched gauze job.

“Always gonna.” You quip.

Jason lets out a huff as he gets the gauze off, this time getting a good look at your hands. Your hands are practically shredded, still bleeding. He can see some of the muscle through one of the large cuts and it twists his stomach in a knot. He is not squeamish but it’s you and it’s your hands. He shakes his head and moves to the other hand.

"Doesn't really hurt." You clear your throat, seeing the look on Jason's face.

"Yeah, okay." Jason scoffs. "Who's bullshitting now?"

"Well," You let out a chuckle. "I'm not bullshitting, doesn't really hurt which, uh, probably isn't good, right?"

Jason looks up at you, still holding your hand and he pauses for just a second. "Might just be adrenaline. You should be fine." Jason reassures you.

"How's your hearing?"

"Sounds like I got a gallon of water lodged in my damn ear." Jason huffs but there's a smile tugging at his lips.

"Here." You say as Jason finishes unwrapping your hand and you grab a wash rag.

You rinse it under warm water and motion for Jason to come closer. He does as asked without hesitation, standing between in your legs. Jason dodges eye contact while you move his head so you can see his right ear. There's a heavy blood streak down the side of his neck. You aren't sure exactly how hard he was hit or if he was hit more than once after he was knocked out but by the blood, you assumed it's not good and he was hit a little too hard. But you don't badger him, you just take the warm rag and start to clean the blood down his neck.

Jason's jaw clenches with the movement and he's never had anyone take care of him, not like this. Bruce and Alfred showed him how to clean his cuts and wounds properly, but it was never this. They mostly told him what to do, which was also partially because Jason wouldn't let them actually help even when they did offer. This is so new to him and a part of him doesn't mind. It feels nice being taken care of and because of that, he feels a little uncomfortable. It makes his jaw clench and he straightens his stance just a little. When he does, you’re more gentle and slower.

That's the thing, you can read him. You knows Jason has never had the privilege of having someone do this for him, but he doesn't have to do it on his own anymore, so you’re slow. You don't want to scare him off. She's gentle and careful with him.

"I got it all." Your voice is quiet as you pull the rag away.

Jason finally looks at you and he struggles so much because he just cares so much about you. He doesn't deserve your tenderness or your care. He doesn't deserve you but he can't bring himself to pull away either. Instead, he rests his forehead against yours and takes just a few seconds to breathe.

Your heart stutters in your chest. You never thought Jason would be the one to move closer. Especially right now. There is no banter here, just care for the other. It's soft and gentle. Quiet. The room is quiet and your head is quiet. Your eyes close and you swear you feel so at home. You don't feel that weight on your bones like you usually do. You feel...happy. Right here, right now, with Jason. But, this is just a moment and you cannot live in this moment forever.

Jason squeezes his eyes before pulling away and going back to her hands. "I'm sorry." He clears his throat. "We gotta talk about that kiss." His eyes are tired and red. "I can't. I'm sorry." Jason glances to you and then to your hands again. "Please don't hate me." There's an innocence in his voice with the request.

"I could never hate you." You let out a sigh. "I get it, it's okay." You assure him.

You want to ask why, after all the jokes and banter and his reaction to you kissing him, you know it's more than a game. You want to know why he can't and not because you’re offended or mad, but because you’re worried this is another way for Jason to self-sabotage. The two of you are very similar. You have a lot in common and you think similarly. But, one of your main differences in how you react to good things and people. Jason pushes until they leave, sometimes it doesn't even take much. And you, you've been told your entire life you’re a flight risk even when you try not to be. But, right now, with Jason, you don't want to run from it. Not now. So, you find it in yourself to ask.

"Can I ask why though?" Your words are slow, etched with hesitance.

"I'm fucked up." There's a hopelessness in his voice.

"So am I." You shrug and you’re not convincing him, just stating something that should be obvious.

"Okay, we're both a fucking  mess and that's not fair to either us." Jason shrugs his shoulders and maybe he is self-sabotaging a little. "You like Gar anyway, I'm kind of into Rose." His voice turns nonchalant as he tries his best to brush it off.

It's more than all of that. It's that you would die for him and he would never let you. He can't let you. It's that he's seen you through this terrible, horrible shit and he knows what happens when he gets involved. More terrible, horrible shit. Jason is aware that he is reckless and impulsive. He has no intention on stopping, it's how he is. It's rooted so deep in his blood, he can't imagine not being reckless or impulsive. He's also Robin, even if Bruce doesn't want him to be right now. He is. With all that, he might die one day because of it. Bruce hasn't and Dick hasn't, but he might. He doesn't get it, but that would be another terrible, horrible thing you would have to suffer through. At least, if you're friends, maybe it won't hurt so bad when it does happen.

Jason Todd believes he poisons everyone around him, he will not poison you. Not you.

"Yeah, that's true." You clear your throat and decide to drop the conversation. He's right and you know that. It's not worth discussing further. "I get it." You assure him. "We okay then?" You offer him the fakest smile you’ve ever given.

"Yeah, of course." Jason gives you a weak smile as he finishes wrapping your hands properly.

"Gonna get some rest?"

He shakes his head. "Nah, I'm gonna train a bit."

"You're insane." You let out a laugh and you laugh but you’re worried about him training.

"You did the same shit." Jason chuckles, the warm chuckle fills his chest but there’s a hollowness in it.

"Yeah, that was different.” You defend, eyes squinting slightly at him. “Can I stop you?"

Jason shakes his head. "Nope." Jason sucks in a breath. "I'm fine, alright? I won't train hard." Jason's voice is mocking as he forces a grin onto his face.

"I'll kick your ass if you do. I can do that now." You hold your head up high.

"In your fucking dreams, babe." Jason quips and for a second, it feels normal because it came out with ease.

"You wish I were dreaming about you, shithead." You mocks and it gets Jason to laugh again.

"You wish." Jason chortles and backs away so you can get off the counter. "Thanks for helping."

You smile softly at him and nods. "Yeah, of course."

"Meet up later?" Jason asks as he walks towards the door.

"Ya know where to find me." You let out a gentle laugh as you look to the ground and back to him.

"Alright." Jason nods at you before exiting the bathroom, his heart weighing heavily in his chest.

With Jason gone, the strength you had starts fleeting. The smile falls and your heart plummets. Your eyes burn and water as you clean up the supplies. You work as fast as you can so you can get back to your room and shut the door, shut the whole tower out for a few minutes.

When you get back to your room, you’re so quick that you accidentally slam the door but can't be bothered to even notice. You walk over to the table you have against the window, a sketchbook and liners scattered about the top. You place your hands on the surface and sucks in a ragged breath. Your chest feels like it's going to cave in and tears spill from your eyes. Her head hangs and you’re so tired of the pain. Being strong for Jason wasn't easy but it had to be done. You had to because he was going to fall apart. If you fall apart in front of him, because of him, he will lose it and you couldn't let that happen. But now you’re alone and you’re reminded and haunted about being kidnapped twice and beaten and almost fucking murdered. You were dropped from a skyscraper and you’re just supposed to live with that forever.

"Y/n?" Gar's voice pulls you from your thoughts.

You shake your head. "Go away, Gar." Your voice breaks as you sniffle.

Gar's brows furrow and his heart breaks. He can see you shaking and hear you crying. He's worried about you in the same way you’re worried about Jason. The last time you flew off the deep end, you went after Jerry. What if you go after Deathstroke? He kidnapped you and tried to kill you. It wouldn't be too far-fetched for you to do that and Gar can't lose you. He swears that he can't lose you and the guilt starts gnawing at the pit of his stomach, the voice in the back of his head is howling at him. This has to be on him, too because he never should have let it happen. He's supposed to protect the people he cares about.

"Are you okay?" Gar asks, taking a step forward.

"Go away!" You let out a sob, gritting your teeth with your eyes slammed shut. You can't do it right now.

"I'm not gonna do that." Gar's voice is quiet as he steps closer to you.

"Please, I can't..." You let out a cough. "I can't do this right now, okay?" You keep your back to him and your legs feel weak. The night has sucked all of the energy out of you like a black hole.

"I'm worried about you." Gar's voice cracks and that's it.

You let out a wail that sends a dagger through Gar's heart. He nearly shuts his eyes with the sound as if that will damper the noise. Your legs start to give out and Gar is quick to move behind you, wrapping his arms around you. The two of you go to the floor, you holding onto his arms tightly as you sob. Gar squeezes you in his lap, holding back his own tears as he rocks you back and forth slowly.

It's a tidal wave that finally pulls you under. There is only so much one person can take and you are at the end of your rope. This wasn't supposed to happen. You’re traumatized and scared and tired. You’re fucking exhausted and you want to let the water in, let it take the air from your lungs where you can finally feel relief because it's all just too much. The guilt glooms over you like the Reaper and you know you can't live with him staring back at you, a cruel reminder that you’re the reason you almost lost your best friend tonight.

If you were faster, if you were stronger, if you were more focused, if you didn't care so much about him, if you weren't so fucking scared, it all would have went differently. The Reaper will haunt you more than Deathstroke, more than Jerry because this one time, this is on you. This is your fault and when you tell Jason to put it on you it's because you believe, truly, that this is your fault. If anyone deserves to be haunted for it, if anyone deserves to drown, it's you. So, you sob and break as Gar holds you as close to him as possible and tell you over and over and over again that it's okay.

Gar left your door open and now Dick is standing in the doorframe watching. All he can see is Gar's back to him, rocking back and forth with you sobbing in his arms. Dick was just on his way back from the straining room where Jason has his leg bandaged and is still kicking and punching his way around the training room. He isn't pulling his punches, he's just training and training and training. He was on his way here to check on you and now he's witnessing something absolutely crushing.

He expected you to be not good, to say the least, but outright completely breaking wasn't what he expected. Jason is going to train himself into the ground and you’re having a mental breakdown and Gar is right in the middle of the two of you. This night did more than break the three of you because Dick is watching all of this happen to the three of you that he took in. The three of you he's been training. And part of this is on him. He's worried he'll end up losing all three of you in one sweep. He's supposed to be better than this and the only thing he can do is walk away because he can't say or do anything to make this easier for any of you.

"He dropped us." You whimper against Gar, ragged breaths leaving your lips.

"I know." Gar whispers to you. "I saw it." His voice breaks and he hates himself for it. He's supposed to be strong for you but he can't.

