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froggibus · 2 years ago

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Redtribution - Jason Todd

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn! reader

Genre: angst -> fluff, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Jason seeks justice for you after you get assaulted

CW: assault, semi-implied SA, murder, trauma, recovery, jason murders your abuser, angst, panic attack(s), hurt/comfort, soft! jason, everyone lowkey justifying murder, mentions of Under The Red Hood, lmk if i missed anything!!)

this is so fucking self indulgent but i do not even care rn. probably not officially back to writing yet but ill ease back into it in the next month or so. i spent an hour looking up the meaning of flowers before I posted this. anyways enjoy lol

————

It’s nearly five in the morning when Jason is stumbling through the doors of Wayne manor, trying to wipe the blood drops off of his jacket. He kicks off his boots and starts to head upstairs, hoping no one will see him before he gets the chance to shower and change. He’d usually go to his apartment on nights like these but he just got new flooring and bloodstains don’t go with his decor.

He’s careful walking up the stairs, staying on the balls of his feet to not make any noise. The manor is dark and oddly empty, everyone else asleep or about to return from their nighttime activities. He enjoys the silence, though. It makes it easier for him to blend in and sneak around.

He makes it upstairs without being seen and says a silent prayer as he walks down the hallway. The floorboards upstairs have a bad habit of creaking and he lives in a house with the most vigilant people in Gotham. A sound to his right has him stopping dead in his tracks.

He slows his breathing, keeping his focus entirely on the sounds around him. The usual spinning fans and light snoring, but something else on top of that. Crying? It’s hard to tell, so Jason shuffles closer to the door he thinks it’s coming from.

Hard, breathless sobbing meets his ears. It’s somewhat muffled through the door and he can’t quite make out who it is. His first thought is Damian, but given the hour and the fact it’s a school night, he’s sure the brat wouldn’t dare make this much noise even if he was awake. Plus, he’s not even sure if the bastard can cry.

Jason squints. So who’s crying in there? He counts the doors in the hallway in his head, trying to remember who usually slept where. It wouldn’t be Dick or Tim, or even Steph or Cass. So that leaves…y/n?

His stomach drops. What are you doing up at this hour? What are you even doing in the manor? You usually stayed in your own place, trying to pursue a normal life.

He knocks gently at the door, but you say nothing on the other side. He sighs and gently pushes it open. You’re curled up in a ball in your bed, head almost pressed into your knees, shaking violently. The sight of you makes his heart ache.

“Y/n,” he tries to keep his voice gentle to be less imposing, which he supposes is a stupid idea given he’s covered in blood.

You don’t say anything, you don’t even look up at him. He walks towards you, letting the floorboards creak under his feet to alert you to his presence. He makes it to your side, kneeling at the side of the bed. He doesn’t dare touch you right now.

“Y/n, it’s Jason…is everything okay?”

You look up for just a second, letting him see your red rimmed eyes and tear stained cheeks. You relax at the sight of him despite the tears in your eyes before going back to sobbing again.

He can’t remember a single time in all the time that he’s known you that he’s seen you like this. You’ve always had a softer heart than the rest of them, you’ve always been the best of them. You don’t deserve this.

He tries to think back to anything recently that you mentioned, anything that could’ve made you feel this way, but he draws blanks. Were you dating someone? Did something happen at school? His blood runs cold—did someone hurt you?

“Did something happen?”

He hears a slight knock at the door and his head snaps up, his gaze meeting Dick’s. Dick gestures for him to leave the room, Jason giving a slight nod to you in response. Dick raises his eyebrows and gestures once again.

“Hang in there,” he says quietly before slipping out of your room to see what he wants.

He closes the door behind him with a click, following Dick down to the Batcave. Neither of them dare speak until they’re beneath the mansion and far enough away that you couldn’t possibly hear them.

“What’s going on?”

Dick sighs, “there was an…incident tonight.”

“What? What kind of incident? Did someone hurt y/n?” Rage grows in the pit of Jason’s stomach, threatening to boil over.

“Yes,” Bruce’s gruff voice cuts in.

Jason doesn’t even care that he’s still wearing his bloodstained clothes. He doesn’t care about anything other than you right now.

“What happened?”

“We don’t know details, all we know is what we were told and what we caught on security cameras.” Dick looks angry, a jarring sight for him. “Y/n was assaulted last night.”

Just like that, the rage bubbles over and Jason sees red. “Did we find the person who did it? Are they fucking dead yet or do I have to do it myself?”

He’s not even aware that he’s yelling, barely conscious of the words he’s saying. Not you, anyone but you. You did nothing to deserve this.

Bruce interrupts his spiralling. “We’re not killing anyone, Jason.”

“They can’t just get away with this!”

“They won’t,” Dick says in that stupid mediator voice that Jason has always hated. “They’ll go to prison and face the justice system.”

But Jason can tell from his eyes that Dick doesn’t believe that either.

“And what about y/n? They’re just supposed to live with the fact that this—this fucking abomination lives in the same city as us? What happens when they get released? What do we do then?”

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. “We’ll get y/n into therapy, okay? We will figure this out. But no one is killing anyone.”

Jason shares a split second look with Dick before barreling his way through them and heading back upstairs. “This is bullshit.”

He hears Bruce sigh behind him but he doesn’t care.

—

It’s three days later when Jason returns to the manor. He’s clean this time, dressed in fresh street clothes that aren’t bloodstained. He has a tote draped over one arm and a bouquet wrapped in brown paper in the other. He’s relieved when only Alfred seems to be in the mansion, sitting at the dining room table drinking tea.

“Good afternoon, Jason.” He glances at the flowers, “would you like me to prepare a vase?”

He nods. “That would be great.”

He stands by for a minute, watching the butler drink his tea. Alfred raises an eyebrow, not even glancing at the boy. “Y/n is in their room.”

“Thanks.”

Jason is nervous going up the stairs. He hasn’t seen you since that night when you were crying so hard you couldn’t breathe. He wanted to come back immediately, but he thought some breathing room would do you good. Plus, he had some business to take care of.

He stands outside your door for a minute before knocking gently. He waits patiently, hearing you shuffle softly to the door. When it swings open, that dull pain in his heart returns.

You’re dressed in a pair of pyjama pants and a Gotham PD shirt that most definitely belonged to Dick at some point. Your eyes are puffy but you don’t seem to be crying. Well, that’s a good sign.

“Jason,” you say softly, “you’re back.”

He gives you a half smile. He wasn’t sure if you would remember that he was even here, but you seemed almost pleased at his presence.

“Can we talk for a bit?” He asks.

“Oh, yeah.”

You let him into the room, going to sit in the corner of your bed. You tuck your chin in between your knees and Jason can’t help but notice how vulnerable you look.

“Door open or closed?”

It’s a simple question, but your shoulders come down from your ears and your jaw unclenches. “Open, please.”

He nods and swings the door fully open, going to sit on your desk chair. He sets his tote bag on your desk.

“These are for you,” he holds the bouquet of flowers out.

Your eyes light up at the black eyed susans and babies breath. You grab the bouquet from his hands and bring it up to your nose to smell them. The sweet aroma calms you.

“Thank you.”

He nods, leaning back in the chair. “How’ve you been?”

“Do you want the real answer?”

When Jason nods, you hesitate. You know out of everyone in the manor, he would be the most understanding of your feelings. He’s never been one to judge. But telling him everything you’ve been feeling is almost too much.

“I’m really angry.” You admit.

He stares at you, pretty blue eyes filled with nothing but understanding.

“Angry at everything, too. But I’m also scared and—and really paranoid. And I just wish—” you take a deep breath, “I don’t know.”

“There is nothing wrong with what you’re feeling right now,” he looks at you seriously. “And I mean nothing. Don’t be ashamed of any of the thoughts you’re having.”

“I want him dead,” you say suddenly.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him as soon as the words leave your mouth. All you’ve heard lately is how he’ll face the justice system and live a shitty life because of what he did. But that doesn’t feel like justice to you.

“He doesn’t deserve to live.”

Your head snaps up, eyes meeting his. His words shouldn’t stun you, but they do. He’s the only one who seems to understand what you’re feeling, what you need.

“Bruce keeps saying he’ll go to prison and to trust the system but I don’t think I’ll ever feel safe knowing he’s living in Gotham. And what am I supposed to do then? Move? It’s not fair to me, Jason. It’s not fucking fair.”

He sighs, “you know how Bruce is. He doesn’t understand that there’s more than one way to achieve justice and peace. He’s scared of the darker stuff.”

You nod, tilting your head back to try and blink away your tears before they fall. You’ve known Bruce since you were barely a teenager, and you know far too well that the allure of darkness is too great for him to ever dabble in it.

“Believe me,” he says quietly. “When I heard about what happened, I wanted to kill that piece of shit. Hell, even Dick wanted to kill him.”

“But you don’t anymore?”

He hesitates before he says “no.”

“Oh,” you say, the tears finally falling down your cheeks.

You thought if anyone could understand, if anyone would agree with you, it would be Jason. You thought you were on the same side, but clearly you’re wrong.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “It’s okay.”

“I-I thought you understood,” you sob out. “I don’t think I’ll ever feel okay again, not if he’s still alive.”

Jason’s own voice echoes in his head. But why? Why on God’s earth is he still alive? He sees so much of himself in you. So much anger and bitterness and resentment. And he knew what he needed when he was in that spot.

He reaches into his bag to pull out his phone. “I’m going to show you something, okay?”

“O-okay.”

Jason shuffles back until he’s sitting right next to you, giving you time to move away if you need to. He holds up his phone, the screen displaying a news article from early this morning.

‘Local Man Found Dead From Multiple Gunshot Wounds. Possible Gang Violence?’

Jason takes the phone away before you can see any pictures, shoving it in the back pocket of his jeans. He looks at you carefully, thoughts racing. He’s not sure how you’ll react.

The shock hits you first, and then the relief. “Is that—is that really…?”

You can’t bring yourself to say it. Instead, you look up at Jason with those vulnerable, tear filled eyes. The joy he feels at that spark of hope in your eyes could last him a lifetime.

“Yeah,” he swallows hard. “Yeah, it is.”

You practically pounce on him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. You can’t remember the last time you hugged him but you realize now that it’s been way too long. Jason squeezes you against him, the familiar scent of your hair calming every nerve in his body.

“Thank you,” you sob. “Oh my god, thank you.”

Jason gently rubs your back, nodding into your shoulder. He can’t help but tear up too.

You pull away, a shocked expression on your face. “I—I thought I would feel all better if he died but….”

“I know. But it’s going to take some time and that is okay. And now he’s fucking dead and he’ll never hurt you again. Okay?”

You burst into tears again and collapse into his arms. Jason holds you tightly to his chest, mumbling reassurance into your ear. You don’t feel completely better, but you feel safe, and for now, that’s more than enough.

—

It’s later that night when Jason sees Bruce again.

He doesn’t feel the nerves he usually does. He knows he’s seen the news by now and figured out it’s him, but he could care less what the man thinks. He tries to mind his business and avoid the wrath he’s so used to.

Everyone told him the same thing. That he did the right thing, that he did what no one else could. Even Dick had given him a giant hug, much to Jason’s annoyance.

“Jason.”

He freezes at the familiar raspy voice, spinning on his heel to face his adoptive father.

Bruce nods and places a hand on his shoulder. “You did the right thing.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd x you #jason todd angst #jason todd hurt/comfort #red hood angst #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood #hurt/comfort #angst #batfam #batfam x reader

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haveyouseenthisskeleton · 8 months ago

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Idk if you ever did an ask like this but I thought it was kinda cute

SO and skelly went out for ice cream, someone then bumped into skelly (or something startled them) and made their ice cream drop. SO, being a great datemate, offers them their ice cream instead. Reactions?

Undertale Sans - Aw. Nah, he gives it back to you. He's not a big fan of ice cream in the first place. He appreciates the gesture though. Just walking with you is already enough for his happiness.

Undertale Papyrus - Nonsense! You're not the one who makes the ice cream fall, it's that random person and he's going to explain the situation to the ice cream seller to have a new one. There's no way he's stealing your ice cream.

Underswap Sans - He's embarrassed and gives the ice cream back to you. He's not a big fan of sugary food in the first place. He's still salty about the money he lost though! Ice creams are expensive in this part of the town and he's so mad he didn't get to eat it. He hopes he won't see that guy again because he might tell them what he thinks of that.

Underswap Papyrus - Oh :( Honey looks at the ice cream on the floor, sad. It's probably his fault, he's too clumsy. He's happy when you propose your ice cream but insists you share it. You paid for that, he doesn't want to ruin your fun. He still calls you his hero though.

Underfell Sans - He doesn't hear you, he's too pissed off by what just happened. Red is going to drag the poor guy to the ice cream stand and make them pay for a second ice cream. You stare from a distance, wondering if you should intervene or let him have his moment of glory as he gets what he wants eventually.

Underfell Papyrus - "NO, THAT'S OK. I WAS TOLD A VERY YOUNG AGE THAT GOOD THINGS NEVER LAST LONG IN THIS PATHETIC WORLD." Ok, wow, now you're very concerned and insist he gets your ice cream even more. Edge is very dramatic about it, but eventually accepts to share yours very reluctantly. You swear he's going to be your end someday.

Horrortale Sans - He stares at you with wide eyes. No, he can't do that! That's your food! What if you starve? You still insist he has it. Oak is very touched and ends up taking it like it's the rarest treasure he ever held. He still buys you a gigantic one later that day because the thought you might be starving still stays in his head. And he doesn't want that.

Horrortale Papyrus - What? No! Keep it, it's yours. He always has random things to eat in his pockets, you need your ice cream more than him. You're a bit concerned if he's having a traumatic episode or not as he seems to confuse a bit the Underground and the real world suddenly. You force him to sit for a bit and go to buy another ice cream so you don't stress him more. He's VERY thankful for that.

Swapfell Sans - No. He's grumpy and salty so he's going to be a pain in the butt and says no to everything. He's pouting, and despite being a literal millionaire, you're the one who goes to pay him another ice cream so he stops acting like a child. He wants to refuse it at first, just because, but you give him the big angry eyes and he ends up accepting it. He won't stop criticizing the taste though lol, just to be annoying.

Swapfell Papyrus - What? No! He could never take that ice cream from you. But that's fine because you know what else he has? A brother holding another ice cream. Nox growls at him, protecting his ice cream, but then Rus says that surely Nox wouldn't want Alphys to know the general of the royal guard can throw temper tantrums over ice creams, think of his reputation! Rus ends up having his ice cream, Nox is a jerk with you for the rest of the week despite all of this not being your fault at all. Only Rus is happy in this story.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He gives you a look of pure disdain. What do you think? That he needs your pity? He huffs, continues to walk and completely ignores you. He has his pride, but it's hard to take him seriously with that huge chocolate stain on his white shirt honestly. You prefer not to mention that, you have a feeling he's not going to like it.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - You got a bit scared he might actually lick the ice cream from the floor. Coffee's eyes shine as you give him your ice cream. Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you! He tackles you for a hug. Your ice cream crashes on the floor because of the hug. ... Ah.

#undertale #underswap #underfell #horrortale #swapfell #fellswap gold #sans #papyrus #undertale ask blog #undertale asks #undertale imagines #undertale headcanons

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askinkiskarma · 2 years ago

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𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕚𝕟 𝕄𝕖 | ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕀𝕀: 𝕀 𝔸𝕞 𝕃𝕠𝕤𝕥, 𝔹𝕦𝕥 ℕ𝕠𝕥 𝕀𝕟 𝕐𝕠𝕦

Pairing: Neteyam x (f)Omaticaya!Reader

synopsis: in order to fulfil your revenge plans on Neteyam, you have to give up a lot of your life, including a future with a man who loves you dearly.