You shoot forward and look at him with horror. "What? What the fuck do you mean you saw it?" Your words are jumbled together, your face soaked in her own tears. You figured he did because of course they would have the news on, but it’s shocking and devasting to have the confirmation anyway.

Gar nods, his eyes haunted. "It was on the news."

You swing your arms around his shoulders and more tears leak from your eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"No, it's not your fault." Gar pulls away so he can look at your face. "It's not."

"You shouldn't have had to see that and--"

"Stop." Gar cuts you off. "It's okay. I'm okay." Gar lies and he's not okay. The sight of watching two of his favorite people get dropped fifteen stories will haunt him for the rest of his life.

"It's not okay." You whine. "It's not because you saw it. Because I should have done something. I could have and I didn't. We got kidnapped and beat up and Jason got fucking tortured and it's all my fucking fault, Gar." You let out another sob. "And Dick picked Jason."

There's a lot to unpack but you have the rest of the night so Gar picks one thing at a time. "What do you mean Dick picked Jason?"

"We were hanging there and Dick picked Jason to save." The cry that leaves your lips this time is so fragile, Gar thinks if he breathes too heavily it'll tear.

You know that picking Jason was possibly a smarter option. You actually get it because if it were Dick and Jason, you would have picked Jason, too. You know you can't possibly hold that against him because Jason was further down than you were. You could have pulled yourself up, you’re strong enough. Saving Jason was a priority and you know that but right now, with the weight of the world on your shoulders, it hurts.

It hurts because Dick didn't pick you. Dick didn't save you. He could have and he didn't. And he should have. In some way, Dick should have been able to save both of you because he was supposed to be Robin but he didn't. It doesn’t matter that Kory was there because you and Jason are Dick’s responsibility. And it hurts so bad you want your heart to stop beating because if it stops, maybe the pain will stop, too.

How is Gar supposed to respond to that? Call Dick an asshole? Maybe that's what you want to hear, he just can't tell. You’re logical, you understand why people do the things they do, usually. So, he knows, that somewhere inside that broken heart of yours, he knows you get it. So, he won't blame Dick.

"I'm so sorry, Y/n." Gar says quietly because apologizing might work better than putting blame on people.

"I get it, ya know?" You let out a cough and a ragged breath. "I get it because I would have saved Jason, too but it hurts anyway because I could have died again and it's just not fucking fair and Gar it fucking hurts." You sob once more, putting your hands over your face. "Make it stop, please." The word please shatters every piece of Gar. No amount of superglue is going to put him back together after that.

"Come here." Gar moves your hands from your face because he needs to do something, you don’t deserve to feel like this. "You're gonna be okay." Gar nods at you, cupping your face in his hands just as you did for Jason. "It's gonna hurt and I wish I could make it stop but I can't." Gar states, watching the tears fall from your eyes as your chin quivers. "But, it's not your fault, okay? You did everything you could. Deathstroke was just ahead of you guys the whole time. He was ahead of the other Titans, too."

"I should have been able to save us." You whimper.

Gar shakes his head. "You did everything you could and that's good enough. You melted the window, right?" Gar asks and you nod. "So, you did save yourself. Deathstroke was just faster."

"But, if I were faster then I could have melted the window and gotten us both in while Kory and Dick fought him."

"He would have seen though, right?" Gar tries to talk you into believing him. He wasn't there so he doesn't know but he can only guess everyone could see through the windows. You nod. "So, if you tried to get into the window, even while he was fighting Dick and Kory, he would have seen and set the bomb off anyway, right?"

You nod, realizing that's probably true. "But, I was focused on Jason and I wasn't fast enough. You know I can sense when people are gonna attack and I dropped the fucking ball." You whimper but it's calmer this time.

"But, none of us knew Deathstroke was working with Dr. Light. Why would you be on high alert?" Gar asks and he's just trying to give you some reasoning. He wants you to stop blaming yourself. He's worried about you. "You've never seen Jason fight before and you said you liked to watch Robin videos on YouTube, it was cool, right?" Gar asks and you nod. "Okay, so it makes sense, ya know?"

You sniffle and nod your head. "I should have known though."

"Hey, no. That's not how it works, okay?" Gar moves his hands to your shoulders. "Rachel and me got kidnapped and I got tortured." Gar states with furrowed brows. "We also got Dick and Kory tortured." Gar lets out a sigh. "We should have known. We should have expected something but we didn't but that wasn't our fault. It was a hospital, we shouldn't have needed to expect something like that to happen to any of us. It wasn't our fault then. And this, this isn't your fault either. This is Deathstroke's fault and Dr. Light. Dick didn’t blame us and he’s not going to blame you for this so you shouldn’t either."

You rub your eyes and nod your head. You have a hard time believing him but Gar is making you feel a little bit better. "I'm just..." You swallow the lump in your throat. "You and Jason just mean so much to me and I don't know what I would do if I lost either of you and I've done everything I can to survive. I don't wanna die either. It's...so fucking much." You let out a breath. "And I know that I should put myself first sometimes that like my mental health is important, blah blah blah, but I'm also so worried about Jason because you didn't see him in the bathroom tonight. And how am I supposed to deal with tonight," A few more tears come from your eyes as you work yourself up again. "And Jason because I won't abandon him and he needs me, he needs us. It's just so much and so fucking loud."

Gar cups your face again and he offers you the softest of smiles. "We take one day at a time, okay?" He asks. "I care about you and you don't have to do this alone. You or Jason." Gar states. "You're not alone in this, I promise."

You backs down. Your thoughts swirl in the forefront of your mind like that waterslide at the big waterparks. Just swirling, waiting to be sucked into the open but you push them down because Gar is trying to help and it's working. You hate feeling alone but Gar promises that he won't leave you alone with this, it means everything to you. You can't be alone in it, not right now. And you’re so grateful for him.

"Okay." You nod, putting your hands over his.

"Wanna keep talking about it?" Gar asks.

You shake your head. "No, no, not anymore. I want...to forget it." You nod quickly.

"Okay." Gar nods and he wishes you'd talk more about it. He doesn't want it to simmer too long but he won't push. "Movie?"

"Please."

"Okay." Gar offers you a smile, brushing your hair from your face. "Let's get up."

You nods softly, carefully getting up, feeling the weight of everything making your limbs heavy. But, you get to your feet, Gar following as you do. He's standing close to you, as if afraid if he steps one step away, you'll shatter again.

"C-can I see if Jason wants to watch?" You suck in a breath, your breathing uneven. "He's training and um...ya know?" You dodge his eyes and even after all that, you revert back to worry about Jason. Worrying about him is significantly better than trapping yourself in your thoughts about yourself.

"Why the hell is he training right now?" Gar's voice goes up an octave. He's really starting to wonder if anyone in this tower has any healthy coping mechanisms. He's guessing not.

You shrug. "It's Jason." The sigh that escapes you is defeated.

"We should probably tell Dick, then. Lock the training room or something." Gar suggests and Jason is his best friend. Gar doesn't want Jason running himself into the ground or causing himself more physical or mental pain. He's had enough for one lifetime.

You shakes your head quickly. "Hell no, Jason'll be pissed. If Dick doesn't fucking figure it out, that's on Dick." You snap, getting a quick glance from Gar. "Sorry, it's just," You grit your teeth. "Had he just let Jason fucking help, none of this would have happened." You scoff. "We can't tell Dick."

Gar nods, not liking the response but you’re right. "Yeah, we should probably invite him then." The corner of Gar's mouth twitches up slightly into something sad and hopeless.

"Thanks, Gar." You smile shyly at him.

"Yeah, of course." Gar's smile is sad.

You tell Gar you’re going to change and then grab Jason. While you change, Gar goes off to his room to grab one of his blankets. For you, it feels good to get out of your blood-stained clothes. There's a comfort that fills your blood when you put on your pajamas, feeling far more comfortable in them. It's as if changing, puts a close on the night. It's over and that, for right now, is what's important. You’re safe in this tower.

You walk into the training room where Jason is punching one of the punching bags, favoring his left leg. It pains you to even watch. He shouldn't be training at all.

"Hey, Jay?" You call and your voice brings a sense of comfort over Jason.

He stops looking over to you as you take a few steps toward him. "What's up?" He asks.

"Uh...Gar and me are gonna watch a movie." You state and you feel nervous for the first time around him. "Do you wanna come?"

Jason lets out a breath, looking to the ground and back to you. "Nah, I'm good," his words are short as he turns back to the bag and you won't take no for an answer.

You close the distance between you, walking just to the side of him as he takes a swing. "Why not?"

"Don't want to." His words are snippy now and you aren't having it. He's watching the movie even if you have to drag him out of here by his ear.

"Jay." You urge and Jason ignores you. "Jason." Your voice goes louder, a hoarseness to it but Jason keeps ignoring you. You grow frustrated but choose not to show it. Instead, you walk up to him, putting a hand on his bicep and Jason stops punching. He glances at you as you move in front of him. Your puffy and red eyes don't get unnoticed by him. "You're not doing this to yourself, okay? It's fucking late anyway."

Jason scans your face and he can't let you down again, not tonight. "You're both fucking worried about me and I don't wanna fucking talk about it, alright?"

"I don't want to either, that's why we're watching a movie. We don't have to talk, just the three of us." You scrunch your face as if Jason should have known you’re also done with the talking.

Jason lets out a sigh. He is tired. He's somehow consumed with his own thoughts and none at all from the exhaustion that has his head turning foggy. Jason doesn't like to listen to many people who have his best interests at heart, but he decides to listen to you this time.

"What movie?"

"Didn't discuss one, but I always really liked Now You See Me." You give him a cheeky smile, knowing you’ve won this one.

"Which is what?"

"Magicians—"

Jason lets out a genuine laugh and every bit of you feel better with the sound, it's better than your favorite song. "Magicians?! I might be thespian but at least I'm not a fucking magician."

"Yeah and are you robbing banks with your theater songs?" You quip and Jason's eyes narrow but the corner of his mouth twitches into a grin.

"Robbing banks?"

"Mhm, master magicians get together, rob a few banks. It's such a good movie, I swear. I think you'll like it."

"Guess you've convinced me." Jason pulls the boxing globes from his hands.

"I am very convincing." You wiggle your brows at him, Jason looking to the ground as a response.

He nods. "Yeah, you've got your moments."

"Come on, then." You stick your hand out for him and he glances at it before looking back to you with a disapproving look. He can see the red against the white gauze .

"Yeah, I'm not grabbing your fucking hand." Jason scoffs.

You look down and nod. "Yeah, that's fair. Ya know, if had like fire powers or something--"

"No." Jason lets out a laugh. "No!" His nose scrunches.

"What?" You laugh.

"Gonna cauterize your own fucking hands?"

"YEAH!" You yell through a booming laugh. "As if you wouldn't do the same! That's how you knew I was gonna say that!"

Jason's laugh is loud and brings warmth to your chest and for a second, you think he might be okay. "Maybe!" His eyes are wide, not distant or filled of pain for just that second.

"Exactly!" You chortle. You let out a sigh. "Come on, Gar is waiting." You nod your head towards the door, interlocking your arm with his.

Back in the room, Gar has the movie ready with a bowl of freshly popped popcorn and three Gatorades for all of you. He knew Jason wouldn't say no to you. Gar isn't blind or stupid. He knew Jason would listen so he prepared stuff for all three of you. And Jason is his best friend, he wants to make sure Jason is okay just as much as you. He can't imagine losing either one of you.

You sit between the two boys as you hold the bowl of popcorn on your lap so everyone can reach. You all share one of Gar’s fleece blankets as Gar presses play on the movie. You and Jason don't have much of an appetite but Gar went through the trouble of making sure you had popcorn and if neither of you eat it, Gar will worry more. So, the two of you take a few pieces every so often to not look too suspicious.

As the movie plays on, Jason feels sleep yanking on his bones. The whole night was a wreck and the sun has officially come up. He's been up well over twenty-four hours and the stress of everything has him more exhausted than he's felt in his entire life. The adrenaline crash was one thing, but this is different. He's so comfortable sitting here watching a magic movie with his best friends that sleep pulls and tugs because it's the safest he's felt. It's the most comfortable he's felt and he doesn't feel so vulnerable around the two of you. He fights it as much as he can because he wants to finish the movie and he doesn't want to be the first one to fall asleep so he tries to just rest his eyes. Resting his eyes quickly turned into sleep taking over and his head flops onto your shoulder.

You look down and gain a soft smile with him asleep. You’ve been wanting to pass out since you sat down. Between the crying and the panic and beatings and the pain, you’re fucking exhausted. Your bones hurt, you’re nauseous from lack of sleep, and your eyes burn with every blink. Your vision has even gone a little blurry but you’ve been fighting it because you couldn't sleep without knowing Jason was okay. But, now he's asleep on your shoulder and you feel at peace. So, you place your head on Gar's shoulder and closes your eyes.

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Tag list: @fairyofshampoo // @italiana-20 // @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai  // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @thatfangirl42 // @ghostkingblake // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @lilylovelyxo // @cryinghotmess // @yesimwriting // @vivian-555�� 

A/n: So, the endgame is definitely Jason and I have a plan for putting him with reader lol I promise

[detective-inspector-her]

Cain Is Here AU (Essentially a few of my Valkyrie's are stuck together)

Canon Valkyrie: Dear Diary, my teen angst bullshit has a body count.

Cop: Can you describe the person who stabbed you? Time-Travelling Valkyrie: Lithe, spirited, outgoing, and not afraid to speak their mind. They were a raw sexual force and they knew it. They were a dandelion fluff on a summer day, gone in an instant, leaving you with nothing but a memory of their touch and the faint taste of strawberries on your lips. Cop: …Great, we have a motive, but we still need a description.

Become The Skeleton's Partner Valkyrie: What was that? Time-Travelling Valkyrie: My shirt fell. Become The Skeleton's Partner Valkyrie: It sounded a lot heavier than that. Raising Cain Valkyrie: They were in it.

Canon Valkyrie: A decision had to be made. Become The Skeleton's Partner Valkyrie: And you fucked it up!

Computer: Please enter a password. Canon Valkyrie: types in Time-Travelling Valkyrie Computer: Your password is too weak. Canon Valkyrie: How fucking DARE YOU-

Canon Valkyrie: They can't make me admit France exists, right? Legally, that's not allowed. Canon Valkyrie: Sure, if France was REAL I'd say I liked it. Canon Valkyrie: But who's to say. Time-Travelling Valkyrie: I think France isn't real. Raising Cain Valkyrie: Cain, you've been to France. Time-Travelling Valkyrie: And???

Canon Valkyrie: I printed up a bunch of fake safety inspection certificates. Go slap one on anything that looks like a lawsuit. Become The Skeleton's Partner Valkyrie: Valkyrie, is that legal? Canon Valkyrie: When the cops aren’t around, anything’s legal!

Grieving Cain Valkyrie: Yesterday, I overheard Potter saying “Are you sure this is a good idea?” and Cain replying “Trust me,” and I have never moved from one room to another so quickly in my life.

Canon Valkyrie: If you had to choose between Cain and all the money I have in my wallet, which would you choose? Become The Skeleton's Partner Valkyrie: That depends, how much money are we talking about? Time-Travelling Valkyrie: Val! Canon Valkyrie: 63 cents. Become The Skeleton's Partner Valkyrie: …I’ll take the money. Time-Travelling Valkyrie: VAL!

Time-Travelling Valkyrie: Why do you think I don’t like you? I do. I would kill for you. Time-Travelling Valkyrie: Ask me to kill for you. Grieving Cain Valkyrie: …First of all, calm down-

Time-Travelling Valkyrie: The time to act is now. Time-Travelling Valkyrie: Wink, wink. Grieving Cain Valkyrie: Don't say "wink wink". Just wink. Time-Travelling Valkyrie: Oh, sorry. Time-Travelling Valkyrie: Wink.

[astrxlfinale]

Uh oh. Peaches, Immortal's Delight, and a plethora of authentic Xianzhou snacks be damned, perhaps it isn't worth sitting next to Jing Yuan when he's comfortable and content, even if his generosity means endless, good food. Because good, warm food and good, warm company means a sleepy Jing Yuan, and a sleepy Jing Yuan means the current predicament Caelus would be in: Jing Yuan steadily leaning more and more weight on the poor Trailblazer. This is problematic in the best of situations, as nobody really wants to disturb such a gentle figure while they're dozing off, but with Jing Yuan's height and mass, this only means that Caelus will steadily get crushed with the wrong posture.

...What's worse, there's no way of telling if Jing Yuan actually fell asleep, or if he's doing this on purpose and is intent on killing Caelus under an innocent ruse. Was this really a trap all along? Nah, the general would never-- would he?

A good meal found itself a mainstay within their realm of companionship. The hard working must feast! Good food and cool drinks should be a promised boon, free for all to come to enjoy. That said, Caelus found himself ready to pluck some more hilarious tales from Jing Yuan. After all, he remembered well to keep good on his promise to have some newly fashioned stories of his own.

In truth? Being a Nameless is the best grounds for storytelling. The everyday could literally become a gem in its own right!

Except, that very line of motivated thought finds itself paused the instant the most comfortable fluff in lieu of firm muscle begins to lean on him. Initially it leads his eyes to grow a touch wide, only for that visage to gradually narrow the mere instant Jing Yuan's measure of breathing found itself holding a softened cadence. There is absolute, in the three realms of hell, no goddamn WAY this actually found up happening.

The Trailblaze originally planned to become a bastion of sheer intensity, his comically irate temper was about to make the volcanoes of the cosmos proud until he actually looked up. Those very words found themselves lodged in his throat, intent on keeping there once the serenity of this damnable view comes to light. There was Jing Yuan, looking like a literal model for mattress commercials while finding his rest.

Also was it just him or was he heavier than he anticipated!?

"You... You're resting.. Now!?" He mouthed in a clear sense of panic as the form fit general would suddenly get a pair of Caelus's hands assisting in that support.

"....!?" Was it just him or the more invested in sleep he gets, the more that carefully controlled strength aims to meet a surface!? Caelus's posture was absolute crap given the current circumstances. That Trailblazing strength laughed from the stalls of logic where they were rightfully held!

"You.. Don't you, hey.. Is that damn fighting spirit even coming out when he's snoozing..!?" That confliction soon spreads once Jing Yuan's resting form found it's exact purchase. The awkward noise like some dying, squawking bird echoed out once he's completely flattened underneath that lion's mane worth of hair! Right now this was Man vs an Ivory, fluffy mountain. So this was one of the lost legends of the Xianzhou intending to challenge him now!

A single, vengeful fist found itself rising up as a growl escaped him. For the oddest, fleeting moment in Caelus's active imagination. Why in the hell did he picture an actual, base rich meow escaping this sleeping guy right now?

"Battle.. This ain't a damn battle..!" Why is he still concerned about the man getting his rest or not?! Air was being pressed from his lungs!

"I know the peaches can knock any living soul down for the count! But c'mon!" That once struggling hand found itself palming firm at the floor, one after another as he'd begin to drink deep from his well of strength. Carefully. The bastard of a man looks like he's resting too good, and the intention isn't to go and crash that for his own bodily safety!

Even if he should!

"You.. Frickin' hold tight. We'll get'cha a lullaby you won't forget..!"

@everlastiingiimmortals

[conkreetmonkey]

I wish you could actually turn animal skulls into masks irl like in fantasy and horror, but I've never seen anyone actually do it.

For starters, the eye sockets probably aren't going to line up, because most animals large enough are herbivores and have side-facing eyes as opposed to our front-facing predator ones. Also, to be worn as a mask, most would be and are often shown as worn vertically, which is not the position they're designed to be in. The human face is just differently shaped than most animal skulls. Ours are pretty much flat because we're primates, but most other animals have snouts.

Then you have the weight of bone. Bone is hefty stuff, and I doubt evolution would skimp on density around the cranium, which is, yk, the thing that protects the most important organ in the body that's an instant ko if it sustains even minor damage. A lot of animals most commonly depicted in skull masks, such as deer, goats and bovines not only, well, have horns (huge weight increase), but use those horns as weapons (thus the skull is probably going to be even thicker, and heavier). The horns add sooo much cool factor, but they'd be very impractical irl. I can't even imagine how heavily a set of bighorn ram spirals would sit upon a face garment that's not supported by gravity and held on with straps.

And finally, it just looks uncomfortable? Bone is a very hard material, and the insides of skulls are covered in pointy pokey bits, and you can't exactly tailor the size of a dead animal's head to your own face like one could a mask of wood, rubber or cloth? There would constantly be teeth brushing up against your face? Smoothing and padding can only do so much when an object has an unchangeable shape.