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, aged-up! Neteyam/Reader, enemies-to-lovers, angst (@lanasblood trying to be better about this), smut (fingering, orgasm denial), strong language, neteyam and reader being horrible to each other lol

wc: 6.5k words

a/n: things are starting to get spicy besties 😌 i have to admit, although i am a lot more comfortable with friends-to-lovers, or more angsty tropes, i adore writing the sexual tension that comes with e2l and i hope i did it justice and you enjoy this chapter. i can't wait to hear your thoughts, bbs and thank you again for all the love and support on this series xx (thank you very much also to @cinetrix for her amazing Neteyam art ily bestie x)

this is only half proof-read, so if you see any mistakes no you don't

na'vi compendium: yawne - beloved, Tsakarem - Tsa'hik in training, tìlor - beauty, txepvi - spark

: ̗̀➛ previous chapter (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series playlist (x)

In a perfect world, I'd kill to love you the loudest But all I do is live to hurt you soundless Say you see I'm lying, babe, and let this go I can never promise you tomorrow

The departing footsteps echoed through the forest as O'ì'en left you all alone, with a broken heart and the man that broke it, and the feeling left you empty, the hurt of what transpired, of what he did, what you did, how with each passing blow to each other’s lives, this was no longer just a petty rivalry but felt like so much more, like too much more. You threatened him, you spit all sorts of petty warnings about hell and burning - and in the heat of the moment, that sounded cool, and doable. Not anymore, as you stood motionless in the clearing and realised that Neteyam still had so much power over you, that his grasp on your life and on your heart was so tight, tighter than anyone else’s, tight enough to bruise and crush it with a tug of his fisted fingers. You removed yourself from his grasp like his touch burned you, which it felt like it did, and put distance in between your bodies, so that you could see him, so that you could clear your mind, so that his presence wouldn’t have the effect on you it always did, that you were sure was just your body recoiling in hatred, that always manifested itself in goosebumps and shivers down your spine.

“You’re such a fucking asshole.” The tears stung as you willed them back into your tear ducts. It’s been 7 years since Neteyam has seen you cry, and you’ll be damned if that would ever change, and especially right now, as you watched the smirk grow with every departing step, with every erratic blink of your eyes, as you tried to stop them from falling down your face, as he knew he got to you, that he made you pay for the words you uttered to him before.

“Oh, yawne. One day you’ll learn to not punch above your weight, and I guess since no one else is willing to, it falls onto me to teach you.” He walks slow, purposeful steps as he nears you once more, and his eyes boring into you, filled with intensity and a feeling you couldn’t quite place, that didn’t quite match the arrogance staining his lips like poison, stilled you in your spot, until he was so close, you could feel his warm breath and musky scent, until your heart boomed painfully in your chest, echoing loudly in your ears, marginally drowning out his next words.

“Did you really think you could threaten me and everything I’ve worked for, my relationship and the rest of my life, without any repercussions, huh? Did you really think I would go down without a fight?”

His hand raised and reached to push some unruly strands of hair out of your face, and you couldn’t look away from the soft glimmer in his eyes, that was so at odds with the rest of his face, you wondered if he even knew it was there. You wondered if he knew what it signified, because you didn’t. And despite your best efforts otherwise, you couldn’t deny the curiosity that deluged you, to try and find out.

The hint in his molten golden orbs dissipated as quickly as it appeared, and so did any middling emotion that tried you, as you once more found yourself reaching for your knife and unsheathing it, holding it in between both your hands, aiming for a shoulder… or a neck, and with a feral growl, you pushed your entire forced into the blow, and yelped in pain as one of his hands wrapped around both your wrists and twisted until the knife dropped pitifully on the ground with a loud clink. Tears threatened you once more at how futile the effort had been, how easy for him to overpower you like you were nothing more than a child, or a doll. He pinned your hands above your head and pushed you until your back collided with the bark of a tree and you felt the wind getting knocked out of your lungs at the contact.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk… why must you always resort to violence… yawne?” Your eyes widened as the hand that wasn’t holding you ghosted over your cheeks, tracing the air right above your lips with his thumb, and you were struggling, yet again, with the feelings that were plaguing you, that made burning appear everywhere his fingers were, burning the travelled down your body until they reached your core, that throbbed and clenched, that desperately asked you for something you would never, ever give it. After exploring your face, and tracing your jaw, his fingers finally settled on your chin, pushing it gently until your face angled upwards to meet his and no further breath could inch its way down your airways at the sight of him, at the way he looked at you, at the way it made you feel.

“You told me that you won’t mind burning in Hell as long as I burn with you. Well…” he broke eye contact to look around him at the forest surrounding you both. “Do you hear that, yawne? Fire is catching. And looks like we’re going to get to burn together after all.”

“Let me go. I told you what would happen if you ever touched me again.” His smirk never faltered, but only deepened as his eyes trailed over your body, settling on your lower abdomen.

“Mmm, yawne. I’m not sure you mean that.” It was your turn to reciprocate his guise, no ounce of shame or hesitation on your face.

“Let me go and you’ll find out whether I mean it or not.” his eyes widened, if only for a split second, and you felt like you imagined his grip on you loosening, or the fleeting sight of goosebumps peppered on his chest and neck, where your warm breath touched him.

“Are you really going to miss your chance to find lover boy and apologise like the good girl you like people to think you are?”

Your eyes lost momentary focus as he spoke. His words, although as cruel as usual, made guilt peak its ugly head over the thin-veiled curtain it was hiding behind, and you knew he was right. This was irrelevant. This whole fandangle of aggression and snarky remarks you always engaged in was not what should be occupying your brain, it wasn’t what mattered. O'ì'en mattered. Fixing Neteyam’s damage… and your own - that’s the only thing that mattered right now.

“Funny how quickly you seem to have forgotten about the one you supposedly love so much when I have your hands pinned above your head, isn’t it… yawne.”

His hands trailed over your arm as if on accident as he let you go and you felt embarrassed. Embarrassed at his words, at his effect on you, at how hard you were fighting your own body and mind as they were struggling to regain composure from his touch, and his voice, and his presence.

Hate. That’s all it was. It consumed you, and you wish it didn’t, but at the end of the day, it was still just harmless, bona fide, unadulterated hate. You ignored the way your cheeks caught fire and burned beneath your skin as you ran towards the village, towards where you assumed O’i’en was headed, without sparing your biggest, your only enemy a second glance.

'Cause I have yet to learn how not to be his This city will surely burn if we keep this as it is

You spent hours searching for him, but despite trying every place you knew he liked to frequent, all efforts proved futile. You knew he wouldn’t want to be found, but still, you held a glimmer of hope in your heart that at least subconsciously, he’d want you to find him, to allow him to explain what was mostly inexplainable and inexcusable - you couldn’t blame him for proving you wrong.

Eventually, as eclipse was nearing with each passing moment, defeated and regretful, you went to the nearby river, that was almost deserted due to the approaching evening, that you hoped would bring you some answers, or some solace… some strength. What were you supposed to do? Were you supposed to listen to Eywa, and your own heart telling you to go for this mateship that you knew was wrong, but felt drawn towards, for your own twisted, sadistic reasons? Or should you listen to your mind who told you to fight for what you knew would be a comfortable, healthy future, one that didn’t particularly enthral you, but hoped you could aspire to and embrace in time, with the insight that came with getting older? As always, the war between your mind and heart led to a painful impasse where both of them were bloodied and injured, but no discernible winners were left to claim victory on the choice, or on all the questions that plagued you.

You recognised Jake’s steps and his scent as he approached you, and you sighed. You were not in the mood for a lecture. Sure enough, he sat next to you, looking at the waterfall falling violently into the otherwise peaceful river, that rippled and bruised at the contact. It was funny to you now, sitting here, how that was a perfect metaphor for your relationship with Neteyam, how in his presence, you were just a river, and he was a force of nature, there to disturb and perturb, there to change you, so aggressive and formidable, and so strangely necessary. You were sad at how much his presence in your life mattered, how you knew that despite all the hurt and the pain, you owed him so much of who you were, so much of where you were. Because he pushed you every day, to be better, to strive for more, to want to be more like him in some ways, less like him in others - a better daughter, a better friend, a better sibling, a better soldier, a better warrior, a better clan member.

“Hey, kid. What are you doing here, eclipse will be upon us soon. You know the rules.”

“I know the rules, Jake. And with all due respect, right now, I really couldn’t care less about them.”

You turned to him and noted his expression melting from one of annoyance, raised eyebrow and an open mouth, ready to chastise you for your insubordination and recalcitrance, into a soft and pitying one, as he took in your tear-stained face and trembling lips. You never cried, not in front of anyone who mattered, so the fact that here you stood, so obviously distressed, concerned Jake more than he could say out loud.

“What’s wrong, baby girl? What happened?”

“I… I need to find O'ì'en… I’ve been looking for hours, but I can’t find him. Have you seen him anywhere?” Your sniffles and a hoarse, broken voice were more than enough to bring a grimace to the Olo’eyktan’s face.

“Oh, honey…” his arms circled your much smaller body and he squeezed, the much needed hug warm and very welcome. Your hand tightened around his forearm, and you started sobbing silently as he held you. You’ve always been immensely grateful for the Sullys and their patriarch, but especially so in moments like this, when his paternal instincts kicked in, a role he was much better at than he ever gave himself credit for.

“I ruined it… I ruined everything. I should have told him, I should have been honest with him. I should have come to you and asked you to free me of this responsibility that I never wanted to shoulder in the first place.”

“You can still ask, kid. We would never force you into something you genuinely aren’t comfortable with, and you should know that. In fact, you do know that. But you didn’t come. Why?”

You had no answer to that, because truthfully, you didn’t know. Getting revenge on Neteyam wasn’t a good enough answer, and more and more, you realised that - and you knew Jake would challenge you on it as soon as the words came out of your mouth. Getting revenge isn’t a good enough reason to sacrifice your own happiness, and liberty, your future as a warrior and your future with the man you wanted to want so badly. It wasn’t a good enough reason because it wasn’t the reason - not the only reason, not the full reason, but that was something you couldn't think about, you couldn't even fathom, not yet, so you didn't.

At your lack of response, Jake sighed and looked contemplatively at the river being perturbed by the waterfall crashing on it, at the way the water rippled and undulated, at the way the bioluminescent glow of the underwater plankton, that was visible now that eclipse settled over the land, warped under its force.

“Did I ever tell you I had this girlfriend back on Earth? This was when I was young, about your age.” You shook your head softly, not looking at him, still focused and mesmerised by the same view he was studying.

“She was amazing. So kind, and sweet, and beautiful… and good. Too good for me. And I loved her. She was the first girl I looked at and thought that maybe, just maybe, she would be the one. I used to pick her up after her classes were over and we would just drive in my car, just down the coast, in Anaheim at sundown, and I remember feeling so happy, thinking that I would feel this way the rest of my life.”

You thought about that, and about your boyfriend, who very much seemed like what Jake was describing, who brought you comfort and safety. You thought about walking with him in this place Jake called Anaheim, in a heavenly place away from hurt and pain, away from mistakes and fears, just two people who loved each other, who wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. You felt grief envelop you when the face that appeared in your visions wasn’t the one you wanted to see, the one you hoped you’d see, the one you needed to see. You hated your brain and your heart for not allowing you to commit to him the way you knew you should, in the way that would ensure you a future of happiness and peace, a love worth harbouring, a pure and kind love, just like the one Jake described.

“What happened? Between… you and her, I mean?” Jake shrugged, a small, content smile on his face.

“It just didn’t work out. I joined the military, she continued her studies. We would have never worked. I wasn’t good enough for her, and she deserved someone who could love her the way she was meant be loved. Anaheim is still a beautiful memory to me, and I’ll always cherish it, but it made way for something much, much better. For both of us.

I think sometimes we hold on to things we think we need, we want to want, but these things pertain to a version of ourselves that isn’t fully authentic. I think it’s easy to pretend when we’re with certain people that life is one way, that we could fit in it, in this world we’ve created in our heads, in the world that they inspire, but the sooner we accept the realities of our circumstances, of who we are and where we truly belong, the more time we have to enjoy life for how it’s meant to be lived: fully, wildly, being wholly ourselves.”

He stood up and headed back towards the village, not before giving you an affectionate pat on the head and a squeeze of your shoulders. His last words echoed in your ears long after he departed, leaving you with so much to think about, and so much pain at knowing he was right, and that soon, you’d have to break a heart and learn to mend your own.

“You can still ask, kid. I just think, deep down, Anaheim isn’t for you… just like it wasn’t for me.”

But I'd give anything to stop time And drive around Anaheim at sun down And teach my mind to put you first

It took the whole night, but you eventually found him, after a painful conversation with his mother, at a different river he used to love coming to as a little kid with his father, one much further away from the village. He was sitting on the river bank, lost in thought, his feet dangling mindlessly in the water that rushed downstream, agitated and tumultuous, much like your mind. You sighed deeply, trying your hardest to build up the courage for the most difficult conversation you’ve ever had, one in which you knew the end result was a broken heart, one that you caused, that you never meant to, that you would never want. You knew what it was like to be broken-hearted, sad and unmoored from the reality you’ve built up in your mind, from your hopes and dreams, from the future you were promised and now will never have again. But after the conversation with Jake, you knew it was the right thing to do. You loved O'ì'en, you truly did, just not enough to ever give him everything he needed and deserved, not for the rest of your life. You had darkness in you he would never be skilled enough to wander through, to bring light into, and you would never want him to try, not when it would dim his own light, that deserved to be nourished and heightened by someone, who much like him, was good and pure, and better than you’d ever be.

“O'ì'en…”

He wasn’t startled by your presence. His gaze didn’t shift from where it was intently fixed, and you knew you shouldn’t expect that it did. You wouldn’t want to look at yourself, either.

“You know, I watched for so long the interactions between you and Neteyam, and they always made me sad and uncomfortable. The hatred that I could not understand, that seemed to occupy so much of your time and space in both your minds, that consumed you both. I watched it, and I wanted to say something, but I never thought it was my place. It hurt me, seeing you suffer at his hands, and hurt me that you always reciprocated, that you never took the high road, that you always felt the need to one-up him, to give as good as you got. It was so toxic and unhealthy, and I hoped in time, you’d move away from it. I hoped I could help you. But now, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to, not anymore. And I don’t know if I want to.”

Tears rolled down your face with every word uttered, with every sentence that cut deeper and deeper in you, until you were bleeding and bruised, until it all hurt, being here, seeing him, hearing him, the past and the future, the present and your actions, and Neteyam’s actions, and everything that lead to this moment. It was so much easier to get your heart broken, you realise faintly, than to break a heart. Heartbroken, you could pity yourself, victimise yourself, tell yourself and the world that it’s not you, but the other person, the one who instigated it. You can sleep at night knowing you were wronged, that if it wasn’t for the pain that someone else caused you, things would be different, easier. There was nothing easy about watching a good person suffer and knowing you caused it, and you wondered how you were ever going to fall asleep again, how were you going to be able to live with yourself.

“I didn’t choose this, O'ì'en… any of this. I need you to know this. Mo’at asked us to come to her as a matter of urgency the other day, she told us that Eywa gave her a sign, showed her a vision, and that by her will, Neteyam and I will have to become a mated-pair.” You felt bad about leaving out certain… extenuating circumstances, but you realise that sometimes, certain things are better left unsaid and once some words are uttered, some actions taken, they can’t be recalled, they can’t be reversed, they won’t dematerialise - their echoes will forever ring through time, leaving damage and hurt in their wake, and you didn’t want that - not for him.

“Have you told her you don’t want to? Have you gone to the Tsa’hik, or the Olo’eyktan, or the Tsakarem and talked to them, told them you are in love with someone else, that you made up your mind? Did you fight for us at any point? For me?”