It's just impractical, which sucks big time because it looks cool as hell in fiction. I wish cults actually wore skulls, I'd join just for the sick-ass uniform and then dip. Yes, I know a defining characteristic of cults is that you can't just leave when you feel like it, but if motivated by the prospect of serving immense cunt while avoiding the malevolent gaze of facial recognition cameras, I think I could deal with it. I'd wear it to drive-thrus and on the street. Pair it with a hooded linen cloak, fur mantle and black nail polish. People would go gaga for my dark and mysterious ass.

[wishingwell1111]

7/1/23

sorry it's been so longg, i have good news though! i got a job!!! and i have to be on my feet a lot and moving around, lifting heavier stuff often etc so i am getting so much exercise and i know the pounds are gonna drop so fast considering i usually sit/lay down all day otherwise, but now i have motivation and i actually realized how much losing weight has lessened some of my chronic pain which makes me feel so much better too because now i know i am capable of doing more and won't be in terrible pain after like it was when i was heavier.

i am fairly optimistic for the future at this new job.

but

last night i had the worst ptsd episode. i have never felt such terror before in my life. and that is saying a lot because i have a lot of trauma, severe severe anxiety etc and this episode was thee worst thing that i've ever felt. i was doing so well. and that changed in an instant. i NEVER want to feel that way again and i am fucking terrified now that it'll happen more. everything was going so well. i'm still hopeful for the future but if those happen again i don't know if i'll be able to withstand it. i really don't have the right words to express how fucking terrifying it was. i don't really wanna think about it anymore rn haha

BFN ☆

[photog-crafty]

The Verus was given out for free sometime after the release of Cocoa Paprika. That's about all I remember about it. I wasn't really into quads, because you couldn't do tricks with them the way you could with a motorcycle, but a free vehicle was a free vehicle.

For the longest time, I regarded the PCJ 600 as the Ruffian's wimpier sibling, but I snagged one out of boredom for its unobtainable paint color and found that it's actually a nice little bike with a bit of tricking capability. I'd have no problems recommending one as a starter bike.

Manchez Scouts will always haunt me as imperfect oddities. It wasn't an an ugly bike, it had tons of cool mods, and it had excellent performance, but for the life of me I could never settle on a satisfying setup for one. I must have given this bike four or five paint and livery combos before settling on plain white because it was hard to screw that up.

The Carbon RS was a fun gimmick bike in the launch era. It was close to the level of the Bati and it had the ability to launch itself into orbit by doing a wheelie into a curb. Ultimately its complete lack of customization meant that the only paint job it would be getting was a layer of dust in the garage. At least later on you could change the headlights, I guess.

BF400s were amazing trick bikes and I knew a lot of friends who rode them religiously. Once you paid its exorbitant upgrade costs, it offered chart-topping speed and could do flips across entire city blocks. Even though I was more into parkour-style "city" bikes, I can't deny that having a BF400 was a damn fun time.

It made me deeply sad that the Thrust was the closest thing we'd get to a luxury touring motorcycle like a Goldwing. Comfy as it was, it was mostly a garage queen until years later when I had honed my skills enough to discover its potential as a wall climber.

After seeing what the Thrust could do, I took my chances on another long wheelbase bike, the Vindicator. It was a little heavier and not quite as capable, but it was neat-looking and the boost was fun to toy around with. The added torque made it a little better for hopping barriers and getting around town.

Everyone ought to have owned a Sanchez. It was the precursor to all GTA stunt bikes, and it aged like wine, being able to do a little bit of everything. The instant free CEO Sanchezes were my go-to backup vehicles for this reason when personal vehicles were unavailable. About the only criticism I could lay on it was that we shouldn't have had to jump through so many hoops to put street tires on one.

The Shotaro was a bike with many layers. Sure, it topped the racing leaderboards, but did you know that you could turn off its lights with a chrome secondary color or #000000 crew paint? Or that its stock wheels were paintable with a common trick? Or that it was a much more capable trick bike than it seemed, despite its infamy for not being able to wheelie at speed? Its strong engine meant that it could rip massive wheelies from a standstill, and its extremely long wheelbase let it devour highway dividers and tall barriers. It always had a reputation as a good inner city bike, and once you got to know it, there was nowhere it couldn't go.

The pursuit of raw speed has always been my motivator in GTA games. The Reever, being a bike with the Gargoyle's speed quirk no matter what wheels it had, made my wishes come true. But you can believe that once a glitch appeared to put low grip tires on non-Tuner vehicles, I slapped those puppies on to go even further beyond. Amusingly, the Reever was already so blisteringly fast that it didn't make much of a difference.

[wheatgrassshots]

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[neocoffeetech]

His night had been particularly miserable. He felt so alone and unworthy, and she was so far out of his reach, he didn’t know what to do with himself. She hasn’t texted, she hadn’t called; it sent him spiralling into absolute insanity.

The long distance between him and his dream girl was exhausting to think about, and it drained every ounce of motivation from his being. Every little thing reminded him of her and he frequently caught himself thinking about the life he’d have if she lived close, within the walls he called his home.

But it didn’t really feel like home. Not without her. You know what they say, home is where the heart is.

His heart was completely with her. Forever and always, just how he liked it.

The distant ticking of his wall clock brought him back to his saddening reality, in his little realm of isolation. He found himself gazing thoughtlessly at the ceiling now, no feeling but the increasing cold around his body on top of the sheets. His eyes skimmed the room, landing on the clock.

1:36am

Another sleepless night it seemed. How is he even surviving like this?

He laid there a while longer, eventually deciding to drag his bare feet across the cold hardwood floors, through the maze of his apartment and to the icey tiles of his kitchen. A glass of something would help him sleep, right? He didn’t know what but he’s in the right place for it anyway.

Circling his options of juice, water, milk, or coffee, his hand occasionally lifted his phone to his line of sight, any sign of contact from his love, but as it had been all night, not a single word.

He settled of a simple glass of water, seated at the kitchen island, phone face up next to the glass.

His eyes grew heavier but the minute, and before he knew it, his head had found its way onto his arm, pressed down on the marble bench; the now empty glass forgotten and gently pushed to the other side.

—•—•—•—•—

The sun was harsh behind the lids of his eyes and his woke to a light shaking on his arm. His head, heavy from thoughts and just waking up, lifted from his numb arm and turned to the source. His eyes, previously clouded by a sleepy haze and half shut, bulged and brightened at the sight before him. His arms, numb from being used as a pillow and prickling with a pins and needles sensation, wrapped themselves around the smaller frame of a person in an instant.

“You’re here! How are you here, when, why?” His raspy voice croaked and cracked in shock as his favourite person on earth, the love of his life, stood flush against him, small arms wrapping around his torso and a soft giggle falling from her lips.

Her presence and laughter was always such a comfort to him.

“Here to see you silly, I have that spare key remember? I thought I’d surprise you.” Her soft voice sent a strong warmth through his body as his heart pounded in his chest. She was actually here with him, and she came all the way just for him.

“I don’t deserve you, you’re amazing, I love you so much!” The words fell from his lips, straight from the heart as he expressed his love, raising his head to plant a soft, long awaited kiss to her lips.

Yawns erupted from them in the early morning chill as they stood on cold tiles. One from lack of sleep, the other from a long and tiring flight across the world. He lifted her effortlessly, carrying her to the bed that only now, with her in his arms, felt like a cloud. The couple curled up in content with each other’s presence, his arms wrapped tightly and securely around her, her arms pressed between them, a hand resting on his cheek.

This was all he needed, to be with her and just exist. She was his life source, and he was her light in the dark.

And little did he know, she wasn’t planning on going anywhere anytime soon. She was his, and this was, his arms, is her home.

Forever and always.

—•—•—•—•—

Just a random long distance thing I had pop in my head. Hope y’all enjoy.

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

The demon just glared at the Commodore, remaining silent for now while Homelander continued to bang on the glass. His focus was purely on James as the pair tried to reach one another. “I’m here, sweetheart. …We’re here. We’re gonna get you out of this thing, alright? Hopefully sooner rather than later before you drain me dry.” The blonde said with a quick nod of his head. “Just…try to focus. Try to break free of Thrawn’s brainwashing. Think of something else, anything else. A uh…thought, feeling…” Homelander couldn’t help but smile. “An anchor.”

The demon just rolled his eyes at the cheesy terminology. Though as he heard the Commodore’s challenge, he growled and snarled.

Undermining my strength isn’t exactly a good motivator for breaking you out of your little trap.

He snapped, throwing a punch at the glass. When there was no reaction, it only pissed the demon off all the more as he raged like an animal, punching and smashing against the glass with all his strength, refusing to let it get the better of him. Refusing to let the Commodore get the better of him.

Homelander joined in. The pair of them working together, using their joint force to smash the glass. It all seemed in vain at first, however gradually cracks began to form. “I think…I think it’s working. Whatever we’re doing, is working. Keep going!” Homelander yelled as he and his demon kept giving their all, using all the strength and force they had to break their lovers free.

"No, no, no..." Annie whimpered, like a kicked puppy, as the colors swirled before her eyes.

She could barely see through the visor, and she was afraid if she just started using her powers trying to get to Thrawn she'd accidentally hit James or Homelander.

"You son of a bitch!"

"As I said, Miss January..." Thrawn guides Annie to a seat and forces her to sit down, "It would be better if you just submit,"

GIF by thrawnblr

The visor starts to make a small humming noise, the exact same one used to tame James.

It would affect James a bit, make the metaphorical glass a bit thicker, but not by much.

The colors glowing before Annie's eyes would get brighter and brighter.

The glass was thick enough that he could not feel the warmth of that touch, but hand covered splayed hand . " Right. Focus.. I- I can do that " He takes a deep breath he doesnt need. Attempting to quell the tempest of his own mental torment and focus on his love for John as a mental anchor, focusing his telepathic powers to manifest a hefty anchor upon the ship that was currently unsteady under his feet

"No, however I believe keeping this one alive is motivation enough. " the Commodore motioned toward John. Meanwhile, the Commodore gives the superhero a sour smirk on the otherside when the punch didn't break it. " Yet it looks like I'm being proven right. " He mused, getting the supe even angrier to punch even harder " put your back into it, sir. " he teases .

Though as he attempts to do so , that hum is turned up in frequency and the thickness of the glass increases in that instant , and for a moment the vampire falters nearly falling into the 'water' as weight of the mind control grows 'heavier' upon his psyche and the consciousness of James feels light headed, for a moment he just.. wants to give back in. "B-bloody .. hell. " he lands upon deck for a moment to return to his focus. Losing that 'anchor.'