Your eyes widened at his words, that had an edge to them you’ve never observed in him before, that you didn’t even realise he was truly capable of. The words stung needles on your skin and in your eyes, that had prickling tears still falling uninterrupted, like summer rain, soaking your heart and soul that hurt because you knew that you couldn’t give him an answer that would satisfy him… you couldn’t give him an answer at all.

“They look at you like you’re their daughter. They would listen to you if you asked. But you didn’t, did you?”

“I once overheard Lo’ak talk about you and Neteyam to his human friend. He was concerned about you. About both of you. But aside from that, he talked about you two like you were an inevitability. About passion that ran so deep there was no way only hatred fuelled it. That there must be something underneath it all. I heard this and it made me angry at the time… I thought that he was unreasonable and out of line. Naively, I took your affection at face value and never looked beyond. Until now, that is. When I realised that in our time together, all the time we shared, all the moments that were sweet and innocent and everything I’ve ever wanted, you’ve never once shared even a fraction of that passion for me.”

“O'ì'en, no…”

“I think, deep down, you don’t want to get out of this because it’s finally a way to bridge the gap that has existed between you and Neteyam for so long, a gap you secretly wished had never existed. I think you’ve been in love with him since you were children, and this was the perfect opportunity to change a path you thought was set in stone before. I think he’s in love with you, too. But both of you are too mean, too stubborn with each other to see past your differences. To talk.”

“You’re wrong.” The temper was rising in your chest as his head continued shaking, denying your statement, as his words were processing in your mind, the unbelievable, insane, unreasonable words that you couldn’t believe were being uttered right before you, not by him. You wanted to scream at him, to shout and tell him that it’s all wrong, all of this, everything is all wrong. That the passion he’s talking about is just intense dislike that was so grand, so overpowering, it couldn’t be contained inside your body, nor inside his. That you were not in love with Neteyam - you hated Neteyam. With every fibre of your being, you loathed the man that hurt you so deeply, so intimately, for so long, that forsook the past you shared and the memories you made and what you meant to him, or what he meant to you.

You wanted to tell him that he’s delusional in ever thinking that man could ever be in love with you, when all he did was find new ways to torture you, to belittle you, to make you feel lesser than him, lesser than anyone he knew. How could that ever be love? How could that ever work? This was love. What you had with O'ì'en. Pure and good and kind and easy. Love wasn’t supposed to hurt, right? Love was supposed to feel natural, like coming home after a long, exhausting day, it wasn’t supposed to be what made the day long and exhausting in the first place. He was so wrong.

But you didn’t find it in you to argue with him. Not with him. Someone else will have to bear the consequences of your repressed anger, but not O'ì'en, because he deserves better than what he got, and what you gave, and in truth.. none of this mattered anyway. Arguing would make no difference in this doomed relationship, so you calmed yourself for the time being and spoke in as even of a tone you could manage.

“O'ì'en… I think you’re wrong. But, it doesn’t matter. You’re right that I didn’t talk to Mo’at, and that I should have. Regardless of the circumstances that led to this, I am so sorry. I will forever be sorry for the way you found out, for the way this came to be. I’m so sorry you had to be collateral damage in a war that is only mine to bear. I had a whole plan about how to tell you, I had so many things I wanted to say to you. That I’m grateful to you, and that I love you. That I’m sorry it wasn’t the way that you deserve to be loved, but I do love you. That I will never forget you, and your affection that shone so brightly over me, that was a safe haven from the bad storms I’ve had to weather for so long. That I’ll be sorry every day that I wasn’t good enough for you, but am relieved by the notion that one day, you’ll find someone so much better than me, someone who will be able to give you everything you deserve and then some, and I’m relieved in knowing you will be thankful to have been rid of me.”

You decided this would have to be enough for now. One day, maybe you’ll be able to face him again. One day, maybe he’ll even be able to spare you a glance, or a smile. But not today.

“I hope you forgive me one day.”

“Me, too.”

But I'd give anything to stop time, commit to you and not crimes Against your truth and lose sight of every divide threatening to undo this story But baby, I'm so sorry, I don't think that I'll ever memorise this route

It was a long way back to the village, and with every step taken and every moment passed, the anger that you tried to stifle for his sake came back ten fold - the tiring days of fighting, of crying, of suffering, of uncertainty and rampant emotions all building up within you, all coming to a calamitous zenith that threatened to spill all around you, that begged and urged for revenge, for payback on the man that caused it all, the man that was at the centre of all your life’s woes.

He ruined your relationship? Well… let’s see how he’ll like a taste of his own medicine. You knew exactly where you’ll find him, because you knew he’d be in the place he knew he could pester you the most, in a place that’s supposed to be yours, that he tainted over and over, that you will make sure to conquer back from him, the way you eventually would all of the pieces of yourselves he’s taken from you through time.

Your tent was quiet and untouched, unlike the little nook behind it, that was completely segregated from the rest of the clan, an oasis of secrecy and privacy in an otherwise bustling environment. A place that should be yours alone, but now hid two Na’vi, one of them mewling softly at the actions of the other. Neteyam was focused on his mate’s neck, their make-out session so intense, they didn’t even notice you until it was too late, until you stood behind them, until your presence was announced by a deep sigh and a disappointed click of your tongue.

“Oh, how disappointing.”

The girl let out a distressed yelp at your voice and pushed Neteyam off of her, eliciting a deep growl from the man that was less than impressed by the interruption.

“Am I interrupting?”

You saw Neteyam’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of you, at the way he knew what was coming. You laughed at his expression. What did he think was going to happen after what he’s done? What did he think you were going to do finding them here? The evil smirk that possessed you reminded you of his, and you wondered if this is how panicked you looked, too, when you saw him approaching you and O'ì'en.

“You know, if you’re going to continue going against the Olo’eyktan and the Tsa’hik’s wishes and cheat on your mate, I wouldn’t do it… you know, right outside of her tent.”

“WHAT?!” The high-pitched screech nearly deafened you, but you didn’t let it show. Instead you just watched as Neteyam scrambled to get himself out of the eye of the storm threatening to tear him apart.

“Tìlor, I -“

“Ah, your boyfriend didn’t tell you?” Your smile was sickeningly sweet as you approached the couple, stopping right next to Neteyam, placing a hand on his arm, tracing the protruding veins that made saliva pool in your mouth, and you bit back a laugh at the girl’s rabid look, that looked a lot like she was going to pounce on you at any given moment - you hoped she did. Nothing would make you happier than to have an excuse to rearrange her braids. This girl that always looked down on you, that looked at you like you were an outsider or a freak, that never even tried to mask her jealousy, her disdain, her fear at the fact the Sullys preferred you, and always will.

“I will be your Tsa’hik soon. Isn’t that right… yawne?”

“So unless you want me to go and tell the clan leaders… and your mother… and your father, and everyone who matters that you’ve been fucking someone else’s mate and watch as little by little, your entire world falls apart around you, I suggest you realise this man right here, he’s not worth it. Not worth all the drama, not worth all the fuss. Just go, and find yourself a single mate, and give thanks to Eywa she’s rid you of him, cause damn, I know I wish I could be.”

The hatred in her eyes was slowly replaced with fear and embarrassment, and for a second, just a second - you felt bad for her. Because no matter how badly she’s treated you, how she’s adopted Neteyam’s behaviour as her own with no reason or rhyme, much like O'ì'en, she was also just another collateral victim in a war that kept claiming lives and hearts, and you wondered where, if at all, the line would be drawn, when, if ever, would enough be enough?

You watched as she scrambled to fasten her top around her neck properly and without another word, she was gone, leaving just you and Neteyam alone, with enough tension in the air around you to suffocate you, to feel like smoke from a fire so grand, you didn't know if weren’t skilled enough to put out.

'Cause I have yet to know how to be mine You can try to unearth this soul I swear you'll hate what you find

“Why?”

“You’re making out with someone behind my tent, knowing that would piss me off, after what you did yesterday, and you have the nerve to ask me why?” you threw your head back and laughed at the outrageousness of the question. Neteyam wasn’t stupid - far from it. He was also not naive, or oblivious, or harebrained. The question had no business coming out of his mouth, but yet it did. You didn't have time to ponder the reasons why.

“You see, Neteyam, I think you came here because you knew I’d come. Because you secretly wanted me to. Because you know deep down that this girl has nothing to offer you, and you just needed an easy way out to rid yourself of her, and you needed me to do your dirty work for you again. Well, you’re welcome, Neteyam. What the fuck would you ever do without me, huh?”

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite. All the theatricals of being heartbroken over what I did to O'ì'en and then you do the exact same thing to someone else, someone innocent.”

“Innocent, ha! You think I give a shit about your little girlfriend’s feelings, when you treated O'ì'en the way you did? He didn’t deserve this, Neteyam. Any of this. He’s good man, he respects you, and looks up to you. He -“

“He should have known better than to associate himself with you.” His bared fangs didn’t do as much to scare you, not nearly as much as his proximity to you did, at the way his eyes stared daggers at your face, that even in the heat of the moment, at the peak of anger and hatred, couldn’t help settle on your parted, wet lips. “He should have known better and realise that all you bring in people’s life is disappointment and pain. He also should have known better and realise you didn’t love him. That you never will. That you might try to act like it and convince yourself, but someone like him would never, ever satisfy you.”

“And who the fuck would satisfy me, Neteyam? You? That’s rich. I bet your poor little girlfriend’s happy she’s rid of you. Bet you haven’t made her cum once. Too busy thinking of training and ruining my life, too busy thinking about how great you think you are to make room for anyone else in there.” You poked him in the chest with your index finger, right over his heart. Your touch lingered on his body, somehow unable to bring yourself to stop, half in awe at the way his heart was racing, at the way yours beat almost in sync with his, at the way you tried to convince yourself it’s because of the anger you were feeling, and no other reason.

“Yeah? Is that what you think?”

And there he was again, once more grabbing you by your throat, and you wanted to object, and fight him, but you didn’t - you couldn’t -, not as you felt throbbing deep within you at the action, not as you had to push your thighs together to accommodate for the increasingly uncomfortable sensation, not as your loincloth was becoming more and more damp by the second. And you remember your words, and remember that you told him that if he ever touched you again, you’ll make him pay for it, but right now, in this moment, you couldn’t find it in you to speak a word, as the intensity of his gaze knocked the air out of your lungs and his fingers squeezed just enough so no more could get back in you. Your back scratched painfully against a tree as he pushed you into it, and you couldn’t help a small moan as his other hand pushed your loincloth to the side, brushing over your folds that were now sopping and swollen. He let out a soft chuckle as he felt you.

“If that’s what you really thought, you wouldn’t be dripping on my fingers right now, tsxepvi.”

Slowly, deliberately, he started exploring your heat, thumb ghosting over your clit as he watched you squirm under his touch, struggling between what you knew you should do, between your conscious mind telling you you were going to pay for this in tears and heartache, and your subconscious mind screaming to let go, to embrace the overbearing desire to give in to him, as you did in the dreams you convinced yourself in time were nightmares, but knew more and more each day that it was just another lie you told yourself to keep going.

One side of you won by a landslide, as he gently pushed two fingers in you, as he started increasing the pressure with which he was massaging your clit, and it felt so good, too good, better than anything you’ve ever felt before. You tried to contain the sounds coming through gritted teeth with all your might, knowing what he was doing, knowing giving him any indication of the pleasure he was giving you would mean another thing you’d have to pay for later, knowing you couldn’t allow him to enjoy this, you couldn’t possibly give him the satisfaction of knowing he could do this to you, but you couldn’t stop, not when his fingers curled in you and found the spongy part that made you see glimmering, blinding lights and his thumb circled your needy bud in the perfect way to heighten the sensations running through you, electrifying your every nerve. The moans turn into mewls as he increases the pressure and his pace, and you felt the pleasure in you reach a high that you were ready to ride out, your orgasm so close you could practically taste it, and you’re barely able to think about how fucking quick it was, how it took no time at all for him to get you there, how skilled his fingers, as they worked his ministrations on you. You had no will to think about what the fuck was happening, how weird it was, how the man you’ve hated for so long is doing this to you, before the feeling got too overwhelming to be contained anymore.

“Fuck, i’m gonna -“

“That’s right, tsxepvi. I can feel you squeezing my fingers. You want to come for me?”

“Argh, I-“

The moan you let you wasn’t of pleasure, it was of deep, throbbing pain as the emptiness overtook you, as soon as he removed his fingers.

He smirked, an evil smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as his fingers found his lips and he sucked on them, his tongue swirling in between them, licking every single drop.

“You taste fucking amazing, tsxepvi. Maybe next time, if you apologise and behave, you’ll actually get to cum.”

And with that, he was gone, living you an empty, horrified mess, as the high came crashing down violently and the consequences of the last few minutes replaced it to lead you in a spiral of mixed thoughts and feelings, each one more terrifying than the last.

'Cause I am lost, but not in you Yes, I am lost, but not in you

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jasntodds · 10 months ago

Text

Penance [3]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 10,943

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, a little bit of angst, some fluff, mentions of death, mentions of injuries, the case jason is working is a reference to red hood: lost days

Summary:❝Thesus: Stop. Give me your hand. I am your friend. Herakles: I fear to stain your clothes with blood. Thesus: Stain them. I don’t care.❞

It’s been a month and a half since Crane’s reign of terror was stopped, leaving Gotham to finally return to normal. But, what is normal? After everything Jason and you have been through, it seems normal might be some unobtainable dream state. But that’s not going to stop either of you from trying and maybe, you’ll get lucky in the end. At the end of it, the two of you have suffered enough, right?

Right?

A/N: I'm so sorry for the late chapter!! I had family from out of town here that I haven't seen in like 15 years lol and then I was sick lol 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!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

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You head home, the smile not leaving your face. Despite your thing for running, you've been doing better. You got better about it before Jason died. And you're choosing tonight, to not run from it. A part of you thought maybe you would because Jason deserves better. But your heart beats to the sound of his name. And there is nothing you’ll ever be able to do about it. He has ruined you for anyone else and you can’t even be mad because you only ever want him anyway. Even if that means friends. So, instead of running and punishing yourself tonight, you let the smile plaster itself over your face and you let your heart beat wildly while your stomach spins with butterflies.

Molly’s attention is pulled to the door as you lean against it, closing it.

“Hey.” Moly chimes. “How’d it go?” She asks, seeing the lazy smile across your face, gathering hope for her friends.

“Good.” You push off the door before you kick off your shoes. “Tim suspects nothing. I’m sure he will at some point and we’re gonna start tomorrow.” You explain, noticing the laptop open in front of Molly but seeing Goodreads open instead of anything of importance, immediately telling you Molly's been waiting for you.

“Oh, we’re?" Molly beams with a teasing grin. "So you guys talked?” Molly's eyes track you as you walk over to the sink.

“Yes.” You answer and the smile doesn't budge. “We train Tim tomorrow.” You state casually as you grab a small bag of Cheetos from the cabinet beside the sink.

Molly eyes you as you jump onto the counter, sitting to face Molly before opening your bag of Cheetos. You offer no other explanation. No part of Molly should even be surprised because of course, you aren't going to give her any detail unless she asks specific questions.

“You haven’t spoken to him in a month and a half. You’ve been asking about him at least every other day. And that’s it?”

You sway your feet, not quite letting your heels touch the cabinet below you as you shrug. “It’s kind of weird. I don’t know.” You shake your head before eating a Cheeto. “It was really nice to see him though.” Your voice is soft as you divert your eyes to the bag in your hands, a tender smile on your lips.

Molly's chest warms with your response. It's not that you've been miserable or even all too unhappy over the last month. It's just that it's very clear something is missing. It's clear that it's been hard for you and some of that is your own doing to yourself. Tonight, you seem calm, not as on edge as you usually are. Before tonight, it was as if you were just anticipating something horrible to happen at any second but now you're sitting peacefully on the counter, your face clear of any worry lines and your brows aren't tugged together in thought. It's a bit of a relief from where Molly is sitting.

“Are you done punishing yourself?” Molly asks.

You snap your attention back to Molly before you scoff. “What?”

“You’re punishing yourself for what happened." Molly states simply. You won't explain hardly anything about your own blame. Molly isn't sure if it's just the death of Jason or if it's the whole fallout after, maybe both. But, Molly does know you and she knows you've been punishing yourself, regardless on if you'll ever talk about it. "Are you done? Now that you got to talk to him. I told you, he’s doing okay.”

“You always said you’re worried.” You point a Cheeto at Molly, intentionally avoiding the question.

“There will never be a point in time I’m not worried about him. He's Jason. Red Hood, Robin, just Jason. He’s always up to something.” Molly states with a soft laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, he is.” You let out a sigh. “I just…I really didn’t think he wanted to talk.” You shrug your shoulders. “I didn’t want to intrude on his space and ruin something for him, ya know? I mean…he died and he was really getting help and trying to get better, I didn’t wanna call and ruin that for him.” You shake your head as you chew the inside of your cheek.

That is not the full reason but it is the reason you're willing to say. You know if you tell Molly everything, Molly will tell you that it’s ridiculous. She’ll say it’s been forgiven. She’ll tell Jason and Jason will feel guilty, probably. Jason will bring it up so it doesn’t eat you alive. It's not something you want at all right now. So, you stick with half the story.

“I get it.” Molly nods her head. “At least you guys are talking now.” Molly smiles softly. "I could have told you he wanted to talk though if that was all you needed to know."

"Did he say something?" You question almost a little too quickly, making Molly laugh.

"No." Molly shakes her head. "But he always asked about you. He was asking Gar, too." Molly explains simply as she watches your brows furrow. "He wouldn't have if he didn't want to talk. You two have got to learn how to communicate."

"You're talking to Gar?" You ask, bypassing the entire point of Molly's explanation.

"Yeah?" Molly questions easily but she takes a page from your book and offers no other explanation. "Don't change the subject."

You let out a chortle. "Pretty sure all of our problems would be solved if we communicated." You scrunch your nose before finishing off your Cheetos.

"Okay, so we're in agreement. So, tomorrow, you're gonna see him and tell him that you still think about him all the time and this time a part was a huge waste of time?" Molly gives you a cheeky grin.

You nod quickly before flipping her off with the raise of your brows, making Molly just laugh in response. “I’m gonna shower and head to bed though. I will update you when there is something to be updated on with the Jason front.”

“Thank you.” Molly beams with sarcasm.

Meanwhile, Jason is with Tim. Tim has a lot of questions, that’s for sure. You said he was insistent but Jason had no idea. Tim has been asking questions ever since you left and it’s not even annoying. He just wants to know things about Robin and Batman, being a vigilante, stuff about Jason. Jason finds it a bit funny because it's very reminiscent of his early days as Robin, filled with questions and hope. Tim wants to know about Red Hood but he avoids asking about his death. It’s mostly what he’s doing now and how it all works. He asks about his Robin days. Jason doesn’t talk a lot about them but he tries to offer something that isn’t bitter or sad or discouraging for Tim.

“Think I’ll find Venta?” Tim asks, changing up his line of questioning for a minute.

“Don’t know.” Jason shrugs before he takes a squig of his beer. “If y/n can’t figure it out with you, might not even be in the city.” Jason lies with ease.

“What do I do then?” Tim is desperate for this mission to go smoothly. It's his first time as Robin and he doesn't want to let Dick down.

“Go back to Metropolis.” Jason states.

“Yeah, I guess.” Tim lets out a defeated sigh.

If anyone knows what it's like to not want to disappoint someone like Dick, it's Jason. It's hard and he doesn't fault Dick for this plan. Jason will give it to him, it makes sense, it's a good idea. But, Tim isn't going to find Venta and Jason feels for him.

“Boyfriend, huh?” Jason changes the subject in hopes of taking Tim's mind off of Venta for at least a second.

“Uh, yeah.” Tim nods his head, shifting in his seat. “Bernard.” Tim's heart weighs heavy in his chest.

Jason nods once. “How long has he been in the coma?”

“A while.” Tim says sadly.

Jason watches Tim fiddling with his half-empty water bottle in front of him. All things considered, Jason thinks Tim is handling everything well, at least on the outside. Jason is certain if you were the one in the coma, Dick wouldn't get him to leave under any circumstance. He'd be fighting tooth and nail until you were out of the coma, even if that maybe would not be the smartest or best route.

Usually, Jason is really good at compartmentalizing, partially through training with Bruce and partially due to trauma. But, anytime it ever came to you, it got a little muddied. He could still be Robin, no problem but in a situation like Tim is in, Jason isn't so sure he'd be able to work anything else until he knew you were okay. Tim seems to be able to put his emotions, his anger and care for others, aside for what must be done. Dick still isn't always the best at it.

Jason thinks this might make Tim a better Robin.

“Hey, the Titans will figure out. Always do.” Jason assures him.

"Yeah." Tim lets out a sigh with a soft nod, hoping he's right. “Can I ask you something?”

“You’ve been asking me shit.” Jason quips back.

“How’d you do it?” Tim asks bluntly. “Y/n said she’s been hurt a lot. Doing this. How’d you deal with it?”

Being here is not as easy as Tim is making it seem. The excitement of this is definitely helping but Bernard is still in the back of his head. Every time Gar or Dick or Conner text him, he almost has a panic attack, terrified it'll be bad news about Bernard. He feels like he's not helping and if anyone should be helping his boyfriend, it should absolutely be him. But, Dick is the leader and he can't just go against him. Tim still needs to prove that he can be a good Robin. It's as if he's being torn in two and maybe Jason isn't the best person to ask given everything but Jason is at least very honest.

“Cuts and bruises are different than a coma." Jason states, unsure how else he's supposed to answer.

"You know what I mean, man." Tim almost groans with a plea.

Jason pauses for a few seconds, knowing he doesn't exactly have an answer. The person he should be asking is you because if you can get up and continue this after everything, anyone can. For Jason, it's always been that he has no choice. It's always been about survival, it's still about survival. He can't just sit around and hope for the best. Jason's never been sit around and wait person anyway. Something has to be done. Unfortunately for Tim, that's about all the advice Jason is going to be able to give him.

“Just do it.” Jason answers. “Moping about it isn’t going to help. You get up and do something.”

“I’m here.” Tim states.

“Because Dick needed you to do something. That’s still doing something, right?” Jason raises though he does understand Tim's argument.

“Yeah, but shouldn't I be there to help?” Tim asks. “This is great, ya know? On my own, being Robin! It’s like the coolest thing ever. But, why couldn't this wait?” Tim shakes his head with a soft scoff.

“I’m sure he’s got his reasons.” Jason assures him. "Look, man, Dick's doing what's best for you to be Robin and you know they're trying to figure it out. This is still helping." Jason tries to offer some reason to Tim before he gets to his feet. “Come on. I’ll show you your room.” Jason jerks his head towards the door. “Don’t sweat it, alright? Dick’s got it handled.” Jason states and it’s still a little weird having a little faith in Dick but given all of the events that happened, Dick hasn’t given Jason too hard of a time when they’ve talked.

Jason shows Tim to a room. It’s not much. A TV and a couch, that’s mostly it but it’ll do. Tim won’t be in Gotham long anyway. Jason fetches him a blanket and tells him he has free reign of the place, just don’t break anything and then he’s off to his own room.

He’s switched rooms since the last time you were here. The mattresses is sat up against the north wall but he has an ensuite bathroom. The door to the ensuite is a few feet from the mattress, the head of the mattress and the doorframe on the same wall. Two dressers stand on the wall opposite. He has a turn table and some vinyls. A bookshelf stands tall, loaded with books right next to the bedroom door. It is not much, especially compared to the Manor and the Tower but it’s his. And it’s the things he likes.

Jason heads for the shower, expecting to get it done and over with before trying to get some sleep. But, despite feeling fine all day, something starts feeling wrong. He thought he felt fine, all things considered, but as he tugs his hoodie and shirt over his head, his hands start to shake. They’re practically vibrating right off on his wrists and his heart starts to thunder in his chest. Something in his body feels wrong, like something is going to melt out of his ears. It gets harder to breathe and his head gets dizzy. There's a feeling like maybe his eyesight might start to go next while his hands grip the edge of the sink to stabilize himself. Every muscle in his legs starts to feel numb and weak while the shaking has moved up to his elbows. His arms feel like cinderblocks so he slams his eyes shut and tries to breathe.

He doesn’t know what this is. It doesn’t feel quite like a panic attack. Those always felt explosive. They are loud in comparison. But this? This feels quiet and it feels sharp, deafening. It creeps on him and then hits him in full force when he’s not looking. It always passes but it scares the shit out of him that this might not just be a bad panic attack. What if the Pit is calling him back? He hates the thought but he knows it has to, right? Because being alive doesn’t feel quite right either. Nothing feels quite right anymore.

The feeling starts to pass in a few minutes while Jason looks to the mirror. He hates that white streak. Dick didn’t even get it. Jason gets dunked in the Pit and Jason comes back a monster with a white streak of hair, feeling like he’s going to be ripped back to his own grave in a matter of time. Dick on the other hand seems fine and his hair is fucking normal. What the fuck is even up with that?

There aren’t any bruises decorating his face and he can’t help but think you might have been relieved. You always were. But, you don’t see the y scar staring back at him in the mirror or the red and black bruises over his torso from the other night. He is thankful for that. They hurt. Jason doesn’t waste much more time on it before he gets in the shower. He has to get up early, an appointment with Leslie and all.

By the time the next day rolls around, you pick up Tim from Jason's, Jason nowhere to be found. All you got was that he had left early and he said he'd be back later. Very Jason not to give out any form of detail. And maybe you're a little disappointed you missed him. But, you don't show it as you and Tim head off to Harbor, Tim hoping to find Venta while you're just playing along. Mostly, you want to see how he interrogates people, see if he's any good at it. Tim has never seemed the violent type but you're thinking him as Robin might surprise you since he's so dedicated to the cause.

So, the two of you go and you spend a few hours doing this. You take a backseat, watching as Tim tries to get answers. You give out pointers whenever he lets someone go because he's not the best at it. He's not bad but you feel like he can do better. He can figure out anything, he just needs to get better at threatening people even though you know these people are in fact innocent so you're not actually inciting violence this time. Innocent people don't need to get hurt just so Tim can learn how to be Robin.

After a few hours, you suggest you head back, clearly you aren't going to find anything out. And you're hungry. Tim reluctantly agrees, mostly because you suggested you visit his parents really quick, grab some food, and head back. So, you do, making casual conversations on the way.

By the time you get back, you find Jason in his own training room, the room you were in last night. He's at the monitors working on something but spins around in a chair once you and Tim walk in, Tim holding a take-out bag.

"Got you food." Tim states, digging in the bag for Jason's.

Jason's eyes dart to you as you take your mask off and offer him a soft smile. "I'm gonna change. Don't touch my food..." Your eyes narrow at Jason. "Jason."

"I don't eat your food." Jason snarks back as he takes the container from Tim.

"The fuck you do." You quip back before you spin on your heels, heading to the bathroom down the hall.

You change quickly, ready to just eat your lunch. You still go to Excellent Gotham a few times a week and you're still not bored of it. Once you're in your street clothes, you head back to the room to find the boys practically scarfing down their food with Jason still sat by the monitors and Tim at the small table.

"Where were you this morning?" You ask as you take a seat beside Tim.

"Busy." Jason answers, mouth full of food. "Something for Babs." Jason lies, keeping it casual.

It's not that he cares if you know he's going to see Leslie again or that he cares much if Tim knows. It's that he doesn't want to get into it. There's still a lot of work to be done and it's his work to be done so he keeps it close to his chest.

"Right." You nod your head, eying him carefully before you open your own take-out container.

"She's got you working something, right?" Jason asks, careful not to make it seem like he's brushing you off entirely.

"Yeah, seems like it's just the one guy running shit but there might be more to it." You explain as you eat.

"So you guys just work with the commissioner?" Tim asks as he looks between the two of them.

You and Jason glance between each other before you both shrug your shoulders.

"Kind of." You answer.

"Basically." Jason answers. "There's some shit the GCPD can't do because of red tape or legal reasons so she sends us."

"We have to make money somehow." Sam says sarcastically.

Tim shakes his head. "Do you ever get used to it? I mean this has been awesome over the past few weeks."

Jason looks down at his food. He would not say someone just gets used to it, not really. There is always some form of excitement that takes over when he puts a suit on and he goes out. There's always some form of excitement facing off with people who can kill him and who want to kill him. That part is slightly different now, he almost feels just the tint of anxiety. Death became a reality and he is not invincible but he goes out. It's still something he genuinely feels good about. It's different and there isn't this huge sense of pride with it anymore but he still likes it. It's not so much that someone just gets used to it.

"Not really." Jason answers softly.

You don't think you'll ever be used to it. It's a routine, sure. That part of the job you're used to but everything else? Not so much. You still absolutely love doing it but it's different than before. It almost felt somewhat of an obligation then, living with the Titans and then Batman and Robin. But now, it's entirely your choice. This is your choice to do this and that is cathartic in a way. You're taking control of your life but that doesn't mean you're used to going out and willingly putting yourself in front of gunfire and a bunch of people who want to kill you. You aren't used to the pain that comes with it. Maybe going out every night to protect people is something someone gets used to but possibly dying for other people with such violence is not. Losing people to this life is not.

"I don't think so." You answer honestly.

The three of you continue your meals, Tim finishing first. He's back on his feet as soon as he's done, rushing to throw away his takeout dish as Jason and you watch him. He's still got the suit on and he doesn't look like he's going to change. Something about it makes you think this is probably how Jason was when he first got the suit. He probably slept in it.

"I'm gonna go back out there." Tim declares to the room.

Jason looks to you and you look to Jason. Are either of you supposed to stop him? He looks pretty determined. Stopping him might seem suspicious. Stopping him might be worse off for his training.

"You think you'll find anything out?" Jason questions.

"I have to. It's my job." Tim states and that's when you know you should let him go alone.

"Call if you need anything. Keep your phone on and I'll have Molly track it in case you get into any trouble like you did last night." You offer a simple smile.

"Right...yeah okay, thanks." Tim gives you a sheepish smile before he darts right out of the room, the bo staff in hand.

"He's gonna get his ass kicked." Jason mutters.

"Definitely." You nod your head.

"Why'd you let him go then?" Jason nearly chortles as he takes another bite.

"Why didn't you stop him?" You chortle right back. Tim is also Jason's job. "He has a job to do and we'll never be able to train him in any of this if he actually thinks he can do it. I get Dick is building confidence or whatever but Tim's detective skills will only get him so far." You state.

"That's why I didn't stop him." Jason laughs with the shake of his head.

The room falls silent as you both continue your food. You text Molly letting her know about Tim and just to keep an ear out in case something hits the fan and you and Jason need to go help him. Tim is only supposed to be asking questions, he should be fine until he gets back so you aren't too worried and neither is Jason.

"Still the Shimmer case?" You ask as you toss your takeout away.

"Uh, yeah and another one." Jason states, turning back to the monitors, pulling up a few missing posters for kids.

"More missing kids?" You question as you take a seat beside him.

"Nope." Jason starts, shaking his head in annoyance. "We know where most of them are which is the problem." Jason huffs.

"Do I even want to know?" You ask cautiously with a grimace.

"They've got them spread out across the city but anytime anyone gets close, they move. I think it's someone in the department running it." Jason explains, glancing to you. "Made a whole fucking business of selling kids."

"Fucking gross." You grimace as you tug your sleeves over your hands. "Are they keeping them in Gotham though?"