"FOCUS MR. NORRINGTON!" the Commodore orders.

Triggering Homelander to join in, waging heavily blows against the glass and the vampire heard a distinct cracking sound- thought it didnt look like anything broke, there was .. infact.. a hairline crack. It was enough to shake it off enough for now.

Homelander called for them to keep going and the vampire snarled and began to pound against it from the other side. Joining in after re launching himself at the glass. " NO! We will NOT consent to being your weapon! We are ancient, we are IMMORTAL! We will NOT be controlled by HIM!" The Vampire's knuckles were bloody as glass's cracks grow bigger.

" That's it, pretend that glass is my face if you must, but give it your all. That same all that will have me on my knees worshiping you for all that you can be!" Commodore teases Mirrorlander!

The Commodore left the three to exploit the crack that grew and spread and stretched now and instead would be the final catalyst to their freedom as the vampire harnessed his darkness and the Commodore his determination. Clad in his storm-soaked uniform, he courageously made his way to the bow, where the massive anchor rested. With sheer willpower, he harnessed every ounce of his strength to turn the cumbersome capstan, dragging the anchor overboard single-handedly. The salty wind whipped at his face, and the pouring rain soaked him to the bone, but Norrington's determination and leadership drove him to accomplish the near-impossible task.

As the anchor plummeted into the raging sea, there was a loud crash , splash, then SHATTER as the anchor made out of love, rage and british spite shattered the glass into a million diamonds shimmering in the sunlight as the storm dissapated and there was nothing between the blonde and vampire. The ship freed from its prison and James laughed. It was akin to that insane laughter. That " I can't believe it " kind of laughter and he threw his arms around Homelander.

In that moment green eyes snap open in the real world and his mouth detatches from Homelander. "J-John. My God. I- I'm so sorry. I - didn't mean-- please- D-darling. " He cradles the other man in his arms now. " You saved me. "

@hom3land3r @star-ligh7 @mages-pandoras-box

James would slowly wake up in a dark room. Which was odd, because James never slept at night.

James would then realize he's tied down, in a surprisingly comfortable chair. None of James's vampire powers seems to be working. James would realize that there was a single chain wrapped around his chest. Thick and made of pure silver, rendering James powerless but leaving his mind clear enough to think.

His wrists and ankles were bound with normal rope, rope he would be able to snap easily if he wasn't bound by silver.

A man sat at a desk a little away, his pale blue skin, darker blue hair, and red eyes making it clear who he was.

Thrawn, the man who was going to help Homelander brainwash Starlight then seemed to vanish when the plan was put on the back burner.

Even as James starts to wake up Thrawn pays him no mind, continuing to write calmly as if there wasn't a vampire tied up in the room.

-BearMage (As Thrawn)

It was regrettable that the only time a vampire was vulnerable was during the day when they are little more than corpses, or when feeding. Thus leaving Norrington unprotected to go to photoshoots or meetings , despite the growl from the wolf pup when someone came for his daddy that wasn't his other daddy.

But James hadn't moved until the sun was far past set. . "H-homelander?"Eyes fluttered open, his vision hazy as he attempted to piece together the events that had transpired. The room was dimly lit, and his body felt sluggish. As his focus slowly returned, he realized he was bound by heavy silver chain, and an ominous sense of dread washed over him

His head throbbed with a dull ache, and his powers were stifled by the silver restraints. Trapped in his own mind he could not reach out with telepathy. With effort, he rasped, "Where ..am I?" His voice was weak, the words escaping his dry and parched lips

His futile attempts at breaking free resulted in nothing more than a frustrated, anguished grunt. "Someone has a death wish, I see.. "

[torawro]

𝐀𝐎𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐘!

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 WARNINGS & 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎! ⤿ pairings: none, just a kink list :)

includes ; heavy mentions of various kinks , explicit language and depictions of sexual situations ! so if you’re not comfortable with any of these, please do not read!

word count: 797

note! — wrote this in honor of part 2 of s4 dropping tomorrow :)) i may or may not make more of these for other fandoms , but please enjoy!

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊— you really could have been in this position with anyone else. but you chose them. you could have been moaning someone else’s name but it’s their name your whispering and panting. begging for more, begging to be filled by them. then they stilled for a split second. wait... filled? hearing you say that sent them into a frenzy that would definitely be the death of you- and your sweet cunt. oh, they’ll fill you up alright...

erwin, jean, eren, reiner, porco, onyakopon, bertholdt, armin, kenny ackermann, colt, levi

𝐃𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊— their eyes widened slightly, flashing in fear about what just slipped out of their mouths. they got too caught up in the pleasure that it just...came out. but that regret evaporated in an instant when you let out the prettiest noise and clenched around them so tightly. suddenly the air felt heavier— it felt hotter. you saw your lover’s eyes darken with lust and mischief. so you get off on being called things like a “dirty slut”, huh? humming to themselves, they made a note not to hold back from now on.

eren, jean, levi, kenny ackermann, annie, armin, reiner, yelena, porco, zeke, ymir, miche, floch

𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊— they just adore the way your face and body heats up with embarrassment and arousal when they whisper sweet praises and compliments on the skin of your earlobe. equally, they love when you do the same too, gasping about how good they’re making you feel; it motivates them to do more, to go harder. they only want you to feel good. always. 

jean, connie, armin, eren, mikasa, hange, erwin, moblit, miche, reiner, bertholdt, marco, porco, colt, onyakopon, annie, historia, sasha, nicolo

𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐔𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊— these characters, they’re on a mission. a mission that completely includes and revolves around that heavenly body of yours. they desperately wanted, more than anything, to be the first one to touch you, to glide their hands across every inch of your skin, leaving kisses in their wake, make you gasp, make you moan, make you scream, make their name the only one in your vocabulary. they wanted you obsessed with them as much as they are with you and utterly ruin you.

jean, eren, hange, reiner, levi, yelena, armin, floch, zeke, nanaba, kenny ackermann

𝐄𝐗𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊— they just..they love you so much, so wholeheartedly, that at times, it’s impossible for them to keep it to themselves though. they start to think that the term ‘public displays of affection’ can have other meanings, too. of course they’d never outright embarrass you! or make you feel uncomfortable on purpose! but how could you possibly notice the blinds to the window that everyone could see through were drawn, or that the room to your bedroom is open— where literally anyone can walk past and play peeping tom—when you’re so stuffed and feeling good?

erwin, jean, eren, hange, sasha, reiner, porco, kenny ackermann, connie, floch

𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍/𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐀𝐋—  they never would have guessed how much they craved, how much they loved seeing you unravel, seeing you fall apart, and melt like putty in their warm hands. this different type of power over you gave them a rush of euphoria, of utter fascination, of arousal. they like being a damn tease until the need to release isn’t remotely amusing anymore, or giving you so much pleasure you’d wish it would just end. on either end of the stick, they won’t be through with you any time soon.

overtstim ; hange, reiner, eren, jean, pieck, porco, bertholdt, armin, mikasa, floch, connie

denial ; zeke, levi, eren, hange, ymir, connie, floch, erwin, yelena, armin, annie

𝐒𝐈𝐙𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊— your body and their body... it’s like you were made for them, they way you encase each other so perfectly. but at the same time, maybe not. your whining about how they were too big, how it won’t fit helped them come to this realization. the more often you said it, the more this feeling of pride, of dominance from physically being bigger than you swelled in their stomach. but you were made for them, right? with a little more care and effort, they’ll carve you out so you won’t be whining about all that anymore.

onyakopon, reiner, eren, bertholdt, miche, jean, yelena, kenny ackermann, porco, colt, erwin

𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑/𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐐𝐔𝐄; (i.e. knife play, blood play, dacryphilia, somnophilia, etc)— they mentally made a point to control themselves, to keep these shameful little secrets to themselves. the last thing they’d want on this earth was to scare you away or create unnecessary distance between the two of you. but one fateful day, it just... happened. and you bashfully admitted how much you enjoyed it. feeling much more relaxed, they now had to worry about controlling themselves from pouncing on you.

bertholdt, colt, armin, zeke, eren, jean, connie, reiner, sasha, marco, nicolo, hange

! 𝐚/𝐧 — damn wayment this might even be better than the haikyuu one... if you wanna read that one click here! lmk if you liked it! brb gonna go read my Bible. who’s excited for the final season ?

[djarinsbeskar]

Counterstrike - Boxer!Din AU

Definition -  a strike that retaliates against an earlier strike.

A/N: Finally back with a long awaited instalment for Boxer!Din. I’m floored by the response he has received since I posted him first and I just wanted to thank you all so much for showing him (and me) so much love (and lust). In particular, I’d like to dedicate this instalment to @bestinbeskar @honestly-shite @3frontier and @pedro4ever for the gorgeous art of Boxer!Din they each made! Links can be found on the Boxer!Din masterlist below.

Word Count: 3.5k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: SMUT! Unprotected sex (do as I say, not as I write), semi-public sex, rough dom!Din, dirty talking, no beta.

Main Masterlist | Boxer Materlist

Ever since he first fucked you in the middle of his boxing ring, Din had developed a bit of a bad habit. A habit that involved finding some way to bury his cock inside you ever time he saw you; an inconvenience since you mostly came across each other in less than private settings. His gym, the sports clinic, or the massage studio you worked at.

It was sweltering, the city falling under the hold of a heatwave that no number of cold showers would help cool. Din ran hot by nature, and the heat only served to make him two things: irritable and horny.

That might explain the near instant reaction he had to the tempting little sundress you wore to combat the suffocating heat when you popped your head around the main doors of the gym. Your day off if the lack of uniform was anything to go by. A vision in coral pink and flushed skin, you beamed against the metal and muted, dark tones of the boxing area.

Sweat dropped down his temple from where he lay on the bench press, bare chest glistening and muscles taut as he lowered the barbell down slowly to his chest. Trained, expert eyes – honed instinct to notice every miniscule move of an opponent – picked up the flash of color and immediately flickered over to where you were approaching him.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

His jaw clenched as he turned his attention resolutely back up to stare at the ceiling, focus Djarin. With a measured exhale, his muscles bunched to press the heavy weight back up away from his body, held it for a beat, and let it lower once more on a slow inhale.

Three more.

His head turned towards you to admire your form as you traced your hand over the dumbbell stand, skilled fingers walking along the progressively heavier weights while your eyes met his in the wall of mirrors behind the stand. You smiled. And it lit your face up.

Jesus fucking Christ.