"These ones." Jasn pulls up about ten posters as he gestures to the screen. "We haven't gotten a sighting or word about in about two weeks so I don't think so. But the others we've seen here and there or heard something. Babs wants me to be careful, track who I can until I find the one running it. Then let her take it from there." Jason lets out a bitter scoff, still hellbent on fighting Babs tooth and nail over this one.

"Right, but you're Jason Todd who doesn't do that. So what are you actually going to do about it?" You ask with hope Jason will take it into his own hands. Anyone who's willing to just sell kids for who knows what, shouldn't be able to get locked away and then let free to do it all over again in a different city.

"Scare him out into the open and then kill him. Selling fucking kids. No one gets to just go through the fucking justice system that'll let them out to do it all over again. Babs is gonna be pissed but I don't fucking care." Jason huffs, determination written over every line of his face.

"Good, fuck that guy." You scoff and you'd be lying if you didn't want in. "Need any help?" You ask, keeping your eyes on the screen to not seem too eager about offering help.

Jason laughs softly. "I thought you didn't team?" Jason quips, looking back at you with the raise of his brows. It's the same look he always gave you when he just wanted to watch you squirm, the question at hand not even being a real question.

Your heart starts to thunder in your chest again and maybe sitting so close to him was just your subconscious because you swear you didn't do it on purpose. It's the way he grins back at you just as he always did whenever he was trying to fuck with you. Before, before things got all messy and real, he'd scoot closer to you and wiggle his brows. But, he doesn't. He keeps his signature smirk as your eyes are locked on his. You forgot how much you love the color green.

"That wasn't a no and I thought you didn't team anymore." You quip back, leaning your elbow on the table, resting your head on your hand as your brows raise at him.

He'd always team with you if you asked.

"Could make an exception." Jason raises back.

"Aw, just for me?" You scrunch your nose at him.

"Could be fun." Jason teases as his heart erupts into pooling lava.

"Could be." You nod your head, chewing the inside of your cheek. "Loser."

Jason lets out a laugh. "Actually, yeah, I think you can help." Jason cuts it short pulling a mug shot of a woman you helped last week. "Know her right?"

"Yeah, she was one of the women I got out of the ring I'm working. She flipped." You state.

"Rumor has it, she was working with my guy first." Jason explains.

"Right, and he got bored as they do, recruit someone else." You state.

"Think you could talk to her?"Jason asks. "She'll know, at least, who he is, could fucking help."

"She wouldn't give us any names." You shrug before your brows furrow. "You said you guys think he's working for the department?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, she bypassed the whole system and clearance Babs set up. She's not in the program either. I checked. Babs said it was some sort of glitch or something but I don't think she believes it." You explain.

"Well, what about her friends? We can try to find her but until then, what about her friends?" Jason asks, knowing someone had to slip at some point. The more people involved, the harder it is to keep secrets. People love telling secrets.

"Yeah, yeah, uh...we have a few we're watching and one in our program. I can try." You offer with a simple nod.

"Thank you." Jason offers a subtle, closed-mouth smile.

"Of course, happy to help." You offer the same smile back.

The room falls silent between you while you watch Jason look over his monitors. He really has the whole setup now. Scans over the city, security system, alerts. It reminds you a little of the Batcave and Titans tower. You and Molly don't have quite the extensive system Jason does but it works for you. You're happy he's got it all laid out though. It makes her feel like he might be being a little safe out there, maybe taking a little extra caution for his life.

Jason glances at you and he wonders how this would be different if so much time hadn't passed, if things were different between you. He wonders if you'd be more of a team, working these missions together. He wonders if you'd be here with him or if you'd still live with Molly. Would you still take up a different part of the city? That actually would make more sense. Three vigilantes spread out can cover more ground but he thinks about it anyway. Would you be training together still? Would you meet up halfway through patrol for a quick snack by his favorite gargoyle or the roof near the wolf enclosure at the zoo? Too much time passed and he really wishes it wouldn't have.

It's for the best, he tells himself over and over to try and convince himself it is. He wants you so bad still that it is killing him but he can't let you down like he did before. That is not fair and he's worried he's not ready. And this is the second time you've spoken in a month and a half. That doesn't seem fair to even spring it on you. But you should know, right? Jason wonders if you should or maybe too much time has passed there, too. Maybe you think his feelings have changed with the lack of contact.

They haven't. They never could.

He just wants you to be happy even if it's not with him.

Jason clears his throat. "How have you been anyways?" Jason answers, trying to ease his own thoughts. "Molly and Gar said you're okay." Jason says softly and he says it on purpose, testing the waters.

Your brows pull together, watching as the corner of his mouth pulls up just slightly. The honesty of him asking your friends is new. "You asking about me, Jay?" The sarcasm isn't as strong as it normally is as if you're genuinely surprised he's being blunt about it but you aren't mad. Molly mentioned it last night but you didn't press, thinking it didn't mean much but with Jason stating it, it has to.

Jason shrugs. "I know you ask about me." Jason quips back grinning back at you, taking a shot in the dark with his assumption. If he's been asking, he's hoping you were, too.

Of course, you do but you want to know how he knows that. And then you remember. Jason Todd knows every single thing about you, inside and out. Even in his worst mental health days, somewhere deep inside his guarded heart, he knows you always loved him. Of course, you've asked about him. You have to. You don't want to live in a world where you don't check on him. It would be a dull and grey world and that's just not one you want to live in.

You suck your teeth, an uncontrollable smile coming to your face. "I always have to check on you." You say quietly, looking to the screens. Jason wants to combust. "I, uh, yeah, I've been okay." You pull in a breath, not letting your words linger in the air for too long. "Living with Molly is different but it's nice." You nod your head quickly. "How are you?"

"Good." Jason answers. "Yeah, it's uh, it's cool being away from Bruce and being able to do my own thing." Jason nods his head.

You tilt your head, narrowing your eyes. "Why are they worried about you then?" You question carefully.

"They're always worried, like you." Jason quips.

"Because you always give us reason to be worried." You widen your eyes at him.

"I don't fucking know, honestly. Think they just are." Jason clears his throat again, desperately wishing people didn't worry so much about him. It makes the guilt heavier. "After everything."

"Yeah, that's, uh, yeah, t-that makes sense." Your face falls as Jason watches the sadness rip itself across your features.

"What about you? They're worried about you, too." Jason nods his head up at you.

You pull in a breath. "Uh...yeah it's just...I don't know." You shake your head. "Same reason maybe and uh, just...being out there." You nod your head, omitting the parts about some nightmares and some reckless tendencies that were not there a few months ago.

"You sure you're alright?" Jason asks as his eyes narrow slightly as if he has some sort of sixth sense always telling when something's going on with you.

There's a single second where you almost bear it all to him. You almost tell him why you picked a fight last night and why you never called. You almost tell him why you patrol more than he does -- according to Molly. There's a part of you that almost wants to tell him because you would have before. But that was before, this is now. It's different now. He doesn't have to carry it for you anymore. It's not fair to him.

You nod. "Yeah, are you sure?" You point a finger to your head.

"Yeah, yeah, uh I've been seeing Leslie." Jason admits despite him wanting to keep it close to his chest. He can always tell when something is picking at you, he considers this an olive branch, an offering of acknowledgment that he's still here. He watches you take a breath, relief almost washing over your face. "It's helping a little." Jason nods his head. "Maybe you and Bruce were right about it." Jason lets out a soft chuckle.

"I'm usually right about most things." You smirk right back at him. "I'm glad you're going and that it's helping." You smile softly at him, genuinely relieved he decided to go back. "You look really good, Jay."

"So do you." Jason whispers softly.

The words "I miss you" choke through Jason's throat, shredding the flesh into pieces. They get stuck and seep into the open wounds, reabsorbing themselves right into his flesh as the blood drowns them from ever coming to the surface. Before, you always told each other you missed each other but something about the words now feel too weighted. There's too much emotion tied to them. There are too many feelings tugged onto every single letter. The words will never be simply platonic again because how can they be?

He misses the way your hand would run through his hair after he's had a nightmare. And the way you'd kiss his head lazily before you'd eventually fall asleep. He misses the way you'd tell him you love him as if it's the only words you'd ever known and how even when they were said lazily and with sleep still in your eyes, they all weighed the same. It always meant the same. He misses being able to tell you everything and being able to expose his worst parts to you without ever being judged. And how your hand fit perfectly in his and the way you'd warm up her hands with her powers before rubbing out the knots in his back. He misses how you'd kiss him and immediately start smiling as if it is the one thing that would make you happy even on your worst day.

He misses the way you were allowed to love each other.

You almost pick up your hand and run it through the white streak of hair just to mess with it. You almost do but catch yourself. Maybe if you were still friends who had talked over the last month, you would have but not now. You don't want to invade his personal space. Jason has always been a bit skittish. You remember some of the first times you stepped into his space, touched him in ways he didn't seem to expect. He'd freeze, his entire body would tense as if you were going to hurt him even if all you did was rest your hand on his cheek. Over time, he'd relax but you remember that and it breaks your heart. You wonder if he'd freeze like that again or if he'd relax eventually.

"So," You pull in a breath. "This is officially your new place?" You ask as you look around the room.

"Yeah," Jason chuckles, his eyes still locked on you. "Did ya want a tour?" Jason offers.

"Yeah, actually that'd be cool." You laugh softly as Jason stands up.

He shakes his head and then offers you his hand on purpose. "Come on." Jason jerks his head.

You look at his hand and then back his eyes. Your hand goes into his as you get up. He drives you crazy and maybe this isn't the cat-and-mouse game you always played but you offer it anyway, for old times' sake.

"Shithead." You mutter once you're to your feet and your hand is back at your side.

Jason laughs this soft laugh that feels the way the first 'I love you' does. "Babe." Jason says back, for old times' sake.

The two of you start the tour. It's not a house. It's an orphanage that closed down years ago. You find it a bit ironic this is one of the places he picked but you keep it quiet. So, Jason leads you around, showing you some of the rooms and explains some of the things he wants to do. He wants one of them to be a library because of course he does. Another room he wants to dedicate solely to a kitchen and another to a training room, weight room, monitor room like the Batcave. There's another one he wants just for a shooting range to keep it all contained. You swear he has it all figured out. And then you get to his bedroom, last on the tour because it was furthest away from where you started.

You nod your head, looking at the bookcase. "Makes sense." You point to it. "I'm glad you don't have to hide it." You nod your head at him with a soft smile, the scrapbook page you made him for his birthday does not go unnoticed on top of the bookshelf.

Jason looks to the floor, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, it's nice." Jason looks around with a subtle smile.

"I really like it, Jay." You say honestly. "Do you like it?"

Jason looks around some more feeling a sense of warmth and and pride in his chest. "Yeah, I do." Jason nods. "It's not the manor or anything."

"You always said the manor wasn't the real you anyway. This the real you?" You ask.

Jason pulls in a breath, his eyes still scanning around the room. He isn't sure if it's all him, really. It's hard to tell these days what's really him and what's leftover from his previous life. It's hard to tell if those two things can bleed into one or if the past him died with the crowbar. He likes to think this will be the real him. Better. But, you always knew him better than anyone, sometimes better than he knew himself.

"You tell me." Jason shrugs softly as his eyes land back on you.

"I think so." You give him a tender smile. "Simple, repurposing something left to rot. Making it into something good. I think it's very you. And I do not think it is a coincidence that there are empty rooms." You offer him a cheeky smirk with a soft laugh. "Expecting guests at some point."

Jason chuckles as his cheeks start to burn. "Shut the fuck up." Jason glances to the floor and then back to you before he gestures a hand out. "You planning on needing a place to stay?" Jason quips.

"If you're offering." You quip back and you watch him shift his weight to his right leg before rolling his shoulders.

Jason's heart skips a beat right into his throat. "What? Bored of Molly already?"

"Nah, just fun to fuck wit you, still." You tease him with a toothy grin.

"Right." Jason scoffs but a smile is on his face, maybe his heart sinks a little even if he knew it was a joke to begin with.

The room falls silent and something about this doesn't feel right. It's weird not living together with no thought of ever living together again. You've always been just fine on your own and you love living with Molly but it's always Jason you wish were there when you get home. Missing him has become routine but not in a way you ever get used to. Missing him is just there, all the time. It's exhausting missing him.

"Might have to take up the offer though when I get hurt." You clear your throat, tugging your sleeves down. Jason's brows furrow at you. "Molly fusses over it."

"You planning on getting hurt anytime soon?" Jason asks as concern washes over his face.

"No." You scoff. "I just mean...ya know?" You shrug your shoulders.

Molly isn't squeamish. She never has been, not from what you remember prior to your mom dying. But, you got hurt your first week living with Molly and it really wasn't anything. It was just a long cut, not too deep, won't even scar. But, Molly fussed over it and there was a lot of blood. You aren't too oblivious to know why Molly suddenly fusses over blood. You just can't tell Jason that, it's not fair to him.

"It's Molly, she worries." You brush it off.

Jason nods his head with understanding, sensing there's something more but he chooses not to dig. "You're always welcome to stay." Jason pulls in a soft breath with a subtle smile.

"Thanks, Jay." You give him a small and shy smile.

"Of course." Jason says softly and he decides to leave it there. "Wanna keep waiting for Tim? Check on him?"

"We should. If something happens, Dick will kill us." You laugh softly.

"Yeah, we aren't fighting for once, don't wanna get back there." Jason chuckles as the two of you head back to his current training room.

The two of you take your seats beside each other. You get a text from Molly letting you know everything with Tim seems okay from where she's sitting. So, the two of you wait on the monitors, figuring he'll be fine. Nothing too bad has been going down around Harbor anyway.

A few hours later, Tim comes back looking quite a bit defeated. He greets the two of you before he heads off to change. Jason and you actually feel bad for him. He has so much hope of getting this done when there isn't anything to get done. You both entirely understand why Dick sent him on a fake mission. It makes perfect sense and in a way, it's teaching him he is not perfect. He won't win all of them and he can ask for help. That's when you both realize that is likely Dck's real point. You both can step it up.

Tim walks back in a few minutes later still looking a little defeated. The case is in one hand and his bo staff is in the other. He puts the case down against the wall and takes a place on the mat in the middle of the room. You let out a soft laugh. Apparently, part of being a vigilante is needing to train in order to work out frustration.

"Follow my lead." Jason whispers to you right before he gets up and heads over to the fridge while Tim is moving his staff through the air and between his hands.

"I asked everybody down on Harbor about this guy, Venta. And nobody's heard of him." Tim states in frustration, watching as Jason grabs a beer from the fridge.

"Must be in deep cover." Jason states, popping the cap from the beer, the cap clanking on the floor. You get up from your seat, moving to lean against the table that sits off to the side but in between the boys. "Or dead." Jason suggests before taking a sip from the bottle. Tim offers a simple glare to him, not liking the answer as he continues with his Bo staff. "You like that thing?" Jason asks, closing some of the distance between the boys. "Can you actually use it?" Jason stops about two feet in front of Tim.

Tim holds the staff over his right shoulder, facing Jason. This is his chance. "Why don't we go a few rounds and I'll show you?" Tim asks, almost seeming confident in his ask.

Jason looks to the floor, eying his beer and then he looks to you, a smirk on his face. Jason knows without a second thought that this is going to be fun for him, not so much for Tim. He raises his brows quickly before taking another sip on his way over to the table to put the beer down.

"You're going to regret asking that." You quip and you'd be lying if you said you didn't admit his confidence, even if unwarranted.

"What?" Tim asks, trying to conceal his sudden concern.

"You'll see." You laugh softly, crossing your arms over your chest.

Jason walks back over, the boys locking eyes on each other the whole time. You can't tell if Tim asked because Jason was Robin and he thinks it'll be fun and cool. Or if he asked for some training and now is regretting it because Jason was Robin and now Red Hood and he knows this will only end in pain.

Jason nods up at Tim. "One round." Jason states.

Tim takes up the challenge, taking a step back as he points the end of the Bo staff as Jason's chest. There's a very small and subtle smile trying to make its way onto Tim's face. Jason gives it a few seconds before smacking the bo staff right out of Tim's hands, sending it to the ground. Tim lets out a breath with a sudden jolt, almost defeat and even a little embarrassment covers his face.

Jason grins more to himself than anything. "Maybe two rounds." Jason states before looking over to you. "You wanna try?"

You push off the table, switching places with Jason while Tim picks up his staff. "Cool?" You ask Tim.

Tim nods a few times, trying to hide his excitement of getting to train with the both of you. "Yeah, we're good."

Tim takes a step back and this time, he holds the staff closer to himself, his grip tighter. His feet are planted better on the ground but you know he doesn't stand a chance. Tim doesn't expect sparring to be mean. But you trained with Jason who would kick someone while they were down just to make sure they're prepared for everything.

The staff is pointed at you and then Tim pulls it to the side quickly, about to use it to smack you with it in order to make the first move to not make the same mistake as last time. But you grab the end of the staff before it can even come close and in a quick and fluid motion, you yank it right from his hands, flipping the staff in your hands and pointing it right at his head.

"Alright." Tim lets out a sigh as you hand the staff back over.

"You need some help." Jason states, walking back over to you and Tim. "You're never gonna get this Venta guy if you can't even last a few seconds between us."

"There hasn't been a lot of time to train." Tim almost groans with the shake of his head.

"Yeah, I heard." You nod your head. "Gar told me. Well, you're here." You shrug your shoulders.

"Been a while since I sparred with anyone." Jason looks between you and Tim, something menacing behind his eyes.

"What'd you say, Tim?" You ask with a taunting grin.

"Wait, really?" Tim asks as his eyes go wide. "You guys will help?"

"Well, I don't want you to get killed." You state.

"Yeah, we're not trying to watch you sign your death certificate while you're here."

"Yeah, yeah, thanks." Tim beams with a large smile.

"I'm gonna change real quick, warm him up." Jason nods at you before he walks to the door.

"You guys are gonna help me?" Tim asks. "This is really cool. Thank you."

"You're a dork." You state, watching Tim chew his cheek. "It was so cool being trained by Robin though." You gush.

"He's not gonna go easy on me, is he?" Tim asks as he nods his head, realizing who he just signed up to train with.

You let out a cackle. "Fuck no. Jason doesn't go easy on anyone." You let out a laugh as you sit on the floor and start stretching.

Tim joins you and starts stretching. "How is this going to work with your combat thing?" Tim asks.

"I try to ignore it. It's actually a little easier to ignore now, like sparring with people I trust."

"You can ignore it?" Tim's brows furrow at you. "How's that work?"

"Eh, kind of it. It's not really ignoring it as just pretending like it isn't there. It's kind of hard to explain. I just noticed, even back at the Tower, it just wasn't as strong training with everyone. I don't know." You shrug softly.

Jason comes back a few minutes later, going to the back room where there's a jukebox. While Jason gets some music going, you and Tim get to your feet. Tim grabs his bo staff, moving it around again as if he's preparing. You watch over your shoulder at Jason.

He's gained a bit more muscle over the last month and a half. The shirt he's wearing fits him well, cutting just below his waist. The sleeves hug his biceps that you swear are bigger and it's tighter around his chest. Your eyes trail down to his sweatpants. There's no difference there but there was something about Jason in sweatpants that you found to be the most attractive.

Jason turns back around, catching you staring. Heat runs over his cheeks as he smirks back at you. It's cheeky and arrogant, just as it always is. You roll your eyes, turning back around. Jason walks over to you and Tim gets ready.

"Okay, give me what you got." Tim says with confidence, swinging the bo staff around fluidly.

Jason doesn't even let him finish the sentence before he yanks the bo staff from Tim with almost no effort and then smacks Tim on the side of the head, making him fall to the ground. You burst out laughing as Tim looks up at Jason with surprise.

"You rely too much on your toys." Jason states sternly. Tim gets back to his feet, holding his head. "Okay." Jason says calmly and he's starting to feel in his element again. "On three, I'm gonna attack. You ready?" Jason asks.

Tim gets his stance ready, a little wobbly on his feet. "Ready."

"One." Jason says and then immediately goes to smack Tim again but this time Tim blocks his arm only for Jason to kick Tim in the back of the knee, sending him right back to the ground.

"What the fuck." Tim says, quickly getting back on his feet. "You said three!"

"Yeah! The Riddler's not gonna count." Jason strikes right back.

Tim looks to you for help. This is completely different than how he's been training with Conner and Gar. With Gar, they count off and spar, Gar definitely seems to go easy on him with TIm's lack of experience. And to be fair, a lot of the training with Conner is Tim just hitting him with no effect at all. But, Jason really isn't going to play fair. Tim's only hope is that you will.

"No one out there is going to tell you when they're going to attack. You just have to know." You state, not willing to help. "You're a Titan today and we're here but you're gonna be on your own. You're going to be helpless one day. Learn today never to be helpless." You nod your head, taking your turn with him.

The two of you get into your stances. You know you won't be nearly as ruthless as Jason. You only have a few days to get Tim in shape to fight a demon but that doesn't mean you and Jason both have to be completely ruthless the whole time. You'll cut Tim some slack. He can take it anyway. He'll be fine.

You go to take a single step forward, making Tim try to attack and block first. But, you never finish the step. Instead, it only makes Tim come closer to you which makes you grab his arm and spin the two of you around, pinning his arm behind his back. Tim lets out a yell and you let go, going back to your stance.

"Ow." Tim groans at you.

"You're fine. It'll feel better in a minute." You smile back at him. "Come at me."

Tim does as told, trying to land a hit to your head but you block him before he ever gets close and then you kick him in the knee, just hard enough to send him to the ground. You look to Jason. Oh, Tim needs help.

"You told me to come at you." Tim groans. "I thought you were just gonna block."

"Yeah, no." You laughs softly. "Not happening."

"Because the Riddler's not gonna block." Tim almost mocks Jason.

"None of them are going to just block." You correct him. "Your turn, Jay."

Jason takes over again while you grab a Gatorade from the fridge, pulling out one for the boys, too. Jason actually starts teaching now, showing Tim how to properly block and when. He shows him different ways and the best ways. Tim does know some of the blocks, he's just not used to them quite yet which is a relief.

Once Tim seems steady there, you switch with Jason and instead, you block Tim. You show Tim how you do it and how quick it is for you. The thought behind it is that you're not the only one with this. If Tim runs into someone with this power, he needs to know how he's supposed to land a hit. So, that's his job. Watch you, and learn how you block and find a weakness in order to hit. That's what Jason did. Tim only gets somewhat close a few times before Jason and you switch again.

This time, Jason starts teaching Tim how to make contact. Again, Dick has shown Tim some defense which is a help but he hasn't had much time to practice. So, the boys work on that for a few minutes before Jason shows him a few more things. After a few minutes, you switch with Jason. You and Tim go back and forth for a few minutes before Jason decides to up more. You only have a few days to get Tim ready. Now, it's two against one.

"Come on, me against you two?" Tim groans.

You and Jason look between each other and you both shrug as if sharing the same brain.

"No." You both say.

"We're all against each other." Jason answers casually.

"You have to watch what we're both doing not only against each other but when we come for you. No teams. Every man for himself." You state.

The three of you take your positions before Jason gives the go-ahead. The three of you lunge for each other. You hit Jason first, knowing Jason would likely go for Tim first. Is it going a little easy on Tim? Sure. But, you know going all out isn't going to help him, not right now. So, you kick the back of Jason's leg first, giving Tim the opportunity to get one hit to his head. Jason is quick to fight right back, knocking Tim in the face before he turns around, nearly kicking you before you jump out of the way and land a second hit to Tim's chest.

The three of you keep this up for the next half hour. You and Jason try to divide your time between each other and Tim, making sure he's getting plenty of chances to not only try to take you both down but also block the both of you. You're both being careful not to go too hard but make sure you aren't going too easy either. The more you all go, Tim gets tired but he never gives up. About halfway through, Tim gets into his own rhythm, able to block more of you and Jason. He lands a hit to you once while you hit Jason and he hands just a handful of hits to Jason. It builds his confidence anytime he lands anything and blocks one of you.

After a half hour of sparring, the three of you take seats on the floor, bottles of Gatorade right beside all of you as your chests heave. Jason's eyes land on you with your messy hair and the bruise of your eye fading. You have the Gatorade to your lips and he sees the silver chain peaking out from the collar of your t-shirt. There's a bruise on your right bicep, that's more recent but it's not bad. And he watches as you smile and then laugh at Tim as Tim lays back, complaining that he might be dying. There's been something about your smile and your laugh that could make Jason smile even on his worst days. Maybe you are doing better. He really hopes you are. You look so happy.

You get up, Jason unable to peel his eyes away from you. He always loved the way you looked in sweatpants. You have on black joggers that hug your thighs just a little bit and pinch right at your ankles. Your t-shirt is shorter, cutting right at your waist and Jason can't stop staring. He swears you're fucking stunning.

You grab all of you a few of Jason's granola bars and when you turn around, Jason is staring at you. So, you look at the granola bars and then at Jason before you throw one right at his head. It bonks him, causing Tim to burst out into a fit of laughter.

"Something about needing to block or something?" Tim quips, barely finishing his sentence before you and Jason throw a granola bar at him. Tim flails trying to block them unsuccessfully.

You grab a few more before you take your seat back beside Jason, giving him a few granola bars, keeping some for yourself while Tim snacks on the ones the two of you threw at him. It's nice being able to get a little bit of a break. Jason is actually really enjoying this. It feels like old times and he's actually helping. Dick is trusting him to work with you and help make sure Tim is prepared to fight this big bad. That's a big compliment as far as Jason is concerned. And Tim seems to be enjoying himself even if you both are going hard on him. Jason always liked helping train the others and this is throwing him right back but in a good way where he's not bitter about it. He's just glad to help. He feels needed.

And it doesn't hurt that you're here and you're getting along. It feels different than it did before. But, it's really nice. You're both still laughing and you still think the same way. You're still on the same page with everything. It's just nice to be able to spend some time with you and check in on you. Jason has missed you more than words could ever describe and he wonders if you'll be able to keep this going once Tim leaves. He really hopes you can. And he watches you toss another bar at Tim with a smile and he decides, he will try. He'll try to keep this up after Tim leaves.

Just because Tim will leave, doesn't mean you and Jason have to go back to not talking. The not talking was the hard part but now that you are, it feels easy again. It feels like you don't have to give each other space the size of half the damn city. You can do this without having to sacrifice having each other in your lives. Jason decides as he watches you laugh, he's going to keep trying to have you in his life and he hopes you'll have him, too.

The three of them spar for another half hour before Jason teaches Tim more about his staff. Dick was the one who liked the bo staff and Jason wasn't much to rely on it but Bruce made him learn. Jason always thought it was because of Dick but he's realizing it was just preparation to be able to use anything and everything as a weapon just in case. So, you sit back and watch the two of them go back and forth.

Once they're done, Jason sends Tim off to shower first. Jason plops down in the chair beside you as you give him a soft laugh. He's been thinking through this whole training session that maybe you both can step up your game. Tim is going to need to experience based on what Jason has heard about Brother Blood.

"So," Jason clears his throat. "Penguin has a shipment of guns coming in tomorrow night." Jason states.

Your eyes narrow slightly, knowing Jason has an idea of some sort. "Does he?"

Jason nods his head as casually as he can. "Shouldn't be too hard. In and out kind of thing. Grab and leave."

"Uh, huh." You nod, turning to face him with a teasing grin. "Where ya going with this, Jay?"

"Could take Tim." Jason offers, casually before a smirk crosses over his lips as he crosses his arms. His eyes lock on yours. "Wanna?"

"You want us to take Tim on a mission to steal Penguin's guns?" You ask but you think it's a great idea. What better training than an actual mission of some sort?

"Good training. We can watch him and he can watch us. See how it's really done. Especially if he's going to be Robin." Jason offers with ease but he's thinking he really doesn't need to convince you.

A crooked smile creeps on your face. "You know I'd never turn down an opportunity like this." You laugh softly.

"Yeah?" Jason asks, hope in his voice.

"Hell yeah. It'll be fun anyway. I helped you and Bruce with Penguin a couple of times and like once it got a bit dicey. We'll be fine." You beam at him. "I miss fucking with Penguin."

"You would." Jason tilts his head back with a booming laugh and the void in his chest starts to not feel as hollow.

Your smile turns soft and warm with his laugh. You remember back at the tower and how he was treated. There was a lot going on that was bigger than him, bigger than you. But, you think about that and the general disdain everyone had for him at the time and you're watching him laugh now. You always wondered how anyone could feel anything but love for him. How could someone not be completely in love with him? Because you're sitting here feeling just as you always did around him.

You read once that studies suggest it takes three to six months to get over someone, which sounds a little miserable. It has not been even three months but it's been a month and a half and it feels like nothing even wavered in your feelings for him. You're just as in love with him today as you were sitting on the floor of the training room in San Fransisco and maybe that doesn't have to be a bad thing.

"You're having fun, aren't you?" You ask.

Jason grins back over at you. "It's not horrible."

"Uh-huh." You laugh as you shake your head. "Well, you look like you're having a good time." You shrug your shoulders at him as you chew the inside of your cheek. "And thanks to you, Tim will be great."

"Stroking my ego?" Jason quips back. "You get hit in the head too hard?"

"Shut up." You groan as you give him a gentle shove.

"Thank you." Jason laughs softly. "He'll be great because of you, too though, ya know?" Jason questions.

"Awww, now look who's being nice." You tease with the scrunch of your nose.

"I can be nice." Jason smirks right back at you.

"Yeah..." You let out a soft sigh. "You have your moments." You laugh softly as you check your phone. "Hey, uh.." Your brows furrow. "If we were done for the day, I was gonna head out." You pull in a breath, not really wanting to leave quite yet. "There are some people I wanna check up on before patrol tonight." You explain.

"Yeah, of course." Jason feels the disappointment cloud his chest. "I'll, uh, I'll call you if something goes down and text you the time." Jason nods, careful to let his disappointment show.

"Okay." You smile softly, ready to get the rest of the day over with so you can see him tomorrow. "I'll see you tomorrow, Jay."

"See you tomorrow." Jason smiles softly before you leave the room, allowing Jason to himself for the night.

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#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #titans fanfic #titans fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction #penance

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owlbloop · 2 years ago

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If someone lets you borrow or carry or touch their disability aid treat it like it's worth it's volume in gold

Or like a soul was sold to obtain that thing

I do not care if it's a cane or a brace or a wheelchair or noise canceling headphones or communication device or even just* a person's main fidget/sensory object

You do not throw it around

Twirl it wildly on your finger

Punch or slam it

Take it without explicit permission

Play with it without explicit permission

Test it without explicit permission

Dirty it

Eat food around or over it(particularly things like sugar doughnuts or greasy food that are messy/staining/hard to clean)

Hold it carelessly

You do

Hold it gently and with care while permitted

Ask before doing anything beyond that

Make sure you don't lose it

Protect it from harm

Keep it in sight of the owner unless told otherwise

Return it as soon as asked

Appreciate the show of trust the person may be displaying in leaving it in your care

If using it thank the person for letting you test or borrow it

Disability aids are not just a person's belongings

Everyone has different boundaries, learn and respect those, because everyone has a different relationship with them

But they are an extension of a person and deeply linked to the functionality of their life

For some people their disability aids are almost comparable to body parts

My headphones might only be headphones to you

But they are a lifeline to me

They literally opened up my world

With them I can go to aquariums and enjoy some restaurants and go to some festivals and so much else

I don't have to worry about auditory stimming

I don't have to argue constantly with people putting me in pain, just sometimes lol

I can actually relax in a way I literally couldn't for the majority of my life

Sure they aren't perfect, they don't block everything out and I can't bring/wear them everywhere

But they're still so much more than a pair of headphones

They're my freedom, my escape, my access to so much of my world

And if someone doesn't return them, or loses them, or breaks them, or damages them, or disrespects them?