His eyes dropped from yours down your body indulgently, content to hold the weight of the barbell a beat longer. The way that dress clung to every damned curve he wanted to sink his fingers and teeth into, the swish of the skirt barely reaching the middle of supple thighs that looked better thrown over his shoulders. The fucking nerve you had to not bother concealing the faded mark on the top of your breast where it peeked out from over your neckline where he left it several days ago.

His mouth twisted into a snarl, his mark. Damn fucking right.

You were teasing him, crossing one ankle over the other to turn towards him with a dainty twirl of your skirt. Don’t get distracted on the bench, he growled to himself internally, and with a grunt, he pushed the barbell back up, the lines of muscles that cut across his triceps flexing taut and his pectorals pulsed from the strain of exercising them.

The pulse of his cock in his gym shorts on the other hand, that wasn’t a muscle that was supposed to be engaged for this particular exercise.

Two more.

“Miss me already, sweetheart?”

He ground out, voice rough and strained��keenly aware of the sway of your hips as you walked back towards the bench, his eyes at perfect eye level to thighs he wanted to wrap around his waist. You passed his head – fuck, he could smell you from here – to stand by his hips. He brought the barbell back down slowly towards his chest, breathing more labored than it should be and his jaw clenched in frustration. You were getting to him.

His grip on the metal bar almost slipped entirely when you hiked up the skirt of your dress to kick one leg over the bench and straddle his hips, the sudden weight and heat making him grunt in surprise.

You were soaked—he realized at the same time it dawned on him that you weren’t wearing any underwear.

“Does this answer your question?”

Voice as light and airy as the lavender scent that suffused the room you gave massages in—making his teeth grind and his hips struggle to remain still when memories of that same voice breathless and gasping with moans he elicited rose in his memory.

You rubbed yourself over the thick outline of him through his gym shorts – you little fucking tease – and sweat wasn’t the only thing dampening them anymore.

“Finish your workout, Din,” you sighed breathily, hooded eyes scanning the empty gym floor appreciatively—basking in the ability to rock so openly and languidly over his throbbing cock. It was a sunny day. It was the end of the week. No one was in the gym—and that was precisely why Din chose to work out now.

His eyes never left yours, molten pools filling with dark promise clashed with yours as your small hands found the planes of his tight abdomen, the muscles clenching sensitively under your touch,

“Keep your back straight… don’t want to injure yourself again—” you purred and received a warning growl in response when he pushed the weight back up, a ripple of heated arousal gathering low at his spine and tightening to a coil beneath your hands that indulgently ran over toned muscles and tawny, inked skin.

One more.

Fuck… but you felt so good. Grinding on him like that.

Din’s hips rocked up against you despite himself, his heels pressing into the grate metal flooring to push his clothed cock against your dripping cunt, your soft gasp when he caught your clit music to his ears and the last bit of motivation he needed to drop the barbell back to his chest. You focused your ruts on the tip of his bulge, the fucking audacity you had to use him to get yourself off—grinding your clit over his soaked shorts and digging short nails into his stomach while soft, gentle eyes darkened with lust bore into his.

He lowered his hips again, smirking at the soft whine of annoyance you couldn’t mask in order to adjust his posture correctly. With one last exhale, a panted curse as corded muscles tensed and released with a final burst of energy, his arms straightened once more above him.

Finally.

He had a hand tangled in the length of your hair before the clatter of the metal barbell hitting the hooks of the stand above him died out, yanking you down until your breasts were flush with his heaving chest. His other hand – calloused and rough – grabbed a fistful of your ass, the soft material of your dress bunching effortlessly in his hand,

“Didn’t get enough last week, baby?” he growled against your mouth, guiding your hips over his cock harder now that he could thrust shallowly against you, grinning darkly at your keen of frustration when his mouth glanced yours, avoiding kissing you, “fuck, you’re soaked for me already—”

Teeth grazing your jaw, you arched your neck back in blind submission, the hand caught against his stomach shifting down to tug at his shorts, succeeding in getting them only halfway down. You both groaned at the contact when wet, slick heat burned around the leaking head of his cock, making the heatwave outside feel like nothing more than a warm breeze.

“Din…” you moaned when a perfectly timed grind of his hips knocked the blunt tip against your hooded bundle of nerves, “a week is too long…” you admitted to the boxer’s delight. Finally. He wasn’t the only one going stir crazy only seeing you sporadically.

“Yeah?” he rasped, tightening his hold in your hair so he could keep your head pulled back while he licked a small trickle of sweat that was slowly making its way down to the hollow of your throat, “thinking about my cock all this time?”

Feral pride filled him at your immediate nod, his chest swelling with a primal snarl – why the fuck did you have to agree so easily, he’d never stop thinking about it now – and captured your lips heatedly with his own. Growling your name, he plundered your mouth—lapping along your tongue and groaning at your taste, swallowing your soft sighs and mewls of satisfaction at finally having his lips on yours again.

His hand dropped from your hair to drag down your spine, down the thin fabric that clung to your heated skin until he was dipping two thick digits between exposed cheeks to swipe through your drenched folds. Circling, spreading, coaxing whines and groans of his name with every press of his fingers. Music more beautiful than even the most skilled pianist could create, and all from the fingers of a fighter.

Conversation from elsewhere in the vicinity carried through empty corridors and with a dip of his fingers into your quivering entrance – chestnut eyes sharpened to dark amber watching doe eyes flutter shut in pleasure – his words breathed into your mouth when your lips parted against his,

“Locker room. Now.”

What followed was a heated scramble, a need to be close—to remain in this transcendent bubble of scorching touches and burning attraction. He practically dragged you with him across the gym floor, weaving between machines with his hand wrapped firmly around your wrist. You already looked wrecked, thoroughly corrupted with mused hair, and crooked clothing. Your legs wobbled as you followed his menacing frame, eyes glued to the shifting muscles in his back, an apex predator dragging his prey back to devour in rapture. You went willingly.

The tiles of the shower cubicle were cold when he shoved you against them – the only place remotely private in the locker room when he tugged the thin curtain closed behind you – his hands flexing around your jaw when he turned your face up for him to kiss. Free hand pressing into the small of your back, he made you arch against him, and you mewled at the solid length of him throbbing against your stomach.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he rumbled, hand snaking around to disappear beneath the skirt of your dress again as he rocked his hips against you slowly—cupping your cunt and his teeth leaving a trail of bites down your throat as his words whispered across the tiles.

You blushed.

He saw it—even above the flush of arousal, he saw your cheeks darken and your eyes flicker to the side at his words. Avoiding his gaze, expecting a hunter’s response of claws and teeth to your doe-like display of weakness—and his eyes softened minutely. Some of the aggressive tightness bled from his gaze which he hid in a nip to your jaw, the heel of his hand rubbing in tempting circles over your swollen clit while his fingers split along your entrance, smearing your slick over puffy lips.

You rocked your hips over his hand needily, fingers scratching down the sides of his neck, scoring passion into the tanned skin and whispers against his lips – please Din, please – along with the pleasurable pain rippling from your nails compelled him to shove two fingers knuckle deep into your tight cunt.

He covered your mouth quickly with his palm when an unadulterated moan ricocheted off the tiles, echoing louder – “fuck baby, quiet” – was hissed against your cheek even as his fingers picked up a merciless pace of pump pump pump, his thumb swiping across your clit, his speed building—making it harder for you to stay quiet as you whimpered against his hand.

Nails digging into his shoulders, you buried your face into his sweat slick neck when he dropped his hand from your mouth to hike your leg up over his arm, spread you wider for him to thrust soaked fingers into your sopping core.

When you came the first time, you bit his neck—his teeth baring from the sting while his fingers scissored against your convulsing walls, dragging you through contractions of pleasure that sent spikes of electricity to cloud your brain in a muffled babble of yes yes yes sobbed into his neck.

Condensation misted the tiles by your head as heat lifted from sweltering bodies. Din growled praise, rough rasps of “good girl, that’s it…” into your ear as you relaxed around fingers that were lazily curling up inside you, your mouth working lazily over the sensitive point where his jaw met his neck, nipping—licking, begging him to fuck you.

His brain short circuited.

His large body caging you against the wall, you preened and arched and tempted him into you with soft sighs of his name and your hands tracing down to the hem of his shorts. Heavy, lust-pooled eyed followed your hands, watching you pull him from his shorts and stroke him with expert fingers that never failed to make him fall apart—on your table, in your bed… you bewitched him with touch since first he met you. He was a slave to it.

“Fuck, baby—” he groaned, his head falling back before he swiped your hands away from his swollen length, giving it a few hard strokes as he ran the head between your exposed folds. He filled you with on thrust, a filthy squelch as your pussy accepted him – unable to be gentle, unable to take his time when all he could think of was claiming you over and again, of meeting your counterstrike with a knockout and hearing your surrender in cries of his name.

He was big—so big that every time he filled you, it felt like he was splitting you apart. The smallest hint of pain, the breach of his cock melting into a delicious fire that licked and coated your nerves as the fat head knocked against soft tissue inside you. He found his pace with a slow rut that dragged his cock along tight walls where you could feel every single vein throb enticingly against you.

His facial hair sanded across your cheek as he panted how good you felt, how tight—how addicted he was to the feel of you, how he wanted to fuck you for hours. Your nails curved down over the muscles of his shoulder blades, along his waist—basking in his size, his strength—his head lowering to scrape his teeth over the swell of your breast, sucking over the ghost of his previous mark and drawing blood back to the surface as he snapped his hips back into you.

And then the door to the locker room opened, and conversation filled it.

Din didn’t even think before slamming his fist onto the water pressure, drenching the two of you in seconds with cool water and drowning the sounds of his cock slamming into you with the hiss of water falling in rivulets down your bodies.

You moaned, too far gone to know – or care – that you weren’t alone, and his hand came back up to cover your mouth with a warning growl into your ear, “Shut up, unless you want to give them a show.”

Even as he said it, his pace grew harder—punching gasps and sounds of surprised pleasure from parted lips that were only mitigated by the calloused palm he folded over them. Your nipples pebbled through soaked fabric, drawing his eager mouth down to suck it raw through the dress, whimpers for more echoed in the tight clench of your cunt around his glistening length.

Steam filled the shower, bleeding out into the locker room where laughter and conversation blended to mask the wet slaps of his skin against yours, the sodden movement of clothes and his guttural groans around your nipple as you clawed at his undulating back.