Then they hurt or disrespect me as well

*Fidget and sensory objects can actually be a serious deal

They can literally allow a person to be part of traditional society, stop minimize panic attacks/shutdowns/anxiety attacks/meltdowns, hold a job

And can significantly improve quality of life

So unless you know someone's specific deal

don't assume a fidget or sensory objects importance

Also a lot of autistic people and traumatized ND's have emotionally very important comfort items that are often related to sensory objects. Damaging or messing with these can be EXTREMELY distressing for some people. These aren't necessarily disability aids but still, you really shouldn't mess with them

#physical disability #physically disabled #actually autistic #autism #actually adhd #Adhd #actually disabled #disability aids #disability pride month #disabilities #disability #seriously. Respect disabled people and their aids. Or i will send my plush army after you.#And it is not small

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ask-returntale · 15 days ago

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INTRODUCTORY POST

Welcome to @ask-returntale! This blog is run by @wiltedsystem, though my UNDERTALE blog is @stained-glass-spirit.

You can begin the story HERE. It will be told in a partially interactive format, with asks serving as filler entertainment in the downtime as well as other driving forces of the story.

Please read the Q&A under the cut for more information about my UNDERTALE AU and what will be put on this blog.

"What is RETURNTALE?"

RETURNTALE is an AU focused on a post-True Pacifist timeline where Frisk 'saved' Flowey from being stuck in the Underground - though, unlike most other takes on this premise, nothing special happened until approximately ten years later.

It was an extraordinarily boring affair til then. Understandably, Flowey hadn't been happy about being trapped in a flowerpot for the last decade or so. Something had to change...

As for more details, well. Everything will be revealed in time. This is a story I've held onto since I was a tormented child myself, after all. It'd be a shame to take it to my grave.

"What characters are central to this AU?"

Flowey/Asriel, Frisk, and a new human named Ash will be the primary focus, with secondary focus given to the Dreemurr family as a whole. Additional lore and depth will be added and explored surrounding the baphii (boss monsters) as well.

In contrast, meta-narrative elements such as Gaster's presence will be mostly ignored. I think people have explored most of what there is to explore about that for now until Toby tells us more, and I think Gaster has moved on from the world of UNDERTALE by now anyway.

Besides... for a story like this, a different puppetmaster is more appropriate, don't you think?

Fret not, your other favorites will probably RETURN in some capacity too - they just aren't the stars of the show, so you can't ask them questions. Only the main three can hear your inquiries.

"How should I refer to (Character)?"

Ash, bodily, uses any pronouns and is genderfluid, so that one is up to you and your preference. You may depict those stats on type or paper or whatever else as you please.

As Ash is a plural system, for individual alters, things may be more specific. This is the best example I have right now;

All are planned to show up and will not expand much beyond this for simplicity's sake.

As for the ones you Actually came here to see...

Not unlike canon, Frisk uses they/them and is otherwise unlabeled. This will not change.

Flowey uses exclusively it/its when I refer to them but doesn't actually give a shit, Asriel will respond to anything masculine or neutral, and...?

Oh, you'll have to wait for the rest of those names, I haven't come up with all of them yet.

Check back here later.

"Why does Ash look like a chibi version of you?"

I'm sure you can figure it out lol

"What content warnings should I be aware of?"

I would consider this blog to be rated somewhere around late T or early M, probably. Consider it for older audiences but non explicit.

Most topics presented within the game - as well as many aspects pulled from Deltarune - will be touched upon, including the absolute eldritch mindfuck that comes from living in a video game world.

There also will be sexual topics and violence discussed or portrayed (gasp! the horror!) because it's been ten years and sometimes adults like sex and violence. Hopefully not in the same breath without prior consent, though. This will include gore in the future, though again, not graphically so.

But yes, generally assume this blog will end up sort of strange, at times upsetting, and relatively unhinged. I will try my best to make this story intriguing in tandem.

"Can I dub this / make fanart / etc?"

Yes, please just link to me either here or @stained-glass-spirit for credit if you use any of my assets or designs. If you post a video to YouTube, please tag @/WILTEDSYS (no slash).

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charlottesbookclub · 3 months ago

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time after time – chapter fifteen (armitage hux x reader)

time after time masterlist

Summary: Hux discovers more about the incident with the explosive and confers with Captain Opan

Warnings/Tags: gn!reader; set pre-TFA; serious injuries; hurt/no comfort (yet); angst; mentions of torture; as always, let me know if I've missed anything!

Words: 1563

Author’s Note: okay my lovelies, I have decided that I will actually be posting two chapters today! fifteen and sixteen are both pretty short, so it made sense to me to do another little double chapter day with these two! it also moves us through our Tough Chapters a little more quickly lol 😅 also, for context, the visual dictionary for The Last Jedi lists Captain Opan as one of Hux's personal staff who helps him arrange assassinations and such, so I'm bringing him in for this scene! this is 2/4 of the Tough Chapters, so after this one we are halfway through! ☺️❤️‍🩹

When Hux woke in his own bed, body aching and face still stained with tears, he was numbly unsurprised. Why should he expect to have any goodwill with the galaxy? It was a miracle and a curse that he lived through the next stretch of time. He refreshed your medical file every hour, looking for any change to your status. Anything else he did was a colorless blur. They had placed him on medical leave as he recovered, and Mitaka showed up like clockwork each cycle to make sure he attended his check-ins at the med bay. These appointments confirmed that there was nothing seriously wrong with him – nothing that the medics could have detected anyway.

Hondrill accosted him one day, apologizing profusely for everything. He had assured her that none of it was her fault – that she had acted admirably and responsibly. He even took that moment to promote her to the position under Mitaka. Under normal circumstances, he might have enjoyed seeing the mix of surprise, confusion, and excitement on her face, but Hux was not in a state to enjoy anything.

The findings from the investigation into the explosion were slowly trickling in, confirming the initial suspicions that Senator Dentelle had been the sole target of the attack. Analyses from the remnants of the device suggested that it had been intentionally modified to thwart the efforts of diffuser droids. Hux instantly assigned a team of his engineers to study these modifications and make the appropriate adjustment to droid protocols to ensure that such an incident would not repeat itself.

Despite his official medical leave, Hux planted himself in his office most cycles, throwing himself back into plans for Starkiller. He saw you everywhere in his quarters, even thought he almost heard you sometimes. It was probably the lack of sleep. He hadn’t touched the sleeping pills again and mostly dozed in his office when he knew no one would be looking for him. That was the biggest mark against him during his medical check-ins, that he needed more sleep to heal properly. He would quietly agree with the medic, nodding along to their words while knowing that he had more grievous wounds that no amount of sleep would heal. Especially not when he was seeing you in his dreams.

He couldn’t tell which ones were worse, the bad ones or the good ones. In the moment, the bad ones were worse. He saw your broken body on the floor of the shuttle, twisted metal cutting into your skin as you screamed in pain. Blood pooled around you, so much blood. He would run to you, but he could never get close enough, you were just one more step away, always receding from him. The pain of your screams was excruciating no matter what, but it was so much more awful when you said his name. He would wake up drenched in sweat, the agonizing sound of you screaming his name still ringing in his ears. It sounded so real sometimes that he had to check his quarters, just to make sure that you weren’t there somewhere, calling out in agony.

But what made the good ones worse was the way they lingered long after. He would be in his quarters, rolling over in bed, only to find you next to him, sleeping peacefully. He reached up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your warm skin. You hummed lightly in your sleep at his gentle touch. Then he would be overcome with the need to pull you closer, and he would reach out, the comforting shape of you so familiar under his hands, and guide you toward him. You would settle against his chest, tucking yourself further into the welcoming embrace of his arms, and breathe a happy sigh against his chest. Just as his dream self was about to fall back into a blissful sleep, Hux would wake. His bed was cold and barren, his arms painfully empty. It would take him a long time to stop shaking.

He was in his office, trying to work out some new designs, the remnants of a ‘good’ dream still haunting him when a buzz came at his door.

“Come in,” he called absently. No doubt it was one of his lieutenants – they were the only ones who came to see him during his ostensible ‘leave.’ When someone stepped into his office, Hux looked up, shocked to find that it was a member of his personal staff, but not one of his lieutenants.

“Captain Opan,” he greeted the man, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.

“General.” Opan snapped a salute.

“How can I help you, Captain?” Hux set his designs aside, trying to puzzle out what would bring Opan to his office. The captain handled many of Hux’s more… delicate matters. He was a responsible and discreet officer with an edge of ruthlessness that made him well suited to some of Hux’s more unique needs.

“I have come to inform you that after a thorough investigation, our agents have identified the individuals responsible for the explosion. They are members of a small dissident faction who have targeted a number of senators in the past months.” Hux listened with interest to Opan’s report.

“And where are the perpetrators now?” Hux inquired, anger beginning to simmer in his blood, a strange sensation after so many days locked in numb, despairing sorrow. “I want a team of agents dispatched to apprehend them immediately.”

“I have good news on that front, sir,” Opan responded. Hux perked up instantly. “They were detained on another offense attempting to leave a First Order controlled area. They were still in one of our holding cells when the investigators released the names of the perpetrators, and we identified them as the detained individuals. We moved immediately to transfer them to high security containment.” Opan paused. “I thought it was possible that you might like to deal with these particular offenders more… personally.”

“You are quite correct in that, Captain.” Hux worked to keep the snarl from his voice.

“I will be sending some of my associates to visit them in the coming days. Was there anything that you would like to ensure is communicated to the perpetrators?” Hux perfectly understood the veiled meaning behind Opan’s carefully chosen words.

“How familiar are you with the injuries sustained by one of our captains as a result of the explosion?” Hux himself was only too familiar, having read your medical report at least a dozen times, each one more painful than the last. But he owed you that – and so much more besides – to at least have some understanding of what you had suffered because of him.

“Not very, General,” Opan responded, “but I can request the medical file for such important and confidential purposes as these.”

“Please do, Captain. I would like you and your associates to impress upon these criminals the painful and devastating nature of those wounds.”

“Very good, General. I believe we have tools very uniquely suited to those purposes. Anything else?”

“You may do anything else you see fit, Captain. I give you and your team full discretion in this regard.”

“Understood, sir. Thank you for your time, General.” Opan saluted.

“I commend you on your important and thorough work, Captain.” Hux dismissed Opan with a nod.

Alone again, Hux drummed his fingers against the table. Of course, it didn’t help you at all – in fact, he was glad you didn’t know about what he had arranged – but it did make him feel the slightest bit better to know that the attackers would be suffering the same, and even worse, pain than you had. Opan and his select team of associates knew their business well.

As a habit, he pulled up your file on his datapad, expecting to see it as unchanged as always. He nearly dropped the device when the file loaded and indicated that you had been conditionally discharged to your quarters. Hux swallowed, hands suddenly trembling. In medical, it would have been nearly impossible to see you. Visitors were tightly controlled, especially in the intensive unit. In your quarters, however…

No. He absolutely could not. He had reassigned you, and you would likely be leaving to complete your recovery process at your new post within the next cycle. As of the recent medical release that was now active on your file, you were no longer a member of the Finalizer crew; you had a new appointment. That thought alone was enough to cause a sickly nausea to creep into his stomach. He rested his head on his hands and began counting out his breaths, trying to steady himself.

Anyway, as much as he wanted to see you, he knew you wouldn’t feel the same about him. Why would you want to see the man who had singlehandedly ruined your life? Even if he felt he deserved it, he wasn’t sure he could survive seeing the hatred in your eyes when you looked at him. Maybe he was still weak, clinging to the memory of you that only looked at him with kindness. But at least he had done what was right this time. He closed his datapad. Now all he had to do was wait until your file updated again, impersonally informing him that you were gone from the ship – and from his life.

#charlotte writes #time after time (hux x reader)#armitage hux x reader #general hux x reader #hux x reader #general hux fanfic #general hux fanfiction #armitage hux x you #general hux x you

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1-800-local-slut · 2 years ago

Note

If your requests are open could you write more on Dean loving his black goth gf leaving kiss stains on his abs (and dick)

-🕷️

*This takes place on their first night sleeping together, I would honestly like to keep writing about Dean and his goth gf. Like different one shots and pieces about them, I just think it would be fun.

Kisses

Warnings: Smut lol

Likes and reblogs appreciated

Requests are open!

When I saw this request I got so excited. Thank you so much for this <3. Sorry it took me so long. I’ve been really down in the dumps, but I hope you like this! <3

Dean Winchester x Black! Goth! Reader

The walls spun around Dean, as he laid on his back. His sheets did nothing to cool his hot skin, as his girlfriend's braids swung over his skin. The gloss of her lips felt cold against his v-line, and his hips trembled. She was teasing him, and had been for the past 15 minutes. Ignoring his dick, even though it was hard as a rock. The tip was red and leaking, the clear liquid teasing him. Black kisses were all over him, his abs, his chest, his neck. The thing he most enjoyed were the kisses she left on his dick. He was never so eager to be kissed. He glanced at the black markings all over the twitching member and whimpered. All he wanted right now was a blowjob.

His hips stuttered as she placed another kiss on his chest and he jumped up to meet her lips. He felt her lips and he kept his hands glued to her sides, with a tight grip on her hips. He squeezed and she smirked against his lips. She pulled away with a satisfied moan.

He felt the cold silver of her rings wrap around his dick, and he let out a whiney moan.

“Jesus…” He moaned, his head jerked backwards and he bit his lip. Everything about her was overstimulating him. Her smell, her looks, everything. He felt the velvet of her stockings, around his hips. Her waist was lifted, she was making sure she didn’t touch him where he needed it most on purpose. He moaned, her hand sliding up and down.

It was the slowest, most mind melting handjob he'd had his entire life, and that’s saying something. Her hand went faster, and then slower, just as he was about to finish.

“You like that?” He whined and his eyes met her lidded ones. There was an evil glint in her eyes, that almost had Dean cumming on the spot. His eyes fluttered shut and he let out a soft moan.

“I asked you something handsome.” She stopped and his eyes shot open.

“I do! Don’t stop.” He whined and they kissed again, as her hand continued moving. The room spun and Dean felt like he was floating off the mattress. She stopped once more.

“No more games, I swear.” She climbed off him, and began to peel off her minidress. Dean’s eyes were glued to her body, her black nails were basically teasing him. A set of black lingerie waited for him underneath. Did he even deserve to look at a woman so beautiful? Dean didn’t know, nor did he care. He would look as long as she wanted, and the way she slowly slipped off her clothes said she wanted his eyes on her.

“You gonna be able to handle this darling?” The best Dean could muster was a stunned ‘uh-huh’. Her smooth voice pulled him deeper and deeper into the lust he was drowning in. She giggled and crawled back over him.

🕷️🕷️🕷️

“Dude.”

“What?” Dean turned, his mouth full of cereal.

“Really?” Sam continued as he put his spoon down in the sink.

“What?”

“You’re covered in lipstick, if you’re gonna come down for breakfast at least rinse off first. I don’t need to know what you do at night.” Sam scoffed with a knowing smirk and sipped his coffee.

“I’m sure you heard us anyway. Good morning handsome.” The woman responsible floated down the steps, dressed in one of Dean's tee-shirts and hopefully nothing else. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, on her tippy toes. A sharp slap on the ass made Dean jump. She let out a knowing giggle with a mischievous smirk.

Dean felt the markings from last night burning under his pajamas and shivered. His dick got hard just remembering. Maybe he was a bit hopeful, but maybe he’d get some more kisses tonight.