“Din—” you whispered, panting as strands of your hair fell into your face—fucked out and divine when his mouth slanted over yours again, your chest heaving while one hand lifted to cup his jaw, keeping his mouth on yours. He snapped into the dripping grasp of your pussy hard, shoving you up the wall onto your toes, the graze of the short coarse hairs at the base of his cock tickling over your sensitive clit.

“So fucking loud…” he growled on a whip of anger, the sound cracking down the feral possessiveness of his tone and making you moan. He would spank that pretty ass red, your pussy pink if there wasn’t the risk of the sound carrying to the other athletes getting changed for their workout.

Oh well.

That just meant he would have to take you again later.

His balls tightened and his stomach clenched at the thought, fuck. He wanted you again and he hadn’t even cum yet—your tight little cunt already quivering and tightening around him with your oncoming orgasm as he lost himself in eyes flooded with open desire— disarming him with the candor he saw reflected in them. He swallowed thickly.

“Gonna ruin you, sweetheart,” was his immediate reaction, the only way he could think to reciprocate. A gush of wetness pushed around his cock drilling into you, your walls getting impossibly tighter, and he smirked darkly—his nose pressing into your cheek, teeth bared and feral, “you’d like that, huh?”

Delirious nods were all you were capable of as silent gasps kept your lips parted, eyes rolling back when his thumb dropped to draw tight, fixated little circles on your clit—forcing you over the edge with a final blow that sucked the breath right out of you, the boxer taking and taking and taking everything he wanted from you with wet thrusts and brutal bites to your already marked neck.

He swallowed your orgasm with his mouth, the wet strands of his hair dripping water onto your pretty face as he sucked your tongue into his mouth, dropping his free hand to slide down the length of your side as his thrust turned erratic, chasing his high—chasing that bliss he could only find buried deep inside you.

“Cum, Din—cum,” you breathed, cupping his face as you smiled—exhaustion written plain on your face and his brows pinched in concentration, dropping his forehead to your shoulder with a gasp of your name, breathless as he pulled out—his hand moving frantically over the swollen length of him until he coated your mound and dress with his release. It washed away in streaks of milky white down your body, a subtle pang of fatigued frustration to see it disappear so quickly flashing though him.

The locker room was silent when he turned the water pressure off.

Apart from your labored breathing, the locker room was silent—the prior occupants leaving none the wiser or – if they had heard anything – wisely leaving.

Din dropped your leg from where it remained hooked over his arm, his hands fisting in the skirt of your dress to drag the sodden material up and over your head with a shiver at the uncomfortable feeling of wet clothes.

The sight of your naked body made his softening cock twitch, dammit. You were all gentle curves and soft skin, clothed in the marks of his mouth and bruises of his grip.

He wanted you again.

And caged within his arms, trapped with his hands pressed either side of your head, his shaggy head of soaked waves falling into dark, guarded eyes—you could admit you wanted him again too.

“I’ll wash your dress,” he rasped gruffly, taking a step back from you and kicking off his shorts to wring out and toss into his gym bag. He left the shower with effortless calm, as if he wasn’t stark naked but returned with a towel for you to wrap yourself in.

You flashed him a grateful smile that stuttered when he tossed another – smaller – towel on your head, rubbing it quickly over your soaked locks despite your complaints, a crooked smirk your only indication that he was playing.

“You don’t have t—”

“You can wait for it to dry at my place.”

His words brokered no argument as you padded after him into the empty locker room, the boxer rummaging through his own locker to pull out a simple white t-shirt—long enough to cover you… just about. The hem fell shorter than your dress and you were distinctly aware of your lack of underwear when you pulled it on.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he rumbled as he tugged a tight black muscle shirt over his head, looking down at you with a devastating smirk and sinfully half-lidded eyes, “I don’t share. No one will see you.”

Taglist:

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[katsumiiii]

Drunk In Love

roronoa zoro x fem! poc reader

genre: fluff

warnings: consumption of alcohol

description: the strawhat crew stops on a nearby island for supplies. zoro takes a trip to the local pub only to have some interesting company join him.

It’s safe to say that Roronoa Zoro was lost. While this was not a rather surprising statement, it does get tiring to hear that the swordsman hasn’t picked up on his sense of direction since entering the New World. Again and again, every twist and turn looked similar to him, causing him to wander further and further from his desired destination. That destination of course being a pub.

The male couldn’t go too long without having at least a sip of alcohol, his mouth craving the flavor after a good while. He cursed as he traveled down another unfamiliar path, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he dragged his feet along the dirt ground.

Maybe he should’ve listened when Nami said to take someone with him. Nevermind, he would have had to take that curly browed idiot with him, and he’d rather not argue the whole way to the pub.

Zoro scanned his surrounds once more, seems as though those twists and turns led him back into the town, where the pub was apparently located. He let out a sigh of relief, tired of wondering around the dense forests, especially since all of the trees were so similar looking.

He trotted along, dirt kicking out in front of him as a result. Many different sounds flooded his ears, whether it were children whining for the cherry tarts that were on sale to the left of him — they were supposedly the best in town — or the slight ringing of laughter coming from the restaurants to his right, he reckoned that’s where Luffy was trying to go, the smell of meat too tempting for him to ignore.

About half way through the town square, Zoro encountered the very place he’d been searching for. With a snarky grin on his face he hurriedly pushed open the doors, the smell of booze greeting him ever so kindly. Walking a few feet up from the entrance way, he plopped on to a tall wooden stool, slamming his hands on the oak countertop in order to catch the bartenders attention.

“Lemme get a beer.” He bluntly demanded, obsidian irises staring boringly into the man behind the counters backside, watching as he turned around with a tight lipped smile on his face.

“Sure, coming right up!” The chubby male worked swiftly, and right as Zoro gave a long loud yawn a pint of beer was slammed on to the table, causing him to smile excitedly.

“Thanks.”

“No problem sir! Tell me if you need anything else!” He stated as he hurried off to handle another customer.

Zoro raised the mug to his chapped lips, taking large gulps as he drank the liquid. It left a satisfying burn as it traveled down the pathway of his throat, soon settling in his stomach along with whatever else was down there. He let out a sigh of relief and a belch, which caused quite a few heads to turn towards the noise.

“Oh shit, that’s Roronoa Zoro!”

“What’s he doing here alone?”

“If he’s here then that means Strawhat is most likely near by.”

The whispers grew louder as men and woman alike began to worriedly question the young males motives, discreetly scooting further and further away from him. Zoro huffed closing his only good eye, all he wanted was a peaceful drink at the bar, was that too much to ask for? Guess that’s what he gets for being a pirate.

“You looking for company?” A voice asked, the groan of wood rubbing against wood following soon after, causing Zoro to assume that they pulled out the chair beside him. He grunted, eye still not opening as his left hand gripped the handle of his mug.

“No, go away.” He replied, taking another gulp of his liquor.

“Aww don’t be like that, I promise I’m an interesting gal.”

Zoro opened his eye in annoyance, gaze traveling to your figure. “I said go away you damned wom-” he cut off suddenly, voice caught in the back of his throat as he stared at the sight in front of him.

You were beautiful, your hair was braided into a style he’d never quite seen before, but it was unique and eye catching. Your browned skin all but glowed as there was a window right behind your figure, the sun illuminating your very being. Your nails were thumping against the dull oak countertop in front of you as you softly bit your plump lip, your pearly whites slightly poking out. “You alright there mister?”

His body jolted causing a cough to rile up from the sudden movement. “Oh my god are you okay?” You asked again, this time worriedly. Your voice was damn near angelic, the sound of it bringing heat to his cheeks as he slammed his fist on to his chest to stop his wheezing.

“Y-yeah I’m fine.”

“You sure? Had a bit of a cough there.” Your eyes seemed like they were staring into his very soul as you laid a hand on his chiseled backside, rubbing light circles upon it.

“I’m fine! I can handle a little cough.” He roughly shook your hand off of his back, face becoming more crimson by the minute.

“Hm, I can see that big guy.” You chuckled, gesturing the bartender over. “Hi, may I have some booze please? I’ve been craving some for the longest!”

The male nodded, cheeks turning pink at the slight groan you let out. “Y-yes ma’am, I’ll get right to it!”

“Thank you love!”

“Oi!” Zoro quickly called out, watching as the bar man rolled his eyes before sending him a full smile and a slight nod. “I need more booze.”

“Coming right away sir.” The man grumbled, reaching upwards to retrieve two mugs.

“You seemed to have irritated the man a bit.” You quipped, letting out a small thank you as the very man you mentioned handed you your drink.

“Not my fault he hates his job.” Zoro replied back, muttering out a thank you as well as his drink was set in front of him.

“I don’t think it’s the job he hates.” You smirked, licking your lips of the residue booze.

“Yeah whatever.”

Silence overtook the both of you as you indulged in your liquor, you yourself starting to feel a slight buzz around your fifth mug. “You still drinking?” You questioned, glancing over at the green haired male beside you.

He shot you a quick look, cheeks red from what you assumed was caused from his alcohol intake. “Yeah, surprised you can keep up with me, you damned woman.”

You scoffed, leaning closer to his flushed face, the red of his cheeks increasing with the closing distance. “Oh please, I could out drink your ass in an instant.” You announced cockily, nose scrunching at the smell of alcohol coming from his breath.

He cackled at the sentence, body shaking from complete and utter shock at what he believed to be an incorrect statement, though he guessed he’d have to find out. “Oh really? Is that a challenge?”

“You bet it is moss head.”

“Oh it’s on.”

Drink after drink, you two continued to down as many mugs as you could, the burn intensifying with each gulp. You took a sharp breath as you hastily drank another one, hearing cheers from the spectators, bets circulating on which person would win the battle. After about 56 mugs, Zoro lightly tapped chipped oak countertop, causing you to whoop in victory, screams erupting from the onlookers.

“Ha! Told you I would win!”

Zoro giggled, pushing his body from the wooden stool. “Damn, never thought I’d see the day.”

“I’m surprised my damn self, you can drink your ass off.” You smiled, flipping your intricately braided hair off of your shoulder.

“Well, it was nice drinking with ya.” The male declared as he trotted out of the bar, sending a small wave your way.

“Wait! You can’t just leave!” You rushed after him, hands clammy and mouth dry as you forced your legs to work properly enough to be able to run after the male. Though Zoro did hear your outburst, he decided to continue walking, once again kicking up dust as he wandered about. Your footsteps grew heavier, the affects of the alcohol you drank just now washing over you. You began to walk sluggishly, soon tripping, sending your body tumbling into Zoro’s.

“H-hey! What the hell?!” He firmly grabbed your plush waist, unintentionally pulling you flush against his toned body.

His cheeks heated up once again as his eyes settled along your face, your eyes glazed over, bottom lip slightly red, most likely irritated from the amount of times your teeth have harshly dug into them. “You...you alright?” His fingers traced pathways along your skin, trailing lines and circles as you both continued to stare at one another.

Soon you leaned forward, capturing your lips with his, the taste of alcohol dancing along your tongues. Heat trailed throughout your body, hands settling on top of his as you continued to embrace one another. The kiss was hot and messy, teeth clashing more than once, though neither of you minded, you simply continued to take in every single bit of each other.

You eventually pulled apart, both of you heaving from the intensity of it all. You both stared at each other’s slightly dulled irises, gazing upon the possibilities of this new relationship, or whatever you’d like to call it.

“Y/N”

“Mhm?” Zoro cocked his head sideways, rubble rubbing against the back of his scalp from the movement.

“My name, it’s Y/N.” You repeated, ruffling the males hair to shake off the excess debris.

Zoro hummed in response, cheeks flushing for what seemed to be the thousandth time today. “My names Zoro.”

notes: idk wtf is going awn in this fic lmfao 💀

taglist: @izvana @myhoodacademia @mypimpademia @0risha @blackweebtrash @katsumox @kazuluvr @yuujisbby @manjiiroll @asaincy @namjoonswifeyy @angiebug101 @amethyst09 @sisifromthed @lilsparkyswife @morosis-haze @solar3lunar @lightofcordonia

[marsbutterfly]

How about a hanji x short reader. Where they cuddle and the reader falls asleep in hanjis arms

Note: I was actually writing a story and decided to mix it with your request. I was feeling very depressed when I started this story and writing it genuinely helped me feel better so I really hope you like it, anon. <3

Comforting Embrace

Summary: Everybody finds comfort in different places. For you, it's in Hanji's arms.

AO3 Version! | Wattpad Version!

A silence fills your room as you lay in your bed. A tight feeling in your chest, almost as if someone has been holding your heart in their hands, squeezing it tightly and avoiding blood circulation. 

Your vision is being clouded by the tears forcing their way out of your eyes, softly sliding through red cheeks and an already wet neck until they fall on your shirt, contrasting against the deep grey cloth. 

Not a sound leaves your body but the bed shakes in response to the hiccups escaping your throat. You wrap your hand around the collar of the shirt, pulling it tightly as you desperately try to catch your breath but failing miserably. 

A few knocks on the door pull your mind away. Placing a hand above your mouth, you make extra effort to stay silent, even if all you want to do is scream at the world and break things. The gentle voice coming from the other side startles you, for you were not expecting her to come over.

“Y/N?” She asks, quietly. You feel as if a dam has broken in your eyes once water comes pouring out yet again. Taking your free hand towards your face, you place it above the other, shutting your eyes tightly in the hopes she would go away, but no such thing occurred.

A creek coming from the door announces her presence, quickly followed by a small amount of light filling your previously dark room. Footsteps make their way closer to you and you can feel a pit forming in your stomach, a mixture of fear and anxiety. 

Her hand touches the blanket, slowly pulling it down and allowing the cold wind to touch your warm face. Your eyes remain shut while you feel the weight of her body touching the bed, your body shifting slightly to accommodate the figure sitting beside you.

“What happened?” Hanji asks softly, placing her lantern on the bedside table. Once you open your eyes, you notice the shadow of her hand floating in front of your face, her soft yet cold fingers brush against your skin, drying the tears that still run down. 

You try to speak but no sound comes out, only a pained breath exhaling your lungs. You shake your head, lightly slapping her hand trying to get her away but that only motivates her to come closer. 

Her arm wraps around your torso, head laying on your stomach while pressing the blanket against your skin. She can clearly hear the sounds coming from within you, closely followed by the sound of your hiccups. Hanji doesn’t say anything, patiently waiting for you to feel ready to share your feelings but, at the same time, making sure you know she’s right by your side.

In a quiet voice, you find the courage to start talking, “I was assigned cleaning duty today.”

You feel her head nodding on top of your stomach, her eyes never leaving your face in a caring way, showing you how interested she is in your words.

 “I thought you loved cleaning duty.” She says, gently placing her hand on your hair, playing with the strands that fall on your face. You reach for a tissue before nodding your head.

“And I do.” You reply, blowing your nose while a few more tears run down your face. Quickly, she brings her body up and reaches for your shoulders, an attempt to get you to sit and press your back against the cold wall. You oblige to her silent request and place a pillow behind you. 

“Then I don’t see the problem.” Hanji reaches for your hand, cold fingers touching your warm ones, her eyes filled with concern as the flames of the lantern dance with the wind, shining behind her while the shadow covers her face.

“I was so cold my hands started shaking and I dropped the bucket of dirty water on the freshly clean floor.” Hiccups interrupt the words as you avert your eyes, but only a couple of seconds pass before her free hand finds its way up to your chin. 

Lightly, she uses her thumb and index finger to change your focus to her, a compassionate smile on her face. Without saying anything, you can tell she’s waiting for you to continue sharing what happened. “Captain Levi screamed at me like I’ve never seen before.”

“Red face and all?” She asks.

“Red face and all.” You repeat her words affirmatively. “I panicked and couldn’t respond.”

Your voice is barely audible and you notice a sad expression taking over her features. She shifts her fingers from your chin to your cheek, her caring eyes never leaving you and the butterflies in your stomach suddenly awaken. 

In a second, you wrap your arms around her body and rest your head on her chest. The sound of Hanji’s heartbeat has always been the most calming sound in moments like this, your heart always getting in sync while her hands gently brush through your hair.

For an instant, you could feel a simple smile curling up on your lips and, as quickly as it came, it disappeared. A sigh escapes the brunette’s lips as yet another tear leaves your eye, landing on the strap of her bra. 

“I’ll kill him.” She whispers, fingers never once stop travelling through your hair. “I will absolutely murder his scrawny little short ass self.”

Not being able to hold it in, a burst of laughter resonates from your body, filling the once dark and empty room. The atmosphere feels lighter as you now wipe away tears of amusement, but suddenly you come to a realization, “Wait… who are you calling short?”

She looks into your eyes for a second, confusion taking over her features as she opens her mouth multiple times, trying to comprehend what you are talking about, “Levi?” and as soon as his name leaves her mouth, she bursts out laughing while a pout takes over your face.

“You just realized we are the same height, didn’t you?” You ask, a long sigh leaving your lungs as she falls off the bed, her body slamming against the hard floor, closely followed by an extremely loud bang. Rolling around as she clutches to her stomach, you prop your back against the wall once again, resting your weight on the half-bent pillow.

“YOU TWO ARE THE EXACT SAME HEIGHT!” She yells, bursting out laughing yet again. You try to keep a straight face but the sounds she is making fills your heart with an immense surge of love and joy. 

A smile curling on your lips while Hanji’s eyes meet yours, the light coming from her lantern contrasts with the brown orbs that stare at you. They emanate the warmth of the sun and, at the same time, it reminds you of the earth beneath your feet, so full of life. 

Shifting your body, you place your left hand on the edge of the mattress, prompting your body up to look down at her, your eyes never leaving hers. 

Laughter dies in her throat once she feels your now cold fingers touching her skin, a shiver traveling through her body as she nuzzles her face against your digits. Slowly, you place them on her chin, quietly moving her face closer to yours.

Your shaking breath comes close to her, hitting her face gently. In seconds, you close the distance between the two of you, Hanji’s lips touching yours in a manner you’ve grown used to, she always causes the butterflies in your stomach to travel further into your body.

As her tongue softly touches yours, the hairs on the back of your head stand up and your heart decides to skip a beat. Gently, she bites your lower lip, pulling it towards her and, in a second, letting it go but not giving you enough time to miss her.

Hanji’s hand rests on the edge of the bed while your palm transfers your body heat to her. Her nose bumps against yours as she shifts her head and you can’t help but allow a simple giggle to escape. Opening your eyes for a second, you notice a light shade of red taking over her cheeks.

A full-blown smile now takes over your features as she continues to plant gentle kisses along your teeth and chapped lips. After a few seconds, she pulls away, leaving behind a painful void but both of you need a second to catch your breath.

“Lay with me.” You say as you look into her deep brown eyes, not a question or an order, but simply a pledge. Flashing you a smile of her own, she stands up, signaling with your hands for you to move closer to the wall, which you happily and quickly oblige.

While putting your pillow down in its original position, you turn to face the wooden surface on the side of your bed as you feel Hanji’s body pressing against yours, hips touching her groin as you destroy any inch of distance between you. Her hand wraps around your waist with care as she nuzzles her face in your neck..

“I love the way you smell.” She whispers against your scalp. You giggle quietly, brushing your fingers alongside her arm, feeling the texture of the usually invisible hair that rests on her skin.

“What do I smell like?” You ask, the volume of your voice matching hers.

“Home.” Is all Hanji says, and that is all you needed to hear.

Paying close attention to her breathing, you feel your eyelids getting heavier. The wind outside rushes through the trees and enters your window, blowing out the candle that once illuminated your room. 

“Thank you for helping me calm down.” is the last thing to leave your lips before the room falls completely silent again. Hanji’s grip on you tightens for a second, a signal that she is quietly saying “you’re welcome”, all the air leaves your lungs as you giggle one final time.

A wave of calmness washes over you as you shift your legs around gently, pulling the blanket over yours and Hanji’s bodies while focusing on the contrast of the cold fabric against your warm skin. The figure behind you lets out a satisfied sigh before adjusting her hips.

Gasping slightly, you take your right hand towards her head, lacing your fingers with her brown locks and carefully detangling them, with barely any success. You can feel her breath touching your bare neck, the smell of her skin surrounding you and you can tell everything will be ok.

Her legs are a few inches longer than yours, to the point where your feet rest close to her ankles. She has never said anything, but you know it amuses her to think about jokes revolving your height, even if they never make their way out of her mind.

A smirk on your lips, you decide to focus on the feeling of Hanji’s body on yours as you succumb to a well-deserved, deep sleep in the arms of the one you love. Any desire to move has left you and all you can do is enjoy her presence.

Tomorrow will be a better day, just by waking up next to her, but especially because you will help her get revenge on Captain Levi for making you cry. She always finds the most caring and hilarious ways to defend you.

And that is what you love most about her.