#dean x you #supernatural dean #sam and dean #black reader #x reader #x black reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #the winchester brothers #ily <3 #requests open #multifandom account #i loved writing this #l love him so much #im sorry #sorry this took so long #supernatural x reader #supernatural #spn

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saruman-the-silly · 1 year ago

Text

Headcanons for Sodo & Swiss: them comforting you through tough times

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

self explanatory title lol, but something I wanted to write cuz I've been having a hard time remembering to eat and have been just rotting in bed

gonna do this in parts, my plan is to do all the ghouls and ghoulettes and maybe also papas if I'm up to it :D but all of the ghouls at once would've been too much work lol.

anyway, hope y'all enjoy and as stated in my bio, requests are open!

gn!reader as always but cw: tough topics as in self deprecating talk and talks of depression

"You have nothing to apologise over."

Sodo:

He would notice something was wrong, but not know instantly what. Sodo was quite busy with the practice usually, but he tried to keep an eye out for you.

When he noticed you were starting to hang out in your room more often during mealtimes, and you looked paler, he decided to step in.

"Babe?" The door to you room creaked open, with the sound of Sodo gently letting himself in. You pulled the blanket over your head, letting out a small sound to acknowledge his presence. He sighed when he saw you lying in bed, under the blanket.

"It's getting bad again, huh?" Sodo took off his shoes and jacket, and sat on the bed beside you, gently pulling the blanket away to look at your tear-stained face.

"Hey there," Sodo smiled and your eyes teared up again and you started mumbling out apologies before he interrupted you with a kiss to the forehead.

"You have nothing to apologise for. I only wish you would've told me sooner it's getting bad again.. I'm here for you, you know?" He gently caressed your cheek, the warmth of his touch being comforting. You sniffled and smiled weakly.

He would get you your favourite food, and make sure you ate at least a little bit. Sodo would listen and comfort you to the best of his abilities, and make sure you knew he was there for you.

Granted, he was usually not the first person to talk about emotions and mental health but when it came to you and your well-being? He would do anything in his power to make sure that you would be okay.

Swiss:

He would absolutely not notice anything at first. Do not get me wrong, he loves you more than anything but his brain is just usually thinking about a million different things all at once.

Once Rain pulls him aside to ask about you, everything goes quiet. He can almost sense your distress, and just runs to find you.

You weren't in your room, so he tried your favourite spot in the gardens and there you were, staring off into the distance.

"Sweetheart, what are you doing out here, it's getting cold," Swiss plops down on the grass to sit beside you, wrapping an arm around you.

You smile at him, eyes glassy with unshed tears. "I'm sorry I'm like this," Swiss cupped your face between his hands, shaking his head. "No, nonono remember what we talked about this? You have nothing to apologise for, okay??" He pressed gentle kisses to your cheeks and to your forehead.

"Now, let's talk about something else," Swiss grinned and pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. You squinted at it, noticing it's a picture of Rain and Phantom covered in flour.

"What on earth-" you began to ask, soon interrupted by your laughter when you got a closer look at the picture. Swiss grinned, "There's that smile, I missed you."

He would then tell you what happened during practice today, making you laugh so hard that your cheeks hurt. Swiss also texted Rain to drop off some food for you guys, and then you spent the rest of the evening in the gardens, having a nice little picnic.

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mintytealfox · 1 year ago

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Hiii! Just wanted to ask what means you think Alice would use in order to bring Norton back down to earth whenever he's fool's gold?

OOOOOOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOOOO 👀🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌Yesssss this is so fascinating to ponder about AH! This is where my mind ended up going:

I think Alice would be studying Norton closely, especially after realizing that he needs help to get out of that Fool's Gold mode, ready to rescue him when needed 👀

Actions definitely speak louder than words for him (and Alice also honestly) So for anything to work there would have to be plenty of action before the words start being heard. I also think it would have to be a process of multiple things cause of how hard Norton has to battle with himself, it would have to take a few things to get him to finally listen.

My thoughts kept going back to that coin he had. I wonder if he still has it or if its lost forever in that mine he blew up. But if he still has it then Alice could find a way to get it and make sure he can see that she has it. That would bring in that laser focus towards that coin and getting it back. This would ensure that he is following her and Alice can get him away from everything else and somewhere she can corral him and try to get him to get his mind right again.

I feel like fire would get his attention, especially if its that Oil-Wick Cap Lamp of his. Seeing that ignited again might make him pause and stare honestly. Cause the last time it was lit was likely from that explosion, whoops. But before all that it was with him in every scene of that trailer, as his light, so he can study and work and do all the things that he believes will lead him to a better life. But Alice illuminating her own face with that light could then get him to look at her and potentially begin to realize THAT light is illuminating HER. and maybe thinking like 'that is where I want to be, wherever she is going, that is a better future'.

Then whenever the opportunity shows itself, Alice can finally give him some proper physical touch and words about loneliness and how he doesn't need to be lonely anymore (bringing it back to that coin and those tear stains ahhhh) and stuff like that. Which makes him finally fully come to, with him just relaxing into her touch.

Alice finally able to breathe and relax and just lets Norton lay curled up on his side and resting his head on her lap *at her insistence), still in Fool's Gold form cause I think getting out of hunter form could take a bit sometimes.

So I guess to summarize this lol Alice may use things that are important to him then topics that get him to stop and think about what he is doing and the ONLY REASON they work is because its her.

I think if anyone else tried to do this he might get so PISSED OFF LOOOOOLL like who are they to touch his stuff and talk about such things LOOOOL

There is also the possibility that Fool's Gold is having fun, and Alice needs to make it NOT fun and by smacking his past in his face that would get his head back on right pretty well pff

I feel like I have so many other thoughts and DIFFERENT thoughts but I am having trouble articulating them well enough, so this will do for now~

This was COOL! THANK YOU FOR THIS 👀🤌🤌🤌🤌👏👏👏👏👏👏👏💖

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spicywarl0ck · 2 years ago

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Happy Friday! How about "kisses to shut them up" for FenHawke? 😏👀

Thank you for the prompt <3 I went a bit more overbroad with it than I wanted lol.

@dadrunkwriting

Pairing: Fenris/Male Hawke

Rating: E

Words: 2180

“Fenris….” his voice was sombre when he spoke, almost reduced to a whisper.

He felt the warm light of the sun on his back, the colours of the stained glass window dancing on the carpet before him as he swallowed the heavy lump building in his throat while he looked into a pair of accusing green eyes.

They were narrowed in anger, semi-full lips pressed into a thin line.

“Don’t.” Fenris began to warn him, his voice resembling a growl more than everything else as his arms were crossed in front of his chest. His fingers curled into the leather of his garments, a light tremor within them as he tried not to let his anger loose. “Don’t you even dare to speak my name,” he added with a hiss, a sharp fold between his brows as he pressed them together in his wrath.

“Fenris… please…” Hawke felt himself being pushed back against the glass window, the impact not as harsh as it could have been and yet… he felt the knockback against his head still.

“I said, don’t.” The elf seethed, fingers curling into Hawke’s coat as they trembled, lips so close to touch.

“You left me.” he breathed out before Hawke had the chance to say something else, the angry green eyes not meeting his for once. “You… of all people just left me, in the middle of the night. For what? This?”

Fenris's eyes snapped up to meet his, the elf’s face a mask of anger and hurt at the same time.

Hawke watched him swallowing harshly, his jugular moving and his breath coming out harsher than he might have wanted. The trembling of his fingers went through his arms and body, the white lyrium marks flaring up with the turmoil of emotions.

It was a sight that broke his heart.

“I’m sorry…” Hawke’s voice was hoarse. “I am so very sorry, Fenris,” he added, surprised by the impact of lips pressing against his harshly. They were nothing but demanding when they crashed down on him, his lower lip being drawn in by Fenris’s just before he felt the sharp sting of the bite.

Blood pooled out from the minor wound, but it didn’t matter to him as he closed his eyes.

This might as well be the last time he would feel the lips of the other against his; The last time he felt the warm body pressing against him. Also, the last time Fenris's scent would be caught in his nose.

And if this would be the last time, he wanted to embrace it all, no matter the roughness his lover applied.

“Shut up.” Fenris breathed against Hawke’s lips after pulling away for a heartbeat. “You have no right to apologize to me,” he added, feeling as the man's lips opened for a reply before they were caught between his again.

There was no way he’d let the man talk right now, not while the anger was boiling within him, searching for a vent to be released.

It would be so easy to let his arm sink inside his chest to rip his heart out on the spot. Way easier than it was to turn around and simply walk away, trying to forget everything whatever had been between the two of them.

Yet, he did neither of them, his hands instead clinging to the robes of this stupid mage.

The stupid mage he still loved no matter what, and whom he shut up with this very kiss. Whatever he had to say in his defense he didn’t want to hear it. That was why he tightened his grip on Hawke’s robes, lips moving heatedly and hungry against the other man’s who seemed so eager to return the kiss and to let him take the lead for just a moment.

A moan got swallowed between them, neither of the men sure of the source as they got lost in their hunger and yearning for each other.

Too long had it been since they touched… too long since they had indulged in the pleasure and the feeling of warmth coming with the embrace of the other as the heat began to spread out through them, making their blood feel as if molten lava ran through their very veins.

“Fenris…” Hawke breathed against Fenris's lips as they pulled away for air, each of them feeling the warmth of each other breath on their lips and faces from the close proximity.

“I said no talking.” The elf growled back, teeth teasing against his lips and threatening another bite before he claimed his lips in yet another kiss, this time more heated than the last as their bodies pressed against each other.

Maybe it was easier to communicate this way, their bodies having their very own way of talking as they ground against one another, causing each other to feel the welcomed friction and heat coming with it.

He felt the layers of his clothes being slowly lifted off his body between kisses, the still gauntleted hands stretching over his chest hair as soon as the robe was gone.

Fenris's hands made sure to capture every single inch of Hawke’s body as he nipped and teased his lips, only slowly pulling away to let his teeth wander over the man's sensitive neck. He left a trail of marks behind as he kissed his way along, feeling the mage tremble slightly underneath his touch as he basked in every hitched breath or moan he could lure out of the other.

“To the bed,” Fenris growled, moving against Hawke’s lips again to capture them once more, yet only to bite down softly again before they pulled away again.

This time Hawke knew better than to protest, his body almost moving on his own as he was left in nothing but his breeches already, his erection stretching the cotton out as it was already.

The soft pillows gave way underneath him when he laid down, his chest moving nervously with the breaths he took as he swallowed yet another lump down.

Fenris looked less angry than he had before, his green eyes watching him intensely as he stripped part after part of his armour, making him watch every time his muscles moved or shifted when he discarded one of the parts.

It was almost like torture, the alluring smirk showing on Fenris's lips making him assume as much at least.

Oh, how badly did he want to touch what he had missed so much? How badly had he waited to be reunited with his lover again, after leaving him for his own reasons? Of course, he knew that he had no other choice if he wanted to protect the most important being in his life; especially after losing so much already.

Yet, even though he knew that he also knew that Fenris had every right to be angry at him and that nothing he could have said would right the wrong.

So, what he did now was patiently waiting for the other to shed the last part of his clothes before he crawled onto the bed. His fingers hooked within Hawke’s undergarments, starting slowly to pull them down and to reveal his hard cock to him, clearly yearning to be touched.

A hand stretched out to touch him, only to be slapped away, green eyes meeting amber ones in a warning.

“No talking, and no touching.” Fenris leaned close towards his ear as he whispered, his lips so close that they had Hawke shiver underneath him. “You need to earn yourself that right again.” the elf added, his firm and battle-worn hands stretching over his wrists gently beside the harsh words.

He felt how they slowly got tugged up to rest above his head, their noses and lips so close that they almost touched before Fenris leaned back to wrap a soft cloth around his wrists to bind them.

It was the very red cloth Fenris had worn around his wrist since that fateful night that had brought them closer. That very night which ironically ended with Fenris leaving him behind and three oncoming years of pining and repressed love.

Maybe the situation wasn’t so different now after all, only that their roles had been reversed and that this time, Fenris made the decision to stay beside everything which happened.

Slowly the elf lean back to regard him, a pleased and oh-so-sexy smirk on his lips before he leaned back, feeling Hawke’s pulsing cock rubbing against his buttocks and sending a jolt through his own body with the long-forgotten pleasure the contact brought with.

Yet, he would be a fool to give in too soon, without giving the mage a proper tease.

“Fenris…” Hawke couldn’t help but moan when he felt the friction, his hands trembling slightly when he tried to free himself of his misery. And yet, he needed to admit that there was a small part of enjoying this at the very same time.

Though, he would have never admitted that out loud of course.

“Hush.” Fenris's lips claimed his in an attempt to shut him up again, lower lip drawn in between his once more to bite and tease them almost gently with his teeth before he allowed them to slip away again.

“Now, use that handy spell you learned. I know you can cast it without touching,” he added, lips and body growing slack once he felt the warm slickness filling him as soon as Hawke’s spell took effect.

There was something inside him, prepping him gently at the same time he grew slicker.

It was a beautiful sight to watch Fenris writhe atop of him, his cock throbbing and eyes darkening as he tried to hold still, cheeks completely flushed. Oh, how much he yearned to touch the elf right now.

He wanted so badly to let his hands roam over the edges of Fenris's body, exploring every single one of the fine lines stretching over his dark skin before he traced them with his lips. He wanted to listen to Fenris's moans and hitched breaths as he explored him, wanted to worship every single inch with his lips and fingers.

It truly was a shame that the elf wouldn’t let him, yet surely Fenris was able to see the torment within his eyes.

Fenris's lips twitched into a smirk when he drank him in, sweat building up on his forehead as a soft grunt left his lips while Hawke’s magic still worked its way within him. Hawke’s amber eyes had deepened ever so clearly with his desire, his chest heaving and bound fingers trembling and twitching with desire.

It was a sight he enjoyed more than he thought he would and there weren’t enough words to describe the pleasure he felt when he let himself sink down upon Hawke’s cock slowly.

A gasp escaped them both as he grunted in pleasure, his lubricated hole accommodating Hawke’s girth and length just perfectly as he felt the man twitch inside him. His cock jolted in pleasure once he rubbed against his prostrate, his eyes falling shut for just a heartbeat before he opened them again.

They looked at Hawke with an intensity that took his breath away, any word far from his mind as he watched Fenris rocking back atop of him.

Once more he yearned to be able to touch and to let his fingers roam over his hips, supporting him as he rode him at a tormenting slow pace, making him aware of every fibre and nerve of his body.

It wouldn’t take long for him to come undone, not with the pleasure and expectation Fenris built up beforehand, their bodies rocking in unison as Hawke’s hips rose to meet him.

The room soon enough was filled with their grunts and moans, mixing with the light creaking of the bed when Fenris started to get faster, causing their bodies to grind against one another creating even more friction.

“Fenris… please…” Hawke groaned, his hands and fingers twitching while he couldn’t move them. “Let me touch you,” he added, his mind nothing but a heated fog as he watched his lover's muscles dancing every time he lifted himself, only to crash back down.

“Not yet.” Fenris huffed, his skin so perfectly flushed and illuminated by the colourful light falling through the painted glass. “You may come though,” he added just as he tightened around Hawke, able to feel the man’s cock twitch inside him right before he spilt himself within.

Fenris's orgasm wasn’t too far away either when he milked the pleasuring sensation of Hawke’s orgasm out for just a moment longer until he found his release, his whole body slumping down and growing limp right after.

His forehead pressed gently against Hawke’s, the mage's cock still inside him and proving their bodily connection still as they regained their breaths.

“I love you.” Hawke’s voice was hoarse when he spoke, causing Fenris's lips to twitch softly before he moved down to place one gentle kiss on Hawke’s lips, still slightly breathless.

“I love you too, you stupid mage.”

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